Work Text:
Crunch time was officially over. All the testers resumed sleeping 8 hours a day. Thanks to Samantha’s management and care, none of them got seriously sick or burnt out in the worst of it. The game was successfully released and everybody went on a small vacation.
Everybody except game’s designer and developer.
Mr. Cheezle was excited for JP’s new, yet unreleased game. The testers were excited for it too. Which meant JP had some work to do. And only he knew it still needed a lot of work.
When the vacation days were over, the only thing JP accomplished was the conclusion that the game he’s been working on for a year had to be redone pretty much from scratch. To his dismay, he realized he made a mistake early on and nothing would work as it should with the technology he picked. Not only that, but the game was no fun to play. There was no way for him to fix all of these problems in time for the scheduled release, a date he himself insisted on setting over a year ago.
In short, shit was about to hit the fan.
JP passed Mr. Cheezle on the way to his office.
“Hey JP, good to see you!” his boss waved at him with a smile.
“Hi,” JP smiled weakly. He found himself unable to look his boss in the eye.
His heart skipped a beat when he saw Samantha come his way and pass him in the hallway. She gave him a brief glance, but kept walking and talking to Kane, one of the testers, who walked beside her. He stopped and turned to watch her leave. She hasn’t talked to him much since the Stomach Massage Incident — the one that put him through peak embarrassment that somehow turned to emotional warmth. She witnessed and touched his weakness and didn’t leave him to suffer alone, which on some deep level convinced him they were soulmates. He wanted that feeling back ever since.
Yet it seemed she went back to ignoring him the moment he was in good physical health again. When he tried to speak to her outside her office or at lunch, she always found some excuse to cut the conversation short.
JP didn’t eat much except a protein bar the first day of work. He wasn’t hungry anyway. At the end of it, he had a massive headache, no doubt brought on by dehydration. Last time he let things go this bad, it resulted in output lag, but he didn’t care.
It was then he got the bright idea that he would regret terribly days later. He would drink only soda, eat unhealthy snacks, work obsessively, let his pipeline get clogged and receive one of Samantha’s healing rituals again.
Several days later, JP sat in his office, sweaty and pale. He had to conclude that his plan worked .. a little too well. He was trying to work, but the dull ache in his gut was relentless and distracting. He could neither comfortably straighten up due to pain, nor bend forward due to bloat pressing on his lungs from below. Additionally, it has been keeping him up half the night. He was beginning to fall into exhaustion, but refused to call in sick. Samantha has not yet noticed his distress and hasn’t had a chance to intervene. He couldn’t quit until she did so.
…He was not sure he could wait long enough for it to happen though.
The dull ache soon transformed into a sharp pain in the lower left quadrant. It finally killed his concentration and reduced him to squirming and changing his position every few minutes. It’s been there for hours and nothing he attempted — going for a walk, stretching, drinking Samantha’s herbal tea — made it better. He hasn’t gone for three days and was in his fourth, and worst of all, he didn’t even feel like going. It was as if food he ate fell into a black hole and disappeared into nothingness, which made him increasingly scared. He got up, resolved to ask Samantha for help himself.
Awful thoughts circulated in his mind as he walked towards Samantha’s office.
“I did the same things… Why is it so much worse this time? What if it’s not mere pipeline stall this time? What if it’s… appendicitis? Wait, appendicitis hurts on the right side, right? Right?.. but what if it migrated?”
“Unghh..” he moaned and clutched his left side under his trenchcoat as a sharp stabbing pain intensified, then returned to its baseline dull level. His heart pounded. This one was so bad he doubled over and leaned on the coffee machine counter, shaking.
“Oh no. Was that a rupture? I think it was a rupture. This is it. I’m dying. Why did I ever think this was a smart idea?”
It was then she finally appeared. Samantha, his angel of care and healing, approached him with a look of concern on her face.
“Hey… Are you alright?” she asked.
“Samantha!..” JP exhaled. “I’m having a… digestive malfunction. Pain. I think I have appendicitis. Possibly a rupture. Can you call the ambulance?”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “Where does it hurt?” she asked.
