Mar. 10 - written by Christopher Rohan

Week 14

3-7-22 - Prompt: Totality

Three days ago, Robbie Dalton had forty seven followers. They were all friends and family and he felt pretty good about how many of them viewed on a regular basis. He’d only been streaming for about three or four months and only after his dad had finally given in and bought him the rig of his dreams with the stipulation that the two of them would split time.

Three days ago, Robbie’s friend Jon met a local indie game maker. Jon invited Robbie to meet him and the three hit it off. Ross Dowell was a small legend. He’d started his career like most, droning through massive companies. He’d even started making it into creative development, but his ideas were often shot down. Finally, he dropped the corporate garbage to develop on his own.

Equinox was a game about the dawn of history. It was about survival, exploration, building culture, and mapping the heavens. It was short. It was odd and eccentric. It was about completion, the gathering of knowledge and understanding of the small world around. It gained steam early on and quickly became know as a game impossibly hard to play, and impossible to beat. Everyone knew how to finish the final stages of the game, but nobody had yet done it. The game was six years old and every few months some gamer would advertise that they were going to challenge it. Every time they failed.

Robbie had never played it. He’d heard a lot about it as everyone else had in the gaming world, but he’d never liked the games that seemed to only be about how hard a developer can make it. He just liked a good adventure and he definitely didn’t care about the challenge. He’d asked Ross why he’d made it so difficult. The man had simply replied, “I didn’t. I made a game that I loved and hoped a few others would love. Equinox isn’t about challenge, it’s about growth, the greatest adventure.”

Robbie walked away from that conversation with curiosity. He wanted to play the game and he wanted to enjoy it. As he and Jon drove away from that meeting he said, “I think I wanna play Equinox.”

“Yeah?” replied Jon, “are you gonna stream it?”

“I don’t know, I just want to play the game to enjoy it.”

“I get that, but why not just turn everything on?” Jon’s point made sense. Robbie had enjoyed how streaming a game invited others into an experience that they wouldn't know otherwise.

That afternoon, he fired it up. He didn’t even notice when the number of his followers started rising. He played well into the night, then went to bed without a word to the viewers. The next day he couldn’t wait to fire it up again. He turned everything back on and picked up where he left off. By the end of the day, he contentedly switched everything off and went to bed, again without a word. He returned again the next day. As he made his way through the final scenes of the game, a tear started to roll down his cheek as the character laid down in his bed to pass away in the night. As this character, he’d started life, given to and received from his community, grew and changed, and finally laid down to rest. 

He’d finished the game. He was the first person to do it. As he leaned back in his chair and began to absentmindedly shut everything down he glanced at the comments and views. Eight hundred and sixty seven thousand comments and counting, and one million three hundred and fifty three thousand nine hundred and twenty six followers. He looked at the comments, they were mostly about how he’d done it, the first to do so, etcetera. He didn't’ care.

He turned off comments for a moment and wrote. “To those that would marvel at the challenge, I have nothing to say. But, to those that would care, that was the most beautiful game I’ve ever played. I hope you can enjoy it too.”

3-8-22 - Prompt: Odd

Richard Glen had been living in the assisted living home for around three months. He was fairly young as far as the more permanent residents go and he’d never lived in this sort of place, so he wrote it off when things and people didn’t seem quite right as a different way of doing things. He was never one to disparage someone for being a little quirky. He and his lifelong friend Tom Yang both entered the residence within a month of each other, which eased some of the initial concerns for them both. They’d also made some interesting friends along the way. Smira Varuth was ten years older than them, but sharp as a tack and spry as a gazelle, and her best friend Lisa Smith was just the opposite, another victim of dementia, trapped in her past and stuck in her scooter.

Lisa would go on about flashing lights in the cracks in the walls, food tasting like a broken will, and whispers saying things she couldn’t say. The other three would simply nod and smile with pity in their eyes as they continued playing cribbage. 

It was a Thursday, however, as the four of them sat outside in the Arizona sun. Lisa was mumbling and Smira knew to rub her hand to bring some calm. 

“Fifteen, two, fifteen, four, fifteen six, and nobs for seven,” counted Tom, moving his green peg across the cribbage board.

“Not bad,” said Richard, “You were hoping for the five to flip, I see, but you should always keep the most points in your hand.”

“That works for some, but fortune favors the bold, they say, and I will always play hoping the right card will flip. All in all, it worked out, seven is not a bad score.”

“Not bad, but it wont beat a straight sixteen,” shouted Richard triumphantly as he threw his cars down onto the small patio table.

“Sixteen!” shouted Lisa suddenly, “that’s when it was! Three sixteen!”

