I wake up with the uneasy feeling of a half remembered nightmare. Disjointed fragments still race through my mind, images of me running from a woman I don't know and couldn't describe, of Steve shirtless and holding me, and of a vortex of ones and zeroes. My head throbs a little, in part from the nightmare, in part from waking up, in part probably from dehydration. I roll out of bed and look at my alarm clock. Ten-thirty in the morning. Still slept in, but nothing like yesterday.
Still wearing my night clothes, I pad out on bare feet. Trish is already awake and eating breakfast. I join her in what passes as a dining room for us. We've made it double as a study area, extra storage, bar, and, yes, an eating area. I sit down at a clear area on the small table we have. "Morning."
"Morning, Jackie," Trish says between bites of her omelette. "I've got coffee on."
I get up again and shuffle to the kitchen. I hear the perculator gurgle as I enter. Instead of coffee, though, I grab a glass from the cupboard and the orange juice from the fridge. My throat's still dry and my headache is threatening to become piercing. I fill the glass and drain it in one shot. As I refill the glass, I consider what to eat. Trish's omelette smelled wonderful, but I think I want something more. Maybe a western sandwich. I start gathering what I need, eggs, onion, ham, and spices.
As the western is frying on the stove, I finish my second glass of OJ and put the glass in the dishwasher. My head is starting to clear again. I put on toast for the sandwich and wait as the different parts of my breakfast cook.
The smell of coffee is too enticing to ignore any longer. Once my breakfast is ready, I pour a mug of coffee and bring everything back to the dining room. Trish sets her fork down on her plate with a clatter as I sit down. "Anything planned for today?" I ask my roommate.
"I have an assignment to finish," she says. "Nothing difficult. You?"
"Nothing, really. Maybe write up better comments for my program."
"Feeling better?"
I nod, then take a bite of my sandwich. "Something weird happened last night."
"You had fun. What's so weird about that?"
I take a sip of coffee. "Not that. Other things. Like feeling drunk or spending all night with some strange guy."
"You might have been drunk, Jackie. You're not a big drinker."
"Two beers shouldn't have been enough to get me to giggle."
Trish raises an eyebrow. "So what if you laughed."
"Not laughed, Trish. Giggled. I don't giggle. Nor do I titter. I guffaw. I have belly laughs. I go 'ha-ha-ha!' I most certainly do not giggle. Yet, last night, I giggled right in front of Steve."
"Maybe you were using your feminine wiles on him." Trish shrugged. "I've done it."
I keep eating. "You, yes, but I'm not you. I'm not the type to giggle for a guy to get him to notice me."
"Fine, you giggled. It's not the end of the world."
Giving her a look of doubt, I say, "That's not it. I felt like I was being watched."
"You better have been watched. You were hot last night."
"Not that type of watched. The creepier type of being watched. It started when I was with Steve."
Trish smirks. "Maybe it's an ex of his who can't accept it's over. Don't worry about it."
I shrug. "Maybe." I finish my western. "It's just weird."
Trish gets up, picking up her dishes. "The weirdness is in your head. Going to call Steve?"
"I don't know." I probably should let him know I got home safely. "Maybe."
Trish turns away with a broad grin. She walks into the kitchen. I ignore her in favour of my coffee. I start feeling warmer, which makes me wonder when it got cooler in here. I get up and go to the living room so I can look outside. A light blanket of snow covers the ground. I blink. When did it snow? It was pleasant out last night.
I return to my room, coffee in hand, and sit down at my computer. I bring up Environment Canada's forecast page for Ottawa. The temperature is hovering at the freezing mark. "Great," I mutter aloud. I click on the link to the graphical summary of the past twenty-four hours. Around four this morning, the mercury dove from a nice autumn day to a more wintery temperature. Brr.
I choose warm clothes for today, getting out a pair of woolen socks for my feet and a purple pullover. Once I've dressed, I sit back down at my PC and check my email. It's a bit of a chore; I have way too many accounts for one person. Most of them have the usual junk email. My Hotmail account, though, has a reply from Lance. I open it, eager to see what he says.
Jacinda,
It's a test the developers added to the game. They want to see if the play testers can find it. The ones who do can get a package from them to test the lastest in the game. I can send it to you. If you're on tonight, let me know so I can get a mailing address from you.
-- Lance
I check the date the message arrived. He sent it sometime last night while I was out dancing. Oops. I send a quick reply to let him know I'm around, then open my assignment's file so I can tweak the wording of my comments better.
Lance tries to reach me through instant messaging ninety minutes later. I save what I'm doing and answer him. I start with an apology for not replying sooner, though I hold back what I was doing.
That's okay. At least you got my message.
I type in, Yeah. Thanks for letting me know I wasn't going crazy there. Why would they put that in?
There's a long explanation. It'll be in the package. Speaking of which, where should I send it?
