Happy Places v2

Happy Places [[Begin|Intro]]

You hear your name called over the loud speaker. You shoot to your feet and push through the throng of people, eager to reach the desk. Your sweaty fingers curl protectively around the small paper slip you received in your mailslot the other morning. You were chosen. You! The letter said you were in the top 60th percentile of [[thin Blooded humanoids.|houses]] You were eligible for a new job. Specifically, you were eligible to become a Caretaker. Being a Caretaker paid more than working in the [[Oxygen Mines.|the mines]] Better compensated. If they gave you Caretaker insurance, you might actually be able to get a packet of tooth cleaning dust for the first time in years. And, well, there's another reason. You have not been selected for Breeding yet, but you hope if you can successfully care for this Supplement that you might soon receive approval. You have wanted to be a mother for the past year or two. It gets lonely in your little apartment. The tall metal desk looms in front of you. Bald-headed men and women sit behind a sheet of grimy glass, wearing dull grey uniforms. Small LED screens illuminate the numbers of the next person being served. You see your number at a far end of the desk, where a dour-faced man sits gazing down his hawk nose at the messy, clenching fist of the crowd. You swallow hard and clutch the paper to your chest [[as you approach him.|begin]]

Your blood is thin and weak. It marks you as inferior to the more healthy-Blooded individuals that make up the Great Houses. They have access to plentiful stores of oxygen. Some say they even throw oxygen tasting parties where they sample flavored oxygen. You can't imagine that kind of life. You were born with thin blood, and unless you can afford to buy a bigger ration of oxygen, you won't be going to any oxygen parties any time soon. [[But there's no point thinking about that right now.|Intro]]

Work in the oxygen mines is soulless and dull. The long fourteen-hour days are hard. Your supervisors are unpleasant and shout at everyone all day for being lazy. Sometimes, you'll force yourself to vomit just so you can have a five minute break. [[With your new Caretaker position, hopefully things will get at least a little easier.|Intro]]

"Um, hello," you lick your dry lips. The man stares at you, his eyes twitching over your face like beetles. "I received this--in the mail. For a Caretaker position. I'd, uh, like to accept." He silently presses a button to open a small slot at the base of the glass encasement. You carefully tuck the paper through the opening. He stares at it for a moment. You swallow hard. You hope someone else didn't take your spot. You need this new job [[badly.|struggles]] "You were approved for a Caretaker position." "Y-yes." He taps at a holo-keyboard for a few moments and information flits across a screen you can't see. But you see the glow of [[Data]] bathes his chin and jaw in a sickly shade of green. "You have officially filled the position." He grabs a packet from a drawer under the desk and passes it through the slot. "You will need to pick up the Supplement from the [[stores]] within twenty-four hours or you automatically forefeit your spot. Transaction complete." He turns away and calls a new name into his small microphone. You turn and stumble back [[into the crowd.|pickup]]

It's been a tough couple of weeks. You've logged so many hours at the Oxygen Mines, but the thin-Blood tax went up this cycle. You can barely scrape together enough credit to pay the rent. [[This has to be your chance to make it better.|begin]]

You've grown to hate the sight of Data. It makes your eyes burn, and sometimes you see codes of Data flickering behind your eyes when you sleep. Then again, you haven't slept well for weeks so it hasn't been as bothersome lately. [[Pay attention to the worker.|begin]]

You haven't been to the stores since you were a child. Your mother had been selected as a Caretaker, and she took you with her to pick up the Supplements. You have vague recollections of glass tubes, small pink things, and bleating cries. Your mother died before you turned ten, so you didn't have much experience with Supplements after that. [[It's not good to think about your mother right now.|begin]]

