Chapter Text
A notification flashes up on my screen as another complaint comes in. Around me, the sound of dozens of keyboards clack as everyone answers their own emails. If there’s one thing Joja Corp never has a shortage of, it’s complaints. I skim over the contents of the email as another notification sounds and the number of unread emails ticks up from 203 to 204. Another shipment late to another warehouse. I sigh, leaning back in my cheap desk chair to stretch my back. I try to avoid meeting the eyes of the men standing above us, watching us through the glass, and instead my eye catches the green light that flashes above all of our heads – green for work, red for our daily 5-minute break. I hear the guy behind me crack open another can of Joja Cola, so I pick up my pen and mark tally number 24 on the pad beside me. Every time he drinks a can, I make another line on the tally. After 50 lines, I treat myself to a new book or videogame. Last time, it only took me four days. I’ll go broke if I carry this on. Another notification comes in. The light continues to blink menacingly overhead. Another notification comes in. I can’t do this anymore. I feel like I’m being crushed. I’m destroying myself as I slave away for a corporation that only cares about profit. This isn’t what I want for my life. But what alternative is there? Suddenly, my grandfather’s words from fifteen years ago echo in my mind.
There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my dear, you will be ready for this gift.
My hand reaches instinctively towards my desk drawer, where Grandpa’s letter has sat for the last three years. I’ve thought about it so many times, but I’ve never been sure. Am I ready for what might be inside there? What if it’s not as life-changing as I thought?
A voice echoes out over the loudspeakers. “Worker 321, we have detected a two-minute loss of productivity. We have deducted this from your allotted 5-minute break time. Please return to your work immediately.”
Workers 271 and 371 – I don’t even know their names – turn to look at me. I stare hard at my computer, feeling their eyes boring into either side of my head. 321 tuts derisively, then turns back to his computer. From the corner of my eye, I can see 271 still looking my way. I peek at her from behind my hair. She’s mouthing something at me. I brush a curl away from my face to see her more clearly. I’ve never really looked at her face before. She’s at least 70, with long grey hair brushed back into a low ponytail. I furrow my brow, trying to read her lips. Finally, she whispers in a low voice: “Leave while you can.” She gives me a soft smile and I see the sadness in her eyes, then she quickly drops her gaze.
That small act of comradery steels my resolve. I turn back to my desk and open the letter, breaking open a delicate purple seal. I flip it over in my hands.
Dear Georgia,
If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.
I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Stardew Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.
This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my dear. Good luck.
Love, Grandpa
P.S. If Lewis is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?
I read over it one more time. I’d completely forgotten about Stardew Farm. I was only 10 when my grandfather passed away and had never heard the will read out. I always assumed it was sold. But it’s been mine all this time. My mind starts to race. Has it been neglected for 15 years? I barely know anything about farming. What if I’m the world’s worst farmer? My thoughts are interrupted by the loudspeaker ringing out again.
“Worker 321, we have detected a 5-minute loss of productivity. You have now used the entirety of your allotted break time. Please report to the Human Resources department at the conclusion of your shift.”
This time, everyone turns to look. This time, I don’t turn away in shame. I put the letter into my satchel and stand up from my desk. The woman next to me catches my eye again and whispers “Go get ‘em”. This time, I smile back. With my head held high I walk past 21 rows of workers and out the doors of Joja Co.