《Super Supportive》
ONE: The Boy in the Bubble
He woke to the taste of blood and the agony of a sharp, terrifying pain. His ears rang. His head pounded. His bare chest was pressed to the carpet his parents had installed in their new apartment just a week ago.
It still smelled funny. Gluey and artificial.
¡°Daddy!¡± he screamed. ¡°Momma!¡±
Blood fell from his mouth onto the carpet. One of his arms was caught under his body, and he couldn¡¯t move it. Something had pierced the side of his stomach. It hurt.
It hurt so much.
He called again for his parents. But his own voice sounded weird. Distant.
On the floor all around him, shards of glass sparkled in the orange glow of his nightlight. There was wind in the room.
The window must have broken, but he couldn¡¯t see it from here.
He looked around as best he could and spotted Wummy, plump and smiling, lying beside him. The stuffed wombat was half hidden by a comforter that had spilled over the side of the bed.
Sobbing, he reached for Wummy with his good arm and grabbed him by the ear. Beneath them, the building shook. A fire alarm began to shriek.
Suddenly, there was a deep thoom of sound. The boy felt an awful pain in his ears as the world exploded around him. Something¡ªsomeone¡ªblasted through the exterior wall of his bedroom. The ceiling crumbled. Chunks of concrete flew through the air like cannonballs.
With his face pressed to the floor, the boy didn¡¯t see any of it.
But he felt small pieces of rubble hitting his back. Then, he felt a crushing, smothering weight as the mattress from his bed landed on top of him. Pain from whatever was stabbing into his side shot through him, making every muscle spasm.
He screamed as loud as he could. In response, he heard nothing but a terrible rushing noise and an endless high-pitched whine.
Something heavy landed on the mattress. The air was pressed from his lungs. He couldn¡¯t breathe.
I¡¯m going to die. I¡¯m going to die. Help.
Dying was painful.
It was dark.
He wanted his mother. He wanted¡
###
Light.
The boy didn¡¯t know what had happened. Maybe he had passed out. Maybe he¡¯d been struck on the head, and his memories were having a hard time sticking. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was awake now, and there was light all around him. A semi-transparent globe of it encased him, glittering like a bubble full of silver stars.
He was suspended inside the bubble, his body frozen. He tried to twitch his fingers or turn his head. But his mind was the only part of him that could still move, and it seemed to be moving more sluggishly than it should.
There was no pain. He couldn¡¯t even blink, but his eyes didn¡¯t feel dry.
He and the bubble slowly spun in place. And that place was¡where was he?
There was so much wreckage in the room that he only gradually recognized it as his own. A gaping hole in the wall looked out onto the ruin of a building. The night was full of smoke, dust, and flashes of red and white light.
Firetruck lights, he thought.
There was a station near their apartment. He loved to watch the trucks pass by on the street below.
¡°It is exciting, bud,¡± his father always said. ¡°But remember to say a prayer for the people they¡¯re going to help.¡±
His father was a pastor. His mother had just gotten a job as a nurse in the Artonan House of Healing. The son of a pastor and a consecrated nurse was supposed to say prayers for all kinds of things. It was important, but sometimes he forgot.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Dear God, he thought now, as the bubble slowly rotated. I think something bad is happening. Please keep me and my family and Wummy safe. Please be with the firemen and don¡¯t let them get burned. Please take care of the people the firemen are going to help.
Amen.
Next, an Artonan wordchain to call good fortune from other worlds. He only knew a few of them, and he only knew them in English. Most people said that was useless, but his mother¡¯s boss said no faithful intention went completely unrewarded.
My heart calls out to another in good faith. Spare me your luck under tonight¡¯s moons, and tomorrow I will spare you an equal portion of mine.
Frozen in place as he was, he couldn¡¯t make the accompanying hand gesture. Hopefully it would still help.
As his bubble continued to spin, more of the broken world around him came into view.
He could see through one of his bedroom walls into the apartment¡¯s main living area. There was a band of destruction through the center of the room. The wood flooring was ripped up and splintered. The sofa was turned on its side beside the breakfast counter that separated the kitchen from the den. The coffee table was missing.
The front door was missing, too, along with part of the surrounding wall. Through the gap, he could see the hall. Dim emergency light strips near the ceiling illuminated a neighbor¡¯s door. Dark liquid was spattered across the pale paint and the shiny brass number plate.
The boy knew something was very wrong. He remembered his own terror. But his fear was almost as muffled as his pain now, and he felt only curiosity and a faint unease as more and more of the disaster was revealed.
There were strange people in his room. Two of them.
No. Three.
They were against the wall, beside the small bookcase he and his mother had decorated with animal stickers on the day they moved in.
First, he noticed their clothes. The woman, her brown hair braided around her head like a crown, wore combat boots and what looked like a blue motorcycle jacket that sparkled with the unmistakable glitter of real magic. She crouched beside a seated man with black hair and a sculpted beard. He was dressed in an armored bodysuit in the same shade of dark blue.
No visible magic sparkled over him, but a sigil was emblazoned into the suit¡¯s chest.
They¡¯re superheroes, thought the boy. Real ones.
Excitement stirred inside him for the briefest instant before stilling.
The man was weeping and shaking his head, staring down at the palms of his trembling hands as if they didn¡¯t belong to him. The woman reached out toward him, biting her lip. He jerked away.
On the floor at their feet, the third stranger lay still. He was a teenager, the boy thought, though it was hard to tell in flashing lights. He wore a black hoodie, and his pale face stared up at the ceiling, unblinking.
Is he frozen like me?
But no. The person in the hoodie wasn¡¯t inside a silvery bubble. He was sprawled across the carpet, and as more of his body came into view, the boy saw that it had been ripped nearly in half.
Horror rose, filling him, only to drain away as if someone had pulled a plug.
The man gestured toward the dead body, his face agonized. His mouth opened wide, as if he were shouting. But inside the bubble, there was no sound.
The woman looked toward the body, too. Her face was serious and sad. She reached over and gently shut the dead boy¡¯s eyes.
She closed her own and said something.
Maybe she''s praying, too.
Then, she stood. As she did, she glanced up and looked at the boy in the bubble. Their eyes met. She seemed startled and upset for a moment before taking a deep breath and hurrying toward him, smiling broadly.
It¡¯s a fake smile, he thought.
It was the smile adults used when they were trying to convince you that something wasn¡¯t as bad as it really was. The one they wore before they gave you shots at the doctor¡¯s office.
The smiling woman positioned herself between him and the dead body, then she pulled a small pad of paper and a marker out of her jacket. She wrote something and held it up for him to read. The print was clear and large.
DON¡¯T BE AFRAID. WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU.
She gave him plenty of time to read it, then she wrote on a new page.
MY NAME IS HANNAH. MY FRIEND IS ARJUN.
He was faintly disappointed they had real names. Lots of superheroes used code names but not all of them.
I WILL COVER YOUR BUBBLE. THEN WE WILL TAKE YOU TO A SAFE PLACE.
My name¡¯s Alden, he thought. What place? Where are my parents? Will they be there?
But he had no way of speaking.
Hannah gave Alden another strained smile and a thumbs up. Then, she bent down to the floor. She popped back up a moment later holding Wummy. She unzipped her jacket part way and made a show of carefully tucking the wombat inside before zipping it back up so that his smiling face peeked out just under her chin.
She gave the bubble another thumbs up.
Alden caught a glimpse of Arjun and the nameless dead boy as she bent again. The superhero¡¯s face was hidden by one shaking hand. Then a blanket¡ªAlden''s own comforter, stained with blood¡ªwas tossed over the whole silver bubble.
And he couldn¡¯t see anything anymore.
TWO: Mistakes
Two Weeks Later
***
Alden lay in his hospital bed, watching rain spatter against the windows and stream down the glass in rivulets. Wummy lay beside him, and a handheld video game console was in his lap, chirping occasionally to remind him that he¡¯d left his game on pause.
He winced and shut it off. The chirp was too similar to the high-pitched ringing he¡¯d had in his ears ever since the disaster. The doctors and the healer had both told him the same thing¡ªthat there was a good chance the whining sound would stop on its own but it might not.
The console had been given to him at the House of Healing, right after his broken arm and wrist were mended. He was supposed to play with it often¡something about maintaining dexterity in a healing limb. But he¡¯d mostly been using it to distract himself from everything else.
It worked. Sometimes.
But not as well here in the children¡¯s hospital he¡¯d been transferred to a few days ago. The House of Healing was soothing in a way a mundane hospital never could be. Here, now, everything Alden saw reminded him that things were wrong and they would never be right again.
And he was a source of gossip for some of the staff. He knew it because he¡¯d heard a couple of them talking just outside his room when they thought he was asleep.
Poor thing lost his parents in such a horrible way. And they still haven¡¯t managed to reach any other family.
Do you know if he saw it happen? God, I can¡¯t imagine the trauma.
It wasn¡¯t like it was mean gossip. They all felt sorry for him. They all meant well.
But Alden hated it.
And nobody would tell him the truth about what had happened. Not the whole truth. Not even the grief counselor who spent so much time talking about being honest and open with your feelings.
His home had been destroyed, and his parents had died in a supervillain attack. The heroes hired by the city of Chicago had not been able to bring the villain under control without collateral damage.
Alden didn¡¯t know what that meant.
How had they died? Why couldn¡¯t he see their bodies? Which supervillain was it? Why¡why had they wanted to hurt Alden¡¯s parents?
If one more adult told him that it was all a terrible accident, one that was impossible for someone his age to understand, he was going to throw his console at their lying smile.
Just as he thought that, Nurse Amanda knocked once and then came straight in. At least she wasn¡¯t smiling. In fact, she was wearing a worried frown.
¡°Alden, sweetie,¡± she said. ¡°Someone has come to visit you. Now, you don¡¯t have to see her if you don¡¯t want to¡ª¡±
¡°Who is it?¡± he asked quickly.
Alden had seen a few different visitors. His teacher had visited him three times, and she¡¯d brought handmade ¡°Get Well Soon¡± cards from the entire third grade. A couple of the nurses from the House of Healing had come as well. And the children¡¯s choir director from his father¡¯s old church had driven overnight all the way from Nashville with a tray of cupcakes and cheese straws.
Visitors were good. Visitors filled the room with noise so that Alden didn¡¯t have to hear his own thoughts.
¡°It¡¯s Hannah Elber, sweetie. The superhero.¡±
Alden froze, his mind flickering automatically to his dark, ruined bedroom. To flashing lights and a body¡ªthe body of the villain?¡ªlying there torn open. The memory had a foreign feel to it, like it belonged to someone else. But at the same time it was too detailed and clear.
He hadn¡¯t seen Hannah or Arjun since the day it happened.
He¡¯d been in the bubble, covered by the blanket, for what felt like a long time. When the comforter was removed, he and Hannah had been alone together in the back of a van.
She¡¯d written him lots of notes, explaining what was going on and what was happening.
YOU ARE INJURED, BUT YOU WILL BE ALL RIGHT.
MY SPELL IS KEEPING YOU SAFE AND CALM.
WE ARE GOING TO THE HOUSE OF HEALING.
THEY WILL HELP YOU.
IT WILL NOT HURT.
I WILL STAY WITH YOU UNTIL YOU FALL ASLEEP.
Where are my parents? Alden had thought, over and over again, willing the question to get through. Where are they? Did you rescue them, too?
Now, of course, he knew that she hadn¡¯t.
¡°You don¡¯t have to see her,¡± Nurse Amanda said again, seeming to mistake his silence for fear. ¡°Just because she¡¯s a superhero doesn¡¯t mean she gets to do whatever she likes. I¡¯ll tell her you¡ª¡±
¡°I want to see her!¡± Alden cried, nearly falling out of the bed in his eagerness. His stomach muscles complained a little, but they were nearly healed now and he barely noticed. Hannah would know things. Maybe she would explain why everything had gone wrong. ¡°Where is she?¡±
The nurse stared at him. ¡°She¡¯s downstairs at the check-in desk. Give me a minute, sweetie. She¡¯ll come to you.¡±
###
¡°Oh, man,¡± Hannah Elber muttered, staring at her reflection in the polished metal of the elevator door. ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re going to let me in, Cly. I¡¯m gonna have to go rogue and climb up the side of the building or something.¡±
¡°That¡¯ll be a great look on the six o¡¯clock news,¡± her friend said dryly through her earbud. ¡°And I¡¯d like to see you try it. You failed hard on the rock wall every time in gym class.¡±
¡°I should¡¯ve come sooner,¡± Hannah said, ignoring the jab. ¡°But I was waiting for them to find the kid¡¯s aunt so I could talk to her and get permission, only it''s starting to seem like they¡¯re never going to track the lady down, which just makes everything so much worse.¡±
¡°Hannah, it¡¯s not your fault his parents died.¡±
¡°It is.¡±
¡°It¡¯s really not.¡±
¡°Shut up about it.¡±
¡°No. You had to stabilize a building. In a crazy situation, fighting against a vill with weirdass powers. You aren¡¯t perfect. You did your best. Arjun did his best. It wasn¡¯t quite enough. Mistakes happen to all of us at some point in our careers. That¡¯s all there is to it.¡±
For a moment, they both fell quiet.
¡°Is he¡¡± Cly hesitated. ¡°Is he going to be all right?¡±
Hannah closed her eyes. "You should have seen his face, Cly. Killing a civilian has always been his biggest fear, and the way he had to take the villain down this time... He¡¯ll never trust me to do my job again, and why should he?¡±
¡°Hannah, nobody blames you. Not even Arjun.¡±
Hannah shook her head. ¡°I promised him,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I told him I had his back. I told him he could go all out. That¡¯s our whole reason for teaming up. It''s the whole reason we''re here in Chicago where they had space for a pair instead of somewhere else. And I--¡±
Behind her, the woman at the check-in desk cleared her throat. ¡°You can head on up, Ms. Elber. He¡¯s in Room 3703.¡±
Hannah spun around and gave the other woman a bright smile. ¡°Thank you so much! Have a nice day.¡±
¡°Wow, you really go all in on the public persona thing,¡± Cly muttered through the earbud.
