“Just one more minute.”
“Fine.”
“But seriously, where are we?”
“Nobody knows. Or if they know, they’re not saying. Don’t bother asking.”
“Something’s really wrong with my left arm,” I showed her my swollen elbow. “They gave me a bad set. I mean, old and flabby I can deal with, or weak, but it’s still supposed to work, right?”
“Can you bend it?” the girl asked me sharply, eyeing my elbow.
“Well... it hurts to bend it. I got that painkiller shot, but still — ”
“That’s not what I asked, nullbie! Stop whining! Can you bend it?”
My anger rose again, mixed with annoyance.
“Hold on...”
I gritted my teeth and moved my left hand, clenching and unclenching the fingers, then started the worst part: bending my arm at the elbow. I immediately groaned in pain. It was a wrenching pain that seemed to tear my nerves apart, pain too strong for me to handle, even on painkillers.
But I did manage to bend my arm. Not all the way, but it definitely bent.
Ninety-One shook her head uncertainly and stood up.
“You’re out of luck, Eleven. Your fingers work, your wrist turns, your shoulder’s okay, and the elbow bends. Your arm works.”
“But when I bend it I can barely move from the pain.”
“Your arm works,” she said again, “and no one cares if it hurts. Especially the system. They won’t give you a different set, or a new arm. If something happens to your arm and it’s your fault, you’ll be one-armed like me. If you lose both arms or legs, you’ll end up a total cripple. Then you either die of hunger or give up the rest of your limbs and become the lowest of the low, doing horrible things for food and water, inching around like a worm with a human face...”
She shuddered. I shuddered too, imagining what kind of things a person with no limbs would agree to do… Someone who couldn’t work, but wasn’t willing to die.
“What if I don’t want to humiliate myself like that, but don’t want to starve to death either?”
“Then you crawl on over to a medblock and ask for the final injection. Once you confirm that’s what you want... well, that’s the end of that.”
“Jeez...”
“Listen...” she leaned in. “Don’t think too hard about it. All you have to remember is this one thing: just do the job the system gives you every day. That’s it. You won’t have any problems. The marks on the walls, floor, and ceiling will show you how to get around. Don’t ask anyone for directions! You’re lucky you met me. There are tons of dirty griefers here who look like normal people, but are actually rat bastards. They’ll send you the wrong way and make you late, or maybe even lock you in somewhere, and then you’re done for. If you don’t finish your job, you’ll get your first warning... Don’t ask anyone anything. Do your best not to look like a snot-nosed noob! Try and figure everything out yourself. If you do need help and have to ask for it, never agree until they tell you exactly what it’ll cost, and in front of witnesses — reliable witnesses! Otherwise things will get messy.”
“Okay... But what’s a — ”
She didn’t hear me.
“Once you get used to this place, find a permanent party. A strong and reliable partner. Or better yet, two. You’ll help each other. Work together. Protect one another. If one gets sick, the others can help out and do their job for them. Do you understand me? You need a party. An official one, approved by the system. You’re a weakling, more or less one-armed. You should look for a tank. Someone strong, tough, brave. Someone who won’t run away from the first plux he meets.”
“God damn,” I swore, shaking my head. All this new information was too much to process.
What was this bitter girl talking about?
Griefers?
Party?
Tanks?
Plux?
I knew the first three words, at least. Old gaming terms. But this wasn’t a game! I was alive, I could feel pain. I understood fuckall. Wherever I was reminded me more of a prison than anything.
Plux? What the hell was a plux?
“Good luck!”
“Wait!”
“What else do you want? I’ve earned this breakfast twice over!”
“Join my party!” I said, looking up at her, hugging my knees to my chest with my good arm. The left one still lay lifelessly on the floor.
“You think I want someone like you in my party? Listen, new guy... Double ones... Don’t get offended, but... imagine how you look from here. What can you possibly do?”
“You don’t know what I can or can’t do,” I said. “I don’t even know what I’m capable of yet. Don’t judge me so quickly.”
“No. I don’t want you in my party.”
“That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t asking to join your party. I want you to join mine.”
Her only answer was a quick laugh as she waved me off, then turned and started down the hallway. Before she had gone more than a few steps, I shouted:
“Think about it! My offer still stands!”
She was gone.