I think for a moment, not yet ready to reveal my address to some stranger on the Internet. Can you ship it internationally? I'm up in Ottawa, Ontario. You know, Canada.
There's hesitation before he starts typing again. Ottawa? I'm in Ottawa, too. Well, Barrhaven, but that's part of the city now. A massive consolidation of the municipalities in the region resulted in all the satellite cities and suburbs being merged with Ottawa proper. Barrhaven used to be part of Nepean before the merger and has grown from an out of the way subdivision to an expanding 'burb.
We could meet somewhere. There's plenty of public places in the city.
Sure. Anyplace you prefer?
I have to think about it. I don't want him to know where I go to school yet, and I don't want to use a place I hang out in. An idea comes to me. You know where the Bridgehead coffee shop is downtown? Albert and Bank? I've been there a few times, but not regularly. It also has wireless access, always a benefit to me.
I can be there. Is today good?
I look outside again. The snow doesn't show signs of melting today. I've always used the first day of snow as an excuse to not go outside. No need to break the tradition now. Not really. What about tomorrow?
I'll have to meet you after work, then. Can you be there for four o'clock?
Now I am really impressed. Few people type the time out in all words these days. Four it is. See you then!
cya :) Lance signs out, leaving me with a three quarters tweaked assignment and a game that's still intriguing.
I finish re-documenting the assignment. It doesn't take long, more of a clean up than anything else. Making sure that I've backed up the files to a USB thumb drive and to a burned CD, I shut down the assignment. I then open Valor Quest and check on Jacinda. She's still at the inn where I left her. She does her waking up animation, including stretching and rubbing her eyes. I get her out of the inn and back on the streets of the small town.
Today, I feel like seeing how social the game is. Jacinda walks around town, chatting with anyone she meets. Most of the people she talks with are non-player characters with limited responses. The few players I run into are far more talkative, even if their spelling isn't as precise. There's little difference in terms of appearance between a character run by a player and one run by the server. Everyone has drab clothes, the exceptions being Jacinda and a few others. Some of the players I meet ask me how I changed the colour of Jacinda's clothes. To each one, I reply that it's something I'm not allowed to share and that the developers have added Easter eggs, hidden little bonuses, to the game.
After about a half hour of wandering, it occurs to me to see if I can access the option screens of other characters. I limit the experiments to just non-players. I know I'd hate it if someone came up and change the colour of my character's equipment without permission. I find an obvious non-player, a beggar asking for alms at the mouth of an alley. Jacinda gives him a coin. I click on him and try several mouse movements. Moving the point along the bottom of the screen brings up a screen similar full of options similar to what Jacinda has. For a lark, I change the beggar's dirty brown rags to a bright pink.
Taking a closer look at the options, I can see that the beggar has a wealth bar. I increase his gold to see what will happen, then save all my changes. On screen, the beggar's clothes transform from rags to a tunic and hose, still pink. A cape appears on his shoulders and blows in the non-existent wind. I get Jacinda to talk to him again. He asks for alms again, but this time he explains that he's collecting the money to help the poor in the town. Jacinda hands him another coin. The former beggar thanks her and leaves.
I frantically look for a piece of paper to write down what I did. This is amazing! I'm beginning to wish my Sims could do something similar. I rip a page out of the back of my lab book and jot down notes. Jacinda, meanwhile, is bored again from waiting for me. By the time I get back to her, she's leaning against the wall and is doodling in the dirt with her staff.
I get her walking again, chatting with more townspeople. I try the same trick I did with the beggar on a merchant. His options also include a wealth meter, his is in the middle of the range. I move the bar down and apply it. His store changes from a brightly lit, clean building filled with well-made goods to a dingy run down hole in the wall with shoddy equipment tossed haphazardly. The merchant glowers at Jacinda then orders her out. I write down this chain of events as well.
An alarm bell rings in the town. Characters start rushing around. The global chat is filled with, "What's that?" and "An alarm, in town?" and many "WTF". I have Jacinda run in a circle so I can see what's going on. To the south, a wall has broken and numerous creatures are swarming inside. Spells start streaking at the invaders from players who have figured out what is happening. I run my mouse around the hole in the broken wall, then right click. My choices include a few ice spells. I select one called Sleet Storm and hope that it'll be enough.
A cloud forms over the hole and the creatures coming through it. Pellets drop from the cloud as if hurled. Several of the smaller creatures fall over and disappear. Larger ones, though, keep coming through, unaffected. They could be immune to the cold, though. I do the circle again, this time counter-clockwise. I get a list of fire-based spells this time. The spell called Hellstrom sounds perfect.
Jacinda bursts into flame. A quick glance at her hit point total tells me that she took some damage from that alone, but nothing serious. The computer generated sorceress stretches out her arms, fire dancing along them. After a moment, hellfire is unleashed and winds its way from her to the invaders. All of the invaders. My mouth drops at the sheer power involved, even if it is just a game. None of the creatures attacking the town survive the maelstrom of flame.
