The reason it felt like I was on fast forward was because I was on fast forward and fast forward on a Hoverhog that was already supposed to be going over 75 mph over the highway of life was too fast for my stomach. I hit the first offramp I could feasibly negotiate and threw up. Thankfully, the reels for my show were still going like gangbusters with recap rolls for viewers that were just now tuning in. The cameras were not rolling through my recap of donuts, diet coke, and too many candy bars. I was just glad I hadn’t taken a Mentos into the mix. I cleaned up a little with some wet wipes that Biker-bozo had in this nifty little trunk of the sidecar.

I drove away from my mishap and into a shopping center parking lot at a mall that reckoned back to the days before everybody socialized and bought all their stuff online. It was quaint and old-fashioned, just like the gazebo-town I’d left behind. As of yet, I hadn’t seen any cops anywhere, but since that was to my advantage, I didn’t mind at all. This mall, however, had security and mallrats vibes. I could just feel the AI pushing me at yet another trite old trope. And I was eyeing it like candy as the viewers began to trickle into my stream out of the recaps that had run down.

I’d wanted to be an author and I had had the creative scores to make it, but my writing had to pass one test to get an author permit. My writing had to go head-to-head against an AI’s work and sound the most original. I’d choked. The AI couldn’t choke. I’d failed. With no author permit, I could still publish but I wouldn’t get a government stipend as a validated artist. And here I was, with Stella, planning a mall robbery because I wasn’t great at creativity under pressure.

I pocketed my key to Stella, gave her a friendly pat, and walked toward the mall, trying to look like just another Sunday shopper. I had stuffed the contents of my backpack and the leather jacket into the trunk on the sidecar and locked it too. That left me strolling up to the mall with an empty backpack, jeans jacket, dopey smile, and only what mud remained from what the windy drive here had left. I still had a knife in my pocket but only because I was never going to not have a knife in my pocket again after the dungeon episode. Luckily for me, the mall was old-fashioned enough not to have weapon scanners at the door. Instead, it just had stern-looking security guards that looked like they’d flunked out of police academy training due to a love of donuts.

There had been a time when AIs were taught to defy stereotypes that could be harmful, like this security guard I was passing who looked like he’d come straight out of an 80’s movie complete with powdered donut on his tie. Then there was a time when entertainment AIs could use waivers to use stereotypes for satirical works. Then they’d all just labelled themselves as satirical, whether they were or not, even though AIs didn’t do satire well. And the herd went to the polls and voted and now there weren’t any more tyrannical stifling laws against creative satire. That whole cycle ended up upending the entire political correctness era where everyone was polite to one another and replaced it with the social correctness era that had gotten me put in here.

Security-slob gave me the stink-eye as I passed, but he quickly transferred said stink-eye to a bunch of teenagers that were bumming around outside the mall’s small arcade. I’d stepped into the food court where, if I’d had any money, I could purchase anything from a bowl of rice and questionable meat to a taco of questionable meat to a corndog on a stick of even more questionable meat. Since I didn’t have any money still (and no, I didn’t take the money from Gomer’s cash register in case the bell on the register got his attention), I skirted around tables to the heart of the mall and took a minute to scan the very helpful map.

I got some ideas in my head as I looked at what amounted to the schematics of the mall, including the security offices and emergency exits, one of which was right near where I’d parked Stella. Did I need a con artist, a hitter, a mastermind, and the rest if I had the schematics and was only really interested in some shop-lifting that might or might not escalate into grand larceny, whatever that was. I’d heard it once on some old crime show. They’d pretended to simplify all the legal jargon of the justice system, but it only ended up confusing everyone. We just looked it up on our phones and asked a confidential AI if what we wanted to do was legal. In my situation, though, what was I supposed to have done? Can you imagine that conversation?

“Gee, my confidential AI,” I would say to my phone, “should I go to sleep in my own bed tonight or have I possibly done something illegal lately that justifies them snatching me out of bed, railroading me through Mickey Mouse Courthouse, and straight into Streaming Hell?”

“Well,” my confidential AI would ask me, “what have you done lately?”

“Nothing,” I would tell my confidential AI.

“Ah ha!” My very helpful confidential AI would have declared. “You must go out to the nearest dance club and waste your rent money to make some friends that will attest that you are not a waste of societal space!”

Yeah. I thought that through on my way to the nearest department store. I passed the shoe store. Even if I had the money, I wouldn’t have gone there. I had good shoes. There was an honest-to-God bookstore! I almost went in, my finger twitching to experience even the virtual experience of touching books made of paper. I would be back for you, I promised the bookstore. I made similar promises to the candy store, an electronics store, and a Game Stop, all of which happened to be on the correct side of the mall for my purposes. My mind was racking up a pretty long list of stuff that was never going to fit in my backpack, or Stella for that matter. I guess I was before the time that compactable cars were sold at the mall.

