Winfrey

Matthews Manor, Florida

Flopping back onto my old bed, I let go of my phone and stare blankly past the barely familiar ceiling as if distancing my mental perspective will make me feel any better about yelling at my best friend over her bitchy behaviour to Alex. Wonderfully, it does absolutely jack fucking shit. I feel like I kicked a puppy singularity.

Just, millions of puppies occupying the same space simultaneously meeting my slippered foot as it travels at forty miles an hour. Wait no, singularities are something else. Uhh..I dunno, pharmacology is my thing, not quantum physics.

Not going to be the first argument I have today, since Uncle Eric is due to arrive in less than an hour. All the way from his considerably less ostentatious apartment in Silicon Valley.

Looking around at my old room, it's almost depressing to see how little it's changed. Still packed with my old teen-me things, which I barely even recognise as being mine anymore. The only real evidence that I've spent a couple of nights here is my disembowelled suitcase. The rest of my things aren't due to arrive in customs for another day or two.

Still feels weird to be back on this timezone, ugh. Not even 8am and I feel like I should be eating lunch in the staff breakroom right about now. The bed is comfier than my one back in Paris, though, and my back will be eternally grateful for the change.

Briefly, I consider sending a message to someone else to pass the time, or checking in on Alex. I don't really feel up to shooting the shit with my friends after chewing one out though, and Alex will almost certainly be logged into Astral Reckoning right now. Like it's his job. Which I suppose it is after a fashion, or rather, it's going to be if he turns out to be right about this whole thing.

I suppress my cynicism on the subject, reminding myself that I already decided to give the game a chance, and Alex the benefit of the doubt. If I show any hesitation in front of my Uncle, he'll pounce on it and rip my determination apart. Then where will I be?

Back to square one, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Spending the next few years of my life stuck in a pharmacy somewhere most like. I did get the qualifications, after all, not like I'm about to go work in a convenience store in this day and age. Mechanised years ago.

My mind wanders in circles, flitting from point to repeated point until the sound of a car's wheels crushing the gravel on the drive as they roll closer can be faintly heard from the other side of the building through my open balcony door. The abrupt slam of a car door shutting snaps me fully to attention, a quick glance at my shitty plastic bedside clock showing the passage of time more clearly than what I can recall through my erstwhile malaise.

Jutting my arms out, I sit up and spring to my feet phone in hand, jogging to the door and slowing to a more ladylike stroll as I proceed through the hallway and down the staircase of the open reception hall, sparsely decorated with art nouveau knickknacks and modern aesthetic furnishings according to Uncle Eric's tastes.

The door opens, and in walks the man of the house. Average height, short, balding black hair with more grey than black compared to the last time I saw him, and dressed in a tasteless denim jacket, red polo shirt and beige shorts. It's easy to tell it's him because he's the least fashionable person I've ever met, still stuck twenty years in the past.

Though he doesn't smile, his face noticeably brightens at seeing me descend the staircase to greet him, "Winnie, it's been too long. How's it feel to be home?"

It doesn't feel like home at all, is what I'd almost like to say. But he doesn't deserve that so instead I say, "Not used to being back here yet."

"Some days, my apartment back in Cali feels more like home, so I can empathise," Uncle Eric muses, "Still, this old place has memories of its own, doesn't it?"

I shut my eyes for a moment, "Suppose it does."

A flash of an idea crosses his eyes, "Why don't we talk in the kitchen? I've not eaten in hours."

---

 

Sat at the central countertop on a barstool, I rest my arms on the surface while Uncle Eric messily devours a three-egg cheese and scallion omelette, barely swallowing one bite before another is portioned out and headed towards his mouth. Half-way through, his shoulders sag and his pace slows, "Ahh, sustenance for the starving, great is the offering to the god of hunger."

I wince a little at the reference to a poorly translated dystopian film from the mid-nineties. Uncle Eric just laughs a little, "It's a classic. Don't give me that."

"Uncle, Jennifer's Crystal Knife, is a classic. Feed the Moon is memetic garbage," I snort, throwing a cracked walnut in my mouth.

"It's classic memetic garbage, you philistine. I raised you better than that, Winnie, how can you betray your poor Uncle like that?" He purses his lips into a mock-pout, then winks and shoves another chunk of egg down his throat.

I roll my eyes, "Yuh-huh. Sure."

Polishing off the plate's contents, his knife and fork are dropped in the deceased omelette's former resting place with a clatter, "You look like you want to say something."

Grimacing, another walnut goes down my own throat before I answer, "Yeah. I met someone...odd. Before I left Paris, and he offered me a job of sorts."

The playfulness in Uncle Eric's demeanour rapidly drains, replacing him with his more recognisable business persona, "...Do tell."

Drumming my fingers on the table, I do my best to meet his eyes, "You heard of Astral Reckoning, a VRMMORPG by Hectic Works Ideaware?"

After some thought, he nods slowly, "Quite a bit actually. It's rare that a key investor in a company makes such a scene of pulling out of a project. Is the offer from one of Hectic Works' representatives?"

