Drudge
Level 1
Health: 1
Intelligence: 1
All stats leached by Corporate Disease inflicted by the Faceless.
And they're heading towards zero.
I wipe away condensation, then rest my head on the bus window. The cool on my skin takes away the heat from the bodies crammed into the vehicle. We crawl along the city streets, the start/stop movement lulling me away from my life as the bus takes me away from another mind-numbing work day.
Financial woes and lack of marketable skill recently pushed me into a second shift job: an office maintenance technician in the highest, most central skyscraper in the city. Impressive, huh?
No. I clean.
Bathrooms; the endless carpet stretching along corridors lined by metal doors; the Faceless's offices. I dust the plants as fake as the smiles from the people who work here.
Fifty floors of corporate organisations I've never heard of, including industries I can't figure out either: Hedge Funds sounds like gardening loans to me.
Every level in the building, every rented floor, looks the same inside and out. Branding adorning the walls sets the companies apart, but to me they're all the Faceless. Clones dressed in suits.
Losing hours to my game world keeps me sane in the less appealing real world. Gold flows readily into my skilful character's pockets, and the day ends with a sense of progression and accomplishment. This level 50 Champion in mythic gear can smack the hell out of any mob who so much as looks at me the wrong way. Taking daily frustrations out in a fantasy world beats criminal charges for ramming my mop up the nether regions of the suited Faceless, who push past me, the untouchable Drudge in their way.
Working later shifts, I pass the time studying theory crafting sites, as I juggle my phone in one hand and vacuum cleaner in the other. I grind through life for meagre rewards, where levelling up won't happen anytime soon.
The fact life isn't a demo version hit me recently, when my longterm partner hightailed it from my life with some chick he met online. He took the essentials with him - our TV, fridge, sofa. If I hadn't been in the bed with my laptop I bet he would've taken them too.
Everything ninja'd by the asshole and his pug-faced girlfriend and I'm back in life's starting area.
Life sucks.
The bus lurches to a halt, and the population swells, new passengers adding extra to the mingling body odour and perfumes. I switch off my surroundings and turn on my phone. Scrolling through the game app with my thumb, I click onto the Trading House to check my commodity sales. Ironic that I corner the game economy's ore market, when in reality I clean a mining company's urinals for pittance.
My phone dings and I swap my business machinations for my messages.
Because if I had, he'd arrange a different night to attempt liberating me from the shitty, one room apartment I now reside in.
I grit my teeth. Aidan waited and obligation takes over, even if he did just call me woman.
I stare at the screen and, after a few seconds with no response, switch the phone back to my Trading app. The bus halts again, and the woman next to me stands. She's replaced by a guy in a suit who squeezes onto over half the narrow seat. I squish myself further against the bus's side in an attempt to prevent his leg touching mine, and focus on my market domination.
"You play the Game?" asks a voice in a cultured British accent.
Nobody speaks on the bus. Ever. Occasionally someone hits on my skinny, diminutive self, but with hands 'accidentally' touching my ass, and not words.
I shuffle said ass further away as I check him out. Middle aged. Greying hair. Sees himself as a silver fox and hits on girls half his age? I eye his gut spilling over the belt and straining against his white shirt buttons. The intense look in his moss green eyes creeps me out as he seizes me up.
"Yeah." I focus back on the listings. Somebody's bloody undercutting me.
"Interesting. What class do you play?"
I blink back up at him. "Champion."
"I think the game needs something different. The latest expansion disappointed a lot of fans." He smiles, eyes crinkling further at the corners
Call me fickle, but had this been a hot guy around my age chances are I'd join in with this conversation with more enthusiasm.
"People will always cry about the good old days." I can't hide my contempt for the whiners. "Because obviously they loved waiting for bugs to be fixed, and the insane login times. Gameplay was more challenging though."
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"You think the Game's too easy?"
"I played for years and everything changes in each expansion. The game needs to otherwise challenge and achievements won't exist anymore. I agree with people who say this expansion's end game progression sucks though."
He straightens. "Why's that? What do you think could be improved?"
"You work for the game or something?"
The bus lurches to a stop and the man grabs the nearby metal pole, hauling himself from the seat. "My stop. Nice to meet you, Eleanor Walker."
Creeper Dude just levelled up. How the hell does he know my name?
The man pushes through the bodies jammed into the aisle, unapologetic as he knocks into them. The bus jerks as the journey continues, another man taking the weird man's place.
I wipe away more condensation and peer out. Creeper Dude stands on the sidewalk amongst paper whipping around his feet. People veer around him as he remains still, a phone to his ear. I watch him as the bus attempts to pull into the flow of passing traffic.
As he stares straight back at me and smiles.
#
"Don't you think it's time you moved on and made some real life progression?" Aidan pushes his blond hair from where it falls into his eyes, the obvious intention to make the hard stare in his blue eyes clearer.
I stuff chocolate cake into my mouth and wait for him to finish his lecture. I've known Aidan since high school; we became friends through our love of gaming. Before then, I never would've spoken to the skinny guy from the geek clique. Sure, us nerds and geeks existed outside the school's social epicentre, but we're separate species. Some were hybrids, like Aidan, but the two tribes were always distinct.
"Move on? Like, leave the city?" I ask and crumbs fall to the plate.
Aidan pulls a disparaging face and holds up his hand, fingers outstretched. "Kitchen hand. Waitress. Office cleaner... See a pattern?"
"What pattern?"
"Mundane jobs. Crap pay. You'll end up stuck in them forever. Why don't you find something you want to do? Move on."
