by Kevin Murphy
Zelle, who looked as though she had been waiting for the right moment to say something and failed, took this time to interject herself, saying she wouldn’t be sticking around.
“I simply want to level up my shaman skills,” Zelle said. “The way we currently hunt isn’t doing much for me on that front, I’m afraid.”
“I’m a little over-leveled for the area, truth be told,” said Hebbeson, “so I’m going to head out as well. Feel free to look me up in the future.”
Dakkon thanked the two for showing him the ropes, and after a quick round of farewells, the pair was off—leaving Dakkon, Ramses the rogue, Finnegan the bard, and Damak the warrior.
“I’m pretty sure the four of us can handle this,” said Dakkon.
“Yeah,” agreed Damak in his gruff voice. “I have no doubt we can, but these stalls will be closed soon after dark, and since soldiers like myself have to report for morning training, a little rest is a must.”
“Well then, we may need to put this on hold for a few days,” said Dakkon. “Monday is here already, and I really ought to eat and shower before I head to work.”
The others understood all too well. An eight-hour shift pulled players out of the game for a little over two and a half in-game days, but jobs were a necessity and seemed to grow increasingly more difficult to find each day.
“So, what?” said Ramses. “You can’t expect us to just sit on this information without putting it to use for three days.”
“I think he can,” said Damak. “The krimmer don’t seem to be going anywhere.”
“It’s a rather lively town,” said Finnegan. “I’m sure we can find something else to do in the meantime.”
“Hunt or wait, tell people about the ice, or don’t,” said Dakkon as he verified the time. “It’s just about 23:00 right now. I’ll return in a little over three days. If you want, I can make some ice for you when I’m back and even have a friend who might be interested in manning a stall, but I, personally, have no intention of stirring up any more trouble by doing something so asinine as trying to sell people ice. I’ll contact the three of you when I’m back on and we can head out to hunt then, but right now, I’ve got to get moving.”
Dakkon ignored their responses and quickly registered them as friends. He added Zelle, Hebbeson, and Benton for good measure since he had recently grouped with them, and composed a quick message to Letis who, he assumed, may very well log back in before he had a chance to. The message read:
|To: Letis
| I’m at work, but when I log back in I’ll be in the south end of Tian. There might be some money in setting up a stall near there. If you’re interested, try to bring some large troughs filled with water. I’ll explain what’s going on in better detail later, but need to run. -D
Dakkon waved to the others and thought to himself, “Now, what was that quick logout phrase? Logout now!”
|You may logout immediately by invoking the command ‘Logout Immediately’.
|Logging out immediately will leave your character vulnerable to attack for five minutes.
|Exiting in this manner will be a less pleasant experience.
“Logout immediately!” thought Dakkon.
Dakkon did not experience the sensation of bits of the world being yanked away from him bit by bit as he had before. Instead, this time it felt like he was being yanked. The sensation was intense and sudden, as though he had slammed the accelerator to the floor in a high-performance dragster. The world began to spin.
Corbin felt like he was choking on the scent of ammonia. He was spinning, dizzy, disoriented, and he was almost certain he was going to pee himself despite barely drinking any water before he logged in. He’d never spent so long in the capsule, and his decision to drink less before entering the pod left him dehydrated. The confusion of sensations might have overwhelmed him in other circumstances, but underneath it all he had a driving goal keeping him on track: he had to get to work as soon as he could manage.
Corbin pulled himself from the upright, stopped pod and smelled himself—an experience which he found to be undesirable. As he ran to his bathing chamber to relieve himself and freshen up, he called out, “Pixie! Have a cab pick me up in five minutes!”
“You’ve got it, boss,” said the artificially intelligent assistant. Though often playful or even a bit snarky, assistant programs such as Corbin’s pixie tended not to act anything short of efficient when they detect urgency or anger in their owner’s voice.
After one of the quickest showers of his life, Corbin threw on his clothing, grabbed an individually wrapped jerky stick, and ran out the front door of his apartment, still soaking. Corbin’s cab had been waiting on him for a minute, but there was no impatient driver to express a hint of displeasure. What awaited him was an unblemished, black and red, gleaming and beautiful duplicate of a year 2000-something model supercar. Corbin was in a rush and wouldn’t be heading very far, so it didn’t matter to him much today, but almost everyone preferred the more modern, dome-shaped vehicles since they provided more room and tended to have nicer seats, better interior stabilization, excellent noise cancellation, and robust internet connections. Some of the earlier self-driving cabs, such as the one before him, had attempted to catch the eyes and ears of their customers, but modern cabs focus on the market-tested perks that would best satisfy the average commuter.
Corbin climbed into what would have once been the driver’s seat, still dripping a bit from his shower. As soon as he was inside and closed the door, a voice rang out.
“Where ya headed, stud?” asked a suggestive, husky, and disembodied female voice.
Corbin sighed and gave the address to his place of work. There was no use in telling an autocab to speed up in the event of a perceived emergency. They went as fast as they could unless directed to cruise at a leisurely pace.
The already-running car played the sound of an engine starting up and revving, then the female voice said, “Hang on tight.”
