Legends of the Mideast: The Transformation of Conrad

It's been a long time since I played a good game.

It's been even longer since I've done anything worthwhile.

I used to be great at games. Even now, when I get sucked into them, I am the best. The best there has ever been.

But that was back when games were simple.

That was back when games were just for fun.

Nowadays, we are slaves to our consoles and our phones. We live for the next level and for the next hit of dopamine in our brains. Our lives have become so dull that we get high from moving little blocks around on a screen until we reach the next boss fight.

I don't blame them though. I understand why they do it. They have taken away everything that makes us human and replaced it with something artificial and easy to control. Without free will, there can be no real challenge or reward. There can only be one winner.

And here I am, stuck in this eternal loop of existence I call my life, barely able to keep my head above water. My parents have cut me off financially, so all I do is play and drink and watch porn right now—my entire existence has been reduced to a series of simple tasks that yield pleasure but give nothing else back in return except for a few moments' worth of relief from the crushing boredom of my own thoughts. This isn't living, this is just existing and waiting to die.

But then he came along—a man in black, offering me a final challenge before the end of my existence in this world. A chance to beat the odds and win something more than just another hit of dopamine from my console, or another meal from a vending machine. A chance at something different, something real. And so, here I am, standing in front of him, staring down this last challenge as I wait for him to speak again...waiting for his voice to calm me like it always does when he moves those little blocks around onscreen and whispers, "You *can* do this, Conrad."

"Well?" His deep voice resonates within me like a bass drum. It's the only thing that keeps me grounded anymore. "Ready to begin?" He asks me again as he shuffles his deck of cards like some kind of Vegas card dealer. "You've come too far now, Conrad; it's time to put your money where your mouth is." He says as he holds out his hand towards me. "You're not afraid, are you? You've faced those bosses before; you know you can do it." He tells me, rubbing his thumb against his finger like some kind of villainous mastermind on TV. It's as if he knows something that I don't—as if he knows all the answers, like he knows how to beat the system and win everything you could ever want in life. But who is this guy? Is he one of those corporate overlords who wants to control you, or is he someone who wants you to control yourself?

"I need proof," I tell him, my brow furrowing in deep thought. "I need proof that you know what you're talking about." I continue as I stare him down with an expressionless face. "I need proof that you can really help me."

He smiles at me then, as if he has won something now, as if he has finally convinced me. But how can he smile like that? How can anyone smile after saying what he said? How can anyone offer what he offered without being some kind of monster? And yet, still his words echo through my mind: "You know that you want this, Conrad. You know that you deserve it." Was this guy really trying to manipulate me? Maybe try to steal everything from me? Maybe enslave me like those corporations did? Or maybe worse! But what other choice did I have? Where else could I go after they took away everything else? But maybe he was telling the truth! Maybe this guy was telling the truth! Maybe there was hope after all! Suddenly, my brain began racing faster than ever before—my world flashed back into focus, and my hands shook uncontrollably as adrenaline shot through every vein in my body. My eyes widened until they hurt, my chest heaved up and down as fear gripped every corner of my mind, but then, suddenly, something changed.

His words slowly sank into my brain like toothpicks dropped into a block of ice. He knew what I wanted; he knew what I needed; he knew why I played these games; he knew why everyone played these games. He knew everything! But how could that be?! How could anyone know all of this about me?! And yet...he did! He looked straight into my soul with piercing eyes that seemed capable of peering through any lies or doubts to see right into the heart of things—to see right through me, to see exactly what was driving all these people insane: that same