For the past two weeks Corn had a routine. The Stat Temple was open for fifteen hours each day and he would spend each minute of that time solving the puzzle. For him, the day began when the Stat Temple opened and ended when it closed.

The problem was the test. Without a Stat, he would get no useful job. For those without Stats, the best jobs involved hours of boring, break backing labor. Hours of labour that were wasted not doing the test.

He scrambled the cube. He solved the first face in minutes, twisting and shifting the smaller cubes with ease. Then he tried solving an adjacent face without messing the arrangement of the first one. Hah! He succeeded this time. But once he moved to the third one, he struggled.

The attendant called out to him, “Corn, you bull head, it is five minutes past the closing time the Priestess is calling you.”

Sighing, he stood up from the corner he was crouching in and headed back to the Priestess’ office to drop the cube off. She had a look at his progress and then slid the cube back in the drawer. Rubbing his eyes, he walked out of the Temple. He waved his hand to Gull, one of the night shift guards, who waved back. He walked past the busier streets to find his usual alley.

He looked up to see the Great Titan shine bright as ever: an unmoving, huge, pale yellow disc in the sky. Only the Ever star seemed to move and he never could tell time using it. It was easier to pop into the Temple to see if it was open, that was when the day began anyway. Or simply use a clock.

He learned that, despite affecting seasons and the weather, most people never measured time by looking at the Great Titan or the Ever Star. All time was Standard. One day was still twenty four hours. The same as in the previous plane he lived in and was the same in all the Twelve Planes.

The alleyway stank and was, therefore, largely empty. He hopped over stuffed plastic bags and sat down in a corner filled with blankets and dry cardboard. A rat scurried nearby and he tried grabbing its tail only for it to slip through his hands. He swore. He was getting slower. Ever since he received his life counters, he had gotten weaker. Whether it was because he no longer had the seal of infantile immortality or if it was because he was middle aged now, he had no idea.

Regardless, he could no longer go without food or sleep for days on end. If he didn’t sleep at least a few hours in a week, he would literally fall down in fatigue. He yawned. He knew he had to go somewhere but lying down for a while couldn’t hurt.

It started with a few murmurs but grew into screams and shouts. Corn struggled to wake up. He heard a gunshot and a woman scream. He checked the clock next to the plastic bags. No, it wasn’t time yet. So he lifted the blankets to cover his face. Someone was fighting. Someone was always fighting but it was best not to interfere.

He woke up again at the sound of cries for help. He turned around and went back to sleep. The third time he was disturbed he heard guns firing.

“Give it back. Those freedom counters aren’t yours.”

Corn jerked awake. Freedom counters? Repositioning his blankets and grabbing his trusty clock, he tiptoed towards the noise. Two dwarfs were surrounded by a gang of hobgoblins. The familiar golden glow of freedom counters came from two directions. One was in the hands of a male dwarf and the other held by a green skinned hobgoblin who was twirling it in the air.

The female dwarf kept waving the golden badge at the gang, “When the Guard comes-“

“They’re never going to catch us, hon,” laughed the leader, baring his razor sharp teeth at her. “Go on, get the other one,” he ordered his lackeys.

Two of them rushed at the dwarf, but he hugged the freedom counter and curled into a ball. They tried prying away his arms but he wouldn’t budge. One of them unsheathed a dagger. Before he could stab the dwarf, Corn threw a glass bottle on his head.

“Whoever’s there don’t interfere, this in none of your business,” shouted the gang leader.

There was no reply.

The gang leader looked at a thinner hobgoblin next to him and nodded. Immediately the thinner one sped from the end of the alleyway to the dumping ground in seconds. He stopped next to the plastic bags with just as little effort. Crap! The hobgoblin was a Speed user. Corn jumped into the spread of plastic bags.

The hobgoblin growled, “You think changing the terrain is going to stop me.” He hopped nimbly from bag to bag as fast as wind and then jumped onto a ledge on the wall. He stood there scanning the plastic bags for the intruder.

Realising that Corn was stalling for time, the leader motioned for his followers to continue. They unsheathed their daggers and this time Corn flicked two bottles at them. Forewarned this time, their leader caught both of them deftly and flicked the two bottles back at Corn with ease.

The hobgoblin on the ledge leapt to where the bottles came from and started rooting through the plastic bags with a grimace. Something light fell on his back with a thud. He pulled its edges to find an embroidered wool blanket.

“You thought you could capture me with a blanket,” he growled.

But Corn leapt from nearby screaming, “Bomb!” He ran away from his pursuer and towards the gang.

The hobgoblin heard a ticking sound from an object attached to his back. He panicked. He tried removing the blanket but it was slathered with a foul smelling, sticky goo and was stuck to him.

The hobgoblins facing Corn drew their guns. The thin hobgoblin tried to speed and tackle Corn. He missed. He slipped on the blanket and pummeled head first into his own gang members.

“No. No, you moron. Go die somewhere else. Don’t get us killed too.”

Corn slipped into the chaos and punched the gang leader in the nose. He sprained his wrist. Livid, the gang leader punched him back, sending him flying into the wall.

The bomb emitted a thunderous roar. Everyone scrambled away. The leader dove head first into the ground, clutching the freedom counter in his hand.

Nothing happened.

They all held their breath, waiting. The bomb was still screaming.

“Hey, that’s an alarm clock,” shouted one of them.

They all stood up, sheepish. They stared right at Corn.

“Whoops,” he muttered with a silly smile.

Two of them cocked their guns and held it at him.