Shaking my head, I struggle to come up with a convincing way of explaining this without making it sound like a scammer trying to get to his money through me. Somehow, I doubt that Alex has any idea about my background, even if his knowledge seems prescient concerning matters related to Astral Reckoning.

"A random guy who came into the internet cafe I was working at one day. Art student I think. Spent most of his savings booking a VR capsule for a few months just to play the game. I was bored, so I asked if he'd show me and a friend around the game on an off day," I decide to be at least factual, if light on the extra details, "Long story short, he's looking to make an in-game organisation and profit off of it. Offered us a place as officers in the Guild, and pay to do it full-time once the Guild gets going."

Uncle Eric stares at me, making me feel like a sweat will break out any second, "It's my understanding that Hectic Works Ideaware is in shambles because their product is faulty and underperforming. Without Illustrious Investments to provide extra funding, the market severely doubts any sort of recovery. And he wants to...make a long-term business off of the game's back?"

"...Yes. I've not signed anything yet, but I am interested," I gulp down a walnut to hide my anxiety.

He tilts his head, "Why?"

"He - Alex - isn't a fool, near as I can tell. Not very personable, but he has reason to believe that a reversal of fortune is due to occur in the next few weeks due to a major Patch to the game," I lick my dry lips surreptitiously, "I wouldn't have believed him, but he knew that investment group would pull out the way it did before it became public, so we agreed to give the game a chance based off his obvious familiarity with the bigger picture and the game itself."

I sway my head side to side, "Eight years ago. Do you remember the day you argued with Juan about whether or not to invest in Megamancy Softworks?"

Uncle Eric squints, "Yes...What about it?"

"Do you remember how absolutely certain he was that you shouldn't do it, despite not being able to explain why he felt that way?"

Nodding, Uncle Eric leans back a bit, "He was right. They were hit by an audit and the feds found millions in defrauded sales shortly after."

I smile, a little pathetically, "Alex is like that. But...all the time. Utterly certain."

A look of understanding forms in Uncle Eric's gaze, "Interesting. So, he has some sort of inside information, does he?"

"Most likely. Enough to turn his conviction on the subject into a state of being," I eat another walnut, "Alex said he's willing to talk to you if you want to. Not a good idea now, since he's probably in-game right about this time, and will be for another seven or eight hours going off his past behaviour."

Uncle Eric nods, "I just might. But that still leaves the question of what you want to ask me to do with this information. He's not asking for a loan is he?"

"No. I guess I am though," I gather up the walnut shells into my hand and toss them into the in-built trash can of the counter, "That is, a chance to see if anything will come out of this or not."

Steepling his fingers, Uncle Eric thinks to himself for a moment, "You want me to support your decision financially, but not this...Alex character, you mean?"

I nod, "Yes. If it doesn't work out, all I'll lose is a few months of my life, but I'm willing to bet that on him."

Shutting his eyes, he drops his head down a little, muffling his voice, "How long before this enterprise shows results?"

"About 6 weeks, to hear him tell it. I'd say it'll be a bit longer before it's able to turn any initial success into long-term growth. At the moment, he's working on raising in-game currency, and from what I've read and heard, he's made a lot of it in the past few days manipulating the local players," I explain, throwing a little speculation and rumour for good measure.

Sucking on his teeth, Uncle Eric raises his head and looks at me steadily. I half-freeze, trying to display my confidence.

After what feels like an eternity, he nods, "Alright. That's not too bad. However, I won't be providing any more than the bare necessities. Regardless of the outcome by then, I will be demanding a comprehensive review and a meeting with this man on the first of March."

Not getting any further response from me, Uncle Eric pushes off the stool and takes his crockery to the dishwasher, "You need your licence renewed, don't you?"

I nod, "The sooner, the better. I also have a couple of contracts I need to sign in-game to make this official - he gave me a copy in advance and there doesn't look to be any problems with it. It's pretty basic, all things considered; A promise to do right by the Guild, and not spread it's secrets, in essence."

"Can I take a look at them?" Uncle Eric asks as he takes a seat again.

Tabbing through my phone, I pull up the files in question and slide it across the marble countertop to him. Gingerly taking the device between his fingertips, he holds it up and leans his head back to look at the words as if through a magnifying glass. It doesn't take him long to go through the sparsely-worded contracts, nodding to himself and glancing out the corner of his eye at me, "Not seeing any traps here. The six month stipulation won't affect you if this venture falls through and you quit the game. Go ahead and sign them if you wish. I'll get you booked in for your licence renewal for later today, and you'll be able to play tomorrow after I perform a bit of maintenance on your capsule. It's not been used since you left for Paris, after all."

I blink, "Since when did you know how to fix up a VR capsule?"

Uncle Eric shrugs, "Since last April. One of my buddies at the building next to my office showed me how to do it and coached me through the certification."

I pout, "I can do it as well you know. It was kinda part of my job."

He smiles, "Well, what do you say we do it together and call it a bonding experience between niece and uncle?"

I grimace, "Phrasing, man."

Uncle Eric flips me off, "Paris has corrupted your sweet, innocent mind, Winnie. Go start the licence renewal application, I'm going to go get the tools out the shed."