Ashes plume around your feet as you walk down the sidewalk. Overhead, a heavy grey sky breathes down on top of you. Your teeth vibrate from the pulse of radiation in the air. It's stronger today. You stop briefly to vomit into the gutter. Watery grey liquid spews over your teeth. You quickly reach the stores. There's a small card in your packet that you show to the woman sitting at the desk. Her fingernail pops off as she accepts your card. "Sorry," she says and shrugs. She scans the card. "Alright. They'll be out to get you in a few minutes." You nod and sit down in the lobby. The chairs are uncomfortable, and you feel your hip bones digging into the hard plastic. Other men and women fill the chairs, Caretakers like you. They look a little more plump than [[your coworkers|jealousy]] from the oxygen mines. The bones in their hands don't stick out as much. A tinny speaker overhead chimes information about the [[current radiation level,|radiation]] [[the percentage of oxygen,|oxygen]] [[the remaining ration stores,|rations]] and every minutes, it cycles to a dedication to the Blooded Houses. You wait for a little bit. Your skin feels numb and you flex your fingers. Finally, they [[call your name.|instructions]]

The worker greets you through a paper face mask. You can see his eyes. The whites are dull, and a popped blood vessel casts a weird shadow over his iris. Round pustules swell, red and angry, on his nose and cheeks. He takes you back into the storerooms. There are hundreds of glass tubes lining the walls, filled with gurgling pink liquid. Undeveloped Supplements float in the stew of nutrients. "Since this is your first time, you are only assigned one Supplement. Based on the success of your first assignment, we will decide in the future how many more you can take." He explains. He takes you to one of the tubes. Each tube has a neatly printed number attached to the glass. He scans a card and the tube pops out. He turns and hands it to you. The smooth curve of glass feels cool against your palm. [["Read the packet.|packet]] It will tell you what to do. Drop the fully developed Supplement off at the Factory for processing in three days." As you walk out of the stores, you tuck the Supplement into your satchel. [[You have to do this right.|start care]] (set: $actions to 3) (set: $day to 1) (set: $stage to "Fetus") (set: $size to 42) (set: $meat to 12) (set: $toxic to 55) (set: $stimulate to 4) (set: $rations to 30)

You get a pit in your stomach when you think about your coworkers. You had mentioned to some of them that you were slotted into a Caretaker position. They did not seem...happy about it. You shake your head. [[It's not like your ever see most of them again.|pickup]]

"The raditation level is currently at Code 9, with 76.8% toxicity. Expect some negative side effects, such as vomiting, blood in urine, and nausea." [[Well, wasn't that great to hear.|pickup]]

"The oxygen stores are currently 40% full." [[It was better than nothing.|pickup]]

"There are currently 2.3 available ration stores per thin-Blooded humanoid. This number has increased in the current cycle." [[Yeah, from the 2.2 available ration stores per thin-Blood last cycle.|pickup]]

(font: "American Typewriter")[How to Care for a Supplement: 1) Inject with nutrient-hormone cocktail once a day 2) Rinse in lukewarm water as necessary to remove unwanted residue, which could become toxic if unmanaged 3) Once sufficiently developed, feed correct amount of ration mash (10 mg) 4) Provide as little stimulation as possible Ideal Conditions: Size: 50th-65th Percentile Usable meat: 40%-60% Toxicity: >= 30% Stimulation: 5%] [[You feel confident you can care for the Supplement.|instructions]]

