by Harley Vex
"We had to detach you from Creationist, though. Soon, Salvos will stop supporting Creationist and stop releasing updates. That will happen in less than a year. You may have gained a couple hundred subs, Mike, but you would have soon lost them when the next big thing comes out on the market."
"Detach me?" My chest seems to hollow out at the news. Salvos stopping updates on Creationist seems like something that would never happen.
"Why don't you turn around?" Matt asks. "And you'll see why Creationist is about to dry up."
I take a breath.
And then I turn around to face the basement.
Bright light and neutral gray walls greet me. Two rows of glass boxes, all six by eight feet, stand against the walls. I count four boxes on each wall, for a total of eight.
Wait. They're not boxes, but chambers.
Each box has a row of long blue lights on its ceiling and some familiar roller balls on the floor. Unlike my Virtual World Platform back home, the roller balls here are small, the size of marbles, and set on a flat surface. A glass door on the front of each chamber with the fiery Salvos flag on the front.
And players occupy two of the boxes.
Both wear the black bodysuits and the black helmets that Matt and Don are in. But while my kidnappers are lacking gloves, the players in the boxes are wearing black gloves made from some shiny material. One guy waves his hands in the air as if he's putting something together or moving parts into place. He splays his fingers out over and over as if shooting something from his hand. Another player, a woman judging from her height and shape, is holding an invisible object and swinging it at something I can't see. Then she runs in place as the roller balls spin and even rise a bit at times, keeping her from banging into the walls.
"So you really are Salvos Corporation," I say, frozen.
"Welcome to our testing room," Candi says. "Now, we all need to be able to exit the elevator."
I step into the room, finally letting everyone else out. "No way. This is too good to be true."
She grins. "For most, it is. Right now, this new game is in closed beta. Top secret. And Anton only wants fewer than ten beta testers right now. If you join us, we'll be up to a total of seven. We have plenty of builders and adventurers. But we need an inventor."
And then she winks.
"An inventor? What? So is this a completely new game?"
Candi reaches out and grabs the metal handle to one of the glass doors. "Completely new experience. Not only do we have a new sandbox game in the works, but we have a whole new virtual reality system that's about to take the world by storm."
Oh, no. She's got me. Tingling excitement explodes across my palms. Despite my kidnapping, I'm itching to step into one of those boxes and see what's engrossing those players. "So, a new game and a new VR system?"
The redhead knows I'm hooked. Her eyes flash and she flings a strand of her hair back, breaking her professionalism. "Precisely."
I can't hold back. "What's this game called?"
"If you agree to become a beta tester, you must sign a non-disclosure agreement. We've all signed it, so we can't give you any details. Conditions are so tight that we can't even give each other hints or talk that much about our experience."
"You're a beta tester, too?" I don't need to ask what a non-disclosure agreement is. I haven't found a job in my field yet, but I remember most of what I learned in my law books. Basically, you sign the agreement and shut up about whatever you're working on to everyone.
"Beta tester and recruiter," Candi says with a nod.
"Oh. Because it's top secret,'" I say, flexing my fingers to make quotation marks. "Tell me. Would I get paid for this and would that be in the contract, too? Everything needs to be in writing."
Candi puts up an instant mask. "The only detail I am allowed to offer right now is that you will receive free lodging in this building, Salvos's Charlotte office, in exchange for becoming a beta tester. It will be a requirement along with silence. Salvos is very serious about releasing no details of this game to the public until it is close to release and they've balanced the game."
"What else?" I think of Natalie. Beta testing a new adventure sounds fun and sends a thrill down my spine I haven't felt since first starting Creationist. "What about pay?"
"I cannot divulge that information. I'm sorry." She picks at the lapel on the front of her suit.
"You seem happy about this." Dread curls in my gut. I've got to be careful and scrutinize everything.
"To be fair, you also seemed happy to be walking to that call center. Did you know that Everworld Hosting is little more than a scam?"
Her words hurt and I flinch. "You know I work there?"
"Your place of employment is on your People Profile," she says, referring to my social media.
So she's been stalking me. "Well, you get right to the point," I say. "If you can't guarantee pay, I can't do this. I'm sorry."
Candi's face falls. Even Matt drops his shoulders. And I know the answer to the pay situation.
You have to do what you have to do, Dad would say.
I die a little more inside. To my shock, I'm not that angry. If they're right, me winning Monster Crag Castle wouldn't have done much, or just given me a little taste of a dream that would get yanked away from me again. "I'd love to hop in one of those boxes and play more video games but it hasn't gotten me anywhere so far. This is too much like an unpaid internship." I want Candi to refute me. To open up and tell me that I'll get a paycheck. They need an inventor, as she put it. Maybe they can make it work.
But instead, Candi reaches into her front pocket and produces a black and blue business card. "I understand why you have doubts, Mike Wattles. Don't speak of this, but if you do, it's not as if anyone will believe you. Call me if you change your mind."
