The Boss

“Good morning Mr. Sol. The Boss would like to see you at your earliest convenience.”

Harry Sol, having only arrived at his desk a few moments earlier, cleared his throat and endeavored a futile smile. “Morning Judy, uh, are you sure he wants to see me? I know my last report was not up to par, but..”

“Quite sure, Mr. Sol, “ said Judy from Human Resources, masked in her trademark permagrin, “Please accompany me to the meeting room.”

Harry Sol felt his stomach drop and metallic bile rise in his throat. Images of his wife and son flashed before him, along with a pit of deep regret in his stomach, I should never have come to work today. He did his best to maintain composure as he stood and reached to take for his sport coat hung on the back of his chair.

“You won’t be needing that,” said Judy.

“Ah, well… yes of course not. “

The tap tap of fingers typing on keyboards increased in tempo as the two walked past the rows and rows of desks. Harry looked at a few of the people he considered friends, but no one looked up as he walked a step behind Judy out of the office and down the long hall to the meeting room.

Judy looked up for the facial recognition scan, and opened the metal door, “After you, Mr. Sol.”

Instinct told Harry to run, but he knew it was futile. Underneath the pantsuit and programmed persona, HR Judys were military-grade kill-bots with legal authority to terminate anyone who disobeyed company orders. Standard employment contract.

Harry entered the warehouse-sized meeting room. Technicians in lab coats manned flashing technicolor computer stations. Row upon row of giant tanks housed humans suspended in a pinkish liquid connected to a range of tubes and heads half encased in VR headsets.

“Does it hurt,” asked Harry?

“Not at all. After connecting to the system, you will be instantly transported to the Game. Our VR tanks allow for a completely immersive experience. Your physical body will be well maintained, and returned to you immediately after meeting with the Boss. Now, please remove your clothes.”

The technicians fitted the headset and gently lowered Harry into the tank. The pink liquid was warm with a pleasant floral odor. “Good luck, Mr. Sol,” he heard Judy say.

Then, a blast of frigid air, and the feeling of dirt and snow below his bare feet. Harry shivered and looked around. A valley, surrounded by jagged snow-capped mountains. He stood in a field of brown withered cornstalks. And a thatched hut nearby.

The hut appeared empty, and Harry quickly closed the door, rubbing his naked limbs to create friction, trying to get warm.

“Harry Sol is that you,” a withered voice called from the corner.

Harry looked and saw an old man with a long white beard, huddled in a pile of dirty blankets. It was old Frank Henderson from the accounting department. “Frank, what are you doing here?”

“Got called to see the Boss, just like you.” Frank hacked a horsing cough and continued, “You’d think they could’ve given me a younger body, but I got the same stats as in the real world.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Don’t know how long it’s been on the outside, but in-game it’s been more dark nights than I can count.”

“Why haven’t you gone to see the Boss?”

Frank shrugged, “Well I tried to venture out but didn’t make it far before I was attacked but some horrible creatures. The Boss’s office is supposedly deep within a castle hidden in the mountains. I’m a 68-year-old accountant Harry, I’m not built for this kind of thing. I think I’m stuck here in the Boss’s dream world until this world kills me or my physical body dies on the outside.” He coughed again and continued,” you must be freezing, there are some old furs and supplies in that trunk. Take what you need.”

“I’m not leaving you here Frank, we’ll find the Boss’s office together.”

The wooden trunk held basic trousers, a shirt, a fur cloak, and a dagger. Harry had never been in a fight in his life but took the dagger anyway. After some convincing, he helped Frank to his feet and the two left the hut, against a biting wind, and headed towards the western mountains.

They walked and left the hut behind them. Then, a hissing growl and terrible moan.

“No it’s them,” Frank whimpered, “we should have stayed in the hut. Run!”

Harry took Frank by the hand and ran. But Frank soon tripped with an audible crack and fell to the ground, holding his leg in pain.

“Leave me, I won’t make it, run Harry!”

And Harry ran again, leaving Frank behind, too horrified to look back at the cause of the defining ripping of flesh and Frank’s painful screams.

Harry ran until he was out of breath, his legs in shooting pain. Whatever had taken Frank, seemed to be gone, for now. His heart sank, thinking about Frank. Dying in the Game gave the company full rights over your physical body and mind for use and research as they saw fit. A cognizant toy and permanent fixture in the Boss’s world.

Harry set off again, up a winding trail into the mountains. There was no choice, remain still and die like Frank or keep moving. With each step forward, a mantra of hope formed in Harry's mind; reach the boss, beat the game, go home. And the cold wind carried the omnipresent laughter of one enjoying a spectacle.

Thank you for reading. This story is my submission to the S&S Invitational: September
with the parameters:
Genre: Science Fiction
Thematic Prompt:Dreamland/Dreamscape

Image Source: Ai generated in NightCafe and edited in Canva