Office Wars: Bathroom Politics

by James Patton

  The skull turned towards me, and the jaw dropped open with a smile, and I fled the cubicle.

  “What the …?” I started to say. “Did you see that?” I asked looking at Bob.

  “I did. Is it alive?”

  “No, but are there undead in this game?”

  “Doubt it. Look.” Bob said pointing towards the skeleton’s mouth. “Something is in there, go ahead and grab it,” Bob said.

  Nausea hit me hard as Bob used his Salesman pitch on me. I punched him on the arm. “Screw you, man.”

  “Boys are such babies.” Nevi said scaring the crap out of both of us, and she walked over and took the object out of the thing’s mouth.

  “Maybe it's a good thing she didn’t read the letter first,” I whispered to Bob, and he gave me an honest to god chuckle.

  “I heard that. And here, it's a key card.” She said handing it to me.

  You have acquired a Key Card.

  Why the hell was everyone giving me all this stuff? I wondered.

  “Think this letter means anything,” I said handing it to her with a straight face. Bob and I watched curiously as her face paled, but that was not the strangest thing. Nevi’s back was turned to the skeleton, so she did not see it’s hand reach up and pinch her butt. I was too shocked to move.

  She squealed and ran out of the cubicle, and I swear that thing was smiling.

  “Did that thing just goose me?” She asked, and I wanted to laugh. I really did, but I was freaked out a little. When none of us laughed, its jaw went back into place, and it turned and looked right at me. Then it flicked me off.

  The chair squeaked, as it tried to turn its chair back around. It did not stop looking at me as it turned slowly back around. Until all we saw was the back of the chair. It was the longest minute of my life.

  “I am so pretending that did not just happen.” Nevi said.

  “Agreed.” Bob and I stated at the same time, and we backed away from the cubicle.

  “You three ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Zingo said, and I shook my head trying to get the creepy shit out of it.

  “You do not want to know. And why the fuck did it flick me off and not you two? And the Vent-Guy, he was a dick to me too.” I asked them all.

  “It is in your head,” Bob said.

  “Sinner points,” Zingo said as his eyes did that twitchy analyst thing. “Why do you have Sinner points?”

  “Because of this,” I said showing them the lighter. “I picked it up and put it in my pocket without thinking about it.” It was mostly the truth, they did not need to know when I picked it up. Figured I’d stay out ahead of that train wreck.

  You gained Saint Points.

  “Why did you get sinner points for that?” Bob asked.

  “Violating our pact. Remember we share all looted items. Didn’t think about it at the time, but hand it off if you want.” I said handing it over to Bob who did not take it.

  “Naw, keep it. If you had that, why haven’t you used it?”

  “Honestly? Afraid to use fire because of the warehouse thing. Did not want to get eliminated for something stupid.” I said.

  “Yea, but it is still handy to have, is there anything else you wanted to share?”

  “Naw, that was it. Promise.”

  “I believe you.” Bob said, and Nevi chimed in a ‘me too.’

  “Did not mean to put you on the spot like that,” Zingo said after Bob and Nevi wandered off.

  “Do not sweat it. I am not sure why I did not mention it. I am not big on lying either so if anyone had asked I would have told the truth.”

  “Are you in this game to win?” Zingo said.

  “Not at first. Things have become complicated, and I made a deal with my employer. I mean it is not in my nature to quit, but until yesterday evening I had no real incentive to win, other than to help you guys get to the end. I am starting to realize most of you have a legitimate reason to beat this game, but using ‘I hate to lose’ as my reason for winning seemed weak.”

  “You are a strange one Onion. Not even my analyst skill can figure you out. I know one thing that might drive you on.” Zingo said.

  “You going to tell me or make me sit here in suspense?” I shot back at him.

  “No one has ever beat the game. Do not get me wrong, the last person left in the game takes the title, but none of those people have ever reached the top floor.” Zingo said smiling at me, knowing he had found a weak point of mine.

  “Wha- Ha- But-” I stopped myself. “You suck.”

  “Probably, I do like men,” Zingo said and walked off.

  It had taken several seconds before I realized what he had just said. Not that I cared, but it came out so matter-of-fact that I had no snappy follow-up comment.

  “Close your mouth, might give me the wrong idea.” He said laughing but had not looked back at me.

  “Are you joking?” I asked as I caught up with him.

  “Nope. I am just a man that likes men and do not need to flaunt it. Not that it matters anymore, but gay men were divided over a masculine vs. effeminate acceptance of who we are. It seems like a dumb argument in hindsight, but it's still prevalent. These days, you can have sex with a WereBear, so it seems like a moot point.” Zingo said grinning. “Don’t worry, you are not my type.”

  “What? Human?” I laughed, but I found the WereBear comment disturbed me.

  “Yes- Wait. No. You fucker.” He started laughing and was holding his sides. After a few moments, he was back under control. “Dammit Onion, you were supposed to say straight. Come on you ass, let's find an exit, you seem to have the luck with you.”

  “Except for that creepy ass skeleton,” I said and explained what Bob, Nevi, and I just went through.

