Telepathy

I pull out my phone to call my brother and see if he wants to jump online and kill some aliens. We haven’t had a session in a while. As I reach for my phone, it starts ringing. Of course.

I answer with one word. “Telepathy.”

“Nice,” he chuckles. “Were you just about to call me?”

“Yup, literally pulling out my phone. Got time to jump online for a bit?”

“Yeah, wife’s out with her girlfriends, and I just put the kids down. Perfect timing.”

We boot up one of our old favorites, the kind of game we never win but love anyway. It’s all about outsmarting some 13-year-old prodigy and, of course, the trash talk that follows.

Two hours go by in a blink, and then I hear one of his kids start crying in the background. “Welp, that’s my cue,” he says, laughing softly. “Duty calls.”

“Alright, man. Good night. Talk soon.”

I wake up in the middle of the night with a gut feeling. Something’s wrong. Really wrong.

I reach for my phone, my mind spinning. It hits me like a punch to the chest. He’s gone. Not in some tragic, shocking way—just… gone. No nefarious reason. Just one of those things that happens, where life blindsides you.

The next week and the funeral is over before I can process it all, and now I’m just… mad. Mad at the world, mad at fate, mad that he’s gone and we don’t get to hang out anymore. Mad because I know that I’m sad, but I just feel angry.

I try to sleep, but it’s useless. I toss, I turn. I think about his kids, his wife. I’m sad for him, yeah, but more sad for us. For everyone who won’t get to see him again until it’s our turn to take that same journey.

I need a distraction. Something, anything. I turn on the console. Maybe I just need to shoot some aliens. It’s what we’d do together to unwind, and maybe… maybe that’ll help.

As the console boots up, I stare at the screen, not really thinking. Almost on autopilot, I send him an invite. It’s stupid, I know, but I do it anyway.

Then the screen lights up with a response.

“Hey bro. Telepathy.”

I freeze, staring at the screen. I put on my headset, my hands shaking. My voice cracks as I speak. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

And suddenly, I’m sobbing into the mic. He talks me through it, just like he always did. The conversation feels so real, like nothing’s changed. We talk while I play, just like old times. Every word feels like an anchor pulling me out of the storm of grief, even if it’s just for a little while.

But even as I bask in the relief of hearing his voice, something in me knows. It’s four in the morning, and this can’t last. I need sleep. Badly.

I wake up the next morning, my mind spinning. Did that really happen? Was it a dream? Did I just hallucinate from exhaustion?

Or… was it real?

If it was real… what do I do? Do I tell anyone? I mean, this could be something huge. A breakthrough. Proof of the afterlife, or maybe even that we’re living in a simulation.

But then there’s the other side. What if the government finds out? They could take my console. They could take everything.

I sit there for a long moment, staring at the console, wondering what comes next.

And then I hear his voice in my head, as clear as day. “Telepathy, bro.”

A smile breaks across my face. I don’t have to figure it all out right now. I don’t have to decide today. For now, I’ve got this moment, and that’s enough.