Many people (especially the police) have speculated as to how Carlos Dump, born poor and with negligent parents, could have became so filthy rich. It certainly was not because he invented or produced anything of value. Carlos made nothing that was unique. Carlos hardly worked. Carlos was an investor.

The story of Carlos' rise has been the subject of numerous books, many of which have been self-published. His autobiography The World is My Dump emphasized his unyielding perseverance in the face of tragedy. The episode of how, as a child, he blackmailed his lazy parents into working and sued the mayor for neglecting his part of the city, touched the hearts of many aspiring lawyers. His best-selling financial help book The Dump is on You detailed how he turned small family businesses into money making juggernauts with revolutionary management techniques that you too can apply.

His critics (which is nearly everyone) have pointed out that these stories are indications of his criminal psychoses and his complete lack of conscience. Activists have argued that his “technique” of forcing employees to recite “Profit, profit über alles, über alles in der welt” a hundred times every workday have driven dozens to suicide (as well as offend a couple people).

When asked to comment on these criticisms by a stalking journalist, Carlos said with a puzzled look,

“...but...I'm rich.”

After a moment of blankly staring at each other, it was said that the journalist quitted his job that day and went to live in Costa Rica.

However, in Carlos' mind, the genuine reason for his success was not his diabolical canniness, but rather his great eye for people. He often uses the example of his secretary, a young high school dropout with nowhere to turn to when he “discovered” her. Instantly, he had recognized her high conscientiousness and inner character, and decided to provide for her education. He often gets tears in his eyes when he thinks of what might have happened to her if he had not been there.

Of course, gratitude is not a trait of youth. After giving her a job and she started to gain independence, she immediately indulged in the latest “fashion trends”, something Carlos explicitly warned her against. She started to lose weight and, much to Carlos' regret, destroyed her beautiful plump figure.

Carlos has a deep disgust with the current standards of women's beauty. A real woman should be chubby and big, none of this anorexic business. When he tried to discuss this with the girl, he gave her a look of disgust as if she was witnessing a monkey eating his own feces. Now, he gets versions of that look every time he has to see her for work. Luckily, Carlos doesn't work.

Still, even with all his years of experience and his tremendous eye for people, Carlos could not tell, in Hindu Gods true' name, what that thing currently sitting in front of him is.

***************

When Carlos opened his eyes after being immersed in the capsule, he felt surprisingly calm. He discovered himself sitting in an armless chair in front of a bare desk. The setup resembled a police interrogation room where you have a single desk and two chairs on opposing sides. But here, there were no walls and instead, one could see infinite rows and columns of identical setups. Carlos' "room" was just one of countless. All of which were evenly spaced apart and lighted by a beam of light high above the table in an otherwise pitch-black environment.

Situated in each "room" was a human and what can only be described as a monster directly facing each other. Dwarfs, fairies, goblins, and numerous other creatures that Carlos could not give a name to populated this mysterious place with their human counterpart. Most of the monsters visible to Carlos held a clipboard and were animatedly speaking to their weirdly diluted human partner. Although, Carlos too felt strangely calm for being in such a bizarre position.

“Ahem... Can we start?”

The monster sitting across from Carlos was not pretty. From her voice and facial features he assumed it to be a female. Although, rather than resembling any conventional monster, she was a giant blue blob or perhaps a slug with a partially human face on top. Her body appeared to be made out of a dark blue congealed slim that jiggled as she moved. She wore a beige t-shirt that is shockingly plain. No pants as she did not have legs. Beneath her shirt was simply an extension of her blob body that ended in pudding-like flatness. In short, she was a giant blue slug with the face of a heavily obese woman. A disgusting but fascinating sight.

The monster's unhappy fat face browsed over her clipboard which she held in her fat blue hands. Carlos found these movements extremely interesting.

“Okay, first of all, welcome to Samsara. This is the reincarnation department and I am your guardian angel. My name is Fatand Blue.”

Despite Fatand's unenthusiastic voice, Carlos did not feel the slightest disturbance in his composure. He divined that there is probably some sort of mental anesthetic at work here. Indeed, he suspects that, without it, many first-time players would panic being in such close proximity with such frightening monsters. Nonetheless, Carlos could not help but be fascinated by Fatand's disgustingly obese figure.

Fatand continued to speak monotonously, “Well, as you are probably aware, in Samsara when you die your character is completely destroyed. Then you are transported back here, we have a little chat, you then go back into the world, play around until you die, and the cycle repeats again. Fun, am I right?”

