Heartbeat.exe: Hidden Script

Chapter 2: Static and Sandwiches

Ketsana gripped the porcelain edges of the sink until his knuckles turned as white as the tiles. He squeezed his eyes shut, counting to ten, hoping that when he opened them, the digital artifacts would be gone. But the phantom warmth in his retinas persisted.

"Get out," Ketsana hissed at his own reflection. "Seriously, get out of my head right now."

The dialogue box in his vision flickered twice, almost like a wink.

[ SYSTEM: Optimization in progress. Behavioral filters engaged. ]

Ketsana didn't wait for a response. He grabbed a towel, scrubbed his face hard enough to raw the skin, and bolted back into his room. He practically threw his headset onto the desk.

"Ketsana? Bro, you still there?" Bounthavy’s voice was tiny, leaking from the ear-cups.

"I’m going to sleep, Bounthavy! I’m out!" Ketsana yelled toward the desk without getting too close.

"Already? But we haven't looked at the stats on that legendary sword yet!"

"I don't care about the sword! My eyes are literally glowing! I’m done!"

Ketsana dived into bed, pulling the duvet over his head like a shield. He stayed there for hours, the blue HUD elements faintly illuminating the inside of his blankets. Eventually, exhaustion won out over the existential dread.

The next morning, the sun was too bright. It didn't help that the inventory count for his apartment—Items: 42, Dust: High—was hovering over his bedside table. He sat up, groaning, and swung his legs out. On the way to the kitchen, his hip clipped the corner of his wooden dresser.

"Oh, hey, I am so sorry," Ketsana said, stopping dead to bow at the dresser. "I hope your sturdy frame is unharmed by my reckless passage."

He blinked. His hand flew to his mouth. "What did I just say?"

He tried to walk toward the door, but his feet did a strange, rhythmic shuffle to avoid treading on a loose rug.

"My bad, little rug," Ketsana muttered, his voice sounding weirdly melodic. "I wouldn't want to mess up your weave. You look great today."

"Stop it," Ketsana told himself, his voice shaking. "I’m just talking to myself. People do that."

He needed fresh air. Maybe if he got around other people, his brain would force itself to normalize. He grabbed his hoodie and headed to the nearby local lunch counter. He had a standing date with Vilay, a friend who worked nearby at a record shop.

The walk was a nightmare. Ketsana found himself nodding respectfully at fire hydrants and offering brief apologies to a street sign that he merely brushed with his shoulder. By the time he reached the counter, Vilay was already there, scrolling through his phone.

"Hey, look who's alive," Vilay said, looking up with a grin. "Bounthavy texted me. Said you went total 'mad scientist' last night and started yelling about glowing eyes."

Ketsana slid onto the stool next to him. He wanted to say: I think I’m losing it, man. I think the game literally installed itself into my brain.

Instead, what came out of Ketsana’s mouth was: "Fair friend, the light of this morning is but a dim flicker compared to the radiant joy of our meeting. My rest was troubled by spirits of the code, but I stand before you now, humble and ready for bread."

Vilay stared at him, his phone halfway to his pocket. "Uh... what?"

"I said, I’m hungry," Ketsana thought. "Why did I use the word 'radiant'?"

"Ketsana, seriously, are you okay?" Vilay asked, leaning in. "Are you doing that Shakespeare stuff for the local theater? I didn't know you signed up for the drama club."

Ketsana tried to clear his throat. "I’m super normal, Vilay. I just didn't get enough sleep. My words are just coming out a little weird because my brain is fried from the tournament."

"Dude, you sound like you’re wearing a cape," Vilay laughed. "Sit down. I already ordered for us. Two ham sandwiches and some fries. You okay with that?"

"My spirit accepts this offering with the deepest gratitude of a thousand starving knights," Ketsana said, then immediately banged his forehead against the counter.

"Alright, that’s it," Vilay said, grabbing Ketsana’s shoulder. "I’m taking you to a doctor. Or a priest. Maybe both."

"No, stay! I can fix this!" Ketsana insisted. He tried to lock his jaw. "I promise, I’m just... I’m just having a moment."

The waitress, Khamla, arrived with their plates. She set the sandwiches down with a quick smile.

"Here you go, guys. Enjoy," she said.

Ketsana opened his mouth to say 'thanks.'

"Your service is a melody upon the winds of time, gracious bearer of grains," he voiced instead.

Khamla paused, her eyebrows shooting up. "Um... thank you? Do you need more napkins or something?"

"The fiber of the forest would be most welcome to cleanse my hands of the journey," Ketsana added.

Vilay covered his face with his hands. "He’s fine, Khamla. He’s just... having a theme-day. Just bring the napkins."

As soon as she was gone, Vilay hissed at him. "Ketsana, seriously, knock it off! You're making her uncomfortable. And you're making me look like I’m hanging out with a guy who just time-traveled from the fourteenth century."

