Two more shots to the creep’s head and it was done. His body tumbled apart in a mess of pixelated blocks as a menu flashed before my eyes. It jiggled and blinked a few times before finally settling in. This simple issue showed the programmer’s lack of competence making games with this engine.

  “New Game +,” the menu displayed in blazing letters.

  I clicked the No option and watched the digitized castle fa?ades fade from the two-story buildings around me. The menu projected by my enhanced contact lenses flashed another alert, this one linked to my Merge rather than the game. My Merge was the best cellular device on the market, and thankfully the company I worked for provided it. This premium piece of tech would’ve cost allot of money if I had to buy it myself.

  The cursor followed my pupils as I hovered my vision over the Open option. It was an email from the guy who made this glitch-addled mess, asking for an after-action report. I blinked through a few more accessory menus until I reached my calendar, and suggested a meeting for next week. I added a note expressing in my most professional manner, that the report wouldn’t be pretty. While it functioned decent enough to complete, it had too many simple issues to approve for release. I’d been fixing Augmented Reality games for seven years as a for-hire System Admin. Long enough that I didn’t have to hide my opinions like the rookie techs.

  Holstering my Debug Pistol against the magnetic puck on my hip, I found a long, knee-height cinder block and took a seat. They’d set this game in a line of abandoned apartments. Their programming allowed anyone using the right AR equipment to see the same projected visuals I had. It was common for indie-devs to buy a place like this, since they didn’t have the cash to get better real estate. Unlike most of the seasoned techs, I liked taking ones made by startups. The teams were usually small – maybe ten at most – and you didn’t have to bullshit through a bunch of HR or Management groups. Some guys liked having easy fix gigs at the large companies, which led to stable full-time employment.

  I knew I could make more as a contractor for OST. They ran a hybrid model where you could choose your own work, but still hooked you up with great gear. The downside of contracting however, was that you only got paid when you finished the job. It didn’t phase me though; I liked the challenge.

  Unzipping a hand-sized pouch on my tac-vest, I took out my Merge and scrolled through the home screen until I found my return beacon app. Tapping it caused a long red light to shoot skyward for a few moments, giving the shuttle-airship my location. Taking a protein bar from my pouch next, I snatched a hefty chunk with my first bite. It had been a long day debugging this game. Thankfully the substation wasn’t far, so my transportation arrived only a few minutes after I finished my food. The ship wasn’t much bigger than a standard SUV with a chunky, slate-gray exterior. Four thick legs popped out, two on each side, all jetting flames from round holes at their base, ensuring a smooth descent.

  Hefty clouds of white dust whirled about as it landed. The hatch opened, and a tall man with a pot-belly stood at the entrance. He wore a dark-blue OST baseball hat, and the standard issue black jumpsuit. Halfway up the ramp, I recognized who it was.

  “Hey, Russ,” I said cheerfully.

  “Good to see ya, kid,” he replied.

  Russ had been running a transport ship for OST since I started, and was likely the longest tenured employee. Some joked he’d been doing it before the company started, and they just built the thing around him. I liked hanging out with the old timers like Russ, they always had good stories for the ride back.

  “Any scrapes from that last gig?” he asked as I walked past him.

  “Naw,” I replied, taking one of the two available seats. “My feet will be sore from having to walk all over that complex though.”

  Russ raised an eyebrow. “No fast travel?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think these guys could code auto-adjusting landscapes like that. They had a hard time keeping their menus in-check.”

  Russ huffed, shaking his head as he approached the driver’s seat. “Not sure why anyone signs up to debug these indie games.”

  “It keeps you employed,” I joked.

  He shrugged, flicking a few switches on the dashboard. “Big companies with all the manpower should sift through those. Guys with your skill should be resolving the high-end stuff, polishing the best of the best.”

  “You get to see more of the actual game running ops for indies,” I replied, clicking my shoulder strap into place. “There’s some cool Triple-A stuff, but they have so many people working on those that you’ll get stuck fixing one room for an entire project.”

  He tilted his head in silent agreement. “Fair point,” he replied, flipping a few switches to ready the ship. “You got your belt on?”

  “Yea, I’m good,” I answered.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  He snatched a large handle slowly shoving it forward to engage the jets. I looked out the window next to me as we ascended skyward, watching the large concrete buildings shrink beneath us. Once we reached the appropriate airspace, I could hear the mechanical whirring as the four jet-legs turned on their axel, sending us forward. I continued staring outside, this time at a cluster of skyscrapers far-off in the horizon. Those buildings were in Chushin, the largest city in our nation. The office park we left behind was in an industrial area known as Tetragon.

  Ten minutes passed before we reached the substation, consisting of three four-story towers linked together by sky-bridges. We landed on a flat concrete lot reserved for OST employee vehicles. System Admin’s like me were contractors, and we parked in a publicly accessible lot near the main entrance. I gave Russ a firm pat on the shoulder and thanked him before stepping out the open hatch.