I was almost there when my step hitched. I’d been snagged. It was inevitable. Unbelievable that there would be a store like this in a mall, but my mind understood that it was inevitable. Puppies. Real puppies pressed their slobbery faces up against the pane of the display window. I ignored them. On the other side of the door was a similar display where half a dozen little balls of fur hid as avidly as the dogs did not.

I made my way into the tiny pet store with only one thought in my head (okay two, but I’m not going to talk about how my parents never let me have a pet even after I’d developed an obsession with becoming a Beastmaster just like in the movies).

“He said alive,” I whispered, just in case it would count. That was the thought.

Birds squawked on the right of me. Hamster wheels whirred to the left of me. And within me a plan was percolating. They had snakes and yes, even pet tarantulas. I had plans for them too. My eyes glittered at the fact that I couldn’t see any cameras anywhere. I would steal two ferrets, a kitty cat, and a hawk or maybe a parrot. Then I thought of the squawking that hurt my ears and nixed the bird. I had dreams of the ferrets stealing the keys of my next jail cell, and my kitten learning to dance on the streets as we busked for money. I stuffed down those dreams and flicked open a cage, and then another.

“Ma’am,” I called out to the girl behind the counter who was younger than I was. “I think one of your birds is loose!”

“What!?” The girl’s eyes got round and panicked as she fumbled her phone. She’d been using it to take puppy-pics. Now the puppies were providing screen-licking pics for her.

I didn’t ask why a world that wasn’t advanced enough to have cameras was still prolific with cell phones that could capture video. I liked it. Three packs of pet treats found their way into my backpack as the girl ran, arms outstretched, at a justifiably terrified parakeet that made a beeline for the slightly too tall ceiling. I delivered the tarantula into the snake cage where a largish python happily cocked its head. I ignored the hiss that raised the hackles on my neck (because it hadn’t come from the snake) and allowed myself the solace that snakes ate tarantulas (sorry to all you arachnid lovers out there, but this was absolutely the World AI’s fault).

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

“Here, birdie, birdie, birdie,” the girl called out and I walked up behind her.

“Your manager left you here by yourself?” I asked, practicing my jedi mind tricks.

“She’s only out to lunch,” the girl got more panicked, and my beast purred as her eyes went from relief that her manager would return and then bloomed into horror of what her manager was going to say if the birds got past the front door. “Oh, please help me catch them before they get away!”

“Absolutely,” I lied, nodding my head as I put a hand on her shoulder, steering her exactly where I wanted her to go. “But is there something wrong with that snake?” The only thing wrong with the snake was that it had squirming tarantula legs sticking out of its mouth.

“Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Snaky-poo,” the girl dashed toward the terrariums. “We don’t eat our neighbors.”

I was starting to get the hang of this because I was pretty sure that was going to be click-bait. I wouldn’t get credit, but I got some cat food, enough for a few days anyway until I could get the cash to buy it.

“You don’t happen to carry ferrets do you?” I asked, as if pandemonium wasn’t breaking out as the girl raised the lid of the snake cage only to be squeamishly waving her hands around ineffectually.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, and I was pretty sure she was still hung up on the digestion problems of the snake as it twitched abnormally. “She said I wouldn’t have to touch the snakes.”

“She can’t blame you for this, can she?” I shrugged, trying to sound almost comforting. I was more interested in what that tarantula was doing to the inside of that poor snake.

“Oh, no, no, no,” the poor girl wailed as I managed to nab a few packages of jingling toy cat balls.

“You must get paid a lot to work with animals like this,” I posited, as one of the parakeets dive-bombed her like the bats had done to me. I ducked. She didn’t.

“No, I don’t!” the girl shrieked in key with the parakeets who were happily winging their way out into the main mall. The girl had lost her wailing concern by crossing her petite arms over her perfect chest and leaning back precariously against the snake tank, her hair falling into it with an invitation I wouldn’t have made. Luckily for her, according to her nametag her name was Stacey, the snake was busy. I could fix that.

“Don’t tell me that it’s minimum wage,” I said, grabbing her shoulders like I couldn’t believe what she wasn’t saying.

“It is!” She bobbed her head and let me turn her back toward the door, ostensibly to make it so that she wouldn’t have to watch another parakeet wing its way after the first one.

“You’re kidding,” I said as an excuse to push her pack against the mouse cage instead. My hands flew up beside my own head like I was flabbergasted. Hey! I never claimed to have taken any acting lessons, but this AI of a kid bought it, so I was okay.

“I’m not,” she shook her head at me, giving a slight sniffle as she looked up at the ceiling to hold back the tears.

Quest: Convince the Kid to Quit?

I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’ve realized I’d better start giving you xp for it or we’ll be stuck in click-bait hell forever!