¡°It''s an important part of the job. And it''s the least I can do to get that much right."
###
Alden was by himself when the superhero arrived. It had taken actual begging to get the nurse to leave him alone with his visitor, but she finally relented. He could still hear her murmuring rules and warnings to Hannah through the door, though.
His heart was racing.
Excitement. Nerves. A little bit of fear.
He¡¯d only met a hero once before the accident. It was in first grade. The school had held a special assembly, and a hero named Electric Yo-yo had come to talk to them all about staying safe during emergencies.
¡°Heroes are helpers, just like firemen and police officers,¡± Yo-yo had said, flinging a little orb of green lightning around the stage and calling it back to him like it was a pet. ¡°Our powers might look scary, but that doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯ll hurt you. If one of us gives you instructions be sure to follow them so that we can keep you safe.¡±
Yo-yo had been funny. He¡¯d given out pencils and stickers.
Alden couldn¡¯t imagine him tearing someone in half.
Stolen story; please report.
Finally, Hannah stepped through the door, interrupting his thoughts. She had a nervous smile on her face. Her hands were in the pockets of her motorcycle jacket, which just looked like normal clothes right now without the sparkle of magic coating it. Her brown hair was pulled back into two French braids.
¡°Hi, Alden!¡± she said. ¡°I just came by to check on you. Is that okay?¡±
She didn¡¯t come an inch closer until he nodded. When he did, she walked over to the chair beside his bed and sat down. The vinyl creaked under her weight.
They stared at each other for a minute, neither of them blinking, then Hannah licked her lips and said, ¡°Soooo, I don¡¯t know if you remember me, but I¡¯m Hannah. Hannah Elber. My friend and I¡ª¡±
¡°I remember,¡± Alden said quickly. How could I forget?
¡°Oh. Good. I thought maybe you wouldn¡¯t because of the spell. You were awake inside of it, which was pretty unusual. Um¡how are you feeling? Did they get you all patched up?¡±
¡°I¡¯m okay. My ears make a lot of noise. They have to keep me here until they¡¯re sure my stomach is better.¡±
¡°Right. You got stabbed by a big hunk of metal. It flew in right through your window. That had to hurt. I¡¯m so sorry about that.¡±
It had hurt. He remembered being in agony before he was in the bubble. But that memory was like the rest of the night. It was clear, but it felt like it belonged to someone else.
¡°I never got to see it,¡± he said.
¡°What?¡±
¡°The piece of metal I got stabbed with. I never got to see it. I didn¡¯t think to ask until they brought me here, and nobody knows where it went.¡±
Hannah had a weird look on her face for a second, but then she nodded. ¡°Yeah. I get that. I¡¯d want to see the thing, too. They probably disposed of it, though. I don¡¯t think they can keep bloody chunks of shrapnel lying around at the House of Healing. But I can ask just to be sure if you want me to?¡±
Alden nodded. He was relieved that talking to Hannah was so easy. She wasn¡¯t treating him like a baby. ¡°Ask if I can have it.¡±
¡°Will do,¡± Hannah said, giving him a salute. ¡°And if you¡¯re curious about what it was¡I got a good look at it. I¡¯m almost positive it was a piece of a table saw blade.¡±
"A saw?"
She made a vaguely triangular shape with her fingers. ¡°You had a piece of it this big in your side.¡±
Alden pondered that. Then he asked, ¡°Do you want to see my scar?¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°From the table saw. Do you want to see my scar? It¡¯s purple.¡±
Hannah blinked. Then she smiled. ¡°Do I ever!¡±
Alden nodded. The doctors and nurses had all told him the scar was cool. It was good to have confirmation from a superhero. He pulled up his hospital-issued pajama shirt to reveal the long, raised scar on his left side. It was dark purple, and it went down at a slight angle from his lower ribs.
Hannah made a big deal over it, too.
¡°Interesting scars are like collector¡¯s items for supers,¡± she told him. ¡°That one¡¯s great.¡±
¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt much anymore.¡±
¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± said Hannah. ¡°They had a real healer patch you up since it was a superpower-related incident. You¡¯d normally be out of the hospital already, but a healed body can suddenly revert. It¡¯s incredibly rare, but since you had a strange reaction to my Bubble of Patient Waiting they¡¯re being extra cautious with you.¡±
¡°The silver bubble spell?¡±
Hannah nodded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said. ¡°Normally, if I put a living being inside it, they lose awareness. If I¡¯d realized you were awake in there, I wouldn¡¯t have let you see¡that.¡±
Alden felt his face fall. Oh right. I had important questions to ask her. And she might not stay long.
¡°Was that the villain who killed my parents?¡± he asked. ¡°The guy who was¡on my floor?¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± said Hannah, sitting up straight and clasping her hands together on top of her knees. ¡°Yeah, that was the bad guy. Didn¡¯t anyone talk to you about him?¡±
Alden flopped back onto his pillows. He gripped the blanket tightly. ¡°No. Nobody answers my questions with actual answers. They just say nice-sounding words that don¡¯t mean anything.¡±
He heard Hannah take a deep breath.
After a beat, she said, ¡°Well, that¡¯s not fair to you, but maybe they just don¡¯t know enough to tell you everything. I¡¯m not sure how much information regular people actually have right now. Probably a lot of gossip and only a little bit of truth. Do you¡I can answer questions if you want? It doesn¡¯t have to be today. We can wait until you¡¯re out of the hospital, or¡ª¡±
¡°Why did the villain kill my parents?¡± Alden asked immediately, twisting the blankets in his hands. ¡°Was he trying to rob us? Or was he mad at them? Why¡?¡±
He¡¯d wondered and wondered. Maybe if there was a reason for the terrible thing that had happened, it would all start to make sense.
Hannah gulped. ¡°Well, he was a U-class. Do you know what that means?¡±
¡°Unique.¡±
A couple of Alden¡¯s favorite heroes had unique classes. They weren''t necessarily stronger than other heroes, but they had unusual powers that didn¡¯t fit into the normal set of classes people were granted when they were chosen by the Artonan System.
¡°Right. He¡¯d just been called by the System a few months ago, from what we understand. And he got his unique class and his first skills. Instead of registering and coming to live on Anesidora Island or in another hero zone like he was supposed to, he started using his power on civilians.¡±
It was an unexpectedly familiar story to Alden. In movies and television shows, the supervillain was almost always someone who refused to register their power and abide by the law.
He hadn¡¯t realized it was something that could happen in real life.
Hannah sighed. ¡°He had a power that¡¯s never been recorded before. And it was really strong and deadly.¡±
¡°What power?¡±
¡°Um¡it¡¯s pretty scary. Are you sure you want to know the details?¡±
Alden nodded.
¡°Okay,¡± the superhero said. ¡°It was some kind of transfer ability. It took strength and vitality¡ªmaybe other things, too¡ªfrom his targets and transferred them to him. So the more people he hurt, the more powerful he became.
¡°They were having an early Halloween party at a club a few blocks away from your apartment building. He went there and started draining people. It took¡a really long time for people at the party to notice. It was loud and crowded. He blended in, and he killed several people before someone finally realized something was wrong and called emergency services.¡±
She shifted in the chair, and it creaked loudly again.
¡°The other heroes working here in Chicago were busy, and dispatch didn¡¯t realize how dangerous the situation was. So they only sent me and Arjun.
¡°When we got to the club, it was¡bad. The villain¡¯s power fed itself. The more people he killed, the more powerful he got. And as he grew stronger, he could kill people even more quickly. He was moving almost like a speed-agility type by the time we got there, which was bad for us, because Arjun and I don¡¯t have the mental specs to deal with true superspeed.¡±
She grew quiet, and when Alden glanced over, he saw that she was staring off into space, her lips pressed together.
He didn¡¯t want her to stop talking. Not until he knew everything.
¡°What kind of Avowed are you?¡± he asked, feeling a little proud he''d remembered the proper name for people chosen by the System. "What powers do you have."
She shook herself and looked over at him. ¡°I¡¯m an Adjuster. A-rank. I know that doesn¡¯t tell you much because there¡¯s a lot of variety with Adjusters. I¡¯ve focused my skills on stabilizing and freezing isolated patches of reality.¡±
Seeing his blank expression, she gave him an apologetic shrug.
¡°Yeah, it¡¯s kind of a complicated one. Just think of the bubble you were in. I received that spell recently. It makes a space that keeps everything inside it from changing. I don¡¯t think it actually stops time¡can¡¯t get a straight answer out of anyone I¡¯ve asked. But it¡¯s almost like that. So even though you were badly injured, when I wrapped the bubble around you, you stopped bleeding. Your mind was supposed to stop working, too, but magic can be weird sometimes.¡±
¡°Nothing hurt anymore,¡± said Alden. ¡°I couldn¡¯t move. And I couldn¡¯t get excited or scared like normal.¡±
¡°I¡¯m glad. I¡¯m going to study the spell more so I can figure out exactly what happened. I thought you might be terrified to be trapped in there.¡±
It had never occurred to Alden before that a superhero might not understand their own powers. How could you do magic without knowing how it worked?
¡°Anyway,¡± said Hannah, ¡°we had to stop Body Drainer¡ªthat¡¯s what they¡¯re calling him right now. We tried to slow him down with my spells so that Arjun could grab him. Arjun is an S-rank Brute, almost purely focused on physical strength. S-ranks have loads of power, so even if the guy started draining him he should have been able to stop him. But I couldn¡¯t target or cast fast enough. And none of my spells are invisible, so when I tried to build traps he just dodged them.¡±
She sounded frustrated.
¡°He ran out of the club, and we chased him down the street. He was too fast for us, but he kept stopping to attack people, so we managed to keep up. We had to¡I told Arjun we had to get him into another enclosed space. One without any people. We would lose him if he ran flat out in an open area, and we couldn''t afford that. And usually newbies who aren¡¯t used to extreme speed do badly in small spaces. But almost everything was residential. The first empty building we saw was the one right across the street from yours.¡±
Alden knew about that. That building was being remodeled. When it was done, it was going to be apartments, too. He¡¯d hoped lots of families with other kids would move in so that they could send secret flashlight messages to each other through the windows at night.
¡°We managed to chase the villain in there,¡± Hannah said. ¡°Arjun went after him to fight, and I stayed outside to block the exits and stabilize the building so that it wouldn''t completely collapse and damage the neighboring structures. It¡¯s hard for Arjun to use his full power without destroying everything. I became his sidekick so that he wouldn¡¯t have to focus on things like that in the middle of serious fights. So¡so as battlefield support, it was my job to keep bystanders safe and¡let Arjun know what his options were.¡±
She stopped talking again. And her silence lasted for such a long time, that Alden began to feel uncomfortable.
She¡¯s upset.
Was it because it went wrong? Something must have gone wrong, because the villain was not dead in the empty building across the street when the fight was over. He was dead in Alden¡¯s bedroom.
And Alden¡¯s parents were dead, too.
¡°I was making stable zones where they were needed to absorb the force of Arjun¡¯s strikes, but I was spread too thin. And the Body Drainer started showing off some weird energy skill we still haven''t figured out. He was sending out these pulses that were almost like explosions centered on his body. They were going right through my spells. Shrapnel started flying, like that piece of metal that went through your window."
She stared at his stomach as if she could see the scar through his shirt, then continued. "So I tightened my focus even more, making my spells extra strong in smaller areas so nothing could get through them. And I¡I made a horrible mistake. Arjun suddenly asked through coms if the middle of the exterior wall on the seventh floor could take a big hit, and I said yes. But I was in such a rush I counted the windows wrong. I stabilized the middle of the eighth floor instead, and when he tackled the Body Drainer, they both smashed through the side of the building, and the momentum carried them all the way across the street into your family¡¯s apartment.¡±
There were tears in her eyes.
The ringing in Alden¡¯s ears seemed to have gotten louder all of a sudden. His lips were trembling.
¡°I¡¯m so, so sorry, Alden,¡± Hannah said. ¡°It was my fault. Don¡¯t¡you might hear things from others, all kinds of guesses and rumors. But you should know the truth. Arjun was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. He did everything right in a bad situation. Your parents died because a teenager thought it would be cool to be a supervillain and because I made a stupid, awful mistake in the middle of a serious situation.¡±
Alden¡¯s vision blurred. A huge, racking sob welled up inside of him. He tried to hold it back, but it was like trying to hold back the tide. He started crying, every bit as hard as he had when they first told him his parents were gone. It just wouldn¡¯t stop. His body ached with it. His pillow was getting wet.
Nurse Amanda burst into the room, and Alden screamed, ¡°Get out! Leave me alone!¡± so loud it made his throat hurt.
Hannah Elber, the superhero, ran from him like he¡¯d attacked her. Nurse Amanda ran toward him, whispering words of comfort. For some reason Alden couldn¡¯t understand in the burning pain of the moment, this was exactly the opposite of what he¡¯d wanted.
THREE: 90 seconds
Time passed. Things changed.
Alden¡¯s wayward aunt, Connie, was finally located by social services, and the two of them became a family. Their relationship was loving, but far less functional and sheltering than the one he¡¯d had with his parents. Aunt Connie had, as one of Alden¡¯s elementary school teachers very kindly put it, an unconventional parenting style.
