Chapter 1: The Glitch in the Code

The autumn of 1995 was the golden age of PC gaming, though most people didn't know it yet. While the rest of the world was still figuring out what the internet was, sixteen-year-old Leo Vance lived in a different universe entirely—one measured in megabytes and saved on 3.5-inch floppy disks.

"Dude, check this out," Mike Chen called from across Leo's bedroom, holding up a pristine big box copy of SimCity 2000. "Still has the plastic wrap."

Leo adjusted his glasses and looked up from his beige CRT monitor, where he'd been tweaking his Doom configuration files. The room was a shrine to the digital age: towers of game boxes stacked against wood-paneled walls, PC magazines scattered across his desk, and diskettes organized in plastic cases like a librarian's filing system. Queen's Innuendo album played softly from his stereo, Freddie Mercury's voice filling the spaces between the hum of cooling fans.

"Where'd you get that?" Leo asked, though he already knew the answer. Mike's parents had surprised him with an early birthday present—a rare treat in their world where a single game could cost sixty dollars.

"Dad picked it up at CompUSA yesterday. Said I deserved it for keeping my grades up." Mike grinned, flopping onto Leo's bed. "Want to install it tonight?"

Before Leo could answer, there was a commotion in the hallway outside his room. Voices, unfamiliar and confident, drifted through the thin walls of his suburban home.

"Who's that?" Mike whispered.

Leo crept to his door and cracked it open. His mom was talking to someone—a boy their age, maybe a little taller, with perfectly styled hair and an expensive-looking polo shirt. Behind him stood an older man in a business suit, checking his watch impatiently.

"...just moved in down the street," the boy was saying, flashing a practiced smile. "My mom thought it would be nice if I introduced myself to the neighbors. Make some friends before school starts Monday."

New kid, Leo thought. In their small suburban neighborhood, new arrivals were rare events, especially ones who looked like they'd stepped out of a catalog.

"Leo!" his mom called. "Come meet Damian. He's going to be in your grade at Jefferson High."

Leo exchanged a look with Mike before reluctantly opening his door wider. Damian's eyes immediately swept Leo's room, taking in the computer setup, the game boxes, the Queen poster on the wall. His smile widened, but something flickered in his expression—calculation, maybe, or recognition.

"Whoa," Damian said, stepping past Leo's mom into the room without invitation. "This is incredible. You guys are seriously into gaming?"

Mike nodded enthusiastically. "Leo's got one of the best collections in school. We trade with people all over town."

"Trade?" Damian's father appeared in the doorway, looking decidedly less impressed. "What kind of trading?"

"Computer games, Dad," Damian explained quickly. "Like... educational software." He shot a meaningful look at Leo and Mike. "Right, guys?"

Leo felt a strange chill but nodded anyway. Adults didn't understand their world—to them, computer games were either educational tools or violent distractions. It was easier to let them think whatever kept them from asking too many questions.

Damian's father grunted and checked his watch again. "Five minutes, son. We have dinner with the Hendersons."

As soon as the man disappeared down the hallway, Damian's demeanor shifted completely. The polished surface remained, but underneath, Leo sensed something sharper.

"So what kind of games are we talking about?" Damian asked, moving closer to Leo's carefully organized collection. His fingers hovered over the boxes like he was appraising treasure. "The Settlers, Monkey Island, Wing Commander... man, you guys have everything."

"Most of these are originals," Leo said, a note of pride creeping into his voice. "Complete with manuals, registration cards, everything."

Damian whistled low. "That must have cost a fortune."

"We've been collecting for years," Mike added. "Birthdays, Christmas, odd jobs. Some of these are impossible to find now."

"Speaking of impossible to find..." Damian's smile took on a conspiratorial edge. "I might have something you'd be interested in. My dad's company relocated us from Seattle, and before we left, I got my hands on some pretty rare stuff. Beta versions, European releases, games that never made it to stores here."

Leo's heart skipped. In their world, such claims were the equivalent of someone saying they'd discovered buried treasure.

"Like what?" Mike asked, leaning forward.

"Well, there's this German strategy game—Kultur—never released in America. And I've got a beta of Quake that id Software was testing before they decided to go 3D instead of 2D."

Leo's skepticism warred with his desire. Beta versions were the holy grail of game collecting. If Damian really had access to unreleased software...

"I don't have them with me right now," Damian continued smoothly, "but I was thinking we could work out some trades. I'd love to get my hands on a clean copy of The Settlers. That game is legendary, and finding an original..." He shook his head. "Impossible."

Leo's hand unconsciously moved toward his prized copy of The Settlers. It had taken him eight months of lawn-mowing money to afford it, and it was arguably the crown jewel of his collection.

"Damian!" His father's voice boomed from downstairs. "Now!"

"Shit—sorry, I have to go." Damian pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. "Here's my number. Call me tomorrow? We can set up a trade. I'll bring over some of my stuff, you can check it out." He paused at the door. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed."

After they left, Leo and Mike sat in silence for a moment, the weight of possibility hanging between them.