  “Are you kidding, you found another piece of flair and a key card. How is that not lucky?”

  “Speaking of, what do you make of this note? Any hidden meanings?” I handed over the fucked up suicide note. Or is a homicide note?

  “Other than being mildly disturbing, no alarm bells are going off. Mind if I hold onto it?” Zingo asked, still reading.

  “Nope, all you.”

  “There may not be a code here, but that worm thing is a warning if I have ever seen one. I think the meaning this time is just literal.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “The Drones are infected, maybe. Just go with it, if they act like they do because of some worm-like parasite, then as we kill them we potentially expose ourselves to the worm right?”

  “That.” I stopped talking. It made sense, and I found the idea creepier than the skeleton. “Well, at least it's providing a theme. If you are right. What about that Project Manager? She was not like them.”

  “Queen? Like a hive mind? I imagine if we did not draw the Drones off, that fight would have killed us all. However, there is not enough information to say, and I think we should be cautious fighting anything.”

  “Especially if they are wearing high heels,” I muttered and Zingo’s face split with a big smile.

  “Onion!” Fungi yelled across the massive room, which made everyone turn to see him waving me over. Out of curiosity, everyone headed over.

  “What is it?”

  “Look familiar?” Fungi said as he turned the laptop to me.

  At first, I was not sure what I was looking at, but as realization started to dawn on me, I almost started laughing. It was the layout of the first floor, and it highlighted the Architects room. There were several other floor plans too.

  “We have to give up the laptop don’t we?” I asked, knowing that it was too much of a cheat not to mention it.

  “Yes,” Bob said. “No debate, we call them now.”

  “Game Masters, we need you,” I said frowning.

  “Onion, so glad you invoked us, we need to talk to you.” The Game Master from yesterday said as he appeared.

  “First, take the fucking laptop. And do not tell me something is not rotten with this game.” I snapped and sh
oved it into his face. The look on the GM’s face was priceless, it went from angry to stunned to shock and back to angry.

  “Where did this come from?” He said.

  “Conference room, from the Project Manager fight.”

  The GM started glowing, and data flowed off him like static electricity. We all involuntarily took a step back. The corona around him flared briefly, and we saw it envelop the laptop.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Fungi asked.

  “No idea. You know, aside from whatever the GM is doing, do you find it odd that there are no other players around?” I asked. “I mean sure some Drones got out, but they are relatively easy to bring down.”

  No one said anything, most were still staring at the GM who abruptly came back into focus.

  “We thank you for reporting this, and we will investigate. In the meantime, take this for your troubles. That fight should have netted you a tablet.”

  You receive an OddiTab. A common touch screen tablet. Classes that can use electronic devices can use this to access secure rooms, doors, and containers. There is enough of a charge on it for twenty hours of use, after that, you will need to charge it.

  I promptly handed it over to Alexa who took it and pocketed it. At least it was not a total wash, we still had a device and it was probably better than the laptop, minus the floor plans it contained.

  “Onion, the fight with the Project Manager is why we want to talk to you. The lighting in that storage room interfered with what we could see. We are not accusing you of cheating, but how is it you survived that fight?”

  “Not sure I follow? I ran around and got my ass kicked until help arrived.” I said.

  “He means the crowd control effects,” Zingo said. “I saw Onion trying to hide hoping to use line-of-sight to interrupt her skill. I told him it was an audio skill and that it would not work. So that crazy bastard slapped his hands over both ears and blew out his ear drums. Could not hear crap, so her skills were ineffective. No cheating, just outsmarted the encounter. I thought it was stupid at first, and after that, I figured it was exploiting. Finally, I realized he was playing the game in his normal unconventional way.”

  “Thank you for that explanation. Onion is that what happened?”

  “Yes, but why are you guys picking on me so much? I cannot imagine it is common that one person runs into GMs on three different encounters. It is starting to feel like a bunch of bullshit, and I would have quit by now if I had any choice.”

  “We apologize. Weird things seem to happen to you or around you. Like the laptop, you do not find it odd that and you are here near the end and it is not even the three-hour mark?”

  “As opposed to what? You act like I have a point of reference to call it odd. I do not, and the moment we found out what was on the laptop we gave it up. If nothing else that should give us some credibility. We keep going in circles, and I keep telling you something is wrong with the game, and you choose to ignore me and tell me to shut up. Look around you and open your goddamned eyes.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find Alexa there. It was enough to calm my temper, but not the frustration I had with this bullshit. She just gave me a nod and then stepped back again.

  “You are right of course. You repeat that and we will just straight kill you, in the game of course. I cannot tell you more than that.”

  “Are you sure it is Onion that is the point of reference for these events?” Zingo asked. “Seems like our entire group benefits from this. Aiding Onion will assist the rest of us, so logically speaking he could just be the test dummy.”

  “Gee thanks, Zingo,” I said but felt myself smiling.

  “We are looking at all of it. Even the fact that you might be the catalyst used to open passageways for those that are following your path. I assure you we are investigating everything. If you come across anything else, call for me personally. I am GM Curtis.”

  “Sure,” I said and meant it because Curtis is the only person that has not acted like a dick so far.