When he was eleven, his baseball coach, chewing an enormous wad of gum behind the dugout after a game one day, was less discreet. ¡°Listen, Alden,¡± he said around noisy smacking sounds. ¡°You¡¯ve got your head straight on your shoulders, so I¡¯ll just tell you. It¡¯s not right that you have to be the grown-up in the relationship. That woman¡¯s got nuts loose in her brain and a bunch of squirrels chasing after them.¡±
Alden had frowned and looked down to the place where his shoe was scuffing a small divot into the clay. He didn''t like people badmouthing his aunt, but it wasn''t easy to argue with them. ¡°She¡¯ll come pick me up eventually. You don¡¯t have to wait with me.¡±
¡°Kid, she left you here until after the rec department closed last game. Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear about it.¡±
Alden wondered if he should mention that he''d used his aunt''s name and id number to put an app on his phone so that he could use the adults-only e-scooter rentals around the city when he really needed to. But maybe that would only prove his coach''s point.
So they waited together, and she did come. Only an hour late that afternoon, with an excuse about traffic and six pints of melted ice cream in the backseat of the car.
It was fine.
They dumped the ice cream and bought more for dinner. Then some of Aunt Connie¡¯s friends from the salon where she was working at the moment came over to their house with pizza and beer and loud music. Alden disappeared to his room after the impromptu party became uncomfortably messy.
He slapped on his favorite set of headphones and played games on his computer for a while. Then, he did his homework.
It was just reading¡ªa simplified history of the System¡¯s arrival and the ways it had changed Earth. There wasn¡¯t much new information in it.
The Artonans unleashed the System on Earth, as they had on many other planets in the past. In exchange for powers, arcane knowledge, and tech, humans had to agree to help the Artonans when they were called upon. Plenty of humans took them up on the offer, and the first superhumans were created.
That was seventy years ago, in the early 1960s, and almost everyone agreed it had been a good deal for humanity. Without the Artonans, most people thought that Earth might not even have internet or cell phones. And when heroes were summoned by Earth¡¯s alien benefactors, the Artonans were fair in their dealings. Sometimes they assigned difficult missions, but they always offered rewards equal to the task given.
Alden had already known all of this. At the end of the assignment, his online textbook included a poll for all its readers asking if you¡¯d like to have powers or not. He clicked ¡°yes¡± after only a moment¡¯s hesitation.
You¡¯re in the majority! the screen announced. 96% of the students reading this chapter also said they would like to have powers.
You¡¯re all super brave. Being a hero is an important job.
But did you know that only 0.07% of the people on Earth will be offered access to the Interdimensional Warrior¡¯s Contract? (Reminder: that¡¯s the proper name for the System. It might show up on a quiz.)
That¡¯s around 7.6 million superhumans. It¡¯s a big-sounding number, but it means that more than ten and a half billion people who would like to have super powers will never even get the chance.
That¡¯s a lot of disappointed people, Alden thought, feeling more than a little disappointed himself.
He answered a few reading comprehension questions, earning a 10/10 and a burst of fireworks across the screen.
At midnight, the house was still noisy, so he gave up on the idea of sleeping. He sneaked into the den to grab a cold slice of pizza, then settled back at his desk for his on-again off-again hobby. Researching the accident.
Three years dulled things, but on nights like this, he missed his parents acutely. Digging into their deaths was a painful compulsion. Superheroes were a source of fascination for most people¡ª96% of them apparently¡ªso there was plenty of information.
Alden was beginning to learn how to sort fact from fiction. It helped that Hannah hadn¡¯t lied to him that day in the hospital. The things she¡¯d told him were a guideline that helped him find the other pieces of the story.
The pieces that were uglier.
For example, there were pictures of some of the Body Drainer¡¯s victims. They looked even more dead than dead bodies usually did. They were twisted up and gruesome. The only photographs of Body Drainer were nice ones, though¡ª school pictures showing a smiling, pale boy in a shirt and tie.
Superhumans usually came into their powers between fifteen and seventeen. He was a senior in high school when he killed twenty-seven people. Most of the deaths happened at the nightclub. But there were a few before that. And three while the heroes were in pursuit.
There were either none after he was cornered in the building across the street from Alden¡¯s bedroom, or two. It depended on how you looked at it. Some websites counted Alden¡¯s parents among Body Drainer¡¯s victims. Others listed them as bystanders. One wrote their names out¡ª Richard and Leah Thorn¡ªand placed them beside the words collateral damage.
A couple of superhuman-hate sites even listed them as victims of Arjun Thomas and Hannah Elber. Like they¡¯d killed them on purpose.
¡°You just know ¡®heroes¡¯ do shit like this all the time when they¡¯re not on camera,¡± a user named wakeuptheresbacon said. ¡°Easy way to hide a couple of murders. Like ¡®Oops. It was an accident while I was fighting crime.¡¯ I¡¯ve thought about it a lot before. And look at those stupid suckers. They were definitely hero lovers. The lady worked at a House of ¡®Healing¡¯.¡±
Alden had seen this comment before several times. He kept coming back to this site to stare at it even though it made him furious.
He¡¯d gone through phases over the past three years where he was angry at the heroes for messing up their fight with the Body Drainer. But he wasn''t currently in one, and he¡¯d never been confused about where the ultimate blame lay.
And now he was just¡so, so mad at wakeuptheresbacon. He knew in his head that it was weird, but he thought he hated bacon more than he¡¯d ever hated the actual supervillain responsible for ruining his life.
He didn¡¯t know my parents. He doesn¡¯t know anything. How dare he say stuff like that about them! My mom¡¯s job was important.
Everyone was so proud of her. Houses of Healing usually had just one healer¡ªa superhuman or even an Artonan¡ªplus an apprentice or two, and a small handful of regular human nurses who had to go through years of extra training and be granted special authority to use certain healing wordchains.
His mom being chosen for the job was such a big deal that his family had moved to Chicago for it. She was amazing, but bacon and his internet friends were acting like she was dumb.
He glared at the screen until his eyes started to water. He wanted to tell everyone that bacon was the stupid one, even though the comment had been posted over a year ago, but the thread was closed.
He let his forehead smack into the desk and started a breathing exercise a school counselor had given him not long after his parents died. It had been months since he¡¯d remembered to do it, but at one point, he¡¯d had to use it almost every day. He fell into the rhythm easily.
When he felt better, he sat back up and closed the infuriating website. He turned the volume up on his headphones. It was one of his rainstorm playlists. In theory it would help distract him from his lingering tinnitus, but in practice, he mostly used it to drown out Aunt Connie.
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He typed in the name of another website,one he¡¯d found recently, and read through it again. It was the blog of an elderly man named Marv who was extremely geeky about super abilities.
Marv went into minute detail about the physics of them. He discussed the intricacies of the magic/chaos dynamic. He had pages and pages of skill listings and stat theory. And he did breakdowns of the more obscure powers.
Alden couldn¡¯t understand most of it. But he was trying to understand everything about a post the man had made three weeks ago.
It was about Body Drainer.
And because Drainer had only really made one appearance in the public eye, the entire breakdown of his skills was based on that night. Alden had read it several times, and every time he did, he felt his mind shifting a little. Like it was trying to make room for a different perspective than the one that had been deeply entrenched in him for so long.
It wasn¡¯t that Marv had much new information to offer about what had happened. He didn¡¯t. But the facts he chose to focus on in his discussion of Drainer¡¯s powers weren¡¯t the facts Alden had always focused on.
The Drainer had killed people by draining them. It was right there in the name. But Marv was interested in finding out what exactly it was the villain was draining:
¡°To merely say he stole strength from his victims, as most do, is to say we don¡¯t know what he was absorbing from those poor souls at all. The implication is that he was somehow increasing his own physical abilities by depriving others of theirs. This is obviously incorrect.
¡°It is fascinating to me that so many of my fellow superpower enthusiasts have ignored the most unusual aspect of the Body Drainer¡¯s case¡ªhis use, in his final moments, of what official reports call only ¡®energetic bursts akin to explosions.¡¯
¡°This is wildly different from his more commonly discussed talent for enhancing his speed. If the villain was only improving his own physical traits as he stole life from others, there would be no way to produce ¡®energetic bursts.¡¯ And the suggestion that he had acquired an additional high-ranked skill from the system beyond the drain ability beggars belief.
¡°May I remind my friends that this particular villain had only become a superhuman a few weeks previously? Skills of enormous power are not so easy to come by.
¡°Any attempt to ascertain the true nature of Body Drainer¡¯s deadly skill must begin with a thorough pondering of these strange explosions.
¡°Here we head into the thorny jungle of magi-chaos, where one human might lay hands on another and take from them something more essential than muscle or bone.¡±
Alden read the introduction slowly. Then he read the rest of the post even more slowly. Marv grew more long-winded rather than less as the writing progressed.
But the focus on Body Drainer¡¯s explosive ability was particularly important to Alden, so he persevered. Marv reported that Drainer had used the explosions twice in rapid succession. BOOM. BOOM. Only a second apart. And then a third time, ¡°approximately ninety seconds later, as reported by heroes on scene, at the moment of impact by Mr. Arjun Thomas, a strength-focused Brute class.¡±
BOOM.
Marv was curious about how Drainer¡¯s power caused the explosions in the first place.
Alden was morbidly focused on the timing of them. Was it really ninety seconds between the first two and the third? Ninety seconds between the explosions that had thrown him from his bed and the moment Arjun and the villain crashed through the walls of his room and he lost consciousness?
It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d asked himself that since reading the post. He glanced over at Wummy, sitting on the foot of his neatly made bed beside his backpack. But the smiling wombat had no answers.
Alden closed his eyes and tried to remember. There was the sudden shock of waking up in pain on the floor. His ears were ringing. He screamed for his parents.
He realized his mouth was full of blood. His arm was messed up. He¡¯d been pierced by the shrapnel.
He screamed again.
He saw broken glass. He reached for Wummy. There was wind in the room. The world exploded.
It could have been ninety seconds, he thought. Isn¡¯t that a long time?
Alden felt his perception shifting again. He decided that he had to know. He shut down his computer and turned off his lights. He grabbed his phone and climbed into bed.
This is so mean. And embarrassing. He found the phone¡¯s stopwatch feature and let his thumb hover over the START/STOP button. Carefully hiding the phone and his hand under his sheets, he took a deep breath and pressed the button.
The instant he felt a haptic twitch from the phone, he screamed at the top of his lungs. ¡°AUNT CONNIE!¡±
One Mississippi, he thought. Two Mississippi.
¡°HELP!¡± he screamed. ¡°AUNT CONNIE! AUNT CON¡ª¡±
There was a sound like an elephant barging through the den. A crash. Swearing from one of the guests. Something like a pizza box hitting the floor.
Then Alden¡¯s aunt burst into his room. Her bleached hair was wild around her face. She¡¯d flung the door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. Her eyes were wide.
¡°Alden!¡± she shouted, leaping over his backpack to grab him. ¡°Alden, baby! What¡¯s wrong?!¡±
So forceful was the response that he almost forgot to hit the stopwatch¡¯s button. Maybe I didn¡¯t have to scream quite that loud?
¡°I¡I think I had a bad dream."
Jos¨¦ and Rhonda from the salon were both staring at him through the bedroom door. He felt his face heat.
His aunt rocked back and forth, still clutching him to her. ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± she murmured. ¡°It¡¯s all right. I¡¯ve got you.¡±
Hidden under the sheets, the clock had stopped at eight seconds.
#
It took a long while for Alden to convince his aunt he was fine. And that he didn¡¯t need her to sleep with him and scare the monsters away like he was a little kid.
He must not have done a great job of it, though. When the bus dropped him off after school the next day, he found that his room smelled like someone had dumped a truckload of apple pie filling into it. He looked around and found the culprit quickly; it was a Christmas-themed fragrance dispenser, plugged into the wall and glowing hot pink.
I guess she wanted me to have a nightlight.
He wrinkled his nose but left it plugged in to punish himself for scaring her and lying about why.
He dropped off his bag and headed to the kitchen. He had a couple of hours of privacy at least. He opened a pair of overstuffed drawers Aunt Connie called the ¡°Flat Stuff Place¡±.
The drawers were, indeed, full of flat stuff. Takeout menus, recipes, random Tarot cards, matchbooks, ¡°I Voted¡± stickers, old credit cards, brochures, birthday cards, random school assignments, and more.
Alden dug through it all, looking for something he had seen in one of the drawers before. It had been a long time ago, but that didn¡¯t matter. The flat stuff never got cleaned out. It only accumulated endlessly.
It took him almost twenty minutes, but he finally found it. It was a burgundy pamphlet describing the benefits of the dully-named ¡°Anesidora Compassion Fund.¡±
It was a fund to take care of people who¡¯d been injured during superhuman incidents. Alden opened it up to find a bullet point list of benefits, some he¡¯d received himself.
Trauma counseling. The sorry-you¡¯re-an-orphan-now scholarship money.
There was even an annual Victims of Villains retreat at a campground in New England. He couldn¡¯t imagine a worse vacation, so he¡¯d refused when Aunt Connie suggested they should apply for it.
Alden wasn¡¯t interested in the pamphlet itself, but in the scrap of paper that was tucked inside it. There was a phone number and a message:
CALL ME IF YOU OR ALDEN EVER NEED ANYTHING
¡ª H.E.
FOUR: Avowed Communications
Avowed Communications
Alden stared at the note for a while. He hadn¡¯t seen Hannah since that day at the hospital, but obviously, she¡¯d reached out to his aunt at some point. Maybe right after the accident, since this message had been buried in the Flat Stuff Place for so long.
He had gotten a video call from Arjun Thomas once, several months after it happened. It had taken place in his therapist¡¯s office. The hero was polite, but the whole thing was extremely awkward. By that time, Alden had cobbled together enough of the details to understand that during the last few seconds of the fight, Body Drainer had run toward his unconscious body in a desperate attempt to drain Alden and re-up his own power.
