Thirty-two Straight Days

“Yo, yo. Can I get an audio check? Thumbs up in the chat if you can hear me and the gameplaaay.”

FactorB is live. Again. His audience cannot get enough of the daily entertainment through his immersive Twitch streams. The kid had landed three sponsors in a matter of weeks amid the rapid growth in subscribers. Indeed, thirty-two straight online streaming days can do that.

Luckylucy98: Sound is good

Sunsetben: We good

Zuber: Why is everyone watching this liar?

OtterOtis: Hi FactorB!

Eazybeazy: LETS GOOOO

The chat rapidly spams up the side monitor.

“Gameplay sounds good? Okay, cool. Yeah, what’s up everybody?” FactorB cuts his tired voice into the adjustable mic stand dangling beside his desk.

“We just got going in this new game, Cyberpunk 2077. And we are not ending stream until the main story is complete! Woo! Everybody’s been rockin’ this open world. I’m already diggin’ the graphics. Look at that building. Holy shit.”

The gamer pans within the video game city as the crimson sedan zooms through the dark tunnel. With his signature forest green headset cradling his thick head, FactorB ignores the sweat trapped in his ears.

“Yo, Proud lemon, thanks for the sixteen months.” Keep the money coming. “And we got Pancake rabbit on a twenty-four stream streak. Hype!”

Mr_Sonics: stopping at red lights is fr chumps lol

SilverhandLuke: FactorB, 2 legit 2 quit

Pancakerabbit: Yes sir

Meanwhile, the HUD spins with the city’s grid, streaking in teal in the screen’s upper right corner. Chipper weather in-game contrasts with the thunderstorm pelting the one-bedroom house that protects the remote streamer.

“Find the cyberpsycho on the pier… The pier. Oh, I see. I gotta park it and get out there on foot. Alright, V. Let’s get it!” FactorB guides the main character into first-person mode, walking down the shadowy stairs below the steep underpass.

“Oh, shit. Chat, we got a dead body chillin’ on the steps here. Lost all your blood, sir?” And the screen warps from the blazing white sun to the green-washed scanner mode. “Scan results are…corpse?!” He leans into the mic for an audible gulp. “Cause of death…shot in head from military-grade rifle?! Chat, this could be bad, bad, bad. Sheeesh! Is there like a super boss fight already?”

Vorn: Spooky

ItsSmokeSquirrel: Aw hell nah

Zuber: Bennett is a fraud

Fraud? Lousy poser. The streamer shakes his head and stifles a retort. Jealous of my sponsors. He disables the in-game scanner mode and walks V up to the eerie roadway leading to the pier. More bodies lie sporadically in bloody pools ahead. Still, the mark of the cyberpsycho looms on the HUD’s edge.

“Okay, just gonna keep moving. Yo, who else has played this game already? Am I genuinely crazy to even try beating it in one day?” FactorB asks. From the webcam display in the stream’s upper left corner, FactorB’s bloodshot eyes dart back and forth. The third week in a row that Bennett had attempted a twenty-four-hour stream.

Eazybeazy: Ya, this game is noice

zini: Only FactorB…Crazy af

OtterOtis: Loot the bodies

The first-person camera pans down to the nearest dead body: face down, tiger-striped jacket, and charcoal dress pants.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Loot is…shotgun ammo. Guessing that will come in handy. Never bring a knife to a gun fight, as they say!”

Lucky for the audience, the sight of scrunched energy drink cans and shredded chocolate candy wrappers remains concealed off-screen. And FactorB contains his own stench of unwashed laundry with a Febreze can beside his cluttered desk.

Relic93: Is stream lagging for anyone else?

AWPzzz: Boooo

MVPlanet: lag lag lag

Shit. Not now! “Ahhh, hang on. Chat, sorry. Having some connection issues. There’s a giga-storm passing through right now.” Gotta save these sponsorships. To double-check the PC connection, FactorB ducks off camera. The gameplay remains still, with V facing the bright sun, beaming around the low building at the pier’s end.

“Yeah, I thiiink we’re okay. Chat, you still with me?” The streamer jiggles his mouse across the OBS. He offsets one earcup. A massive boom of thunder strikes outside.

cheeto_burrito: raining on the parade

housemouse1: :((((((

Zuber: Who knew Bennett cheated on his gf??

The hell? Zuber needs to f’ off. FactorB had spent the last two weeks hiding from the rumors. Streaming to escape. The internet was not supposed to know what happened between him and Mia. And the troll chatter’s comments highlight the drama clinging to Bennett. So long as the twenty-two-year-old faces a screen, torment follows.

“Aghhh. Sorry, sorry. This is so scuffed. I wanna keep go—”

BOOOOM!

Darkness. Shiiit. Lights, camera, monitors—all of it disabled without power. The pattering of heavy raindrops above invades the otherwise silence. No more stream, no more sponsors. FactorB plucks the fitted headset from above and slams it on his desk. In this case, his eyes still fought to distinguish the bedroom’s surroundings. All the color had vanished.

Bennett cheated on his girlfriend… The streamer slumps in his gaming chair, picking at crisp holes in the mesh armrests. All these people want is entertainment, and now in the stillness, FactorB becomes plain again. A nobody. The average, mortal, unrecognizable Bennett Grimes. A human just trying to navigate his life honorably, yet remaining vulnerable to honest mistakes at every inflection. They don’t know the whole story…

With finger cramps waning, Bennett grabs his phone and turns on the backlight. His crusty bare feet. The dank carpet. A mess of assorted cables snaking between metal boxes and power cords. Thirty-two straight days without so much as getting up to pee, stretch, and fall into bed. On impulse, he stands, rubbing his stiff shoulders. His feet struggle to bear weight before he exits the cramped space into the hallway leading to the back door.

Bennett’s rubber rain boots wait as he places his phone on the spare table. To view the backyard, he peeks through the window blinds. Raindrops fall gently in front of the pine trees, guarding the woods beyond. The storm slows, but the outage might persist for hours. Without screens and the entire internet craving his attention, Bennett slips into his boots and exits.

Fresh air. Soothing water. Nature envelopes the kid’s dreary body. In a trance, he steps across the miniature lawn, ogling up at the dense trees towering overhead. He tucks into the tree line, the gentle cascade of rain echoing all around. But under the tree canopy, Bennett finds safety. His violet Twitch T-shirt and faded orange shorts remain dry. No amount of addictive video games, sponsorships, or internet trolls could reach him at the moment.

As his meager house shrinks in the distance, Bennett slows to a mighty oak tree—its trunk wider than two of his own wingspans. The coarse bark feels nothing like the smooth plastic of a six-button gaming mouse. He cranes his neck, not aching for once, and the seemingly infinite tower disappears into the green sky of leaves. This forest allows the streamer to exist. To breathe simply as Bennett Grimes.