Gamers: Know Your Rights

2010/05/09

201059

If you reached into her chest you wouldn't find anything there. Hollowed out, what was once mortal and soft had been altered. Changed. Rendered into the new machine. All the systems were there same as before. It breathed, it ate, it slept, it drank. But it was no longer human. No longer ubiquitous or pleasant. No longer something to be desired. Even the casual onlooker was put off. Whatever had once inhabited this shell had long since pass and now no man, woman or child would be able to place a name to it. A mere title of convenience. Something to manipulate this new machine.

Treat.

A false name. A lie. A sinister practical joke at the expensive of whosoever sought this prize. And sure as where treats are tricks are soon to follow. Perhaps the man who owned her was mad, or perhaps he had been spurned by her. The stories were many and each of them tinged with inklings of truth, and in the end if you took bits and pieces from them, along with time, you could puzzle together the legend. Whatever could be said of the man, one thing was true – he was nearly as empty as she was.

However, where his had been a slow withering from corrupt morals, a lack of ethics and a seriously skewed set of values; hers had been taken by his whim. As if in an ironic twist of fate, he was aptly named by fate. Mr. Trick. Whether his first or last or something in between, Trick was the official name on his birth certificate. An ill omen that cast a shadow over his family until he had crawled away from their all to bright and eager socially acceptable world too a slimy darker one where he could reign supreme. Often the worst nightmares are the ones that we wake to.