{(if: $day is 1)[The Supplement floats inert in the glass tube of liquid. You set it on the kitchen table. You open the packet and come across instructions about how to monitor the status of the Supplement. After a few minutes of fumbling, you activate a small screen on top of the cylinder. You consult the packet, which instructs you to drain the contents of the cylinder into a seperate container and place the Supplement in another container. Once the fetal Supplement has been moved to a small metal bowl, with the liquid drained into a dented aluminum cup, you activate the screen on top of the tube and try to decide what to do.]} {(if: $day is 2)[(set: $stage to "Developing")[Much to your relief, the Supplement is still alive. It has grown exponentially during the night, from a small, fleshy pink fetus to a homely little creature as long as your forearm. It watches you cross the kitchen with wide, plaintive black eyes, thin, soft eyelashes sweeping against its crumpled cheeks. It ambles towards you on four underdeveloped legs. The little thing is still ugly. Pink wrinkles fold over its pudgy body. It makes a small mewling sound that is suprisingly...human. In fact, its features are a little like a baby's, but strangely feline. You shake your head. You can't think of it that way.]]} {(if: $day is 3)[(set: $stage to "Adolescent")[You wake with a start to find the Supplement wriggling on your chest. At first, you are terrified that it is dying. But after a few moments, you notice that it is making a strange purring sound. You frown, but you are made oddly...happy by the odd sound. You gently pat the top of the Supplement's bald head. It's soft. But you catch yourself and force the Supplement off of you. It mewls in protest. This isn't a good idea. You can't get attached. You can't. The Supplement has much stronger legs now. It follows you into the kitchen. You hear it pattering behind you. Just two more days.]]} {(if: $day is 4)[(set: $stage to "Fully Developed")[It's your last day with the Supplement. You wake to find the Supplement tucked into your feet at the end of the bed. It's small body exudes pleasant warmth, and you sink back into the pillow and stare at the ceiling. The Supplement stumbles after you into the kitchen like a sleepy child. You check the tube readouts. Tomorrow morning, you have to take the Supplement in for processing. For some reason, your stomach sinks at the thought.]]} Stage: (print: $stage) Size: (print: $size) percentile Usable meat: (print: $meat)% Toxicity: (print: $toxic)% Stimulation: (print: $stimulate)% Don't forget to keep in mind your amount of rations! Remaining ration: (print: $rations) You have (print: $actions) actions left to perform today. [[Inject nutrient cocktail.|inject]] [[Clean in the sink.|clean]] [[Listen to the radio.|radio]] [[Read the instruction packet again.|instruct]] [[Go to the oxygen mine and pick up a few hours.|work]] (if: $day >= 2)[[[Pet the Supplement.|pet]]] (if: $day >= 2)[[[Feed the Supplement ration mash.|feed]]] (if: $day >= 2)[[[Stare at the Supplement.|detail]]] (if: $actions is 0)[(goto: "Nighttime")]

You fumble with a small syringe, drawing the correct amount of nutrient cocktail from the cup. You insert the needle into the bundle of nerves at the base of the Supplement's neck, underneath the smooth curve of its head. The thick pink liquid flows into the fine branching of veins that flutter under the Supplement's tender skin. [[The Supplement wriggles approvingly.|start care]] (set: $actions to it - 1) (set: $size to it + 5) (set: $meat to it + 6)

Even though you wear plastic gloves, you can still feel the Supplement's soft, smooth skin under your hand. It shivers under the cold drizzle of water from the faucet. An orangey-pink residue sluices down the drain. The Supplement curls into your arm. Even though the water is cold, it's tiny body feels hot. [[The Supplement blinks up at you as you carefully towel it dry.|start care]] (set: $actions to it - 1) (set: $toxic to it - 10)

You turn the dial on your radio. It takes a few moments to find the normal station. A bland female voice recites the relevant Data for the day. Sometimes, the voice on the radio feels like your only true friend in the world. You notice that the Supplement seems stimulated by the radio. Maybe you should [[turn it off.|start care]] [[Current radiation level|radiation2]] [[Percentage of oxygen|oxygen2]] [[Remaining ration stores|rations2]] and every few minutes, it cycles to a dedication to the Blooded Houses. You stare at the thin ramose of veins under the pale skin of your wrists. Your sad, pathetic blood. [[Well, that's all for today.|start care]] (set: $actions to it - 1)