Mr. Thomas had grabbed the teenage villain and¡done what someone with incredible super strength did.
I should have thanked him for saving my life.
It was a new thought.
Alden had long been aware that Arjun and Hannah had technically saved his life. Twice. Once by stopping Drainer and then again when Hannah put him inside her magic bubble to keep him from bleeding out.
But any gratitude he felt had always been overshadowed by the death of his parents.
Now though¡
He took a deep breath and dialed the strangely long number. The words he¡¯d been refining all day during school were on the tip of his tongue. As soon as Hannah answered, he would say them, get his final answer, and then hang up. That would be that.
The phone rang once and then immediately connected.
¡°This is Alden Thorn,¡± he said in a rush. ¡°I¡ª¡±
¡°Hello, Earthling!¡± said a cheery, canned voice with an unfamiliar accent. ¡°You¡¯ve dialed in to your planet¡¯s Avowed Communications Network. Your number isn¡¯t registered. Please state your name, reason for calling, and level of urgency. Prank calls will be penalized.¡±
Alden blinked. Am I talking to the Artonan System right now? The actual System?
He had to be. It was calling him Earthling.
He hadn¡¯t realized that a reality-altering magical interface could even have a phone number.
And his brain was so set on delivering his message to Hannah quickly and with a minimum of social discomfort that he had to think for a beat before he could answer the unexpected, but perfectly simple, questions.
¡°Um¡this is Alden. Samuel Alden Thorn. I¡¯m calling to talk to Hannah Elber. She¡¯s a superhe¡ªone of the Avowed. It¡¯s not urgent, so I guess my urgency level is low?¡±
There was no pause after he finished talking. The System replied immediately.
¡°Oh, yes,¡± it said, in a pleasant voice that no longer sounded pre-recorded at all. ¡°I see you, Alden. Hannah has listed you as a priority contact. She¡¯s not on a quest right now, so I¡¯ll patch you through to her. Would you prefer video, audio only, or empathetic telepathy?¡±
¡°Empathetic telepathy?¡± Alden asked, startled. Telepathy was a superpower, wasn¡¯t it? Not something you just used for phone calls.
¡°I don¡¯t recommend it,¡± the voice said. ¡°It¡¯s damaging for underdeveloped minds, and Hannah can only afford to pay for four-point-six-eight minutes worth. Your call would have to be brief.¡±
Why is it even an option, then?!
Alden held the phone farther from his ear, as if that would mitigate any potential brain damage. ¡°Um¡audio only is fine.¡±
¡°Forwarding you now.¡±
###
¡°You¡¯re the most boring person in the world. I hope you know that.¡±
Hannah looked up in surprise to see her best friend standing over her. Cly was carrying a pair of plum juice mocktails, and her brown eyes were narrowed in disappointment.
¡°Are you seriously working during my Super Extraordinary Going Away Brunchtime Extravaganza?¡±
¡°Ah¡¡± said Hannah, setting aside her notebook and gazing around at the restaurant. ¡°Isn¡¯t the party kind of over?¡±
Cly had finally gotten her first off-island job offer, a coveted posting in Toronto. She¡¯d be starting in a couple of weeks, and she¡¯d booked her favorite Sichuan place for the entire morning so that all of their friends could farewell her. It was the first time Hannah had ever had extra spicy mapo tofu for breakfast, but she had to admit it was pretty awesome.
Now, though, the buffet was empty and just a few people were left sitting at tables piled high with dirty dishes. In one corner, a Shaper who Hannah only vaguely recognized seemed to be practicing his skills by making the dregs of green tea from his cup float around in lazy circles over his table.
¡°The party is never over while I¡¯m here!¡± Cly proclaimed, lifting the drinks over her head. Some plum juice spilled onto her sleek black bun, and she completely ignored it.
A few people raised their glasses toward her and cheered good-naturedly.
¡°I really am going to miss you,¡± Hannah said with a smile. ¡°I hope Toronto is a blast.¡±
¡°You could always be my sidekick,¡± Cly said hopefully. She leaned over the table, a familiar pleading expression on her face. ¡°I know we could make it work. I¡¯d split my salary with you 60/40. Canada would get two for the price of one. They¡¯d love it.¡±
¡°It would be fun, but you know I want¡ª¡±
¡°¡®To maximize a partner¡¯s effectiveness.¡¯ I knoooww. But why don¡¯t you try to maximize me. I wanna be maximized. It would be cool.¡±
¡°You¡¯re a long-range mind sniper who turns a target¡¯s brain into custard. You¡¯re already a hundred percent effective as long as you don¡¯t miss. How am I supposed to maximize that?¡±
Actually, Hannah had made a couple of plans for how to support Cly¡¯s skills as a Sway¡just in case a need ever arose. But it didn¡¯t change the fact that, in most circumstances, the two of them working together would be just the same as any two powerful heroes working in parallel.
The goal of a battlefield support¡ªthe goal Hannah was aiming for anyway¡ªwas to make a partner exponentially more effective than they would be without her.
Right now she was writing a team-up proposal for a fellow Adjuster currently stationed in Jakarta. He was an older, more experienced hero who did some extremely creative things with localized temperature shifts. He¡¯d had a dedicated support briefly a few years before, and his mission success rate had shot through the roof, but the sidekick had gotten a quest summons and never returned to Earth.
Possibly he was just busy with whatever task he¡¯d been set by the space wizards, but at this point, it was better to presume he was dead.
¡°I¡¯ll take this,¡± Cly said, placing a mocktail on the table and snatching the notebook. ¡°You take the drink. We¡¯ve still got an hour on our booking for this place. Let¡¯s play poker!¡±
Amused, Hannah agreed, and before long they were playing mid-day poker with the other leftovers from the party. The Shaper was a minor leaguer named David. Poor guy was getting fleeced because he hadn¡¯t realized that their friend Nuray had a permanently engaged passive skill that heightened attraction.
Nuray¡¯s fianc¨¦, Ilya, was grinning behind his handful of cards. He had insane dexterity stats, so he was probably cheating, too. But none of them would ever catch him at it.
¡°I still can¡¯t believe they¡¯re letting an S-ranked Sway off the island,¡± Ilya said, shaking his head as Cly excitedly revealed a winning hand. ¡°I thought for sure you were stuck here until you were old and gray.¡±
¡°I¡¯ve been pure of heart and even purer of deed since I was fifteen,¡± Cly said, smiling broadly. ¡°My record¡¯s so lily white my own mother¡¯s criticisms bounce off of it. I am saint. An angel. An absolute lamb. A¡ª¡±
¡°An unholy terror that could kill us all without getting up from your seat?¡± Nuray said, stealing a maraschino cherry from Ilya¡¯s glass.
Cly shook her head. ¡°Realistically, I could only kill one of you at this range. Then, the others would stab me to death with forks and chopsticks.¡±
¡°We should do that,¡± said Ilya. ¡°I haven¡¯t had a mission bonus in ages.¡±
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Hannah smiled at the banter. It really was amazing that Cly had gotten the Toronto job. Most countries weren¡¯t okay with the idea of mind controllers crossing their borders.
The majority of Sways¡ªthe ones who didn¡¯t become villains¡ªspent their lives on the island or in one of a few other zones owned by the Allied Heroes of Earth. Cly¡¯s parents were superhumans, too, so from the moment she¡¯d gotten her class she¡¯d understood the stakes.
Perfection was the minimum requirement if she wanted to work internationally as a hero.
She¡¯d taken it a step farther by specializing at every turn until she was finally categorized as a mind sniper instead of a manipulator. She had no subtle tweaks in her repertoire, just powerful single-target mind destruction. Very scary, but not in the way that made people in power want to keep her on the opposite side of the planet.
It was a big gamble on her part to narrow her focus so heavily. Hannah was glad it had finally paid off.
¡°You know, maybe before you head to Toronto, you should¡oh, wait. Got a call.¡±
A visual notification blinked in her peripheral vision, and she reached up to swipe at it. She¡¯d never bothered to train herself out of the habit of prodding around at thin air. Controlling your thoughts to give perfectly accurate mental commands to the System interface really wasn¡¯t as easy as just using your fingers.
The blinking call notice was gold¡ªthe color she¡¯d assigned to highest priority¡ªso she didn¡¯t even bother to check the identity. Cly was sitting across the table from her, and she didn¡¯t currently have a partner. So that meant it could only be her mother.
¡°Hi, mum!¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s up? It¡¯s the middle of the night in London, isn¡¯t it?¡±
There was complete silence for a few beats.
¡°Um¡¡± said an uncertain voice. ¡°This is Alden Thorn? Is this Han¡ªMs. Elber?¡±
Hannah dropped her playing cards.
¡°Hannah, you all right?¡± Cly said, frowning.
She shook her head frantically.
¡°This is Hannah.¡± Her voice came out in a squeak, so she cleared her throat. ¡°It¡¯s great to hear from you, Alden. What can I do for you?¡±
Oh shit, Cly mouthed. She made dramatic shushing motions at the rest of the table, even though it was unnecessary. The System wasn''t going to transfer their words through a call directed to Hannah.
¡°Okay,¡± said Alden. There was the sound of sharply indrawn breath, and then, in a fast monotone, like he was trying to get through a particularly unpleasant reading assignment, he said, ¡°I would like to ask you if it was really ninety seconds between Body Drainer¡¯s first two uses of his energy explosion skill and the moment when Mr. Thomas tackled him.¡±
Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, he continued.
¡°Because that¡¯s what I read online. That he used it for the first time¡ªtwice really fast¡ªand then he used it again ninety seconds later when he and Mr. Thomas came through the side of the building. Is that true? Was it ninety whole seconds?¡±
What is this? Hannah still hadn¡¯t put that disastrous Chicago mission behind her. She probably never would. But she¡¯d also thought she was done with most of the fallout from it. She¡¯d never expected to hear from Alden again.
¡°I¡didn¡¯t have a timer that night. But when we filed our reports, Arjun and I both agreed it was around ninety seconds? It could have been a little less.¡±
Am I saying the right thing? He¡¯s what¡eleven now? It¡¯s important to say the right thing! Hannah¡¯s head was a mess. She¡¯d wondered about the boy over and over, but it wasn¡¯t appropriate for her to bother him or his aunt just to assuage her own lingering guilt.
What did he want? What was this ninety seconds business? What if he asked for more details about the villain? What was she even allowed to tell civilians about that case? It had been a while since she¡¯d checked to see which things she knew were considered sensitive, and which were public information.
¡°Okay,¡± said Alden. ¡°Thank you. Bye.¡±
Wait, that¡¯s it?
¡°Um¡bye-bye.¡±
The kid had already hung up.
Hannah slumped down in her chair and put a hand to the front of her t-shirt. Shit. Her heart was racing like she¡¯d just done a post-stat increase sprint test.
¡°You all right?¡± Cly asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
¡°Yeah. That was unexpected. He just wanted to know¡ª¡±
The call notice flashed again. She could have used a few seconds to collect her thoughts, but her traitor hand clicked on it immediately.
¡°I forgot some of what I wanted to say.¡± Alden¡¯s speech was still rapid-fire, but it was slightly less monotone.
¡°Hit me with it,¡± Hannah said without pause. Because her mouth was a traitor, too.
¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault my parents died. I¡¯ve been doing a lot of research on you and Mr. Thomas and Body Drainer, and your power can¡¯t prevent explosions unless you know when and where the explosion is coming from. And you didn¡¯t even know Body Drainer could make an energy burst because he only did it for the first time during that fight.¡±
¡°I¡ª¡±
¡°The official report says my parents died when Mr. Thomas came through the wall and part of our building collapsed. Their bedroom was buried under stuff from the floor above and the roof. But I think they were already dead by then. From the first set of explosions. Because they didn¡¯t hear me yelling for them.¡±
He paused for a quick inhale, then dove right back in.
¡°I was screaming really loud when I woke up, but my mom and dad never came. They didn¡¯t even yell back to me. And if it was ninety seconds, they would have. I tested it on my Aunt Connie, and she came running in eight seconds. So they must have already been gone when you messed up and let Mr. Thomas and Drainer crash through the side of our building.¡±
Alden fell silent.
Hannah¡¯s hand was clenching the front of her shirt. She was trying to think of what she should say.
Thank you? That didn¡¯t seem right.
Let me fact check this information and get back to you to confirm? That definitely wasn¡¯t it.
Kid, are you okay?
Better. But still not great.
Apparently she¡¯d waited too long. Because the boy spoke again, in a slower, more pointed tone. Like he was trying to explain something to a younger child.
¡°I¡¯m telling you they died in the first explosion. The one you couldn¡¯t have done anything about anyway. Because you didn¡¯t know it was coming. So you don¡¯t have to feel bad about it¡okay?¡±
¡°O-okay,¡± said Hannah. ¡°Thank you so much for letting me know.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t have Mr. Thomas¡¯s number, so can you tell him, too?¡±
¡°Okay. I¡¯ll call him right away,¡± she said mechanically.
Hannah, you idiot. Be a hero. The eleven-year-old victim is being the mature, thoughtful one here. Do better. Think of something. You¡¯re going to feel like an ass if you don¡¯t say something comforting.
¡°Bye, then,¡± the boy said.
¡°Alden, wait!¡± Hannah¡¯s mind was still completely blank. She scrambled for an idea, and blurted out the first one that popped into her head. ¡°Do you want to come to Anesidora sometime? I could get you a day pass.¡±
She winced at herself. Those were totally for special circumstances and bigwigs and immediate family. But she could do it. Probably.
The boy seemed to be considering the offer. ¡°During summer break?¡± he suggested. ¡°Would it be expensive to fly there?¡±
Oh right. Travel to Point Nemo wasn¡¯t exactly simple.