“To the left, here..” JP explained, still holding the affected area.
“Oh, that’s most likely not appendicitis,” Samantha said, somewhat relieved, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That’s likely the same thing that happened earlier. But… crunch time is over. Have you been drinking water and eating properly as I instructed?”
JP shrunk under her inquisitive gaze. His voice cracked. “Well… I kinda… haven’t. Not really.”
“Why?” Samantha asked, looking both concerned and confused.
“I..didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I thought… if I got… sick again… maybe you’d notice me like last time,” JP winced, face red, holding back tears already threatening to show. Hearing himself say it made him feel foolish.
Samantha froze, blinking at him. Her concerned expression hardened to disappointment. “Wait… you did this on purpose?” she crossed her arms.
“Not entirely… not to begin with…” he said, but Samantha was having none of his excuses.
“All this time I’ve been trying to keep you healthy and functional, you go and do this. And for what? To orchestrate a staged “tender moment”?” she said, her voice sharpened with each word. “Unbelievable… You are so stupid.”
JP blinked. “Samantha…” he staggered back as if stabbed, feeling like the stupidest, most uncool, least competent man alive in that moment.
“You wanted to clog yourself? I’ll show you what can happen when you do,” Samantha whipped out her phone and searched up some articles. “Look.. look! If you continue like this, this could happen to you!” she shoved the phone in his face.
JP’s eyes widened in horror when he saw the diagrams. Read the article headlines. All about people whose intestines required surgery or have gotten blocked beyond repair.
“Wait… it can go back up?” he stammered.
“Yes,” Samantha smiled humorlessly. “If it gets bad enough, people literally vomit poop! Think about that while you solve this issue… on your own,” she shook her head, and turned to leave.
“She.. hates me. I messed up. She hates me now and will leave me here to rot. She will leave, and I will become a cautionary tale.”
JP couldn’t take it anymore. The pain, the fear, the failed game, and now Samantha’s disappointment all coalesced into one big ball of humiliation and grief in his throat. His lip trembled. His eyes welled up in tears until he could no longer see.
“DON’T *sob* LEAVE ME! IT—HUUURTS I— *sob* RUINED MY—GAME! I-IT KEEPS BREAKING—“ he wailed in uncontrolled sobs, barely making the words out. “S-SAMANTHAAAA EVERYTHING IS SUBOPTIMAL!”
Samantha stood with her back to him, fully intending to leave him with no comfort, but the sound of his meltdown stopped her. It was too real and filled with genuine fear to be just another childish and selfish attempt at manipulating her into giving him attention.
“Okay, fine… Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to scare him like this,” she thought.
She sighed and turned back around. He leaned on the counter, his wet face scrunched up in a miserable grimace, still doubled over with both arms wrapped around himself, and looked like he really couldn’t handle this alone.
“Hey…” she softened. “You’re alive. And you’re gonna be alright. This is a very rare side effect. I was just trying to scare you into healthy habits, okay?” she put a hand on his back.
He dared to look at her. “Y-you don’t hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” she reassured. “But you can’t do this ever again. Ever.”
“I won’t, I swear,” JP promised tearfully.
“Alright,” Samantha sighed. “Let’s fix your stomach first. …Then your priorities.”
This time, he didn’t fight it. He obeyed like a scolded child when she lead him to the couch inside her office, and locked the door behind them. Didn’t cover his face or complain of indignity as she started slow, gentle circles on his abdomen through his shirt. Instead, he immediately softened under her care and did not even react when her massaging caused his tortured gut to growl, gurgle and make other embarrassing noises. His wide, fearful eyes fluttered shut, caught between bliss and residual terror. He kept sobbing, flattened by shame, until his sobs slowly changed to hiccups.
“So.. what were you saying about ruining your game?” Sam asked carefully.
JP sniffled, eyes still closed. “It won’t be released on time. Needs a total do-over,” he whispered. “I ruined everything…”
“You didn’t ruin ‘everything’. You just released a game,” Samantha sighed. “So you need more time on the next one, that happens. It’s not the end of the world.”
