After a month, Marke was sick of hot dogs, sandwiches, and bottled water. He was also level 30 on the “Basket Weaving” name tag. Marke and Kente had risked returning to the original ticket booth once a day and had managed to avoid getting on the ‘suspicious’ list. He spent so much time near the starter cave that he began to recognize a few faces and be recognized in return. The concession worker waved to him as he approached.


    “Howdy, Basket!” The worker, a guinea pig person named James, said. “Got a new blood soda flavor for you to try.” The worker laughed as disgust contorted Marke’s face. Marke joined in on the laugh and ordered another water with a hot dog. He chatted with James for a bit as he ate and drank. In a moment between customers, when no one was standing nearby, James leaned forward and slipped Marke a piece of paper. Marke tucked the paper into his bag and nodded at James before walking away. He slipped away between two rides and pulled out the paper.


    <code>The Elk will trade translation services for a name tag level 10 or higher.</code>


    A tent address was written under the message. James had taught him the address system, so Marke knew he could get to the tent. He walked directly there.


    Inside the tent, a fox person waved him past the desk and through a hatch in the floor. Marke climbed down a ladder to find another set of booths, like Seffu had shown him before. A huge elk person with even bigger antlers sat in one of the booths. The Elk wore an elegant dark suit with an emerald necktie. Marke didn’t see anyone else down there, but he figured there must be body guards hidden somewhere. Marke walked calmly towards the Elk, showing no fear or aggression.


    The Elk waved a hand towards the other seat in the booth, and Marke sat down. The Elk regarded him silently for a few moments before tapping the table. “The document and the payment.” Marke pulled the heaven pamphlet from his bag and placed it on the table. Marke then pulled the name tag off his chest and placed it on the table next to the pamphlet.


    The Elk’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t ask any questions, instead, he pulled the pamphlet over and flipped through it. His eyebrows rose even higher. “Where did you get this?” The Elk asked, apparently unable to resist one question.


    Marke smiled at the Elk. “Will you pay for that information?” He asked.


    The Elk glanced between Marke and the pamphlet. “Maybe.” He said. “First, the translation.” The Elk began to read the pamphlet. Marke took notes with his stolen pen in a little notepad he had won as a prize. The pamphlet described a few of the mechanics of the System and Marke would have happily drunk blood soda for a week to be able to read it himself. When the Elk finished reading the pamphlet, he waited for Marke to finish writing his notes before speaking. “I will pay to learn where you got that pamphlet.” The Elk pulled a name tag out of his suit pocket and placed it on the table next to Marke’s own name tag. Marke scanned the name tag. It was level 5 with the name of “Olt”.


    “Agreed.” Marke said. “I was given that pamphlet from an entity similar to the ticket booth workers. We were both in the ‘heaven’ section of the realm when they gave it to me.”If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The Elk clapped his hands. “I knew it! I knew there was something up there!” He said. “Tell me how you got there.” The Elk pulled out another name tag and slapped it on the table. Marke scanned it to find another level 5, this time with the name “Ayurom Ueham”.


    Marke shook his head. “I’ll trade my exact method and experience in return for my own name tag.” Marke tapped the table next to his level 30 name tag. “With a warning: I expect my method won’t work for anyone else, but I have ideas about how to make it work.” He said.


    The Elk considered the price for only a second before agreeing. “Agreed.” He said. The Elk swept the two level 5 name tags back into his suit pocket, and Marke replaced his name tag on his chest.


    Marke reached into his bag and pulled out one of the baskets he had woven on the ferris wheel. “Before I came to this realm, I had a hobby of weaving baskets like this. When I reached level 5 and didn’t have to drink blood soda anymore, I found some streamers as prizes and won a bunch so I could weave a basket.” Marke held up his bag. “I made this one first, with the shoulder strap. When I finished making it, I noticed the colors had grown less intense. I went and won more streamers to make more baskets. Oh, I wove all of them on the same ferris wheel. When I finished the fifth basket, I was no longer on the ferris wheel. I was wearing these clothes and I was surrounded by cloud. All I could see was cloud stuff, like I was inside a cloud. A ticket booth worker called me over to a desk and asked for my name tag.” Marke hesitated, not willing to expose the existence of Kente. The Elk noticed the hesitation but didn’t interrupt. Marke continued. “There was some sort of mind altering effect on me. It made me feel extremely calm and want to follow directions. I… resisted it and asked why they wanted my name tag. They said my name tag needed to be ‘converted’ to enter the ‘heaven’ area of this realm. I asked what ‘converted’ meant and they gave me the pamphlet.”


    “Then what?” The Elk asked.


    Marke shrugged. “I said I couldn’t read it, so they summoned security who threw me out.” He said. “I’m not willing to discuss what happened after that.”


    The Elk leaned back and pondered Marke’s story for a few moments. He pulled out the “Ort” name tag again. “Tell me the location of the ferris wheel and the streamer prizes.”


    Marke shifted in his seat, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t know the fair address system at the time, I’m sorry. The nearest management tent was staffed by an ant woman, does that help?”


    The Elk shook his head and put the name tag away. “No, there are thousands of management workers of all kinds and they don’t always stay in one place. Anything else you can tell me?” He asked.


    “I don’t think the streamers or the ferris wheel are important.” Marke said. “I think the important thing is that it was a calming act of creation. This place,” Marke gestured vaguely at the ceiling. “Is an uncomfortable waiting area. Everything we do is just wasting time and doesn’t lead anywhere. Making the basket brought my mind out of the struggle–I had all my needs met at the time and I felt safe and productive.” Marke patted his bag. “I think that is why it worked.”


    The Elk nodded to Marke. “Pleasure doing business with you, Basket Weaving.” The Elk dropped a keychain on the table. “Give that to the manager on your way out.” Marke swept up the keychain and left. He tossed the keychain on the desk in front of the fox person and strode out of the tent.


    <hr>


    Two days later, Marke and many other people looked up into the sky to see a bellowing elk plummet through the air. The elk fell out of Marke’s sight and the bellowing cut off abruptly.


    “I can’t help but feel that we are responsible for that.” Kente said.


    Marke grimaced. “Yeah.”