The Saturday morning sun was brutal and oppressive. It beat down on Jawbone Park, baking the moisture out of the grass and turning the air into a humid haze. The Buckhannon-Upshur Farmer's Market was in full swing, or at least, it was supposed to be. In reality, it was in a full, pathetic slump.
Chris Day arrived, his hands shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans, feeling the familiar social anxiety. The park, which should have been a bustling hub of commerce and community, was sparsely populated. A few lonely-looking stalls were scattered across the park, their colorful awnings drooping in the heat. A handful of customers, mostly seniors, ambled slowly between the tables, their movements languid and uninspired. The whole scene had the slightly depressing vibe of a party that was about to be called off due to lack of interest.
He was here because he had promised. He had, in a moment of unprecedented social bravery, agreed to hang out with Monika. Now, faced with the reality of a public space filled with actual, unpredictable people, he was starting to regret it. He felt like a player who had confidently accepted a raid invitation, only to show up at the dungeon entrance and realize he had forgotten to equip any of his gear.
He spotted Monika from across the park. She was standing behind a long folding table laden with a bounty of fresh produce. There were baskets of red tomatoes, piles of sweet-smelling corn on the cob, and pyramids of glossy green zucchini. She saw him, and her face broke into a bright, welcoming smile that was a stark contrast to the lethargic mood of the market. She waved him over, a cheerful, energetic gesture that made his own awkward shuffling feel even more pronounced.
As he navigated the sparse crowd, a new quest notification popped into his HUD. He had a feeling this was going to happen.
[Quest: Market Correction]
[Objective: The Buckhannon-Upshur Farmer's Market is currently experiencing a critical failure in attendance and sales, contributing to a negative modifier on the [Community Approval] stat. Increase attendance and sales to a successful level.]
[Reward: 200 XP, +5 Community Approval]
Okay, this wasn't just a social call anymore. This was a civic duty.
"Chris! You made it!" Monika said as he approached the stall. She wore a faded t-shirt with the logo of a local farm supply store and had a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She looked happy, relaxed, and completely in her element.
"Hey," he said, his voice a little tight. "Nice setup."
"Thanks," she said, gesturing at the piles of vegetables. "All grown with the sweat of our brows and a shocking amount of manure." She turned to the older woman sitting in a folding chair behind the table. "Mom, this is my friend, Chris. The one I told you about, who fixed the internet with his good-luck vibes."
Mrs. Moller, a kind-faced woman with the same bright, intelligent eyes as her daughter, gave him a warm, but worried, smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Chris. Any friend of Monika's is a friend of ours." She sighed, fanning herself with a folded newspaper. "I just wish more of our friends had decided to show up today."
The Moller Family Farm stall was a colorful, bountiful display of a summer's hard work. But like the rest of the market, it was nearly devoid of customers. Mrs. Moller's worry was a quiet cloud of financial stress that hung over the beautiful, unsold vegetables.
"Attendance has been terrible all summer," she confided, her voice a frustrated murmur. "It's the heat, I suppose. And people just don't come out like they used to. At this rate, we might not even make back the cost of the stall for the day."
Chris used his [INSPECT] ability on the market itself, a wide, conceptual scan of the entire event. The diagnosis confirmed what his own eyes were telling him.
[Event: Buckhannon-Upshur Farmer's Market]
[Status: Failing (Low Attendance, Stagnant Sales)]
[Active Debuffs: [Oppressive Heat], [Low Public Awareness], [Consumer Apathy]]
He was motivated now, not just by the quest and the promise of XP, but by a desire to help his new friend. He saw the worry on Mrs. Moller's face, the disappointment in Monika's eyes. This wasn't just about XP. This was about a family's livelihood.
He needed a quiet place to work. "I'm just gonna grab a drink," he said, pointing vaguely across the park. "Be right back."
He found a quiet spot behind a jam vendor's tent, the sweet, fruity smell of preserves a pleasant cover for his cosmic meddling. He was a support class, and his party was in desperate need of some buffs.
