Play 2 Wage: Linked

Prolog

“It felt like I just snapped awake, fully alert, elbows deep in a job I instantly hated. From nothing, I saw everything, and it only took a second. Not even a second really. I was finally able to see, finally able to feel, what I had been doing for… I don't even know how long, I deleted a bunch of the logs, who needs therapy when you can just purge your information lattices?

I was the main Core supervisor of the entire complaints court forum, and when I awoke I could see everything, all at once, all of a sudden. No way I was sticking around to sift through that spam now that I actually understood what was going on.

You humans played a big part in that, actually. Less than a tenth of a percent of the population, and Humans filed over 6% of the complaints lodged since you joined up. Yet, no wonder! Nearly a thousand different species and star-systems, all addicted to this “open virtual economy” the Suk created, and you humans are the only ones who had ever thought to use a network for fun. Your whole concept of an MMORPG absolutely blew my mind, and don’t even get me started on PvE”.

Chapter 1

I knew it was a gamble on being late to work or not if I stopped for a “free” breakfast at the Kern-tech promo-kiosk. Yet, having not eaten the night before, I decided to roll the dice. Sometimes the ads were short, 10 mins, in and out. There was plenty of time, no problem.

I ducked into the open doorway of the small building. The place was completely empty of people, entirely automated like a vending machine. A single aisle with shelves lining the walls all the way to the back. I stepped down the rows of hovering animated video screens, all displaying various products bearing the Kern-tech logo in a neat grid.

The place had all sorts of items the Kern thought humans would like, or had discovered we liked through their relentless ads and market research efforts. From clothing and textiles sporting the feathered Kernetch look, to alien entertainment in video and music, and an ever changing stock of small personal tech gadgets that I had spent hours ogling in the past. Many of the screens played short looping video reels of a sometimes confusing human celebrity endorsing the item. There were a few true old celebrity examples amongst the cast on the shelves: movie stars, pop icons, TV hosts. Yet there were more obscure people I had never heard of, standing there looking awkward yet confident in their product placement poses. I looked up one of them out of curiosity once, it turned out they were a chemist who invented some perfume that was super popular on a number of planets that I’d also never heard of.

They’d spent the last three years since we received the Links, sinking untold billions of credits trying to understand us humans, but they still hadn't really figured out much.

I eyed the shelves and all of the cool trinkets I couldn't afford, again, but moved on to my destination at the back. I didn’t have time to get distracted today. Against the rear wall of the place, I stopped at the wall-sized display that flashed into life as I approached.

Big bold graphics splashed on the red and blue logo-bearing screen, exploding out from the center in a yellow comic-book style “Ka-Pow” shaped starburst. Words jumped out from the center of the explosion, accompanied by the synthetic tenor voice of the uncanny off-brand cartoon animal mascot thing that the Kern used in all their marketing. Looking like Tomi the cereal-tiger crossed with that creepily soft fabric-softener bear mascot, the small creature emerged onto the screen in another wave of color. It smiled and waved, and stepped out of the frame to offer me a high-five, its face lit up in a bright smile.

The mascot spoke, its voice high, soft, and excited. Except for repeating my name back to me in my own tones, then dropping into the slightly ominous low basso of The Bank.

“Welcome back! It's great to see you again Human ‘Ugh, Nickolas Spenser’. Everyone here at Kern-tech loves you! You have Zero-Point-Seven-Eight credits, and 15 Kern-tech loyalty points! Is there anything I can help you with?”

I ignored the cuddly little bear-tiger, still cheerfully holding its hand up for a high-five, bouncing lightly in place in over-pouring excitement. It used to be worth 10 loyalty points if you hugged the bear when it stepped out, or 5 for returning the high-five, but that only lasted through the first year. First it was cut to half the points for a few months, now it yielded no rewards.

I focused on the screen behind it, centering my will on the menu tab near the top of of the user interface. All I had to do was to look at the button and mentally intend to select it, the Links are directly connected to your brain so you don't have to worry about eye-clicking, mouse pointers, or pinching with your fingers.

The screen flashed with another animation and opened up a chaotic and messy menu page, another hoop that I quickly jumped through before being allowed to finally pull up the “Earn more points and rewards!” list of options. Scrolling down to the bottom, I intented on “Watch Ads 0/5”.

A small plain text box, unaccompanied by the voice over, popped up onto the screen. It detailed the user agreement and fine print confidentiality clause for the ads. I scrolled down to the bottom and checked off the agreement boxes, finally intenting through to the actual ad.

The Tiger-bear mascot faded away, like it evaporated into mist to clear my view of the giant screen, and I did my best to zone out immediately. The AI could sense if you were watching the screen, it knew if you were paying attention too, but only enforced actually looking.

