Reality Dawns

Light scattered through the dark-orange liquid within the bottles littering Gary Spunk's floor and as he heard the voice of his mother he winced. "This had better be about my chicken tendies," he muttered to himself.

"Come upstairs, Gary. There are people here to see you."

There was a hint of a trace of fear in his mother's voice. Like when he scolded her for disrupting his campaigns with inane talk of 'cleaning his room' and 'getting a job'. Some days he felt that he had burst out from the loins of a monster, wet and unprepared for the harsh realities of the world. But at least there was one world that he knew. One that he mastered. And that was the World of Warcraft.

"What people? Are they Mormons? Jesus, mom. Don't let people like that inside the ... house." The men and women upstairs were, like Mormons, dressed in suits. But their shades were way too cool. Gary felt sweat drip down his forehead. Cool shades like that could only mean trouble.

A woman with an earpiece stepped forward. "Gary Spunk?"

"... Yeah?"

She cleared her throat. "The world is in grave danger, Mr. Spunk. And you are humanity's last hope."

The agents brought Gary to an underground facility and plopped him into a high-end gaming chair. A screen bigger than that of any cinema glowed with an eerie aura of foreboding. "You still haven't told me what's going on."

"I assume you noticed a change in your favorite video game over the past week." The woman with the earpiece, agent Blink, rested her face inches away from his. It was the closest any unrelated human of the female persuasion had been to him. A shiver shot down his spine.

"My favorite video game? WoW?"

Agent Blink carried on as if he had said nothing. "An armada of new players. I am sure you have heard the rumor that they are all 'bots'. This is false. They are not bots. They are the top soldiers of a hitherto unknown extraterrestrial race and according to our analyses they are currently under the impression that World of Warcraft is an advanced terrestrial battle simulation system."

"B-Battle simulation?"

"Mr. Gary Spunk. The extraterrestrials believe you are the top-ranking war general on the planet. Based on our intelligence, we have come to the conclusion that they want to challenge you, personally. If you are defeated, they will invade Earth and drain it of resources. The future of humanity, Mr Gary Spunk, is in your hands."

The fluorescent glow of the giant screen shifted in hue. It booted up World of Warcraft, and Gary was surprised to see that he was already logged in.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said agent Blink. "Let the battle begin."

A mechanical keyboard and a mouse hovered up from the floor. What sort of technology was this? They followed Gary's every move.

It was obvious from what was happening on the screen that this would be a long fight. Gary gulped. "I'm going to need some supplies."

"Anything you need," said agent Blink.

"In that case I could go for some chicken tenders. And a whole lot of bottles."

The battle raged on, with each side enjoying fleeting moments of having the upper hand. It was like fighting a superintelligent AI. Even a single second's worth of imprecision would result in complete failure.

Cheers emerged from somewhere behind him. "The whole world is watching, Mr. Spunk. We are all counting on you."

"C-Can the whole world turn around for a moment? And can someone hand me an empty bottle?"

For sixteen grueling hours Gary Spunk dueled the extraterrestrial forces. There was almost a sense of beauty to their tactics. Did this alien species have their version of Sun Tzu? Their strategies bore signs of having been shaped out of desperation and abject terror, honed and perfected at great cost. But the extraterrestrials were on Gary's turf now. And he was the undisputed master of the World of Warcraft.

Following a tactical blunder, Gary managed to overwhelm their forces and the battle finally ended with a whimper as the last of their fighters were flung into a pixelated hell. Gary wiped his sweaty brow and let out a sigh of relief. Celebratory cries erupted and the cool-shaded agents pumped their fists in the air.

"The world thanks you, Gary Spunk. Ask for anything, and you shall have it."

Gary almost collapsed, exhausted, in his chair. "In that case, I'd like to go home."

His mother chirped happily as she carried a tray of chicken tenders down into the basement. "Wow, it's so clean in here. You've really sorted things out, haven't you?"

"Tendies! You are the best, mom." Gary jumped up from his chair and grabbed one.

"Careful! They are hot."

"Ow ow ow." Gary blew on them and methodically ate them row by row. Halfway through them, he said, "I've been thinking. I think it's time I got a job."

Tears welled in his mother's eyes. "I'm so glad to hear that, Gary."

On Gary's computer screen a text document was open. He had been working on his resume. After the epic struggle against the aliens, playing World of Warcraft didn't feel the same any longer. He had mastered it all, at a galactic scale. Which was why he had decided that the time was ripe to try a new game. A more intimidating and challenging game; one he felt certain would prove to be the ultimate test.

Gary Spunk had decided he would play the game of real life.

*****

THE END.