Monday morning arrived. Chris woke up, and for one groggy moment, he hoped the events of the previous day—the poll, the online movement, the quest—had all been a particularly vivid and stressful nightmare.
Then he saw it, glowing with a patient, ominous light in his HUD.
[Quest: Campaign Trail]
It was real.
He walked into the living room, a zombie in search of coffee and breakfast, to find Pete and Misty already watching the local morning news. A cheerful, overly-caffeinated anchor was recapping the weekend's political developments.
"...and in a stunning turn of events, a new poll shows the mysterious write-in candidate, 'Bucky Watcher,' holding a commanding lead in the Buckhannon mayoral recall election," the anchor said, a note of professional bemusement in her voice.
A graphic flashed on the screen, a colorful pie chart of Chris's personal hell. It showed the blurry deer picture next to a staggering, unbelievable number: Bucky Watcher: 75%
Pete let out a loud, barking laugh, nearly spilling his coffee. "Can you believe this?" he said to Misty, a wide, delighted grin on his face. "The whole town has lost its mind. I love it."
Misty just looked confused. "I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "It's a picture of a deer. Who is voting for a deer?"
Chris felt nauseous. He couldn't watch this. He couldn't listen to his own parents gleefully discussing his accidental, and unwanted political dominance. He quickly retreated to the kitchen, his appetite for both breakfast and continued existence gone.
From the relative safety of his bedroom, a command center that was beginning to feel more like a prison, he morbidly scrolled through the Upshur County Community Forum. The other, human candidates were in pathetic, and entertaining damage-control mode after their respective weekend disasters.
Ralph Hardwick had posted a stiff, robotic apology video for his "unfortunate scheduling mishap." He sat at his desk, a flag positioned awkwardly behind him, and read from a teleprompter with all the warmth and charisma of a hostage video. The comment section was a brutal, merciless roast.
Milla Slater had posted a series of staged photos of herself smiling radiantly at a local animal shelter, a tiny, terrified-looking chihuahua cradled in her arms. The first comment, from a user named "BucNuts82," was a devastating side-by-side comparison of the animal shelter photo and the infamous, scowling bingo photo.
Skip Jenkins, in a last-ditch effort to win back the hearts and minds of the people, had announced a "Free Hot Dog Hoedown" for the following weekend. The forum relentlessly mocked him with an endless stream of comical, food-related jokes and puns. The #BigCheeseCrisis was a wound that would not heal.
Staring at the glowing [Campaign Trail] quest in his HUD, at the objective that required him to maintain at least 10% [Voter Approval], Chris formulated a plan. The System wanted him to maintain 10% approval. The only way to get out of this was to fail the quest. And the only way to fail the quest was to get his approval rating to plummet below 10%. His strategy was simple. He would do absolutely nothing.
If "Bucky Watcher" remained completely silent, if the mysterious, deer-faced candidate offered no platform, no new posts, no engagement whatsoever, the hype would surely die down. The joke would get old. The people would get bored. His approval rating would plummet. He would fail the quest, he would be hit with the [Massive loss of [Community Standing]] and then, finally, he would be free.
Sabotaging his own campaign, through the powerful and highly practiced art of doing nothing, became his primary objective.
To prevent himself from obsessively monitoring the election, from anxiously watching his own, self-inflicted political implosion, he decided to focus on a different, more controllable grind. He pulled up his quest log.
[Quest: Physical Conditioning]
[Objective: Increase base [STRENGTH], [DEXTERITY], and [STAMINA] stats to a minimum of 20.]
This long, arduous, and unpleasant task was the perfect distraction from his political nightmare.
He cleared a space on his bedroom floor, a tiny area of semi-clean carpet amidst the laundry and empty Rocket Riot cans. He was going to do a push-up. A real one. For the first time in what he estimated to be about eight years.
He got into position, his hands flat on the floor, his arms shaking slightly under the unfamiliar strain of supporting his own body weight. He lowered himself, his form a wobbly, uncoordinated mess. He pushed up, a loud, pathetic grunt escaping his lips. One.
His arms, which were conditioned for the fine-motor-skill marathon of a twelve-hour gaming session, were not prepared for this. He barely managed ten shaky, questionable push-ups before collapsing onto the floor, his chest heaving, his arms feeling like a pair of overcooked noodles. God, he hated physical training. It's why he hadn't stayed in the National Guard.
His HUD dinged.
[System Note: User's current form is suboptimal. Risk of pectoral strain is 78%. Recommend starting with wall push-ups to avoid injury.]
He lay on the floor, a sweaty, defeated mess, being gently, passive-aggressively mocked by reality.
After a grueling and largely unsuccessful workout that consisted of twenty wall push-ups and a long, contemplative sit-down, a sweat-drenched Chris allowed himself one quick look at the community forum before taking a shower. He needed to see the fruits of his inaction. He needed to see the beginnings of his own political decay.
His heart sank.
His "Strategy of Nothing" was not being seen as weakness. It was being interpreted, by the frustratingly loyal citizens of Buckhannon, as a sign of strength.
A post from his ally, Jessica Lange, was at the top of the feed, and it was going viral.
[Jessica Lange]: "I don't know about you guys, but I love that Bucky Watcher isn't stooping to their level. While the other candidates are flailing around with desperate apologies and cringey photo-ops, Bucky is staying silent, focused, and dignified. That's the kind of quiet, steady leadership this town actually needs."
The post had hundreds of likes. The comment section was a chorus of enthusiastic agreement.
"She's right! Bucky is playing chess while they're playing checkers!"
"The dignity of silence! A true leader doesn't need to shout!"
The new quick-poll in the comments showed Bucky's approval rating had not plummeted. It had ticked up. To 78%.
He stared at the screen in abject horror, the tired ache in his pectoral muscles forgotten. His brilliant plan to fail was failing. Every attempt he made to escape his accidental political destiny was only making it stronger. He was trapped in a feedback loop of unwanted success.