Gamer Guy by Stephen R. Smith

Author:Stephen R. Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: unknown
Published: 2017-06-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Thru the looking glass?…

Which wasn’t the case. “Pod Services Inc. a subsidiary of ‘Blah &Co.’, which was a wholly owned division of ‘Blah, Blah, Inc’, now incorporated into the mega conglomerate of ‘Blah, Blah and Blah International’, was pleased to offer to the player known as Alturan their platinum level support for both his in-game support, and those related external needs that said player cared to make known to them from time to time by request, as well as those directly mandated when implied by player’s actions.”

“Huh?” ‘player’s actions’, ‘external needs’, ‘directly mandated’? I hadn’t gotten the impression that Eileen’s gorgeous smile implied more fully hands-on support, but maybe I wasn’t completely informed of the possibilities on offer, given the temporary mental vagueness one suffered when transitioning out of a pod after a prolonged duration in-game, which I certainly had endured.

There was a number to call, how last millennium, and a website, which very scarily was now the opening screen on my personal, password protected tablet in my apartment. I jumped away from the add-on keyboard I used with tablet like it had burned my fingers when I saw the Pod Services Inc. screen come up. “Holy Shit, … fuck, what’s going on?” Since I certainly was alone in my 400-ft. square foot studio high rise apartment, I was not expecting any kind of response to my outburst. Uncannily, I got one anyway, from the tablet speakers.

“By your response we realize the extension of our services into your personal space has stimulated a degree of negative emotional responses, Alturan. Please let us assure you that your personal welfare is our prime concern, and that we have taken the liberty of providing immediate access to our service with only the best of intentions for your happiness, security, and pleasure, in mind.”

“What? Who…?” I was back to the monosyllabic stuttering questions like the instance of my pod exit. I might have gone catatonic at that point, but there was a knock on my door, which, there being only 400 square feet dedicated to the separation from intrusion that it provided, felt too damn close to my left eardrum. And no, I didn’t know a soul on my floor, or in the building, or on the block, out in the neighborhood, or anywhere in the damn city for that matter. My place was tiny, but in a decent high-rise, in one of the boutiqued out former ghettoish areas where everyone was a new resident and intimidated about talking to strangers on the street, or anywhere, except when making a slightly over priced transaction for coffee, pizza, or packaged noodles with various seasonings provided in the enclosed envelope.

“Alturan, it’s me, Eileen. I brought fresh food. And beer. Or coffee if you want. Can you let me in? Please… I’m here to help?”

Eileen? It was her voice, her so well-modulated tones, suggesting a somewhat recent but very intense new friendship between us, that could only get better if I would just let her indulge her fascination with my interesting personal life.

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