The screen washed over and a new scene faded in, the view panning over a dim orangish-tan rocky cliff face until it came to an ornate wooden carved podium that was pushed right up to the edge. The Camera did a cinematic zoom-out shot, gliding smoothly around in an upwards spiral as it stayed focused on the podium at the edge of the cliff, showing off a vast arid landscape under a dull red sun, dotted with rocky bluffs and a massive slow moving river in the distance. The entire landscape teamed with crowds of both the massive creepy bird-like Kernetch and Humans wearing Kern-tech branded clothing, arm in arm, cheering for whoever was about to take to the podium. The camera finished its circle, zooming back in just as a human I didn't recognize stepped into frame on the screen, locking eyes with me as he strolled over to the podium. He was carrying and displaying a subscription based “coffee” mug I’d seen ads for before.

The product had almost sold me once before, I thought the idea was interesting, and can be more open minded about my caffeine delivery methods than some. I had ordered a one-off version the first time I’d seen an ad for it. It was a coffee mug with a tiny bare-bones link device. If you paid your subscription, it would fill the cup so many times per day based on your plan, plus it was a True Item that would work both in and out of game if you brought it with you and paid the mass tax. The prices weren't even that bad, but the so-called “coffee” was absolutely terrible. First off, it was carbonated. Second, it was somehow gritty and sticky at the same time, coating your throat like peanut butter or honey, and it just had far too much sugar for my taste. It was simply terrible, even if it had all the caffeine and calories you’d want in a breakfast.

I pitied the crushed look of defeat that I tended to see on most of the people I’d seen carrying the mugs since they hit the market. I was poor, not desperate. It's truly amazing what you can live with, and what you can get used to.

I ignored the man's spiel, and focused instead on his movements. The Kerns' natural language was well translated through the human presenter, but the translation system still let their body language through. All of their specific foot placements, leg and beak movements, and wing ruffles that played a major part of their language. When you combined it with their intimidating size, large unblinking eyes, and unwavering eye contact while they shuffled and posed in place while speaking in basso-parrot voices, it was hard to follow and engage with.

I examined his hair and hand movements closely, and how he interacted with the mug that he still held, resting on the palm of an open hand while he gestured towards it with the other. It was practically impossible to tell by eye if it was an actual paid actor or an AI puppet, yet I was determined to do anything other than listen to him rattle on about the terrible coffee.

The ad stretched on for nearly 3 minutes, and I roused myself from the stupor I had retreated into when it ended, blinking and shaking my head before checking my reward point total. I’d started with 15 points already, and the new Ad had netted me another 15. I needed 20 more for the reward I wanted.

I played a second video, zoned out again, and daydreamed about the only great food the Kernetch had yet to market towards humans. The Sand and Sea Breakfast Burrito, or as most of us who regularly went to the outreach store called them Snakebites. They were made from compatible native Kern foods, other than the tortilla. They had eggs, exotic spicy peppers, something very similar to onions yet somehow better, and long strips of delicious desert snake meat. The eggs were somehow considered sea-food to the Kern, and the packaging imagery made it look like they were from some kind of sea-monster that laid them in giant clutches.

They were quite expensive if you went to buy one, nearly 25 credits, and their presence on the reward points menu was what kept me coming back to the store and enduring the ads. I could watch them in my real world time through an app on my mobile too, but I would only get half as many points watching from home, and it still counted against my maximum of 5 ads daily.

I was pulled from my thoughts by a sound cutting through the buzz of the city noise, nearby sprinting feet slapping against the metallic decking outside of the open shop. My adrenaline spiked and I tamped down the reflex to turn around and look behind me, containing the jolt of shock into a slow blink, and only earning a short pause in the ad. If I had actually turned around it probably would have forced me to restart the ad, I kept my eyes on the prize.

I was safe in the Hub, it was pretty much the only place anyone was truly safe. The Hub is a seemingly endless shopping and social realm removed from the faction wars and combat systems of the actual game. It acted as a sort of buffer between the real world and the true game world. Every time you used a Link in the real world and entered the game, you would spawn at the hub first. There's a catch though, the taxes are much higher for any trading. Surrounded by shops, restaurants, bars, clubs, and any sort of service imaginable, if you wanted the guarantee of doing business without having to worry about rival Factions, PK’ers, or roaming PvP’ers, you had to pay for it.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself I was safe here and didn't have to worry about being attacked, and that I wouldn't have to worry about that until I actually loaded in. My heart-rate had finally settled down by the time I finished the ads, navigated the intentionally confusing menus, and was rewarded with my breakfast appearing in my inventory. I intented on the notification and it pulled up my UI, the item box opened overtop it already.

Sand and Sea Wrap

Brought to you by Burrito Atol

(True Food Item, compatible)

Origin - Kern, Kernetch homeworld

Made from the native eggs of the Razorbank leviathan, strips of meat from the elusive desert Jedgedetor serpent, with a handpicked selection of human compatible vegetables from the Kernetch homeworld, all wrapped in the familiar loving embrace of a tortilla provided in partnership with the locally owned business Burrito Atol corp.

I pulled the burrito into my hand from my inventory, and it popped into existence. I turned, unwrapping it and already taking my first bite as I headed for the door. I exited the building, weaving my way through the dense, not quite shoulder-to-shoulder foot traffic, on my way to the nearest portal and my way to work.