¡°I¡¯ll get a teleport for you! The System can do that. You just¡let me know when you can come.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll ask my aunt if she minds,¡± he said. ¡°But she won¡¯t.¡±
¡°Great! See you this summer then!¡±
She¡¯d have a while to¡ª
¡°Break starts in three weeks.¡±
Shit. Northern Hemisphere.
¡°Cool!¡± she said, finally managing to summon up her Hero Hannah voice. ¡°Let me know what your aunt says. We¡¯ll make it happen!¡±
¡°She¡¯ll say yes. Bye.¡±
He hung up again.
Hannah rubbed a hand down her face. I think¡that went okay?
She¡¯d always wanted to do something for the kid, and it just hadn¡¯t been an option. A hero couldn¡¯t go inserting herself into a victim¡¯s life. But since he¡¯d called himself¡
I need to check on the case¡¯s facts again. Maybe call Arjun. He might answer after all this time.
¡°So¡Hannah?¡±
She looked up and saw Ilya watching her over the top of his hand of cards.
¡°Are you secretly dating a Rabbit?¡±
¡°What? No. You know I¡¯m single right now,¡± she said absently. She was racking her brain, trying to think of which friends she could call to get a travel pass on short notice.
¡°I dated a Rabbit once,¡± David said dreamily. ¡°She was so rich. But she would get yanked away by summons at the most awkward moments.¡±
¡°That¡¯s why she was rich,¡± Nuray pointed out. ¡°She was one of the lucky ones. Rabbits who never get summoned have zero skills and zero money. And that¡¯s most of them. It¡¯s a rough gig.¡±
¡°Hannah,¡± Cly said slowly, ¡°I think what our friends are trying to point out in a stupidly round-about way is that you just offered to purchase a custom teleport for a civilian kid.¡±
¡°We can do that can¡¯t we?¡± Hannah said anxiously, still flipping through contacts on her System screen. ¡°I know I¡¯ve heard of people doing it.¡±
¡°Yeah, but¡have you ever priced one?¡±
¡°No,¡± Hannah said. She¡¯d never needed to. Teleport was covered by the island government for official travel, and superhumans didn¡¯t really get the opportunity to do a lot of unofficial traveling. ¡°Why? Is it bad?¡±
Everyone else at the table exchanged glances.
Cly sighed. ¡°We¡¯ll¡start a fundraiser for you or something. It¡¯s a good cause. In the meantime, you should eat mostly ramen and beans.¡±
FIVE: The Nice One
five years later
¡° ¡¯s cold as tits,¡± Jeremy Levi muttered, rubbing his bare biceps with his hands as he stared out at the snow falling over the L¡¯s tracks. ¡°Alden, man, stop looking so warm. You¡¯ve got a sweater and a coat. It¡¯s not fair!¡±
His pale lips were almost as gray as the sky overhead, and his breath came out in frosty white puffs of fog.
¡°Agree to stupid dares, win stupid prizes.¡± Alden leaned against a railing while they waited for the train. ¡°It¡¯s twenty-something degrees. Did you seriously think you were stronger than frostbite?¡±
¡°I th-thought it¡¯d be ok-kay.¡± The chatter in Jeremy¡¯s teeth was probably only half drama. They¡¯d left his place fifteen minutes ago, and Jeremy was wearing flip-flops, shorts, and a sleeveless white tee with a picture of a dancing traffic cone on it.
¡°Are tits particularly cold?¡± Boe, the third member of their friend group, asked. He sounded amused. ¡°And since when do we use that metaphor anyway? It¡¯s a weird one.¡±
Boe looked shy and nerdy with his horn-rims, grandmotherly scarf, and horrible bowl haircut. But he had a nasty grin on his face as he took in the other boy¡¯s suffering.
¡°I¡¯ll loan you my scarf, Remy,¡± he cooed. ¡°Just beg.¡±
¡°N-no, you bastard! You¡¯re gonna give me that ten bucks when this is over. And then I¡¯m gonna shove it up your¡ª¡±
¡°It¡¯s a reference to witches.¡± Alden stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as the train approached the platform.
¡°W-what?¡±
¡°The saying. It¡¯s about witches, I think. Some superstition from a long time ago, maybe¡¡±
¡°Ha!¡± Jeremy exhaled another cloud of fog. ¡°Bet those Salem goons would¡¯ve had heart attacks if they could see us all now. We¡¯re on our way to alien school, you have a snack for a demon in your messenger bag, and Bo¡¯s got a Bedlam Beldam poster taped to the wall over his bed.¡±
¡°He¡¯s not really a demon,¡± said Alden, stepping into the least-crowded car. ¡°He¡¯s just¡a weird-looking extra-dimensional being who has to do community service for all eternity.¡±
¡°Because he murdered¡ª¡±
¡°Attempted to murder.¡±
¡°That¡¯s better?¡±
¡°Would you rather have someone attempt to murder you or succeed?¡±
¡°I bought that poster when I was eight,¡± Bo interrupted, turning his nose up at Jeremy. ¡°Everyone loves Bedlam Beldam when they¡¯re eight.¡±
¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re sixteen now, bro. That¡¯s a long time to stare at a superhero whose whole thing is talking to cats and wearing pointy hats.¡±
They took their seats, and while his friends argued about the merits of witch-themed heroes, Alden pulled out his phone. He did it almost without thinking about it.
I shouldn¡¯t do this again. It¡¯ll only make me gloomy for the rest of the morning.
But he didn¡¯t put the phone up. Instead, he tapped on the gleaming silver sigil that had appeared after he called Hannah for the first time.
It looked like an app, but it definitely wasn¡¯t. The thing was impossible to delete and appeared on any phone Alden held¡including a vintage rotary dial he¡¯d once encountered at a neighbor¡¯s house.
It was kind of creepy, but at least he wasn¡¯t alone. Anyone who had permission to call a superhero through the System apparently had the same bizarre perk. He held the phone to his ear.
¡°Play last three voicemails,¡± he muttered.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and Alden stared at his own distorted reflection in the metal pole beside his seat. He looked a lot like his father¡ªgreen eyes, hair hovering between true brown and auburn, average height for his age. His freckles had mostly disappeared for now, but they¡¯d be back in summer.
A familiar, bright voice interrupted his inspection.
¡°Hey, Alden! It¡¯s Hannah!¡±
Alden closed his eyes. He could picture the hero¡¯s smile. She was always unyieldingly perky when she spoke to him, whether it was during their few in-person meetups or over the phone. He didn¡¯t know if it was her natural personality or something she made an effort at.
¡°Listen, I just got a summons a few minutes ago. The real deal. It¡¯s only my fourth one ever. Pretty cool, right? Anyway, I have to go, so I might need to reschedule our annual visit. Wanted you to know so that you don¡¯t freak if the teleport notification doesn¡¯t come through for you in a couple of days like we planned. We¡¯ll hang out when I get back. There¡¯s this awesome new ice park on the island¡let¡¯s check it out together. See you soon!¡±
There was a trill of sound. Alden¡¯s grip tightened on the phone as the next message started to play.
¡°Alden, this is Hannah¡¯s friend Cly. We met once before. Everything¡¯s fine, I just wanted you to know that Hannah¡¯s still off on her quest. We expect her back any day now.¡±
Another trill, and then the latest one. He¡¯d received it a couple of weeks ago, and even though he¡¯d listened to it dozens of times, he still felt his pulse pick up.
¡°Hello, Alden. It¡¯s¡it¡¯s Cly again. I know we talked about the possibility of this when I reached out to you a couple of months ago, but¡. if Hannah¡¯s not back soon, there¡¯s going to be a funeral. February thirteenth. Her birthday. Like I said last time, it¡¯s¡extremely rare for a summons to last longer than a few weeks. And since it¡¯s been half a year, we¡ªher friends¡ªwe think it would be best to finally have some closure. For her mother at least. Let me know if I can order a teleport for you, okay? I know Hannah would appreciate you being there.¡±
There was a pause.
¡°Would you like to listen again?¡± the System said in the canned version of its voice.
Alden shut it off.
Outside the window, buildings raced past. They weren¡¯t far from his old neighborhood. The apartment building was still an apartment building. The nightclub where Body Drainer had murdered so many people was still a nightclub.
Everything was repaired. Like new. There were no scars left. Not where they could be seen anyway.
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The city had long-since moved on to new worries about new villains.
Just last night, there¡¯d been footage on the news of one of the city¡¯s current heroes-in-residence engaged in an unusual high-speed pursuit that started on North Avenue Beach. Some villain with earth shaping powers had apparently been constructing a lair under Lake Michigan for the past few years, and they¡¯d finally found him.
Skiff¡ªa popular hero who controlled water¡ªhad given chase. It had taken an hour, and he¡¯d flooded the ground floor of a couple of buildings downtown. A sewer had collapsed. Only minor injuries except to the villain, who was in intensive care after being drowned.
It was a decent outcome given the powers involved. Skiff seemed like a competent guy. But his smile had been strained on television, and even though they¡¯d spliced the footage to be flattering to him, it was clear he¡¯d been curt in his replies to the interviewer.
Alden couldn¡¯t help but remember something Hannah had once said.
On his first visit to the island, when he was eleven, he¡¯d taken a notebook full of questions about¡well, everything. Poor Hannah must have felt like she was being interrogated by a short, obsessed reporter.
They¡¯d talked all about the night his parents had died. Then, they¡¯d branched off into a more general discussion about powers and being a superhero. And she¡¯d said something that had stuck with him ever since:
¡°In college¡ªwhich is basically just one long training program here on the island¡ªwe had this assignment to come up with our heroic motto. Like a guideline for how we wanted to approach problems. I picked something really basic and cliche: ¡®Happy to help!¡¯ But now that I¡¯ve actually done hero work for a while, I think the motto I would go with is, ¡®We could have done that better.¡¯¡±
Sipping on a strawberry milkshake at the table across from her, Alden had frowned. ¡°That¡¯s not a good motto,¡± he¡¯d said seriously. ¡°Nobody would like a hero with a motto like that. It¡¯s sad.¡±
¡°Mmmm¡maybe it is. But I guess it¡¯s less of a motto for sharing with the public and more, like, a guideline for myself? When you¡¯re dealing with superpowers, there¡¯s so much room for error. Things happen faster than your brain can keep up. Physics gets counterintuitive. Or it doesn¡¯t apply at all. Some powers¡ªyour own and the bad guys¡¯¡ªjust feel so much bigger than you.¡±
She took a French fry from the shared plate between them.
¡°It¡¯s easy, when the dust settles, to say you did everything you could. It¡¯s easy to look away from all the places where you made mistakes, because there are always so many of them. It makes you feel horrible and useless even if you tried your best. But I think I want to be someone who doeslook, so that I make a few less errors in every battle. And maybe I want to do it so that the heroes I work with don¡¯t have to look too closely at it themselves. In a lot of ways, my power is easy to handle, emotionally, compared to something like super strength or mind control.¡±
Alden hadn¡¯t understood then, and she¡¯d dodged him when he asked her to clarify.
But he¡¯d paid attention in the years since. To the unsaid things behind the publicist-approved articles, to Hannah herself and her unusual dedication to being a support for other superheroes instead of standing in the limelight herself¡
Skiff is stressed because he had to drown that villain to end things.
It was only a guess, but it made sense. The hero had a kind of happy-go-lucky flair. He hosted beach volleyball tournaments and did a lot of charity events with kids. He had a spotless record as far as casualties went.
And the villain had gone down in the middle of a street. Not in one of the flooded areas.
The situation must have been getting out of hand. Skiff couldn¡¯t risk letting someone with a tunneling skill run wild with so many buildings around. He had to hold the guy down and force water into his lungs.
He needed a sidekick.
Hannah could have done it.
Well, that was a bad example. Hannah would have been a perfect matchup for the tunneler. She could have stuffed him into her magic bubble, and there wouldn¡¯t have been any need for another hero on the scene at all.
But there were tons of ways even a weak sidekick could have helped the superhero out with a case like this one. A buff that boosted Skiff¡¯s speed would have let him win the chase before it left his home turf on the lake. Anyone with a ranged attack would have been useful.
But sidekicks had gone out of fashion in the nineties. Before then, it was normal for an S-rank or A-rank superhuman¡ªthe usual ¡°superhero¡± ranks¡ªto work with an entourage of weak assistants. Teams were all the rage. But that had been a bad decade for villain activity, and people had started calling sidekicks ¡°bucket kicks¡± because they¡died. A lot.
For a while, sidekicks had a twelve percent survival rate in superhuman-on-superhuman battles.
It wasn¡¯t like they were supposed to be in those battles in the first place. They were supposed to be evacuating civilians and running coms and things like that. But villains didn¡¯t adhere to the rules of fair play, and targeting the squishy friends of the more dangerous hero was a pretty good psychological tactic.
So sidekicks were out. No city wanted the bloodstains on their image. Weak superhumans stayed on the island or, if they were lucky enough to be good at something flashy, worked in entertainment.
And there were just a few active superheroes these days who, like Hannah, deliberately chose skills that would be better for support than outright combat.
It was a dangerous choice, to take abilities that wouldn¡¯t be as good in a one-on-one fight. But Hannah had been so passionate about it. Battlefield support was supposed to be a multiplier for another hero, she¡¯d told Alden. A second fiddle that played like an entire orchestra.