"Dude," Mike finally said. "A beta of Quake? Do you know what that would be worth?"

Leo stared at the paper in his hand, Damian's phone number written in confident, flowing script. Something nagged at him—the way Damian had looked at their collection, the smoothness of his pitch, the convenient timing of his father's interruption.

But then again, what if it was real? What if this new kid really did have access to games they could only dream about?

The next afternoon, Damian arrived at Leo's house carrying a small cardboard box. He'd dressed down from yesterday—jeans and a T-shirt—but he still carried himself with that same confident air.

"Ready to see some magic?" he asked, settling onto Leo's bedroom floor.

He opened the box with theatrical flair, revealing a collection of diskettes in plain white sleeves. No fancy packaging, no colorful labels—just hand-written titles in black marker.

"Beta versions don't come in retail boxes," Damian explained, noticing their expressions. "This is how the developers actually distribute them."

He held up a disk labeled "Quake Beta 0.7" in neat handwriting. "This is from March of '95. Before they switched to full 3D. It's got gameplay mechanics they completely scrapped in the final version."

Leo's hands trembled slightly as he took the disk. If this was real...

"What would you want for this?" he asked.

Damian's eyes drifted to Leo's shelf, settling on The Settlers with laser precision. "I've been hunting for that game for two years. Clean copy, original box, manual..." He shrugged. "Seems like a fair trade. Rare for rare."

Mike shot Leo a worried look. The Settlers was irreplaceable. But a Quake beta...

"Can we test it first?" Leo asked.

"Of course! That's why I brought it." Damian gestured toward Leo's computer. "Fire it up."

Leo slipped the disk into his A: drive and typed the familiar DOS commands. The disk drive whirred, seeking, reading...

Error reading drive A:

Abort, Retry, Fail?

Leo tried again. Same error.

"That's weird," Damian said, frowning. "Let me see..." He took the disk, examined it, then handed it back. "Try it again. Sometimes these older disks need a couple attempts."

Three more tries yielded the same result. Leo's excitement began to curdle into suspicion.

"The disk might be corrupted," he said carefully.

"No way." Damian's confidence never wavered. "I tested all of these before I came over. Your drive might not be calibrated right. Different manufacturers, you know? Some disks that work fine in one drive won't read in another."

It sounded plausible. Leo had experienced compatibility issues before, though usually with much older 5.25-inch floppies.

"Tell you what," Damian continued. "Why don't you let me borrow The Settlers for tonight? I'll test this Quake disk on my system, make sure it's working, maybe make you a backup copy. We can finalize the trade tomorrow."

Every instinct Leo possessed screamed no. You didn't loan out original games. Period. But Damian's explanation made sense, and the promise of a Quake beta was intoxicating.

"I don't know..." Leo began.

"Look, I get it. Trust is earned." Damian stood up, shouldering his box. "Forget I mentioned it. I've got plenty of other people interested in these betas. Jimmy Morrison's been bugging me for weeks about that German strategy game."

Jimmy Morrison. Leo knew him from computer class—a notorious game pirate who'd trade anything for anything. If Damian's collection ended up in Jimmy's hands...

"Wait," Leo said. The word escaped before he could stop it.

Damian paused, hand on the doorknob, eyebrow raised expectantly.

Leo looked at Mike, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. They were sixteen years old, living in the wild west of digital media, where trust was the only currency that mattered. And sometimes, you had to take risks to score the impossible.

"Okay," Leo said, pulling The Settlers from his shelf. "But just overnight. We trade tomorrow, right?"

"Absolutely." Damian's smile was brilliant, grateful, entirely convincing. "You won't regret this, Leo. I promise."

Twenty-four hours later, Leo learned the true weight of promises from strangers.

Damian arrived late, his apologetic smile already in place before he'd even knocked. "Sorry, man. Family stuff. But I've got good news and bad news."

The bad news was predictable: the Quake disk was indeed corrupted, unreadable on any system. A dud. The good news, Damian explained, was that he had something even better—a beta of Duke Nukem 3D with levels that never made it into the final game.

"What about The Settlers?" Leo asked, his stomach already sinking.

Damian's expression flickered—just for a moment, so briefly Leo almost missed it. "Yeah, about that. Small problem. My little sister got into my room and..." He gestured helplessly. "Kids, you know? The box got a little damaged. And I think she might have written on the manual."

Leo felt the blood drain from his face. "The Settlers" wasn't just a game—it was months of saved allowance, birthday money, the pride of his collection. And now it was damaged by some kid he'd never met.

"But hey," Damian continued quickly, "the disks are fine. Game still works perfectly. And like I said, I've got this Duke Nukem beta that's absolutely incredible..."

As Damian pulled out another plain white diskette, Leo caught Mike's eye. His best friend's expression mirrored his own growing horror.

They'd been played.

But it was too late now. The damage was done, and Damian's silver tongue was already weaving new promises, new possibilities, new ways to turn their passion into his profit.

The golden age of PC gaming had found its serpent, and he was smiling like he belonged there.