Metropolis - Goldilocks: Capsule Bay 32 - Unit 6

Saturday, May 9th, 2089 | 5:57pm

[Status: In-Game]

By the time the prison’s dinner notification popped up, Aya was itching to get out of the game. She had just spent seventeen uninterrupted hours doing the most monotonous job imaginable, transcribing ONE scroll over and over and over again. After arriving at the Vault and retelling the tale of how she came to see Forgotten Knowledge, the eighteen Senior Librarians had hesitantly put her to work. At first, they were quite hostile, complaining about her criminal and her Outworlder status. Surprisingly enough, most of the complaints centered around the fact she had ‘cheated’ her way into the Vault. Some of the Senior Librarians had undergone years of tireless training to gain access and she had achieved it in just one day. The outrage was understandable.

However, they soon realized she could be a source of free labor, and they could shove their unwanted work off onto her. The Librarians were required by the state to hand in a certain number of Basic Contracts every month. The ability to read the Forgotten Knowledge was rare and they were handsomely compensated for their efforts with a commission for each contract but it was nothing in comparison to what they could make from Private Contracts.

In fact, the Contracts required by the state were the most basic kind of Contract used to fulfill everyday agreements. On the open market, an Official Basic Contract was worth anywhere between five and ten gold. The Librarian’s commission was usually two gold or less. A Librarian with an Advanced Scribe skill could usually transcribe around ten copies an hour. Twenty gold was quite a decent hourly rate for a state Librarian. However, there were many Contracts commissioned that were far more complex and personalized and thus worth a lot more. Some were worth hundreds of gold and the Librarian’s cut was proportionately higher, especially when they were direct requests to the Vault. Whenever the state was an intermediary, they ended with a sizable sum of the profits.

The moment the Senior librarians realized they could free themselves of the Basic Contract obligation, at least for a while, they stuck her with the Basic Contracts so they could pursue the higher commissions themselves. At first, Aya hadn’t minded that much; her new role had immediately diffused the Seniors’ general attitude toward her. She was quite happy with her assignment and its consequences until about two hours in, when she realized she wouldn’t be getting another one. Aya would have to continue indefinitely.

Seventeen hours and almost two hundred identical scrolls later, she couldn’t wait to get out of the game but she forced herself to stay for fourteen of the fifteen allowed minutes of the dinner notification before she logged out. Any time she served now was time she wouldn’t have to worry about the next day, time in which she would probably be doing the same thing anyway. The countdown of her Era prison sentence was a constant reminder of how each game minute shouldn’t be wasted.

When the capsule door opened and a wave of cool air washed over Chris’ skin, Aya had less than an hour left on her prison sentence . The cool temperature was a shock after the dry, musty Vault she had just spent a lifetime in. All of her senses reeled as they tried to adjust to the new reality. Every time she logged in or out of the game, she felt a moment of utter disorientation. Her eyesight and hearing felt dulled in the real world, while her sense of touch, taste and smell were heightened. It was a strange thing to realize your own mouth had a taste. It was even stranger to realize how a different body could completely change your perception of the world. But then again, maybe it was just the fact that they were such different worlds.

Chris wondered what Era would be like in her real body. She remembered Donovan’s unapologetically real avatar and understood for perhaps the first time why he chose his to be the way it was. Continuing to mull it over, she walked over to the wall near the door. Eight other convicts had already lined themselves up, waiting to be escorted to the cafeteria for dinner. She took her spot, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. It was as jarring as ever going from a world of runes and magic to one where you got in line for everything.

Her mind still played with the idea that she lost, or at least replaced, who she was when she was in-game. She thought back to her last day and wondered if she would have done things differently in her own body. But as soon as she remembered the game-learned skills and the modified treatment she received because of her childish appearance, she knew many of the events wouldn’t have even taken place in her real body.

As soon as the last convict logged out and joined the line-up against the wall, the procession to the cafeteria started. Her mind struggled with the idea of identity loss. Could it be that Era was becoming her new reality? In the last two days, she had spent a far greater amount of time in game than out of it. And in the real world she was either eating, sleeping, showering or preparing herself to go back into Era.

Chris watched the simulated views through the fake windows. Had she not been told, she would never have guessed them to be fake. The borders of reality were blurring both in and out of the real world. If she was able to guarantee her position as a player, or at least a grinder, by the end of the week, then those lines would be blurred even more.

As the guard stopped the line to open the next segment, she heard a fragment of a conversation ahead of her and suddenly realized she hadn’t checked her rank yet. She’d been mulling over it for the entirety of the past day. With her new manic creature, new skill and now very-profitable runic ability, she was bound to have risen significantly in rank. From what she had understood, the Warden cared about profitability more than anything.