A blue, semicircular barrier flickered into existence right in front of Corn. The female dwarf shrilled loudly, “The red leather jacket, he has my freedom counter.” Simultaneously, every single hobgoblin fled in different directions; some jumping over ledges and others speeding on roof tops. The moment the thin one tried, he slipped on the blanket and fell over. A barrier materialized over him as well.

He screamed in rage. Drawing his gun, he fired it at the barrier. A web of cracks appeared. Shooting again at the same spot, he cracked the barrier open. He emerged triumphantly, sneering at Corn.

A glowing blue dagger pierced his hand. He screamed in pain. His gun clattered on the pavement as he moaned and held his hand to staunch the bleeding. Another cubic barrier materialized over him, separating him from the gun. He was stuck. This time Corn sneered back at him.

The two of them waited for a few minutes until someone appeared from one end of the alleyway. He wore a dark blue overcoat over a dark blue uniform with black leather boots and a peaked cap. A Guard. He picked up the gun from the ground. The hobgoblin spat in his direction but it simply hit the barrier. The officer walked over.

“Don’t be so insulted. Poaching freedom counters isn’t as simple as poaching for life and race counters. If my colleague fails to get the counter your gang members’ stole, the consequences will be very, very severe,” he murmured. He tapped the barrier pointing at the hobgoblin, “Your life may as well be forfeit.”

A line of blue steps materialized from the roof top to the ground next to the dwarves, and a woman ran down. Except for her bleeding nose and a pair of reading glasses, she wore the same uniform as her colleague. She dipped her hands into her coat pockets and handed a glowing, golden counter to the girl.

The young dwarf was exuberant, with tears in her eyes she said, “Thank you, so much. If I had lost one, I can’t even imagine …. being a slave … would…” She burst into tears.

“No, we should be the ones apologizing. Your security team should have been a lot tighter than the one we had today. If it wasn’t for the election cycle and the orders we received, those hobgoblins wouldn’t have been able to reach anywhere near you,” sighed the officer.

The male dwarf sat up, holding his bleeding arm and scowled at the two officers. He limped to his daughter and pushed the freedom counter he was holding into her hands. Glancing towards Corn, he nodded, “Thank you. If it weren’t for you my daughter would be sold as a slave. Tell me how can I repay the favor? What can I do for you?”

Corn shrugged his shoulders. The female dwarf, likewise, conveyed her thanks, rubbing the tears out of her face. She dipped into her pockets and handed a jagged piece of black glass to him. Corn scrunched his face in confusion.

“It’s a piece of my Screen. For luck,” she said.

“Thank you, CornWall. If you hadn’t intervened the consequences would have been disastrous. You know what, since you haven’t completed your fish badge how about I just issue it for you. As a way of showing our gratitude,” announced the officer.

Turning to her partner, she said, “Remove the barrier. Let him out.”

“Hold it, ‘detective’. Before all of you trip yourselves to kiss his ass and thank him. Consider this, he could just as well be from a rival gang. I say he’s a thief, no better than this pointy nosed bastard, and we take him to the station to book him,” snorted the other officer.

“How dare you! Can’t even do your jobs properly and when someone else does if for once, you call him the villain. You two- faced, scum of- ”

“Dad, dad. Stop it,” cried the female dwarf tugging at her father’s leather jacket.

“Silence, both of you,” shouted the female officer. “He’s obviously innocent.”

“Oh, and how would you know that?”

She pointed at her glasses, “Hello. I can see his status. Just two weeks ago, he was a base slave. There is no greater certificate of innocence than that.”

All of them stared at him in surprise for a few seconds before the officer scowled. “Let’s go,” he answered sullenly. The barrier across Corn dematerialized while the one holding the hobgoblin moved along with the officer, forcing the hobgoblin to walk along.

The dwarf’s daughter made a make shift bandage to staunch her father’s bleeding, while he grumbled, and helped her father to follow. He nodded to Corn.

The female officer was the last to leave. She stared at him silently, cocking her head in thought. She too walked off.

Corn sighed and looked at his bracelet. Nowadays crushing the bug on and off was as easy as blinking to him. He felt a strong impulse to just tear the thing off, but it was practically indestructible. He headed back to his old spot, annoyed at having lost both his blanket and clock. He tried to go back to sleep but failed. Instead, he stared at the Great Titan. The ‘Titan’s Eye’, a darkish brown patch, stared right back at him. He shivered.

“CornWall. Oi. CornWall,” a male voice shouted.

‘The dwarf actually come back?’ wondered Corn. “Over here,” he called out.

Both of them reached his cardboard shelter, looking very relieved.

“You live here?” asked the girl. Corn shrugged.

“Look, I was serious about returning the favor. We might not have a lot to give, but if you’re living on the streets, just join our community,” said her father.

“Uh,” murmured Corn, unsure.

“I insist. Without your help those scum would have sold my daughter to slavery,” he spat at the word scum.

“The woman wasn’t so bad, she got my freedom counter back.”

“Bah. They’re all the same, I tell you. If they hadn’t left during our escort, would those hobgoblins try poaching us? They’re in it together. They rip off our counters promising support and protection and just when we need them they’re nowhere to be seen. The entire city is rotten through and through.”

“They did say something about elections, right?” ventured Corn.

“Elections?” sighed the dwarf. “There’s always something: Player quests, tournaments, guild wars, some huge Event. They would never have stooped so low in my day.”

The dwarf stood there scratching his balding head, awkward at his sudden, angry tirade.

“Come on then, we’re heading back now,” said the female dwarf.

“It’s the least I can do for saving my daughter’s freedom.”