What Helps the Grass Grow

The world had already ended once for Ray Clayton.
Everything after that was just paperwork and rent.

He sat at the cracked kitchen table, hands wrapped around a chipped mug, staring down a black pool of instant coffee like it owed him an apology.
The apartment was dead quiet — except for the hum of the fridge and the faint tapping of rain against the window.

It was always raining in this part of the city.
Or maybe it just felt that way.

Ray checked the clock. 5:04 AM.
Twelve minutes before he had to leave for the hospital.
Fourteen hours of a double shift ahead.
A lifetime of debts behind.

Across the room, Marsden shuffled in wearing a school uniform two sizes too big, trying to pour cereal into a cracked bowl without waking anyone else.

He was barely a teenager — around fifteen — with wild brown hair that looked like it had fought a tornado and won. His blue eyes sparked with a raw, hungry kind of energy, the kind only the very young or the very stupid still carried.

He wasn’t tall yet.
He wasn’t strong yet.
But he carried a fire inside him so bright it could have lit the whole room.

Ray leaned back and let his eyes drift across the ruins of their world.

Trey was slumped over on the battered couch, the heavy frame of a man who’d built muscle working in kitchens and warehouses, but who had let it all soften under the weight of grief and resignation.
His brown hair was shorter than the others’, messily cropped by hand, and he had the kind of tired, sharp blue eyes that used to promise jokes and fists in equal measure — but now mostly promised silence.

Beyond a locked door: Dean.

The second youngest before Marsden but somehow seemed older than he was.
He was tall for his age but thin — all wiry limbs and pale skin inked with black tattoos that curled up both arms like living smoke.
His brown hair fell loose to his shoulders, usually pulled into a rough ponytail, and his blue eyes — when you could catch them — never seemed to be focused on the real world.

Only on the screens.
Only on the games.
Where things made sense for him.

Ray set down his mug and rubbed his face.

The state had given him a choice, back when their parents died:
"Sign them over. Give them up. Let the system place them in different homes."

They said the boys might have better lives apart.
More chances.
More future.

Ray had looked at their faces —
broken, abandoned, desperate —
and made the only choice he could live with.

He took them in.
Even if it meant trading their futures for survival.
Even if it meant slowly drowning together.

The only shimmer of hope in the apartment sat by the door —
three copies of the new VR game Elysium, stacked neatly, untouched.

He had spent months scraping the money together —
shaving dinners, taking extra shifts for the overtime, wearing sneakers so torn they might as well have been socks —
all so he could buy one thing that might make his brothers smile again.

No copy for himself.
That wasn’t the deal.
He carried the weight. They carried the dreams.

Dean hadn’t shut up about a brand new hit game coming out soon. Elysium. First of its kind. You needed to get an implant in the back of your neck just to play it. A fully immersive VR game that lets you take complete control of your character. Dean wants the whole family to play together. They all use to play together when they were younger. Maybe he was trying to turn back time.

Seeing Dean light up with joy was rare and Trey agreed that they should all play as if they were kids again. Just once. Ray had promised Marsden that he would join them after constant nagging. However Ray couldn’t afford four copies so he just got the three for them. Now Ray saw the advertising everywhere he went.

Welcome to Elysium, a boundless frontier where your adventure begins the moment you step into a world crafted entirely by you. This isn't just a game—it's a living, breathing universe waiting for warriors and artisans alike, a land of endless opportunity and untamed possibilities. Here, strength is rewarded, courage is tested, and creativity reigns supreme.

For those whose hearts beat to the rhythm of battle, Elysium offers a vibrant, unforgiving landscape shaped by combat. Explore treacherous deserts and battle for survival beneath the blazing northern sun, or test your might amid the frozen tundras of the East, where victory demands as much resilience as skill. Form alliances, wage wars, and leave your mark on history as you seek out legendary treasures and unmatched glory.

Yet combat is only one path. If your spirit calls toward craftsmanship and creation, Gem City lies at the world's heart, a medieval haven with countless empty shops and untouched workshops waiting just for you. Master your trade as a blacksmith, tailor, farmer, or builder, contributing to the economy of a city made entirely by players like yourself. Transform the grassy highlands of the south into lush farms, explore the dense western forests for rare resources, or forge new communities beneath wide-open skies.

Elysium is yours to shape, yours to conquer, yours to build. A world with no NPCs—only real people forging lives, friendships, rivalries, and legacies. Step through the gates of Gem City and seize your chance to become legendary. Whether you wield a sword or hammer, this world is your canvas, and the adventure awaits.

"Yo," Marsden said, bumping Ray's shoulder with a tiny grin. 
He nodded toward the door.

There were four boxes now.

The fourth — dented, scuffed — had a receipt sticking out of it.

Trey.
Without a word.
No grand gesture.
Just a receipt crumpled into a box.

One copy of Elysium just for Ray.

Ray choked up a bit at the thought of Trey working extra just for him.
He ruffled Marsden’s messy hair until the boy squeaked and slipped out into the rain.

