The door closed behind him with a sturdy thud and then vanished. The room was stark white and completely empty, no desk, no furniture, nothing. The Writer paused, trying to recall the command he had used for the triple payout before. The stillness of the empty room gave him a moment to think. Then he remembered and said, “Console Control Advance Mode Yellow – Mod Code S001.”
But nothing happened; the room remained white and empty. He repeated, “Console Control Advance Mode Yellow – Mod Code S001.” Still, nothing changed. Confused, he glanced around the room, searching for any sign of change in the walls.
Suddenly, a figure materialized in the center of the room. The man was tall, with a well-defined jaw and perfectly parted black hair.
“Surprise,” the man said, wiggling his fingers as if performing jazz hands on Broadway.
The Writer, startled, took a step back against the wall. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Catching a cheater,” the man replied, snapping his fingers and summoning a pair of handcuffs, which he began to twirl around his extended index finger.
The man wore a blue uniform jacket over a white dress shirt and shiny gold loafers. On his shirt was a gold nameplate with “Jack - CEO” written on it in small encrusted jewels. Jack noticed the Writer eyeing his nameplate and smiled.
“I like an understated style,” he said, tapping his gold shoes together. “I’m a modest man.”
Jack continued spinning the handcuffs on his finger as he walked closer to the Writer, who was now pressed against the white wall. The Writer looked around the room once more, but it was still completely empty.
“I didn’t know… I was cheating,” the Writer stammered.
He extended his hand, palms open, trying to show he meant no harm. But Jack continued to walk forward, his feet moving in an almost prancing step. “You and every other cheater,” Jack said, using his free hand to grab one of the Writer’s arms. With a swift motion, he snapped the cuffs onto his wrist.
Sweat pooled on the Writer’s hairline and began to run down his face. He tried to move his hands apart, but his wrists were stuck. He looked at Jack, staring into his eyes, defeated.
Jack smirked and, through his sly smile, said, “Well… maybe it doesn’t have to be this way.” He let go of the handcuffs and flicked the chain holding the cuffs together. “If you help me, maybe I’ll help you,” he said, still grinning.
Jack turned his back and began to pace around the room. The Writer was left standing there with his hands still stuck in place. He began to wonder what all this meant; frankly, he didn’t even know he was cheating or that he could be caught, much less what the punishment was for cheating.
“Sure,” he said, figuring helping this man was better than the alternative.
Jack turned, spinning on the soles of his gold shoes. “Perfect.” He snapped his fingers, and the handcuffs quickly disappeared from the Writer’s wrists. “Your friend, Miss Rapusha, is avoiding a ‘conversion’. I would like for you to help me find her.”
The Writer raised his eyebrows. “Whatever you want.”
“Great,” Jack said, pulling a small metal disk from his pocket and holding it out to the Writer. “Put this in your pocket and keep it there. That is all that I ask of you.”
The Writer held out his hand and took the disk from Jack. As he took the disk, he noticed Jack’s hands. They were incredibly well-manicured with French tip nails.
“Okay, but how will that help you?” the Writer asked.
“Don’t worry about it. Just worry about making it out of this room,” Jack said with a chuckle, then suddenly he disappeared.
The Writer put the disk in his pocket, and suddenly a desk, chair, and laptop appeared in front of him. The voice returned, “Objective: write a Ranch Romance.”
A timer appeared above the laptop, counting down from 24:59:56.
“Crap,” the Writer said out loud. He had forgotten about the challenge in the room during his interaction with Jack. He had assumed after speaking with him that he wouldn’t have to do one, but that did not seem to be the case.
He wondered what he would write; it had to be good, as he only had one life left. Then he thought about Lone Pine and all the Ranch Romances he knew. He figured he could write some story about a man saving a woman and a ranch, but he didn’t like those. He didn’t like anything too expected. But then he had an idea. He would just write the story of Lewis.
So, he sat down with his fingers feeling quite comfortable on the keyboard and began to type:
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
(Lewis spent his life writing westerns. When he died, he decided he would live one. So he uploaded his consciousness into a western simulation and was excited to live out his days saving damsels and having shootouts with bandits. It was his dream to be a real cowboy.
But reality is rarely as good as one’s dreams. He was stuck living the life of a desperado, being the only living one in a town full of NPCs. Everyone in the town was designed to fulfill his fantasy, but he was done living in the fantasy, yet he could not stop.
A man wearing some generic western attire stopped him in town. He told him some story about bandits stealing his ranch and his daughter, but the Cowboy skipped through the details. He had heard it all before and would hear it all again. The man bent over crying, overcome with programmed sadness, but Lewis, the cowboy, felt nothing.
