He sighed, opened the Dotsy app, and decisively tapped the button.
A moment later, a new message sneezed onto the screen:
Your Power has been successfully increased.
Current Power: x2.
Your current balance: 0 points.
Noah had secretly hoped the app would show a lot more stats—Agility, Strength, maybe even Intelligence. Like in a game. Instead, all he got was that his current power was “x2”—with the x left maddeningly undefined. Whatever.
To test the upgrade, he crouched, swung the pole up across his shoulders, and heaved with both full buckets…
He couldn’t tell if they were any lighter. Maybe a hair? Yet the pole still felt like it might snap his spine—if he had one. Maybe that x was close to zero after all...
On the stairs, though, he did notice a change. This time, he got through the climb and even managed to consciously count the steps. Last time, the suffering had been so total that he could only focus on the robotic lift-set of his feet. Now the pain seemed ever so slightly dulled.
Beep-beep!
You have earned two points!
Current balance: 2 points. (Click here to learn about the points system.)
Without hesitation, he dumped both points into Increase Power.
Your Power has been successfully increased.
Current Power: x4.
Your current balance: 0 points.
So, in theory, he was now four times “more powerful” than half an hour ago—whatever that meant. He ought to be able to feel a change like that.
Impatient to reenact the stairway torture, he headed down to the pump and began filling a bucket again.
That’s when he hit a new snag: the brimming bucket refused to lift off the floor. It was like it had grown roots into the stone. He strained with everything he had and only managed to bend the handle. The bucket itself didn’t budge.
As if the admins were saying: Those next two points will have to wait. Rest up, Noah…
He had no intention of resting. If the bucket wouldn’t come up, fine—he’d fill the other one while holding it in the air above the first, where it couldn’t glue itself to anything...
That clever plan blew up instantly. The moment a single drop of glowing water hit the empty bucket, it turned Everest-heavy. If he still had living skin, it would have been peeled from his fingers on the spot.
The almost-empty bucket tore free and slammed into the cave floor with impossible force. The ground trembled under his feet. Noah stumbled back, stunned.
“All right, you win,” he muttered, raising his hands toward the ceiling in surrender.
With his sadomasochistic routine forcibly paused, he grabbed the tablet and went to check the second grotto.
No change. No cage.
* * *
While he waited for the mysterious “charge” to drain, Noah spent most of his time in the big-ass grotto, keeping vigil by the twin abysses. He was still hoping the cage would show. For more comfortable guard duty, he lugged over a chair and the desk; apparently, the admins didn’t mind him moving furniture around.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He also kept checking his YouTube page, his only tether to the time of the living world. New comments began to pop up not only under the latest report, but under older videos too. It looked like Ivan from Burbash had just become a regular viewer.
Four regulars—that was a great start!..
After a few long, empty hours, he decided to break the silence with another report. Unfortunately, he had only one new discovery to share: the two Everest-weight buckets that kept him from earning points whenever he felt like it. And he did feel like it. Suffering on the stairs suddenly seemed far more meaningful than sitting for hours in one spot, staring at a screen. Exercise is healthy, right?
The admins clearly disagreed.
He said as much on camera, uploaded the clip, and re-armed himself with patience. It struck him as odd that after so many days of silence and isolation, he hadn’t gone mad. Perhaps because he had no brain to go mad with? In any case, he felt like a reigning champion of loneliness. Even his channel backed it up: his first report had gone up exactly one month ago. Thirty days…
Try as he might, he couldn’t track the flow of time. He remembered sleeping only twice—if you didn’t count waking by the abyss. Everything else seemed foggy. One day bled into the next; only the numbers under YouTube videos changed. Worse, he only checked those numbers now and then—and usually not under his own videos.
Those stretches when he combed for details, or sat perfectly still watching an experiment—he had no idea how many hours, even days, slipped by. He didn’t remember. The only thing that yanked him from stasis was the faithful tablet warning of a critical charge. He suspected the caves lacked a proper stimulus—something to anchor time. Something to keep him from “sleeping” with his eyes open.
Too late to add that to the latest video, but he jotted the thought in the notebook. Next time, he’d ask his four loyal viewers to post something every day—just to help him keep time. Shameless? Sure. But the idea of losing days of real time to a moment of inattention unnerved him. He didn’t want to get used to it. One day, he might stare into a crack in the stone and not notice until YouTube had gone bankrupt…
* * *
Beep-beep!
“Warning! Only 10% charge remaining!”
For the first time ever, Noah was genuinely glad to see the low-charge alert. Time to suffer properly and refill the point stash.
As he worked the buckets, the same unease crept over him—the same bad feeling he couldn’t place. Something was off, but what? The humidity? The temperature? A new smell?
He paused by the pump with the buckets and tried to sniff out the source of the anxiety.
Hmm… It seemed to show up only while he was refilling the charge. Did that mean something was wrong with the buckets? Or was it simple guilt, knowing he was feeding his abyss with liquefied human bodies…?
“Wait—how many buckets have I poured?” The thought jolted him.
He’d thought he was on his fifth run to the edge, which was why he’d let himself pause and ponder. Ten buckets, same as always.
Yet the tablet was silent. No alert announcing that the charge was topped off.
He grabbed the tablet and checked. No message. Maybe he’d miscounted and only dumped eight, meaning two more to go.
He filled a bucket to the brim and tested—it came up easily. So the charge wasn’t full yet. Otherwise, the masochist mode would kick in, followed by Everest mode.
He hauled and emptied two more.
Still, the tablet said nothing. The buckets still hadn’t switched to heavy mode; he could lift them both without trouble.
He no longer believed he’d miscounted. Something was seriously wrong.
He carried up and poured two more.
Finally, the tablet chirped, and Noah let out a long breath. About time.
Back below, he filled one bucket—and sure enough, it snapped into heavy mode.
But how many had he poured in total—twelve? Fourteen? He couldn’t say, but he suspected today’s shift had taken much longer than yesterday… or the day before. Maybe that was what yesterday’s anxiety had been—he’d been overpouring and not really noticing it.
But why did it suddenly take so many more buckets? Was this the side effect of increased power? The more power he had, the more buckets the abyss demanded?
If so… continuing this “game” might not end well.