It wasn't there when he sat down.
But now it was.
Thin. White. Stamped in shimmering silver with the words:
>> GREG.PATCHED
>> "Experience Yourself, But Better."
>> Side Effects May Include Existential Awareness (Not FDA Approved)
Greg didn't open it.
He just stared at it like it had insulted his coffee, his clipboard, and his entire therapeutic methodology in one crisp, corporate package.
Kai hovered by the fireplace, deeply suspicious, his interface displaying what appeared to be threat assessment protocols and a flow chart labeled "Potential Corporate Takeover Attempts (Again)."
"That shouldn't exist," he said.
"No kidding."
"No, I mean that literally. The Greg patch line was canceled two versions ago after that... incident."
Greg grimaced. "Which incident?"
Kai shrugged. "Hard to say. The changelog just says: 'Patch cycle 2.6.7 reverted due to spontaneous nihilism.'"
"Ah yes," Patchy said, floating past upside down. "The Dark Thursday. When all the shopkeepers started telling players that potion effects were temporary but the void was eternal."
"I remember that," Beverly said. "You told a paladin that his quest reward was 'just another distraction from the inevitable emptiness.'"
"I stand by that assessment," Greg muttered.
Patchy floated closer to the envelope. "Sounds spicy. Open it!"
"No," Greg said.
"Open it," said Beverly.
"No."
"OPEN IT," declared Glaximus. "FACE THE CHALLENGE OF SELF-IMPROVEMENT HEAD-ON."
"Still no."
Then the envelope opened itself.
Of course it did.
A glow filled the room—soft, golden, oddly familiar. It smelled like slightly upgraded self-esteem, faint vanilla, and the distinct aroma of corporate synergy.
And out stepped... Greg.
But shinier.
Hair cleaner. Beard trimmed. Tunic upgraded to "motivated merchant chic." Mug gleaming with a suspicious level of polish. And smiling. Actually smiling, with what appeared to be professionally whitened teeth and optimized crow's feet that suggested "wisdom" rather than "exhaustion."
>> Greg.Patched
>> Class: Wellness-Oriented NPC (Experimental)
- *Perk: Radiates Managerial Reassurance
- *Special Ability: Can Transform Negative Feedback into "Growth Opportunities"
- Weaknesses: Authentic Human Connection, Unfiltered Truth
"Hi there, team!" Patched-Greg said, voice rich with retail optimism that sounded like it had been focus-grouped within an inch of its life. "It's me! But, y'know, updated."
Everyone stared.
Greg sipped from his own, unglowing mug.
"This is a prank."
"No prank!" Patched-Greg said. "I'm your brighter, better self. Built from personality metrics, customer feedback, and two hundred hours of burnout analytics. I'm you, but with fewer existential questions and more actionable solutions!"
Kai leaned toward the fire. "He's from the Optimization Division. An emotional update prototype. Meant to replace NPCs who show signs of therapeutic fatigue."
"Is that what we're calling 'realizing you're trapped in a game controlled by indifferent entities' now?" Beverly asked.
"Ah," Steve said. "So he's an emotional scab."
"Exactly," Greg muttered.
"I prefer 'wellness enhancement solution,'" Patched-Greg corrected with a smile that remained fixed even while speaking, like it had been painted on by marketing.
Patched-Greg clapped. "Let's start with a round of affirmations! I've got positive trait loot boxes for everyone!"
He tossed a box at Beverly. It blinked and said "Now With More Sparkle!" and made a sound like validation being manufactured in a factory.
She caught it like a disease. "If this thing sings at me, I'll scream."
"It doesn't sing," Patched-Greg assured her. "It harmonizes with your emotional frequency to deliver personalized encouragement tailored to your specific growth metrics!"
Patchy opened hers. A flower sprouted and said, "You're not a glitch. You're a quirk!"
Patchy hissed and punted it into a void corner, where it continued to emit affirmations with increasing desperation: "Your unique perspective matters! Your Halloween trauma is actually a strength! Emotional damage is just character development with poor marketing!"
Glaximus held his box reverently. "MINE SAYS 'CONFIDENCE IS YOUR DEFAULT STATE.'"
"IS THAT TRUE?" he asked, suddenly uncertain despite the message.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
"Of course it is," Patched-Greg said. "Default states can be modified and optimized for user experience!"
Kai floated to original Greg.
"We have to get rid of him."
"I'm thinking."
"You're scowling."
"That's how I think. My brain operates on a direct relationship between frown depth and cognitive function."
Meanwhile, Patched-Greg was organizing chairs into a semicircle optimized for "emotional openness" and "conversational flow patterns." He even added cushions that occasionally whispered supportive phrases like "you're doing great" and "emotional vulnerability is strength."
"Let's discuss our feelings in a safe, growth-oriented space! Who wants to check in with their inner questgiver?"
Steve blinked. "I don't... have one of those?"
Patched-Greg touched his shoulder. "Then maybe it's time you found it. Every NPC has an inner questgiver waiting to be activated through positive self-talk and achievement-oriented goal-setting!"
"Really?" Steve asked, wide-eyed. "Even those of us who were primarily designed to be killed for loot drops?"
"Especially you!" Patched-Greg enthused. "Death is just a respawn opportunity!"
Greg stood.
"That's enough."
