The three walls of Max’s cubicle were bare except for a single photograph held up with clear tape. The picture showed two men surrounded by climbing gear standing at the base of a mountain. Both of them had untamed beards and were surrounded by a group of sled dogs. 

“I’m going to get there one day, Gramps.”

Max pressed his fingers against the photo before turning back to his computer. A blinking cursor stood at the top of an empty page. The blank screen was like a void that ate away at Max’s will as he sat there, fingers poised over still keys.

“Hey, Chatter,” Max turned as he heard his last name followed by three loud knocks. “You’ll still have that report by four, right? I need to get it upstairs pronto.”

“Oh, hi Chett,” Max turned to face a man in a three-piece suit. “I’m, uh, it’s just the research is ...”

“Great, get it done. Listen, this is Kevin. He’s a classer, just got back from Alaska and the boss wants you to show him the ropes.”

“Wait, I don’t…”

Chett put a finger to his ear, “Go for Chett.” He began walking backward while giving Max a thumbs up before disappearing into a beige sea of cubicles.

“So, uh,” said Max, “you’re a classer?”

“Yep, I’m like a third level Sweeper. My uncle got me into a crew doing cleanup behind a group of delvers up in Alaska, you know it’s super top secret and all, but you seem pretty chill.”

“That’s —"

“My uncle, Brett, says that I’m like the only classer here. Keep my nose clean for a few months and I’ll be, like, your boss and shit. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be cool.”

“Okay, well I’m working on—”

“Hold that thought, bro. I have to holler at that cutie in the red. You hold down the fort here, and we’ll catch a couple brewskis later. Deals?”

Max watched his new trainee walk away, committing numerous workplace violations including harassment and insubordination. But what could Max do? Kevin may have been worthless and annoying, but he was still a classer.

Max sat in silence before a wide smile came over his face and he withdrew a small orb from a pocket. Slowly, and with reverent care, he placed it on the desk in front of him. It was smooth and white and seemed to be made of some sort of ceramic.

“Hi Max,” said a chipper voice. A brunette with long bangs appeared over the wall of Max’s cubicle. “Nice toy.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Oh, hi Darla.” Max snatched the orb and put it back into his pocket. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” she blushed before continuing, “it’s just a few of us were wondering what was up with the new guy. Is it true,” she leaned down into the cubicle to whisper, “he’s a classer?”

“He’s a glorified garbage man, barely has three levels and he thinks he’s the shit.”

“Third level?” Darla's cheeks reddened even more as her eyes widened. “Wow! I never thought …”

“Darla,” Max interrupted, “Can you let me get back to work? I’m sure you’ll have plenty to gossip about without me.”

She harrumphed, crossing her arms as she sank back into her own cubicle. As she fell back into her chair she couldn’t resist shouting one last barb through the thin cubicle walls. “By the way, Max, how are things with Samantha?”

This day just needs to be over, Max thought. The only thing tiding him over were the thoughts of getting home. He had gotten so close last time. Tonight, he was going to finish the first level.

If that was going to happen, he needed to finish this report. Max looked around, but he finally seemed to be alone. He carefully removed the orb and placed it in his palm. Lines of faint blue hieroglyphs appeared on the sphere as it began to slowly spin.

Max wrapped both hands around the orb as it came to a stop.

“Welcome, User,” said a computerized female voice that only max could hear. “What are your commands?”

“Hello, Eve,” Max thought, “Show stats.”

Maximillian J. Chatter

Class: Chameleon (4)

Stamina: 12/12

Mana: 4/4

Might: 2

Intellect: 2

Reaction: 3

Techniques: Fade, Re-spec

Max studied the screen in front of him. He was happy with the way he’d allocated the meager four points he’d gained, but the even split wasn’t what he needed now.

“Re-spec,” he thought, “allocate all available points into intellect.”

“Re-Spec successful,” said Eve, “All points allocated to Intellect; the user is granted the Scholar role for the next 47 minutes, 15 seconds.”

Max immediately felt his limbs grow heavy as if gravity had suddenly doubled. Everything else, however, gained a new energy. His eyes were drawn to a pile of folders, and he instantly began to calculate the angle of each document. Max closed his eyes and repressed the instinct to organize.

When he opened his eyes, he turned to his work computer. Information from charts he had read an hour ago effortlessly flowed into his mind. Max had casually perused the charts and documents Chett had given him, but he had been overwhelming at the time. Now, every fact and date was as familiar to him as his own name. 

Two-thousand units shipped to Japan ... Seventy percent increase ... last quarter market share ... 

Facts and figures spilled onto the page, seemingly unbidden. Time slipped away until a voice brought Max back to reality. He looked away from the computer and glanced at the readout from the command orb; there were only a few minutes remaining before his stats reverted.

“Chatter,” Chett’s voice brought Max’s typing to a stop, “You listening to me? I need that report. The boys booked a four o’clock tee time, but I have to run that report upstairs before I can bounce.”

“One second,” Max typed a few more lines, “It’s printing in your office … now.”

“My man,” Chett clapped Max on the back and began walking away. “Oh,” he turned back, “don’t forget to get your own numbers done before you leave. You’ve got a performance review coming up.”

“No problem, Chett.” Max's shoulders slumped. 

Fuck, he thought. It'll be hours before I get out of here.