Everything was a blur. Nothing made sense. Instead of the usual white ceiling of my bedroom I found myself looking up at dull grey rectangular tiles, with the one directly above an eye burning fluorescent square of light.
When I sat up, a throbbing pain in my head seared and burned, and it was all I could do to fall back down and use my arm as a shield against the light. I had obviously been playing too much FTR, because my status bar was burned into my vision as if I still had my Nova 9000s on, and menu options were popping up.
You are [Human].
You have gained a [+2] racial bonus to an attribute of your choice.
I tried to take my head set off but all I did was just mess my hair up further, as my head was bare.
You have selected [Vitality].
You have gained a [+2] to [Vitality].
Err, what?
You do not meet any of the requirements for [Adventurer] job classes.
You start with the job class [Commoner].
The world went dark as I squeezed my face but no matter how many times I shut my eyes the illuminated notification box was fixed in the air like a neon sign.
There were some footsteps coming from the hallway, my heart raced, and I swatted at the interface until it finally disappeared, then another spam notification popped-up that I hastily swiped away.
My eyes strained as a shadow from beneath the door neared—then continued past…
What, did you think that was a monster or something?
Huaaa… I sighed. Brain… you funny.
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There was a loo in the room and I struggled off the bed and over to it. I gasped at my reflection in the mirror.
Mark Thornwell
My name hung above my head in big bold letters. My hands passed through it as I swatted at it like a holographic image. Was there anything else weird going on? I examined. I was still mostly the same—same stupid-frizzy dark hair, pimply face, giant nose, and ears. Ugh, all looked painfully the same. Half of me wished something more had happened than just weird notifications and floating name tags, like turning into an RPG hero or something. Once a commoner, always a commoner, ay?
More footsteps came from the hallway.
a woman said before I heard the line end from outside the room. A lady entered the room. She looked like she was in her late twenties and was quite tall. A long white coat glided behind her. And I just gapped at the huge tag above her head, that faced me no matter which way she turned. ‘Anon.’
“Ahh, you’re awake,” she said, then redialled her phone. “Yes. Yes. He’s regained consciousness. Yes. Okay. Absolutely.” And then hung up.
Why anon? Is she hiding her status or something? I could feel my heartbeat rising to my ears. It was all too weird, too much to deal with. Like I was in a waking dream. Perhaps this is what sleepwalkers feel like? They’re not asleep, but they’re not awake, but their dreams still feel real to them, until they wake up. The somatic action for hiding the interface still worked, and a sighed in relief.
She looked me over and gave me a smile as about as genuine as a politicians promise, that’s to say, like shit on a golden spoon, flawless delivery but hard to consume. “Sorry about that. You probably feel a bit disoriented and confused. You fainted during the demonstration, and we brought you to the first aid room to rest. My name is Clare Watson. Can you tell me your name?”
I was confused. “Is that really your name?”
She hesitated, and her eyes narrowed for a split second, before giving the same shit feeding smile. A smile I was all too familiar with, one, the guilty give as they tower over their defenceless prey. ‘Glitter-Shits,’ I called them. They might sparkle to the world, but on the inside they were a horrid stench. “Why, yes, of course. I understand you might feel confused and disoriented right now. Try taking a few deep breaths.”
“Wait, what? Why do you need my name?” I asked, cradling my head, not that that helped relieve the pain.
“I have your name here,” she said, looking down at a clipboard. “This is standard procedure for anyone that’s suffered a head injury or fainted in your case.” She gestured then said, “Why don’t you pop back onto the bed.”
Fainted? Oh, right! Maybe, she is who she says she is. Fine. I know better than to struggle against a Glitter-Shit.
“Err, my name’s Mark. Mark Thornwell.” I said, reluctantly compling.
“Good.” She marked something on the clipboard. “Do you know what day and month of the year it is?”
“It’s November 5th.” My lips were cracked, and my eyes were really dry. “Could I, umm, have some water?”
She looked over her glasses at me. “Yes, yes, absolutely, just after we answer a few more questions. It’s really important for your safety that we do this now before anything else.”
“Umm. Okay.”
“Do you know where we are?” It seemed like she was more interested in filling out her clipboard than my wellbeing.
“We’re, umm, in Astor Corp.” This is a bit weird. Where is the teacher? The other students? And if I fainted, surely, they called my parents?
“Excellent… I can see you look concerned, but don’t worry. Mr Harding informed your parents, and they agreed to let us do a few tests before you return with class.”
“Umm, okay, what else do you need?” I asked while she spun on her chair and produced a glass of water. What the hell?! I’m freakin dying of thirst over here, and you were holding out on me the whole time.
“Can you tell me what you remember of today? The nurse, though now I wasn’t sure if she really was a nurse or not, she adjusted her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her eyes looking at me piercingly. “There is no need to worry, you are not in trouble, we just need to ascertain your current condition, so, please do not leave any details out…”