11-22-2009, 10:02 AM
Dutifully, and a little too gleefully, Audric hit rewind, and then play, and after the clip was done, he hit rewind again and started the whole thing all over.
“If I were that fucking impotent, I’d want to watch a bunch of kids being forced to play in my little game, too. No, really, it sounds healthy.”
The supervisor watched in rapture as the human teenager poured insult after insult out into the empty air, heard only by the digital programming that conveyed it into sound over the speakers of the control room console. After the clip was over, Audric clapped, a goofy grin plastered all over his face.
“You want to watch it again?” the programmer asked, craning his head over his shoulder.
“Be my guest,” Damon gestured coolly.
Audric’s smile turned into a disappointed frown. “I must have played this a dozen times now, and your reaction hasn’t changed one bit since he said it the first time. You’re no fun. What’s wrong with you?”
Damon chuckled, sincerely amused. “Because, it doesn’t matter. Why should I care?”
“Because he’s making you look bad in front of the board?” Audric guessed.
“I should think that his words were rather entertaining to them, and if the board is entertained, then they are pleased. If they are pleased, it only furthers my ends. Besides, I got him to do exactly what I want him to do,” Dukes replied with a slight smile.
“And that is…?”
“He’s playing the game,” Damon answered slowly, a hint of humor in his tone. “Once you figure people out, all you have to do is push the right buttons, and they’ll believe that their actions are of their own motivation. Instill a little fear into a superstitious boy, disguise someone as a hated enemy, force someone to beat a dear friend within an inch of their life, or insult someone in just the right way. Why, you could motivate them to do just about anything, don’t you think? I don’t have to pull strings anymore; they’ll do it on their own, now. And that’s exactly what the board wants: completely willing participants. If I have to sacrifice the opinion of one completely insignificant adolescent to get there, then so be it. I play chess, not checkers.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a complete and total bastard?” Audric said.
“Many times. In the end, it’s just business. The world isn’t black and white,” Damon shrugged. “They’re being compensated, and once they’re done with this tournament, they move on with their lives. I might have mislead them into the Abyss, but they have stayed in the Abyss because they choose to stay; I’m not forcing anyone to be here.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Damon,” the game supervisor retorted.
Damon just chuckled. “Go ahead and inject the ‘happy cocktail.’ I think they could use it right about now. Make sure the dosage is adjusted for our recreational substance users; they’ll need a little more.”
“Absolutely,” Audric agreed.
“And Audric, no more mods. I want this next round to be completely free of technical interference,” the host continued. He glanced at the clock and rose from his chair. “I’m going to retire for the evening.”
Audric flashed him a thumbs up.
“You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?” Dukes asked, somewhat warningly.
“No sir, I got this little, drink thing going on here,” the other answered. He raised a giant pitcher in view for his boss to see, and it contained a large amount of brownish, odd-colored liquid. Audric looked inside the pitcher opening and took a big whiff, inspecting the contents. “I got some coffee, I got some Mountain Dew, some espresso, uh, some Red Bull, uh…I don’t remember what that is but the smell is familiar…ummm, some…I think it’s, Jolt cola? I don’t really know; I just kind of went into the kitchen and started mixing stuff, I didn’t really look at the labels very long, and I think I put…”
“I…don’t need to hear this,” Damon cut him off.
“Want some?” Audric offered brightly, gesturing his pitcher towards his superior.
Damon glanced disgustedly at the pitcher, and then at Audric, and just left. The techie shrugged, as if saying, “Your loss.” He set the container of amalgamated beverages back where he’d placed it before, and then hovered his hand over the console, looking for the controls to the chambers’ chemical tubes. He noticed they were on a farther end, and slid over in his rolling chair. The supervisor pulled out a chart of meticulously prepared notes regarding dosages for each of the contestants, and carefully inputted the data into the command line, one at a time.
As soon as the correct prompts were entered, Audric carefully coasted his fingers along a digital slide on a tracking pad, and the chemicals began to pump into the players through their IVs. Four different flavors combined together to make the “happy cocktail”: serotonin, dopamine, nor-adrenaline, and endorphins.