Smira leaned toward her friend, “Sweetie, what was that?”

“Last night,” she began and her eyes had a clarity and confidence that no one could mistake. Her mind was fully present, “That’s when I saw the lights in the walls.”

3-9-22 - Prompt: Promote

It had been months since the grand opening. Nelson looked around his book store with despair. This was his shot at building up a place of his own rather than always following some other disingenuous employer, who’d hand out promises like candy only to have reasons for why he’d never be able to get the promotion. He wanted to be a better boss than what he’d had.

Still, his old bosses must have been doing something right, because at least they had people coming in the door. He had no idea what it would take. He reflected on what his previous employers did. The corporations did cold calls, and had massive marketing budgets. He didn’t, and there was no way he’d cold call, not again. The smaller places usually had a very engaged and charismatic leader who couldn’t help but draw in the crowds. 

He was neither of these types. He was a romantic. He always had the magical sort of “people will come if I create something beautiful” thinking. It’s not always the case, however. He’d have folks come in, and they’d say something like, “Wow, this is amazing, you’ve done a great job, but you know what you need to do is …” then they’d go on saying, “you should this” and “you should that”. He wondered when they would do something. They’d usually walk out without buying anything, thinking that just being there, telling him how to run his business was supportive.

He felt tired. He scanned the room once again. The store really was beautiful. He’d poured his heart and soul into it, making sure everything was just right.

He wondered why good-old-fashioned word of mouth wasn’t working. He always wanted to tell these advisers to tell their friends. People always talk about what they like, so if you like it, talk about it. All he could think now was that folks must not like it. He shook his head trying to dislodge the negative thoughts, when the bell at the counter rang.

3-10-22 - Prompt: Temperance

“What pops into your mind when I say, ‘don’t think about a purple monkey’?” Adam said with a wry smile.

“Uh, a purple monkey,” replied Zach with a chuckle.

“That is how our minds work, Zach. The moment we tell ourselves to not do or think about any particular thing, is the moment that is all we think about and want to do. It’s in our nature. We cannot demand ourselves to stop doing any particular thing.”

“Then, how do I stop,” Zach began then stuttered trying to stifle the hopelessness he started to feel, “how do I change? I don’t want this stuff anymore.”

“I know Zach,” said Adam with soft compassion, “I don’t want it for you. Our minds are interesting things. They are so powerful and capable, but they are so vulnerable too. The vulnerability comes in the fact that all things seek the path of least resistance. The power of the human mind comes in the fact that we are able to overcome that compulsion. We can willfully decide to do something different than what is easiest and most available. Right now, you are at the back end of years of abusing your body with all kinds of substances. Your body has been trained to go there, to desire it and begin to plot a course to get there.”

“That seems like a lot to get over, Adam.”

“Your’e not wrong,” the mentor replied with a chuckle, “but one of the first steps is to let go of the mentality that through sheer force of will, you will get over it. You are more humble than that right now, stay there.”

“Ok,” said Zach with a resolute exhale, “so where do I start?”

“Well, you like hiking, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s say there’s a ridge you want to get to. By its height you know that it holds an epic view. But you’ve tried all the ready made paths that look like they lead to the top, but none of them do. Some of them even lead to really precarious situations. Blind falls, loose gravel on a steep grade, some to nasty quagmires. Some lead to a view that was good enough, but it was never all that you’d hoped for. Finally, you resolve to start a new path. The question is what will you have to do?”

Zach thought for a moment, “I guess I’d have to start bushwhacking and slowly working my way up.”

“Will that be easy?” Adam asked.

“Not at all,” replied Zach.

“Ok, let’s say you’re making your way up, slowly inching forward, how will those old paths look now that you’re tired and sweaty?”

“They’d probably look pretty good, honestly.”

“Understandable, but even if they lead where you don’t want to go?”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“So you take the old path and find the same old situation, what happens?”

“Regret and frustration, along with the shame of giving up on something way better.” Zach replied with resignation.

“Then, what do you do?”

“Try again, I guess.”

“Yeah, many actually give up, and just stick to the old paths. But, you say that you’ll keep going. Let’s say you get to the top, see the view, and now you have a path to get there. Will you take the other paths?”

“No. Why would I? They don’t lead to anything good and definitely don’t lead to that epic view.”

“What happens to the old paths, now that no one’s hiking them?”

“They probably become overgrown. Eventually you wont even see them.”

“That’s right, and that’s what the brain is like. You need to neglect the old paths and begin to form new ones to better places knowing that eventually the old paths will fade and what remains are only neural pathways to good places.