World Upgrade

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

‘Sold. Obtained: Whisper Thread Cloak +3 Agility +5 Strength, fade to black. 1oc’

A mischievous giggle stifled behind a small hand was drowned in the slap of the waves against eight small rafts. Roped together like pairs of carriage horses to the large Tier three ship rising from the water ahead. Sound carried easily on the waves, conversations were had in slightly raised voices when their crafts spread apart to gather resources during the day. She didn’t want to raise suspicions when she was just starting.

The cloak automatically stored in raft inventory after the trade. She had swapped the Volcanic Core Amulet from her starter chest, a small simple fiery red and orange stone on a golden chain, Volcanic Core 100% fire resistance for 5 minutes 1 hour cool down, passive effect Thermal Vent, send a compressed directed pyroclastic blast cooldown 1 hour. Whilst the amulet was useful, she had no current need of it, the cloak however, she did.

Eyes glued to the horizon ahead, avoiding the gaze of her fellow employees from the old world around her, she jumped up from straddling the unlocked starter chest. Putting away her fishing rod to give reason to her excitable movements, she tried not to grin as she sliced a few small sweet potatoes. Propping them in the corner of the small cooking camp fire, a luxury she had achieved late that afternoon, she resumed fishing, pausing to add fish then asparagus as the hour closed. She highly anticipated a night warmed by fire, handing over 50% of her resources meant a much slower progression for herself. Done through trade for 1ltr bottle of water.

Mr and Mrs Lipton, her employers in the old world, solely occupied their tier three, seven bed ship. Their casual cruelty of relegating the employees they tricked into this sector, to sleep on ocean flooded wooden platforms, was no longer surprising. Their superior attitudes and behavior toward the staff were visibly deteriorating. An oppressive sense of imminent danger was growing and growing inside her every time she stepped on the ship.

Sitting two meters above the water, the tier three ship was 14x5 meters, a large spacious deck with a wheelhouse rising in the middle of two masts. Two sets of stairs descended to the cabin, one inside the wheelhouse which the staff were instructed to use, leading down to the back aft of the boat housing a kitchen galley and secure base station for crafting and storage. The outdoor stairs led to a large forward lounge and three bedrooms, the forecabin master boasting a double bed and triple the size of the other bedroom cabins. The other five sleeping spaces a combination of single bunk beds in cabins you can't spread your arms and turn a circle in without hitting something.

Her cleaning workload drastically downsized from the old world. She was finished by midmorning, to then be supplemented with gathering resources. Before announcing their new employment agreement, that effectively required no agreement at all, the Liptons had been sure to display the contents of their starter chest.

The last forty eight hours had been incredulous. Called to a 5:30 staff meeting two days ago, she sat with the fellow staff members she would talk shop with over breaks and wave hello and goodbye to, never breeching the stiff formality of the household. The employees listened to the Liptons speak of general change, each making their own assumptions as to what the couple meant. Tickets sat in a stack unobtrusively on a side table, like a batch of business cards, with no word of warning. Excusing themselves for a moment, a few minutes before six O’Clock, the Liptons walked to the other side of the house to ensure enough distance so each owned personal rafts.

The rafts spawned a distance from the ship, by the time each reached the largest thing to aim for in an endless open ocean, the Liptons were ready waiting for them. When the first rafts were in range, Mr lipton raised a large spiraled white and beige conch shell. They all heard the sound, but it was only the closest two rafts who suddenly redirected their anger. For one full minute the chef and housekeeper turned and tried to attack the rest of the staff. The chef swimming half way to the gardeners raft before regaining his senses, whether from distance or timing they didn’t know. The message was clear, no words of threat were needed. The action spoke enough.

The staff were addressed on their rafts, not permitted aboard all at once. They were congratulated by the Liptons, on their good fortune for making it to the Elite Sector. With the news of this event happening world wide, with no one spared, and no way to travel between sectors, the chefs knees buckled beneath him. Sitting defeated in the wash of the waves, his family his only thought, wife and two girls abandoned.

The Liptons ship held three small water barrels and small soil plots after 24 hours and the half resources of eight people, with a small cooking campfire on deck building a stock of Charcoal 24/7. Earning deepening looks of hatred from their staff the second night, as they uncomfortably tossed and turned on water logged beds of wood. More storage and the crafting Table quickly followed on the big ship, Base Station below filling with the basic equipment. The butler was instructed to steer the ship, following a strange broken compass setting midafternoon after completing the crafting table.

She was a hostage to Elite Pirates, working through unspoken threats of violence, starving and exhausted by the end of the night and it had been just two days. Not only were the Liptons resources not shared, staff were serving them abundance as lips parched with dehydration and stomachs shrunk with lack of use.

It was Mrs Liptons arbitrary announcement of excusing herself to bathe, removing her starter chest silver abalone bracelet and placing it on the side table in the forelounge that sparked a memory. Seven years previously at twenty-one, working a grueling deep-clean shift at a sprawling estate belonging to a tech mogul. The mogul's daughter, Regina, glided through the room with a group of friends, stepping around her cleaning bucket without looking at her, actively ignoring her working as if it was a disturbance to their sight. Regina placed a solid gold, diamond-encrusted bracelet on the marble table, leaving it as she walked out. She had stared at it, noticing how easily she could take it. How invisible she truly was to her employees, and how little these people care of their fortunes. She left it on the table.

Looking at the abalone bracelet, sitting on the table, hearing the running patter of water blasting from a shower head while she rationed a 1ltr bottle, she decided this time, in this world, she would take it.

Rod in hand, fish sizzling on the quartered sweet potatoes, she tucked back the stray chestnut brown hairs floating around her face from the clip tying the bulk in place. A futile habitual gesture as the strand was back before her hand moved from her ear. She squatted slightly, adjusting the damp form-fitting, flexible black leggings. An oversized grey hoodie smothered a thin tight black tank top. The light, thin-soled trainers, for comfort during long cleaning shifts, were useless on the raft and left in the unlocked chest unless she boarded the Liptons ship. Used to walking silently on the balls of her feet from a life of gymnastics, continued as a hobby once she was too injured for competitive sport. She maneuvered over the unsteady raft with a grace that belied the platform beneath her.

She had to keep herself busy, she couldn’t sit still waiting until dark. The last of the evening passed in a blur of gathering, she slowly loosened the knots holding her raft in place, ready to release quickly, trying to respond as she normally would when spoken to, convinced everyone could see she was clearly planning something, and going over said plan in her head like a mantra. Trying to relax into her resting face of absolute wide eyed youthful innocence, a gift her skin held longer thanks to hyper mobility, the elastic skin gave her a youthful doll like appearance, with a silky soft texture moisturizers only dried out, she willed the evening to finish. Perching with her rod far longer than the others, citing a need to catch up to their numbers to not fall behind. She pushed away the twinges of guilt for her fellow employees, but in this life, she was putting herself first.