The Glorious, Almighty Bucket

“167th?” Coach chuckled. He chugged down a can of beer. They were back at his place, resting on makeshift, bamboo beach chairs just outside his hut. “Just enough to pay off the entry fee.”

“Ugh…” Val leaned back. Her legs rested up on the edge of the table. “Now what?” The beach view wasn’t all that bad during stressful times like these. “What was the point in blackjack? If I didn’t win Roscoerama, we’d be in the negatives.”

“Well, I thought you’d surely win. Especially with that eye.” He pulled out another can. “Guess you’re more brawn than brain.”

“What? You’re the one who taught me! I’m—I’m smart.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am!” she insisted. “You see me fighting all the time! You know I don’t just punch without thinking.”

Coach didn’t say a word.

“Say something!”

“I’m just glad I’m not teaching you to get into college, lass.”

This old man! She viciously guzzled down some non-alcoholic fruit punch. The sweetness helped calm her down.

“Here.” Coach threw over an envelope.

“What is this? The 2000s?” She held up the paper with the tips of her fingers as if it were some kind of contaminant. “What’s with the old-fashioned envelope?”

“And this.” He flicked over a coin.

“Huh?” She barely caught it between her fingers. “And what’s this supposed to be?”

“A million simuls.”

“What?! From where?”

“Open it.” He directed her attention back to the envelope.

She ripped it open and pulled out a letter. Then she started reading… “We cordially invite you to join us at the developers’ headquarters. Enclosed is a million simuls for Roscoe—Wait. This is for the meetup with the CEO, isn’t it? Can’t I just ignore this? I mean, we already got the money.”

“You did win, lass. Might as well go. Could be a new experience.” He pulled out a stick of beef jerky and started chewing. “Maybe you can cheat him out of some bucks.”

“You know I’m done with that life.”

“Well, I’m not saying to return to that, Val. But sometimes, opportunities present themselves. Better do good not to miss ‘em.”

Opportunities? Was this really an opportunity? It felt more like a hassle. Maybe even a waste of time. She turned to Coach. “Are you coming with?”

“No. I’ll have to stay here and find more tourneys for you to win.”

“Didn’t we just win a mill?”

“It’s only a hundred thousand when you convert it.”

“Oh.” That amount couldn’t even get half decent eyes on the market. Maybe just barely enough to get basic replacements. “That’s pretty shit.”

…

“And this here…” Azan continued droning on about the history of Simular.

It wasn’t all that interesting to her. She didn’t really care. It was like one of those super rich mansions with a collection of antiques on display. Just because she'd won a dumb game, she was stuck here listening to some nouveau executive explain his most prized possessions like it was some kind of privilege. If she could exchange this opportunity with more money, that would’ve been so much nicer.

“… and this is the first object that made it into Simular.” He extravagantly waved his hands around the object.

It was just a wooden bucket. And it kept glitching out and flickering like some sort of psychedelic defect.

“My friend at the time had a weird sense of humor.” He picked up the bucket and handed it over. “Hold it. Let’s make this more interactive, yeah?”

She held it in her hands. It was surprisingly lightweight. But something about the texture… It just felt so wrong. It didn’t feel like wood. It felt like she was holding something slimy? No, was it furry?

“Ew!” She dropped the bucket. “What the hell is that? Oh, my bad. I didn’t mean to drop… that…” The bucket bounced around the floor like some deformed rubber ball.

“No, no. That’s quite alright. Everyone drops it their first time.” He chuckled. “It’s weird, yeah? The physical properties of that bucket are pretty… wack.” He picked it up and placed it back on the display counter. “I heard it was hard recreating all those senses in the simulation.”

“You didn’t make it?”

“No. No, I just manage the business side of things… And technically everything else—you’ve heard of the creator, yeah?”

She shook her head.

“Well, aren’t you out of the loop, Ms. Valerie?”

Valerie? “How do you know that name?”

“You didn’t really think”—he pointed at her glasses—“these would hide your identity, yeah? Your DNA’s already recorded in our database. It’s not that hard to figure out who’s who.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled. “But no worries. We take privacy very seriously. But it’s more like we don’t really care about what happens around here…”

“Uh, cool… Cool.” She shook his hand off and took a step back. “Can I… go to the bathroom?”

“There’s no…” He paused. “Well actually, you know what? It’s that way.” He pointed to a narrow corridor towards the back of the room. “Just follow that. I’m sure you’ll find… something.”

She bolted out of the room. Knowing her name wasn’t all that surprising, but the way he said all that and just stared… It really creeped her out.

She followed the hallway down. The bathroom thing was supposed to be an excuse. It didn’t even seem possible to use one in Simular. Wait, was that why he looked at her weird? Because bathrooms weren’t a thing? But that didn’t make sense. Why would he direct her towards this place back here… She shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. Money didn’t matter. She just wanted to get back to Coach and relax on that deserted island of his. Maybe she could walk around and find some turtles to look at. That might calm her mind.

But where’s the exit? She had been walking for a solid twenty seconds now. That should’ve been long enough, but all she found were more turns and bends. Not even a door in sight. What kind of hallway was this? It was like she was running through the insides of a caterpillar. Actually, couldn’t she just teleport out?

She pulled out the teleporter fob and readied herself for the cranial whiplash she’d felt every time she used it. But then—

Quiet sobs. The noise echoed through the corridors. It sounded like a little kid. Was it coming from around the corner?

She peeked over.

At the far end, there was a room. Clear, visible walls. On the floor was a little boy, huddled and shivering like it was cold.

What’s a boy doing here? She cautiously walked over. It didn’t seem like he could see her. She waved at the glass. Still nothing. The boy kept sobbing. Then he suddenly started banging his fists on one of the walls.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

He started to bleed.

“Hey!” What was he doing?! “Hey, stop!” She looked around for an entrance.

There was none.

“Stop it!” she yelled, but the boy kept going. She started feeling around the clear walls. One panel felt more loose than the others. She pushed it in. It moved. Was this supposed to be a door?

The glass panel swung inwards. And the boy abruptly looked up—

“D-dad?”