I swallow and take the card, anxious to see what all this is about but also anxious to leave. The agent's name is Candi Summers, spelled out beside Salvos Corporation's logo. She's listed as a Recruiter and her phone number and email shimmer when I turn the card. I tuck the card into my pocket, wondering if I'm making the dumbest mistake or the smartest move in my life. "Thanks," I say. "Can you show me out? I have to get to my job."
CHAPTER SIX
I did the right thing. Leaving my job for a stunt with no guarantee of pay is a stupid move. This call center might suck but it's a way to stay afloat until something better comes along, as Dad would say. They can always offer me some extra hours and I have benefits that I know about. With Natalie's boss getting on her case, I need those.
And I managed to sneak back into work two nights ago without the boss seeing. The assistant manager, Wendy, is pretty laid back and lets minor things slide.
Now I just have to work for my goal. And forget about the offer. It wouldn't have paid. The body language of all involved already warned me about that. And whatever game is in the works will come out soon enough. I'll get to see it.
What if?
"Shut up," I mutter, turning back to my workstation. The question keeps rising in my mind like some bad infection. Rubbing my temples, I adjust my headset. I'm once again losing focus on this call and the woman on the other end is almost in tears.
"...three hundred and fifty dollars. I don't even use the Plants For Profit website anymore. I stopped that business last year. I sent in an email request last month to take the site down and I still got charged." Her voice is one tone away from a croak. "Please, just listen."
"I'm listening, Ma'am," I say on autopilot. The lines. Yes. "I'll pass this along to our accounting team and see that they take care of it. That'll likely happen in three to four business days." I eye the Script Tips poster hanging on the wall on the other side of the room. 1.) Always say that you're listening. 2.) Buy time. 3.) When in doubt, "Pass It Along."
Yet another piece of my brain turns into mush.
"Another tech told me this last week, after I got charged fifty dollars for some security package I never ordered!" She's losing it. "Croc Ho
sting used to be great. What happened?"
My gut turns. Around me, ten other call center techs handle calls from frustrated, unwitting customers. The heat in the small room rises off the computers towards the flickering florescent lights. A spark of life, sharp but alive, knifes its way into my chest. Ma'am, they were secretly bought by Everworld Hosting last year, along with two dozen other good companies that now suck.
"I'm hearing your concerns. I'm very sorry you're going through this." My own voice goes from a robotic drawl to something on the border of real empathy. Something in me is about to snap. Oh, no. I can't do this, but I sense there's no stopping the tsunami.
I eye my monitor's clock and the script on the screen. Six-thirty PM. I still have ten hours to go on my shift.
"The last guy told me this. I want your manager, for crying out loud! Someone who can do something."
The chair's making my butt go numb. Sweat gathers on my neck. I know what I'm supposed to say. I'll leave a message. He'll call you back tomorrow.
"Please. I can't afford this bill."
"Then tell your bank to block the charges," I say. "That's the only way to get them to stop. Call them right now and tell them to block every charge from Everworld Hosting. It'll show up as EHHosting.com on your bill."
The woman goes silent.
And at last, she speaks. "Thank you for the first decent advice I've gotten from you guys. You're a decent young man. Too many people out there are just in it for money."
A strange feeling fills my chest as she hangs up. It's warm, glowing, and has a slight magical tingle. I eye my screen for a few seconds. What have I done? The right thing, a little voice in my head says, before the sound of shuffling footsteps approaches my work station from behind.
"Mike Wattles. I see that, along with losing a customer, you punched in two hours late the other night."
The warm glow screams and pops out of existence.
I swallow.
And slowly, I rotate my chair around, despite my freshly ringing phone.
The air goes still thanks to the lumbering form of my boss, Landon, standing over me. Landon has his open laptop balanced between his forearm and his gut, with his tie pushed out of the way by the computer. He trains his eyes on his screen as if I'm a slug that he doesn't want to look at, but his eyes are narrower than usual. A bit of sweat gathers under his chin as he stands there, letting the silence draw out.
And I know that my fate is sealed.
What's wrong with me?
Why did I have to do something so stupid?
Are those nagging thoughts about the new game really getting to me that much?
"Hey, Landon. I'm sorry about that. I was getting harassed the other night by some jerks in a car and had to make a detour to get to work." There was that. Salvos Corporation made sure to make me late to my job which is another reason I didn't jump all over their offer.
"That is not a proper work ethic," Landon says. "Around here, we want workers who are enthusiastic about their jobs and who show up here on time. Our most valued employees work hard to retain our customer base and stick to the company line. In short, they are loyal to their employer."
I know what he's saying before he continues. We stare at each other, and once again he lets the quiet between us stretch into infinity. I hate that tactic. And at the same time, I don't understand the point. The sounds of other ringing phones and the conversations of other call center drones fade into the background.
But there's no going back now. That little spark of life rises in me again, and this time it reaches my voice box.
"I've been loyal for almost two years and haven't gotten a single raise. Or that Christmas bonus that got cancelled because the CEO was trying to pay off the stockholders."
I know I've struck a nerve. A flush spreads into Landon's cheeks and he tightens his grasp on his laptop. A tingle of satisfaction races up my spine even though I know what he's about to say.
"Mike. Get up. Get out. We'll mail you your check."