The walk to the hospital was fifteen minutes of cracked sidewalks and broken streetlights.

Every step was heavy.

He passed broken fences, hollow-eyed junkies, cars that hadn’t moved in years.
This part of town wasn’t just forgotten.
It was buried.

Inside the hospital, Ray clocked in.
He moved bodies too heavy to carry.
He cleaned wounds that would never heal.
He watched strangers die without family, without comfort, without anything but the hum of cheap fluorescent lights.

Every second, he felt the pull in his bones —
Quit. Collapse. Give up.

He didn’t.

Not because he thought he could win.
Not because he thought he deserved to.

But because quitting wasn’t allowed when other people depended on you.

And three broken boys needed him more than they would ever admit.

When he finally stumbled home, the apartment was electric.

Trey was half-leaning against the couch, grinning.
Marsden practically bouncing out of his skin.
Dean, for once, standing in the living room, hair tied back, controller hanging forgotten at his side.

"No excuses, old man," Marsden said, shoving the battered copy into Ray’s hands.
"You’re playing with us."

Ray looked at them.
At the hope still flickering in their tired faces.

Maybe he was too tired to argue.
Maybe he wanted — just once — to believe in something again.

"Alright," Ray said, managing a cracked smile.
"Just once. I’ll schedule the appointments for the O.D.I.N. installation.”

Ray scheduled the appointments for the four of them to install the O.D.I.N. device. The installation was cheap. Too cheap for something so new and so popular. All four installations were cheaper than one game. Ray couldn’t help feeling like there was a hidden fee somewhere.

That weekend the four of them were off to a clinic that was built specifically for the O.D.I.N. installation. The building was some warehouse that went out of business a long time ago.

Ray pushed open the door first. The hallway beyond was dim and sterile, reeking faintly of coolant and old antiseptic. A single flickering light guided them to a room lined with faded monitors, outdated medical beds, and walls yellowed with time. It looked more like a chop shop than a medical center.

Behind a desk cluttered with tools and wires, a man in a stained lab coat looked up from his screen. Mid-forties. Tired eyes. Balding. Calloused hands and a voice that sounded like it’d given too many warnings too late.

“You the four for O.D.I.N. Installs?”

Ray gave a short nod. “Yeah. Appointment was under Clayton.”

The man glanced at his tablet. “Four Ocular Drive Integration Nexus units. Full neural link. No sedation requested.” He looked up again, eyes narrowing. “This isn’t like a headset. Once it’s in, it’s in. You don’t back out mid-process. You understand that?”

“We understand,” Ray said.

The man sighed, standing up. “Then let’s get started. One at a time. Shirt off, spine exposed. Head down, still as you can. The system calibrates to your neural rhythm—flinch, and it might not sync right.”

Ray looked back at his brothers. Trey said nothing, arms crossed. Dean cracked his knuckles with a grin. Marsden looked pale but nodded.

Ray stepped forward. “I’ll go first.”

He laid down on the surgical table. Cold. The technician adjusted a small rig above him—thin metal arms folded down like a spider, each tipped with sensors and a retractable needle.

“This’ll pinch.”

It did more than that.

Ray felt the needle drive into the base of his neck—quick, surgical. The machine hummed as data ran through it. His vision blurred, then sharpened. A wave of heat flushed through his spine.

O.D.I.N. INTERFACE INITIALIZED
NEURAL SYNC: 93%… CONNECTION SECURED.

It felt like a door opened behind his eyes.

He blinked slowly, heart racing. The pain faded almost as quickly as it hit, leaving a strange clarity—like static had been cleared from his thoughts.

Ray slid off the table. “Next.”

Trey moved forward without a word. The procedure was fast. Efficient. He didn’t flinch. When it was done, he stood up, calm as ever.

Dean made a show of rolling his shoulders before laying down. “Time to explore a whole new world.”

He gritted his teeth when the needle sank in. “That’s the kind of pain you feel right before a good time,” he muttered.

Marsden stepped up last. His hands were shaking as he peeled off his jacket.

“You alright?” Ray asked.

“Yeah,” Marsden whispered. “What if the system messes up? What if it messes me up?”

Ray rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just hardware. You’re still you.”

Marsden nodded and laid down. The machine whirred, the needle entered, and he gasped hard—but stayed still. The sync completed.

When it was over, the technician leaned back in his chair and wiped his hands on a rag.

“All four linked. You’ll feel weird for a day—don’t fight it. Your eyes might see sharper. Colors might look off. Your perception’s running through the O.D.I.N. lens now. It’ll stabilize.”

Dean smirked. “When can we play?”

The man tapped on his tablet. “Soon as you activate the dive chip. The O.D.I.N. just links your brain to the system. The Chip of Elysium? That’s your trigger. Once you place it in the reader, O.D.I.N. takes over. Think of it like a video game console and the disc of a game. O.D.I.N. is the system that reads the game. The chip of Elysium is the game itself.”

Ray’s brow furrowed slightly. “That’s it? Just insert the chip?”