She opened up her dashboard as another line of prisoners walked up next to them. When the gate was cleared, the two groups continued walking side by side in the direction of the cafeteria. Many of the convicts in the first slot for meal time were now logging out of their capsules and cramming into the hallways. Chris was mindlessly following the convict in front of her when a familiar voice broke into her thoughts, interrupting her rank search.

“Well hey there, Dearie,” Doris said. “How goes?”

Chris jerked slightly at the sudden intrusion, but disguised her surprise in the movement of her next step. She consciously took a second to clear her features before turning her head toward the woman. Chris had completely forgotten how disfigured the right side of the Doris’ face was. Her stomach sat uneasily around the disgusting remains of her lunch nutri-pack.

“It goes,” Chris covered with a smile, hoping to pull off a lighthearted air

Doris smiled in return before turning her attention forward. The woman’s presence was distracting and Chris didn’t want to check her ranking in front of Doris. The woman had an uncanny ability of reading her.

Doris herself was disconcerting. Chris hadn’t even noticed her approach. The woman must have switched places to end up by Chris’ side like that. The effort seemed wasted now as the woman walked in silence. Chris puzzled over what Doris wanted. She wondered if she should say something. Before she could come to a decision, the procession of convicts reached the cafeteria.

The guards left them to fend for themselves at the door, but Doris stayed by Chris’ side. After a moment of uncertain silence in the chaos of the cafeteria, Chris made her way to the food dispenser like everyone else. Doris followed.

They beelined their way to the food dispensers without speaking a word to each other. Chris’ discomfort with the situation only rose when they stopped by one of the tables to let an already trayed entourage through. Doris eyed them and their trays before turning to Chris.

“Wonder what’s for dinner today,” she said.

Her voice was so eager and convincing Chris almost started questioning herself. A glance at another passing tray reminded her there was no variety on gruel. They took their turn at the dispensers.

“Hopefully something good,” Chris said flatly as she placed her b-link in the scanner. Doris did the same in the dispenser next to her and the machines came to life.

The gruel unceremoniously came out of a dispenser. It landed in their plates with a sound somewhere between a thunk and a splash. It reflected the gruel’s viscous state. She couldn’t help the expression of disgust that settled on her face. As she walked away from the dispenser, Chris watched it continue to move ever-so-slightly with the movement of her steps. She headed toward an empty table in the back; it was closest to the exit and the guards and thus not a very favorable location for most. Doris continued to follow along. The older woman hummed an unfamiliar tune. Even not knowing the song, Chris knew Doris was completely tone-deaf but she wasn’t about to bring it up.

Without exchanging another word, they sat down across from each other and began eating. Other women joined them, sitting further down the table. Some of Doris’ friends were amongst them They cackled and recounted stories of their day in Era. It seemed to be the main conversational topic of the day, the only conversation topic, actually. The noise level in the cafeteria grew and grew with every convict that came back from Era. Soon, the cafeteria was abuzz with conversation and Chris couldn’t even hear was being said at the end of her own table. Seeing the old women talking about Era made her realize how even they were players, or perhaps grinders. And there she was, not even sure she’d be able to escape her dud fate. Her fingers clenched around her spork. Sitting in the cafeteria was a time sink, an inconvenience. She wanted to get back to her room, to check her rank, see how her chances had improved. See the progress and how long the road ahead of her still was.

Physical fitness obviously didn’t have anything to do with the success rate in Era. All of the women at her table looked frail enough to be blown away by the wind, if they had any so far down from the surface. She couldn’t help the impatience from spreading to her spork. Although she couldn’t hear much in the cacophony of the room, she eventually became aware of the rapid tapping noise coming from the spork hitting her grueled plate. When she realized, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She needed to remember the here and now; they wouldn’t let her leave until she finished her ‘food’, so she might as well get to it and make the best of it.

Chris looked up to see Doris watching her with an amused expression. Chris’ spine stiffened; she’d almost forgotten about the other woman, but forced herself to maintain eye contact. Having instinctively looked at Doris, Chris knew that if she looked away immediately, she would, at best, look weak; at worst, like she had something to hide. Chris didn’t know why she felt the urge to prove herself to the woman, but she did. Something told her not to underestimate Doris. Their conversation from the day before was still fresh in her mind and she knew beyond a doubt that there was more to the woman than met the eye.