Corbin’s thoughts raced as he recalled the events of his three-day weekend while he sped off towards work. Despite his newest hobby’s incredible ability to turn one hour into eight, he was confident this was going to be the longest shift he would ever work.
\\\
Corbin arrived on site with a minute to spare and scanned his employee identification badge at the door, which acted as both a keycard and his time punch. He then set himself to working diligently, doing both odd jobs and moving hand trucks of materials between coworkers who made double his wage for half the effort. He always put forward effort. In truth, he valued his job highly. Sure, it didn’t pay the best, nor was he often thanked for the careful considerations he made, but it was something he could apply himself to. An hour into his shift, Corbin’s supervisor stopped by.
“Decided to show up today, did you?” the man, Melvin, asked with a smirk. Despite the ambiguous smile, his eyes were cold and unsympathetic.
Corbin was, perhaps, the perfect employee for a supervisor like this. He always completed his work dutifully. He never did anything on the job that could be misconstrued as not being work related. In other words, he stayed focused and kept his head low—ensuring he’d always have a place. He had never done anything that could earn himself a negative review. He needed the stability that the work provided him. Now, the very first opportunity to receive criticism was upon him since he had called off his shift on Friday, and he was prepared to hear all about it.
“Yes sir,” said Corbin. “I’m sorry to have missed Friday.” He kept his answers brief to avoid any complications and to show an air of deference to his supervisor. His meekness at work was not something innate, but a learned behavior. Corbin found, as twisted as it may seem, that the longer he acted spineless at a job, the longer he was able to keep it and therefore keep his own place and set his own terms outside of the workplace.
“I want you to work twice as hard today to make up for the missed work,” said Melvin. “Make sure you come by to see me before you leave.”
“I will, sir,” said Corbin, adding a subservient nod and smile to assuage any doubts his supervisor may have.
The supervisor did not return the gesture and instead walked onwards. Before he was fully out of eyeshot, Melvin smiled and cracked some inside joke with another person on the floor.
“It’s fine,” Corbin told himself. “Just another day at work.”
By the end of the day, Corbin felt ragged with exhaustion. It was a true blessing for him that the sleep-like state induced by Chronicle seemed to be about as restorative as sleep. He could certainly see himself binge-playing the game for quite some time while the vivid, digital world remained fresh and wonderful to him. Corbin made sure every task set before him was handled promptly. He hastily transferred pallets with a hand truck, loaded and unloaded materials, and used any second of downtime to meticulously clean and service the tools of his coworkers. The drudgery of work did not matter to Corbin, though. Nor did the aches and pains he acquired from constant activity. Sooner or later, one of his devises would take off and bring him some small fortune to work with. Then, and only then, could he afford the luxury of figuring out where his pride and comfort fit into the picture.
Corbin reported to supervisor Melvin’s cubicle desk. He always found it odd that his coworkers—with some experience in their trade skills—reported to other tradesmen who were out and working, but he reported to someone sitting behind a desk.
Corbin walked up and waited until Melvin was through with his phone call before saying, “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, yes,” said the supervisor. “You really caused us quite a few problems by not showing up on Friday.”
No one he worked with had mentioned any difficulty caused by his absence. In fact, it was common for a few of the others to not show up on a somewhat regular basis. It didn’t matter, however. He would nod and smile to keep things flowing smoothly.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” said Corbin. “It won’t happen again.”
“It certainly won’t,” said Melvin. “Do you know how hard it is to find a job these days? There is a waitlist of people vying for your position.”
“I understand,” said Corbin, contorting his face to express his shame. “I know how important my role is here. If something doesn’t make it from point A to point B, a bottleneck will slow down production. I take my job very seriously.”
“I’m not sure you do understand,” said Melvin, “but I’m sure you will learn to. I’ve already had you taken off the schedule. We can’t have someone prone to flaking out whenever they feel like taking a three-day weekend. This is a business, after all.”
Corbin was speechless. He had kept his head so low to the ground this time that he was certain he wouldn’t be fired. He worked so hard for such a small amount of money. What more could his supervisor hope for? Corbin closed his eyes and inhaled slowly and deeply; as he did, he thought about the people waiting for him in another, nearby world. He thought about the backbreaking effort he put into his job on a daily basis. He thought about how Melvin had asked him to work twice as hard knowing full well that the man intended to have him fired. For the first time in what felt like years, Corbin found the weight of responsibility flutter off his shoulders. As though a switch had been flipped, he found that he simply didn’t care.
This was not the first job Corbin had been fired from, but in those few instances, he had learned from his mistakes and felt as though he had become a savvier employee for his next position. This time there was nothing to be gained. He was being told he lost his job for missing a single day of work which he had given notice for. It didn’t make any sense.
“Yeah… I’m really lucky,” Corbin thought to himself mocking his own situation. The game had it wrong, Corbin was not lucky. He never had been. But then, maybe he needed to rely less on luck and take matters into his own hands.
“So, then you’re firing me?” asked Corbin.