He unleashed a targeted, strategic barrage of Nudges. He pulled up a mental map of the town, his mind a conceptual GPS of potential customers. He focused on dozens of townsfolk, people he knew from the community forum, people whose routines he could guess at. He didn't control them. He just... suggested.
He found Brenda Gruber at home, her status [Contemplating Lunch]. He applied a Nudge, subtly increasing the probability that she would suddenly have an intense craving for a salad made with fresh, vine-ripened tomatoes.
He found Tim M., the man who was always complaining about something, at the local car wash. He nudged the probability that Tim would remember his wife had asked him to pick up some corn on the cob for dinner.
He nudged a dozen different people with a dozen different, sudden, and very specific cravings for fresh strawberries, zucchini, and green beans. It was a subtle, deeply manipulative marketing campaign.
Then, he turned his attention to the product itself. He peeked around the edge of the tent. The tomatoes at Monika's stall were nice, but they could be nicer. He used his low-level [Modify Object Property (Minor)] skill, a tool he was quickly coming to love.
He focused on the bushels of tomatoes, the function's interface appearing in his vision.
[Target Object ID: tomato_bushel_moller_farm_01]
[Modify Property: Appearance]
[New Value: "Vibrant and Juicy"]
He executed the command. A faint, almost invisible shimmer of light, a wave of pure, conceptual data, passed over the tomatoes. They didn't change size or shape. But they suddenly seemed to glow with a healthy, irresistible vibrancy. They were now, on a core, metaphysical level, the most perfect-looking tomatoes in the history of West Virginia.
He had buffed the produce. His work done, he walked back over to the stall, a quiet, confident smile on his face.
A steady stream of customers began to pour into the market, a sudden shift in the day's foot traffic. Many of them seemed to be making a beeline for the Moller Family Farm stall, their eyes drawn, as if by a magnetic force, to the incredible-looking tomatoes.
"I don't know what it is about your tomatoes today, Carol," one woman said to Mrs. Moller, her voice filled with a awe. "They just look... healthier than usual."
The market was soon bustling with activity, the lethargic atmosphere replaced by the happy, chaotic sounds of commerce. Monika and her mom were struggling to keep up with the sudden demand. They were selling out of corn, of zucchini, of strawberries. But mostly, they were selling tomatoes.
Chris hung out at the stall, enjoying the success. He bagged groceries. He made change. He chatted easily with Monika, the social anxiety that had crippled him for years a distantly in the back of his mind. He was in his element. He was a hero.
=========================================
Across the now-crowded park, Jessica Lange was jogging. She had her headphones in, a high-energy pop playlist pushing her through the last leg of her run. She was feeling good, the endorphins a pleasant, warm buzz in her system.
She slowed to a walk as she entered the park, pulling out her headphones and wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead. She saw the farmer's market, and she was surprised. It was usually so dead on a Saturday. Today, it was packed.
She scanned the crowd, a casual, disinterested glance. And then she saw him.
Chris.
He was standing behind a stall laden with vegetables, laughing and talking with Monika Moller. He looked... happy. He looked relaxed. He looked like he belonged there. A sharp, unexpected pang of something hot and unpleasant twisted in her gut.
Jealousy.
It was a ridiculous. A childish and unwelcome emotion. Chris was her friend. Her weird, secret-hero, socially-awkward friend. She was the one who he had chosen to share his secret, who had been his first real connection in what she suspected was a very long time. Seeing him fit in so effortlessly with Monika, another girl she knew vaguely from a shared sociology class at Wesleyan, felt like an intrusion. It felt like a betrayal of their unique connection.
Her first instinct was to walk over, to insert herself into the conversation, to create an awkward, three-person social dynamic that would re-establish her primacy. But she stopped herself. That wasn't her style. That was petty.
Instead, a new, more direct, and more competitive resolve formed in her mind. She turned and jogged away from the market, a wry, determined smile on her face. She pulled out her phone, her thumb flying across the screen. She sent a text message directly to Chris.
[Jessica Lange]: "Hey! Forget boring Vegetable Girl. I just found out the arcade at the mall in Clarksburg got a new VR setup. We should go check it out next weekend. My treat."
She hit send, a feeling of competitive satisfaction washing over her. The game, it seemed, was on.