(if: $day is 1)[That's all for today. Your energy is depleted. You spoon some ration mash into your mouth, listless and numb as you swallow the tasteless paste. You take a few conservative pulls of oxygen from your ration stores. The Supplement gazes at you as you go about your nightly routine. It has already grown a little bit. For some reason, you think it might be a...male, if that's even possible. "What is it?" You ask. It opens and closes its tiny pink mouth. A yawn? "Are you tired?" You sigh and scoop it up into your hand. It seems to curl into your palm, tiny legs wrapping around your fingers. You shake yourself. Don't think about it. It still fits in the metal bowl. It shifts uncomfortably and makes a low, frustrated sound. You bite your lower lip. Finally, you give in and take the Supplement to your bed. You lay down. You feel the Supplement's tiny body. It snuffles softly. It reminds you of your mother's soft snores as you slept together, clumped onto your tiny mattress. "It's already been ten years," you whisper. The Supplement shifts. You look down and see it staring at you. You find yourself talking out loud to the quivering little creature. It seems to listen to you as you tell it about your mother. You have been so alone for so long. Your coworkers at the oxygen mine always talked over you, never listened to you. You talk until [[you fall asleep.|start care]]] (set: $actions to 3) (set: $stimulate to it + 5) (if: $day is 2)[That's all for today. You flop into bed and are not surprised when the Supplement crawls in next to you. Pale blue light from the artifical moonlight washes over the ceiling. You fall into a deep sleep. You find yourself trapped in a nightmare. You run through the oxygen mines, breathing hard, your blood trickling through your veins, thin like bile. Hands reach out of the walls, bloody mouths gnashing in their palms. You wake to the keen of your [[alarm clock.|start care]]] (set: $actions to 3) (if: $day is 3)[That's all for today. You feel introspective tonight. You had a mother and father, once. It was a very long time ago. The memories of them are murky and blurred, like staring at your reflection in a foggy mirror. Sometimes, you aren't sure if they were even real. You think you might have had a sibling too. But you can't remember anymore. You peer down at the Supplement. Its features have grown even more distinct, a strange amalgamation of human and feline. At one time, you were that small. Made of wants, needs, sensations, a screaming mouth and waving fists. Just the pieces of a human being, jagged around the edges, not quite fitting together. In some ways, you are still small and fractured. But that doesn't bear [[thinking about.|start care]]] (set: $actions to 3) (set: $day to it + 1) (if: $day is 4)[Tomorrow morning...you will take the Supplement in for processing. But do you have to, really? You squeeze your eyes shut and scrunch under your thin, threadbare blanket. The mattress squeaks as the Supplement climbs onto the bed. Have you done a good job? Will they let you continue to be a Caretaker? Do you want to be a Caretaker? Tomorrow, you will [[have to decide.|decision]]]

(font: "American Typewriter")[How to Care for a Supplement: 1) Inject with nutrient-hormone cocktail once a day 2) Rinse in lukewarm water as necessary to remove unwanted residue, which could become toxic if unmanaged 3) Once sufficiently developed, feed correct amount of ration mash (10 mg) 4) Do NOT allow unnecessary movement; the meat will be less tender 5) Provide as little stimulation as possible Ideal Conditions: Size: 50th-65th Percentile Usable meat: 40%-60% Toxicity: >= 30% Stimulation: 5%] [[You feel confident you can care for the Supplement.|start care]]

Your fingers smooth over the soft curve of its skull. It makes a small sound of happiness. You hastily snatch your hand away. [[This isn't a good idea.|start care]] (set: $actions to it - 1) (set: $stimulate to it + 10)

Now that is it larger, you know it is time to feed the Supplement. As you prepare a small dish of ration mash, you rub at your greasy gums and your finger comes away damp with blood. You hate having to give up your ration mash before you have the funds to cover it. But how much should you give it? You stare down at the tiny, pathetic thing. [[Give 5 mg. You can't give up anymore.|5 mg]] [[Give 10 mg. Exactly what you are supposed to.|10 mg]] [[Give 15 mg. Maybe you should give it a little bit more.|15 mg]]

(if: $day is 2)[You gaze down at the small, crumpled heap of tender pink flesh at your feet. Large, liquid black eyes shine up at you. Its paws slide over the floor as it leans a little off balance. You snort back a laugh. You have never seen anything quite like a Supplement. You don't know how many DNA threads have been twined together to produce this little creature--perhaps some felis or canis genetic code. A small hint of yellow fuzz swarms over its flexible body and skinny appendages. A hint of fat has started to round its belly. It brings up a hindleg to scratch at its long, flapping ears. Your stomach clenches and you have to [[look away.|start care]]] (set: $actions to it - 1) (if: $day is 3)[The Supplement has gotten even bigger. Its legs have thickened with muscle, and it does not stumble or fall as easily now. In fact, it's almost as long as your forearm. Its eyes are still dark and shiny. The baby hair sprouting from its skin seems thicker and darker. It gives a small yawn, showing pink gums and a small tongue. Tiny teeth. Did you look like that as a baby? You have to [[stop doing this to yourself.|start care]]] (set: $actions to it - 1) (if: $day is 4)[You take a moment to examine the Supplement. It's as tall as your knee, and its face has taken on a more feline aspect. Yet you also notice the thickness around its stomach and hips. Pink, quivering meat. You swallow hard. When you take it in for processing, this Supplement could end up in your portion of rations. You can't restrain the urge to vomit. You barely make it to the sink. You brace your hands on the counter and crouch down on the floor. You feel an empty socket in your gums. You puked up a tooth. The Supplement makes a growling noise. You turn and stare at it. This is getting to be [[too much for you.|start care]]] (set: $actions to it - 1)

