CHAPTER 8
JACKSON
“People aren’t happy,” Pete tells me toward the end of the following day. Like I already don’t know that.
This morning, I massively disrupted the workflow on new content by telling my design team we’re reworking Emerald Cove as a roleplaying zone. Now, the artists are scrambling for RP-friendly areas to insert within the existing level. And my dungeon designers are struggling to fit the Cove creatures into their lineup.
“I know,” I tell him. “It’ll be more work. But it will be a better experience for the users.”
“The board will freak if the overtime gets out of hand.”
“Then they can fire me,” I snarl. “I went public because I had to. The servers were going to fail, and the company was going to burn. You remember that, Pete. When we thought it was all going to be for nothing. I did it forsurvival, not so we could bleed our customers dry.”
Pete looks at me like he’s shocked to hear these words coming out of my mouth. Once, this never would’ve surprised him. Itwas the sort of thing we used to say all the time, without thinking anything special about it. It was simply who we were, at our core. It was our identity.
“Fair enough,” he murmurs. “But remember, things are different now. Just be careful.”
“I will.”
I work late that night, hunkering down with the artists to get an idea of what the new Emerald Cove will be like. The dungeon team has an idea for creating a new dungeon underwater, out of the sight of the role players, with the creatures unable to reach the surface.
I’m buzzing as I drive home, desperate to tell Dakota what we’ve been working on. When I message her and she doesn’t respond, my gut tightens.
Half an hour passes, a full hour, almost two. In the end, I decide to go to bed. We didn’t plan to play together tonight. She has a life. Her streams, friends, family, and other plans. I can’t expect she’ll just be there, ready and waiting, whenever I need her.
But still, a thought burns through me.
Who the fuck is she with? Is it a plan?
I send her a message for the morning.
TheRealCreator: Tried hitting you up tonight. Would love to see your name pop up on text, maybe we should exchange numbers? Jack x
I switch off my computer and try to get some sleep.
The following lunchtime, I’m supposed to be reviewing the furniture pieces created by the art team. But Dakota’s stream is too distracting. She texted me early this morning, saying she was doing a special stream for viewers in other time zones, meaning she had to get an early night.
DakkyDuck: I hope you didn’t miss me too much.
TheRealCreator: I fell asleep in a puddle of tears. But other than that, I’m okay.
DakkyDuck: Meet at the Cove later instead?
TheRealCreator: Hell yes, beautiful.
Now, she’s doing an impression of a streamer she has a friendly rivalry with. This streamer is one of thosee-girlswho goes cross-eyed and makes childlike noises for the apparent enjoyment of her viewers. Dakota does it, then rolls her eyes, laughing.
“Remember, everybody, this is all in good fun. If I really had a problem with character quirks, I’d have to delete half my personality.”
I chuckle.
TheRealCreator: If you did that, I’d have to program you back into existence.
I watch for the moment she glances down. Sees my text. Her poker face gives little away, but I can see little flutters at thecorners of her mouth and eyes. She swallows a little too hard. A flush rises on her cheeks.
She texts back a few minutes later during a loading screen.
DakkyDuck: You’re making it hard to concentrate. Aren’t you supposed to be working on our private place?