Chapter 8
Tasha groaned, peeling her eyes open to a boring white ceiling.
She shifted, feeling oddly light, like she’d just had the best nap of her life.
Sitting up, she scanned the room–a dinky motel, small but clean enough.
Not a single person around.
“Hey, System, what’s the deal? Why am I crashing here?” she asked, scratching her neck.
The System’s voice was cool as ice. “Host, your health bar tanked to 24. You blacked out on set.”
Tasha flexed her fingers, smirking. “I’m feeling solid now, though. Like, real good, not some fake adrenaline buzz.”
Then it clicked, and she shot a look. “Hold up, System. You didn’t cash out all my convertible weight while I was snoozing, did you?”
The System went quiet for a sec, like it was side–eyeing her. “Seriously? You’re half–dead and still obsessing over your weight?”
Tasha raised her arm and nearly choked. It was a twig. Like, skin draped over bone. She’d never been big, but this was straight–up skeletal.
“System! What the hell? You said 50 kilos was my limit! Base weight, no–go zone! How’d I lose more?“sha asked.
The System sighed. “Look, 50 kilos was perfect for your height. Any skinnier, and you’re screwing your health long–term.
“But you dropped like a sack of potatoes, Host. No time to bulk you up. I had to trade some base weight for health points.
“Burned 10 points to wake you up.”
Tasha crunched the numbers. So, she was down to 80 pounds.
“But, Host, this is a one–and–done,” the System snapped. “You’re already a walking skeleton. Next time, what, I scrape your bones for points?”
It didn’t mention the extra 5 points it had slipped in on the sly.
The System couldn’t “get mad,” but Tasha caught a vibe that screamed don’t push it. It was kinda funny, but her gut said to
cool it.
So, she waved her stick–thin arm and changed the topic. “Alright, where am I? Who dragged me here?”
The System replied, “Hourly motel room, two hours, fifteen bucks. Paid with cash from your backpack’s side pocket.”
Tasha glanced over–yep, her backpack was right there by the bed.
“Oh, and the film crew dropped you off. They deal with this stuff all the time, no sweat,” System 103 added.
Tasha raised an eyebrow. “Why not just call 911?”
“Ambulance? That’s two hundred fifty bucks.”
1/3
5:07 pm DSD.
Chapter 8
Tasha’s eyes went wide. “Oh, damn. Got it.”
+20)
She was low–key thrilled, mentally thanking the crew. If she had to shell out two hundred bucks for a little heatstroke, she’d probably pass out again.
“It’s just heatstroke. Chill out, nap a bit, and you’re golden. So they brought you to the nearest motel,” System 103 said,
Happy her wallet wasn’t totally screwed, Tasha still felt something was off.
She frowned. “That cash was for late–night snacks. How’d they know where I stashed it?”
“Psh, humans always hide their cash in the same spots. And trust me, they ain’t paying your tab.”
Tasha nodded. Made sense. She let it slide. ‘It wouldn’t BS me, right?‘
The clock on the wall read almost one. Morning shoots were probably done, but she could still hit up the crew’s leftover food.
Tasha wasn’t about to miss free eats.
As she started to roll out of bed, the System cut in, “Hey, host, you got two hours here and only used thirty minutes.”
It added, “Money’s gone. No take–backs.”
Tasha froze, then scrambled back onto the bed like she’d been busted.
‘Forget the three–buck lunch–this fifteen–buck room was the real deal!‘ she thought.
Even in a motel, no time to waste. Tasha grabbed her backpack, ready to dig out a book.
“Hey, why not kick back for a sec?” System 103 said after a pause. “Push too hard, and you’re back to square one. Not worth it.”
Tasha’s hands stopped. A long quiet followed.
Just when the system thought she’d ghost it, Tasha spoke, soft but firm. “If I don’t keep moving, I’ll miss smy shot.”
‘What?‘ The system wanted to dig, but Tasha was already ditching her backpack and flopping onto the bed.
“You’re right, though,” she said. “I’ll chill. System, zap me with forced sleep mode.”
The system didn’t totally get human vibes, but it knew Tasha wasn’t spilling. So it didn’t push–just flipped on a one–hour forced nap.
Tasha woke up starving, her stomach growling like a bear. She hit up a corner store, sucked it up, and snagged two packs of biscuits. Down they went with some water.
Those biscuits were dry as sawdust, like they were out to steal every drop of moisture in her mouth. Gulping water while eating just blew up her gut like a balloon. Once she finished, Tasha “traded” them in, and–poof–the bloat was gone.
The system was watching her like a hawk, so Tasha played ball and turned the extra weight into a few health points. Feeling a tad perkier, she zipped back to the film set.
As a seasoned extra, passing out from heatstroke was just another day at the office. Afternoon shoots were about to start, so
2/3
5:07 pm
Chapter 8
Tasha threw on her costume quick. Nobody batted an eye at her little fainting spell.
Tasha chuckled at her zero clout but was secretly stoked. No fake ‘you good?” nonsense to deal with? Score.
G7
11
Previous life, Tasha was a total pushover, thinking everyone was her bestie–mistaking shade for kindness and pranks for pals. No wonder it all went south.
This time, she kept it low–key. Not ‘cause she couldn’t vibe–she just wasn’t here for the chit–chat.
After wrapping, Tasha swung by Ironwood Studios’s volunteer station to give the staff some love.
Heatstroke had been dropping people like flies; two others got carted off that morning. With the crowds and Tasha’s plain- Jane face, the staff didn’t know her from a stranger but took her thanks with a chill nod.
3/3
