[TAM: Evening the Odds] Chapters 1 - 4 (The Affection Multiplier First Person Re-Write). (Patreon)

Author's Note: So… This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and by that I mean ever since I finished the David Walker branch of The Affection Multiplier. I wrote that story in second person because I was new to CHYOA and I thought that was just how you had to do it on that site. When I realized I could’ve written it in first or second person I was already like 50 chapters in.

I opted for First Person because I wanted to give David more chances to express himself in the story through narration. I tried different things and ended up deciding to go with a similar style to Oliver’s story, where the narration is David telling a story that already happened. This means that some scenes will be altered to accommodate, and I will also be making some changes where I think it’s necessary or where I think I can write it to sound a bit better. Still, I want to keep the plot and the characters faithful to what they originally were.

I kept pushing this back more and more, telling myself that taking on another project while working on another story was too much for me. I still believe that, actually. I’m not good at managing several projects at once. It messes with my head and I start mixing up what I wrote in one story and not in the other. However, I don’t want to push it back anymore or then I’ll never actually do it.

That said, I would very much like your opinion on this. This shouldn’t slow down Spirit of Lust chapters. 

Is this something you’d be interested in reading more of? 

What do you think of these first few chapters? Give it a read and tell me.

Like it says, this is just a teaser and I still have more to work on, but I’d rather do it little by little than continue telling myself I’ll get to it eventually. I hope it’s to your liking.

As always, thank you for all your support. I hope you’re all doing well. Take care.

************

Chapter 1: Introduction.

Some people have it easy. They’re born lucky, with money, with families that love and support them, with talents that let them succeed in life, and in some rare cases all of them together. Then there’s the Average Joes. They live normal, yet challenging lives. It’s a daily struggle, but one that’s possible to overcome with enough effort. They make up the majority of the world’s population.

Then life decides that it’s potty time, and all the shit falls on top of one person. Maybe it’s a single event, maybe it’s several in succession, or perhaps even a lifetime of misfortune.

This is a story about one such person and how the universe, the Cosmic Will, in its almighty, incomprehensible and impenetrable wisdom, attempts to balance things by giving them compensation for such bad luck. When looked at from the outside, some of these lives might not seem terrible. However, the feelings of the unlucky ones are real and heavy. The pain, the frustration, the helplessness… They form a mental toll on people, pushing them to believe that life might actually not be worth living. In their despair, they need a bit of karmic aid.

That’s where the Affection Multiplier comes in. Its form depends on the receiver, but its effects are always the same. It gives fondness a numerical value and increases the rate at which affection from others is gained. As a safety measure to avoid making things even worse, the effect only works up, so it doesn’t multiply enmity.

We are social creatures, we live surrounded by people. Magically becoming more likable is a considerable edge, no matter what kind of situation one is in. What they do once they receive the gift, it’s their choice. Will they attempt to live happy lives or will they get drunk with power, taking over the minds of those around them?

That is not the Cosmic Will’s concern anymore. As far as it knows, balance has been kept.

************

Chapter 2: David Walker.

I remember that night. It had only been a month and I was already thinking I was ready to kill myself. Ok, fine, that’s not true.

I’d give it one more week, at least.

Am I being too dramatic? Maybe, in hindsight, but the situation I was in was getting unbearable. My parents had gone overseas and my father, the influential man that he was, used his connections to get me into this prestigious, private pre-university academy after my high school graduation. 

Studying there would give me direct access to any of the equally prestigious affiliated universities after graduation. Sounded like a waste of two years to me, but I didn’t know what university to go to or what I’d even study, so I wasn’t that upset about the two extra years to think it through. Besides, studying is the only thing I’m good at, and even then my older brother has always been better than me. I’d get my own room that was only a 10 minute walk away from the academy, I’d get top quality education at a fancy school and all the freedom a healthy 18 year-old young man could hope for. Pretty sweet deal, huh?

Yeah, no.

Turns out I was enrolled in Hayes Academy, an all-girls school, from the headmistress to the students to the janitors. At first I thought they had started accepting men and that I wouldn’t be alone, but alas, my father was just that influential, apparently. He managed to convince the headmistress to let me in. Only me.

