Author's Note: Second Edit of the first chapter! Hopefully its a better introduction into my writing and give a better backstory to the character.
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Black text lay across a white screen, a blinking line waiting for me to input more. Code strung out looking like an archaic language meant to confuse the gods with its complexity and simplicity, though it was finicky enough to be something created by them. I was a code writer’s spell check since most of the programs that the company I worked for didn’t have anything that worked as effectively as a human. Long days followed this type of work, working for ten to fifteen hours was the status quo even if you only got paid for an eight hour day, there was no way to put in only eight hours and finish on time. “Salary jobs really do suck.” I muttered under my breath as I rubbed my tired eyes.
My cubicle, if I was to call it mine it was only because I owned most of the decorations around me in this space, was about ten feet long, and the same wide. A pink flamingo sat in front of me, every few seconds taking a sip of my coffee with a backdrop of a beach somewhere I couldn’t afford to be. I took pleasure in having the most tacky, and stereotypical decorations in my cubicle from the plastic Hawaiian girls that hips jiggled when you bumped the desk, to the plastic palm trees above my computer screen. Being deemed the ‘King of Tacky Cubicles’ three years running wasn’t really an accomplishment at the yearly Christmas party since the award was specifically made for me but I hung them up proudly despite that.
The code in front of me wasn’t actually my work, it looked like it which was enough to keep the bosses at bay, but it was actually a code directed at the coffee machine. I doubt anyone knew that it was hooked up to the network, and could be controlled remotely, and I’ll be damned if I don’t abuse that as quickly as I could. Making a pot of coffee was more time I had to spend around my ‘peers’ that constantly looked down on the person who just cleans up their messes. I should be paid more than them in my opinion, it takes more knowhow to keep their gibberish scripts running then any of them have any right to complain about.
My main goal was to keep my head low for now, three years inside an actual company helping with code would look good on my resume for a guy who had ‘no prior experience’. Being the top of my graduating class didn’t help as much as I thought, everyone referring to that little detail with a look of indifference. I was just a number, a number that had no work experience, so I was a risk to hire. It made me wonder why I studied so hard during those classes if being first, or last in the class meant the same thing so long as I passed.
Saving the file onto the desktop, and giving it a cheerful mug as an icon, I launched it as I gathered up my stuff. The clock informed me that it was the earliest I could leave this place, and I wasn’t going to wait for more work to end up on my desk because I ‘look bored’ or some stupid excuse like that. Five minutes I was out the door, with a fresh cup of coffee in my hands, god bless the Italians for making such good joe.
A homely looking Ford was waiting for me, a knight in shining armor if I had ever seen one, with a click it opened letting me into its worn down seats. As I started the car there was a bang at the window, a quick look showed it was Fred, one of the lead Programmers, which meant that he relied on me a lot more than others to make sure his code had no errors. None of the credit for these error free programs ever made it to my desk, but an optimist would assume the bosses know. Looking out the window I wave, pulling the car into reverse leaving him there dumbfounded. He pointed to a USB stick, obviously something he wanted me to work on during the weekend, feigning ignorance I gave him a thumbs up and drive off leaving him confused.
Looking back, I half expected Fred to be running after the car waving the USB stick in his hand, instead a man stands in the middle of the parking lot. He had the vibe of one of those men that sold you ‘Rolox’ watches, and other knock off brand items, with his long dirty trenchcoat clenched close to his body and seeming far too baggy. Our eyes met, at least I felt like they did as a baseball cap seemed to hide his face in an impossible way, but the feeling sent a chill down my spine.
A blaring horn brought me back to my senses as a car went by, the driver being nice enough to wave at me with his middle finger extended. Two birds found themselves on my hands in response, and I set course for home. It was a quick drive home, a mere hour of travel sadly like the statistics say, most accidents happen close to home.
A car horn blared, a white light, searing pain, I assume that was all from the car crash, but that might have been my life flashing before my eyes since most of my actual free time was spent sitting in a car getting to and from work. It was sad, because I had major plans this weekend, the unopened game case will have to be opened by someone else. That should be the last thing on my mind, but sometimes you just don’t want to think of the immediate, “I just got hit by another car, will I survive?” immediately. I’ve always thought of myself as a pessimist so thinking about things like my survival that’ll only make me depressed.
