NOVEL NEXT 286: There’s NPCs In DISCORD???!!!
My real name was on a Discord DM preview when it should not have been. I abandoned the pad on my sofa and fled down the hall in bare feet, out the door, and into the cold night air. Down the street towards people and places I knew. Through the doors of the pasta shop on the corner.
Garlic and heat. Spices and familiarity. I bent over, hands on knees, just glad to be upright.
"Sam?"
It was a voice I knew, but couldn't recognize through the haze that was my thoughts.
A hand on my shoulder.
"Sam? Okay. Keep breathing. You've got it. I'll breathe too. Ready? In. Slow it down with me. Can you breathe with me, Sam? Listen to my nice, slow breath. In. Out. Nice and slow. You've got it. In. Slow. Out. Slow. That's right. You're doing great. Let's keep breathing together."
My vision cleared, and I saw my bare feet on red tiles. I blinked, and the voice was finally clear to me.
Rhoda. Oh, thank God. I kept breathing with her. Slowly. Measured. In. Out. And finally, I could stand up.
"Why don't we have a seat at that booth?" Rhoda asked calmly, but I couldn't sit. I wanted to run, fast, hide. My breaths came too quick.
"Or not," Rhoda concluded.
She glanced down at my feet. "My townhouse is four blocks, come on, Sam." She looped her arm through mine and led me down the street.
"I don't know about you, but I looooove the cajun Alfredo from Pastas Plus. Have you ever had it with the broccoli? I crave it every single week, so now whenever I drop Filly off with his dad, I get take out and fill up on creamy, spicy noodles."
Rhoda kept talking all the way to her house, and we crossed the threshold of her front door and stepped into an elegant townhouse that didn't look like a three-year-old boy lived there. She put the take-out bag in my hands and pushed me towards the kitchen.
"Go get the food out, Sam. I'm gonna get you socks and a sweatshirt to cover your headlights."
I obeyed, reaching the kitchen island and pulling two containers out of a bag by the time she was back with thick wool socks and a heavy sweatshirt. I pulled the latter over my head and the former over my toes as Rhoda kept babbling about her favorite dishes from the pasta place. She sat me down on a barstool and put a plate of Alfredo in front of me.
"Take a bite, Sam, I think some starches will help."
I picked up the fork and looked at the creamy pasta with zesty chicken. It was a favorite. Swirling pasta over the tines of my fork I whispered, "I told him my name."
"Start there, then. Your name?"
I nodded. "Sam."
"You told a man your name is Sam. Anything else?"
I shook my head.
"Well, that's not really your name is it?"
My head spun to her, sharply, and for the first time in what felt like hours, I could think. I shook my head.
"No. No. You're right. It was an accident. Just 'Sam.' Nothing more. I didn't tell him anything else. But why? Why would he tell Cora?"
"Is that the singer? Cora? She knows your nickname?"
"I— I." I shook my head. "I don't know." My breaths started coming faster and faster. Rhoda put a hand on my arm.
"Slow down, Sam. You don't have to say it if you don't want to. Just breathe slowly right now."
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I jumped off the stool, rubbing my face with my hands.
"I don't know what's happening, Rhoda," it came out a sob. "Something bad. Bad." My head shook back and forth. "I'm so stupid, so, so stupid. I went dancing with Jolene, and I told HC my name. And now they're all making fun of me!"
"Who is making fun of you, Sam?"
"Everybody! All of the Discord. It's the whole Discord. They repeat what I say and laugh at me and tell me I need to rinse my brain!"
"Wooaaaaaaahhhh. Hold on, Sam. Full stop. Look at me right now, Samantha Mooneyhan."
I obeyed.
"You're telling me that all over Discord people are making fun of you and putting you down? Insulting you?"
Wiping tears from my eyes, I nodded. Rhoda handed me a box of tissues. Guess she had her own reasons to keep them handy.
"Remember what I told you about my cousin? About the NPCs?"
"Someone got played, right? Did they lose all their money?"
"No, just their heart, but it's the NPCs, Sam."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, of course. WAIT— is that a video game thing?"
"Not a gamer, obviously."
