“How much for the Playstation?” I pointed at the game console that was sitting in the bottom left corner of the display case.
Several cords were wrapped around it. One of which belonged to a controller. In the port above where the controller was plugged in was a memory card.
“The what?” the old guy behind the counter asked.
“The PlayStation,” I repeated, “Under that stack of comics.”
The old guy opened the case and set the small stack of comics to the side, “This thing?” He placed his finger on the console.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
He pulled it out of the case and turned it every which way as he examined it, holding the cords in place as he did so.
“How does five bucks sound?” the old guy asked.
“Does it work?” I didn’t want to waste my money on a broken console no matter how cheap it was.
“I have no idea,” he admitted, “If it doesn’t you can bring it back.”
“Okay,” I said, pulling out my wallet.
***
When I got home, the first thing I did was clean the console inside and out, very carefully, with hot soapy water and a rag. While cleaning it, I removed the memory card and started wiping it down as well. That’s when I noticed that someone had written their name on the back of it with a permanent marker. Shannon Hughes was the name.
I considered trying to clean the marker off but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle so I plugged it back into the console and finished cleaning it. Once I was done, I hooked it up to the old vacuum tube television I’d inherited from my grandparents.
“Please work,” I said as I pushed the power button on the console.
I smiled when I heard the start-up sound and saw the Sony logo appear on the television.
YES!
The fact that the console powered on was great news, but that was just the first step in seeing if it worked. The next step was seeing if it would actually run a game.
Luckily, I had a few of my dad’s old PS discs that he found when was cleaning out the attic. He said I could do whatever I wanted with them, so, at the time, I tried to sell them but nobody wanted them. They’ve been sitting in a shoe box in my closet ever since. I’d forgotten about them until I saw the PlayStation in the second-hand shop.
I pulled a random game out of the box, but before I even had a chance to look at it, something on the television caught my eye. The words: CONTINUE GAME? Y/N had replaced the standard start-up screen. There was a blinking cursor highlighting the Y.
I’d just cleaned the inside of the PlayStation so I knew for a fact there wasn’t a game inside of it.
Curious to see what the game could be, I dropped the one I was holding, picked up the controller, and pushed the X button.
The television screen brightened and then started flashing. It got so bright that I had to close my eyes and look away. When it stopped and I was able to see again, I found that I was no longer in my apartment. I was in an old musty basement furnished with nothing but a dirty mattress, a bucket, and my television with the PlayStation still attached to it.
“What the hell is going on?” I got up and looked around. As I did, I heard chains clinking. That’s when I noticed a pressure around my ankle.
What the fuck!
When I looked down, I saw a hefty rusty shackle around my left leg. Attached to it was a long thick chain that was fastened to a support beam a few feet away.
I’m trapped!
But I had no idea how or why. The best explanation I could come up with is that I must’ve blacked out when the television screen started flashing and someone came into my apartment and abducted me. I know it sounds crazy but that’s what I thought.
When I turned back and looked at the television, I saw that new words had appeared on the screen, this is what it said:
The year is 1998. Your name is Shannon Hughes. You are being held captive in an undisclosed location. You have 3 days to escape before you become the latest victim of a serial killer.
Shannon Hughes was the name on the memory card.
Maybe this is some kind of weird dream. That was wishful thinking on my part.
The sound of footsteps above me drew me out of my thoughts. I followed them with my eyes as they crossed the floor above me, stopping when they came to the stairwell on the opposite side of the basement.
I heard several deadbolts being unlocked before the door swung open and a man appeared. Even though he looked about 25 years younger, I immediately recognized the old man from the second-hand shop.
“It’s time to show you why you’re here,” he smiled.