Nano Bytes - A Collection of Short SciFi Stories

Arethmore by MadMikeMarsbergen

"What you should do, if you were smart, is go down to a bar and socialize."

"I don't like bars."

"It ain't about liking it, it's about doing it. That's how I met your mother." Dad stomped off, swearing under his breath about his "useless son."

Feeling his eyes well up with tears, his brow furrowed, all Harris wanted to do was shout "Maybe that's why you're divorced!" But he didn't, couldn't. He was tired of the humiliation at his father's hands, the loneliness, the longing for love. But what was he to do? He didn't know the first place to look. People at bars weren't looking for love—at most, they merely wanted lust. He sighed. Really, all he could do was escape.

Making sure the mask wasn't damaged, he slipped it back over his head and returned to Arethmore.

2

After completing a quest to clear out a cave of goblins that'd been harassing the town of Windethspeake, Harris returned to town to receive his reward. The quest had been given by Randolph, the tavern owner, a hairy man with bad skin and burst capillaries on his nose. He didn't say much, and seemed to prefer communicating more with hastily scrawled notes than words.

"I have slayed the wretched goblins," Harris said, getting into character.

"Forsooth," said Randolph. He spat into a metal mug and polished it with a rag caked in yellow-brown grime.

"I am here to collect my deserved reward."

"Forsooth."

"Your previous note suggested you would be the one to grant me such a reward, dear barkeep."

"Forsooth."

Harris had to laugh. Randolph was such a quirky supporting character. "Perhaps you have another note for me, which will tell me where to find my reward?"

"Forsooth." Randolph set the mug next to the others he'd "cleaned," and dipped a quill in ink. He scribbled on a flimsy sheet of parchment and then blew on it to dry it a little. He pushed the paper forwards and grabbed a new mug.

Reading the note, Harris saw his reward was apparently behind the tavern, jammed deep into a bale of hay. He thanked Randolph and headed out.

The tavern's rear had a single bale of hay under an overhanging roof, and a cow stood mooing near its water tank, a bucket beside. Harris jammed his steel gauntlet deep into the bale and pulled out a small brown leather sack. He looked inside and saw it was full of gold coins. While questing, he'd managed to upgrade his sword and had also found a knapsack-like shoulder bag, so he poured his coins into a pocket he'd dedicated solely to currency.

And then she appeared.

The beautiful red-haired woman with the green gown—from the box and splash screen—in the flesh. Well, digital flesh, though the game's graphics were amazing.

"Oh, hello," she said, smiling, upon seeing him. She went over to the cow, pulled up a stool to sit on, and started to milk it. "You're Harris, right? Harris Moore?"

In the real world, a look of confusion spread across Harris' face. He'd never played a game with characters who spoke your full name like that—normally they would call you "hero," or something equally generic. "Yes? How did you know? Has my reputation for heroism already preceded me?"

The girl laughed. "Oh, no. I know you from somewhere else, Harris. My name's Gwen. Gwen Logan. Ring a bell?"

"Should it?"

"Hmm, maybe not just yet," she said.

"Did we go to the same school?"

"Nope. We met later on..." Gwen's hands worked the udders.