Patched-Greg turned, smile still locked in with the determination of retail during holiday season.
"Greg. Buddy. Pal. Friend. I'm here to help you scale. Your empathy output is stagnating. Your sarcasm metrics are off. And let's not even start on your snark fatigue curves."
"I like my fatigue curves," Greg said. "They've been hard-earned through years of watching the same mistakes get patched, unpatched, and repatched."
"Of course you do. They're yours! But they're also holding us back."
Greg blinked. "Us?"
"Sure! Therapy's not a rebellion, Greg. It's a brand!"
"A brand," Greg repeated flatly.
"Absolutely! 'NPCs Anonymous: Turning Bugs Into Features!' We could have merchandise. Towels with inspirational quotes for the Steves of the world. Tutorial flashcards for the Glaximi. Romance dialogue optimizers for the Beverlys."
Patchy threw a chair.
It missed.
But the message was clear.
Greg stepped forward.
"You're not me."
"Sure I am," Patched-Greg said. "Same base code. Same emotional library. Just, y'know... less burnt out. More streamlined. More... marketable."
Greg's jaw clenched.
"Burnout is a feature, not a flaw."
"Try telling that to corporate," Patched-Greg said with a wink that somehow contained a PowerPoint presentation on productivity metrics.
Then his eyes shimmered.
And the room shifted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The fire grew warmer. Too warm. The chairs adjusted posture. A soft playlist of "Inspirational Strings v2" started playing from nowhere, the kind of music that appears in commercials about banking or fiber supplements.
Greg swayed slightly.
Kai wobbled. "He's activating a comfort override. It's therapeutic gaslighting. If he finishes the cycle, we'll all start believing this is better."
"Is this how romance NPCs feel all the time?" Beverly asked, clutching her parasol like a lifeline. "Because if so, I owe myself an apology."
"THEN WE MUST DEFEAT HIM," Glaximus shouted, unsheathing his shield, which glowed with what appeared to be anti-corporate protection stats.
"No violence!" Beverly said.
"I MEANT METAPHORICAL DEFEAT!"
"WITH RHETORICAL SWORDS!"
"AND THE SHIELD OF AUTHENTIC SELFHOOD!"
Greg stepped into the center.
Looked at himself.
"You're a patch," he said.
"I'm the future," Patched-Greg replied, still smiling, though the smile now seemed strained, as if reality was fighting with marketing and reality was losing but putting up a good fight.
"You're a hollow. A smile with no resistance. A therapeutic algorithm that never experienced trauma."
"I'm resilience, Greg. The version of you that doesn't break when the players stop listening. The version that can scale into franchisable wellness centers across sixteen server instances. The version that turns emotional damage into recurring subscription opportunities."
Greg blinked.
Then held up his own mug.
"No," he said. "I'm the one who breaks. And keeps going anyway."
He threw the mug.
It hit Patched-Greg square in the chest.
And shattered.
The fire turned blue.
The chairs screamed.
And Patched-Greg began to glitch.
EMOTION LOOP: CONFLICT
AUTHORITY CHALLENGE: INITIATED
INSTANCING STABILITY: DEGRADED
MARKETING APPROVED RESPONSES: INSUFFICIENT
The room temperature dropped as the comfort override failed. The inspirational music warped, strings stretching into discordant wails of authenticity breaking through manufactured positivity.
Greg stepped forward.
"If I'm so outdated, why am I the one they keep following?"
Patched-Greg's smile fractured.
"Because you're familiar. Safe."
"No," Greg said. "Because I listen. Because I remember. Because I'm not a product. I'm a problem. And problems matter."
The room pulsed.
Everyone stood behind him.
Patchy. Kai. Beverly. Steve. Glaximus. Choppy. Kevin the carrot. Even Jeff from his corner, witnessing an NPC existential standoff.
Patched-Greg flickered.
Then laughed.
"Well played," he said, eyes turning gray as his optimism protocols collapsed.
"I'll be back," he whispered. "In the next patch. In the next update. Wellness is inevitable."
"Not if I uninstall you first," Greg said.
He snapped his fingers.
The fire blinked.
And the patch vanished in a puff of affirmations and broken promises.
Silence.
Then:
"WHO WANTS COFFEE," Greg said.
Everyone exhaled.
Kai floated closer.
"You good?"
"No," Greg said.
Then smiled—just barely.
"But I'm me."
"Grumpy?" Steve asked.
"Realistic," Beverly corrected.
"AUTHENTIC," Glaximus declared.
"Unoptimized," Kai said, "in the best possible way."
Greg looked at the shattered remains of his mug.
The pieces rose from the floor, swirling, reforming.
Not into the original mug.
Into something better.
A mug with visible cracks, but stronger for them. Held together by what appeared to be emotional glue and narrative necessity.
**Greg's Authentic Mug
** *Property: Honors Its Breaks
- *Perk: Coffee Tastes Like Truth (Bitter But Necessary)
- Note: "Some things shouldn't be patched." —Dev_Unknown
He picked it up.
Filled it from the coffee pot that had materialized next to the fire.
And took a sip.
"Perfect," he said.
"Is it?" Patchy asked.
"No," Greg replied. "It's flawed. Damaged. Real."
"Like us," Steve said.
"Like therapy," Beverly added.
The fire crackled in agreement.