Willing away the tears that were threatening to spill over, James bit her lip hard, trying not to scream. She had worked so hard to make her disability work with her, she had even given up on her dream of being a doctor. At this point she was even fine with it, she had to be to try and stay motivated for everything else. This, somehow, was a much more bitter pill to swallow. This could only constitute as a full-on mental break down. She had seen people like that in mental hospitals, the one or two times her teachers got so frightened of her panic attacks she had gotten sent over. They had no life in their eyes, a dull façade to an existence so full of drugs they couldn’t think. At least when she was by herself, she could truly think. It seems like even that was taken away from her.

Of course, she knew schizophrenia could be managed in some cases with medication and regular therapy sessions. But she knew it with the same intellectual capacity she knew her own severe social anxiety could be managed. Because while you could say she had managed her disorder, it was strictly through avoidance. Avoidance that dictated much of her life. So yes, James knew schizophrenia could be dealt with. But she felt she had already lost her own battle with social anxiety too long ago: how would this be any different?

As she was trying to come to terms with this new revelation, this new axis her life was going to spin on, the text continued to move. She paid it no mind, maybe if she learned to ignore it, she could live with it. She knew it was lie, but she kept the mantra in her head.

You are a part of the fifth tutorial on your planet!

Your status page will be evaluated now --- PROCESSING ---

She had truly done too much programming if this was what her subconscious was choosing to show her. It wasn’t the worst thing; she heard some people saw monsters or even recurring visions of their own death. She could maybe even continue programming with this. Besides, now she knew what she’d be like on hallucinogens? For a second a flash of hope dashed through her, maybe her tea was spiked? With the same speed the thought arrived, though, it went away. She was constantly in her apartment, alone. Nobody had a chance to spike her tea of all things.

Name

James Crossley

Race

Human

--- other pathways detected ---

Perception

22

Mana

180

Wisdom

9

Mana regen

13/minute

Intelligence

9

Stamina

60

Endurance

6

Stamina regen

9/minute

Strength

3

Health

120

Vitality

6

Health regen

42/day

Willpower

6

Agility

8

With an average of around 8.5, her own self-assigned stats felt ridiculously overblown, especially perception being at 22. Without that, her overall average dropped to just below 7, which still felt high, assuming that a 5 was an average human of her age and gender. But what could she expect of her own subconscious? To be realistic? That wasn’t a hallmark characteristic of a subconscious as far as she knew. At least all it did was overblow her own importance and print lines of blue code. It could be worse. Even if she really didn’t want to think about what worse would entail.

Taking another deep breath, it couldn’t hurt at this point, could it? She ignored the continued pressure in her head and opened her eyes.

Her computer was still trying to log on, but had finally given up, saying that there was no internet. Sighing to herself (and feeling just a little bit thankful for the small, mundane problem) she turned off her computer’s Wi-Fi and turned it back on again, reloading the page. All the while, the screen initiated inside her own brain seemed to shrink back to that blue dot at the top right corner of her vision. Again, the Wi-Fi wouldn’t connect so James checked her tablet, that didn’t have internet either.

Going to restart her internet router, and refusing to think of anything else, James patiently waited it out, watching the colors flicker in their odd sequence. When that didn’t work, she tried to look up possible reasons on her phone, after all that just required cellular coverage. But that also turned up the same error message she had become used to over the past five or so minutes.

Thoroughly freaked out, James decided to get quickly dressed and see if she could catch perhaps the only person she willingly interacted with. Except maybe the cashier. And even then, she preferred delivery, keeping the quarantine policy of no contact.

Quickly grabbing some leggings and a new tank top she hadn’t slept in; James slipped on her millennial pink crocs (they always cracked her up- just imagining Kylie Jenner walking around in them was enough for a giggle even now?!) and went down the hall.

Knocking on the door, she waited for Prof to appear in front of her. She knew exactly what she would see, too, if you ignored the new blue dot persistently remaining at the edge of her vision. He would come out, clad in a Hawaiian shirt, old jeans, and colorful shoes. His bald head would have a waxed property and would offset his strong mustache which definitely was waxed. Hearing him shuffling at the door she took a small step back; he had some hearing problems and would always talk a touch too loudly even when his hearing aid was in.

“I tell you, James, I had the weirdest morning. What can I help you with?” He said by way of greeting, somehow accepting that they hadn’t talked in weeks, but she had come to him now, at nine in the morning.

“Me too, I’m trying to log into my classes, but the internet seems to be completely down. Could you try to and see if that’s the case with you?” She was glad he was still home; she wasn’t sure what his schedule was. He taught US history at the community college down the road. Really, he was a retired professor, but he got tired of retirement. So now he basically did whatever he wanted, and the community college let him do that. James herself had taken a couple of classes there, it was a good way of saving money on classes that were accredited by her own college and save time over the summer. She still wanted to graduate after five years after all.

“Huh, let me see.” He shuffled back into the apartment, revealing stacked bookshelves adorned with thick books and his prized Revolutionary War musket. Coming back a minute later he shrugged at her. “I got nothing. You don’t think it’s connected to any system notifications we got this morning?” She froze and stared at him. “I thought so, how about you come inside, and we can compare notes?”