Hayes Academy is renowned for its quality education, so my father was adamant I came here, but I cursed his stubbornness, his cluelessness and his name from my first day in that accursed place.

What was he even thinking when he got that pretty idea in his head? I kept telling myself that he wasn’t thinking at all, because he didn’t see any of this coming. First off, and probably a blessing in disguise, the school doesn’t have a male dorm. I was given an old wooden storage house as a room. 6x8 meters, practically a shed. Okay, the size wasn’t the issue, really. I had to spend the better part of a week cleaning all the dust and making it a half-decent living space. At least it had been fitted with basic living amenities. The single bed and the kitchenette with an old electric cooktop took plenty of space away already. Incredibly enough, there was a bathroom, too. It was tiny, the toilet was brown with dust when I got here and the shower had no glass panel or even curtains. Back in the… living space, there’s also an old school desk, a flimsy plastic chair and a wooden shelf where all the stored sports equipment used to be. The concrete floor and the small holes in the wooden walls made the room permanently cold at this time of year. Another neat little touch was how the only two windows had iron bars on the outside, giving my new home a delightful prison feel to it.

That was all fine, really. I was used to a bit more… luxury than that, but it had hot water and electricity, so I could make it work. Compared to school itself, this dump was a safe haven.

Yeah, the REAL problem was my classmates.

And the headmistress.

And the janitors.

It hurt my chest just to think about it. Every person in that school hated my guts for some unknown reason, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that. In my first month there, I’d been insulted to my face, threatened, laughed at, mocked and even spat on a couple of times, and I had no idea why. I had barely spoken to anyone, mostly because no one wanted to speak to me.

Then there was the headmistress and her very direct threat. “Break a single rule here and I’ll make sure you never have a roof over your head ever again,” were her words And this woman was supposed to be friends with my dad? Then I don’t want to meet his enemies, of which I’m sure he has plenty.

I had no support from anyone. My family was far away, the teachers ignored me, and despite accepting me in her school, the headmistress clearly wanted me gone.

I never felt more alone.

************

Chapter 3: A smartphone app.

It was late one night, so I told myself I’d watch one last video on my phone and then I’d go to sleep. I really didn’t want to, because sleeping meant the next day would come sooner. But if I didn't, then I’d have to go through another awful day while feeling exhausted.

My eyes itched. I told myself it was the bright screen in the dark room. I didn’t want to cry again. Dad always said it never solved anything.

I closed the video app, but when I did, I saw something weird on the home screen. Something I didn’t remember being there. It was an app icon with the image of a red heart and a green plus sign. Underneath it, it read ‘Affection Multiplier App’.

Was it something I installed without realizing it? Maybe I clicked something by accident? I was so tired those days that sometimes I couldn’t remember my trips to the bathroom.

I ignored it and went to sleep, wrapped in all two thin blankets and curled into myself to try and escape the cold. I was considering buying more blankets to do something about those cold nights, but it was hard to find the strength to do much. I was lacking in strength to even care.

It was a cold night when I went to sleep and it was a cold morning when I woke up. I made myself the most basic breakfast I could manage just because I couldn't be bothered to make anything else. Buttered bread and a cup of coffee. The old kettle was making the coffee have a bad taste, I thought, but I couldn’t even be sure of that. 

The walk to school was only 10 minutes and I tried to avoid the chatter of people around me by putting on headphones. Still, I saw girls wearing the academy’s uniform. A black pleated skirt, a white shirt, a red blazer and a red tie. I was wearing something similar, of course. I had black pants on instead of a skirt, thankfully. As always, all their eyes seemed to be on me, and not for the reasons I’d like. Too many glares, too much secretive whispering, none of it hidden.

What did I do? What were they saying? I felt like turning back and going back to bed, but years of perfect school attendance kept my feet moving forward.

It’s situations like these that make you learn to appreciate the little things. For example, I had literature class first, one of the two classes I could claim to enjoy in that hellhole. 

