Carl moved the seat back forward. Not trying to sleep though. He tugged the chair around, bringing it to the edge of the building where he could stare off into the armor factory across the street. Yeah, this feels like a place where I could get some serious thinking done. He settled in, feeling like he was already on the brink of having a great idea.

I wonder if I got the recipe for those pork shanks if it'd work in real life? Carl frowned. It seems like crafting is more involved than just pressing a button, so maybe all the food recipes would carry over? The idea staggered him. I could learn all kinds of awesome dishes to make at home without even having to leave the office!

Wait, I was supposed to be…

A pair of blue status window appeared.

Inchoateness increases to 1.

System Initialization complete.

"Dismiss all." Supposed to be thinking about this stupid network thing now.

Carl focused, and then he thought.

He turned the problem over in his head, but he quickly began to grow distracted.

Can't freaking focus with this bugging me. I'll just check real quick, and then I'll at least come back to let Mina know I need to go. She should be fine here since the doors can lock. Pertinax seems like an okay guy, too, and I can't imagine anyone's gonna cause trouble with such a big operation across the street. "Logout," he said grudgingly, followed by, "logout."

Carl blinked rapidly, adjusting to his poor real world vision. He grabbed his glasses, noting that once again his monitors hadn't yet entered energy saving mode. Upon placing his glasses on his face, he grew confused. What the heck. It's only been three minutes? Still not even noon?

There were, apparently, six minutes remaining until noon as he now saw, both in the AR display of his glasses and the clock on his computer monitors.

A moment's consideration was all he gave it. Alright, gotta be some kinda time dilation thing. Not gonna question it now since I can use it. I'll check it out later for sure.

He took his glasses off again and logged back into the game, once again immediately touching the login orb for his character and returning to the hot, arid rooftop and the too-comfortable recliner he'd been occupying.

No more distractions. Time to figure this thing out. How can I present this…

Carl thought.

He thought about the problem, and he thought about Gab, who he'd been interacting with.

No, he thought about Gab, whom he'd been interacting with.

With whom he'd been interacting.

Yup, that was it. Annie would be so proud that he was thinking about his grammar.

He thought about the project from many angles, focusing on performance, stability, security, and ease of maintenance while he watched people across the street pounding on various metals and throwing them around. They sure were industrious. It seemed like the old man with the dog was some sort of veteran, because many people would bring various items over to him, apparently for inspection, and then run off, either back to where they'd been to repeat previous actions or to a different station to begin the next phase of armor forging.

The wider-than-average Pertinax himself seemed to be working just as hard as everyone else, taking up the role of Biggest Hammer Guy and pounding the heck out of all the biggest slabs of metal, frequently while being harried by a woman wearing a sporty-ish top and a bandanna-y head thingy that was too far away to see clearly and who was maybe his wife.

Cars pulled up occasionally and were met by the same woman who had greeted Carl and Mina, some customers picking up orders, some going in to be measured for something or other, and some apparently just coming by to chat or flex their characters' muscles, showing off poses to the obvious amusement of whoever was nearby.

The small sun had set, and the big sun was lowering in the sky, but Carl paid these facts no mind, spectating with focus as another car—which had doors to prevent its occupants from falling out, because things here were far more sensible—pulled up and a bulky man who had driven off some time earlier hopped out and walked into the smithy carrying an open-topped crate. The other smithy workers moved towards him with varying degrees of haste, each one taking an item out of the box, which had apparently been used for a food run, which—

"This view is quite nice," Mina's voice carried over to him from the direction of the hatch.

Carl started, coming out of his thinking fugue and feeling suddenly sluggish from all the life force that his high-level Galaxy Thunk skill had required for its sustained channeling. "Yeah," he managed, coming to the realization that his attempt to think about the problem that he faced had failed because he'd accidentally focused on the wrong thing. "Lot going on."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Ooh, could I trouble you to assist me in moving this, Carl?"

Carl looked back and saw Mina trying with little success to wrestle the other recliner over towards him. "Sure." He pushed his footrest down and stood up, then walked back and picked the chair up from the bottom with both arms, taking extra care to make sure his precious recliner wouldn't be damaged as he moved it into position next to his near the edge of the roof.

"My thanks," she said, plopping down into it and smiling over at him. "The tools that Decius Minucius left in the workshop will prove most useful. I'm eager to begin."

She looks so happy. This is what games should be like. Carl nodded. "That's great. Anything I can help with?" Rooftop thinking was a bust. This time. Gonna try again, but maybe I'll face a different direction. Forge-y stuff was too interesting.

"I believe I'll begin tomorrow," she said slowly, staring down at the smithy where a hubbub was growing, with people now racing over to gather in a big cluster. "I've devised an idea which I'm intrigued to further explore. Also, I wouldn't be averse to another of those pork shanks as well as a potato."