From the outside, she looked positively deranged. The scar, the sharpened teeth, even the streak of whitened hair at her temple, made her seem… other, foreign; and not in a good way. It encouraged distance-keeping on all fronts. The fact that her eyes could read you in an instant was another reason to keep a distance. And yet, the woman was always surrounded by a gaggle of convicts.

The way the other women had flocked to the unwanted table after she sat down just highlighted how important she was in Goldilock’s hierarchy. Chris’ eyes widened momentarily as she considered a thought. Suerte’s files hadn’t shown a single picture of her, but it didn’t rule out the possibility of her being associated with the big three. As far as the files showed, there were three women who basically ran the prison. She’d memorized the faces of two of them; thankfully, she hadn’t run into them yet. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a picture of the third one. In fact, there was nothing, not even a name. She eyed Doris skeptically, mulling over the thought. Could it be that she was looking at the missing picture?

Chris glanced down the table where the flock of women had gathered. Going solely by the numbers, it was quite possible. Chris darted glances at the other tables, trying to gauge their attitude towards her own. There was definite interest aimed their way; unfortunately Chris couldn’t tell who the curious glances were aimed at. Her, the new convict, or Doris. Annoyed at the lack of answers, she slumped and shoveled a load of gruel into her mouth.

She was ‘chewing’ - if you could call processing gruel before swallowing that - when someone unceremoniously dumped herself into the seat next to her. Before she could even look over, the girl had already started speaking, eliminating the need for facial recognition.

“Hey there, friend,” she said boisterously, completely breaking the tense atmosphere that had been surrounding Chris since the moment Doris walked up to her. The girl, oblivious to her effect on the environment, continued, “What’s poppin’? Didn’t see you around this morning. I was actually just wondering how I was gonna find you in this hellhole and then BAM!” she smacked the table with two clenched fists, rattling all the dishes on it. “There you were! Right in front of me.”

Yaz’s exuberant smile was proof she didn’t even notice the disgruntled faces along the table. She shoveled a couple sporkfuls of gruel into her face, giving Chris time to realize how the situation had just changed. Her eyes darted between Doris and Yaz and she wondered how she could have a conversation with two people who thought she was two completely different people.

Doris’ face was one of pure bliss. The woman had obviously picked up on her discomfort and was using it against her. She slowly and patiently ate her meal without so much as batting a lash at the taste, smell or consistency.

“Errrghh!” Yaz screeched. “No matter what I do, fast, slow, this thing tastes revolting. I thought if I just shoveled it in there, ya know? Like the slop it is, it would go down smoother….” She jabbed her fork at the insulting gruel. “NOT the case!”

Her face scrunched in disgust, but Chris’ attention was focused on Doris, who had an impish smile on her face. At least, the left side was impish, the right… she chose not to dwell on it.

“URGH!” Yaz shrieked.

Chris was ready for another food complaint, but instead the girl said, “What the HELL happened to your face!?”

The mood of the whole table changed the moment the words were uttered. The tension it inspired in Chris was nothing compared to the reaction the words solicited from the women down the table. Not one of them turned their way; they didn’t have to. Unfortunately, it looked like Yaz had zero perception when it came to her environment. Part of Chris went back to the previous day and she wondered if anyone but Yaz would have believed her whole spiel of being a mastermind in the game. Going by the current situation, the girl was completely oblivious to everything but herself.

The other part wanted to strangle her when she decided to open her mouth again. Chris almost choked on the portion of gruel she had just swallowed.

“It looks like someone decided your smile wasn’t wide enough and took scissors to it,” Yaz said, completely ruining any chances of fixing the situation.

Doris’ smile changed to one far more sinister. It took advantage of the mangled side of her face, making it look like she enjoyed eating little children for breakfast. Chris again, almost choked on the same portion of gruel as it worked its way up.

Seeing Doris open her mouth and ready herself to say something, Chris forced the gruel down her throat, eyes tearing with the effort, composed herself and spluttered before the woman could speak.

“So, erm…” Chris coughed, gruel still lodged in her throat. “What do you… I mean what’s it…. What’s the difference between a dud and a player?” Chris asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Yaz.

The girl obviously had absolutely no situational awareness. She needed to keep control of the conversation if she didn’t want Yaz to slip up again. Then again there was also the fact that her inexperience was a fact Doris was all too aware of. She couldn’t let that come up either, it would spoil all of her plans concerning Yaz.

After Chris’s sudden outburst, Doris closed her mouth and remained quiet, but her eyes conveyed the message well enough.

“What are you playing at, Dearie?”

Her scarred mouth twitched slightly, but the drilling look subsided, giving way to one of joyful reminiscence. But it was clear that Chris’ forceful intervention of the conversation had not gone unnoticed.

