I had a tiny pick gripped tightly in my hands, the rough texture of the leather wrapped around the handle conveyed through my glove. I had a set of goggles attached to my forehead, the zoom set to almost 100% as I put in intricate work that was an essential part of my work.
I had finished shaping the item last night, putting me even farther ahead of schedule. I was now settled down at my desk. An adjustable oil-burning lamp burned above my head, illuminating the piece and the scattered design drawings that coated my desk. I had about three hundred different patterns, and a set ten or so that were basically my trademark. On a weapon of this size and expected tier, I would need approximately seventy-six etchings at around 68% zoom. I was working on my thirty-second at 82% zoom. Never let it be said that my shop didn’t produce above-standard equipment.
My hands started cramping up later, and I set down the pick with a sigh. I grabbed the weapon and turned it over and over in my hand, admiring the balance and decals. It was getting there. A very elaborate piece indeed.
He wanted a tier five. That was a good solid weapon. A ten was bordering on special item. Seventeen was the highest-discovered tier. Benboy and Skul’s faction of course had it in their pockets. The highest I’d ever produced was a seven, though I knew I was capable of much more.
I didn’t like making high tier weapons though. I mean, I enjoyed the work. But handing it over always made me kind of sick. What were they planning to do with this? I didn’t want to spot one of my weapons in the hands of a bloc forerunner.
I decided it was time for a stroll. Sometimes I spent so long inside my shop that I forgot some people played this game for fun.
I made sure the forge wasn’t about to spill out and burn the whole place down, and then unbolted the door and stepped out. I locked it behind me, and turned to face the cobbled street. Giant lamps illuminated the street corners, lighting up huge pools of swimming light beneath their poles. I shared the street with a stable and a tavern. It was things like this that made me glad I didn’t have a full immersion suit. I’d have to smell them then.
I stepped up to the tavern, more for lack of something else to do than anything else. Our town was a bit of a dead hub, we had a lot of inhabitants, all of them just about as boring as I was. It was the strangers that kept us all from moving out. Or maybe it was the lack of strangers.
Anyways, stepping inside, I recognized barely anybody in the tavern. Then again, there was barely anybody in the tavern. I’m also not the most popular guy in town, so I know like six users tops. I sell most my stuff to people passing through.
One of my few acquaintances was there, though. I at first headed away, but then we made eye contact, and I had no choice. I stumped over and straddled a stool.
“Hey Nexo.” He said. “Ain’t seen you in a couple months. Aren’t going drop-decline on us, are you now?”
“I keep to my shop.” I said, my voice coming out slightly deeper and raspier thanks to the game’s voice editing software. You could change anything. You could be anything.
I was of above-average build, twenty-something and dressed in a flowing cloak that served to obscure my features. My skin glistened a bit in the torchlight, a chocolaty brown, that matched up pretty well with me in real life. My features were kind of haggard and drawn, my beard a bit scraggly and long, my hair pulled back off my head and disappearing into my hood. It actually went all the way down to my waist, but I was probably the only person in the game who realized that. It was an achievement of sorts. Hair grew at the regular rate here; I hadn’t had a trim in four years. The fact that you had to pay for a haircut in-game might have been a piece of that.
“Huh, well, you always were a bit of badger.” He swished the remains of his drink around in his glass. “Cooped up in that hole.”
I didn’t deign to reply. I honestly didn’t care for the guy all that much. But I liked him more than most. He knew how to keep his mouth shut.
It was a good five minutes before I made the next comment. “There was a jostle on the leaderboard. What’s the news?”
“Chovacs and Frinks are at it again.” He said, referring to the number one and two. “They both kept their main men out of it, though. There was a dinner party turned terrible. Turns out about half the people attending had an intended victim. Heads rolled.”
“Anybody I’d know?”
“Personally, no.” He pulled out a pocketknife and started to doodle on the wood counter. “By reputation, yeah, probably. Majolo9050 and Captain Norris.”
“That’s big.”
“Eh, they were dispensable. Ultra ain’t coping though, so something’s about to go down.”
“Ultra?”
“You really do live under a rock.”
I shrugged. “Guess you can tell me all about it next time.” I stood up to go.
