Friday, winter 2009.
Today I called in sick and I didn’t go to work. I needed some time by myself to put my thoughts in order. You know, working as a Paramedic is so energy consuming that it does not only prevent me from thinking but also from cleaning the house. The toilet was disgusting!
After putting some order on my own mess, I went wandering through the orchard’s trees. The image of the two mansions I have as neighbors haunted me. It’s not easy to wake up every morning and see how luxurious life can be when all I have is a kitchenette that only recently got a proper flooring.
To ease my troubled mind, I kept walking. I walked all the way to my (almost) exclusive beach and back, to the opposite direction. And then, all of a sudden, I tripped over a bright and large stone. I lowered myself to collect it just to be surprised by the fact it was a diamond! Going forward a bit more I discovered an old mine and a small amount of silver near its sealed entrance. Would that be a sign? A sign that richness is out there just for me to take?
As a Paramedic, I work hard 35 hours every week and I earn 28 simoleons per hour. To buy the dream salmon house that is to sell across the street I’d need to gather 283.282 simoleons – at least, that’s the mansion evaluated amount I heard. I would need to work for 289 weeks to have such sum! 289 weeks! Of course I could get promoted along the way, but until the highest paycheck I would still have to climb seven positions… What if Geoffrey left the hospital for some research opportunity abroad? What if Morgana also got promoted and started interfering again on my progress?
Even if everything goes smoothly, 289 weeks are still a hell lot of weeks when you’re living in a dump and wants to start a family. And what if I’m dead within 289 weeks? Oh, Gosh… I don’t want to wait that long to start a family and neither I want to have a baby without being able to provide him with everything there is of best in the Simnation! I’ve chewing all this for the past few days. What am I supposed to do with my life?
Sell the precious gem? No. I’ve decided to keep it as a lucky charm – and the first family diamond. But I’ll certainly negotiate a good price for the silver. But what then? An abandoned mine is after all an exhausted one and I doubt I could live on from digging it any deeper. I’ve always cultivated high moral values, being forever afraid of ever becoming like my progenitor – an unfaithful and untrustworthy fool. I’ve never before thought that any good result could come from an evil beginning. But I’m starting to change my mind. Maybe it can. Maybe I’d do more money and quicker if I started a criminal career.
There are rumors out about Sunset Valley hosting the headquarters of a feared crime syndicate. Despite the newspaper’s cover being often occupied with burglar stories, I feel safe here. As everybody else also does. I know Jamie never locks her house door. When Leighton visited me the last time and I didn’t lock my door, he didn’t show any surprise and based on that I can assume he doesn’t lock his either. Iliana mentioned something about having just started locking hers, but due her kid. Well, if there were so many break-in cases I believe people would have changed their unlocked door habit now.
On the other hand if people are so carefree, start a criminal career here wouldn’t be hard at all. And after working as a paramedic and witnessing many many accidents cause by pure imprudence, I can well write that SINCE Sims are so carefree, start a criminal career WON’T be hard at all. Is it time for a coin flip? Again?
That was exactly how I got here. When I discovered that everything I had as a heritage was the bankruptcy I was both upset and paralyzed. I knew I had to go away from my so-called family, but how would I do it without money? I was unexperienced and had just got out of college. I couldn’t ask for advise: if my family bounds were about to be ruptured, how could I let a trace like a consult about how to disappear completely? So I let luck – or fate – decides it for me. While still standing in front of the bank of the city where I used to live, I took a simoleon nickel from my pocket and threw it into the air. Just five seconds later I was going back home with a master plan on my mind: go the further south I could get.
Yes, I know. It wasn’t really a master plan. It was a draft and not even a very good one. It took me some weeks to make the needed arrangements to disappear: I had to spend some money hiring lawyers to change my surname and hackers to make my filiation data just disappear from all government’s computers. After everything was done, I still spend a lot of time gathering the courage to actually move away.
This is past now. But life might be repeating itself.