11-24-2009, 10:14 AM
Damon let out a heavy breath as he rubbed an eye with his palm, staring at the stack of papers in front of him on the polished mahogany desk. For the host, ‘retiring for the evening’ simply meant he had other work to attend. Despite the fact that his primary attention focused on Dante’s Abyss, he still had a whole department of Syntex to run. Paperwork wasn’t going to do itself. He’d gotten as far as he had by dedicating every waking moment to being personally involved in everything he committed to; not many in the company could say the same. To him, it was simply good old-fashioned class and work ethic. Dukes couldn’t possibly see why others wouldn’t do the same, so he expected their dedication to be completely equivalent of his. Those who were challenged had to rise to that challenge, and so he had little tolerance for incompetence.
Finally, the papers came back into focus as his blurry vision corrected itself. He stared at a requisition order for development of a new weapon, and the budget was completely astronomical. Damon tossed the order aside and pruned it down to what he believed was absolutely essential without compromising quality; the new draft was sent to the supplier. The next few were proposed projects in the “approve or deny” stage, and he carefully perused them before stamping a final judgment. A yawn escaped his lips, and he leaned back in his expensive leather chair, stretching.
As he hunched over his desk once more, his hand couldn’t help but stray to his Rolodex, and he casually flipped through it until he came to the card of a Capsule Corporation executive. He read the name, the number, and the title, until he flipped the card over. It read, ‘We hope you consider our offer seriously. Your talents are wasted at Syntex.’
A matching salary, annual bonus, guaranteed stock options…Capsule Corporation made an enticing promise. Damon snorted as he put the card back in its place. He’d also have to learn a whole new tank of sharks, and if Dante’s Abyss fell through, he doubted they would be as generous.
Dukes glanced through the rest of the stack, and decided to take a break. He sauntered down to the gymnasium, changing into a Speedo, goggles, diver’s watch, and swim cap in the locker room before diving into the Olympic-sized swimming pool. The rush of the water over his skin felt good, rejuvenating, and relieved the tension that had been bunching up in his neck. A swimming scholarship had been his ticket into one of the most prestigious universities on Earth, where he had graduated with high honors. Some part of him still felt like the best work he ever did was after a session in the pool; it had gotten his foot in the door, after all. It also kept him from looking like those fat slobs that sat on their asses all day long stuffing their pudgy faces with calorie-loaded take-out.
He kept swimming until the alarm on his diver’s watch went off, and he quickly showered and changed back into his designer clothes. It had been a while since he had checked on Audric…too long, he thought.
Damon kept his gait smooth as he headed towards the control room. As he entered, the first thing to greet him was strange noises. Someone was muttering unintelligibly, and as he neared the console, the host could discern that it was coming from Audric. His brows knitted in complete irritation as suspicion washed over him in an all too familiar manner. He violently jerked the rolling chair around, and found his technical supervisor slumped against it with eyes closed and mouth agape.
“You idiot!” Damon shouted, slapping Audric’s face forcefully with the back of his hand.
Audric jumped awake with a start.
“This is a Combat Day! Why are you asleep?” Dukes demanded furiously.
Audric blinked his wide eyes a few times, and then looked around the room as if he couldn’t quite figure out where he was. “I don’t know,” he said distantly. Suddenly, he came to a sobering epiphany. “This isn’t Candyland.”
Damon gestured as if he was going to strangle his underling, and then forcefully restrained himself. “I have…another board meeting…after this Combat Day,” he said slowly, audibly controlling the level of anger in his tone.
“Right,” Audric agreed, pointing an index finger into the air. He turned around to gawk fixedly at the screen, renewed vigilance burning in his eyes. Within a few minutes, his head promptly slumped forward as he fell back asleep. Damon smacked him upside the head once more, so hard that Audric’s headgear came loose. “I’m awake!” the mohawked programmer insisted instantly.
“What happened to that little concoction of yours?” Damon demanded.
Audric pulled out the now-empty pitcher. “I think I pissed it all out.” He craned his head up at Damon. “I’ve been up for three days watching these monitors.” He lifted up an arm and sniffed a pit. “And I smell. Really bad. See?”
Damon instantly retreated a step or two. He exhaled loudly and collected himself. “Go to the sleeping quarters, shower, and go to sleep. You have nine hours before I expect you to be back.”
Audric nodded, stood, and then started caressing the console. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be back.” He glanced at Damon, and said seriously, “Don’t touch anything. The controls are very temperamental. The combat protocols are automatic, so you shouldn’t have to maintain the code like I’ve been doing. If anything goes wrong, call me first. If you bring in any of those moron maintenance guys in here, I’ll castrate you.”
“Audric, I designed this program,” Damon replied pointedly. “I reviewed all of the coding you did. I know how it works.”
“I’m serious, Damon. If you go down, so do I,” Audric continued, any hint of humor gone from his face. “And I’m not going to go quietly.”
The two stared each other down for a moment. Finally, Damon broke into a smile, and Audric did the same. The smiles weren’t friendly ones, although they pretended to be. Audric took the impasse as his signal to begin his break. As soon as he left, Damon cued an attendant to come in and sanitize the supervisor’s chair before the host would allow himself to sit in it.
Due to the nature of the programming, the contestants had only been in there for mainly the equivalent of a day or so, but the lag of coding translated differently to real time. Time, as they say, is relative. When you played a video game, what seemed like a few minutes to you could be a few hours to somebody else. It didn’t help much for the players that the only clocks in the game were synchronized to their collars, and the rest were purposefully out of whack.
