Work Text:
The noise had been bit-crushed, a heavy tune that danced with punctuation when each selection was made.
A-Type.
Level 0.
Start.
It was simple enough. Francis had the free time, and he wanted to play a simple game. There were seven pieces, each one fell into specific spots, and he had to place them properly enough that when the next pieces came, they could fill rows. It was a puzzle, as each level got harder and harder it became less of skill and knowledge and more of focus and reflex, as well as praying that it wouldn’t fail on him.
The only problem truly, had been that the only way to access this game was on the game console that rested diligently in the Foundation break rooms. The break rooms smelled like burnt coffee, not bothersome, it just meant that it smelled the same that it always did.
Francis hunched over, folding himself in one of the plastic chairs, the glow of the television screen that cast a sharp shadow on his face in the dim lighting. The controller was a simple, strong plastic, it wasn’t weak or brittle. It didn’t shatter or flake in his grasp. The buttons were worn, but still held strong from his repetitive use. He always found solace in playing such a game whenever it was his turn to play.
The blocks started falling, slowly. It was a low immersion that Francis enjoyed sinking himself into. There wasn’t much thought in how he played, they only fit in certain places- moving with an efficiency that felt natural to his hands. It was simple, making rows disappear, taking them out one after another. Francis’ blinks were brief, feeling a periphery of his person, even when he closed his eyes, still watching the screen. A part of him that told him exactly where the necessary parts belonged, sometimes it felt like he knew where to go before they appeared.
His focus was broken, back stiffening when the door behind him opened. It was probably a scientist, it was still early in the day, it HAD to be Gerald.
“You’re here?”
Francis exhaled through his nose, unanswering. He rotated a piece into place, and the speed picked up.
“Well..” Gerald stood awkwardly, lifting his coffee in cheers to Francis’ turned back, facing away from him and gluing to the screen, “Good luck with it!”
A feeling of relief relaxed his shoulders after the sound of Gerald shuffling away hit his ears.
Francis sunk back into the enjoyment of the solitude, maybe it had been a few minutes.. Or maybe much more than that, but it didn’t matter to him. He knew when each piece came, and it never took any time to know where it went, only needing to press the buttons and place it. The board never filled for long unless he wanted to slam a tetris down. It wasn’t just playing a game, it was guiding the pieces, controlling the inputs, bending the scope of the world to every movement he wanted to place. He watched, dictated, and obeyed his own will.
Francis’ thoughts were interrupted again, a more cool movement. It had to be Rights. She moved quietly, his eyes focusing on the pieces, pressing and playing. Her hand rested on the back of his chair, and anxiety heightened.
“Have you eaten today?” Her voice was bemused, interested in his progress.
“Mmh”
“Take care of yourself.”
And she left, leaving Francis to continue playing. Not every person who appeared bothered him, most just wanting their coffee, and didn’t mind him. The pieces started to come faster, and he began to notice that the music looped back around. Eventually he no longer existed just in the break room, his eyes sharpened. Francis’ mind focused on the space, each potential movement and the arrangements of every potential collapsing into a single space. Each tetrimino appeared and before it even found a bump down it was already neatly settled in the bottom of the screen, nestled and unbothered. He knew where each one went. One row, after another… after another.
Francis shuffled from his chair, moving to the ground without breaking his vision and inputs, he listened to the door open, silent but fluid and abrupt. Gears. He stood behind Francis to watch, but not for only a few seconds. He stared for the whole break.
Anxiety crept up on Francis during this, a feeling of a nervous ache in his back, forcing himself to focus over and over again, feeling eyes pry on his back as he tried to organize chaos into neatness. Gears’ presence chipped at him, feeling like a buzz in the room, and how Francis’ focus remained absolute was a surprise to even himself. The speed picked up to something that felt inhuman, the pieces almost teleporting with his input. Hours continued to pass, he was probably at the end of hour five, feeling as if something was about to happen. He could hear the door open as usual, but this time it was several people.
They were watching him.
The eyes were against him, the colors on screen constantly shifting themes, asking him questions but he couldn’t answer and he didn’t want to. He wanted to play his game. The world was his game, and the game was the only thing that mattered. His eyes kept track of the moments, each square on the grid and the eyes on his back, feeling the pattern around him, it needed to be perfect, it was perfect and it was endless.
The screen shuttered, the colors changing before breaking into an array that wasn’t typical of the game… That damn break. The break that always killed his game. The blink flushed him back into reality, unable to process what happened. The colors were warped, his score broken as the console froze.
And then silence.
“Fuck.” Francis muttered, leaning down to reset the console. His fingers pressing against his temples, knowing this would happen. Damn it.
Their stares backed off, disappearing and filtering away. Francis stood to leave, turning at the person that remained.
She said nothing during the whole ordeal. He watched quietly, just like he always did. They sat to the side, taking a distance, hands folded neatly in their lap. His presence is steady and quiet. Tolerable. Never interrupted, never intruded- observed but not bothersome. Studied, but not invasive.
“It happened again? The glitch?”
Francis wiped his chin, brushing his other hand against his uniform. “It feels like an inevitability sometimes.”
“You did really well. We can look to get a different cartridge or something.. Eventually we might find one that won’t… break.”
The tips of Francis’ lips cracked into a small smile. “If you think you can, go ahead.”
“It’s.. neat seeing you get that far. I think most of us crash pretty early on. You just.. Keep going though. Playing again next time you’re off?”
Francis rolled his shoulders, “I guess. It’s a bit..”
Francis stood straight and began to stretch, his sight retreating into his mind. The system always failed.
“It’s a bit annoying when so many people bother me. I wish I could just.” Francis moved, motioning, picking the item up and pantomiming, taking it to his room. Myriad chuckled, “Maybe in the future if you keep working you could probably leave the site and buy one.”
I don’t work here. I’m not allowed to leave.
“Maybe.” Francis scoffed, “I could probably.”
“I’ve been thinking about getting one if you wanted to pop by my area at some point to play. Then you can’t be bothered.”
Francis raised an eyebrow, “You mean it?”
“How’s… next weekend?”
“Next weekend” Francis smirked.
“Then it’s agreed.” Myriad waved, “I’ll see you next weekend.”