“You never ordered anything!” He protested.
“I don’t spend money on virtual drinks.”
“Not even virtual money?” He called after me, but I ignored him.
“Next time, Boomer.”
“I just can’t wait.” He threw back at me, but I was already out the door.
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
“I’m not playing the part.” She waved a finger at me.
“Oh bricks.” I finally said, becoming resigned to my fate. “What’s the system like here?”
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
“Yeah.” I said, worried about the implications.
“Still got like three years to go. Plenty of fun.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You didn’t even have all the suspense. You won’t fully appreciate the privilege.”
“I think I’ll skip.”
“WHAT?” She burst out. “First off, you can’t. Second off, why?”
“Can’t?”
“Mandatory. It’s a law. Big deal. Nobody gets out. Not the emos. Not the fat kids. Not the nerds. Not even the principal’s daughter.”
“Are there medical passes?”
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
She cut me off. “Whatever. Point is, you’re playing, and you’re gonna love it.”
“Whatever.” I shot straight back at her. “I’ve got my ways.”
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
I feel like you watched some sort of anime to get you inspired for this.
Fair dinkum this story sections great! Im only on page 2 and am loving it! Hats off to the author, top notch stuff! Man i have to do something like this! xD
Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it!
You should totally write something! I'd read it for sure!
“Whatever.” I said, pulling the door further open and disappearing inside. “I’m well ahead of schedule, so you might as well take a peek.”
He quickly hopped inside, shutting the door behind him. He slunk behind me, kind of sidling along. I grabbed the hammer-pick he had requested. It was a duel-sided club, with one end of the head for crushing, the other a spike. In the right hands, it’d be a fearsome weapon indeed. I turned around, bringing it out into the light.
He skittered over for a good look. “Oooh, yes, yes…very nice.”
I nodded. “I’ll have it done for sure by the date agreed on. If it gets done earlier, I’ll contact you.”
His head bobbed up and down. “Good, good. Yes, it looks like you’re almost done.”
“Not even close.” I said. “The detail work isn’t even begun.”
“Detail work?”
“How high tier the weapon depends on the craftsmanship inputted. You requested a five.” I did a quick check. “It’s a two right now.”
“Oh, well…it’s going to be very pretty, isn’t it?” He rubbed his hands together.
I shrugged. “If you think weapons are pretty.” I motioned to the door. “Lock that on your way out. I won’t be emerging.”
He took the hint, and backed away. “Oh, gladly.” He kind of bowed his way out, very carefully closing the door after himself.
With a bit of frustrated sigh, I turned back to the hammer-pick. I grabbed my tool bag, and then headed for the lamp. I’d need my best lighting for this part.
I pulled the last glove off, and carefully set it on the ground. And then I basically dashed for the stairs.
I had logged out of the game when I finally recognized the insistent beeping in the back of my consciousness as a warning buzzer that I was dangerously low on fuel, ahem, food.
So now I was a bit dizzy, and trying to navigate through a new house. I clambered down the steps, bumped into the wall, and then pulled myself into the kitchen, leaning heavily on a counter. I made my way to the fridge, threw it open, and let my eyes rove over the contents. There wasn’t much. In fact, there was a giant hole in the back of it, which I could only assume the Tremblays knew about.
A hand tapped me on the shoulder. “Allow me.”
I turned to see December standing beside me, dressed in a fuzzy shirt and pants, her scarf still wrapped about her throat.
“The good stuff is all in here.” She opened another door, and a colder blast of air emitted. She grabbed a carton. “See, ice cream. That’s got midnight snack written all over it.”
I grabbed it, nodding my thanks. I snatched a dirty spoon off the counter, and snapping the lid off, started shoveling it into my mouth.
I glanced up at her. She was staring at me intensely. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” She grabbed another spoon and chipped out a spoonful from the same carton. “Good stuff, right?”
“It’s giving me brainfreeze.” I kept eating, though.
“So, uh, how long you had that?” She gestured at my exposed metallic hand. I mentally cursed myself, I had forgotten to pull on another pair of gloves after taking off my gaming ones.
I tugged on my sleeve, but it was no use. I gave a little grunt. “Years.”
