Warren was torn. While the ice cream felt wonderfully soothing on his raw throat, what he really wanted was for everyone in the room to bugger off and leave him alone. His impotent raging as he logged out of The Age the day before had pulled every nurse in earshot into the room, it hadn’t solved the primary cause of his issue. He was still stuck in a body that refused to respond to his will. No amount of sheer determination could stop the man in scrubs beside him from patiently placing the next spoonful of frosty dairy treat against his lips and holding it there until he opened his mouth. He could no more take the spoon from the poor guy and feed himself than he could levitate from the bed.
Worst of all, in the aftermath of his first in-game death the doctor had turned off the room’s internet connection “so that he could sleep”. That meant that not only couldn’t he log back in and deal out the righteous ass kicking the goo monsters deserved but he also couldn’t stream any sort of media either. His choices were to sleep or watch the ceiling or listen to the high pitched whine of the tinnitus the crash had left him with.
Maybe not WORST of all, he thought morosely. Father is coming in to see me again today. He’ll want results.
His mother had tried coming in a few times to read to him or just talk but Warren hadn’t been in a talking mood. He got snippy and his mother got sad and it all degenerated from there. His sister had appeared in the doorway briefly as his mother left but all she did was glare at him and follow her out. I wonder what’s got her knickers in a twist? It can’t be anything worse than what I have to deal with.
In the end, Warren capitulated and accepted the food with bad grace. The ice cream was packed with nutrition he knew as he could taste the weird chemically background flavour but the main taste was choc mint and that mostly covered it. It was definitely cold enough to numb his mouth and help his battered vocal chords.
“Thank ‘ee Davis,” he acknowledged the nurse’s efforts. “It’s not you I’m mad at. The doc said that Father is comin’ later and I really don’t want to deal with that. Are you close with your Da?”
Davis’s face didn’t change from the perpetually pleasant almost-smile of a healthcare professional that likes having a job but he seemed to relax just slightly. “I don’t have one, young master. I don’t speak to one of my mothers though. Ope, looks like you’re done.”
Warren watched the nurse depart over his bottom lids then relaxed. Frustration boiled in his gut and threatened to tear its way up his throat again. He tried once more to connect to the internet and felt the same jangle in his nerves that indicated the connection was refused with prejudice. The electronic equivalent of “no and quit asking”. Warren could feel the vein in his temple pulsing as he was forced to stare at the ceiling and count the tiles again to try to calm down.
It wasn’t working.
Warren could feel the need to curse rising. The words of hate on the tip of his tongue. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.
“Good to see you this morning, boy.”
Self preservation clamped his mouth shut with a snap. Warren’s father stood framed in the doorway, from his polished leather shoes to the perfectly tailored suit to the exquisitely trimmed beard, every inch of him screamed “respectable scion of industry”. He strode into the room as though he owned everything in it and quite possibly the room as well. For all Warren knew he might do.
“I hear you’re not putting in the effort expected of a son of mine. Care to explain?” Warren’s father eyed the seat beside the bed before apparently deciding too many poor people had sat in it previously and electing to stand. In deference to comfort, he spun the chair around, put one foot on the cushion and leaned on his knee.
“I am trying my hardest, Father,” some defiance seeping into Warren’s voice, “I cannot just demand my body repair itself and expect it to obey.”
“I refer to the extended time you are spending in this… game… instead of at your studies. I had been assured you would be learning in this virtual world, attending classes and such. Instead I am shown footage of you messing about with your friends. At least that Pham kid is making proper use of his time. You could learn a lot from him.”
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“The geek?” Warren grumbled. “What’s he got to do with anything?” Warren knew he was edging very close to being disrespectful, the most heinous crime in his family’s book, but he was also struggling to care.
“The geek, as you call him, has seen the truth of this simulation, the one I’d hoped you’d see instead of just forming another football team. I’ll admit I was sceptical at first, but what is the first rule of business?”
“Never do anything for free?” Warren turned his eyes away from his father, edging closer to sarcasm than he’d ever dared before.
“Information is power, boy,” his father’s voice boomed and Warren knew he’d crossed a line. “You will never be ready to take over the company until you learn this most basic of lessons. Right now you’re acting at front line worker mentality. Not even middle manager. Is the only phrase you ever want to utter do you want fries with that?”
“No, father.”
“Do you want to lie in this bed for the rest of your life?”
“No, father.”
“Do you want your cousin to take my place when I retire?”
“No, fath - er, what?”
The big man took his foot off the chair and paced the room, hands clasped behind his back. “Your cousin has expressed both interest and ability in stepping up. While you’ve been off in fantasy land, he has taken over as captain of the team and while his wins aren’t as spectacular as those under your leadership, they are more consistent.” He paused to look out the window that Warren couldn’t even see. “Nice view, not worth the money if you only look at the ceiling though. Anyway, to put it in a parlance you’ll understand, this business doesn’t need fifty to nil thrashings every now and again, we need five point wins every week. And that’s what your cousin is getting with your old team. Do you see?”
Even though Warren had known in his heart of hearts that he’d never play again, it still stung that his cousin had taken over. It just hadn’t been in his nature to lead. It’s probably his mum doing it all for him, again. Just like she always paid for someone to do his homework for him since third grade. There was no way Warren was going to voice that opinion, however. He was already on thin ice. “I will do better, father. May I ask how this relates to Pham?”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to ask,” his father resumed pacing, but this time with a slightly puffed chest, like someone proud their puppy had used the litter tray for the first time. “That boy has realised that the simulation is built to replicate reality as closely as possible, magic and nonsense aside. He’s been teaching himself engineering at a college grade by building and testing devices. I’ve had Owen’s boy buy one of his schematics and export it to the real world. It’s cheap and easily made with recycled cellulose and marketing thinks the kids will love it. Add in a bit of electronics for lights and sounds and we’ve got something that a one season cartoon will sell billions of. All because he treats the simulation like it’s real. You’ve been treating the real world like a simulation. Driving drunk, what were you thinking? You nearly died, and reality doesn’t have a respawn point.”
Warren could see his father winding up again and wisely kept silent. His father probably wouldn't hit a cripple in a hospital bed with so many cameras and sensors hooked up. Probably. There’s different rules for people as rich as they were and his father and grandfather often said “my parents spanked me and I turned out fine” as though they hadn’t turned out pants-on-head insane.
After a short pause the colour eased in the man’s cheeks and he returned to his position beside the bed with one foot on the chair. He leaned over and looked Warren dead in the eyes. “Now, you’re going to grow up and start using the simulation the way we agreed, aren’t you?”
Ice water ran through Warren’s veins. This was much worse. This was so much worse. “Yes, father.”
“Don’t just yes, father me. I want to hear the words.”
“I am growing up, father. I will use the simulation to learn.” Warren’s voice came out in a raspy whisper. His throat felt like a clenched fist.
“Speak up, I can’t hear you.”
Warren forced the words out at a normal-ish volume. “I am growing up, father. I will use the simulation to learn.”
“Good boy. Now, I’ll be back next week. I have a lead on a promising drug trial to regrow the spinal nerves.” His father turned and walked to the door. “But only if you are behaving. Remember, I’m watching.”
“Always watching Wazowski,” Warren mimicked once he was absolutely certain he couldn’t be heard. “Always watching.”