I was the second to arrive. I looked at the teacher sitting at her desk at the front of the classroom. My eyes lingered there for long enough to commit the image to memory, but not long enough to get scolded for staring. It was one of the very few sights that soothed the heart.

Emma Campbell, the literature teacher. Smart, capable, in her early 20s and one of the hottest women I’ve ever laid eyes on. She had very long clear brown hair, a slender, curvy figure, hazel colored eyes, sexy full lips and a big chest packed tight inside her cream colored sweater. My… interactions with her so far had been short but inoffensive, interestingly enough. Pleasant, even, when compared to everything else.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker,” she greeted me with a polite smile.

“Good morning, Ms. Campbell,” I greeted back mechanically. Good thing, too. I was thankful for those reflexes, since they stopped me from staring too much.

If you asked me, I’d have to say she was the person with whom I had the best relationship with in school. By which I only mean she was polite, did her job as a teacher admirably and kept it at that. Maybe I let that go to my head. I felt  like I was moving on autopilot, but by the time I thought it through, the words were already out of my mouth.

“Is that sweater new? It looks good on you,” I said.

And like that, I changed my next week plans to later that afternoon!

Ms. Campbell looked at me with a puzzled expression for a moment and freezing chills ran down my whole body. Then… she smiled at me. It wasn’t just a polite smile. It wasn’t big, either, but… it was honest.

Huh. I had almost forgotten what that looked like.

“It is new,” she answered. “Thank you for noticing. I really like it.”

And just like that, that afternoon’s plans got pushed back two weeks. Problem was… How the fuck should I follow that up?

***************

Chapter 4: The Affection Multiplier App.

I didn’t have to think about it. I heard someone groan loudly and dramatically behind me. I turned around to see two of my classmates. I didn’t know their names, and I bet they would’ve hated it if I did.

“Ugh! Move it, loser! You’re blocking the way!”

“As always. Why don’t you just sit in a corner forever?”

Normally that would’ve pissed me off, yet I found myself feeling a just little grateful that their rude interruption let me escape the potential following awkwardness. Undue hate or not, I’ve… never been the best with women.

I sat down, class started and went by slowly. Ms. Campbell asked for the book assignments, and I handed her mine. It was a pretty easy assignment since I had plenty of time to read it and the book was good. She asked me what I thought of it, doing so with an expectant look.

“I liked it. I got really immersed in it,” I told her. “Kinda bummed about the ending though.”

Ms. Campbell smiled at me. “Yeah, I know. It ends on a really sad note, doesn’t it? Read the sequel if you’re interested. It picks up from where this one left off.”

“There’s a sequel? I didn’t know.” I knew what I was reading next. “I’ll get it as soon as I can.”

“These are some of my favorite books. I’m glad you liked it.” She gave me a second honest smile, but it quickly faded with a frustrated sigh. Her eyes were a bit obscured by her long hair as her shoulders dropped. “No one else seems to have enjoyed it.”

Yeah, it didn’t seem like many people in this class cared about literature, which was dumb because we picked our courses ourselves at the beginning of the year. I suppose most took it so they could escape the more science-oriented ones, like physics and math.

The conversation stopped there and Ms. Campbell looked to be in a good enough mood to even say goodbye with a warm smile. It was… dangerous. At this point I was desperate enough that the smallest acts of kindness might make me develop a crush on someone. Hell, it could be happening right now. She somehow looked even cuter than she did at the start of the class.

I had to let go of it, I knew, but that small interaction kept coming back to me throughout the day, especially after hearing even more whispering behind my back from other girls. It was like this all day every day, so I actually looked forward to lunch time, when I could just be alone for a full hour.

You know those classic and/or clichéd scenes in popular media where students eat lunch on the rooftop of their school and they’re somehow the only ones there? Well, that’s because it’s cold as balls. Still, it beat going to the cafeteria by a few hundred miles.

I grabbed a sandwich and a boxed juice from there and I was out as soon as I could. I learned early on that the cafeteria was one of the most dangerous places in this damn academy. In the short five minutes I was there, I could feel every girl’s stare piercing through me like I’d entered the women’s restroom or something.