“I’m going to assume you don’t think of it as your best feature?” She raised an eyebrow, sneaking another spoonful.
“I know how it makes other people feel.” I said, assuming she was referring to the gloves I had been wearing previously.
“It’s fascinating.” She said.
“Thanks, nerd.” I hunkered lower over the carton.
“Freak.” She shot back. “How much of you is metal?”
“Almost half.” I passed the carton to her.
“How’d it happen?” She dug out a huge chunk.
“It’s just a fad where I come from.” I cracked a pained grin to let her know I was kidding.
She put her spoon down. “No, really.”
"I was in the car when my parents died.” I said. “Drunk driver.”
“I’m sorry.” She said, cursing under her breath.
“My dad was the drunk.” And we finished the carton in silence.
1. Indeed. 2. Whoa, so that's why he's a cyborg...
2. Yeah...I was trying to keep it from being sterotypical and all.
The next day was all about saying no. Did I want new clothes? No. Did I want to see the city? No. Did you know you’re going to have to go to school? No. That one came as a shocker.
“School?” I choked out once I was upstairs.
December, who was hanging around my room like she owned it, picked at her nails. “Of course. We’re not going to break off your education just cause of the move.”
“No-no-no-no-no-no-NO!” I rubbed my temples, feeling the synthesized skin rub against the metal underneath. “This can’t be happening. No. Just no. Can’t do it.”
“You’re acting like education is a foreign concept to you.” She sneered, biting at a nail finally.
“It brickin is!” I snarled back.
“Huh, what?” She asked, sitting up now, nails forgotten.
I buried my head in my hands, but then jumped up to kick at a shirt lying on the floor. “I never went to school.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re a heathen.”
“That’s not what that word means.”
“Illegitimate.”
“Yes, but still no.”
“Illiterate.” She finally reached.
I shook my head. “No, I’m not. There’s a whole brickin’ internet out there. I learned to read when I was four.”
That fact seemed to cool her jets a bit. “Math?”
“One plus one equals eleven.” I grinned cockily. “Seven times nine?” She shot back, dead serious.
“Sixty-three.” I replied. “Look, I got the basics down. Brick, nobody over there ain’t got that. We just saved ourselves hundreds of hours and some public salaries and all taught ourselves.”
“You’re dead meat.” She said. “They’ll pick you apart like vultures.”
“They?”
“Teachers. Students. The janitor. Everybody.” She waved her arm expansively, almost knocking off a lamp.
“Oh, well, good, nothing to worry about then.” I rolled my eyes. “Guess it’s time to play my ace.”
“And that is?”
“I show your mom the arm and she’ll freak out and send me back home.”
1. Sooner then I learned. 2. Wait is that right? * Tries to think, gives up seconds later and uses a calculator * Oh that is the answer, cool. Yeah he'll be fine, he's better than me. Nate just needs to worry about the social stuff.
1. Ironically, I think that's when I learned.
2. You put me in a panic there real quick. That would've been so embarrassing.
I had a tiny pick gripped tightly in my hands, the rough texture of the leather wrapped around the handle conveyed through my glove. I had a set of goggles attached to my forehead, the zoom set to almost 100% as I put in intricate work that was an essential part of my work.
I had finished shaping the item last night, putting me even farther ahead of schedule. I was now settled down at my desk. An adjustable oil-burning lamp burned above my head, illuminating the piece and the scattered design drawings that coated my desk. I had about three hundred different patterns, and a set ten or so that were basically my trademark. On a weapon of this size and expected tier, I would need approximately seventy-six etchings at around 68% zoom. I was working on my thirty-second at 82% zoom. Never let it be said that my shop didn’t produce above-standard equipment.
My hands started cramping up later, and I set down the pick with a sigh. I grabbed the weapon and turned it over and over in my hand, admiring the balance and decals. It was getting there. A very elaborate piece indeed.
He wanted a tier five. That was a good solid weapon. A ten was bordering on special item. Seventeen was the highest-discovered tier. Benboy and Skul’s faction of course had it in their pockets. The highest I’d ever produced was a seven, though I knew I was capable of much more.
I didn’t like making high tier weapons though. I mean, I enjoyed the work. But handing it over always made me kind of sick. What were they planning to do with this? I didn’t want to spot one of my weapons in the hands of a bloc forerunner.