Time seemed to slip by, though it wasn’t a concept that my mind could grasp with the pain, and the even worse numbing feeling around my arm, and ribs. Hours may have passed, or minutes, but I know I wasn’t awake for most of it. It seemed as though my consciousness was a drowning man, only breaking to the surface every once in awhile to scream for someone to notice him.
Gasoline was all I could smell, and taste, a faint tapping sound of a liquid dropping onto metal in the distance was probably the source of the smell. The twisted metal carcass of a car lay slain, like some mythical beast bleeding it's black blood onto the ground, it's bright eyes flickering in and out as its breathed its last mechanical breath. I would have laughed, if the pain in my ribs would have allowed it at the thought of driving a mythical beast to work every day. A man quickly came over, and his face went pale with horror letting me know my condition, followed by the loud bang of his truck door, as he speed off fleeing the scene meant no one was coming to help me.
Gagging on my saliva, and blood it seemed like nothing was working as it should, tears streaming down my eyes, the hot trail down my cheeks left me with a calm feeling. I understood that there was nothing I could do, and resigned myself to my fate, I guess this was the stage of acceptance that people talked about when you knew you would die. I assumed by fuzzy almost peaceful mind was due to blood loss, or maybe lack of oxygen since my lungs hurt too much to fill them much more than one or two small breaths. Time seemed to flutter, ash falling down like snow slowing down in front of me until it halted in mid air. I waited for the final rerun, your life flashing before your eyes like everyone seemed to mention in every story where the main character has a brush with death.
Life for me was in essence my job, sinking ten hours a day on average, four hours on travel time, all so I could pay for the things I wanted, it seemed rather sad once it was boiled down to its fundamentals. The games, the drinking, my car, my computer, it all seemed rather pointless now, though I would probably buy more games given the chance. Taking a sideways glance at the wreckage of my car I tried to shake my head, but my neck refused to listen, my fingers gripping at a piece of metal trying to help my body turn if just a little.
“Do you want to live, no matter the cost?” A voice whispered in my ear, I tried to turn my head again in shock to see who it was, only to stare at the tire to my right, a blank unfocused look coming over my glazed eyes.
“What dying man would refuse?” I thought not able to mouth the words. “You must be the angel of death to bring my soul away.”
A laugh echoed behind me, it reminded me of those Santas at the mall. “An angel? Me? Never, those detestable beings are play things of a god with too much time on his hands. Though your stories have called me death. You’ve heard the tales of people staking their life on a game with death right?”
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“Does that mean you want to play a game for my life?”
“Yes, you get to live if you pass my game, now then, should we start? I am quite a busy man and you will die in a few moments, I can only play my game with someone who agrees” As I nod my head one last time, the darkness at the corner of my eyes swallowed everything, my consciousness fading, but the last thing that I saw was the ballcap I saw earlier. Now that I was closer I could make out a characters on the front of it, NY. It didn’t mean much to me other than New York, so I couldn’t help but think, “Fuck New York.”
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A man in white platemail armor sat in a beam of sunlight that broke though an opening along the roof of the throne room he was in. The glow of the air, mixed with his arrogant attitude made him seem like a mighty angel sitting upon its ivory throne. His blonde hair rippled down his shoulders, coming to light curls upon his back if standing one would think of him as a painting. He looked too much like a stereotypical prince in shinning armor to be real, if it wasn't for the two black horns that twisted out of his hair at least. A pair of black wings lay behind him, and they stretched out as he awoke on the throne.
“A hero is being brought to this world once more,” With a proud expression that seemed to always hold in it a hint of boredom, he scanned his throne room, Demons flew through the air flying past one another. The sky was bright under the sun, and he squinted up at it in thought, “This’ll be the tenth time this year, what is that old man planning?” He tapped at the throne as his mind raced at what the implications of this could mean, he had never seen so many souls cross through the boundary into his world before.
Demons noticing the rousing of their master descended, all of them kneeling before him with a mixture of respect and fear, anyone witnessing the scene would know that the man's rule was one through power. Demons scattered as he waved his hand at them, shooing them away to leave him to think about the matters, and if this threatened his position. Heroes came and went, always fighting and killing the 'Demon Lord' of the time, but heroes have always been few in number. With a large number of so called heroes, they might actually pose a minor threat to him if the problem isn't looked into. The man sighed deeply, and sat back in his throne staring at his subjects. "This will be bothersome."