“If I were that fucking impotent, I’d want to watch a bunch of kids being forced to play in my little game, too. No, really, it sounds healthy.”
The supervisor watched in rapture as the human teenager poured insult after insult out into the empty air, heard only by the digital programming that conveyed it into sound over the speakers of the control room console. After the clip was over, Audric clapped, a goofy grin plastered all over his face.
“You want to watch it again?” the programmer asked, craning his head over his shoulder.
“Be my guest,” Damon gestured coolly.
Audric’s smile turned into a disappointed frown. “I must have played this a dozen times now, and your reaction hasn’t changed one bit since he said it the first time. You’re no fun. What’s wrong with you?”
Damon chuckled, sincerely amused. “Because, it doesn’t matter. Why should I care?”
“Because he’s making you look bad in front of the board?” Audric guessed.
“I should think that his words were rather entertaining to them, and if the board is entertained, then they are pleased. If they are pleased, it only furthers my ends. Besides, I got him to do exactly what I want him to do,” Dukes replied with a slight smile.
“And that is…?”
“He’s playing the game,” Damon answered slowly, a hint of humor in his tone. “Once you figure people out, all you have to do is push the right buttons, and they’ll believe that their actions are of their own motivation. Instill a little fear into a superstitious boy, disguise someone as a hated enemy, force someone to beat a dear friend within an inch of their life, or insult someone in just the right way. Why, you could motivate them to do just about anything, don’t you think? I don’t have to pull strings anymore; they’ll do it on their own, now. And that’s exactly what the board wants: completely willing participants. If I have to sacrifice the opinion of one completely insignificant adolescent to get there, then so be it. I play chess, not checkers.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a complete and total bastard?” Audric said.
“Many times. In the end, it’s just business. The world isn’t black and white,” Damon shrugged. “They’re being compensated, and once they’re done with this tournament, they move on with their lives. I might have mislead them into the Abyss, but they have stayed in the Abyss because they choose to stay; I’m not forcing anyone to be here.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Damon,” the game supervisor retorted.
Damon just chuckled. “Go ahead and inject the ‘happy cocktail.’ I think they could use it right about now. Make sure the dosage is adjusted for our recreational substance users; they’ll need a little more.”
“Absolutely,” Audric agreed.
“And Audric, no more mods. I want this next round to be completely free of technical interference,” the host continued. He glanced at the clock and rose from his chair. “I’m going to retire for the evening.”
Audric flashed him a thumbs up.
“You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?” Dukes asked, somewhat warningly.
“No sir, I got this little, drink thing going on here,” the other answered. He raised a giant pitcher in view for his boss to see, and it contained a large amount of brownish, odd-colored liquid. Audric looked inside the pitcher opening and took a big whiff, inspecting the contents. “I got some coffee, I got some Mountain Dew, some espresso, uh, some Red Bull, uh…I don’t remember what that is but the smell is familiar…ummm, some…I think it’s, Jolt cola? I don’t really know; I just kind of went into the kitchen and started mixing stuff, I didn’t really look at the labels very long, and I think I put…”
“I…don’t need to hear this,” Damon cut him off.
“Want some?” Audric offered brightly, gesturing his pitcher towards his superior.
Damon glanced disgustedly at the pitcher, and then at Audric, and just left. The techie shrugged, as if saying, “Your loss.” He set the container of amalgamated beverages back where he’d placed it before, and then hovered his hand over the console, looking for the controls to the chambers’ chemical tubes. He noticed they were on a farther end, and slid over in his rolling chair. The supervisor pulled out a chart of meticulously prepared notes regarding dosages for each of the contestants, and carefully inputted the data into the command line, one at a time.
As soon as the correct prompts were entered, Audric carefully coasted his fingers along a digital slide on a tracking pad, and the chemicals began to pump into the players through their IVs. Four different flavors combined together to make the “happy cocktail”: serotonin, dopamine, nor-adrenaline, and endorphins.
![[Image: 3nyxortbSM.jpg]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v234/waffuru/3nyxortbSM.jpg)