Overmind Industries has never used animal testing. The incident at the slaughterhouse was not a test. That cow was a legitimate client.

Overmind Memo 29

Wednesday - Ty - Apartment 9

Wake up. Wash my face. There’s new toothbrush in the wee toothbrush rack. Hmm. I was expecting my new roommate yesterday, but he never showed up. I guess he must have got here after I fell asleep.

I creep down the hall to Storm’s old bedroom. Peek in. Nobody. I ghost around the rest of the apartment. Still nobody. Huh.

A closer inspection of the apartment reveals a new book and a small plant in Storm’s room. On the Road and what I believe is an African Violet.

So. Not a lot to go on. My new roommate travels light. Has quiet feet. Is an early riser. Presumably. It’s also possible that I’m the victim of a very subtle home invasion.

I rub my face. I’m unemployed. Is it too early to start drinking?

Ultra appears. “Hello Tiger. Ready to test co-op mode?”

I scowl. Nod. “Let’s do this.”

20 minutes later, I’m walking to the grocery store. Ultra is ambling beside me talking about my weight.

“You’re only a bit fat.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve creeped your Facebook account. You were quite fat at one point.” she says. “And before that you were pretty cute.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s getting to be a long time ago. 12 years? 15? How long has it been since you were fit?”

“Fuck off.”

“Good point. Let’s not dwell on the past. We’ll get you all shaped up. What diets have you tried?”

I grumble. I don’t want to talk about it.

“Was it the Paleo diet? That sounded like caveman talk.”

“Arrg!” I burst. “Does it matter which ones I tried? I failed at all of them.”

“Of course you failed.” scoffs Ultra. “They’re placebos.”

I laugh. “I know they’re scams. I’m just vain and stupid enough to try them anyway.”

“You’re not vain or stupid. You want to feel good and look good. That’s normal and healthy. And popular diets aren’t scams, they’re placebos. They work, just not very often.

“The only reliable way to lose weight is to permanently change your eating habits. All pop diets change your eating habits. And sometimes that change becomes permanent because for each diet there’s a small percentage of people that kinda like it.

“We need to find a lifestyle change that you kinda like. You’ve done this before. You’re at least 20 pounds lighter than you were 7 years ago. Think back. What did you change?”

I think. “I stopped ordering pizza every time I got high.”

“That would do it.” says Ultra. “Not as repeatable as I was hoping for. We’ll have to try a few things and see what sticks.”

We walk in silence for a bit.

“Did you get me fired so I wouldn’t have enough money to stay fat?” I ask.

“No. But I’m willing to go there if that’s what it takes.”

We’re at the grocery store.

Ultra flitters down the aisles, pointing things out for me. I frown, load them into my cart. This isn’t my usual food. It’s like the food my mom used to buy. I have a bad feeling about this. I’m not the cook my mom was.

We get to the back corner of the store. Ultra points to a door. “Go in there.”

I look at the door. “It says Employees Only.”

She sighs. Walks through the door.

I shrug. Fuck it. Let’s see what the employees are doing.

She leads me through a twisty aisle crowded with overstock. We pass the dairy, the butcher, the bakery. Stop at the produce department, enter the cooler. It’s full of boxes of fruit and two girls. I’m not sure how old they are - probably a couple years older than my daughter. Maybe more. I’m not good at guessing ages.

They’re wearing store uniforms, but still have the kinda hippy, kinda skater look that screams pothead. Also, they’re smoking pot. One of them passes me a joint. “S’up. I’m Brooke.” She points to the other girl. “That’s also Brooke.”

Also Brooke smokes, nods at me.

I smoke, nod. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ty.”

Brooke smiles, points to a bag of weed. “Please roll us a joint.”

Fair enough. I roll one. Brooke lights it, smokes. Passes it to Also Brooke. They look at each other. Nod. “Good roll.” says Also Brooke.

“Thanks.”

“Have you ever worked in a produce department before?” asks Brooke.

“Uh, yes actually. Like, 25 years ago.”

“Okay.” says Brooke. “Think you still got it?”

“Is it still taking fruit out of boxes and putting it on shelves?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then ya, I think I’ve still got it.”

