Marcus Klein leaned back in the old battered computer chair that had survived over forty years of moves, fights, and raids. The faux leather was all but gone except for a few strips doggedly hanging on, and the plastic arms had fallen off somewhere between Texas and North Dakota during move three. Still, despite its look and lack of any cushioning Marcus refused to get rid of the damned thing. Just like – he thought with some frustration – the over three terabytes of games that sat lonely and never played in his Diesel library. Unlike his old computer chair, the thousands of dollars of unused potential caused the old man to let out a heavy sigh of frustration.

  Slipping an equally battered wedding ring off his finger he began to twirling it in his hand he sat back up and selected two games he had been putting off forever. Maybe, if his wife fell asleep like a normal person … Marcus quickly pushed the thought away and focused on his selections. The two games were pretty casual but he really didn’t have time to waste on longer, story-driven games at this point. Still twirling the ring in his fingers he selected to install and leaned back to look at the history staring back at him.

  Forty years and thousands of dollars stared back at him. Before his friends convinced him to get the Tank Games Magenta Box he would have never considered himself a gamer but Team Tower Two, Crowbar Doc 2, and the still amazing Teleporter changed all that. The ring spun faster between Marcus’s Thumb and forefinger as he thought back to the late nights slinging an oversized Gatling-gun protecting minecarts from his opposition. The hours spent trying to figure out the best teleport points, or the agonizing over whether or not Crowbar 3 would ever be released. The “fireside chats” his clans would have over IRC, the planning, the fights ... to Marcus it was the first real taste of community outside of his gang back in his hometown in West Virginia.

  After that purchase, Marcus became a gamer. In the space of a few years, he took part in thousands of matches, beat every FPS he could find and found a more stable crowd of friends in MMOs like The Forever Journey and Nation of Heroes. To this day it was still what he referred to himself as even as the game library grew and his in-game time - year after year - got smaller and smaller to the point that now it wasn’t even registering an hour a month. More proof that, like everything else in his life, Marcus was terrible at ever finishing anything well or with satisfaction.

  From across the room, the chirping of the family assistant pulled Marcus from his quickly darkening thoughts and back to the reality of the now. Marcus let out a groan as he turned the chair toward the sound. “Yes, Lucy?”

  “Master, your appointment is in thirty-minutes, you set a reminder.”

  Marcus glanced over at the small analog clock that sat next to his desk and let out a soft curse. “Can I just skip it?” He asked, his gaze moving to the games almost finished with their install.

  “The Mistress said if you missed another appointment that she would castrate you and more importantly would reset me with a magnet.” The assistant said her cherry voice not belaying anything.

  “So ... no?”

  “Correct Master,” The AI said without missing a beat and continued. “I have also taken the liberty of securing your transportation.”

  “I own a car, Lucy,” Marcus said annoyance growing in his voice. “I can drive myself.”

  Marcus struggled to his feet, grabbing his cane before he lost his footing. A lifetime of fighting in the dead, drug-filled coal town of his youth had left Marcus’s body a living monument to the gangs and violence that plagued the area through the latter part of the twentieth century.

  “No, you cannot Master.” The assistant said. “You failed to pay your vehicle’s Carbon Fine ... again.” There was a momentary pause before the AI continued. “Your vehicle has been impounded until payment is rendered or you send the vehicle to recycling.”

  Marcus let out another curse, adding in a few choice words in several fantasy languages that just felt right. “Does Dale know?”

  “The Mistress is - at this time - unaware of the lateness of the payment, Master.”

  Marcus nodded as he grabbed his hat and a small portable unit for Lucy before leaving the house, not worrying about the door as he made his to the front of the drive to wait for his ride. As he passed his car - an old 2020 Impala - he let out a small snarl as he saw the wedge boot around his tire.

  Dale Klein adjusted her glasses as she scanned over the lab report that had just pinged her mail. A frown plagued her narrow, child-like face as her fingers flicked through the lab report. She absently tapped her desk, bringing its screens to life and Dale began to absently write out her thoughts.

  Dale was nearly done with her assessment when a chime alerted her to Lucy's presence in the room. Laying her tablet down on the desk she swiftly saved her work and tapped on Lucy's glowing sigil.

  "Yeah, Lucy?" Dale asked the AI as light coalesced in the form of a diamond above her desk.

  "Good afternoon, Mistress," the chipper assistant said, her avatar pulsing slightly with each precisely uttered word. "Master Marcus has left for his appointment."

  Dale nodded and picked the tablet back up, swiping to her husband's own recent lab results and frowning slightly. "Did you remind him that he hasn't paid his Carbon Fine yet?"

  "Yes, Mistress," Lucy bobbed for a moment conveying apprehension.

  "What's wrong, Lucy?" Dale asked, not sparing a glance as she went through Marcus's blood-work, and trying to contain a scowl as the results showed her the opposite of what she wanted to see.

  "Master Marcus asked me not to let you know that he had forgotten to pay the fine." Lucy's voice faltered slightly as she struggled to understand humans. "However, you already knew about the fine, Mistress. Why did you not tell your husband?"

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Dale put the tablet down and rubbed her eyes. "The dance of husbands and wives is a very complex one and no matter how experienced you get the dance never becomes any easier."

  "I do not understand, Mistress."

  Dale kept her eyes closed and leaned back in the chair. "No one really does, Lucy. No one really does."

  Marcus sat in the overly large and soft chair staring down at the nettle tea that Dr. Patris’ assistant had brought him while he waited for his therapist to see him. When he was younger Marcus had enjoyed nettle tea as well as most other herbal teas. However, he was a hopeless coffee addict and no tea or coffee substitute could ever replace the slightly dark crude he enjoyed through much of his life. With a wince, Marcus took a sip of the tea and nearly gagged the earthy taste of the tea hit him.

