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Chapter 7
by Storier
How do you handle the dillema?
You have . You'll have to take Cloudy in to work with you
You give Cloudy a long look, weighing your limited options. But come on. She's an adult, technically, right? She's spent her entire existence in your room. If you left her to her own devices, she'd probably just sleep the whole day away, right?
"We can talk about this when I get back," you say, shaking your head. "You'll be all right on your own for a few hours, won't you?"
Cloudy gives an animated nod and a big happy smile. "Yep!"
Right. What's the worst that could happen from you leaving her alone for the day?
A picture of your house in flames and Cloudy drinking directly from a jug of fabric softener pops into your mind.
"On second thought, you're coming with me," you say.
Cloudy's eyes just about pop out of her head. "Wow, you've never taken me to work before!"
It's not your first choice, but you can't very well call in sick when you're not. The dev team, your friends, James, they count on you to be there - without you around the whole studio falls apart. And while you could call in a favor Dasiy owes you (she works from home) and have her watch Cloudy, you're not ready to explain the situation to anyone just yet. You can barely explain it yourself.
As for how you'll explain Cloudy to the team... well, you can sit her down in your office and give her a coloring book and some crayons. That should be about her level, yeah?
You finish dressing, dash to the kitchen, and grab a bagel. Cloudy comes with you, keen to watch your every move. Seeing the barefoot pillow girl standing in the kitchen reminds you of another problem.
"That's not going to fly," you say. "You don't look like you're ready to go out, you look like you're ready to go to bed."
Cloudy smiles and gives a cute little action pose. "Thank you, I am."
"Stay there." You return to the bedroom and rifle around your things until you find clothes that will fit Cloudy. The choices are limited but you're not trying to win any popularity contests here.
Returning, you push a gray sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants into Cloudy's arms. "Put those on."
Cloudy scrunches her face. "These are bed clothes too. You wear them as pajamas all the time."
"Yes, but they're also outside clothes. That dress makes you look like you're planning on staying in, or about to go sell cars by sitting on the hood." Or attend one hell of a cocktail party.
Squishng the clothes experimentally in her hands, Cloudy's face lights up. "They're so soft!"
One track mind. "Yep. It's like wearing blankets."
She marvels at the sweats. Wasting no more time, Cloudy tosses them on overtop her pillowcase dress. You also lay out a pair of your sandals for her as she does - they're not her size, far from it, but at least they won't fall off her feet when strapped on. After showing Cloudy how to strap on one sandal, she copies the technique over to the other one, and just in time.
A car horn blares outside. James.
"That's our ride."
"Cool!"
You usher Cloudy out the door. Swimming in your sweats, (oversized on her), the blonde girl appears positively tiny. She looks all around her in wonder, squinting against the sun, up until you toss her in the back seat of James's car. You climb into the passenger side seat yourself.
James greets you with a solemn nod. He wears glasses and a Ravenclaw hoodie overtop a black shirt, and has a basketball player's build - tall, skinny - with dark hair. "You're usually waiting on the curb."
His arrival time is so consistent you could set your watch to it. He drops his daughter off at daycare every workday before swinging over; you pay for gas. It's a simple arrangement. "Late start today," you apologize.
"God help us all the day you wake up late, Hugh," James says, as you buckle your belt. He readjusts his glasses and rubbernecks to look in the backseat at your plus one. "And who's this?"
She introduces herself before you can even open your mouth. "You can call me Cloudy."
"Nice to meet you, Cloudy." James reaches a hand over his shoulder to offer a handshake. "I'm James."
Cloudy regards his hand with suspicion. "Hugh doesn't want any of his friends touching me."
James takes it as a joke and pulls back. "Good to know. Are you guys dating?"
"Nope, we just sleep together," she says.
That throws both you and James for a loop, but James is quicker on the draw. "Wow, okay then. How long have you been together?" He stumbles over his words. "Er, how long have you two known each other?"
"What she means is she stays over a lot," you rush to explain, a second too late. "She's my cousin."
Cloudy proves uncooperative. "No I'm not," she says, flashing you an indignant look before smiling at James. "It'll be four years In February. Not that anybody's counting." The more she says that line, the more you think somebody actually is counting.
"Four years?" James gives you a pointed look. "Funny we haven't met then."
You meet his eyes, pleading. "I swear I'll explain later."
"Sounds like now is later," James says with a sniff. "Apparently four years later. Can't believe you never introduced us."
Cloudy looks between you and James, frowning. "Oh, you've seen me before."
This is news to James - and you. "Really? I must have taken a frisbee to the head. I'd never forget an - ah - good friend of Hugh's. Especially not one so pretty as you."
"I'm sure you didn't forget, I know I didn't," says Cloudy. "We met during that overnight car trip -"
"Like I said," you interrupt, "it's not like that."
James silences you with a stern look, then turns back to Cloudy. "So how'd you two meet?"
"He found me online," Cloudy says, "and the price must have been right, because two to three business days later -"
You clap your hands together, breaking the flow of the conversation. "We're finished. Conversation over."