(if: $day <= 2)["The raditation level is currently at Code 9, with 73.3% toxicity. Expect some negative side effects, such as vomiting, blood in urine, and nausea." You sigh. [[At least it had gotten better.|radio]]] (if: $day >= 3)["The raditation level is currently at Code 10, with 80.4% toxicity. Expect negative side effects, including but not limited to: vomiting, bloody vomiting, loss of sensation in extremities, hair loss, vertigo, and migraines." Well, it got worse. [[But then, what else is new?|radio]]] (set: $stimulate to it + 1)

(if: $day <= 2)["The oxygen stores are currently 40% full." [[It was better than nothing.|radio]]] (if: $day >= 3)["The oxygen stores are currently 37% full." [[It was better than nothing.|radio]]] (set: $stimulate to it + 1)

You can't be sure that this Caretaker position will work out. You still pickup some hours at the oxygen mine. Some of your coworkers make mocking comments about your new job. You keep your head down and force yourself not to cry. But you do force yourself to vomit to give yourself a five minute break. You ignore the blood in your vomit. It isn't the first time you've bled today. You don't work your usual fourteen hour shift. Instead, you work for about ten hours. You aren't sure you should have [[left the Supplement alone that long.|start care]] (set: $rations to it + 10) (set: $size to it - 5) (set: $toxic to it + 5) (set: $stimulate to it - 2) (set: $actions to it - 1)

You stare up at the Factory. It looms over the street, an unforgiving column of grey break. The reek of blood and flesh oozes from the Factory like sweat. Bodies jostle down the sidewalk. You clutch your satchel--the Supplement whimpers through the thin fabric. What will you do? [[Can you really give up the Supplement after taking care of it for almost a week? No, you can't do it. Just turn around and take it home. You can take care of it, and it can help keep you sane.|keep]] [[It's just a Supplement. You knew that this would happen from the beginning. You need to do this if you want to keep your Caretaker position--and perhaps one day have a child.|process]] [[You aren't cut out to be a Caretaker. You'd rather go back to the oxygen mines than have to do this again. You turn around and walk away. You can't keep the Supplement, but you will give it mercy.|mercy]]

You cannot spare any ration mash today. The Supplement's nose quivers as you plop a small amount of mash into a bowl. It does not seem impressed by its meal. Absurdly, you want to apologize. [[But it's not like this is your fault.|start care]] (set: $rations to it - 2) (set: $size to it - 2) (set: $meat to it - 3) (set: $actions to it - 1)

The instruction packet said 10 mg per day. That is exactly what you will give the Supplement, no more and no less. The Supplement huffs a small sigh as you give it a dish of ration mash. "Don't give me sass." After a small pause, the Supplement buries its nose in the mash. [[You doing exactly what you are supposed to.|start care]] (set: $rations to it - 5) (set: $size to it + 3) (set: $meat to it + 3) (set: $actions to it - 1)

The Supplement is just so...small and pathetic. The packet said 10 mg, but surely it wouldn't hurt to give it a little more? Your motivations are scattered. On one hand, you want to plump up the Supplement so you can secure your Caretaker position. But on the other hand, part of you simply wants to make it...happy. The Supplement blinks gratefully as you place the ration mash in front of it. [[You hope this isn't a bad idea.|start care]] (set: $rations to it - 7) (set: $size to it + 5) (set: $meat to it + 5) (set: $actions to it - 1)

