Cure for the Common Universe by Christian McKay Heidicker Page B

an idiot.
    â€œHey, Miles,” Meeki said. “You want me to grab you some cross-stitching materials so you can start earning points?”
    â€œOh, um, that would be great,” I said.
    â€œToo bad. I’m not your slave.” She hit the punching bag again.
    Fezzik poked his head back into the room. “Fury Burds mayor?”
    â€œYeah?” Soup said.
    â€œWould you give Miles the tour?”
    Before I could protest, a smile burst across Soup’s face, and he ran up to me.
    â€œWelcome to V-hab!” he said, throwing wide his arms.
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    â€œGet it?” he said, poking my stomach fat. “V-hab. Like, rehab for video games?”
    â€œI get it,” I said, brushing his hand away.
    Soup cracked up, sucking in laughter like he was having a seizure.
    â€œIf you need anything, anything at all, just say, ‘Soup, I need . . .’ and then fill in whatever you need.”
    I need a million points, I thought.
    Soup patted my arm. “Don’t worry. Everyone’s a grouchy cow on their first day.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you while you’re here.”

Save Point
    A fter Soup’s exhaustive tour of the Nest (“And this is the thread drawer, where we keep different colors of thread, like yellow and purple and black and . . .”), a woodpecker rattled through the Nest’s speakers, and we all headed to the Feed, a toasty little cafeteria filled with sizzles and good food smells.
    â€œThis is where you can eat,” Soup said.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Got it.”
    Meeki pushed past us and stepped behind the steaming food troughs, slipping on a hairnet and cellophane gloves. The Feed had just about everything, from reheated pizza and Coke to veggie stir-fry and green tea. Hanging above the troughs were two pictures—one of a smiling salad with “1,000” written beneath, the other of a frowning candy bar with a big “0.”
    All I wanted was a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles. Okay, that isn’t all I wanted. I wanted a chocolate doughnutwith sprinkles and a Red Bull. I wanted the Wight Knights in my headset screaming inappropriate shit about motorboating my man boobs. I wanted to block out all of Video Horizons and its players and focus on a screen where I could decapitate cowbots, so my brain could just relax a bit.
    â€œI’ll take the veggie stir-fry.”
    Meeki held out the spoon to me. “You can serve yourself.”
    I didn’t take the spoon. “Aren’t you getting points for doing this?”
    She scowled and slopped veggies onto my plate.
    I took my food to the cook, a squat, hairy man with a stylish apron that made him look like a bearded Fabergé egg. He wore a name tag that read COOKING MAMA . He scratched his beard and stamped my scroll.
    +1,000
    My first points. At this rate I’d be released from V-hab in just under three years.
    While Soup ordered food, I tried to slip away, but someone blocked my path. Scarecrow. The skinny Master Cheef with greasy straw hair.
    â€œIn case it wasn’t clear,” he said, “I think you’re a pile of shit, and I’m going to make you lose at everything you try.”
    I searched his eyes. “Why?”
    He gave a crooked grin. “If I told you, it would spoil the surprise.”
    He patted my cheek and walked away.
    I stayed frozen with my tray, until Soup hooked my arm—“Come on!”—and led me to a table by a window that overlooked the shadowy side of a giant dune.
    â€œThis is the Fury Burds table,” he said.
    â€œClearly.”
    We sat, and Soup sort of let his knee fall against mine. I sorta knocked it back. Behind us one of the Sefiroths whispered, “Who would win in a fight? Snake from Metal Gear or a million Pikmin ?”
    Aurora sat across from me and Soup with exactly one half of a piece of white toast