"I can't stop!" Ketsana whispered frantically, his eyes darting around. "It’s the translation layer! Every time I try to talk, the system re-writes it to be more 'polite' or 'honorable' or something!"

"Wait, do you actually hear yourself saying that poetic stuff?" Vilay asked.

"Yeah! It feels like my mouth is a separate organism!"

"Check your settings, dude," Vilay joked, though his worry was evident. "Can't you just mute it?"

"I’m trying!"

[ SYSTEM: Social interaction detected. Maintaining positive reputation through elevated linguistic protocols. ]

Ketsana looked at the sandwich. His stomach growled. He reached out to pick it up.

His hand stopped six inches from the bread. It jerked back, then slowly moved forward again, hovering like a nervous bird.

"What are you doing?" Vilay asked, watching Ketsana’s hand hover over the ham. "Is the sandwich too hot?"

"My body... it won't touch it," Ketsana groaned.

"Why not?"

"I think... I think the Code is shy," Ketsana whispered. "Vilay, can you look away for a second?"

"What? No! I want to see this!"

Ketsana forced his hand toward the bread. His arm started vibrating with the intensity of the struggle. It was like trying to push two magnets of the same pole together.

"Please," Ketsana pleaded with his own arm. "I haven't eaten since yesterday."

"This is getting weirdly personal between you and that ham," Vilay said, picking up his own sandwich and taking a huge bite. "Maybe you need to invite the sandwich to dinner first if it’s so formal."

"Don't encourage it!" Ketsana snapped.

He lunged for the sandwich. At the last second, his hand slapped his own chest, and he ended up doing a low, dramatic bow toward the plate.

"It is not appropriate to feast while the eye of the comrade remains focused upon the consumption," Ketsana’s mouth declared.

Vilay swallowed a mouthful of fries. "Are you saying you can't eat while I’m looking?"

"Apparently!" Ketsana shouted, though it sounded like: "Indeed, for my internal nature demands a sacred solitude for the breaking of bread!"

"Fine, fine," Vilay said, rolling his eyes. He turned his chair around so his back was to Ketsana. "I’m looking at the wall. Happy? Eat your lunch."

Ketsana waited. Slowly, his hand relaxed. It moved forward and picked up the sandwich with surgical precision. He took a bite. It tasted amazing—standard ham and cheese, but to a guy whose brain was being controlled by an NPC script, it was divine.

"Is he gone?" Ketsana thought.

"You eating yet?" Vilay asked over his shoulder.

The second Vilay spoke, Ketsana’s jaw locked. He couldn't chew. He sat there with a lump of ham in his cheek, staring ahead like a statue.

"Ketsana? You still there?"

Ketsana made a muffled, rhythmic tapping sound on the table.

"I’ll take that as a yes," Vilay said. "Look, if this is for some viral video, you've already got enough footage. Let’s just finish and get out of here. You're starting to attract a crowd."

Ketsana managed to swallow as soon as Vilay stopped talking. He leaned back, his energy drained. He couldn't go on like this. Every minor social interaction was a battlefield where he lost his dignity to a dictionary from the Middle Ages.

"I’m gonna go home," Ketsana said, somehow managing to keep the words short enough that the Code didn't have time to 'elevate' them.

"Yeah, probably a good idea. Get some sleep, or maybe un-install whatever virus you got yesterday," Vilay said, standing up. "I’ll text you tonight."

Ketsana stood up. His body forced him to do a formal three-finger salute as Vilay walked away. Ketsana wanted to die of embarrassment.

He stepped out onto the sidewalk, squinting into the sunlight. The HUD elements were busy again, scanning random pedestrians.

Target: Level 4 Civilian.

Target: Level 2 Baker.

Target: Unknown.

Ketsana stopped. He looked across the street.

Parked near the hydrant he had apologized to earlier was a black van. It had tinted windows and a small, high-gain antenna rotating slowly on its roof. There were no markings on the sides, except for a small, stylized 'Aegis' logo on the corner of the bumper.

The window of the van slid down an inch. A small metal rod extended, scanning the air.

In the corner of Ketsana's vision, a new prompt appeared. It was pulsing a deep, warning red.

[ ALERT: High-frequency signature detected. System concealment mode: ACTIVE. ]

Suddenly, Ketsana felt his body go completely stiff. His legs began to move on their own, not toward his apartment, but away from the van, walking with a cold, terrifyingly efficient stride that he recognized from the North Gate fight.

"Hey! Wait! Where are we going?" Ketsana thought, terrified.

But his mouth didn't answer. His mouth wasn't apologizing to furniture anymore. It was silent, set in a thin, hard line as he moved through the crowd like a ghost through a graveyard.