A message from System.

  Jim had received a message from System four hours ago and had missed it, probably while playing in the dirt of the borough planner. He almost opened it right away but felt that it would be rude to put Brett off with the zone community being in such an uproar. Jim reluctantly opened the other player’s message first.

  Jim read the friendly message from Brett, who he guessed was an adult based on the way the tell had been carefully composed. His eyes didn’t miss the ‘Read’ prompt at the top of the message. Any thoughts Jim had of just ignoring the contact evaporated. Jim’s stomach turned and the skin on his neck bunched just from the thought of breaking his, until-now, aloof position among the players.

  The game, maybe even System herself, had manoeuvred him into a more visible, more social leadership role among the Australian reptilian players. Now, the question of Why? plagued Jim. Had System subtly opened these paths for him? Had the company manipulated the game to increase his profit-making potential? Had he possessed more luck or more skill than the other players? The last seemed unlikely to Jim, but whichever option, if any, had been responsible for Jim’s shove into the limelight, he now felt compelled to interact with the outside world.

  At least he got to start with someone who owed him money. Obligation, Jim had learned in his 40ish conscious years alive, was a prison, constructed by people to trap everyone in polite and well-mannered society. Obligation prevented stronger individuals from jumping the queue. Obligation pasted smiles and false-friendship upon your face when speaking to the financial advisor. Obligation pressed the reply button when a message’s sender received a prompt that you’d read their message.

  Jim hurriedly closed the private chat and opened the zone chat. He had no interest in a drawn-out conversation about favours and debts.

  After Jim’s first post, the chat erupted into a flame of discussion and anger about mostly superficial ideas. Obligation to the consensus would, eventually, decide these things anyway. He was wholeheartedly behind abandoning Jamestown. Self-aggrandisement irked Jim and the whole idea waxed too colonial for him. A thought struck Jim and made him smile.

  This would be Anne’s problem, now.

  Jim stood still, reading his social interface screen, in the middle of a street bustling with players over-encumbered by building materials. Brett and some of the others in his guild guided a mass of players around the town hall to the northern section of town. Level 4 builder professionals shepherded stones and metals and bricks. A level 6 guild-leader divided the incoming materials into two building sites. The tall and muscular man guided the vast quantities of dull rock and ore into the building site of an enormous warehouse erected beside the river. The rapidly-growing blacksmith received only pale shining metal and speckled stone.

  The elaborate blueprints and schemes did not faze Jim or even attract his notice. System’s message had floored Jim and he now stood in a daze.