1
Error
I wished people had the good sense to look at their phones while I debugged their porn-ridden laptops. I had stuff to fix.
This middle-aged guy glared at the side of my face like he had to watch me, or I’d do something sneaky. What made him think any girl in her twenties cared enough to snoop into his personal life? I worked for a tech store at the mall, not the FBI. Plus, even if I did stumble upon something private, if it wasn’t illegal or relevant to why his computer crashed, I’d move on. Everyone had weird stuff on their devices at some point: angsty poems, sexy selfies, and sim-worlds populated by crushes. Eventually, everyone got rid of it. Or lost access because of software updates.
The point was: It was private. An outlet. We all needed outlets. I glanced at the power strip on the desk and sighed. This store was better designed than my ex-college’s robotics lab. I wouldn’t have to fight for a plug or worry about overloading a circuit. I’d even have some privacy if this customer wasn’t leaning over the help desk dividing ledge. It creaked under his weight.
He flicked his stubble. “You look familiar,” he said, alcohol faint on his breath.
I tugged down my black baseball cap and ground my teeth. “I doubt it.”
“How long have you worked here?” the customer asked.
“Long enough to fix your laptop.”
A far-off cooling fan buzzed in my ear like a mechanical gnat. Was someone overheating one of the demo laptops? It was definitely a motor…
The customer narrowed his eyes through tiny square glasses. “Are you one of those streamers?”
“No.”
The motor whirred louder…closer.
The customer frowned. “Huh. Maybe you bought something from—”
“Hold on.” I kicked back my rolling chair and peered over the help desk ledge. Shrieks and chatter flowed through the mall. Kids played Craft Cove in here all the time. Didn’t they have tablets? Or parents?
A voice carried from across the mall walkway. “Who’s ready for the drone show?”
Kids cheered.
Who the hell was stupid enough to pilot a drone indoors? This was a mall, not a playground.
The hungover customer gestured to my breasts. “A professional place like this ought to have name tags.”
If only my glasses filtered out assholes as well as blue light. I knew too many leering, smug tech bros—guys who thought their chromosomes meant I had to answer to them. For all I knew, he wanted my name so he could try to contact me outside this professional setting.
I crossed my arms to close my store-branded fleece jacket. “Techs don’t need name tags. It’ll be about ten more minutes. You can browse the store or the attached mall until then.”
His hand went as limp as his no-doubt useless dick now that I’d banished him. “Fine. Do I get a receipt?”
I eyed the printer on the corner of the desk. That brand was famously temperamental. “I’ll send it to your email.” Two clicks later, he had all the pertinent information, including my tech handle.
“Your name’s Zero? And you’re not a streamer?” He snorted.
God, I’d forgotten how annoying people could be.
“We’ll contact you when your laptop is ready.” I plopped giant soundproof headphones over my ears and swiveled away.
He could leave a shitty review if he had to. Men like that weren’t worth the indignity of caring. Or my real name. Besides, I didn’t need this job or his attitude. I’d fix what I had to. ButIdidn’t need fixing. I needed my boundaries. My chest tightened, so I cracked my fingers to redirect my brain, then focused on the screen.
Once the customer shuffled off to the outer mall, I was free. I tapped my toes to the beat of low-fi trance music and optimized his laptop settings. It was almost like a rhythm game: Delete. Delete. Toggle. Delete.
A few things caught my eye from a debug standpoint: one was a naked modification for a game he recently downloaded. Such a red flag. It was easy for scammers to bait horny gamers. I deleted the mod file, then ran the game from one of his saves to make sure nothing else would crash. A scantily-clad woman bared her fangs and glided toward the player to attack, her boobs bouncing all over the place. Stupid physics. But it did have a good stealth system. No wonder this game trended over Halloween last week.
My phone pinged with a text from my brother.