¡°Two heroes fighting side by side is great,¡± she¡¯d said. ¡°But if one of those heroes is specced to complement the other¡it¡¯s like adding an exponent. You get something way more than the sum of its parts.¡±
Suddenly, a flip-flop nudged Alden¡¯s shin. His thoughts scattered, and he looked up
¡°Hey, man, this is our stop,¡± Jeremy nodded toward the doors. ¡°What¡¯s up with you? You were totally out of it.¡±
¡°Sorry. Just thinking about that essay assignment we got in lit class.¡±
¡°Ugh, why am I hanging out with you nerds?¡± Jeremy complained. ¡°We go to school five days a week already, and now the two of you have got me going to more school on the weekends.¡±
Boe clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Honestly, neither one of us thought you¡¯d actually apply to consulate classes when we suggested it. You could be doing anything right now, but you¡¯re here. I don¡¯t know whether I should be touched by your fidelity or saddened by your total lack of other friends.¡±
¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Alden agreed, grabbing his bag and standing. ¡°You¡¯re way needier than we realized. At this rate, you¡¯ll end up an honors student against your will.¡±
Jeremy looked appalled. ¡°Alden, you demon-feeding jerk! How dare you!? You¡¯re supposed to be the nice one.¡±
¡°I am?¡± Alden asked, genuinely surprised. ¡°I mean, I guess I¡¯m not as mean as Boe¡ª¡±
¡°You¡¯re just not trying hard enough,¡± Boe said sincerely as they took the stairs down to street level.
¡°Shut up, you two! I¡¯m the funny one. Boe¡¯s the mean one. Alden¡¯s the nice one.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t know you had us all labeled. Can we call me scathing instead of mean?¡±
¡°What makes me nice?¡± Most people who knew Alden would probably describe him as reserved. He thought his social skills were adequate when he called on them, but he wasn¡¯t an extrovert. He was overly comfortable doing his own thing, and he made friends mostly by happenstance.
Boe had attached himself to Alden in middle school, probably because Alden was the only member of their class he hadn¡¯t offended by the end of the first month. And Jeremy had somehow landed in their orbit as a freshman, when he¡¯d realized he wasn¡¯t enough of a jock to be one of the jocksin high school.
¡°I¡¯m glad I¡¯m nice, but I don¡¯t really think of myself that way¡¡±
¡°It¡¯s the whole superhero thing!¡± Jeremy said, rubbing his arms furiously as they walked. ¡°You act all sensible, and you have a multipage college plan as a sophomore. But you still really want to be that guy in spandex that rescues kitty cats from trees. Like¡I dunno. It¡¯s sweet, man.¡±
Alden winced.
Boe cackled. ¡°Oh my god, Alden, your expression!¡± Then, a confused look crossed his face. ¡°Maybe we should call Jeremy the insightful one? I didn¡¯t see that coming.¡±
SIX: Gorgon
Fifteen minutes later, Alden and his friends arrived at the Artonan consulate building. It was a blocky gray cube of concrete and glass, surrounded by a security fence. A trio of poles out front held the multicolored streamers the aliens used as their planetary flags.
Even in the beginning, there hadn¡¯t really been enough Artonans on Earth to justify functional diplomatic consulates in major cities. And now that Earth-Artonan political relations had been settled for decades, the so-called consulate was mostly a place for registering as a superhuman and taking classes.
The building¡¯s interior was more inviting than the outside. In the lobby, pale terrazzo floors shone under a dark wood ceiling flecked with tiny LED lights that formed a vaguely elliptical pattern.
It was supposed to be a map of important stars in the Artonans¡¯ home galaxy, but it came across as abstract art.
Jeremy, who was turning blue around the edges, had insisted that they stop at a coffee shop on the way, so they all had warm drinks. Alden had yet to develop an appreciation for coffee despite multiple attempts, so he was sipping a cinnamon hot chocolate.
A second one was clutched in his other hand.
¡°Give me a sec,¡± he said to his friends. ¡°Gotta make my delivery.¡±
Jeremy and Bo didn¡¯t answer. They were having an absurdly serious discussion about whether or not the coffee run was counter to the spirit of their dare.
Snow-damp boots squeaking on the polished floor, Alden headed toward the lobby desk. Sitting behind it was one of the only nonhumans in all of Chicago.
He was around five feet tall, with smooth gray skin that reminded Alden of a stingray he¡¯d pet once at the aquarium. He had black eyes like a shark and a wide, flat nose with four slits for nostrils. Alden didn¡¯t think the alien had ears, but it was hard to tell. His head was covered in a couple dozen protrusions that were similar to horns, each about two fingers wide and curving down around his skull to flare outward when they reached the top of his spine. Their sharp points made a sort of spiky protective choker around the backs and sides of his neck.
Most people, following a tradition that was pretty questionable in Alden¡¯s opinion, called the creature a demon. He was a deadly horned being purported to be from a dimension steeped in the dark powers of chaos. But still¡
He called himself Gorgon, and Alden went with that. Even though he assumed the name was more of a concession to human vocal cords than anything else.
As usual, Gorgon looked bored out of his strangely-shaped skull. He was chained to the lobby desk by glowing ropes of magic that wound around his arms and legs. Alden hadn¡¯t been able to confirm the details, but rumor had it that Gorgon hadn¡¯t left the lobby of this building since he was installed here by some powerful Artonan he¡¯d tried to disembowel forty years ago.
¡°Morning, Gorgon,¡± Alden said, approaching the desk. ¡°Brought you a hot chocolate.¡±
¡°No thank you.¡± Gorgon spoke without looking up from the pair of computer monitors in front of him. His voice was high pitched, with an undertone like the tinkle of breaking glass.
¡°It¡¯s not dairy. I got you one made with coconut milk.¡±
Alden set it on top of the desk beside a golden tray full of neatly arranged ballpoint pens.
Gorgon turned his head a fraction of an inch toward Alden, but his eyes were still fixed on the screens, which never showed anything but security footage from around the building.
Possibly, direct eye contact was rude among his kind.
Alden liked to assume that was the case anyway. He¡¯d been coming to the consulate regularly for around six weeks now, and he¡¯d never once managed to look Gorgon dead in the eye.
¡°Thank you,¡± Gorgon said finally, taking the hot cocoa in long gray fingers and flicking the lid off the top with a thick, black forked tongue.
¡°I also brought you this.¡± Alden reached under the flap of his messenger bag and pulled out a plastic takeout container full of chopped vegetables in oil. ¡°It¡¯s hot giardiniera from my favorite sandwich shop.¡±
He placed a plastic fork on top of it and a paper napkin. It didn¡¯t particularly matter that hot cocoa and spicy Italian relish was a weird combo to human tastes. Alden was still trying to figure out what the alien¡¯s food preferences actually were.
So far, all he¡¯d managed to determine was that Gorgon didn¡¯t mind spices and he was sort-of vegan. As in, he wouldn¡¯t take meat, dairy, or eggs from Alden, but Alden had once seen him eat a fly that landed on the back of his hand.
Maybe he¡¯s an environmentalist? It¡¯s not like it¡¯s his planet, but he is stuck here with us. No more plastic dishes then¡.
Gorgon slid his arm out, the papers on the desk glowing in the light of his chains, and took the container. He set it beside his keyboard.
¡°All right,¡± he said.
Pleased, Alden nodded and turned to go, but Gorgon¡¯s voice stopped him.
¡°Are you going to keep doing this every day?¡±
Alden looked back over his shoulder. ¡°Every day I come for classes. Unless you don¡¯t like it?¡±
The alien tipped his head up toward the ceiling.
¡°I like receiving offerings. But I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re bribing me. You¡¯re not physically attracted to me. I can smell that sort of thing on humans.¡± His nostrils flared. ¡°You don¡¯t reek of pity either. I had assumed you were one of those young idiots who thought the mysterious demon could grant you System access or other powers. But I listened in on your lessons last week, and you seem to be slightly less ignorant than others your age. So that¡¯s not likely.¡±
There was a note in his voice that might have been pensive, but Alden knew he shouldn¡¯t rely on his ability to interpret a nonhuman¡¯s inflections. Especially Gorgon¡¯s.
He¡¯d read literally everything he could find on the internet, trying to get information about the ¡°Desk Demon¡± imprisoned in Chicago¡¯s Artonan consulate. But there was nothing.
Well¡there were a lot of pictures on social media from tourists and extraterrestrial fans who¡¯d sought Gorgon out for a photo op. But beyond that, there was only a listing of his name, a series of runes that apparently described his home dimension, and a few lines about his life sentence.
Whatever Gorgon¡¯s species was, there wasn¡¯t another one of him on Earth as far as Alden could tell.
And apparently he could smell pheromones? Or maybe even emotions? So Alden probably shouldn¡¯t lie to him.
¡°It¡¯s a little embarrassing, but I thought¡if I ever get superpowers one day, it would be great to know someone with better insight into the System than the stuff that¡¯s available to the public. And it¡¯s not like there are a lot of options for that kind of thing.¡± He gave the alien a nervous smile. ¡°I guess I was hoping to make friends with you in advance in case I ever needed your advice.¡±
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Gorgon continued staring up at the ceiling.
¡°Ah. How unfortunate for you. I am specifically barred from giving humans any information about the Artonans, the System, my own kind, magic, chaos, extra-dimensional incursions, and a veritable encyclopedia of other interesting things. If it¡¯s not widely known by your species already, then I¡¯m not allowed to discuss it with you. And the bindings on me are quite¡thorough. You¡¯ve chosen a very poor advisor.¡±
He sat up straight then and cracked open the giardiniera. He shoved a forkful in his mouth.
¡°Though maybe you don¡¯t actually care much about the fact that I will most likely be useless to you?¡± He smacked his lips. ¡°If you¡¯re already making plans for the day when you might be one of the¡fortunate¡few, you must have a high tolerance for disappointment. Your chances are worse than one in a thousand, you know?¡±
Alden hesitated. He stepped back toward the desk and lowered his voice so that his friends couldn¡¯t hear him. They knew about Hannah, but they didn¡¯t know about this.
¡°I have¡had a friend who thought maybe my chances of being selected might be better than normal. And if that¡¯s true, I figure I should do everything I can to make sure it works out. I know how it sounds. I¡¯ve got backup plans, but this is my¡I have kind of a specific dream.¡±
It was an embarrassing admission. Saying your dream was to be a superhuman was cute when you were a little kid. It was awkward by the time you hit twelve or thirteen. Now that Alden was on the cusp of turning sixteen, he was hyperaware of how cringey it was, even if Jeremy apparently thought it was endearing.
Alden might as well be making plans for his future career as a lottery winner.
Gorgon exhaled sharply. ¡°So you¡¯re a fantasist. That¡¯s amusing. Humans have no reliable means of determining who the system will choose.¡±
¡°My friend was one of the Avowed. An Adjuster.¡±
¡°Unless they adjusted you in morally disgusting ways, then that doesn¡¯t change much.¡±
Alden shrugged. He knew it was a long shot. Hannah wasn¡¯t a scientist who studied power acquisition. She¡¯d just mentioned in passing, one single time when he was thirteen, that she¡¯d used her Bubble of Patient Waiting on hundreds of people and animals, trying to refine her understanding of the spell.
¡°And only three people other than you were conscious inside it!¡± she¡¯d announced.
They¡¯d been standing in line to buy tickets to a martial arts showcase that day. Hannah always planned some kind of activity for their annual summer meet-up on the island.
¡°All of them were kids of superhumans. Weird, isn¡¯t it? My best guess is you¡¯ve got abnormally high CP. Not like we can measure it. But in theory that means you¡¯re more likely than average to be granted powers of your own one day. Don¡¯t count on it, though.¡±
CP. Chaos potential. Simple sounding words with a meaning absolutely shrouded in mystery.
High CP had something to do with people being chosen by the System. But the only ones who knew if you had high CP were Artonan wizards. And they were so tight-lipped about it that humans only knew it was a thing at all because the System sometimes mentioned it in skill descriptions.
Children of superhumans were much more likely to be chosen than regular people, which was assumed to be because CP had a genetic or environmental component.
Beyond that, everything was just guesses.
¡°All I can do for you is point you to the restroom or the elevator,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°And if you were to miraculously beat the odds and obtain a class, I could register it for you with Earth¡¯s governments. I could also serve as your witness for a pre-affixation trade with another empowered individual. That¡¯s it. It¡¯s the same set of services I provide for literally anyone who walks into my charming prison here. No advice about skill or spell choices, no secret intel about our alien overlords, no contracts that will invest you with my mighty authority.¡±
He paused, then added, ¡°I can give you as many ballpoint pens as you like. Knowing all that, do you still want to keep bribing someone who has far less power to assist you than your average tech support agent?¡±
Alden nodded. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll keep bringing you stuff. It probably sucks being literally chained to a desk. Is there anything in particular you want?¡±
Gorgon stared at the space over Alden¡¯s head for such a long time that Alden began to wonder if their conversation was over. Then, in a strangely strained voice, he said, ¡°I¡¯m not vegan.¡±
¡°Oh! Do you want some meat next time? Sorry¡I thought because you said no to a few things¡ª¡±
¡°I couldn¡¯t eat any of those things.¡±
Alden frowned, mentally cataloging the things Gorgon had refused to eat¡ª shrimp chips, an egg and cheese breakfast biscuit, turkey jerky, a latte made with cow¡¯s milk. ¡°Um, I¡¯m not sure¡do you only eat insects?¡±
Gorgon was breathing harder than normal. He continued to stare off into space. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you that or make requests. You¡¯ll have to put some thought into it.¡±
¡°Got it,¡± Alden said. Even though he didn¡¯t get it at all. Was it part of the ¡®don¡¯t tell humans anything about anything spell¡¯ he seemed to be under? It even included his diet? That seemed¡wayyy more extreme than Alden had imagined.
But now he wasn¡¯t just idly feeding a possible future resource. He was genuinely, deeply curious. Why wouldn¡¯t Gorgon be allowed to request certain food?
If the reason was only punitive, then whoever had chained him to the desk was really vindictive.
But it had to be that, didn¡¯t it?
