SHOW HOME - Chapter 9
The Squad
Leo
My chair’s lumbar shifted a notch, the seat tipped a degree, and the pressure across my shoulders evened out until my weight felt correctly distributed - time to lock in. A small vibration ran through the armrests, a calibration confirmation. A tiny icon in the corner of my monitor flashed green. Optimal posture.
In the top right-hand corner, a tile slid into place. Clean font. No fuss.
Focus Streak: active.
Posture: excellent.
Recommended: Training Loop – Squad (12 mins).
The tile sat there, calm and precise, homework I actually wanted to do. This was better than gaming. I was building in-game streaks. The streaks mapped to player scores. The scores marked me against real-world pros. The OS was building a pathway to a future where I got paid to play.
I tapped accept.
The chair tightened again, a small hold at my lower back. There was no lobby, no list of usernames, no menu to wade through. It was my usual game, but also not.
A screen overlay started counting down from five. My fingertips poised on the mouse and keyboard keys. The scene loaded in a blink: a familiar map, the overlay drawing pale routes to consider, and the best angles of attack and defence.
Three teammates fanned out with me. No chatter. No waiting. Just positions taken.
“Got your six,” one of them said. Calm. Exact.
“Heading to north-west village. I’ll stack supplies,” another voice said, almost at the same moment.
“Nice pickup, Leo,” the third said when I grabbed a stray M16 without breaking the line.
Their call-outs were perfect. No mess. They didn’t chat and miss things, or act with self-interest. They kept tabs on what everyone was doing, worked as a team, pooled resources.
They moved according to my line - flanking and protecting me if I moved forward and attacked, and pushing out around me if I camped.
I paused by a tree and crouched before a grassy knoll. My reticle passed over the north-west village. Each window glimmered for me to check. Each line of fire. When I had scanned for threats, the overlay gave a small flash of green. No targets.
“Approach is clear,” I said, pushing forward.
“Perfect crosshair discipline,” the lead voice said.
“Dropping a pin on bandages,” another said, knowing I needed them.
“Flanking enemy, entering village from south. I have line of sight,” the first added, dropping a skull on the mini-map.
At the edge of my screen a small bar crept up. Focus Bonus.
We moved as a unit. No one blocked my angle. No one missed a cue. I did not have to apologise or explain my movements.
A badge bloomed on the overlay, almost transparent. Squad Cohesion: 96. Progress 32%.
Bullets in my right ear.
“Targets engaged,” the lead said.
“Good clear,” a second voice said.
My team were taking out an enemy approach. I rushed toward the lead, picking a nearby tree for cover.
“Hold the line,” another replied. “They’re reloading behind the outhouse.”
My breathing evened out. My shoulders dropped. The chair adjusted to keep my spine centred over the seat. Everything felt fluent. No one argued about roles. No one spammed emotes or messed around. We applied ourselves to the mission.
A soft buzz on my desk. Not loud. Just enough to pull my eye off the screen and glance at my phone. To keep me in the zone, the overlay showed the message at the top of the screen.
JAMIE: BRO U ON? COME PLAY LOL WAT MAP R WE DOIN
All caps. Typos. No plan. The block of text smeared the clean line of the route for a second. The green bar of Focus Bonus slipped down a notch. A red flash. Above it, a prompt card slid into place. Neutral. House font.
Respond later to protect focus?
Auto-reply: “In training, brb”.
A thin ring started to shrink around the prompt. Ten seconds to choose.
On screen, the squad reached a choke point. “Running to tractor for cover,” the calm voice said. “Push forward on my count.”
My eyes twitched towards the message. My character paused. The prompt held steady in the same spot. Gunfire started.
“Protect focus,” I said. “Send reply.”
The message faded from the screen. A green flash. Auto-reply sent. Focus preserved. The green bar went back up a notch. My route was clear and protected.
“Moving forward,” I said.
Relief landed in my chest. I had been tense about missing the angle but now I had the best cover and the best vantage.
In the corner, the overlay confirmed:
Focus Streak plus one.
Posture plus one.
Squad Cohesion plus two.
The chair nudged my lower back, a small correction, and the reticle steadied on a line of sight through the outhouse door and out the back window. An enemy head appeared. Click. My bullet popped his helmet off.
“Clean,” the lead said. “Advance on the flanks.”
We pushed forward. Footfalls matched mine. Call-outs arrived exactly where they should.
“Nice line, Leo.”
“Covered.”
“On your mark.”
I rushed the enemy - reflexes sharp, movements clean, shots on target. Everything stayed green. I got two head shots and the Best Kill award. For twelve minutes it had felt like the world belonged to me.
The session ended on a soft chime. The overlay confirmed my performance.
Streak preserved. Team Work: 94. New badge unlocked: Consistency - level 3.
The room came back into focus. The chair released a fraction of pressure.
I glanced at my phone. Did I want to play with Jamie? The dashboard floated a tidy summary on the monitor.
Focus maintained.
Cohesion improving.
Recommended: Squad – 18 mins (advanced).
I felt excited. Competent. The squad already knew the plan. They made me a better player.
The phone buzzed again on the desk.
I flipped it face down and started the next run. Then the one after that. And the one after that. By the time I glanced over at the window it was getting dark outside. The light in my room had stayed exactly the same. The light level needed for focus.
The chair released a little of its hold on my back. A small graphic hovered at the edge of the monitor, waiting for my eyes.
Afternoon Session complete.
Performance: 93.
Focus Streak: +3.
Advanced Squad Cohesion: 74.
Recommended: Rest – 45 mins.
Underneath, a line in smaller type:
Rest now to protect future performance. Time to eat or exercise. Would you like some recommendations?
It felt like the opposite of my old games, where the point was to keep you hooked until you forgot what time it was. This wanted me to pause, so I could stay healthy and get better at the game.
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s do some stretching and get a snack.”
The armrests buzzed once, softer than before. A simple animation appeared on the monitor: a figure standing up, stretching shoulders, rolling his neck. I stood up and copied the movements. Hip flexor stretches in kneeling position, chest stretches, cat-cow pose, glute bridges, and chin tucks. My body felt great.
A quiet reminder in the corner:
Hydration recommended.
I drank water at the shown rate, touched my toes, rolled my shoulders the way the animation showed me. Not full effort, just enough to match it. When the exercises and hydration were done, a small badge slid into place.
Recovery: basic - level 7.
Rest bonus applied +2.
A line below it:
Future sessions will benefit from this break.
It felt good to have my rest scored. There was no wasted time now, only different kinds of progress.
“Shall we get some food?” I asked, grabbing my phone.
The overlay interactions switched to my phone screen.
Great idea. Let’s keep it healthy.
My phone buzzed as I reached the top of the stairs. Jamie again, in the group chat this time.
ANY PLAYAZ INNIT BOYZ LETS GETTEM
I swiped it away. I could check if they were online later, when it mattered less. Maybe.
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