Wednesday, August 27th, 2042, Newport High School, Bellevue, Washington.


    Jason Davis watched as the last remaining rich parents of his privileged students slowly trickled out of the classroom, chatting with each other as if he did not have to close-up behind them or somewhere else he would rather be.


    He impatiently took his phone, checked the time, and typed a message of apology to his best friend. Once he was done, he pocketed the phone, grabbed his keys and his briefcase and started heading towards the door, slowly hoping they would catch the silent request to vacate the room.


    Most schools for low-class or middle-class children now existed solely in VR spaces. But the government still ran a few physical ones here and there for the children of the elite. Jason was the teacher of a middle-school group of such young elite.


    For how much his job asked of him, the salary was not great, especially given the outrageous cost associated with working and living in meatspace. There was one benefit to working for the government; Jason could eat actual meals every work day, courtesy of the school’s cafeteria. Most middle-class citizens would not even dream of such luxury.


    The last parents finally left. It took longer than he hoped, but he locked the door and made his way to his car, an old Subaru Solterra. When he and his wife purchased it, it had been an expensive decision, but both partners agreed to get an electric car. Lisa was a nurse, and he was a middle-school teacher. They both agreed they should leave the world in a better state than they found it, and this was one step towards such a goal. Jason was thankful for their past decision. When the price of gasoline soared up as scarcity became a problem, the price of electric cars and electricity quickly followed, together with the price of kerosene, plane tickets and shipping costs. Any form of long-distance travel in real life soon became prohibitive, which pushed more and more people to live their lives fully digitally, unless they were within a walkable distance of everything. Public transit had not improved to the additional needs and demands.


    The sun had already set by the time he got behind the wheel. Despite all this, he smiled slightly, excitement bubbling beneath the surface. He had been looking forward to his evening plans with M-E all day—diving into the game, getting lost in a world that was not... this one. Not that his life was terrible, just... quiet. Dull. Full of obligations he never signed up for but somehow could not escape.


    His smile faded and turned upside-down when he saw the luxurious car parked in front of his house as he pulled into the driveway.


    Claire Richardson’s self-driving, state-of-the-art electric car.


    It was not so much that the car was out of place in this middle-class neighbourhood, even though it was. Last Jason checked, that car was worth more than their house.


    Claire was one of the few people he knew who still took their car to meet friends in real life. The cost of doing so, both in time and money, was just not something most people could afford, or even really want to do. They simply used VR Chat for synchronous communications.


    His stomach twisted. For a moment, he considered driving off—just putting the car back in gear and leaving. But that was never him. He could not just leave Lisa to handle Claire on her own, even though Claire was her childhood friend, not his. He turned into the driveway and parked inside the garage.


    He sighed, sinking back into the seat for a moment before reluctantly grabbing his bag and heading inside. The door to the interior of the house swung open, and the aroma of roasted chicken and herbs wafted out.


    Actual food tonight? Of course, because Claire was here. With her career, she never had to rely on virtual meals. She could afford to live only in physical space. And, without realising it, she pushed others to follow her rhythm.


    He could hear voices in the kitchen, and even before stepping inside, he knew exactly how the evening was going to go.


    Inside the house, Claire sat at the island, a glass of red wine cradled in her hands, her expression a mix of frustration and sadness. She could afford wine, but Jason saw the bottle sitting on the counter next to her, and recognised it. Of course, she would expect their host to cater to her capricious tastes. Did she even realise how rarely Lisa and Jason actually drank the wine they purchased, or had she never paid enough attention to see she was always the only one with a glass of red whenever she visited?


    Her voice carried through the house, loud and authoritative—like she always had something to prove. Something to complain about. Every word, every demand, felt like a tether tightening around him. There was no escape, no space for his own thoughts. Just the weight of her expectations. Tonight, it seemed to be about M-E. Again. It was all she talked about, ever since they divorced.


    “Thanks for having me over tonight,” Claire said, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s been... challenging lately.”


    Lisa offered a sympathetic smile. “Of course. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper catch-up. Besides, you know you’re always welcome here.”


    Claire sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I just don’t understand what happened with Martin. One day everything was fine, the next he’s gone—like we were nothing.”


    Jason flinched. One. He stood in the doorway for a moment, hesitating. Part of him wanted to slip upstairs unnoticed. He could log into the game right now, leaving all of this behind. He had spent all day imagining it—the feeling of freedom, of getting to make choices that did not involve anyone else’s mess.


    But, of course, Claire saw him first.


    “Jason!” she forced herself, as if just saying his name was an obligatory nicety. “Good to see you,” she smiled. That smile. Calculated. A lawyer’s smile. Polite, but barely.