"Who has time for little figures running around eating ass cheeks? I have two jobs. Scratch that, I'm unemployed and write books for no money. When am I going to play games?"
Rhoda laughed, pulling me into a hug, "Oh god, Sam, Marjorie told me about the nannying job ending. I'm so sorry. You've had a week, and you can still be so funny. Alright, listen. An NPC is a non-player character. This is how it works. Let's say you, me, and your Nanna all decide to play Bum And Get It together, okay? We all log in and see each other, but we aren't the only characters there. Other people are running around, but there's no person directing them. They're just computer programs so they're called non-players. Does that make sense?"
"They're just part of the program. No actual human is running them around making them do shit in the game?"
She nodded, "Exactly—"
"Wait, Rhoda, there's NPCs IN DISCORD? Are you fucking kidding me? It's not REAL PEOPLE? I thought Discord was a networking app. You go on there to meet people, promote your business. Is it a game? A weird-ass video game? Is this what people do for entertainment instead of reading amazing web serials?"
She shook her head, "No, you are exactly right, Sam. It's meant to be a social site, but something's going on. My cousin's not the only one I've heard about, and now there's you. We need to look at it, see it."
But horror was already coursing through my veins and reaching my brain. HC. HC was an NPC? He wasn't real? Not a person?
I bent over, head at my knees. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. A hand on my back. A soothing voice.
"Keep breathing, Sam. Nice and slow. You can do it. I'll breathe with you."
"I— I trusted him, Rhoda. He seemed so normal. Funny. Kind. I mean— wait. Is something pretending to be HC Maron? Like impersonating him? Does the real HC Maron even know this is happening? Is he actually writing a book called Shapeless Poetry? Rhoda! He gave me money. It's a job! I'm employed. I'm his beta reader!"
"Okay, that's good, Sam. That's not something a computer program would do. We can figure this out. There's a trail; we can follow it. He pays you for the beta reading?"
"Yes!"
"And he, what, sends you files? Or is it on a site somewhere?"
"Files. Sends them through Discord."
"Then that's where we start." She looked me over. "You didn't bring your pad, did you? Guess I can understand why. Do you have back up files in the air or just on your pad?"
I shook my head, "I keep back ups in the air."
Pulling her pad out of her pocket, Rhoda instructed me, "You log in and get one of the files. I'll reheat dinner. Hungry now?"
I nodded. With a focus and a problem to solve, I could think clearly instead of just seeing days of confusing lines running through my brain and betrayals around every corner. I had credits in the bank from HC Maron and files with his words on them.
Couldn't a computer program generate a file? It could take my poetry and put it to music, would it also be able to write a book? I opened one of the Shapeless Poetry documents.
"Here, Rhoda," we hovered the pad in front of us as we shoveled forkfuls of creamy pasta into our mouths. It was fantastic. Garlicy, cheesy goodness with cajun chicken and that undertone of broccoli. Perfection in every bite.
"Let's get another noodle delivery. I need more than half your dinner," I remarked.
Rhoda clicked the screen and put in the order adding two chocolate mousse desserts then switched back to HC's file.
"Alright, Sam, open the settings, and let's see what's in the descriptions. I did so, and in the little box of descriptions it said:
Owner: PaddysPatchNovaceuticals
"Bingo!" Rhoda cried, triumphant.
She grabbed the pad out of the air and started flicking her fingers across it. "Paddy's Patch is a cosmetics stream site. Look Sam. She's got mostly Novaceuticals' products, but a few other things."
I knew almost nothing about cosmetics, and didn't much care, but this was Rhoda's field, so I let her take the lead.
"Ohhh, Sam," she danced up and down. "This is sooo perfect! I know exactly what we're gonna do! Look at Paddy Simdeck."
Rhoda flipped the pad to me, and I saw a soft, round woman with latte skin and a long dark braid streaked with grey. Padma Simdeck, cosmetics sales. She looked kind and pretty and everything you'd want in a grandma. I couldn't help smiling at that face in the picture.
"What's your plan, Rhoda?"
"Paddy's Patch is based out of Miami, and I think we could both use a vacation."
Holy fucking hells. It was Florida after all.