Two days remained till the end of the quest, according to the countdown timer. In today’s world, it might as well have been two hours. I’d have to spend the whole night studying so I could try and get a high score on my college exams, plus I had to put in extra hours at work for yesterday’s stunt. With luck, I might have time to fix Twinkle, but even that was looking less and less likely.

On the positive side, my account balance was doing pretty okay. I was tempted to buy myself something luxurious: natural foods or maybe a premium game. If Twinkle was online, I’d probably see if I could find a compatible animation pack.

“Stupid cat,” I whispered, half hoping he’d respond. Being without my AI companion felt strange, almost as if part of me was gone. I never had the money to own an actual pet, but from I read, it felt similar when one of them passes away. The only advantage was that I knew that Twinkle was coming back, hopefully with most of his memories intact.

I got dressed and glanced at the protein bars on the shelf. It had been a while since I’d last eaten, yet I didn’t feel hungry. The thought of wasting an entire night for nothing bore into me like stomach flu. I grabbed one—to make sure I didn’t faint at work—and put it in my pocket. Employers didn’t like sick employees, and customers were half as tolerant. A sneeze would cost me up to a quarter of my daily earnings; fainting might cost me my job altogether.

“One new message,” the standard voice notification informed me. I glanced at my phone. It was Jeff. Grabbing my disposable weathercap, I ran to work.

Heavy rain greeted me as I stepped outside, filling the air with the smell of chemicals. The local authorities hadn’t issued any safety warnings, as usual, but from what I could see, I was the only pedestrian out at this time. Gritting my teeth, I ran on. My thoughts were focused on Twinkle and the quest. Given my options, my life had become like a scene in a lottery commercial: “ one coin toss away from victory”. All I had to do was ignore my exams for a day and focus on Vesperia. With enough luck, we’d find the fourth hint and that would be enough to complete the quest. The more I thought about it, the more tempting the idea became, yet still fears were stopping me from acting.

When I arrived at work, I was the second one there. An hour remained until the start of the shift, which meant that people would start arriving in twenty minutes or more. Jeff was there, of course, prepping everything for the morning rush.

“Did you sleep here?” I joked, taking my nylon cap off.

“Tried to.” Jeff waved with a tired smile. “Boss came to do a late inventory. We’ll be applying for a service sticker next month.”

Service stickers. They were for shops what stars were for hotels. Getting a sticker was the equivalent of a seal of approval—an indication that this place was better than the hundreds of others that offered the same service. I was old enough to remember when the fad first appeared. Back then, they were nothing more than a manufacturing logo, letting customers know which brands had equipment where. At one point, someone had the bright business idea to combine all the information into a single rating system. The difference from certification was that it was privately issued and not linked to a government agency. In the years that followed, stickers became like ribbons: hundreds of organizations spawned on the web, each with their own methodologies and claims. Since there was no application fee or service tax, businesses couldn’t get enough of them, covering their stores and offices with as many stickers as they could get.

“Great.” I went to get my gear. “Which one?”

“Current gen compliant,” Jeff said. “Two people will have to go through micro training. You want a spot?”

“Sure.” Hesitation was a terrible quality when it came to the service industry. I had no idea what tools I’d be given or what the training would be useful for, but I knew it would come with a pay raise.

“Great!” I could hear the joy in Jeff’s voice. “I’m giving the other spot to Mel. She’s been asking for a bump up for months.”

“That’s nice.” I put on my utility belt and joined Jeff. He was scrolling through his phone, checking the ETA of the others on shift. “Jeff,” I began, “are you still good with AIs?”

“Huh?” He looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Something happened to Twinkle. Probably a glitch, but after what you said yesterday...” I didn’t finish the sentence. “Can you take a look?”

After yesterday, I had no idea how he’d react. Much to my surprise, he smiled.

“Sure.” He put his hand in his back pocket. “Let me see what you’ve messed up.”

“I didn’t mess up anything.” I handed him the phone. “It just happened.”

“Mhm.” He nodded like a parent catching their child redhanded after a mess. “What were you doing when it happened?”

The question I was fearing. I could tell the truth—that I had Twinkle streaming while I was trying to find more hints about the hundred level quest. For the moment, though, I chose to remain silent and watch.

Jeff didn’t seem bothered in the least, accessing my AI companion’s settings as if it were his own. Not a single time did he ask me for my password, or inquire about the associated patches and add-ons I’d made. If he were out to get me, he’d probably have drained my money, all my accounts, maybe even taken my identity to sell to some third world corporation. The ease with which he manipulated the software made him seem rather hot.

“Well, I have some good news and some not good news,” Jeff said as he scrolled through source code on Windows I didn’t know could be accessed. “Apart from some junk sniffers, Twinkle seems clean. Old school factory settings make it difficult to exploit permissions.”

“Thanks.” At least that was a relief. “And the good news?”

“Funny,” Jeff chuckled, ticking my settings on and off faster than I could keep track. “For that same reason, you can’t force him as much as you do.”

“I’m not forcing him.” That was a lie. I had disabled at least two of his safety settings to max out his processing power. “I even buy him upgrades.” When I have the means.

