3

Mason and Riley split up at the corner near the bus stop. It was a school night, after all, and both boys were already pushing their luck.

By the time Mason reached home, the sun had dipped behind the hills and the warm glow of the Reid household spilled onto the driveway.

His mother, Linda Reid, greeted him the moment he stepped inside.

“Hello, sweetheart! You’re finally home. How was the science fair at the convention centre?”

“It was… interesting,” Mason said carefully. “Lots of cool gadgets.”

He decided right then that he would not mention the electrical surge, the malfunction, or the fact that he might’ve ended up with his brain scrambled like an egg.

Nope.

What Mum didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

His father, Arnold Reid, came down the stairs with a grin.

“Ah, there he is! So, did you enjoy your day at the egghead convention?”

“Oh, stop it, Arnold,” Linda scolded.

“What?” Arnold shrugged. “I’m just saying — it ain’t normal for a boy to have his head in puzzles and all that science junk. A boy your age should have a cheerleader on his arm.”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Get serious, Dad.”

“See? That right there is your problem,” Arnold said, pointing at him like he’d solved a mystery. “Confidence! You really ought to try out a sport. Then you’d get in good with the girls at school.”

And that’s when it happened.

A spark.

A pattern.

A perfect, airtight logical loop formed in Mason’s mind — so clean, so simple, so devastatingly effective that he didn’t even think before saying it.

“Dad,” Mason said calmly, “if doing sports automatically gets you girls… then why did Mum marry you?”

Arnold froze.

Linda’s jaw dropped.

The room went silent.

Arnold opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out.

His brain had hit a blue screen.

Linda covered her mouth, torn between horror and laughter. “Arnold… he may have a point.”

Arnold blinked twice, turned around, and walked straight back up the stairs without a word.

A moment later, his bedroom door clicked shut.

Linda stared after him, then looked at Mason amusingly. “Sweetheart… don’t ever use that power for evil.”

Mason shrugged. “I didn’t mean to. It just… came to me.”

And that was the truth.

His mind was changing.

Fast.

“Still that was… very quick thinking,” she said carefully. “Maybe a little too quick.” She paused and laughed. ““Well… just try not to break your father’s brain again, alright?”  

That night, Mason slept hard — the kind of sleep that comes after a long day, a headache, and too many thoughts swirling in his mind.

But the dream that followed didn’t feel like a dream.

It felt real.

As real as the VR world had felt.

Because it was the VR world.

Except… wrong.

Very wrong.

He stood in Puzzle World again, but the sky above him churned with dark clouds. A raging thunderstorm crackled overhead, each bolt of lightning flashing an unnatural red, like corrupted code tearing through the sky.

The cheerful pyramids and buildings he remembered were twisted now — warped, stretched, misshapen, as if someone had tried to rebuild them from memory and failed. Even the puzzles scattered around him looked melted, their shapes bending in ways that made his stomach twist.

Characters from the game wandered aimlessly, but they were all… off.

Mr. Puzzles stood nearby, but his smile dripped off his face like water. Each droplet hit the ground and derezzed into tiny particles of light.

Another character — a tall, thin figure in a scholar’s robe — rocked back and forth, repeating the same equation over and over in a glitching monotone.

“∫(3x² + 4x) dx = x³ + 2x² + C…

x³ + 2x² + C…

x³ + 2x² + C…”

His name tag flickered:

PROFESSOR PARADOXUS

Mason shivered. “This… this isn’t right.”

The professor’s head snapped toward him, eyes glowing with static.

“The pattern is broken… the pattern is broken… the pattern is—”

A loud crack of red lightning cut him off.

Mason stumbled backward and noticed a puddle on the ground — perfectly still despite the storm. When he looked into it, he didn’t see his own face.

He saw The Pattern.

His VR avatar stared back at him — calm, glowing, perfect.

“I’m back in Puzzle World…” Mason whispered.

The reflection moved slightly not enough to really notice. Mason kept staring. Then the reflection tilted its head to the right of It’s own accord.

Before Mason could react and step back, the reflection reached up, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into the puddle.

He fell through the surface like it was liquid glass.

Suddenly — darkness.

A void.

No sound.

No wind.

No world.

Just silence so deep it felt alive.

Then his hand began to change.

A pale blue glove formed over his skin.

His feet were swallowed by glowing boots.

A purple suit wrapped around him, piece by piece, the Labyrinth insignia burning onto his chest.

It felt like The Pattern wasn’t just appearing.

It was consuming him.

“No— stop—!” Mason tried to pull away, but the transformation crawled up his arms like living light.

The void whispered around him:

“Become the Pattern…

Become the Pattern…

Become—”

Mason jolted awake with a gasp.

His room was dark.

His sheets were damp with sweat.

His heart hammered against his ribs.

“It… it was just a bad dream,” he muttered, wiping his forehead.

He glanced at the clock.

3:00 AM.

“Oh, come on…” he groaned. “I have to be up in three hours. Why couldn’t I have woken up sooner so I could get longer uninterrupted rem—”

He flopped back onto his pillow mid complaint, grumbling as he drifted back into uneasy sleep.