“That’s it,” the man confirmed. “You’ll be in before your body hits the floor.”

They left the clinic together. No one spoke until they hit the street.

The city was quiet—night settling in over flickering neon signs and quiet alleys. Their breath fogged in the cold.

Ray looked up at the dark sky.

Trey broke the silence. “Feels like I’m on drugs or something.”

Dean bumped shoulders with him. “We haven’t even started.”

Marsden walked close to Ray, silent, thoughtful.

Ray glanced at them all. Brothers. Fighters. Dreamers.

And now, pioneers. Some of the first people to ever put a piece of hardware in their necks.

They made their way home.

The Chip of Elysium waited on the kitchen table—its silver edge glinting beneath the lamp like a coin of fate.

Tomorrow, they’d slot it in.

And everything would change.

Dean practically kicked the front door open. “Let’s goooo!” he shouted. “Do you guys feel that? We’re about to be legends.”

Ray followed behind, slower. “Don’t trip over yourself, Dean.”

Trey entered next, holding the door for Marsden. Marsden trailed behind them all, eyes fixed on the glowing chip like it might float away if he blinked.

Dean sprinted down the hall. “Full-dive VR, baby! You know how long I’ve dreamed of this?! No more lag! No more disconnects! Just you, the game, and whatever you can survive!”

Ray didn’t answer. He walked over to the table and inspected the reader. The Chip of Elysium pulsed softly—cool, steady light. Waiting.

Trey sat on the couch, arms crossed, silent.

Marsden stood near the wall, staring at the chip.

“You alright?” Ray asked him gently.

Marsden nodded once, but his voice betrayed him. “I think so. It’s just... kind of terrifying.”

Ray smiled faintly. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Ray followed Marsden into his room.

Ray took the chip, carefully aligned it with the ODIN port on Marsden’s neck, and clipped it into place. “Sit down.”

Marsden eased onto the bed. Ray knelt beside him.

“Close your eyes. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

Marsden obeyed. Ray pressed the activation button.

Marsden stiffened, gasped—and went still, his head taking a dive forward to the floor.

Ray reached up and caught him before he could fall.

Carefully, quietly, Ray lifted his youngest brother, shifted him onto the bed, and tucked a pillow beneath his head. He grabbed the crumpled blanket from the corner and laid it gently over him, smoothing it out like he used to when they were kids and Marsden fell asleep on the couch after cartoons.

“You're safe. I’ve got you little man.” Ray whispered.

Ray stepped into Dean’s room next. The lights were still on, monitors casting bright blue across the cluttered shelves and walls plastered with game posters. Dean was already gone—slumped forward at his desk, head resting on his arms, a peaceful grin spread across his face like he was already in paradise.

Ray shook his head with a small chuckle.

“Of course you didn’t even wait.”

He walked over to the shelf, pulled down a folded fleece blanket, and draped it carefully over Dean’s shoulders. Ray took his time turning off all the lights and electronics in the room as he left.

“You gotta slow down kid. Don’t leave them behind in there.” Ray whispered as he closed Dean’s door.

Trey was on the couch, adjusting the reader. He glanced at Ray as he entered.

“Dean already gone?” he asked.

Ray nodded. “Slumped over like a corpse.”

Trey gave a rare smirk and laid back fully across the couch—one leg over the armrest, the other dragging along the floor. He looked up at the ceiling, fingers running along the edge of the reader.

“You going in tonight?” Trey asked.

“I shouldn’t,” Ray said. “Work in the morning.”

Trey said nothing for a beat. Then, “You always say that.”

Ray looked away.

Trey raised his fist.

Ray bumped it.

“Don’t stay too long,” Ray said.

Trey shrugged. “Don’t stay behind.”

He pressed the button. Trey's body tensed and then relaxed completely.

His eyes closed.

Gone.

Ray stood alone.

He walked to his room, closed the door behind him, and let out a long breath.

The room was plain—barely lived in. His jacket hung on the chair. A stack of unopened envelopes waited on the desk. Rent. Utilities. Final notices.

He stared at them for a long time.

“I can’t afford this,” he muttered to no one. “I don’t have time for games.”

But his mind wandered—back to Marsden’s nervous glance. Trey’s quiet encouragement. Dean’s uncontainable joy.

Just a few levels.

He picked up his own chip.

“This is dumb,” he whispered, even as he clipped it to his neck. “But I promised.”

Ray walked to the center of the room.

O.D.I.N. SYSTEM ENGAGED
IMMERSION BEGINS IN 3… 2… 1…

His breath caught.

A warmth spread through his spine.

He felt his knees give.

He tried to stop the fall but couldn’t.

The light behind his eyes turned blinding white.

Ray hit the floor hard, limbs slack, face turned toward the ceiling.

He was already gone.

The apartment fell silent.

Four bodies.

One game.

No way back—just the promise of one more level.

And somewhere far beyond the edge of anything they could imagine…

WELCOME TO ELYSIUM.