From now on, she’ll be there when I log in and when I log off. And she said that was a genius idea. No one has ever called me a genius before.
My ears are still warm from how intensely I flushed when she said that.
Pleasing her makes me smile. So little makes me smile at the North Pole.
I covet the idea of friendship and family. Most orcs are loyal like I am, but I’ve never been fully accepted by my people here.
I was born…different. My lack of a snout makes me look more human than orc, and because of that, my parentsabandoned me as an infant. I’ve just sort of drifted from family to family in the North Pole Village, never outright rejected but also never quite fitting in with the others. But I’m also strong, and so I’ve found my niche here by working hard.
Maybe a little too hard. Everyone expects me to always drop everything and do the things no one else wants to do.
Ginger468 and I have that in common.
Technically, I’m not supposed to play video games in my free time. But the elves I report to turn a blind eye whenever they see me foraging through the toy factory’s defects. I’m very good with my hands, so I cobbled together a glitching copy of Deadsky: Survival because I enjoy games where I build things for fun. I make a lot of things here at the North Pole, but none of it is fun or appreciated.
I met Ginger468 when we were both doing a holiday-themed side quest in the game, and spent all night chatting via the message feature about our shared love of Christmas.
A few nights after that, we were voice-chatting about our favorite things, our families, our childhoods, and our careers. Not that I understand what a career is. All I know is I like to make people smile. I like to help people in need. I like beer. I like snow. I like Christmas. And, I like Ginger468.
I know that her avatar in the game doesn’t look like her in real life. She’s told me that she is the opposite of tall, blonde and statuesque like her character. But I know her so well that none of that matters. I already know from her voice that she’s kind, funny, playful, hardworking and very smart. Ginger468 is someone I could call family, and that is more important to me than anything. That is what I wish for.
A loud knock sounds at my door, and I quickly log off and shut down my computer.
I grunt loudly to acknowledge that I hear them and that I’m coming.
The loud banging continues. “Grak! Open up. You forgot to plow the streets again, and it’s almost time for the parade.”
Every year, the North Pole Village celebrates the beginning of the Christmas season with a festival on the village square. The orcs are tasked with keeping the streets smooth for the sleighs that carry Santa Claus and his family, as well as all the important and noteworthy villagers.
I will never be that person in the village. I have never done anything noteworthy enough for that.
“I’ll go get my plow,” I say, donning my furs and snow boots, opening the front door. In the doorway stands Dragu, chief orc of public utilities, and he looks upset.
“Too late for that. A crew already took care of the roads. But now we need you to yoke up and pull Santa’s sleigh around the town square. One of the reindeer is sick and it won’t look symmetrical with seven reindeer plus you. So it’s just you, my friend. Well, and Rudolph in front. People love that magical nose!”
“Yes, Dragu. On my way,” I say, resigned to this assignment.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Santa and Rudolph and the elves, even the very snooty ones. But sometimes it would be nice to be asked instead of being ordered around.
Dragu pats me on the shoulder. “Good man. Most of the orcs around here would find that a humiliating assignment.”
Nothing can humiliate me, not when Ginger468 thinks I’m a genius.
During the entire ordeal of hauling Santa’s sleigh around the square, I think about her. Her voice is soothing and attractive to me, and I replay some of the conversations we’ve had in the past.
Her laugh when I tell her that I would like to see the warm place where she lives. The sound of it makes me feel full and empty at the same time. I don’t understand that feeling, but it’sbecome a repeated pattern lately. I love talking to her, but it hurts because I know our conversation must end at some point.
One time, I made her laugh so hard without even trying. She loves to tell me that she’s amazed that I never break character when we’re in live chat.
“You’re really committed to this bit,” she had said.
“I do not wear a bit; I am not a reindeer or a farm horse. Though I do often get treated like one.”
This became our running joke once she explained it to me.
Sometimes I am sad because Ginger468 encourages me to leave my situation if I don’t like it, and I can’t tell if she’s talking about the game character or the real me. The real me is still an orc, though she doesn’t understand it. She thinks I’m “committed to the bit.”
I often try to explain to her that I have nowhere to go because I am large and green, and I think I would scare humans.
