Chương 11: Chapter Ten

Once the groceries were away and I was properly caffeinated it was time to get this apartment into shape. I decided to start with the curtains. I took each of the mustard curtains out of their packages and wrinkled my nose. Sitting cross legged on the floor, with my box of tissues nearby I reached into the code and began to manipulate the color. First I nudged the temperature, removing the warmth in favor of cool tones.

Next I nudged the tint, slowly shaping the symbol until the curtains had transformed into a brilliant emerald. I experimented a little with the way it absorbed or reflected light and after over an hour I sat back and admired curtains that could have been made of gemstones. They glistened in the afternoon light. I went ahead and hung them up and stood back to admire them. The green paired with the blue walls already gave my apartment an entirely different feel. I added the plants.

Smaller ones on the shelf and window sill. The larger one with the to-be flower sat in the corner. I'd never before owned a plant but this seemed like the right lighting according to the tags that came with each plant. I took down my Nicolas Cage portraits to replace them with my new art prints. I set Nicholas on my table next to the picture of me and Sarah at graduation that had been on my desk at work. After adding the pillows to the couch I stepped back.

It still looked like an apartment that hadn't quite been lived in, but at least now it was closer to my style. I frowned. Something was missing. I took the portrait of Nicholas in his old school military uniform and found a new spot for him, right above the couch where he could live in all his infamy forever. There. Now it felt like home. All that was left was setting up the new computer. Even just opening the box dampened my mood.

I logged into my cloud account and it began downloading the apps and documents from my profile. Fortunately for me, even if they wiped my work computer all of my documents and progress, non confidential of course, was stored in my personal cloud account. It was always good to have a back up just in case. I logged into my email. The work one I was locked out of but my personal email was filled with unread emails. Apparently, a week of not opening email had consequences.

I had multiple emails from [email protected] but before I opened them I went through and deleted all of my spam emails, checked my paperless bills, and tried to waste time on advertisements I had no interest in. Finally, I worked up the courage and opened the first email. It was a formal recap of the conversation. Next was an email about what being on leave meant, what and who I was allowed to contact or access. Leave would be without pay but benefits would continue through to the end of the month.

As I skimmed the ringing in my ears returned. My eyes seemed to blur and the words became harder and harder to read. I rubbed my eyes and it became clear to me that it wasn't a focusing issue, or my eyes watering. The pixels of the screen were revealing more than they appeared. If I stopped fighting it, it became static and then started to resolve. This was far more dense and complex than the physical objects I had been training with. A language within a language within a language.

So small and infinitely complex that I could barely concentrate. I'd have to deal with this later. I minimized my email and opened up my bank account. The login screen had gone back to looking normal. Username, password and the little button that said, 'Remember Me'. I figured it was safe and so I logged in and navigated to my account summary. I'd spent far too much on my shopping excursion. I was fairly frugal, which was how my car and student loans were both paid off.

And the sight of all of the spending made my stomach tighten. The ringing returned and with it so did the static. I'd be on leave indefinitely without pay. All those years of saving and skimping and working well beyond my forty hours a week. I'd almost never used my PTO days, never called in sick and they didn't even ask me what was happening. The numbers in my checking account stopped being numbers and became code.

Dense intricate code that connected to other code that connected to servers that connected to the financial systems the world depended on to continue to go around. It was beautiful but also made my head ache. I'd adjusted colors of things, real life things that you could touch and hold and even write with. This was just a number on a screen, not even tied to something tangible. Just a value in a database that was just a visual representation of a chunk of code.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. I focused on my balance, $280. 21. I could see the individual digits now each one was it's own cluster of symbols. There was the one that controlled the color, I shaped it and the zero became red. The pressure behind my eyes built but I made it through without even a bloody nose. Now, what if I changed the value of one of the digits. I looked at the shape of the two next to it's neighbor in the cents position.

I began pushing the shape of the one to look more like the two. Pain lanced through my skull and my stomach heaved. The harder I pushed the worse it became until I sat back panting. The numbers on the screen had shifted. $280. 22. It wasn't quite the massive adjustment if you thought about it in pure profit, but I'd managed to adjust a value on my screen. I logged out and back in to see if the value had truly changed. $280. 22. I logged in on my phone, almost in disbelief. $280. 22.

I sat there for a few minutes relishing in my accomplishments and sitting back. I decided to change the color of the zero back to black, mostly because it looked so out of place. And then I decided to try something bigger. What if I just duplicate the zero. Once I psyched myself up I dove back in. I memorized the shape of the zero, the feel of it and between the decimal place and the existing zero I began to weave another zero.

Drawing from memory and the reference to the immediate left I worked in meticulous detail. When I finally let go and allowed it to exist as more than just a shape in my imagination the nausea rolled. Blood dripped down my face but I wasn't thinking about grabbing a tissue because what I saw had taken my full attention. $2800. 22 LEVEL UP"No fucking way." I sat back in my chair, heart pounding. Then, I knew my body was mad as hell and I took off to the bathroom.

When I returned I was still slightly clammy and nauseated but not nearly as sick as the blanket incident. I had been logged out due to inactivity and so I logged back in. $2800. 22 There were no alarms going off, no police busting down my door. The only thing that was there on the screen was my bank account and an additonal zero that hadn't been there before. The ethical implications were—complicated at best. I was essentially counterfeiting money. Creating currency out of thin air. That was illegal.

That was probably some kind of federal crime. That was— All I'd done was create a zero. I'd looked at a screen, hadn't even touched my keyboard. I looked at a screen and a zero appeared. Who could fault me for that. Even if I was being actively recorded and monitored no one would see anything other than a woman who was panicking over her overspending and then—and then she probably misread her account balance.

I grabbed my new journal and left a page prior to and after copying down my level one and level two experiences from the old notebook began to write down the next level. Level 3: Abilities: -Code vision -Adjust color levels -Digital manipulation Symptoms: -Nausea -Headaches -Nosebleeds -Vomitting Triggering Event: -Creating a zero in the ones place of the bank account balance Questions to answer: -What the fuck? -Why me? -Who is the level up voice? -Is life a simulation?

-Can I activate the voice or get it to respond? -If I change something does it change forever? -Who else can see the code? I hadn't answered any of the above questions so I went ahead and left them I went ahead and added a few more. -How do I tell Kate? -How much can I add without getting caught? -How do I use this to catch Daniel and I didn't know how to finish that question. And what? What did I want. I didn't really want my job back. What did revenge look like?

I wasn't versed on what any of that looked like so I decided to leave it. I looked back at my computer and grimaced at the dried blood on the brand new track pad. Maybe I should get some iron pills. I grabbed a paper towel and with the smallest amount of water I delicately cleaned it off. Now that that was done I wanted to try again. Afterall, what was another zero? The room spun and the nausea and headache were all present but like previously not nearly as bad as the first time.

And once it was over I sat back relatively pleased with myself. $28000. 22 Twenty-eight thousand dollars. I had twenty-eight thousand dollars. I had more than enough to not have to worry about groceries or bills for several months. The concerns that had been pressing on me since Rebecca's sickly sweet voice had summoned me to Conference Room B were finally fading into the distance. Now, I needed to see what else I was able to change.