“The number of capsules are limited,” Doris explained without a hint of what had just transpired betweent them. “Whoever plays best gets priorities on capsule use… those are the players.”

Chris nodded to show her understanding, but mostly urging the conversation onward and away from Yaz’s stupid comments. Basically away from Yaz in general. The longer her conversation with Doris continued uninterrupted, the smaller the chance of Yaz steering the conversation towards herself, Era, Doris… anything really.

“The grinders are those who fill the spots left over by the players, and duds… well, they play the two government required hours.”

There was a finality to Doris’ tone that meant she was done with the subject they both knew Chris had used as filler until she could come up with something better to talk about. She opened her mouth, still in the process of thinking of a new direction to head the conversation in when Yaz cut in. Chris cringed, knowing she had taken too long but she knew that it was too late to cut in now without making her intentions too obvious.

“So…” Yaz began between sporks of gruel. “What’s the deal with your little gang here?” She motioned at the women down the table with her sport. Some of it splashed off as she waved it around; she didn’t seem to notice as she continued her very unwanted line of questioning. “I mean I’ve watched enough TV drama to know there’s like a… queen bee or something…. Right? You it?”

Doris smiled indulgently, like she was talking to a toddler.

“Well, I don’t know, my little hellion. What do you think?”

Chris wanted to clamp a hand over the girl’s mouth. Somehow, ever since the girl had sat down next to her, Chris felt like Yaz’s actions reflected on herself, a reflection that was not looking too good at the moment, especially in Doris’ eyes. As usual, the older woman’s expression gave nothing away but Chris imagined she was not very impressed with the girl. Chris knew she wasn’t.

Yaz looked up and down the table and back at Doris. She took her time to answer, something Chris was surprised the girl was even capable of. Yaz had another mouthful of gruel before answering.

“Well. Going by the way they…” she pointed her yet-again dirty spork in the womens’ direction, “defer to you, you’re definitely of… some importance. Question is, how important?”

Chris was stunned. She shoveled a sporkful of gruel into her mouth to stop it from showing. For once, she had mixed feelings about the girl’s words. On one hand, she couldn’t believe how Yaz had asked the same question she’d been wondering about since she met the woman. On the other, she was terrified just thinking about how Doris would take it. The woman was obviously a big deal and Yaz’s question was pretty much putting the extent of the woman’s authority into question. It made Chris realize how she already presumed Doris to be the missing leader in the prison’s hierarchy.

“Well,” Doris began, neatly setting her spork down on her plate. It was an obvious jab at Yaz’s errant spork, but going by the way the girl continued to shovel the gruel down her throat, it didn’t look like she noticed.

Doris clasped her fingers in front of her and continued, “I’m not ‘Queen Bee’, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Yaz’s eyes darted between Doris and the rest of the table.

“Hmmm…” she said, swallowing her food. “Even so… you’re no ‘dud’. And for you to have this much, if any, pull in here… it means you’ve got to have at last some measure of skill in Era.” Yaz’s eyes moved over Doris, like those of a horse trader. “Interesting. I never thought old people would be any good at video games.” The girl shrugged and got back to her food.

Chris ate her own in silence, trying to pretend the girl hadn’t just said what she did.

Doris merely laughed. Yaz looked up in surprise as Doris got back to her food.

“Whoever told you Era was a game is an idiot,” Doris waved her spork around, splattering some gruel onto Yaz’s nearly-empty plate. “And you… well, you’re even more so for believing it.” Doris smiled benignly before resuming her meal.

The current in the air changed from hot to cold in less than an instant. One moment Doris was picking up her spork, the other it felt like any word could set off a bomb. Surprisingly, she couldn’t tell if the change had originated from Doris or Yaz, but the moment Yaz opened her mouth to retaliate, Doris cut her off.

“If you know what’s best for you… girl, keep that mouth of yours shut,” Doris continued, her spork bringing gruel to her mouth in regular movements, as if her tone hadn’t changed to one of lecturing reproach. “As entertaining as it was for that one hot minute… it’s time you get in line. You may stay until you finish your meal but I do not want to see you before me before you learn some manners.”

Yaz opened her mouth to reply, but Doris once more cut her off.

“I expect utter silence from you,” she said between mouthfuls. “Children are to be seen, not heard.”

Chris felt like shrinking into her chair. She knew the words hadn’t been directed at her, but seeing as Yaz had come to the table because of her, she felt somewhat responsible. Chris imagined she could feel the heat of Yaz’s anger on her left. She was expecting an outburst at any minute, but as the “companionable” silence grew, she was surprised to find that Yaz did not break it.