JP opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, a tear running down his face into the couch. “It’s worse than that. The game sucks. It’s boring, and I have no more ideas left,” he squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed again. He finally admitted what he was afraid to admit to anyone.
“Hmm,” Samantha hummed in thought. “How long have you been producing games nonstop now?”
“4 years… I think,” JP said.
“Have you stopped to refill your mind with inspiration and new skills during that time?”
“I’m.. not sure,” JP struggled to think. He always learned things on the fly between work days, but hasn’t had the time to relax properly, watch stupid shows, play new games or make a concentrated effort to learn new technology lately.
“This might be the cause,” Samantha smiled, a sight that warmed JP’s heart. “Creativity needs fuel. If nothing is coming out, it’s often because you haven’t put anything in for a while.”
“You think so?” JP looked at Sam, hopeful.
“I know so,” she smiled again. “I’ve successfully managed teams for seven years. I can help you talk to Mr. Cheezle about it, if you want,” she allowed herself to reach a hand towards his face and wipe a tear off his cheek.
“Yes… that would be great..” he exhaled, leaning into her hand for warmth.
“Good,” Samantha smiled and switched back to rubbing his stomach. “We will do it tomorrow morning. But why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“I couldn’t let them know… I can’t stop now. If I stop… they’ll delete me,” he whispered.
“No they won’t,” Samantha corrected calmly, doing her best to decode what he was saying into human language. “You’re not a perpetual machine, JP. You can’t run on nothing…”
“Yes….” he exhaled.
Samantha chuckled under her breath. It was a truly ridiculous situation she found herself in, but she was glad it was coming to a resolution. Some color returned to JP’s cheeks. Her fingers made small circles along the length of his intestines, which gradually softened under her touch. She leaned in, looking into his eyes.
“You’re a delicate, human machine, that’s what you are,” Samantha whispered, soft smile on her lips.
“Y-yes… yes..” he sighed equal measures in pain and bliss.
“When you need help… or anything else… don’t try to orchestrate it or hide it until you implode. Please just ask directly,” she added. “Promise.”
“I promise,” JP replied. He then looked at her, tense, preparing to say something important. “… please go out with me?”
Samantha laughed. Stomach sounds accompanied his request, but he looked completely serious.
“What?”
“You said to ask directly. I am asking.”
Samantha looked at him, then down, her chest tightening.
“Well, I walked right into that one,” she thought.
“You know what,” she said. “Act like an adult for a while, and maybe then we can talk, okay?”
“Okay,” he nodded, somewhat discouraged, but hopeful.
She massaged him a while longer as he rested on the couch, the rhythmic motions seemingly putting her to sleep as much as it did him. He groaned in pain and relief when her hands gradually pressed deeper. It hurt, but with each well-placed stroke came pain relief upon every embarrassing fart and sensation of things shifting downwards. She jolted “awake” when his voice crackled to life.
“I think.. it worked. I gotta go,” he said, voice tight, and put his feet on the floor.
Samantha let go of him. “Send me a message if you need anything,” she gestured to her phone. He nodded and left for the bathroom, leaving Samantha in her office.
When he returned about twenty minutes later, his walk had a new lightness to it.
“All done?” Samantha asked.
“Yes…” he said, looking away, embarrassed. He then lifted his gaze, his eyes bore into Samantha with strange intensity. “Samantha… thank you. For not abandoning me to die of lethal impaction,” his voice wavered, as he was getting emotional midway through his “speech”. “For… defragmenting my soul. I will never forget the tenderness of your hands when they handled my gastrointestinal crisis. I… had no idea my intestines could experience joy, but here we are!.. Ahem.. anyway. I will do as you say. Drink water. Eat carrots. And ask for help when I need it. Even if you don’t go out with me. But if you ever want to… I’ll be there. Waiting.”
He finished. Samantha sat there, stunned, not knowing what to say to that. “Wow. That was… a lot. I mean, good conclusion,” she nodded in approval, smiling despite herself. “Go eat your carrots, Shakespeare.”
He smiled and nodded, then left Samantha’s office.