    He responded weakly. “Hey, Claire.”


    Lisa turned around from the stove, stirring something in a pan. “Dinner’s almost ready! I thought you’d like to join us tonight—Claire’s been going through a rough time.”


    Lisa glanced at Jason with a small, apologetic smile—one they had shared too many times before—her eyes quietly saying, Sorry for this, but you know how she is.


    Jason nodded, forcing himself to say something supportive. “Yeah, of course. Got to make it through the tough weeks somehow, right?”


    Not that he really wanted to know. Claire had been venting about M-E for the past few months, and frankly, he was tired of being caught in the crossfire. He tried not to pick sides—tried to just nod and agree—but Claire had a way of making everything feel like a confrontation. Like if you were not fully agreeing with her, you were part of the problem.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Jason placed his bag on the floor and made his way toward the kitchen, the familiar tension knotting in his shoulders. His thoughts raced. Claire’s voice—sharp, clipped—echoed through the house like the ticking of a clock winding down.


    “You know, Jason, I just don’t get how Martin thinks this is okay,” Claire continued, her voice tinged with frustration as she took another sip of wine.


    Jason flinched again. Two. It was not just her tone—it was hearing M-E’s first name. Every time Claire used it, something inside him twisted. It felt... wrong. But this was not the moment to correct her. He shot a glance at Lisa, who caught his eye briefly, her expression quietly sympathetic.


    “I mean,” Claire went on, “who just leaves like that? Who upends everything and expects everyone else to just go along with it?” She let out an exasperated laugh. “You wouldn’t believe how many of these guys I see in my office. Forty-something, bored, restless, and suddenly, they’re chasing after something ‘new.’ A new job, a new relationship, a new identity—like Martin.” Jason flinched again. Three. Obviously, Claire did not notice. “He just left. It’s the same old story, honestly. You’d think them satisfied with what they have: career, stability, family.”


    Jason tried to stay composed. Claire was clearly venting, and maybe some of her frustration was valid, but she was missing the point—especially with M-E.


    Lisa, finishing up at the stove, stepped in first. “Do you really think that’s what this is? A midlife crisis?”


    Claire set her glass down with a sharp clink. “What else could it be? I see it all the time, Lisa. Men trying to relive their twenties, abandoning their families. It’s selfish. And Martin—” another flinch from Jason. Four. “—is just like all of them. Walking out on the kids, chasing some fantasy.”


    Jason’s breath caught in his throat. He could not let that slide. “It’s not the same, Claire. M-E’s still seeing the kids regularly over VRChat. They’re struggling but adapting. Maybe M-E just needed some room to breathe. Find himself again.”


    Claire blinked at him, clearly not expecting the analogy. “Breathe? What are you even talking about?”


    Jason could feel his frustration rising. He struggled to find the words. “I’ve known M-E for a long time. Crowds drain him; space helps him breathe. It’s not about leaving—it’s about getting the room he needs to actually live. So he can be there for the kids when it counts.”


    Claire rolled her eyes at him. “Of course, the unaliving argument again. You think I wasn’t giving Martin enough space?” Five. “No, it’s something else. It always starts with something simple like that—I’ve seen enough court cases about midlife-crisis or people transitioning. It always ends up tearing their marriage apart.”


    She turned to Lisa, scoffing, “Just that they can live? Do you really buy into all that? I mean, come on. It’s so bloody dramatic.”


    Lisa calmly set down the last of the dishes and gave Claire a steady look. “It’s not dramatic. I see it at work all the time. People transitioning aren’t doing it on a whim—it’s a long, often painful process. And for many people, it is about survival. Hormone therapy, surgeries... these things can make the difference between barely getting by and truly living.”


    Claire scoffed. “Sure, but it’s still selfish. They don’t think about the family, the mess they leave behind. Martin—” Six. Jason gritted his teeth but stayed quiet, “—just left, Jason. How is that fair to the children? To me?”


    Jason felt the familiar knot tighten in his chest. He could not entirely explain why this felt personal, why defending M-E felt so urgent, but the words came before he could stop them. “Listen. It’s not about fair or unfair. It’s like when you’re in a plane emergency—you put your own mask on first. M-E knows the kids need their dad to be alive first. Your kids are strong and smart, Claire. They’ll manage.”


    Claire crossed her arms, her tone hardening. “So what, Jason? You think it’s okay for him to just walk out? You think that’s what’s best for the kids?”


    Jason hesitated, the tension building in his throat. He glanced at Lisa, hoping she could step in, and she did.