“Alright.” declares Brooke. “You can start tomorrow. The wage is non-negotiable. Sorry, it’s set by corporate. But you can negotiate what music gets played in the back room.”

“Except that’s non-negotiable as well.” states Also Brooke. “We only listen to Mongolian Folk Metal.”

I smoke. Nod. “I’m confused. Is this a job interview?”

The Brookes laugh. “You’re hilarious. That’s great. Humor is an important coping strategy for confined populations. Also, we could really use a wilder elf. Our forest game is weak.”

I nod. I have no idea what’s going on.

“They are talking about Exterminate.” says Ultra. “It’s a game. Kind of like paintball, but more so. The grocery store has a team, but they suck in wooded terrain.”

“Yeah.” Brooke agrees. “We’re hoping you can help there.”

Okay, I kind of know what’s going on. Apparently I just got a job stocking shelves and joined a paintball league. I’m a little hazy on why I would want to do either. Also, I’m really high. These girls seem nice and their weed is top notch. How did Brooke hear Ultra?

“How did you hear my symbiont?” I ask.

“You have your privacy set to shared experience.” She shrugs. “So do we.”

“You guys have symbionts?” I ask. “Can I see them?”

“Sure.” says Ultra.

The cooler flickers and two old hairy guys in sparkly robes appear. They are also smoking. One of them smiles. Waves. “S’up. I’m Awesome.” He points to the other wizard. “That’s Awful.”

I introduce myself and Ultra. We smoke and chat until someone comes in with an urgent question about bananas. I slip out in the confusion, but not before agreeing to a shift and a game tomorrow. I’m not sure if I’m lying or not. I feel like I’m committed to either joining these girls or permanently switching grocery stores.

I finish shopping, get out to the parking lot with a fuckload of weird groceries. Dang. “A car would be handy right now.”

“You’re too high to drive.” Ultra points out.

An old car pulls up. It’s fancy old, not shitty old. An old guy gets out. He’s fancy too. Pops the trunk. “Load up.” he barks. “We’re burning daylight.”

I fire the groceries in the trunk. Hop in the passenger seat. There’s a Tiefling in the back. Ultra hops in next to him.

“I’m Martin.”

“Ty.”

Martin nods. Peels out.

We get to my apartment building in no time. Martin pops the trunk. I grab the groceries. Ultra points to two bags. “Leave them.”

“Why?”

“They’re Martin’s. We just picked them up for him.”

“Oh.” Those bags have the best food in them. Have I just given $60 in meat, cheese, and sundries for a $5 cab ride? I shake my head. Whatever. I want to get back to my apartment. Once I’m there, I can start fixing the clusterfuck my life has become.

I lug the rest of the groceries up a couple flights of stairs. Before we get to my place, Ultra stops and knocks on the door of apartment 10.

A little old lady opens the door. Waves me in. “Just put them on the counter.”

“What?”

“Put the groceries on the counter.” says Ultra.

I walk in. Put the groceries on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks, squire.” says the little old lady. “Don’t let me keep you.”

I stand awkwardly for a few minutes watching her steal my groceries in slow motion. Then I leave.

Back out in the hall, I turn to Ultra. “So, none of those groceries were mine? What am I going to eat?”

The door to apartment 11 opens. A well dressed couple smiles at me. He hands me a bottle of Tsingtao.

“Welcome.” she smiles. “We’re hosting dinner, drinks, and a debate. Stir fry, beers from Asia, and could Paul Atreides beat Doctor Who in a fight? Could we trouble you to join us? We’re short a debater.”

“Hmm. I’m very interested, but I have strong opinions about the subject matter. I’m worried I may get unruly.”

“Strong opinions are welcome.” declares the well dressed man. “Let’s get loser drunk.”

The stir fry is excellent. The beer is great. The debate sublime. I stumble out several hours later having made 5 new friends.

“No, you’re the greatest!” I yell, then crash into my apartment. Oh shit, I forgot I have a roommate. I slip into drunken stealth mode.

After a few stumbles around the apartment, I call it. There’s no one here but me. I’ve missed my new roommate again. But he's been here. I find a 3D printer chugging away in the dining room. It’s making 2’ long tubes with interior spiral grooves.

It’s hard to imagine them as anything but rifle barrels.

God damn.