But the damage has already been done. James is looking at you in a whole new light. "I see... well listen, you're not going to hear any judgment from me," he says, taking his hands up off the wheel for a second. "You're both adults, fair's fair." He thinks for a moment. "So do you guys have an exclusive arrangement, or...?"
"Oh yeah. I belong to Hugh 100%. He gets mad whenever anybody else so much as touches me," brags Cloudy, stars in her eyes. "And at the end of the day, he's down for the night the second he takes me in his arms. He loves me. He's never going back to my competitors, I'm the best night's sleep he's ever had."
Oh hell. There's no coming back from this.
"... huh," says James, impressed by Cloudy's speech. He pats you on the shoulder. "Caught yourself a real one here, buddy. She's a keeper - I'm happy for you guys. Cute that she wants to meet the team, it'll be fun!"
This is the story you have to run with? This is your life now? "Just... focus on the road, James," you say with a groan. "Now, about this next sprint. How much progress has your team made on the engine optimizations we were talking about last week...?"
"Well, good news and bad news there. We did optimize the engine. It uses about half the resources that it did before."
You sigh. "And the bad news?"
"Now it crashes after three and a half minutes of runtime, and no one can figure out why..."
You and James discuss work for the rest of the five-minute drive to the studio. Cloudy instantly loses interest and passes out in the backseat, snoring lightly. When it's time to get out of the car, it takes her a minute to yawn and stretch and rouse herself back to wakefulness. "Back seats are so comfy..." she murmurs as you drag her into work with you.
After setting Cloudy up in your office with a box of crackers and a brand new pack of dry-erase markers (there are three whiteboards in your office and you took pictures of their contents before setting Cloudy loose on them), the rest of the day goes surprisingly normal.
You don't accidentally turn anything else into a human, though you don't know why. You touched James's car, a dozen different keyboards, the door to your office, the break room microwave. Cupid said that anything you touch would be given life and beauty, but the only thing you've turned since last night is your pillow Kafka's The Metamorphosis-ing into a girl named Cloudy, who keeps wandering out of your office and chatting up the team whenever you look the other way.
Each time you catch Cloudy mid-conversation distracting your developers, she's saying things like, "Try sleeping on your stomach, Hugh never snores," and, "The design includes an active-cooling layer that wicks away heat and moisture, it'll change your life," and, "I don't care how big the rocket is, SpaceX will never surpass NASA."
Bad Cloudy, bad! Back to the office!
Each time you escort her back, you find more drawings filling your whiteboards. At the start of the day, they're fairly simplistic, featuring stick-figure houses, beds, pillows, and smiling figures hugging pillows (or sleeping figures surrounded with illustrative Z's). As the day progresses into the evening, however, a variety of picture-perfect Tempur-Pedic logos crowd the whitespace, some showing intriguing variations on the concept using new fonts or logo designs.
Near the end of the day, you stop to check in on Cloudy and find her passed out on the couch in your office. Cautiously, you creep back into the hallway, swinging your office door shut silently behind you so as not to wake her.
Suddenly, you become aware of a presence lurking behind your back.
A demanding voice startles you. "Who is that woman?"
You jump in shock.
Archer stands just behind you. Your stocky, bearded friend bears down on you with utmost suspicion, his big, meaty arms folded across his broad chest with imperious disdain. You've never seen him without a fedora or a flannel shirt and today is no exception.
While you, Archer, and James all share rank as co-founders, Archer rarely shares in the leadership aspect of running a dev studio. He seldom leaves his office - you've probably spent more time talking with the guy while you're queuing up in game lobbies together than you have face-to-face.
Prideful, arrogant, and a very odd duck, the big man is far and away the most talented programmer you've ever seen. Archer does the work of an IT department, network admin, and CTO, all in one. Your studio would've gone bankrupt years ago without him reliably pulling off miracles to save the day.
"Who. Is. That. Woman?" Archer demands of you again.
While he's a good few inches shorter than you, Archer's arms are as thick around as your thigh. While a lot of that is fat, you also know a lot of it definitely isn't.
Your large friend's face is a mask of betrayal. "Et tu, Brute? James told me everything - that that scamp used to be your prostitute? But then you fell in love and now you're marrying her?? And that she seems nice!?!" Archer blusters, fuming. "As I recall, on my 30th birthday, you told me, swore to me, that hiring a lady of the night to whisk away my precious pearl was beneath my dignity - and yet'st I then discover it's not beneath yours?" He thumps you on the chest with an open palm. "Hypocrite!!"
Dammit, you've stepped in it now. Archer holds grudges, too. He'll never forgive you if you don't make things right.
Is it possible to placate Archer?
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Powers & Consequences
It's not the power, but how it's used. For better or worse, one thing's sure: nothing will ever be the same.
Stories of those who acquire power over others, or themselves, and the unique opportunities such power affords. The temptations power incurs, and the consequences that result.
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Updated on Apr 8, 2025
by Mossrite
Created on Mar 15, 2023
by Storier
With every decision at the end of a chapter your score changes. Here are your current variables.
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