Character

James would love to claim that his life was fruitful and he was arriving in his twilight years with little worries. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Despite the many sacrifices he has made though his long career, things are not panning out as he had hoped.

From a young age, James worked his family's farm from dawn to dusk. It was hard, it was tiring, it was hot, cold, humid, windy, quite frankly, it weathered on him. He loved it. The sense of accomplishment he felt watching as the fields shifted from season to season, and at the end of it all, you got the 'fruit' of your labor. It was simply exhilarating.

James would have probably remained on that farm if not for two things; love and money. Around his late teens to early twenties, James met the love of his life. She was his opposite. She was flighty, whimsical, creative. She was everything to James. For his own sake, he was content to work those fields, but he wouldn't allow his belle to live such a laborious existence.

The man had a knack for details. When it came to farming, he knew just the tool for the job, just the mix of chemicals, just the right soil condition. Experience and interest in the subject made him aggregate knowledge like no other. He also remembered the names of every regular buyer, supplier, and tangent business in the area. He would off-handedly remember who to talk to in order to get things done, and this internal network of connections served James well when it came to business.

The farm flourished, and by his late twenties to early thirties, most of the neighboring properties came under his purview. Each step of expansion broadened his horizons, expanded his influence, and amassed his wealth. James didn't mind that his sense of fulfillment was dwindling. His wife easily filled that void. She was able to go to school and follow her passion for art. They were even thinking about kids. How could he worry about such a 'small' subset of his own happiness? Everyone gave things up as they got older. Hell, what he was 'giving up' was grueling farm labor.

This trend continued. James had a son, his monetary needs increased, and so to did his workload. From local shops and industries, James had expanded much further. He had delved into the transportation of goods; not only his own but for others in the area. This took his goods to the coast where shipping and exports came into his view. Another goal, another industry to conquer. Up until this point, James had been a big fish in a small pond, but going international was a completely new battle.

What tore him from the clutches of his empire was cancer. It wasn't his own. Now in his mid fifties, James couldn't bear to look at the date. Each day that passed, his belle grew weaker and weaker. For her, he had built an empire as firm as stone, a company that was too big to fail. And yet, what was most important to him fell through his fingers like loose sand. That very same empire felt like an afterthought. Top of the line medical care, the perfect accommodations and his undivided attention. James set aside everything to take care of her for her last years.

Blinded by grief, he didn't realize he wasn't the only one hurting; not only one mourning her loss. The neglected small figure buried in James' shadow suffered alone; his son became a stranger. Greed, contempt, entitlement. Desire festered in his son in the absence of love. He thrived academically but after the passing of James' wife, his son's ambition grew in a dark way. He coveted the industry his father had built; convinced his father cared more for it than he had his family. In the saddest twist of fate, James wanted nothing to do with it.

The chasm that formed between the two was something that James didn't know how to bridge. He was able to observe the changes in his son. The tonal shift was abrasive and uncomfortable. He could tell his son wanted the reigns, and James was apt to pass them on but he didn't know how. In the most short sighted method imaginable, James decided an indirect succession was best. Feigning senility, James wanted his son to step up and take control himself. It wouldn't be smooth, but it should've worked.

The crash was abrupt. One moment, James was in the back seat of his car, his driver slowly pulling out of the parking garage. The next, the sound of glass, the smell of gas, the pain in his head; everything faded to black. Snippets of sound were heard, whiffs of smells, the occasional touch was felt, but for all intents and purposes James was catatonic. That muddled dream state was agonizing. Memories flooded in, glimpses of his wife, regrets about his son, and strangely, fond memories of being on the farm. These sorts of scenes repeated endlessly as an unknown period of time passed until eventually, the darkness was broken by a white room where James found himself face to face with himself.

Unbeknownst to James, he was stagnating on a bed in a hospital room. A monotonous beep resounded every few seconds. Affixed around his head was a VR device that someone must have placed upon him. Sitting on his bedside table was a cheap prepaid phone with the lingering image of a QR code lighting up its screen.