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Corbin arrived on site with a minute to spare and scanned his employee identification badge at the door, which acted as both a keycard and his time punch. He then set himself to working diligently, doing both odd jobs and moving hand trucks of materials between coworkers who made double his wage for half the effort. He always put forward effort. In truth, he valued his job highly. Sure, it didn’t pay the best, nor was he often thanked for the careful considerations he made, but it was something he could apply himself to. An hour into his shift, Corbin’s supervisor stopped by.
“Decided to show up today, did you?” the man, Melvin, asked with a smirk. Despite the ambiguous smile, his eyes were cold and unsympathetic.
Corbin was, perhaps, the perfect employee for a supervisor like this. He always completed his work dutifully. He never did anything on the job that could be misconstrued as not being work related. In other words, he stayed focused and kept his head low—ensuring he’d always have a place. He had never done anything that could earn himself a negative review. He needed the stability that the work provided him. Now, the very first opportunity to receive criticism was upon him since he had called off his shift on Friday, and he was prepared to hear all about it.
“Yes sir,” said Corbin. “I’m sorry to have missed Friday.” He kept his answers brief to avoid any complications and to show an air of deference to his supervisor. His meekness at work was not something innate, but a learned behavior. Corbin found, as twisted as it may seem, that the longer he acted spineless at a job, the longer he was able to keep it and therefore keep his own place and set his own terms outside of the workplace.
“I want you to work twice as hard today to make up for the missed work,” said Melvin. “Make sure you come by to see me before you leave.”
“I will, sir,” said Corbin, adding a subservient nod and smile to assuage any doubts his supervisor may have.
The supervisor did not return the gesture and instead walked onwards. Before he was fully out of eyeshot, Melvin smiled and cracked some inside joke with another person on the floor.
“It’s fine,” Corbin told himself. “Just another day at work.”
By the end of the day, Corbin felt ragged with exhaustion. It was a true blessing for him that the sleep-like state induced by Chronicle seemed to be about as restorative as sleep. He could certainly see himself binge-playing the game for quite some time while the vivid, digital world remained fresh and wonderful to him. Corbin made sure every task set before him was handled promptly. He hastily transferred pallets with a hand truck, loaded and unloaded materials, and used any second of downtime to meticulously clean and service the tools of his coworkers. The drudgery of work did not matter to Corbin, though. Nor did the aches and pains he acquired from constant activity. Sooner or later, one of his devises would take off and bring him some small fortune to work with. Then, and only then, could he afford the luxury of figuring out where his pride and comfort fit into the picture.
Corbin reported to supervisor Melvin’s cubicle desk. He always found it odd that his coworkers—with some experience in their trade skills—reported to other tradesmen who were out and working, but he reported to someone sitting behind a desk.
Corbin walked up and waited until Melvin was through with his phone call before saying, “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, yes,” said the supervisor. “You really caused us quite a few problems by not showing up on Friday.”
No one he worked with had mentioned any difficulty caused by his absence. In fact, it was common for a few of the others to not show up on a somewhat regular basis. It didn’t matter, however. He would nod and smile to keep things flowing smoothly.
“I’m terribly sorry about that,” said Corbin. “It won’t happen again.”
“It certainly won’t,” said Melvin. “Do you know how hard it is to find a job these days? There is a waitlist of people vying for your position.”
“I understand,” said Corbin, contorting his face to express his shame. “I know how important my role is here. If something doesn’t make it from point A to point B, a bottleneck will slow down production. I take my job very seriously.”
“I’m not sure you do understand,” said Melvin, “but I’m sure you will learn to. I’ve already had you taken off the schedule. We can’t have someone prone to flaking out whenever they feel like taking a three-day weekend. This is a business, after all.”
Corbin was speechless. He had kept his head so low to the ground this time that he was certain he wouldn’t be fired. He worked so hard for such a small amount of money. What more could his supervisor hope for? Corbin closed his eyes and inhaled slowly and deeply; as he did, he thought about the people waiting for him in another, nearby world. He thought about the backbreaking effort he put into his job on a daily basis. He thought about how Melvin had asked him to work twice as hard knowing full well that the man intended to have him fired. For the first time in what felt like years, Corbin found the weight of responsibility flutter off his shoulders. As though a switch had been flipped, he found that he simply didn’t care.
This was not the first job Corbin had been fired from, but in those few instances, he had learned from his mistakes and felt as though he had become a savvier employee for his next position. This time there was nothing to be gained. He was being told he lost his job for missing a single day of work which he had given notice for. It didn’t make any sense.
“Yeah… I’m really lucky,” Corbin thought to himself mocking his own situation. The game had it wrong, Corbin was not lucky. He never had been. But then, maybe he needed to rely less on luck and take matters into his own hands.
“So, then you’re firing me?” asked Corbin.
“You’ve only got yourself to blame,” said Melvin. Corbin thought, for the first time, that the supervisor looked awfully small despite his round frame.
“Because I missed a day of work?” Corbin sought clarification.
“With an attitude like that, it’s a surprise you’ve been here this long,” said Melvin.
Corbin couldn’t help but grin. He chuckled. The chuckle and grin merged and transformed into a full, mouth-agape, hearty, and unnerving laugh.
“What’re you lau—” started Melvin, but he was cut off as Corbin ceased his laughing, locked a serious gaze on the ex-supervisor, and raised one finger abruptly as he had seen the cart riding sorceress do, so recently. Corbin stared past his upraised finger at the surprised man, then, after a moment cracked a smile once again.
Corbin turned his back on the situation. He shook his head as he walked out the door, leaving the unsettled Melvin in his wake. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had put up with that weasel of a man for so long. Today’s autocab ride home would feature a stop to pick up a big, juicy hamburger, he decided.
C
HAPTER 19:
T
HE
G
RIND
With his eyes closed, Dakkon could hear the sounds of players pursuing one another for groups and the clinks of bustling commerce. He could also, with no great effort, smell the increasingly-familiar aroma of harvested krimmer glands. Despite the foul scent, Dakkon was excited to be back in the world of Chronicle. He opened his eyes and was greeted by the busy southern end of Tian. After accounting for his detour to get a delectable double-stacked burger, his commute time, and his time spent working, he had been out of the game for a little over 10 real world hours. That amounted to about three and a half days in the game that he’d missed. He had messages waiting for him.