I really didn’t know how this came to be. I knew I wasn’t under any delusions that I’d have a great time at an all-girls academy, but this level of hostility was ridiculous. Last week I had my locker filled with yogurt, all my books disappeared and reappeared filled with hateful messages like ‘go die you filthy pig’ and so on. I think it was actually getting worse by the day. I genuinely didn’t understand where all the hate came from.

Maybe… Maybe I was just naturally hateable. A single look and girls were disgusted with me.

I never thought myself the hottest guy around, but I at least believed I was somewhat easy on the eyes. I had bulky, chestnut colored hair which I kept short and a bit swept to the side. I was naturally skinny, but… perhaps a bit too much? Maybe I was a bit too baby-faced, too. Always had a hard time growing facial hair. My eyes were dark and small. Worst was that I was pretty short for local standards. 1.72 meters when other guys my age were at least 1.80 if not a lot more.

…

Shit.

Anyway, I sat alone on the rooftop area of the five-story tall main building. The school was huge and had many facilities, going from complete libraries to top-notch laboratories and even an indoor pool. Hayes Academy could very well give top universities a run for their money. The rooftop itself was ample, empty space save for the bulkhead and the HVAC units, separated by the same, tall chain-linked fences that surrounded the edges of the rooftop.

Bored out of my mind, I brought out my phone out of habit. There, I saw that heart-shaped icon again. The Affection Multiplier App.

Just reading the title made me think of some sort of Japanese light novel. Did I really install this without realizing it? Must’ve been a misclick. Still, curiosity got the better of me and I opened the app. The screen went black and I was greeted by the words ‘This is a gift. Please enjoy it!’ in pink letters.

“Gift?” I repeated aloud.

After the words disappear, there was another announcement is green letters over a black background that said:

[We recommend reading through the glossary]

[Read it? YES/NO]

I tapped yes and the info dump began.

[Welcome. The Gift of the Affection Multiplier allows your relationships with people to build five times faster. It is a passive, always-present gift and will affect every aspect of your social life from now on. The Affection Multiplier App is a useful resource to check the progress of your relationships with people through the use of an intuitive scoring system.]

I keep reading and reading. It went on to explain how negative numbers meant bad relationships, while one can consider relationships with a score over 50 to be very good friends and those with a score of 100 to be eternally loyal companions. It also said it only listed people I knew and was aware of in order to keep the app’s interface from cluttering.

Honestly, I was fascinated by the concept, yet I didn’t believe a single word. Was I really so desperate that I downloaded an app to fix my life? Well, yeah, that sounded likely. I laughed, and even if it was in self-deprecation, it was still nice to laugh at something. My laughter stopped when, scrolling and checking the app, I reached a folder named ‘Hayes Academy’.

I swallowed hard. I don’t have any kind of info about this school on my phone. Not remembering downloading this was one thing, but not remembering fiddling with it? What is this? 

With a hesitant finger, I tapped the folder, and what was inside shocked me to the core. There, in alphabetical order and even accompanied by pictures, were the names of people from this school. What’s more, they were people I recognized. The headmistress, classmates and teachers… they were all here.

What the hell? I didn’t have any of these names or pictures saved on my phone! How did this app know where I was and that I knew these people!? It could be tracking the location of my phone, but to make a folder and have pictures everyone named…

There were scores tied to each person, and most of them were on the negative side, the progression bar colored red, with the average being -25 and the worst being the headmistress with a -68.

“-68? What did I ever do to her!?” I asked to the air before realizing I was taking this more seriously than I should. This has to be a prank, right? There’s no way this could be true.

Curiosity kept me scrolling down, and eventually I spotted green. A green progress bar, meaning a positive relationship.

[Campbell, Emma: Affection Score: 32. Point History: Monday, 8:12 am (+17)]

My… literature teacher? With a score of 32? And what’s this point history section? My only interaction with Ms. Campbell was that morning, and even those were just simple pleasantries. Did that increase the score by 17?

Then I remembered. “Relationships build five times faster…” I mutter to myself while staring at my phone screen.

Could this… be real? It couldn’t be, but… I wanted it to be. I wanted so bad for it to be real.