《A Trillion Trillion Years》Chapter 6: Leslies Slave
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I lived in a hovel under the ground. Not literally. But it might as well be literally. I had to hunch my head every time I entered my door. It had only one room, and a bathroom that was tucked away in the corner. My bed laid in the center of the room while my computer was sitting on its side. I had to use my bed as a seat since I couldn’t fit anything else in the room.
While it may seem like a horrible place to live for someone who was expecting guests. I loved everything about it. Nobody bothered me here. I could be away in my own world for months at a time without anybody bothering me.
I clicked and clacked away. Still in a trance. I was still working out a plan.
*ring* *ring*
Ah. I must be hallucinating again. Sometimes the neighbors phone would ring non-stop. So as I hyper focused on todays Abby daily news I would hear the phone ringing, even if it wasn’t. I know. I have to get that checked with a doctor at some point because it isn’t healthy.
*ring* *ring*
Huh? I looked at my phone. Is it ringing? Yes. Wait. Who’s calling me? As far as I know I picked this day specifically to be my Abby day. All my friends know that I can’t be bothered today. Shit.
“Hey Leslie.”
“Get over here, I’m going to message you my address. I need some things moved.”
“But today-“
“Don’t try to slack off, get over here or you won’t just get a yelling from me.”
Only devils make you work when you’re not getting paid. She really is a horrible human being. Maybe she knew that today was my specific day for Abby and, as a horrible human being, choose it to make me suffer the most. Would she even think that much about me?
I put on clothing. I put on enough to get by in society but not welcomed by it. She didn’t pay me to look good.
I arrived at what I thought was good time considering I lived some twenty miles from her. She looked at me with a grimace on her face. Maybe it was the sun. “What took you so long? Come on. I had to move this stuff a week ago and I couldn’t do it because of you.”
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“Huh? How was it because of me?”
“Do you think you just came along with me that entire week without any planning. I invested a lot of my time that I could've used acting and advancing my career helping you learn the ropes! This is the LEAST you can do to repay me. Now come on. Get moving.”
I feel like a slave. Abby would never make me a slave. Or at least she would make me a slave but never put me under hard working conditions. I don’t know.
There was a lot to move out.
Leslie just stood on the side and directed me here and there. Everything had to be packed, and ordered, placed on a specific spot.
“Why don’t you just get the movers to do this?”
“Well unfortunately that would cost me extra money and the reason I’m moving out is that I need to spend less money. So that wouldn’t make sense, now would it?”
“So you’re using me as free labor?”
“I wasn’t thinking about doing that at all! I’m planning on getting you something. How does sushi sound?”
I sighed. I felt like an idiot. “Sushi sounds nice.”
The entire house was packed away before she placed the order. She even took away the table and TV so we had to eat on the floor.
The house was huge. Really, it was very big. I would say that I could shove twenty of my rooms into this house. The floor also had a nice marble finish. Really, it was pretty nice.
The silence was killing me.
“Why are you moving?” I asked with a mouth full of sushi.
“My parents decided to get me a smaller apartment as a punishment. I know. I can’t believe a 27 year old is getting punished by their parents.”
“So” I looked around. “This is all your parents money?”
“Yea. Well, technically its my money, just not yet. Right now they just want me to move down because…well its complicated.”
I wasn’t really interested in what she was talking about so I let the conversation die. The sushi was good. “What do you think people should do when someone they love hurts you?”
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She gave me a look. Something in-between annoyed and curious. “Why do these questions come out at the most random times? Are you really this socially awkward?”
“Well I value your opinion so much…” ah, that smile. One thing I like about Leslie is that you can tell when she is happy.
“I guess…I’m the type of person who doesn’t get hurt in love. But, if someone I loved hurt me, I guess I would..“ She took a bite of a long phallic piece of sushi. ”Cut off their thing and watch them bleed on the floor.”
“What if they didn’t have a…thing. Or even better, what if you couldn’t, in any way, physically hurt them.”
“Well I couldn’t physically hurt them, but I could always mentally hurt them. I mean they probably cheated on me or tried to fuck me over in some way, so I would just try to hurt them with everything they told me. Its not to hard. Maybe I’ll even cry so that they can’t do anything about it. Men tend to freeze up when women cry.”
Its strange how similar we think. “I agree. Except. I don’t think I can cry in front of her… what if they weren’t affected at all by what you say?”