Rewards: 100 xp

Accept Y/N.

“You poor thing,” I consoled her, putting my arm around her shoulder just long enough to brush the top of the mouse cage open and hit Y on that quest. That was something I could do. “You poor, poor thing,” I went on, brushing her pretty blond hair right into the cage of more than a dozen feeder mice.

She shook her head in mute suffering, an action that attracted every single mouse in that cage.

“I should go,” I shook my head as if I was doing her a favor. “I don’t need a ferret today.”

“It’s not like we have any anyway,” she sniffled, then seemed to change her mind on a dime. “My manager says they’re against the law, but she has two of them in the back room for special customers.” She used air quotes around the “special customers” part of that.

Quest: Steal the Ferrets!

There. That should work.

Rewards: 100 xp and $100 bonus if you manage to find the manager’s secret Ferret stash cash box.

Accept Y/N

“You’re kidding,” I almost stalled out on that revelation, hitting Y again, trying to hide my smile.

“Nope,” Stacey stuck her nose in the air, thus dipping her hair down further into the mouse cage. “She breeds them herself, but the owners don’t know.”

“Sounds like this manager of yours is the one who has some explaining to do,” I assured her, with as straight of a face as I could make. The higher Stacey stuck her little button nose in the air, the closer her hair got to a bunch of very curious mice.

“I’d say so,” Stacey gave an exaggerated head nod, and that was what it took for two of the little buggers to take hold. Stacey was so involved in her plotting that she just brushed her hair over her shoulder, as if maybe she got it caught in her apron once in a while and this was an almost unconscious dislodging method. It was actually the World AI shamelessly building tension at this poor actor AI’s expense, but who was I to argue with the World AI? “I’m going to tell them all about her little scheme in the back right after I tell them that’s why I’m quitting!” Especially when it gave me quest completions like this…

Exp +100 (Convince the Kid to Quit? Quest Complete!)

I nodded, because what else was there to say as two more mice grabbed on and swung like they were playing with Cinderella’s gown in a Disney film. They were white. Yeah. I just stood there staring and waiting.

“I’m going to call the owners right now,” Stacey suddenly declared, and I was making a bid to get jedi mind tricks as a skill after this. I blame this on my mother who was amazing at this game. She played it on my dad all the time and I thought it was funny until I’d realized she was doing it to me too. Problem was that I stopped succumbing to it and ruined my life. Who knew? She was right all along.

She looked down for the phone that was probably always in her front pocket, only it wasn’t there. I knew it was in the puppy pen at the front window, and maybe I should have said something witty, but I was entranced with the mice she didn’t notice yet. I’d paused my pilfering for this and was now smack dab in the middle of the stage, but I was pretty sure I was missing a line. I really needed to get into my leveling mechanic and plop those stat points I’d earned into something helpful.

“Where’s my phone?” she grumbled, prettily.

“Up near the puppies?” I offered, and she turned to go to the front of the store with me trailing after her like the dutiful child that I was not.

She reached down to get her phone as I snagged a little black bundle of fur, petting it so that it didn’t scratch me. The kitten burrowed into my chest as the puppies started barking like mad.

“What’s wrong, my little angels?” Stacey cooed at them, her slobber-covered phone gripped tightly in her hand. Then she looked up at me and didn’t say a thing about the kitten that worked its way painfully up my shoulder and into my hair. “See, that’s why I don’t like cats, not even kittens,” and her profession of such animosity toward my little joy full of claws and purrs made me not regret a bit of my actions. “I’ll take doggies any day, but why are they so upset? Maybe it’s the birds that got them worked up.”

“I don’t think so,” I gave her a wide-eyed look, but not due to the birds which were long gone to the food court. “Do dogs like mice?” I pointed at her shoulder, and she turned to look.

The next bit happened in slow-mo. Stacey’s eyes met the beady little red eyes of a cute little white mouse. Stacey’s pert little mouth slowly opened wider than it would take for a mouse to take the funhouse ride inside, something that almost happened as Stacey drew in breath to scream. By the time the glass-shattering scream erupted, I was in the back room. Stacey might have been in slow mo, but I wasn’t.

I tucked the two baby ferrets into my bag with an open pack of treats to keep them occupied and only had to shove open one drawer to find the illegal-pet-ring-proceeds. I’ll give Stacey this, she could give the store alarms a run for their money. I moved my lower jaw in an effort to clear the blood that was surely running from my ears, and then slipped eagerly through the back door of the pet shop.

“You said alive,” I called out to the World AI, but I’m sure only the AI could have heard it over the scream from next door, which was only lightly muffled by the hallway lined in brick. It’s too bad too because I was pretty sure that would have made for a good click-bait ad.

Exp +100 (Quest: Steal the Ferrets! Quest Complete!)