He rode through the western plains, through rolling hills, vibrant sunsets, past herds of wild buffalo, but the Cowboy remained unmoved. He simply leaned in his saddle and passed the time, heading to a camp by a ranch on the edge of the map that he had been to countless times before. The Cowboy rode to a cliff overlooking the ranch and the bandit camp. He pulled out his long rifle, steadied it on a rock as he had done the last time he encountered this mission, and swiftly shot the bandits below. One took off with the girl on a horse, and a flash of excitement entered the Cowboy. This had not happened before; it was something new. Firing a few more shots, he dispatched the other bandits and also gave the rider a bit of a head start.
He mounted up with a grin and spurred his horse into action. Galloping down the dirt trail after the bandit carrying off the damsel, he was reminded of his own book, Deadman Trail, where the young ranch hand chases after the daughter of the ranch owner in a similar manner. He was thrilled to be living his story.
But soon he caught the bandit, who was severely out-horsed. He tossed his lasso easily around him and pulled him from the horse, ending the chase before it could really get going. He waited with the bandit squirming on the ground, hoping he would reach for his gun, adding a bit of excitement to this event, but he didn’t.
The Cowboy walked up to the tied bandit and shot him once with his revolver in the back of the head. He helped the damsel from the back of the horse, and she reached to hug him and offer him a kiss. But the Cowboy moved back. She looked familiar, her blue eyes, heart-shaped face, and light blue dress. The damsel was the same woman as the last time he did this quest. Even she was repeating.
He walked over and sat beside the corpse of the bandit. The woman followed, shouting the same line over and over, “Come here, hero.”
The Cowboy took out his revolver, moved it to his temple, and wondered what would happen if he changed something and pulled the trigger.)
The Writer looked up as he finished. There were still almost 3 minutes on the timer, but he felt done. A red submit button appeared beside him, and he pressed it.
“This is not a normal Ranch Romance, but what is,” he said out loud as the laptop disappeared.
The voice returned and said, “Advance AI: Objective: write a Ranch Romance.”
Quickly the AI began its work.
(Title: Love on the Prairie
Emma had always dreamed of a life far from the bustling city. When she inherited her grandfather’s ranch in Montana, she saw it as a chance to start anew. The sprawling fields, the endless sky, and the promise of a simpler life called to her. But she hadn’t anticipated the challenges that came with running a ranch.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the prairie, Emma struggled to fix a broken fence. She wiped the sweat from her brow and sighed in frustration. Just then, a deep voice called out, “Need a hand?”
She turned to see a tall, ruggedly handsome man with piercing blue eyes and a warm smile. “I’m Jake,” he said, extending a hand. “I work at the neighboring ranch. Saw you could use some help.”
Emma hesitated for a moment but then accepted his help. Together, they worked on the fence, and as they did, they talked. Jake shared stories of his life on the ranch, and Emma found herself opening up about her dreams and fears. There was an easy camaraderie between them, and by the time the fence was fixed, the stars were twinkling above.
“Thank you, Jake,” Emma said, genuinely grateful. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”
Jake smiled. “Anytime, Emma. If you ever need anything, just holler.”
Days turned into weeks, and Jake became a regular presence at the ranch. He taught Emma how to ride a horse, mend fences, and even how to cook a proper ranch meal. They spent hours together, working side by side, and slowly, their friendship blossomed into something deeper.
One crisp autumn evening, as they sat by the fire, Jake turned to Emma. “You know, Emma, I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re strong, determined, and you have a heart of gold.”
Emma blushed, her heart racing. “Jake, I feel the same way about you. You’ve been my rock, and I can’t imagine this place without you.”
Jake took her hand in his, his eyes searching hers. “Emma, I know this might sound sudden, but I love you. I want to build a life with you here on this ranch.”
Tears welled up in Emma’s eyes as she smiled. “I love you too, Jake. More than words can say.”
From that moment on, they were inseparable. Together, they faced the challenges of ranch life, their love growing stronger with each passing day. They built a home filled with laughter, love, and the promise of a future together.
Years later, as they stood on the porch, watching the sun set over the prairie, Emma leaned into Jake’s embrace. “We did it, Jake. We built our dream.”
Jake kissed her forehead, his heart full. “Yes, we did, Emma. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And so, under the vast Montana sky, their love story continued, a testament to the power of love, hard work, and the beauty of a life built together on the prairie.)
As the Writer read the last sentence of the AI’s work, he felt a mix of satisfaction and relief. The AI had produced the most basic Ranch Romance he had ever read. Confident in his unique perspective on a well-known genre, he believed he would have no trouble winning.
But then, the reviews started pouring in for his story:
* 1 Star: “This is not a Ranch Romance!!! It is not happy!”
* 1 Star: “Sad, nooooo”
* 2 Stars: “Good story, wrong genre”
Despite the AI’s lackluster performance, it managed to achieve three 3 Star reviews, with most saying it was a basic Ranch Romance, but that they liked it.
The Writer knew what was coming next, but the future remained uncertain.
The voice returned, “Writer, your work is reviewed at 1.3 stars. The challenge was reviewed at 3 stars. The result is failure. Followers: 102.”
Then, everything went black.