Close enough. I rise out of my chair, a volcano of fury blocking out my small victory. "Thanks, Landon. There's a very small chance you've just improved my life tenfold. Enjoy working for these scammers." And with that, I throw down my headset and walk out the door.
* * * * *
During the walk home, I manage to cool down a bit and breathe. What have I done? Dad's going to be furious. I'll have to tell Natalie. That will make her feel better about he boss setting her up.
"Great job, Mike!" I want to kick something but there's nothing on the street that qualifies.
I still hate Salvos Corporation for pulling a literal kidnapping on me the other night and putting me in this position, probably on purpose, but the longer I think about it, the more tempting Candi's business card looks each time I pull it from my shirt pocket. I've kept it with me over the past couple of days, wanting to throw it away and stop myself from falling for it. But I haven't been able to bring myself to do it, instead scanning every letter of Candi's email address and every character in her phone number.
It's a trap!
"Yes, I know it is," I say. Salvos might be a big company, but so is Everworld Hosting and they're nothing but a black hole. Then again, Salvos made Creationist. They gave something back to the world.
"Mike, knock it off." I half-jog past a coffee shop, drawing a stare from a guy inside who's reading a paper.
And then my phone rings rather than buzzes with a text. Great. That can't be good. Phone calls are reserved for just one of two things: scam calls and world-ending news.
It's Natalie. I swipe up to answer, knowing which possibility is the most likely one.
"Hey." I slow my walk.
"Mike. I thought you might be working but I wanted to try you anyway." Natalie's got a fake, high-pitched tone to her voice like she's nervous. I know her well, all the way down to her mannerisms.
"What's up, sis?" I swallow, knowing full well this won't be good. I stop and lean against a random building, trying to calm my nerves. I can't let Natalie get worried for me now. Bad news on my end might have to wait.
"I went to my follow-up appointment yesterday. And well, my white blood cell count was kind of high."
I pause as the whole world quiets. "That sucks. Do they think—"
"I should be fine so long as I keep this under control. The doctor said it wasn't that bad but I'll need to get some treatments. I guess it's a form of chemo and immunotherapy?"
"Sis, that sucks." My mind spins. I want to have some sage advice for her, so I work my brain for any legal stuff I might remember. "File for short-term disability now. Then you can't be fired because of any health related reasons."
"Trust me, Mike, I'm already working on it. The problem is—"
"Your boss has been building an unfair and BS case against you," I finish for her.
"And it has nothing to do with my health," Natalie says. "He's been trying to make me look incompetent for months. Last week, he wrote me up for not getting the sum on that spreadsheet right. I triple-checked it, so I don't understand how it was wrong when it got to him."
I swallow, knowing how meticulous my sister is with everything. Natalie's the accountant of a meatpacking company and was the top of her high school and college math classes. There's no way she's been making all these errors. Back in school, she was always the one leading class projects and pulling perfect grammar and grades. She hasn't had a "problem" since telling HR that she had a potential health issue last year. Hm.
"I'm sorry you're dealing with this."
"Don't be." She's struggling to stay upbeat because she has that breath at the end of her sentences. "I guess they say that young, fit people usually go into remission with this treatment so I'll probably be okay."
"You're worried." Natalie has a slower moving, chronic form of leukemia, but it's scary all the same. The doctors have been watching her for years. Thankfully she hasn't needed any actual treatment until now.
She's silent for seconds.
"Mike, you know me too well."
"Well, we're almost considered twins. You might have to spend time out of work. The short-term disability will cover that part. It beats nothing. And once you're out of work, Pig Man can't find any way for you to have, quote on quote, screwed up."
"Mike, that makes sense. Thanks. I feel a bit better now. But I still want to keep working if I can."
I gulp because I don't. Pig Man has been sneaky and he won't stop now. I want to vomit or better yet, wrap my hands around her boss's throat. "You shouldn't have to go to work in that office when you're down from the treatment. I know chemo can be brutal."
"Well, I'm going to have to do my best. If I get canned, insurance is gone in thirty days. Not that it would make a ton of difference. It's crap insurance."
The entire sky, though now clear and full of stars, feels as if it's crushing down on me. I can barely breathe. "Hold on, Natalie. I...I asked for more hours at the call center and they gave them to me."
"Don't kill yourself. Mike, you're always doing too much. And you're better than that call center. I know Dad's always saying to wait for something better, but you know what? Maybe sometimes we have to go out and find it."
A strange feeling, like the universe is trying to tell me something, sweeps over me.
"I do this because you're my kid sis." I force a gleeful, evil tone into my voice even as I call myself a piece of crap for lying. "Just relax and get better, okay?"
We end the call there.
I'm halfway back to my apartment, but I don't put away my phone. Instead, I pull out Candi's business card again and begin to dial.
Maybe, just maybe, there's a way I can force this to work.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maybe I'm a hopeful idiot, reverting back to when I started college, thinking my Paralegal program would open up a world where I could swim in piles of gold coins. But I know full well it'll take months to find a paralegal job if I'm lucky. All the jobs in my area want five years of experience. Applying just earns me silence and moving to another city right now is not in the cards.