The spell ends. Jacinda drops to one knee. I'm impressed, first at the spell and now with how exhausted she looks. The developers went out of their way to show how fatiguing channeling magic is for wizards. The length of time it takes Jacinda to stand back up, though, is not going to make players happy. This time, at least she wasn't still fighting.
An invitation from Valor Admin Three to chat appears. I accept it and the chat window opens. VA Three starts by asking my how I cast the spell. I answer by typing in point by point how I found the Hellstrom spell. The chat window closes without warning.
Apparently, rudeness is required to be one of the Valor Administrators. I look at Jacinda's stats. Her magic points are almost gone, but are replenishing. Her hit points haven't dropped since she became the living flame. She should be good for a quick adventure in the fields, provided that the goblins don't outnumber her.
Before I can take Jacinda out of the town for her adventure, I hear the phone ring. I wait to see if Trish answers it. The second ring is cut off. A moment later, Trish calls my name. "Coming!" I yell back. So much for adventure. I take Jacinda back to the inn before quitting the game. She deserves the rest.
I dash out of my room and pick up the phone receiver. "Hello?"
"Jackie, hi." I recognize my mom's voice on the line. "How are you doing?" I also recognize the tone of voice. It's the one that says, "You haven't called in awhile and I will make you feel guilty about it."
I force my tone to remain cheery. "Hi, Mom. I'm doing well. Sorry I haven't called lately. You know how it is, school, homework, and all that."
"I see." The words belie what Mom really means. "Your dad and I were wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner with us. Trish is invited, too."
Free food and a way to get back in Mom's good graces? I'll take that, thanks. "Sure. What time and should we meet you at the restaurant or your home?"
"Your father wanted to do Tex-Mex tonight, so he's thinking Mexicali Rosa's at the Dow's Lake Pavillion."
I haven't been there in ages. It's such a nice view there, too. Dow's Lake is where the Rideau River and the Rideau Canal join briefly. The pavillion has a couple of restaurants, and people can walk to it or dock their boats near by. "Yummy! I'll let Trish know. Is there anything we should bring?"
"No, dear. We're not taking you away from anything, are we?"
"Just me from doing the dishes tonight." I laugh. A proper laugh, not a giggle. "And Trish will appreciate not having to cook. Thanks, Mom."
"Do try to call more often, Jackie. I'd like to hear from you."
"I will, Mom. Promise. Oh, what time tonight? Six?"
"Six is good. See you then. Bye."
"Bye, Mom. I love you."
I hang up the phone. My ear is safe for now, but dinner will see it talked off. Mom means well, but she's really not ready to let her little girl go, no matter how much I want to spread my wings. Better let Trish know. I walk over to her bedroom door and knock.
Trish opens the door. "How's your mother?"
"She misses me. Therefore, we're invited to dinner tonight. You're available, right?"
"Definitely."
Dinner with my parents went better than I expected. Mom and I caught up, though I never told her about the play test or Steve. Once I figure out what's going on in either, I'll fill her in. No need to get her hopes up about my love life just yet. Trish and I get in shortly after eight, full of Mexican food and Sangria. I flop on to the couch and relax. Trish takes the easy chair. She belches as her butt his the seat. I laugh. She joins in.
"I ate too much," Trish complains. "You should have stopped me before the pie."
"Mom offered. It would have been rude to refuse."
"Then can you roll me into my bedroom?"
I get back up and help her out of the chair. Realizing my schedule for tomorrow is, I head to my own room. "I should get to sleep. This weekend has taken a lot out of me."
"All right. Night, Jackie."
I enter my bedroom. The bed is still unmade from this morning. With a shrug, I fix up the covers and add a quilt. The temperature dropped this evening, making it feel more like winter. I pick up my night clothes from the chair I hung them on this morning. As I take off my shirt, I glance at something in my mirror. I look again. Two faceless eyes stare at me. "Trish!" I shout. "Trish! Get in here!" I hold my shirt over my breasts to hide and protect them.
My roommate bursts through the door. "What is it?"
"The mirror." I point at it.
Trish looks. "What about it?"
"You don't see them?"
"See what?"
"The eyes."
Trish turns her attention to me. "What eyes?"
I approach the mirror. "I saw two eyes looking at me." I poke the glass. "There were right here."
"You're tired, Jackie. You're just seeing things."
"I know what I saw, Trish."
"I know, but how could there be eyes in a mirror that aren't yours?" Trish checks out her reflection. "Probably just the light. You're going to be okay."
I poke the mirror again. It feels like glass, as it should. "You're probably right."
Trish leaves, closing the door behind me. I finish changing, setting a new personal record. I grab my pillow and my quilt and take them with me to the living room. Trish could be right and it was just an odd reflection. Still, I'm going to sleep better out here, away from weirdness.
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