"Alright, but no eating in the recliners," Carl said. No idea if these things can be repaired or whatever. Gotta imagine with how realistic most stuff is that grease would be a pain to get out. Probably some whole profession dedicated to it.

"They are nice for sitting," Mina said, getting out of her chair with obvious reluctance.

"They recline all the way so you can sleep on 'em, too," Carl said, pushing himself to his feet.

"Yes, sleep," Mina said, giving him an odd look which quickly changed into what Carl was recognizing as her I've-had-an-idea face. "Would you mind leaving one on the second floor? I imagine I'll sleep more restfully there."

Carl tossed one chair and then the other into his inventory. "Uh, I guess?" Huh, she must really like sleeping in-game. Maybe I should give it a shot sometime. A little nap could be just what I need to free up my subconscious creativity.

Mina headed back to the hatch and started her descent, and he followed.

"My idea is perhaps somewhat strange," Mina called back.

"Oh?" Carl took a couple steps down and worked to re-fasten the lever on the hatch.

"I'd like to examine the, ah, thing that you've purchased. For my petty revenge," Mina said, ambling around the second floor.

The thing? Oh. Carl pulled out a recliner and set it carefully on the stone floor. "This good?"

"A little nearer this wall would be nice, if you could," she said, gesturing for him to move it away from the front doors into a position next to the back wall in the corner.

Carl gently maneuvered the treasured chair into place, verifying that it had sufficient space to fully recline without scraping against the walls before he was satisfied. "Remember, no eating in these," he admonished her for good measure, not wanting this to turn into another case like when Annie had forced Sammy to clean her room a year ago and the entire floor had been covered with crumbs and empty food wrappers.

Mina scoffed at him. "Carl, these chairs are most certainly impervious to stains and similar types of damage."

He looked back at the recliner with skepticism, focusing on its delicate appearance. "Really?"

"Have you forgotten from where they came?"

Carl considered it. Oh. I guess that makes sense. Which means the reason they can fully recline… He grimaced. "Seriously?"

"Oh, I'm quite certain," Mina said, giggling softly behind a hand as she watched his expression shift.

His grimace deepened when he considered the true extent of what he'd just considered. "So… Do they ever… Uh…" He cringed, realizing that he'd just been unknowingly sitting in a chair that people had likely had sex on many, many times for hours on end. "Do they clean them at all?"

"Observe," Mina said, talking a step closer to the chair.

Then she spit on it.

"What…" Carl's exclamation halted as the spit vanished from the back of the chair.

"There you have it," Mina said. "Perfectly clean at all times."

"Yeah, but it's still…" Carl wrestled with the knowledge that the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in had been designed and used for the sole purpose of having sex in a fetish club in an age-restricted zone in a video game—again, not that he was playing a game right now, of course, because he most certainly wasn't.

"Carl, do you truly believe I would wish to sit or lie in a chair that my family members have fornicated in were I not entirely certain that there were no remnants of such events?" she asked, her expression growing more serious.

That's… I guess that's a good point. And it's just a game, so it's not like I'm really… And they're really comfortable… "I guess…" Gah, why couldn't they be less comfortable!

"It will have to do," Mina said while walking back towards the stairs. "We don't have sufficient moneys to be throwing marks about carelessly on bedding and other trivialities."

"We don't?" Carl said, following her down to the main floor.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "We can perhaps afford a week or so of food, but the price of such an incredible workshop has consumed most of our funds."

"Huh." Even in modern games I guess you've still gotta have money to do stuff beyond going raiding. Kinda cool. I like that it teaches some fiscal responsibility and budgeting. Annie's probably years ahead of me in having thought of all this. She really is the best.

Mina tapped her booted foot on the ground in the space between the rear of the car and the wall. "This will do. If you wouldn't mind setting it down here?"

Carl rubbed his beard. I guess it's not a big deal. Mina's over eighteen. And she was the one who had the idea to buy it to begin with. "Yeah, okay. Inventory." He retrieved the overly-realistic sex doll and set it on the stone floor, taking care in case it was fragile.

"How strange to see it up close in this manner," Mina said softly.

It is pretty weird. Carl looked again at the sex doll, feeling like he knew exactly whose idea this was. Gotta be Linda this time. I know I was wrong the last time, but there's no way this kinda thing wasn't her idea. The sexy-ish tattoos, the almost-but-not-quite-human look, even just the general shape of it—gotta be Linda. Wonder what the male ones look like. Probably got like, two foot long—

"I'd like to activate it," Mina said, now looking up at him. "If you have no issue with such an experiment, of course."