  “Onion, going forward I am the only person you will have to deal with. This is a huge concession from way high up due to how you were mistreated from the outset. Private.” Curtis said, and a ding was heard by him and I. “I am going to ask a favor, but I will not demand it of you. Is that ok?”

  “I’m not a hothead man. You show me some common courtesy, and I return it.” I told him.

  “Then please stop saying the game is rigged or cheating or whatever. There is a lot more at stake than you know. The moment corporations stop believing that this system works, is the moment Office Wars is no longer a deterrent for all out war again.” Curtis said. “You may not have experienced that directly, but my father was killed in those conflicts.”

  “Sorry to hear that man,” I told him and was sincere.

  “Before the games, a lot of people died for real. This game is the only thing that limits the death toll. I realize you did not have a choice, but unlike any other game in the whole of Neuroma, this is the most important one in existence.”

  “If the bullshit stops, then I will stop. But only if you tell me something… Does the name Vicky mean anything to you?” I have no idea why I asked that. Curtis froze for a moment, but it was enough for me to know I was about to get a bullshit response.

  “Sure I know several, you have her last name?” Curtis asked, but I knew he knew exactly who I meant. I doubted they would tell me anything, but I had my answer for better or worse.

  “I do not know. Does anyone have one anymore?” I said playing it off and hoping he bought it.

  Interlogue

  May 21st, N120.

  “Hurry the hell up.” She urged him. “We have a small window to pull this off and if you want me to cancel your Serfdom then you better not get us caught.”

  “This is all legit right?” The man said, worrying that this offer was too good to be true. He had no idea where he was at, but most of the stuff here was way more high tech than the apartment he was berthed at.

  “It is legit, and stop gawking.” She snapped at him, moving quickly down the hallways. He reluctantly followed.

  As a Serf he was not even allowed to log out, so he had already committed to this course of action. So when she brought him to a room with 001 etched above the door, he grew concerned.

  “Relax. There is a Pod in here, you climb in and never log out. What is your name?”

  “Conor Ward.” He told her.

  “NO!” She admonished him. “Our deal is you give up that identity. Anyone asks you do not have an Old World identity. Understand?”

  “Got it. My name is Vultur3Strik3.”

  “Seriously?” She asked.

  “You try to come up with something. Billions of names are already taken or reserved.”

  “Whatever, I don’t care.” She said shutting the door behind them. There were no cameras in this room, so for the moment, they were safe.

  These Pods were extremely sophisticated compared to the ones used by the general populace. The side of the Pod lit up, and a screen appeared as she touched it. The lid went opaque, and she could see a man inside. Punching in the release sequence so fast Conor Ward could not follow, a hiss sounded as the top started to rise.

  A man stepped out wearing a skin tight suit, and Vultur3 knew what it was but had never seen one. The suit was called SecondSkin.

  “You ready for this?” Vicky asked the newcomer, helping him out of the Pod. She brushed his hair aside and kissed him lightly on the cheek. It was a tender moment, and Vultur3Strik3 shifted uncomfortably.

  “I am ready. Who is this?” He asked, his head swiveling between Vultur3 and Vicky.

  “This is your replacement, his name was Conor Ward, so that is now your name.” She told him.

  “Wait, he is taking over my identity?” Vultur3 asked.

  “Yes. Remember what I said. We will provide you enough money each month to pay for all your rental expenses, so unless you do something stupid, you will never be a Ser
f again.”

  “I’m ok with it, I will just pretend I’m a Lifer. Is my old account gone too? So no more Vultur3Strik3?”

  “Up to you, I can transfer it over. As far as the system knows, it never belonged to Conor Ward. Or you can start over, but make up your mind quick.”

  “Definitely start over.”

  “Even easier,” Vicky told him, and it made sense. As a Serf, they did not get to keep any items they gained because anything of value went to the auction house and the proceeds went towards their debt.

  The new Conor Ward checked out the old one and realized they looked eerily similar. At a casual glance, they could be mistaken for each other.

  “It is freaky. Like looking in a mirror.” The old Conor said.

  “That is kind of the point,” Vicky said. “Now get that SecondSkin on and get in. Our time grows short. Here.” She said, pulling up his new information on the Holo-Pad. “As per our agreement, there is your account, and status. You are now a Citizen, and there are the thirty thousand creds in your account. We are good right?”

  “We are good. And thank you.” The Vultur3 said. He pulled on the discarded SecondSkin and climbed onto the acrylic pad. “Seriously. Thank you, I am glad some people still have some honor. I do not know a lot, but I do know you are Cynthia’s daughter. Whatever you are doing I hope you succeed. She was respected among the Serf community.”

  “Thank you,” Vicky said, and new Conor rubbed her back consolingly. “If you are ever found out. Blame me, by that point they will not doubt you. Enjoy your new life.”

  The lid clicked down into place, and she tapped the screens a few more times. She did not want to kill the old assistant, so she upgraded him to a world AI. There was one in development called Seventh Talon, which seemed interesting.

  After that, she initiated the new user protocols, and a few seconds later she could see the old Conor working through the menus to set up his account and avatar.