Not knowing how much he missed, Damon was relieved that relatively little action had expired since he was gone. He watched in keen interest at how they were handling the effects of the drug-induced euphoria.
“Don’t tell me I never did anything for you,” he chuckled.
Finally, the papers came back into focus as his blurry vision corrected itself. He stared at a requisition order for development of a new weapon, and the budget was completely astronomical. Damon tossed the order aside and pruned it down to what he believed was absolutely essential without compromising quality; the new draft was sent to the supplier. The next few were proposed projects in the “approve or deny” stage, and he carefully perused them before stamping a final judgment. A yawn escaped his lips, and he leaned back in his expensive leather chair, stretching.
As he hunched over his desk once more, his hand couldn’t help but stray to his Rolodex, and he casually flipped through it until he came to the card of a Capsule Corporation executive. He read the name, the number, and the title, until he flipped the card over. It read, ‘We hope you consider our offer seriously. Your talents are wasted at Syntex.’
A matching salary, annual bonus, guaranteed stock options…Capsule Corporation made an enticing promise. Damon snorted as he put the card back in its place. He’d also have to learn a whole new tank of sharks, and if Dante’s Abyss fell through, he doubted they would be as generous.
Dukes glanced through the rest of the stack, and decided to take a break. He sauntered down to the gymnasium, changing into a Speedo, goggles, diver’s watch, and swim cap in the locker room before diving into the Olympic-sized swimming pool. The rush of the water over his skin felt good, rejuvenating, and relieved the tension that had been bunching up in his neck. A swimming scholarship had been his ticket into one of the most prestigious universities on Earth, where he had graduated with high honors. Some part of him still felt like the best work he ever did was after a session in the pool; it had gotten his foot in the door, after all. It also kept him from looking like those fat slobs that sat on their asses all day long stuffing their pudgy faces with calorie-loaded take-out.
He kept swimming until the alarm on his diver’s watch went off, and he quickly showered and changed back into his designer clothes. It had been a while since he had checked on Audric…too long, he thought.
Damon kept his gait smooth as he headed towards the control room. As he entered, the first thing to greet him was strange noises. Someone was muttering unintelligibly, and as he neared the console, the host could discern that it was coming from Audric. His brows knitted in complete irritation as suspicion washed over him in an all too familiar manner. He violently jerked the rolling chair around, and found his technical supervisor slumped against it with eyes closed and mouth agape.
“You idiot!” Damon shouted, slapping Audric’s face forcefully with the back of his hand.
Audric jumped awake with a start.
“This is a Combat Day! Why are you asleep?” Dukes demanded furiously.
Audric blinked his wide eyes a few times, and then looked around the room as if he couldn’t quite figure out where he was. “I don’t know,” he said distantly. Suddenly, he came to a sobering epiphany. “This isn’t Candyland.”
Damon gestured as if he was going to strangle his underling, and then forcefully restrained himself. “I have…another board meeting…after this Combat Day,” he said slowly, audibly controlling the level of anger in his tone.
“Right,” Audric agreed, pointing an index finger into the air. He turned around to gawk fixedly at the screen, renewed vigilance burning in his eyes. Within a few minutes, his head promptly slumped forward as he fell back asleep. Damon smacked him upside the head once more, so hard that Audric’s headgear came loose. “I’m awake!” the mohawked programmer insisted instantly.
“What happened to that little concoction of yours?” Damon demanded.
Audric pulled out the now-empty pitcher. “I think I pissed it all out.” He craned his head up at Damon. “I’ve been up for three days watching these monitors.” He lifted up an arm and sniffed a pit. “And I smell. Really bad. See?”
Damon instantly retreated a step or two. He exhaled loudly and collected himself. “Go to the sleeping quarters, shower, and go to sleep. You have nine hours before I expect you to be back.”
Audric nodded, stood, and then started caressing the console. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be back.” He glanced at Damon, and said seriously, “Don’t touch anything. The controls are very temperamental. The combat protocols are automatic, so you shouldn’t have to maintain the code like I’ve been doing. If anything goes wrong, call me first. If you bring in any of those moron maintenance guys in here, I’ll castrate you.”
“Audric, I designed this program,” Damon replied pointedly. “I reviewed all of the coding you did. I know how it works.”
“I’m serious, Damon. If you go down, so do I,” Audric continued, any hint of humor gone from his face. “And I’m not going to go quietly.”
The two stared each other down for a moment. Finally, Damon broke into a smile, and Audric did the same. The smiles weren’t friendly ones, although they pretended to be. Audric took the impasse as his signal to begin his break. As soon as he left, Damon cued an attendant to come in and sanitize the supervisor’s chair before the host would allow himself to sit in it.
Due to the nature of the programming, the contestants had only been in there for mainly the equivalent of a day or so, but the lag of coding translated differently to real time. Time, as they say, is relative. When you played a video game, what seemed like a few minutes to you could be a few hours to somebody else. It didn’t help much for the players that the only clocks in the game were synchronized to their collars, and the rest were purposefully out of whack.
Not knowing how much he missed, Damon was relieved that relatively little action had expired since he was gone. He watched in keen interest at how they were handling the effects of the drug-induced euphoria.
“Don’t tell me I never did anything for you,” he chuckled.
![[Image: 3nyxortbSM.jpg]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v234/waffuru/3nyxortbSM.jpg)