Lowest rung on the ladder…
Sharp was always taught that when push comes to shove, a man must draw a line in the sand and stand his ground. He was taught many things by his grandfather. "Being late is a form of disrespect," "Everything has a place; everything in its place," and his grandfather's favorite, "When in doubt, throw it out." Sharp didn't remember all the adages he was taught, but he remembered one snowy day in high school when he asked his grandfather, "Why does it always have to be a line? Can't it be something else? Lines are boring."
His grandfather stared at Sharp dumbfounded for some time. A cold wind from the Upper Benches blew hard against the kitchen window as his grandfather scrunched his face and pulled at his stubble with his right hand, a habit from his long bearded days. Sharp assumed his grandfather was pondering his question, but instead his grandfather sadly declared that Sharp had completely missed the point and would never amount to anything. Until recently, his grandfather had been wrong.
Why should I have dinner with them? So I can sit there as they look at me with pity? Maybe lecture me some more? Better yet, if I'm lucky Novell will start giving me dating advice again and encourage me to ask somebody at work out, like that won't get me fired or sued. What a gargantuous waste of time.
With such deep, happy thoughts, Sharp reminded himself that love was a lie, dating was for dupes, date nights lacked gain of function, and more. By the time he arrived at the customer support video call division for his next assignment, he was back to his usual, cheerful self.
Two hours later, Sharp stretched his back, arms out wide, then tilted his neck side to side. He was finished submitting his report. He had discovered nobody could access the file server due to it being on fire. A small electrical blaze had flared up then burned out, taking the file server down in the process. Since it had been on a different floor, nobody had noticed. The automated firebots had spotted the fire, put it out, then failed to alert anybody about it. The entire file server would need to be replaced and then restored from backup. At least the network was functional. Bloop was supposed to be a big player in the industry, but it still functioned like a startup sometimes.
He locked the server room door, then stood in the hallway and slumped his shoulders. He liked his jobs best when they kept him busy, but this job felt pointless. On Monday, he could be back here fixing the very same network all over again.
I could probably move all of my next paycheck into Koin Korrypt, lurk in my old Strife forum, watch for the signal when they decide to pump the crappy coin of the week, then pump and dump with them. I’d earn way more doing that than monkeying around here. Why am I here again? Right. A steady paycheck.
An icon flashed on his head up display letting him know his home system had finished running a diagnostic.
I can't look at that when I'm on the clock.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Since that fiasco at accounting, Sharp wouldn't be surprised to learn that Wudgepuck was monitoring all his communications. In fact, Sharp expected it. Yet Wudgepuck didn't notice that Sharp never used his company tablet to file reports and communicate. Sharp would open it up and pretend to use it when around people, but the screen was being routed to his virtua display—his best kept secret. Not even his friends knew he had his own information network separate from Bloop's campus wide coverage hosted in his eyes.
Many business had chased augmented and virtual reality contacts over the years, but power consumption, heat, and data transfer were dealbreakers for the technology. Thanks to his work on his Zero Carbs mining rig, Sharp leveraged those developments to create soft contacts that needed no battery packs or a tethered wearable computer. Instead, he used a portable quantum entanglement generator that utilized subatomic pairing to transfer energy and information in short encrypted bursts.
Darity was right. His priorities were on this new project that she suspected existed, but didn't know about yet. Launching a new business with his rep in the gutter would either require him to seek VC funding overseas, or raise the multimillions that he would need on his own.
That's where Crypt Defender comes in. Using current AR Deck tech with crypto currencies and unique monster trading will bring in millions before anybody knows that I'm involved. Probably.
Sharp looked down the empty hallway with its gray rug and unmarked doors and thought for a moment that he was trapped in an endless corridor of doom. It was a dark thought, so he pushed it from his mind.
I can thank Darity and Novell this weekend if I want, then put in my two-week notice on Monday. Darity is right. My head’s just not into this. I need another solution.
Sharp pulled out his phone and fired off a short text to Novell.
Jackson, you owe me big for today. On time (technically), worked miracles, and I didn't kill anybody. I'm feeling like steak.
He felt good about meeting his friends for the first time since his life crashed. Knowing he could walk away was important. If he mulled things over the weekend and decided otherwise, he could always put in his two weeks notice after his crypto plans panned out.
A notification in his virtua display caught his attention. There was something new: a printer was missing from the network in the design department.
When did she slip that in? Darity, you’re killing me here. I’ve got better things to do on a Friday night.
He guessed the printer wasn’t on fire somewhere, but was probably just turned off. On his way down the stairs to turn it back on, his radio squawked to life.
“Hikoboshi. You finished up that job at the customer support center yet?” His supervisor’s voice echoed in the empty stairway.
“Affirmative. I’m heading over to the design department job now.”
“Hold up! We’ve got a situation over at the WMD lab, in the B3 basement. You’ve got clearance for that, right?”
“Yeah, but WMDs? What are they working on over there? Do I need to gear up?”
“No no no. Not WMDs.” Sharp could hear a chuckle before the man continued. “They’re researching how to deliver matter through a wormhole. You know, delivering packages instantly to customers straight from a warehouse? It’ll be game changing for big box retail.”
His supervisor kept talking, but Sharp didn’t quite hear what was said. Something about being on call and not wanting to come in, Sharp was already there, project delays, network conflicts, bedlam and pandemonium had a baby, etc., but Sharp only had three words on his mind: Wormhole. Matter. Delivery. Finally, a job worth staying late for.