  Patris entered the small, cozily arranged office through a side door and walked toward Marcus. Dr. Patris - like Marcus - was an older man but unlike Marcus he was still muscularly built, with a spring in his step that belied the weight of his years. Conversely, the only things the two had in common was their salt and pepper beards which flowed down to mid-chest.

  “Good Afternoon, Marcus, how’s the day.” Patris said as he made his way to a nearby seat and took a tablet and stylus from his bag.

  Marcus shrugged. He liked Patris and found the other man to be a good guy. However, Marcus found it next to impossible to ever open up to the man ... or really to any of the therapists he’d seen in the past two years. The silence stretched on for a few more moments before spoke.

  “Does it matter?” Marcus finally said, fixing the doctor with a glare. “My wife pays you to help me, Ken, we may be cool but you’re still her man before you are anything to me.”

  Patris shrugged, the two of them had had this argument more than once and would probably have it until one of them died. “True I do follow her around by the purse strings,” He smiled slightly then continued more seriously. “Marcus, we’ve been through this, it doesn’t matter who pays me I’m here to help you.”

  Marcus shook his head than sipped at his tea before choking on it. “If you want to help me get some coffee.”

  Patris let out a laugh. “Come now, Marcus if I could afford coffee, then why would I be wasting my time with a lost cause like you?”

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed a bit and he put the mug down, causing the small end-table to vibrate at the force. “Lost cause, huh? Tell me then Doc, what’s it going to be today?”

  Patris tapped his stylus against his jaw for a moment, “Honestly, I’m wondering why your extra combative today?” He looked at Marcus squarely, almost challenging him. “Another fight with Dale?”

  Marcus let out a sigh and picked the mug of tea back up. He stared at the therapist for a long moment before gulping down the rest of the steaming drinking. “No ... or yes ... honestly, don’t really know at this point, Doc.”

  Patris nodded, encouraging Marcus to continue but he sat quietly staring out the window. “Didn’t get another gig. That makes four this month.” Marcus said flatly. “All these new languages are considered IP you know,” he finally looked back over at the doctor. “Hard as hell to afford even a training license.”

  Patris nodded and took a few notes. “Normal work or are you still ...”

  Marcus waved him off. “No, I gave up on game development in my forties now I just want a cubicle I can waste away in.” He lifted the mug and scowled at the lack of liquid. “Someplace that isn’t at home.”

  An hour later Marcus sat in the waiting room of Dr. Patris’s office waiting for his ride to arrive. The meeting had - as usual - been a waste of his time and money. He enjoyed having someone to complain at but Patris didn’t really do much except offer him subpar tea and an ear. “Seriously,” Marcus groaned quietly. “At a grand a month you’d think he’d tell me how to ‘fix’ myself.”

  Patris was the latest in a long line of councilors, therapists, self-help gurus, and hippies that Marcus had gone to in order to figure himself out. Over a thirty-years and still, he couldn’t find a single person who could tell him what his issue was on the way or how he attempted to sabotage his marriage, his career, his kids ... in the end he typically wound up hearing platitudes, or the blame being shifted to Dale.

  Thinking of his wife caused Marcus to open his eyes. As busy as his wife was with her practice, she insisted he call after every meeting with Patris. Personally, Marcus hated it, hated that his wife tried to worm her way into every aspect of his life, and move him about like a piece on a board or ... he buried the thought quickly and tapped his personal display, allowing Lucy to manifest in his vision.

  “Yes, Master?”

  Marcus couldn’t help but smile. When he was eight, he’d been blown away by CompuServe and ship computer on TNG. Lucy thought was light-years of anything he had ever dreamed possible in his lifetime - still no flying cars though.

  “Lucy can you connect me to ...” Marcus froze mid-sentence as he noticed a small throbbing green glow on his display’s HUD. “Lucy, is that my business account?”

  Lucy’s diamond pulsed, almost in time with the throbbing green glow. “Yes, Master. You received a mail approximately forty-five minutes ago.”

  “What?!” Marcus screamed causing some of the others in the lobby to stare at him. “Damn it, Lucy you're supposed to tell me right away when something comes into that account.”

  “Yes, but I am also not to disturb you during appointments.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to explain to the assistant about exceptions to rules but promptly closed his mouth.

  “Fine,” he said after a moment and a long count to ten. “Let me see the mail.”

  Marcus could feel the increase in his heartbeat, felt the now old and familiar pain that went with it in his left breast. He did his best not to smile but slowly a grin crossed his face.

  Pilgrimage Entertainment was one of the leaders in VR films, interactive stories, and educational software. Marcus had applied to for a project engineer with them over five years go but had never heard back. At the time the generic message of his resume is kept on file meant nothing to him than another bullcrap line from a soulless company. However, now he sat looking at an e-mail from them with a job attached.

  Marcus quickly continued to read.

  Marcus’s heart-rate continued to climb as his excitement grew. He read over the message again then pulled up the attachments. Thankfully he had no need to print them as there were at least two-hundred pages between the five attached documents that included a lengthy NDA, background, health, and financial check permission forms. What really made Marcus smile though was the final form. At nearly seventy pages the project overview was compelling, to say the least. How had Pilgrimage managed to hide this project from the world?

  “Lucy,” Marcus said absentmindedly. “Cancel my pick-up and go into do not disturb.”

  Lucy’s icon tilted slightly. “Are you sure this time, Master?”

  Marcus smiled faintly. “Oh yeah, I’m sure.”