“You’ve only got yourself to blame,” said Melvin. Corbin thought, for the first time, that the supervisor looked awfully small despite his round frame.
“Because I missed a day of work?” Corbin sought clarification.
“With an attitude like that, it’s a surprise you’ve been here this long,” said Melvin.
Corbin couldn’t help but grin. He chuckled. The chuckle and grin merged and transformed into a full, mouth-agape, hearty, and unnerving laugh.
“What’re you lau—” started Melvin, but he was cut off as Corbin ceased his laughing, locked a serious gaze on the ex-supervisor, and raised one finger abruptly as he had seen the cart riding sorceress do, so recently. Corbin stared past his upraised finger at the surprised man, then, after a moment cracked a smile once again.
Corbin turned his back on the situation. He shook his head as he walked out the door, leaving the unsettled Melvin in his wake. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had put up with that weasel of a man for so long. Today’s autocab ride home would feature a stop to pick up a big, juicy hamburger, he decided.
Chapter 19: The Grind
With his eyes closed, Dakkon could hear the sounds of players pursuing one another for groups and the clinks of bustling commerce. He could also, with no great effort, smell the increasingly-familiar aroma of harvested krimmer glands. Despite the foul scent, Dakkon was excited to be back in the world of Chronicle. He opened his eyes and was greeted by the busy southern end of Tian. After accounting for his detour to get a delectable double-stacked burger, his commute time, and his time spent working, he had been out of the game for a little over 10 real world hours. That amounted to about three and a half days in the game that he’d missed. He had messages waiting for him.
|1st message — Sender: Ramses
| Get on already, you bastard. What’re you just deciding to work a surprise double or something?
|2nd message — Sender: Letis
| For facksake, Dakkon. I respawned in Appa’s Eastside. You know, that place we SCAMMED? I appeared right in the middle of the café area as the morning staff was setting things up and I legged it. I don’t rightly know what’s possessing me to do it, but I’m heading towards Tian. There just so happened to be a timely military escort heading in that direction. I’m going to let you split my travel fees. -Letis
“Letis,” thought Dakkon. “Where are you?” He waited for the tug of the invisible, mental, line he’d cast. Like a fish on the hook, the line pulled taut.
“I’ve been getting a stall thrown together just south of Tian on some lunatic’s recommendation,” replied Letis. “If you want a reason or explanation, then I’m not sure I can provide you with one.”
“You’ve already got the stall and troughs?” asked Dakkon telepathically.
“I’m still setting the stall up. There’s some city ordinance that won’t let me do it inside of town,” Letis transmitted. “I’m not sure why those cooks can get away with it, and I’m honestly surprised it’s okay for us to set up right outside of town. The troughs of water would have been easier to grab if I’d had my cart.”
“Ah,” thought Dakkon, somewhat ashamed. “I… didn’t bring that with me to Tian.”
“I know you didn’t,” replied Letis. “I was just giving you a hard time. I had to pick up a new cart to get the supplies down here. You can’t really have expected me to lug wood, nails, and liters upon liters of water south of the city without a cart, can you? That’s sadistic.”
“I forgot to tell you to bring a chisel?” asked Dakkon. “No matter, I’ll fetch one and bring it down for you.”
“And what exactly will we be doing with a chisel?” responded Letis.
“Don’t worry about that yet,” thought Dakkon. “How long until you get the stand set up?”
“I could probably get it done by some time tonight,” replied Letis. “But I’m not feeling particularly motivated since I’m entirely in the dark here.”
At that moment, having no source of income, Dakkon made a firm decision. Though he had wanted to distance
himself from the ridiculous operation, what he needed right now was money. If selling ice could make him a portion of what he’d need to pay his rent, then he’d embrace it fully, whatever the reputation it garnered him.
“We’re going to sell ice, you and I,” Dakkon telepathically transmitted to Letis. “Trust me.”
“You’re kidding. First lettuce, now ice? Are you trying to make a name for yourself as some sort of criminal junk peddler?”
“Hear me out first,” thought Dakkon. He explained the situation with his groups and the krimmer. He didn’t bother the higher-leveled player with an invitation to fight boars.
“You know, Dakkon,” said Letis telepathically, “As dumb as it sounds, I think that could just about work.”
“I did say to trust me,” Dakkon commented.
As though ignoring the comment, Letis continued, “Look, I’m gonna see about a better way to get water down here than just carting it back and leaving the stall unattended whenever I need to resupply. While I’m at it, you should take some time to spread the rumor that cooling down goods will increase profits.”
“I’m planning on grouping with three others to get EXP and harvest some krimmers,” thought Dakkon. “We’re gonna return to sell the cart load over and over until some players see us receiving a much higher than normal reward for our efforts. At that point, I’ll let you know to start advertising and I’ll come freeze your supplies. I’ll let you figure out how much to charge since you did a fine job of haggling in Derrum. Just know that it made what should have been worth 24 gold worth 120 gold. You should be able to push for quite a bit.”
“Sure, leave that up to me,” replied Letis. “Now get to work so I feel less insane for building a water stall outside of a wealthy city like Tian.”