"I graduated from kitchen hand to waitress, thank you." I reply and poke at my cake. "Now I've moved on and work in a corporate office."
"Cleaning them. El, there must be something better."
"Whatever," I mutter inwardly cringing at how childish I sound. "Once I decide what I want to do career-wise, I'll do it. Can we end the monthly lecture now?"
"Okay. I'll diarise the next one." Aidan pulls out his phone and I scowl. "So you screwed up your grades and missed college. It's not the end of life. You can try again."
"Uh. I thought the lecture was over."
Three years out of school, drifting away to the city from the small town and disappointed parents. Yes, I'm smart and had great GPA until senior year. Then I flunked a test. Then another. My grades dropped, and along with them my confidence. The nagging started you're a smart girl, don't let yourself down, don't ruin your life. I'd end each day paralysed by anxiety that I'd screw up.
Then I screwed up.
Cue more anxiety.
I dropped study, spending hours in my room immersed in the online game where I could control my life. Achievements and rewards in game were simpler, direction clearer. What did it matter that I couldn't win in reality? I dropped my studies and the game took over my life and mind. If I'm dramatic, I'd say the game saved my life when I couldn't cope; pulled me back from a black hole sucking me in.
But I'm not dramatic and never told anybody.
I didn't admit gaming is the reason I failed, and that I didn't care.
My ties to the online world strengthened, our guild known for excellence, my name high on the leaderboards. Every time I attempt to sever those ties, something pulls me back. I panic without my daily connection with this other me. Sometimes literally.
If I let go, the black hole could gape open and this time I may not escape.
A plastic stirrer bounces off my cheek. "Pay attention, El."
"What's the dramatic thing you need to tell me?"
Aidan takes a furtive look around and them pushes his phone across the table. "I keep getting these weird messages. They arrive at night and I hear voices but can't figure out what they're saying. The next day my screen is covered in this."
My pulse chugs higher because I know what he's about to show me. A message from yesterday looks back at me.
And another, older.
"Shit." I half-breathe the word, elongating the vowel. My fingers tremble as I pull my phone from my pocket and open my messages. "I thought it was you guys playing one of your dumb tricks. I received some too."
"Why is mine failed?" I ask.
"All of them?"
"Sometimes this."
"How many?" asks Aidan.
"About half a dozen over the last week. I sent a reply to the number they arrived from."
I swipe back to my message list and hold my screen to show Aidan.
Aidan snorts. "I showed Pete & Mike but they shrugged it off. I don't think they're lying. If they want to prank, they'll do it ingame."
"Huh." I sink back and swap cake for coffee. "Looks like I'm the failure again."
"Or the messages failed, not you."
Aidan's intense sometimes, such as today and his 'sort your life out, El' lecture, but I don't often see him bolt upright in his seat and edgy.
He taps the table and lowers his voice. "Do you hear anything at night?"
"Yeah. Voices, when I'm falling asleep and too borderline unconscious to remember or make sense of what they say." I drain the cup. "I've always had crazy dreams though, so didn't think anything of it."
If anything, the texts annoy me. I've had my fair share of dick pics and harassment as a successful female gamer, but my skin's as thick as a demon's hide these days. The issue - I don't tolerate sleep interruption. When I'm yanked out of sleep for a few seconds, it's bloody hard to find my way back into crazy dreams of R-rated situations with Jensen Ackles.
Hence the 'leave me the hell alone' text.
But Aidan has texts too, and that opens a new dimension to the situation.
"I'm sure this is all a joke," I say with a smile. "Maybe we should send some to Pete and Mike."
"Hmm. We should. Assholes." He breaks into a grin but his eyes don't match the light humour.
I click the phone off and return to my cake.
I don't mention the creepy guy on the bus.
#
The laptop screen glows on my nearby desk as I shuffle down in bed, exhausted after the last week's double shifts. At least my bank balance left the critical list - or has until I head to the mall again tomorrow. I've saved for an upgrade, sick of the random crashing mid-game that's increased the last few weeks. No more salivating over the latest Alienware; I'm bringing that baby home.
The money should be earmarked for a sofa but I'd rather stick with my plastic garden chairs than drop my rank in game. Hell, I spend most evenings in my desk chair anyway.
I'm snapped back to consciousness like an elastic band as the whispering voices start again. I strain to hear, as always, but never do. Urgent. One male, one female. Arguing.
My phone pings.
Oh for fuck's sake...
Half way through typing a expletive filled response, I jolt as my laptop screen flashes to life, illuminating the room. My chest tightens and I take a tentative look at the screen.
Patch downloading.
Thank God, the bloody download stalled this week, and I'd worried the updates wouldn't be installed. Happened once before and I was locked out of the Game for one frustrating week, forced to take a trip to the local internet cafe.
I hold a hand out to close the laptop lid and my stomach tightens to match my chest as the screen flashes. Blue screen, filled with jumbled numbers and letters. I know little about programming, no point me trying to read this. If this old model is dying, thank the stars my laptop quest finishes tomorrow.
Symbols join row after row of lowercase letters, interspersed with numbers, white against the blue screen. My external hard drive flashes too, a dull whining emitted from the black box.
Shit. My dying laptop is about to take the drive down with her.
My photos.
When did I last back them up to the Cloud?
I seize hold of the hard drive and rip the cable from the USB port. The whining continues and I grasp my hands over my ears. A pressure grows behind my eyes, pushing white across my vision. Pain traverses my body, travelling along nerve endings as if I've been injected with poison. I gasp for breath as the sensation builds in my chest, a crushing weight knocking me backwards.
The screen blackens as I do.