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The sound of movement could be heard, clicking like wood against wood as words spilled into my consciousness the darkness of death still lingering in my eyes. “Body pieces found, stabilizing a body, collecting mana and twisting it into fibers to aid in movement. Body complete, soul attachment complete, activating soul.”
“Hello, please state your name for further introduction to your new situation.” A voice echoed from inside my head as I opened my eyes, groaning at the feeling of grogginess, and sickness that filled my stomach. Sitting up, the feeling of a late night drinking as my eyes adjusted to the piles of bones around me.
Wait, a pile of bones? Confirming my surroundings I looked about, there were indeed a sea of bones around me, on top of the sea was even more bones, though these ones resembled skeletons. They weren’t all human like, but they all shared something in common they all moved, wondering around aimlessly and slowly. A few of them roamed in packs holding rocks, sticks with rocks attached to them, or sharpened rocks, it seemed as though the only weaponry was rocks. Those few that stuck in packs seemed to be more intelligent, and they moved with purpose along the bones under their feet.
The voice repeated, “What is your name, please state your name.” I looked up to the skeletons passing and ignored the voice, everything was happening too fast for me. Putting things in order, I stated the obvious in my head, this is not my world, if I wasn’t convinced by the walking skeletons I was positive my Earth did not have three moons at night. Maybe the man I spoke to earlier was telling the truth, I’ve started to play his game, did that mean that this was the beginner's town?
“At least I’m still alive,” I said as my head felt an impact another skeleton bumping into it, it's boney knee making the sound similar to the wood on wood sound earlier. A hand quickly went to my head, but it stopped in front of my eyes. Before me was a bunch of bones held together by who knows what that resembled my hand. Flexing and moving it, it seemed to follow my commands confirming one thing without a doubt, “Well fuck my previous relief, I’m a Skeleton.”
“Skeleton accepted as name, Mister added to identify you from other skeletons. Welcome to the world Mr. Skeleton.” The voice seemed cheerful, taking on a feminine voice instead of the emotionless robotic voice earlier. It was then that I took notice of the voice, it didn’t take long to figure out that it was a disembodied voice.
Due to my situation a thousand questions formed in my head, “I'm a skeleton? Why am I a skeleton? Who are you?” Disembodied voices usually have the answer in most of the stories that I’ve read, and if it was like a video game she’d send me on a quest.
“Me? I am tutorial, a guide to this world. As to why you're a skeleton, this is the best body that fit your wishes for how you wanted to be reborn. The potential to grow, and change as you see fit, with control over yourself and your destiny. Are these not your innermost wishes?”
“Tutorial? Like a video game?” I couldn't help but tilt my head, at that tilt I noticed two timers at the side of my vision one of them showed a skeleton puking on the ground and the other the word menu. I ignored both for now, pressing the voice for answers once again, “But why the video game mechanics? Doesn't this seem strange?”
“It was elements from your world you would feel comfortable with, having hundred hours per week invested in video games it was the most continuous thing you did other than work. In work you didn’t seem engaged in it, so that was left out of the equation. A few of the others from your world have also adapted a similar setup.” The voice paused, as if to think, “Though of the others most of them didn't have a role playing game as their focus, your game of choice was New Origin Online correct? You'll find many systems from that implemented into your body.”
“And why am I here? I vaguely remember someone talk about a game for my life.” The memories from the crash seemed like a haze, especially the events leading up to it after leaving the parking lot.
“You are here to earn enough points to stop your death from happening.” Tutorial said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Pondering over the game mechanics, “Points? Like experience points or something else?”
“Something else entirely, it’s basically your value to this world whether through infamy or fame.”
I listened, taking it all in as I noticed a few of the skeletons had taken interest in me. It must be because I'm talking, I have yet to see any of the skeletons talk yet then again I have yet to see them do anything other than move from place to place. “What is my character status then?” A screen pulled up in front of me, the three skeletons watching me taking a step back as it appeared. “Level 0?”
“Yes, using a human of a weak condition as a base level 1, you are currently at level 0, the equivalent of a ten year old human child.” Masochism not high on my list of priorities, the cheerful voice of a woman telling you how much of a bug you are did not help out my mood. Tapping through some of the menu settings, I noticed the skeletons got closer, one of them seemed to have ran off but the last two sat down to watch me go through the menu, the soft blue glow on their faces.