If something bad would happen to the universe if Gorgon ate exactly the right piece of meat, then he wouldn¡¯t be here, where any random human could get to him and offer him treats. Right?
Artonans weren¡¯t flawless¡ªdespite what some of scarier cults floating around would have you believe¡ªbut they also weren¡¯t that sloppy.
So¡it¡¯s definitely a don¡¯t-let-the-prisoner-ever-have-a-moment-of-happiness thing, right? Alden decided. That¡¯s harsh.
¡°We¡¯ll trial and error it?¡± he suggested.
¡°Looking forward to it.¡± Gorgon definitely sounded sarcastic now, but Alden decided to interpret it as a friendly sort of sarcasm.
Icy wind swept through the lobby as the doors opened, and Alden looked around to see a couple of girls with familiar faces. He hadn¡¯t caught their names, but they were both in his first class of the day.
They giggled and waved at him. He waved back absently.
¡°You should tell them you¡¯re not interested,¡± said Gorgon. His face was fixed on his monitors again.
¡°What?¡±
¡°Because they¡¯re interested.¡±
Alden stared at him, perplexed.
¡°They¡¯re attracted to you, stupid. So is that boy with the blue hair in your four o¡¯clock. Best to put all three of them out of their teenage misery unless I¡¯m reading you wrong.¡±
There was a mirror behind the desk, and Alden had the pleasure of seeing himself turning into a human stoplight. ¡°Oh my g¡ª¡±
¡°Point Jeremy at the tall girl and Boe at the short one. Problem partially solved.¡±
¡°You can¡¯t just comment on private pref¡Gorgon, it¡¯s not okay to¡stop that!¡± Alden hissed.
¡°Tell them to stop it,¡± Gorgon said. ¡°They¡¯re the ones stinking up my lobby.¡±
SEVEN: A Little Delusional
The courses offered at the consulate were not, for the most part, popular.
There had been a two-week Artonan language intensive that was well-attended during the winter break, but now schools were back in session, and the people coming for extra classes in the afternoons and on weekends were mostly overachievers or geeks of some sort.
The ten o¡¯clock class on Saturday was the only one that was full of relatively normal people. Alden and his friends stuffed their shoes and socks into the cubbies that lined the walls by the lobby elevators and headed upstairs to the small ballroom that served as their classroom. It was packed with other teens and twenty-somethings, and all of them were barefoot except for one girl in a cast.
It was rude to wear shoes or socks in the presence of an Artonan who was teaching you.
Bet she wouldn¡¯t feel that way if she had to be here in person and smell the funk of a hundred pairs of human feet that were sweating in winter boots until a few minutes ago.
Alden took a seat between his friends in the back corner. Just after ten, the huge screen hanging at the front of the room flashed with a symbol similar, but not identical, to the one that always appeared on phones for Alden. And then their teacher was there, her image magically beamed in from another universe.
Even though it was confined to the flat surface of the screen, the video had a strange depth to it. It was almost like watching a moving bas-relief sculpture.
¡°Good morning, my students,¡± Instructor Pa-weeq said. Her voice would easily pass for human, and her face¡might have. Her bone structure was too sharp, her forehead too prominent, and her pale brown skin had a violet undertone that was a little oversaturated. But the midnight blue facial tattoos were the real giveaway.¡°Welcome to our fifth session. Last time we finished our examination of the evolution of sentient life on Artona. Today, we will dance forward to the moment when that life began to understand the magic of the planes.¡±
She droned on, and the eyes of Alden¡¯s classmates slowly glazed over.
This was ¡°A History of Artonan Life.¡± Virtually everyone here was taking it for the same reason. Passing the test at the end of the course gave you college credit. And in many cases, high schools would count it toward your credits for graduation, too, so you could double dip.
It probably wouldn¡¯t have been boring in a human teacher¡¯s hands, but Artonans really had a knack for picking out the dullest parts of their own history. Alden had checked the syllabus, and the wizards from space had an entire two-hour session scheduled that focused on the development of irrigation on their planet.
Even Alden, who made a conscious effort to stay conscious in these classes, thought he might struggle in that one.
Today, instead of listening, he wrote ¡°The Gorgon Problem¡± on top of his paper and passed the time by listing various animal-based foods. When he¡¯d covered everything he could legally obtain and afford, he started a new section and wrote down a list of increasingly unlikely reasons why Gorgon would be unable to request specific food items.
It has to be just a spiteful part of his prison sentence, right? he thought again, looking down at the list.
Almost everything else that could have been a reason would have constituted a significant danger to society. And Alden couldn¡¯t bring himself to believe the Artonans would make a potential nuke work as a desk clerk in downtown Chicago.
The next most reasonable option was that the restriction was to prevent Gorgon from requesting poison and ending his own life. But surely the alien had other ways if he was so inclined?
The third barely logical theory was that Gorgon¡¯s natural diet was something so repugnant that the mere mention of it would cause a public outcry and demands that he be removed from Earth or executed. Like¡if human babies were his preferred snack.
Again, that would make him too dangerous to keep around. Plus how would he even develop a taste for human flesh? There shouldn¡¯t be any wherever he¡¯s from.
Maybe it¡¯s just kind of gross and not completely horrific?
He pondered the one housefly he¡¯d seen Gorgon eat. An idea popped into his head.
Live prey only?
I mean, it would be weird if that was it, since he seems okay eating veggies. But he is an alien. Oh¡oh, maybe he has to kill animals himself to make sure it¡¯s done right? Like a religious thing?
He just gobbled that fly though¡didn¡¯t look like he did anything special to it first.
He wrote down, ¡°Live bugs.¡±
He could find a pet shop or a bait shop and buy Gorgon some crickets if nothing else worked. Or maybe he should do that first? Confirm the cheaper theory before he dipped into his savings to buy out a butcher shop?
That¡¯s a good way to organize the tests anyway. Start with the cheap stuff, work from there.
When the class finished up, he was busy making a new list entitled ¡°Extremely Cheap Not-Vegan Foodstuffs for Nonhumans.¡±
Boe kicked Jeremy awake, and the three of them headed to a convenience store to scrounge up lunch. Alden grabbed a pre-made cobb salad, and they ate at a small counter beside the slushy machines.
¡°What¡¯s something extremely cheap you can eat that¡¯s not vegan?¡± he asked.
¡°Is this for your scary murderer friend?¡± Jeremy asked. ¡°I thought you said he was vegan.¡±
¡°Save some of the toppings from your salad for him. That¡¯s cheap.¡± Boe was squeezing mustard and mayo packets into his Doritos bag like a monster. ¡°Kind of insulting, but cheap.¡±
¡°He says he¡¯s not vegan. But he couldn¡¯t eat any of the meat or dairy I¡¯ve offered him so far.¡±
¡°I liked him being vegan better,¡± Jeremy muttered.
¡°Why don¡¯t you just ask him what he likes?¡±
¡°He can¡¯t tell me.¡±
They both stopped eating and turned to look at him.
¡°For real. He says it¡¯s part of his prison sentence or something. He can¡¯t tell us anything about Artonans or the System. He can¡¯t make food requests, and when I asked if he only ate bugs he couldn¡¯t even tell me yes or no.¡±
¡°That¡¯s weird,¡± said Boe, frowning down at his chips. ¡°I get why he can¡¯t go around spreading arcane knowledge about the System, but a prohibition on asking for food? Why would that kind of restriction be in place? Now I want to try feeding him stuff.¡±
¡°Right? I spent the whole class trying to think of reasons for it. Other than it being a bizarre part of his punishment, I couldn¡¯t come up with much.¡±
¡°Maybe he¡¯d ask for something really nasty if he was able to?¡± Boe suggested.
¡°Like human blood,¡± Jeremy agreed darkly.
¡°He¡¯s not a vampire, Jeremy.¡± Not that Alden had much ground to stand on since he¡¯d briefly considered the baby-eater angle.
¡°Blood¡¯s cheap though. If you use your own I mean. No idea what it would cost to buy someone else¡¯s.¡± Boe used his teeth to rip open another mayonnaise packet. ¡°And it¡¯s definitely not vegan.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll take it under consideration. Do either of you know where I can buy crickets?¡±
¡°You two are gross,¡± Jeremy said. ¡°Forget what I said this morning. You¡¯re the gross ones now. It¡¯s official.¡±
###
After lunch, they split up. Boe was taking a culture class to beef up his transcript, and Alden and Jeremy were taking Beginners Wordchaining.
Jeremy had chosen it because there were no homework assignments. Alden had selected it because it reminded him of his mother, and it might be useful one day. If he ever went to medical school or nursing school like she did¡or became a hero like Hannah¡
I really am a little delusional.
He¡¯d been thinking lately that maybe it was okay to be. It¡¯s unavoidable, isn¡¯t it? Everyone our age is in waiting.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Sure, it wasn¡¯t likely that the System would choose you. But it might. And until you knew for sure, it was hard to let it go.
In the wordchaining classroom, Alden took his seat on a square pad that was decorated in mystical symbols that did nothing to disguise the fact that it was just a truncated yoga mat.
Jeremy flopped down beside him with an unnecessarily loud oof.
¡°Today is for our portion of sacrifice,¡± their teacher intoned. She was human, but it was clear she didn¡¯t want to be. She had very sharp cheek implants and her foundation was leaning toward mauve. ¡°We will begin with the gift of our peace of mind. Please, no shouting this time, Raquel. It doesn¡¯t make the chain stronger. I will come around to monitor your inflection.¡±
Alden closed his eyes and began to murmur the words that would offer his own peace of mind across the vastness of the universe to some other world where an Opposite would be praying for the gift of it.
In theory.
Artonan healers and priests could tell when it was working. Everyone else just had to hope.
Sorry, Opposite. I¡¯m not super focused right now, so I don¡¯t know if my peace of mind will do you any good.
Beside him, Jeremy was butchering the wordchain with quiet dedication. Alden tried not to smile when his friend accidentally offered his Opposite his actual brain instead of his peace of mind.
Annnnd I¡¯m really not into it today, he thought with a smidge of guilt. It was a waste of time to say the words if you didn¡¯t mean them. There was no point if it wasn¡¯t sincere.
Alden had this chain down thoroughly. And he was in the black as far the peace of mind trade went; he¡¯d done more repetitions of the sacrificer¡¯s half of this chain than of the recipient¡¯s.
Fine to fake it then.
He let his thoughts drift back to himself.
Whatever reasonable plans he¡¯d made might be turned upside down any second now by an extraordinary twist of fate. Or never. Which wasn¡¯t so different from life in general. Lightning could strike you any time. You could find out you were terminally ill. A billionaire uncle you didn¡¯t know about could name you as his heir.
Those things seemed like outside chances, though. And every single day, you heard about some teenager coming into their powers. Social media felt like it was wall to wall young superhumans. It made it feel like getting your own turn was a possibility just around the corner instead of something terribly unlikely.
Yep. Delusional.
The unreasonable longing had been worse since Hannah disappeared six months ago. Alden didn¡¯t realize how seriously he¡¯d taken her opinions about what heroes could and should be until she was gone. He¡¯d thought they were just acquaintances brought together by a tragedy.
But he¡¯d enjoyed hearing from her, and he¡¯d naturally been a little fascinated. She was a person who lived in a different world.
Once or twice, he¡¯d even leaned on her when he needed an adult who was an actual adult. Instead of Aunt Connie.
He¡¯d stopped that when he caught himself calling Hannah for help choosing his classes for his first year of high school. She¡¯d been cool about it, like always. But he¡¯d had a mortifying moment when he hung up and realized he¡¯d literally made a magic phone call to a superhero to chat about his Algebra II anxieties.
He¡¯d promised himself he would pay more attention to boundaries. But apparently at some point he¡¯d started idolizing Hannah, just a little bit, without realizing it. Because now that she was gone, he kept looking around for the particular light she¡¯d given off and finding that it was nowhere to be seen.
¡°You good, man?¡± Jeremy murmured, right in the middle of another sacred promise to donate his neurons to an alien in need.
Alden realized his expression must have been grim. He opened his eyes a crack and glanced over at Jeremy.
Maybe he really is the insightful one.
¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good.¡±
###
Boe and Jeremy went home at three. Alden hung around for the last class of the day. It was an exhausting intro to one version of the Artonan writing system, which was logographic and required brutal amounts of memorization.
There were only six students. Four of them, including the wordchain teacher, were there because they were pure Artonan enthusiasts. One was a Ph. D. candidate who actually needed to know the language. And then there was Alden.
He¡¯d signed up because he didn¡¯t see any point in going home on a Saturday evening when it would only be him and the cat sitting around together, wondering if Aunt Connie was coming home with fast food for dinner or if she was going to disappear for the night with nothing more than a ¡°Met a friend! You good for tonight?¡± text to let him know she hadn¡¯t been mugged.
She¡¯d gotten even laxer when it came to parenting since Alden had become a teenager. It was easier not to be worried for her or angry about her behavior if he kept himself busy in the evenings.
He whipped out a six-inch thick deck of flash cards and tried to pound the symbols on them into his memory for two hours while his teacher pointed out the minute details that separated one logogram from the next.
When it was over, his head ached. He went to the bathroom, and by the time he got out, the building was empty except for him. And Gorgon.
He wasn¡¯t eager to head out into the cold. Or go home. So he wandered over to the desk.
¡°Do you have a room to sleep in? When everybody leaves?¡±
¡°No room.¡± Gorgon stared past Alden¡¯s left ear. ¡°I don¡¯t need much sleep. I just stay at the desk or use the lobby furniture if I¡¯m so inclined.¡±
Alden folded his arms on the desk and leaned forward to rest his chin on them. In the dimmed lights, the spikes around Gorgon¡¯s neck seemed especially eerie.