It's been a few days since you decided to keep the Supplement. It has grown exponentially. It's the size of a small child now. Well, it's not really an "it" anymore. You can tell that it is a female now. And her features have grown disturbingly human. But you're running low on ration mash. Having to take care of yourself and the rapidly growing Supplement is draining your rations--and your sanity. You have picked up twenty-hour shifts in the oxygen mines now. You look in the mirror and barely recognize yourself anymore. Your nightmares have intensified. But you do like having a warm body next to you at night. And the Supplement listens to you like no one else ever has. You don't know what will happen as the Supplement grows. Maybe this was a mistake. END

You enter the Factory. The Supplement whimpers. You choke down your doubts and approach the grimy metal desk. A woman sits behind a Data screen. She doesn't look up at you until you clear your throat. "I, um, have a Supplement to submit. For processing." "Let me see the tube." You carefully pass her the tube. The Supplement shifts restlessly in the satchel, and you clutch the straps until your knucks turn white. (if: $stimulate <= 20)["Alright, looks like it's in good condition. Is it in the bag?" Unable to speak, you nod. She raises an eyebrow. You place the bag on the counter. She withdraws a syringe from an unseen compartment. You wince as she pushes the fabric inside and plunges the needle into the Supplement. "Your Supplement was in good condition for a first timer," she says. She picks up the Supplement and carries it to a large bin. She dumps it into the bin like it's a dirty piece of clothes. "I'll update your records. They'll probably approve you to have three or four Supplements at a time." "O-okay." "You trying to get approved for Breeding?" The woman asks. She taps at a keyboard. "I'd say they'll approve you in a few weeks. Turn a few more Supplements that high quality and you'll get to go to the other side of the Stores." "What do you mean?" The woman shrugged. You watch as a set of doors behind the desk swing open. A large man wearing a bloody apron emerges. You peek through the door and catch a glimpse of limp bodies dangling from hooks in the ceiling. The man grabs the bin and pushes it through the door. Then, your Supplement is--gone. "It's just a random draw, you know. Which fetuses become Supplements and which are chosen for breeding." You feel the blood drain from your face. "What?" "Did you not know that? I guess a lot of people don't." The woman smiles. Her teeth are much whiter than your coworkers'. "You're all set. Go back to the Stores later today and see if your report went through. You should have new Supplements within the next twenty-four hours." "Okay," you say. "Thank you." You turn around and walk out of the Factory. END] (if: $stimulate >= 21)["Well, it's not in ideal condition, but it works." The woman raises an eyebrow. "It's a little...overstimulated. Make sure you watch out for that next time." She withdraws a syringe from an unseen compartment. You suppress a gasp and the urge to slap her hand away when she throws the satchel open and stabs the needle into the Supplement. It goes limp, yet its eyes continue to hang open. They seem to stare accusingly at you. You take a step back from the desk. The woman stands and carries the Supplement to a large bin. Your teeth grind together as she tosses it indifferently into the bin. You hear a wet meaty sound as it lands. She returns to the desk and starts typing out Data. She glances at you and gives you a conspiratorial look. "Do you want to get approved for breeding?" She asks. "I...yes." "Well, then I'd definitely recommend being more careful about stimulating the Supplements in the future. It might still be a cycle or two before you get approved for breeding." "I...okay, yeah, I understand." You watch as a set of doors behind the desk swing open. A large man wearing a bloody apron emerges. You peek through the door and catch a glimpse of limp bodies dangling from hooks in the ceiling. The man grabs the bin and pushes it through the door. Then, your Supplement is--gone. "It still pays better than being the oxygen mines, though. Keep at it." "Thank you." You turn around and walk out of the factory.]

You can do this. You have to. Crack. You sprint into the bathroom. What a wase of ration mash. You'll throw the body away later. Some dark, sick part of you wants to keep the Supplement for...sustenance. But you put the body in a garbage bag, knot the top, and shove it in the farthest corner of your apartment. You need to stop at the bureau and rescind your Caretaker position. And you'll need to tell them that the Supplement...died. Your stomach churns at the thought of returning to the oxygen mines. Will you ever get to have a child after this? You stare at your reflection in the mirror. Pockets of darkness cling to the skin under your pronounced cheekbones. Your lips are so thin and chapped, almost translucent, that you can almost see your teeth when your mouth is closed. You crumple to the floor. You hope you made the right choice. END