Mr. Smith stared as the farmer doubled over laughing, sleightly agape.
The farmer had spoken a strange language, which sounded like both japanese and russian at the same time.
So Mr. Smith did the practical thing he''d seen in films, which was to point at himself and say his own name, "John Smith," and the farmer burst out laughing, as if it was the funniest thing he''d ever heard in his life.
John Smith was not amused. He clicked his tongue, and frowned in displeasure at this strange farmer who didn''t seem to be taking him seriously.
He was here standing in a field in his suit and tie. He was lost, so terribly terribly lost. So he frowned again, hoping his facial expression would communicate his massive displeasure at the situation.
The harder he frowned, the harder the farmer laughed.
It seemed they were at an impasse!
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"Johnnn..." the farmer said, pointing into the smelly hole inside his outhouse, and John Smith''s eyebrows shot through the roof in final understanding.
"How undignified," muttered John Smith staring down the whole, into the disgusting pit, rank with the smell of human excrement, which was now a synonym for his first name. "Oh how undignified, I''ll have to go by Mr. Smith from now on, if I don''t want more people laughing at me."
Mr. Smith sighed dramatically, and choked on the inbreath of the rank air, stumbling out into the evening light, coughing horrendously. The farmer Tikjab slapping him on the back goodnaturedly.
The farmer Tikjab seemed like a nice enough fellow at least. They''d been trading language back and forth, pointing at various things for hours, and the farmer, still had a smile on his face.
He was a lean weathered man with a gap toothed grin and greying hair, wearing overalls, and a straw hat. His wife was plump woman, who had also laughed in John''s face, at his poop name, or maybe tittered or giggled a bit at least.
"Why is this happening to me," John remarked to the ceiling of the farmer''s house, pulling the old blanket closer around him.
Running over the events of the previous day in his mind, John tried to understand where it had all gone wrong.
He had woken up early that morning, to hopefully close a deal on a new property for a rich client. He''d been going back and forth with the owner, and gotten him down to a reasonable ballpark number.
The house was off in the foothills near boulder colorado, sitting at the top of a rise, with a beautiful view of the plains stretching out into the distance.
John had let himself in, with the extra key, and begun wandering around, waiting for the owner to arrive. The owners father had collected a myriad of ancient and interesting treasures from around the world, and the house looked like a mix between museum, and an episode of horders.
He was wading through a veritable mishmash of old junk, in one forgotten room, and spotted an old wardrobe that looked like a valuable antique. He examined it closely, appreciating the fine finished dark wood, waxed and intricately carved into strange patterns and symbols spread across every surface, even the legs and door handles. He''d never seen anything quite like it. It didn''t look chinese, or european, maybe it was african? But, africa wasn''t known for its antique wardrobes. He waded over, through the piles of miscelaneous stuff, being as carful as he could.
But as he opened it, entranced by the carvings, a giant statue of an eagle made of marble, wobbled precariously on top.
The eagle statue tilted, falling as if in slow motion, its ruby eyes reflecting in the dim light, like a murderous predator diving in for the kill.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Its stone beak struck Mr. Smith a great blow to the head, and he fell over unconscious into the old wardrobe. The door closing him inside with a creek, as his blood flowed into the relief carvings, and mysterious symbols on the inside of the mysterious object.
He remembered a falling sensation, as if he was falling upward into a great tunnel, unable to breathe or even think, as a pain greater than he could ever imagine tore through his mind and soul. He remembered a blue light brigher than he could possibly imagine searing into his mind, as if those occult symbols on the wardrobe had come to life and become a god, omnipotent and omniscient and omnipresent. The radient blue symbols spiraling out into the darkness froze his mind, as if he was Bill Gates presenting the newest version of windows, or neo being pulled out of the matrix. The socket unpluged. It felt like death, or maybe it was.
"Did I actually die?" he thought to himself, then how am I still alive.
The next thing he knew, he was stumbling out of a forest into Tikjab''s field, and saying "Hey I''m poop, what''s your name?" In a suit and tie.
He forwned, focusing on the falling sensation, meditating on the radiant symols as he was drifting off to sleep. That''s where everything had started to go wrong. He drifted into the sensation, and it felt like he was falling up out of his body. Just like if you tip a chair back sleightly too far, and start to fall backwards. His eyes sprang open, revealing a blue screen floating in front of his face.
Gah! he screamed, softly.
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9201%" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 100%">Ding! UnlockedLegendaryClass: System Traveler</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9201%" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 99.0224%">Would you like to accept theLegendary Class System Traveler Yes/No?</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
What the ****, he swore, staring at the floating boxes, his eyebrows shooting up up into space.
{0____o)
"I don''t understand, I don''t understand, I don''t understand," John Smith muttered into the night, finally falling asleep, but dreaming of mysterious blue boxes that chased after him, calling him poop, and stabbing him with a pitchfork,. He ran and ran, endlessly in his dream, trying to explain to the blue boxes, that he didn''t understand, but they just kept stabbing him with pitchforks, and calling him poop, and it hurt, as he fell upwards into a great tunnel.
A Vast expanse of blue energy greeted him like a nebula in a stary galaxy. He floated through it breathing it in, and it energized him, filling him with potential. It felt like he drifted half sleep for hours, then days, before he felt like a buble ready to burst. Spotting a silver cord, he followed it back, and down through a great tunnel.
-----------------------------------------------------
Mr. Smith woke up with a start.
"Gah!" he screeched. "I don''t understand, I don''t understand, I don''t understand, what is happening." He breathed raggedly, staring at the mysterious blue boxes the assaulted his vision.
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9201%" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 99.0224%">Ding! You have seen the System and imprinted it onto your soul. You can absorb mana directly from the ethereal plane - Title unlocked: System Node [+50% experience gain through all sources, Basic Permissions Unlocked]</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9201%; height: 17px" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr style="height: 17px">
<td style="width: 99.0224%; height: 17px">Ding! By absorbing mana directly through the ethereal plane you have gained the Title: Ether tapped [regain mana 1000% faster than normal] (DANGER!Ethereal beasts can sense you)</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9201%" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 99.0224%">Ding! Unlocked Hidden UniqueClass: System Technician</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 99.9201%" border="1">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="width: 99.0224%">Would you like to accept theHiddenUnique Class: System Technician Yes/No?</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
But Mr. Smith did not understand. He had never played games, he didn''t know what a Status was, or a Class, or even experience points. He was a clueless, normal person trapped in a game like world who really just wanted to go back to doing high value real estate sales transactions. His mind was a blank, and his frown was never going to turn upside down, because Mr. Smith did not understand. And, he was annoyed, because in this world his first name meant poop.
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