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SCOUT
Measuring the length left of the jungle is rather difficult while simultaneously running from rabid monkeys and bleeding out of your foot that got caught on a vine when you dropped from the sky. Of course, I don't feel any pain. How could I when it’s not real? Just simulations, although fairly decent ones for someone not trained to pick it all apart the way I am.
Being a QA tester wasn’t my first career choice, not considering my credentials. Graduated high school at 15 and college at 20 with my Master’s in Information Systems Security.Gifted,I think they call it, although nothing about the jobs I’ve had since then has really felt like a gift.
It’s a long story as to how and why I ended up in this horrible job in a crappy part of town, working a night shift on my second job of the day with burning eyes glued to a LED screen. But, I’ll skip the nitty-gritty, mostly because it’s just too damn pathetic. And it really doesn’t matter; regardless of what job I’ve gotten into, none of them have ever been able to challenge me. I guess that's what they mean by peaking at a young age. I think I peaked at 20 because it’s all been downhill from there.
Then again, maybe a challenge shouldn’t really be my priority with everything else I have to take care of. This job pays the bills, some of them, at least, and that’s what I really need to worry about. Notpersonal fulfillment,as if anyone other than the lucky few ever really gets that from their work.
In the game, I’m headed up a mountain to the monkey shrine that will win the game and save the forest from the deathly creatures trying to extinguish theEnraders, species of intelligent life in another dimension. These game devs just keep getting crazier, but their games, far too easy to beat and even easier to hack. I sigh as I grab the shrine, and all the monkeys turn into cheering Enraders.Another easy win.Time to start over for the third time tonight. It’s boring and repetitive, and it doesn’t pay nearly enough, but I remind myself that at least it payssomething.
“Scout!” A bored-sounding voice comes from the door, and I swivel in my chair, coffee cup in hand.Same, buddy.
It’s my boss, Mike, standing in the hallway. “You have a visitor.”
“Visitor?” I raise an eyebrow. I can’t really think of anyone who would come to see me. I’m too busy to have afriend group, something that I’m told is essential at my age but that I’ve always found difficult. My mom has always used terms like “withdrawn” and “standoffish” for me, and my guidance counselor always used the slightly kinder “introverted.” So even when things were okay, I was never super popular, which is basically what I’m saying.
“Yes, can he come up?”
He?Interesting. Maybe it’s someone who wants to offer me a third job.
“Okay.” I shrug and pull my headset off, letting it rest around my neck. I'm not really expecting a third job offer, although it would certainly fill in a gap that I’ve been struggling to close. For as long as I can remember, since I was able to, I’ve been providing for my mother and half-sister. Her father is some LA drug pusher who disappeared the moment my mother fell pregnant, and it was up to me to keep her sober and the two of us, now three, from ending up on the streets.
Like I said, not exactly a way to build a flourishing social life. My mom has done her best to get her life turned around after that, but it’s been a rough battle. And then there’s the cost of living for myself. In this LA economy, I might as well move to Bali and get a mansion far away from the madness of the life I somehow acquired by the luck of the draw.
I swivel back to my computer as Mike disappears, trying not to make myself anxious with thoughts of who it could be. I honestly don’t know, and that makes it somehow worse, all the way until a figure steps into the bluish glow of my screen. “Hello, Scout.”
The voice is deep and smooth, with a British accent, and I turn in my chair, standing as I switch on my desk lamp and pull myself up to my tallest height, not much, but a girl’s gotta do her best.
“Hi.” I shake his hand. His bright-green eyes are almost glow-in-the-dark, and his jet-black hair glistens in the blue light as he takes a seat. His looks are intimidating, and his commanding presence tells me this is someone of great importance. I sit down after him, and my Naruto gaming chair squeaks in the brief silence.Great.We’re allowed to bring our own chairs, and no one else in the office would think anything of it. Still, it somehow makes me feel self-conscious in front of this Adonis of a guy, who I don’t know and still hasn’t said why he’s in my office. He doesn’t mention it, though, just studies me for a moment and then back at the screen in the corner behind me.
“Congratulations.” He tips his chin at the screen, revealing my second win.
“Thank you.” My voice comes out as a nervous whisper, and I cringe, clearing my throat nervously.Who is this man?
“I’m Vincenzo San Giovanni, but you can call me Vince.” His British accent thickens as he introduces himself like he read my mind. His name isn’t British, but I’m sure there’s some story there I’m not aware of, and that, to be honest, I’m too tired and overworked to really care about.
“I’m—”
“Scout Summers. I know.” He grins affably as if we’re already friends. “Ms. Summers, can I call you that?”
“Scout’s fine.”
“Scout, I have an offer for you. One that I hope you won’t refuse.”
“Wait… are we… is thisTheGodfather?” I lean in and whisper, “Am I being scouted for the mafia?” His eyes go wide, but I don't let him speak before changing my sarcastic tone to one that’s genuinely intrigued. “How did you know my name?”
He breathes a laugh through his nose that sounds slightly relieved and leaves me genuinely suspicious.
“Look, I’m a part of an…organizationthat’s in need of a mind like yours.”
“What sort of—”
“The pay will be a modest 300 hundred.”
I narrow my eyes. “Three hundred–a week? For the whole project? You gotta be a little clearer here. I do have freelance rates for my work if that’s what you’re wanting, and–”