“Half of them are almost incompatible.” Jeff shook his head. “The junk you have makes him slower than if you added nothing. I can add a few mods to fix things if you want.”

“On the level, right?” I asked.

Having any illegal software was a risk. In most of the cases people didn’t care—I was too insignificant to cause any serious losses. Going after me would probably cost ten times as much as any software I’d “steal”. However, since it was Jeff saying it, I had no idea in what I might get myself involved with.

“Level enough for you,” he said. That didn’t I’ll me with confidence. “It’s just optimization middleware. You won’t even know it’s there.”

“Okay.” That was precisely what I was afraid of. “As long as—“

“Hello, Sarah!” Twinkle’s voice greeted me from the phone. “I feel so refreshed! Did you sleep well?”

“Hello, Twinkle.” I forced myself not to smile. “I didn’t sleep much. What’s your status?”

“I’ll need five days to solve the puzzle Sarah,” the AI companion said with a hint of sadness.

“That’s fine.” I took the phone from Jeff’s hand. “Stay in mute for a while.”

A cat icon appeared on the screen, telling me the order was acknowledged.

“So you’re still at it?” Jeff asked. “I’m not judging. I think it’s terribly stupid, but I’m not judging.”

“Mhm.” Now was my turn to not believe him.

“Did you find something at least?”

“Yep.” I went to my work area. “I’m getting there.”

It was obvious Jeff wanted to ask more, but an early customer walked in, depriving him from the opportunity. Technically, we weren’t open yet, but as they well knew, there was no way we’d turn back a client, especially one willing to pay the twenty-percent before-hours surcharge.

I took the client and went on to clean his watch tech. By the time I was done, the regular shift employees had started to arrive, eliminating the chance of conversations until lunch break. As much as I was thankful to Jeff for fixing Twinkle, I didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with him.

The first shift was hell. At times, it felt like the whole town was pouring in, demanding to have their devices checked and cleaned ahead of the end of the world. A few of the others joked it might be related to some new law on the books that would make it illegal for anyone to own a device over five years old. To me that sounded like a nothing story. As anyone remotely involved in gaming—or life in general—knew, you could barely get five year old tech to function in today’s environment. On average, people changed tech every three years, not even counting the constant upgrades. As my father used to say, having a computer was like having a car: it requires constant maintenance and lots of money.

“Want to get something fancy?” Jeff asked when it became time for lunch. “Being a future celebrity and all.”

I darted him a cold glance. “I’m fine,” I whispered.

“Kyle’s on shift,” he said, catching my by surprise. “Twenty percent discount on the good stuff. Want to try it out?”

I thought about it. For the amount of money I had, “good stuff” was an overstatement, but it was a lot better than what I’d usually have. I reached to my pocket. The protein bar remained an option.

“Why not?” I shrugged. “Best take advantage while he lasts.”

“Ouch. Cold, Sarah,” Jeff laughed.

“Maybe a bit.” Food sellers rarely lasted more than three months. “No talk about games, though.” I waved a finger at him.

“Not one game, at least.” He winked.

“Fair enough.” I put away my work gear. “Let’s—“

My phone vibrated. On instinct, I took it out. FlickerFlacker had sent me a message saying that his dark broker had started discussions for buying the fourth clue. My heart jumped into my throat.

“Let’s what?” Jeff asked, making me notice I had paused.

“Let’s go.” I put my phone away. Please get that hint, Flicker. “My treat?”

“Never say no to free food.” Jeff smiled at me. “I’ll get my own dessert, though.”

Kyle was just ending his shift as we got to his shop. That didn’t stop us for getting the discount, but it also meant we couldn’t say no when he offered to tag along during our lunch break. I didn’t have anything against it, even with the looks he was giving me, though I could have done without the constant chatter between him and Jeff. Normally I’d enjoy trash talking and discussing games—gaming was my life and helped pay part of the rent—but it didn’t give me a lot of quiet to think. Six hours ago, I was ready to give up. Now, I had Twinkle again, and a real chance to get the fourth clue by the end of the day. And still, the Sylvan Forest kept bugging me like an irritating skin itch.

“Guys,” I interrupted their conversation. “How do you go about finding secret quests?”

“Secret quests?” Jeff asked, giving me a warning glance.

“Which game?” Kyle leaned towards me.

“No particular game,” I avoided the question. “I’m asking in general. If you know the area where it’s supposed to be in, what do you do?”

“Hmm.” Kyle cracked the finger of his right hand in his chin. “I take it there’s nothing on the net giving info. If you know any pro players playing the game, maybe ask them in a comment. Most of them like to brag a lot.”

“Wow.” I narrowed my eyes. “Next you’ll tell me to buy the info from a dark broker.”

“Hey, it’s an option!” Kyle went all defensive. “It’s cheaper in the long run. Just give them the money and be done with it. You know it’ll end up being in the last place you look anyway.”

“I doubt that’s the point of the question, Kyle.” Jeff whipped his fingers with the free food napkin and crumbled it. “If you had no access to such info what would you do?”

“Pick another game?” Kyle shrugged.

The last place you look... The phrase echoed in my mind. Kyle probably only wanted to appear smart, but he had just given me an idea and after work I intended to test it.