  The metal bay door to the substation slid open as I approached, sensing my keycard. After striding through a few hallways, I eventually reached the locker room. My spot was a few rows down in the middle. I took a seat on a bench and kicked my boots off before taking a moment to stretch. A few joints popped as I adjusted my posture. Leaning forward I rested my arms on my knees, then pulled my necklace from inside my shirt to let it hang freely.

  “Hey, Jin,” a friendly voice called. “I didn’t know you were a Founder?”

  It was a first-year admin, Elgin, and he was referring to the pendant hanging from my neck, which was a circle with a spike driven through it. My parents raised me as a Foundationalist, a religion worshiping – I’m sure you can guess – the god of foundation.

  “Yea,” I replied. “I went to Founder school up until university.”

  “Hmm,” Elgin hummed, nodding. “I grew up one too,” he said, extending a fist.

  I half-smiled, bumping my fist against his. He was taller than me by at least a foot, and had a thick frame that almost burst out of his jumpsuit.

  He leaned against a nearby locker, crossing one ankle over the other. “Me and a few of the guys are gonna grab drinks, you want to join?”

  I shrugged. “Let me check the job board and I’ll text you. How soon you guys leaving?”

  Elgin hung his head, smiling. “Always crushing code, Jin. What do you need all that money for if you aren’t spending it?”

  I chuckled. “I’ve got a plan.”

  Elgin stood up straight, stretching. “Alright. Well, if you want to come, we’ll be there for a bit. But text me either way, some of the guys might stay till close hoping you’ll show up.”

  “Sounds good,” I replied.

  After changing out of my gear, I left the locker room and rounded the corner to a large rectangular area. It was lined with a few computer kiosks on both sides, and a large screen in the back, with new alerts and messages scrolling past. Just under the screen sat a young woman behind a curved desk, typing and clicking away.

  “Anything good hit the board, Himari?” I asked, waving as I approached.

  She looked up from her desk, smiling. “Most of them wouldn’t excite you, Jin,” she replied. “However,” she continued, putting her head down to type. “I think you’ll find this one interesting.”

  I felt my Merge buzz as I retrieved it from my pocket. I opened the alert to find an after-action report on a game another Admin had started. I swiped past the introductory pages, getting straight to the actual meat of it.

  “It says when Mason tried debugging this, he broke his leg?” I noted aloud. “I’ll have to text him.”

  Himari pushed her glasses back in place before typing through a few menus on her computer. “I can send a card to his hospital bed if you’d like?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve got his number; I’d rather text him myself. Say,” I continued, scrolling through a few more pages. “This only got put back on the board this afternoon, but it says Mason stopped last week?”

  “Yea,” she replied, brushing her long black hair off her shoulder. “It might have been the injury. OST doesn’t want to lose too many Admins.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve seen worse issues than this. It seems odd, wait…” I paused, my eyes catching something. “They took it down and did some of their own QC before putting it back in the queue?”

  “Does that make it more interesting?” she asked.

  “Definitely,” I replied, continuing to scroll through the report. “It looks like this team has some decent backing behind it, despite not being owned by a major publisher,” I reached the description for the game, deciding to read it aloud. “Omen: A class-based shooter with progression and story choices. Only enter if you have the guts to survive. Hmmm,” I huffed. “The tagline could use a tune-up, it’s pretty generic.”

  She smiled, crossing her arms and leaning back in her padded, leather office chair. “Should I offer it to someone else?”

  “No,” I replied, smiling. “Put it on my board and I’ll head out tomorrow,” I answered, sliding my Merge into my back pocket.

  Turning on my heel, I waved as I strode out of the room. “See you later, Himari.”

  Winding through several halls lined with meeting rooms and cubicles, I reached the front entrance. As I pushed open one of the glass double doors, my Merge buzzed. It was a text from Elgin.

  ELGIN - You gonna join us?

  ME - Yea, I’m leaving now. Which bar are you guys at?”

  He dropped a link with directions to Aether, a trendy spot a few miles from the substation.

  “I should’ve asked before I committed,” I muttered under my breath.

  It was one of the more expensive places nearby, and since most of the guys I worked with were single, they had a better chance meeting a girl at a place like that. I tapped the link Elgin sent as I opened the door to my car, sending the directions to the large screen at the center of my dashboard. I drove a two-seat sports car that I had repainted in deep red. As I sat, the lights popped up from the hood and another strip above my windshield lit as well. As soon as the thruster felt my hand close around it, the engine started. I’d paid extra to have the ignition ID package added. I’m not someone who likes tossing money around, but for a car, it’s worth it. I shoved the thruster forward and raced out of the parking lot, following the nav beacon on my screen.

  “I’ll just grab a couple with the guys before I head home and research this game more,” I thought aloud, switching lanes to pass a large truck. “If someone as seasoned as Mason broke his leg fixing it, then I need to be ready.”