I decided it was time for a stroll. Sometimes I spent so long inside my shop that I forgot some people played this game for fun.
I made sure the forge wasn’t about to spill out and burn the whole place down, and then unbolted the door and stepped out. I locked it behind me, and turned to face the cobbled street. Giant lamps illuminated the street corners, lighting up huge pools of swimming light beneath their poles. I shared the street with a stable and a tavern. It was things like this that made me glad I didn’t have a full immersion suit. I’d have to smell them then.
I stepped up to the tavern, more for lack of something else to do than anything else. Our town was a bit of a dead hub, we had a lot of inhabitants, all of them just about as boring as I was. It was the strangers that kept us all from moving out. Or maybe it was the lack of strangers.
Anyways, stepping inside, I recognized barely anybody in the tavern. Then again, there was barely anybody in the tavern. I’m also not the most popular guy in town, so I know like six users tops. I sell most my stuff to people passing through.
One of my few acquaintances was there, though. I at first headed away, but then we made eye contact, and I had no choice. I stumped over and straddled a stool.
“Hey Nexo.” He said. “Ain’t seen you in a couple months. Aren’t going drop-decline on us, are you now?”
“I keep to my shop.” I said, my voice coming out slightly deeper and raspier thanks to the game’s voice editing software. You could change anything. You could be anything.
I was of above-average build, twenty-something and dressed in a flowing cloak that served to obscure my features. My skin glistened a bit in the torchlight, a chocolaty brown, that matched up pretty well with me in real life. My features were kind of haggard and drawn, my beard a bit scraggly and long, my hair pulled back off my head and disappearing into my hood. It actually went all the way down to my waist, but I was probably the only person in the game who realized that. It was an achievement of sorts. Hair grew at the regular rate here; I hadn’t had a trim in four years. The fact that you had to pay for a haircut in-game might have been a piece of that.
This new game is so cool!!
It's like the Echelon and the Game are CONpeting for which is more epic. XD
-last edited on Feb 15, 2019 3:19:09 GMT by TheGreatCon
Post by TheGreatCon on Feb 15, 2019 3:18:51 GMT
And cause I've got so much written waiting to post...
Chapter 5: Initiation
I watched intently as August pulled up the coordinates for the hovercar. I still found the self-driving cars unsettling. As we lifted off the ground, I settled back and prepared to be whizzed about hundreds of feet in the air trusting to a set of codes to not mash me into a telephone pole.
“We’ll drop off December first, and then we’ll get you situated at the school.” August said. Her seat swiveled around so that we were all facing each other. “How’s that sound?”
“Dreadful.” I said, because I know I’m horrible at lying.
She just kind of looked at me for a full five seconds, trying to figure out if I was joking or not. “What’s wrong?”
“I hate to sound like a five year-old, but I don’t wanna go to school.” I said, keeping an eye on the oncoming traffic.
“Toughen up champ.” December chucked me on the shoulder. “Look at this way…free crayons.”
Her mom gave her a hard look. She just grinned back, completely at ease.
“Why not?” August asked, giving me her best concerned-mom look.
“I don’t put much stock by an education.” We had queued up in a line in front of a large spiral building.
“Well, it’s kind of necessary.”
“No, not really.” I said doggedly.
“Plus it’s required by the state.” August settled back in her seat. “No luck bud. Maybe you’ll meet a cute girl.”
“Maybe you’ll get slapped.” December offered.
“Is she annoying you?” August asked, apparently on the verge of issuing her daughter a gag.
“Yeah.” I said. “It’s refreshing though.”
She sighed, obviously at her wit’s end to understand teenagers. Our hovercar had reached the front of the line. December leaned across and kissed me on the cheek. “Have a good day bro.”
I scrubbed furiously at my cheek. “Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
“No kidding, you taste bad.” She said, and cheerfully catapulted out of the car and onto the platform. She sauntered through the open doors, her knapsack flapping behind her.
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
I am well prepared for the rest of the story now. : )
![[h]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/jtnRIgBPmqPyAueTQkuT.png)
* Tries to think, gives up seconds later and uses a calculator *