“They would be a psychopath Jake. Nobody is unaffected by stuff like that. Especially when I say it. I mean…look at me.” She gestured to herself. “I’m pretty attractive. Most men fall so deep in love with me they can’t get out.”
I snorted. “I doubt it.”
There was a small pause while she looked at me derisively. “I hope she doesn’t mess you up too much.” She chuckled. “You don’t look like you can handle women very well.”
“I-I am actually very good with women.” I don’t know why I said that, but I felt I had to say it.
“Would a man who was so good with woman ask for advice all the time? I mean 90% of your questions are about love. She’s probably stringing your heart all through the world.”
“Well…”
“That's why I don’t want to get involved with anything like that. Way to complicated. It messes everything up. Its better that its me, myself, and I. No second person to have around dragging you down, or annoying you constantly. I mean the occasional rump…” She looked at me. Her head down, but her eyes up, like a lost puppy. “Is fine.”
“I-I don’t, well, I mean-“
Her eyes brightened and she gave a laugh. “What? Are you that excited when I do that? Its just acting, acting. I would never have sex with you. Ew. You need to be taller, and fitter, and richer, and not working as my assistant.”
If she was a little bit uglier I would be mentally making fun of her right now. But really she could have added ten more things on that list and it would still be a fair trade. That's if I didn’t care about her personality (or didn’t have Abby). “T-trust me. I-I am trying totally in agreement with you.”
She gave a sly smile. “Whatever. You can go, mister free work.” She stood up. “I have to go to my new apartment anyway. Might as well get used to having less space.”
I walked out of the house and to the company van.
When I was on my bed, about to go to sleep, my phone vibrated.
‘Heres my new address: *** ********* ***’
‘Do not forget it and go to my old address! I do not need that headache early in the morning!’
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The First Corridor of Old Works
But what is it, really? Old Works. They say, some do anyway, or would, if they still had tongues - it's a dream. That it's a million year old mystery connecting three planets. Some, yet other, anonymous entities, charge that it's a structure, more accurately, an architecture - a quest, even, made from, and through - corridors. Pretty inarguably, for one thing, it's a maze. Even some pronounce, if you can understand those currently vomiting blood, that it's a corporation, and yet others - the brave ones – and dead - say it's... near death. Or that it is. Death. - Death itself. But that dark thing on the horizon, that thing emerging to replace the only system we... know. - Whatever it is it couldn't be the end, of everything, could it? Eminently possible, but - it couldn't be worse? 3 civilisations/3 planets... and Old Works. 4 heroes: The Cyclops seeing out his Eye the reality of that place - and by means of that vision - greasing the many-toothed gears of that great old churning nightmare. The Writer sweating to keep the story alive that supports the great old lying structure. The Fake King who abides among all those tunnels of dreams and lies and dreams and... slaves. And the Hero Dreamt, all those slaves - to maintain that structure's even functioning, have to - at all... they dream him. They literally dream him. But that thing, from whence, who knows, arriving? What kind of sick demonic mind could even - But it can only be psychosis - Or possession. Reducing all of reality to some kind of – what would you call it? A Game? A video... joke? And that half-Cyclops, that beauty – what does she have growing – beneath her supernatural genitals? A game for him? A game/a dream; a – world? Or just Old Works. And this Wound in reality – that our writer near-died putting inside her. What is it anyway? And what reality does it bring with it. This demon or God. Through the corridors; lattices of smoke and shadows and colours; dungeons; and supernatural organs; the labyrinths made from dreams... and flesh. - What happens when they face that Wound – staring the absolute. right. in. them? - Through - What happens to all us... slaves... then? But at the end of the hallway, you see it there, I say you do, that turning - It's only the First Corridor of Old Works. This finished 104,000 word kind of LITRPGy fantasy novel, the First Corridor of Old Works will be released in daily 2000 word chapters, or equivalent [unfailingly at 20:47 GMT] Immediately followed by the Second Corridor of Old Works [161,000 words, edited, ongoing, as of 24/09/21] At first lite on stats these LITRPGy elements will become increasingly - built meticulously upon what precedes - ubiquitous, as we proceed into a world painstakingly built to support these mechanisms. After - minimum - 6 months, this manic daily release schedule will be somewhat relaxed: 5 days a week. - But don't lie to yourself it's not there. That thing watching at the end of the hallway... and where it leads. It's - Of countless, it could only be - The First Corridor of Old Works.
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