    “I think,” Lisa said calmly, “that it’s not about walking out. It’s about trying to find a solution. M-E’s not abandoning anyone—he’s just figuring out a way to deal with all this, his own way.”


    Claire shook her head, clearly unconvinced, but at least she did not press further. “The court already decided. Martin’s the one who broke the marriage and he lost custody. I’d love to hear what kind of solution he thinks he’s found.”


    Seven. Jason’s stomach twisted again at the cold finality in Claire’s voice. He wanted to say more, to fight harder, but the weight of the conversation—and everything it implied—was exhausting. He could feel his own discomfort simmering just below the surface. But not now. Not tonight.


    Lisa, sensing the rising tension, gave Jason a soft smile and turned back to Claire. “Dinner’s ready,” she said, her voice lightening, as if trying to lift the mood. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”


    Jason exhaled, grateful for the out. He moved to the table, trying to shake the heavy feeling in his chest. As they sat down, he could not help but glance at Lisa again. Her lips curled into a small, careful smile, tight at the edges, as if holding back words. It was warm but distant, like she was reassuring him while keeping her questions locked away.


    There was something there—too careful, too controlled, like she was trying to contain something. There was warmth in it and quiet support, but also something else, something heavy and uncertain, almost like pity. It flickered for just a second, a glimpse of understanding she did not want to acknowledge out loud.


    Jason turned his attention to the meal that was being served. Lisa and Jason’s portions cleverly disguised to appear as generous as Claire’s.


    Their bank account had already paid the price for it, but now they had delicious looking plates of Lisa’s home-cooked roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Jason knew he would enjoy it. Lisa’s cooking far outclassed the soulless government-issued staff meals they both had at work. The students at his school, though? Oh, those had proper chefs on staff, and only the best ingredients and care. Jason had been lucky enough to have a taste here and there. He truly lived a world apart from those children.


    Claire muttered something under her breath, but the food and topped off glass of red quieted her. If she noticed the two tall glasses of water that Lisa served for herself and her husband, she did not show any signs of it.


    The conversation shifted to lighter topics—work, his students, the parents-teachers meeting, plans for the weekend—but the undercurrent of tension remained, a subtle hum beneath the surface.


    Dinner dragged on longer than Jason had hoped. He stared at the clock, imagining how it would feel to be somewhere—anywhere—else. A place where he had control, where he did not have to smile and nod at conversations he no longer cared about. Every time he thought about getting up, Claire would throw him a pointed look, clearly expecting more of his input on some family drama or another. He felt like a trapped animal, stuck in this never-ending conversation about other people’s problems, when all he wanted to do was slip away.


    Finally, after what felt like hours, Claire stood up, gathering her things. “Thanks for dinner, Lisa,” she said with that same lawyer’s smile. “I should head out.”


    Jason nodded, trying not to look too relieved. “Yeah, of course. Drive safe.”


    As soon as Claire walked out the door, Jason felt the tension leave his body, like a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders. Lisa came over to him, placing a hand on his arm. “You okay?”


    “Yeah,” Jason said, though the exhaustion in his voice said otherwise. “Just... tired.”


    Lisa gave him a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to deal with her, you know.”


    “I know,” Jason replied. “But... I can’t just ignore her, either. I mean, she’s your friend, and she’s going through a lot.”


    Lisa sighed. “She used to be my friend. Before she got poisoned by all that TERF nonsense. You heard her earlier. I only tolerate her, barely, because I care about their kids and M-E.”


    Jason felt a swell of gratitude. Lisa always had a way of cutting through the noise, seeing the core. It was what he loved most about her. He gave her a tired smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Lisa… I know.”


    Lisa squeezed his arm before turning back to the kitchen. “He’s been waiting for you, no? You two had this evening all planned. I’m sorry Claire dropped in like that. You can go. I’ll finish cleaning up and head upstairs.”


    He did not need to be told twice.


    Jason kissed his wife, gave her one of his best smiles. “Love you.”


    He climbed the stairs to his second-story home office. The weight of the evening’s conversation slowly lifted with each step. It was already late, but he promised M-E he would play tonight. The thought of getting lost in their world, away from this one, gave him a flicker of relief. Surely he could at least get through character creation.


    [author] We''re 8 chapters in, and we finally have our first chapter inside the head of the fourth protagonist, Jason Davis! Clearly, he''s not very fond of Claire, and since we are using his point of view, she''s not exactly showed in a good light at all. But frankly, I don''t even know if it would even be possible to do that. She doesn''t have much redeeming qualities...[/author]