Carlos nodded along as Fatand spoke. Apparently, in most role-playing games you respawn with little losses as your former character when you die. Not that Carlos cared much since he doesn't play virtual games. Nonetheless, this fact always interested Carlos. He wondered how someone could lose if even death is of no consequence. In Carlos' mind, games should have clear winners and losers, just like in life.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Carlos was not interested in the minutiae of Samsara. He was interested in Fatand's hideously fat body, which Carlos eyeballed ever so closely to the point of making even the ugly blue monster visibly uncomfortable. Despite not paying any attention, Carlos was able to get the gist of some of the things Fatand said.

According to the hideous creature, guardian angels are the players' special helpers. They are equipped with knowledge of the real world, which they consider to just be “another” world. Each guardian angel is unique as their appearance are a creation of the personal unconscious of the specific player. Hence, they are not controlled by any sentient person but are rather considered to be NPCs integral to Samsara.

However, a player's only interaction with them is when they start the game or when they die and have to be reincarnated. In the latter case, they supposedly comfort the player, analyze what they did wrong, and help prepare them for their next life in Samsara.

“If you don't have any questions, then I guess—”

“I want to be a dwarf,” said Carlos with conviction.

“................”

“A fat, ugly dwarf.”

“.....Ehh, well, if you were listening, I already said you can't customize your character appearance, at least not until you earn enough karma. But since this is your first life, your character appearance will be selected from your personal unconscious. I can push for big generalities like gender, but don't get your hopes up. Don't worry though, Samsara almost always picks from your unconscious an appearance that you'll like. That was one of the last rules the creators had added before they left.”

“I see...”

Outwardly, Carlos was the picture of equanimity but inside, a dark turmoil quietly began to boil. As it turns out, one of Carlos' best kept secret is his “sympathy” for fatness. His psychoanalyst once said that he has a Samoan character, suggesting he has an unconscious tendency to associate stability and power with fatness, hence his attraction to fat people. The psychoanalyst reasons it might have to do with his poor childhood environment, where he was constantly malnourished.

A load of bull in Carlos' mind. The only reason he went to see a psychoanalyst was because that's what rich people do, but it turned out to be a horrible experience. So what if he kept a notebook with the estimated weight of every women he ever met. He's not a creepy pervert. Women like discussing their weight... Don't they?

Still, Carlos admits he would like to try being fat for once. He himself had a short but lean figure in real life. Now however, it seems his fantasies of being a rich fat dwarf is impossible! Curses! Of course, objectively speaking. Carlos only entered Samsara to escape persecution in real life. A rational person might say that not getting to be a dwarf would be the least of Carlos' concerns.

In reality, such a rational person would long have been fired by Carlos. And if he was not an employee to fire, then Carlos would hire him, wait until he reports back to his parents, then fire him, because Carlos is a man of heart! He has no time for rationality or logic. The thing he wants now is to be a fat rich dwarf in a virtual world and he can't so he's ang... Carlos remembers something.

“Did you say I could be a dwarf if I gained karma?”

Fatand the fat slug monster eyed Carlos suspiciously. “Yes... in theory, it's possible. In Samsara, every player, or wanderer as we call you here, is forced to be born in a human form generated from their personal unconscious. The creators wanted every wanderer to be equal in that sense. However, your kind disliked that and wanted to have conscious choice. So the creators reluctantly introduced the system of karma. Karma is a quantification of your achievements upon death. You can then use karma to decide the form of your next life. Nothing other than form can be chosen.”

Carlos payed close attention. Indeed, he'll pay anything to be a rich fat dwarf.

“In your case, if you want to be born in a form so different that even your race has changed, you will need an enormous amount of karma. This means you need to achieve great things in life.”

Carlos pondered about what Fatand just said. Great things in life. As ignorant as Carlos is, even he is aware of the attraction of virtual gaming among the masses. What is denied to people in real life, they may have to their heart's desire in a virtual one.

Carlos grinned. How ironic that he achieved in real life; power, fame, fortune, everything deemed highest by the city, the so-called great things in life. And now he must do it again in a virtual one.

“And how do I achieve these great things in life?” Carlos asked, still grinning at the irony.

Fatand leaned closer. Her eyes narrowed.

“You don't. You simply survive.”

Before Carlos could comprehend what those words meant, a hole opened up beneath Carlos, swallowing him whole.