¡°Do you just eat out of the vending machines when I don¡¯t bring you things?¡± he asked curiously. ¡° ¡®cause I was thinking about it in logographic torture class, and you can¡¯t do takeout. Unless you call and say, ¡®Bring food¡¯ without requesting anything specific? I don¡¯t think that would work well, and I bet you can¡¯t order anything online either. I¡¯m not really sure how magic works, but I¡¯m betting the Artonans wouldn¡¯t have left that kind of hole in whatever it is that binds you here.¡±
For the first time ever, Alden saw Gorgon blink. It was incredibly weird. His eyelids were translucent with dark veins.
¡°Go home, Alden,¡± said the alien. ¡°You¡¯re tired and punchy. You don¡¯t need to worry about me.¡±
¡°Mmm¡I¡¯m not worried. I was just thinking it sucks to be alone sometimes, and you¡¯re alone most of the time. Most people don¡¯t even say ¡®hi¡¯ to you when they walk through the lobby.¡±
Gorgon looked back at his computer screens. ¡°Plenty of humans come to the consulate specifically to see me. I have been extensively photographed, and I¡¯m given to understand that there are plushies of me in at least one gift shop in the city. I¡¯m practically a minor celebrity.¡±
There was something in his voice. It wasn¡¯t at all the tone an upset human would have, but it was different than anything Alden had heard from Gorgon before. It made him concerned he¡¯d stepped into more painful territory than he¡¯d intended.
He¡¯d only thought of all the social media posts with Gorgon in them as people being idiots. But it was darker than that. Gorgon literally couldn¡¯t get away from a camera. It¡¯s like he¡¯s a zoo animal.
But he didn¡¯t want pity. He¡¯d implied he could smell it. So Alden tried to rein the sudden rush of it he felt all the way back in.
He stood up straight and cleared his throat. ¡°Anywaaay¡I¡¯m gonna bring you some crickets next time. Live ones.¡±
¡°That will be noisy,¡± Gorgon said in a neutral voice.
¡°Not if you eat them quick.¡±
Alden waited in case Gorgon could drop some kind of a hint.
He didn¡¯t.
¡°Hey¡I don¡¯t know if you can tell me this or not, but you won¡¯t be offended if I bring you extremely weird stuff to eat, right? Because I¡¯m assuming your natural diet must be pretty different from a human¡¯s, and I want to find the right thing. But I don¡¯t want to upset you.¡±
¡°Ah, the trials of a cross-species acquaintanceship.¡±
Gorgon glanced down at the backs of his hands. His wrists were raw beneath the magical bindings. Alden had never noticed that before. ¡°I will not be offended. But, Alden, I truly did not mean to bring up sustenance with you at all earlier. I have appreciated and enjoyed your offerings. If nothing else, they are an amusement in a very un-amusing life. My declaration earlier today¡ª ¡±
¡°The one about not being vegan?¡±
¡°Yes, that one. It was prompted by¡a costly moment of melancholy. It is not a problem for you to solve.¡±
That was melancholy earlier? Alden had thought he detected sarcasm. And how was it costly?
Well, it would be costly for Alden if he had to start in on the more exotic items on his list of meats.
¡°I understand. But you really reached all the way for a word like ¡®acquaintanceship¡¯ when ¡®friendship¡¯ was right there for the taking?¡± he said lightly. ¡°Maybe I should be offended.¡±
¡°You¡¯re still bringing the crickets, aren¡¯t you?¡± Gorgon said in that deliberately neutral tone.
¡°Chirp, chirp.¡± Alden winked at him. ¡°Have a good night, Gorgon!¡±
EIGHT: Tiger Shorts
Gorgon didn¡¯t eat the crickets.
Honestly, it was a real head-scratcher. Alden had been so sure that the alien would actually eat them that he¡¯d bought thirty. Of all his ideas, this one was supposed to be the sure thing.
What was the difference between flies and crickets? They were live prey. They were insects. Neither were poisonous. Gorgon couldn¡¯t have come from a universe where they scorned all meat except for Musca domestica; that was just stupid.
Alden was baffled.
But even though he didn¡¯t eat the crickets, Gorgon did seem to like them. When he thought Alden wasn¡¯t watching, he gave the bugs chirping on his desk in their plastic carrier a single, shockingly human smile. Then he¡¯d relocated them all, placing them in various potted plants scattered throughout the lobby.
For a time, Alden toyed with the idea that Gorgon might only be able to eat live prey he¡¯d hunted himself. But there was really no point in going down that path. Gorgon could have chased down the crickets after releasing them, but he didn¡¯t.
A couple of weeks later, their song still echoed around the lobby in the afternoons.
And if the alien needed his prey to be truly wild¡well, it wasn¡¯t like Alden was likely to find an elk roaming the streets of Chicago. And he couldn¡¯t stomach the idea of baiting feral cats into the lobby. He had a semi-feral cat at home, and they got along well.
He kept at it, though. Every time he came to class he brought takeout containers full of random food for the alien. One vegan dish, one meat. So far he hadn¡¯t had any successes.
Maybe that fly had just annoyed Gorgon so badly that he¡¯d eaten it out of spite?
In early February, Alden dragged his friends into a carniceria that was becoming all too familiar and stared into the glass case, looking for inspiration.
¡°You know,¡± said Boe, while Alden checked the prices on tripe, ¡°I didn¡¯t want to bring this up¡but don¡¯t you think you¡¯re focusing on this Gorgon thing so hard because you¡¯re trying to ignore something else?¡±
¡°Like what?¡±
Boe looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Alden saw him exchange a glance with Jeremy, who cracked his knuckles and leaned back on his heels.
¡°Boe¡¯s talking about your friend¡¯s funeral,¡± said Jeremy. ¡°You gonna go?¡±
Alden turned away from them. His breath fogged the glass on the cooler.
¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± He tried to keep his voice casual. ¡°She¡¯s¡it¡¯s not like I knew anyone on Anesidora Island except for Hannah. Everyone who will be there was way closer to her than I ever was. I don¡¯t want to intrude.¡±
¡°You should go,¡± said Jeremy.
¡°You should,¡± Boe agreed. ¡°Funerals are sucky by nature. I don¡¯t think you being there could make it better or worse for anyone else.¡±
¡°Right,¡± said Jeremy. ¡°Nobody else will care if you go or not. But you¡¯ll care. You¡¯ll be really pissed at yourself when you wake up the morning after and realize you missed the chance.¡±
There was a long, painful pause. Alden didn¡¯t know how to respond.
¡°And then you¡¯ll go nuts and try to bust your demon pal out of prison,¡± Boe said lightly. ¡°Chicago will turn into some kind of hell dimension, and we¡¯ll all die.¡±
Jeremy glared at him.
¡°It was getting way too serious. I couldn¡¯t take it anymore.¡± He shrugged apologetically. ¡°They do tacos de lengua here, Alden. They¡¯re good. Get those. You can eat them for lunch when Gorgon rejects them.¡±
###
Wordchain class that day focused on the request for a trade of luck. It was the first one Alden¡¯s mother had ever taught him, the same one he¡¯d said in his heart when he was inside Hannah¡¯s bubble.
He always felt a little weird about performing this one, even though he knew it well.
While the teacher gave pointers to Raquel, who still hadn¡¯t gotten over her habit of shouting the words in a near-religious frenzy, Alden tried to control his breathing. He focused on his inflection. He made the delicate curving hand sign he hadn¡¯t been able to make years ago, on that night when he¡¯d really needed it.
Maybe that was why it didn¡¯t work.
Yikes. That was a dangerous thought. Bitter. Childish. He knew from experience that he could spiral down from it into ugly emotions if he let himself. He tried to change gears.
Even if I don¡¯t go to the funeral, I have to call Hannah¡¯s friend back. I can¡¯t just leave her offer hanging forever. It¡¯s rude.
¡°¡em utch ya-cku durz-u hu-morit.¡±
He finished the chain in a whisper and started again.
A waste. If a tiny slice of luck lands on me today, I don¡¯t have anything important to do with it.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
It was ten days until the funeral.
Alden knew Hannah was almost certainly gone. It had been hard to get a straight answer online, but it seemed like only a handful of people had ever received a summons that took them longer than a few weeks to complete. A tiny, tiny percentage.
Sometimes, the Artonans sent a message letting the people back on Earth know that a hero had died on a quest, but mostly they didn¡¯t.
Real dick move there. Why doesn¡¯t the island complain about it?
Alden didn¡¯t even know what kind of quest Hannah had been given. He hoped it was something noble. Something that mattered.
Hannah Elber really, really wanted her life to matter.
More than anyone else Alden had ever met.
People say they want to make a difference all the time, but they don¡¯t mean it. Hannah had actually meant it. She¡¯d planned for it. Worked toward it. Worried about it. I know she¡¯d be okay with dying for the right reason.
Alden wished the thought made him feel better.
His mood was dark for the rest of the day, even though Jeremy kept trying to cheer him up. And his temper only soured more when he made it back home at seven o¡¯clock and found a note from his aunt taped to the fridge.
She¡¯d gone to California. ¡°Just for a few days with a friend!¡± the note said. ¡°Bought some groceries. Call if you need me!¡±
¡°You can¡¯t do things like this,¡± Alden muttered, ripping the note off and tossing it into the trash. ¡°You know you can¡¯t.¡±
He tried to calm himself down with logic. What was the worst that could happen?
He was almost sixteen. He had money of his own from his parents¡¯ estate and the settlements from their deaths. It wasn¡¯t a ton, but it was enough in combination with the scholarship money that had been set aside for his future education to guarantee he wouldn¡¯t sink if he had to look after himself.
In just a couple of months, he¡¯d be old enough that a court should be willing to emancipate him instead of shoving him into foster care because his aunt was a massive flake.
But it had been close at least once when he was younger.
Aunt Connie had done almost exactly this same thing. A neighbor had caught on. He had asked Alden if he¡¯d been left alone for the entire week and hadn¡¯t believed him when he¡¯d lied and said his aunt was just working nights¡
It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s done. Having the house to myself is kind of like a vacation. He opened the fridge and found a gray plastic grocery bag full of sandwich stuff and mini orange juices.
He stared at the supplies for a while. The juice had crushed the bread.
She didn¡¯t even bother to unload the bag.
Alden was unreasonably angry about that.
Grumbling, he ate fried bologna and tried not to pick at all of the flaws in his life.
The overdue electric bill sitting on top of the microwave was not a disaster. The pile of dirty coffee mugs his aunt had left in the sink could be washed in a few minutes. The tiger-striped boxer shorts¡ªdefinitely not Alden¡¯s own¡ªcrumpled in a corner of the living room were kind of funny if viewed through a generous lens.
But Alden¡¯s lens wasn¡¯t generous this evening. He didn¡¯t know why. Usually he was really good at letting Aunt Connie¡¯s chaos wash around him without touching him.
There was a mewing sound at the front door, and feeling relieved to be interrupted from his thoughts, he jumped up to let in the cat.
¡°Hey, Victor. You¡¯re gracing me with your presence tonight, huh? Why¡¯d you go out there on such a cold nasty day, anyway?¡±
The orange tomcat was named Victor because he was all scarred up. Alden liked to imagine he¡¯d been the victor of many battles.
The cat wove around his ankles, shedding obscene amounts of fur and meowing. Alden bent down to scratch him behind the ears.
¡°Let¡¯s get you some dinner.¡±
He opened the cabinet where he kept the cat food and frowned. It was missing. He¡¯d definitely had several cans left, purchased from the same store as the crickets. Had his aunt moved them?
He searched cabinets and drawers. He looked inside the fridge again. He dug through the trash just in case his aunt had already fed the cat entirely too much food before she left and then thrown the cans out.
But there was nothing.
What the hell? Did she get confused and take them with her? He glanced at the boxers in the corner. Did tiger shorts steal my freaking cat food?
He grabbed his phone and texted his aunt.
Where¡¯s the cat food?
She didn¡¯t answer right away, so he gave Victor a small piece of bologna. After his shower, he checked his messages again.
Aunt Connie? Cat food?
Still nothing.
Alden stood in his room, drying his hair with a towel, trying to be nonjudgmental. No way am I going to sleep anytime soon. I¡¯m too worked up. Might as well make a bad night worse, right?
It was as good a time to make a hard phone call as any. He grabbed his phone and pressed the sigil. He took a deep breath, then said, ¡°Call Clytem Zhao.¡±
The System connected straight to the hero¡¯s voicemail instead of to her directly. That was a relief at least. Alden wasn¡¯t prepared for a long heart-to-heart.
Keep it simple. That¡¯s safest.
¡°Hi, Ms. Zhao. This is Alden. I¡¯m sorry I took so long to get back to you. I¡¯d like to go to the funeral, if it¡¯s not too much trouble for you to get me there. Thank you for offering.¡±
He hung up.
There. Decision made. Now to do something to distract himself from feeling so many feelings.
Alden threw on a t-shirt, pulled a sweatshirt on over it, and grabbed the pillow from his bed. When he stepped out into the living room, the cat was there, sniffing the unwelcome underwear.
¡°You want to go grab some tuna and meet somebody?¡± Alden asked him.
Victor meowed.
¡°That¡¯s the spirit. How do you feel about demons?¡±
NINE: Gorgon
It was nearly eleven when Alden arrived in front of the consulate building. The street was quiet, which only made the angry sounds coming from the cat carrier in his hand more disturbing. Victor didn¡¯t do confinement, and he wanted everyone in the neighborhood to know it.
In Alden¡¯s other hand, he carried a pair of overstuffed grocery bags. His pillow was tucked under his arm.
I¡¯ve completely lost it, he thought as he stared up at the dark building. I¡¯m behaving like a drunk person, and I don¡¯t even have the excuse of being one.
Alden had always been a planner. He saw now that this was not an optional state of being for him, since without a plan he just¡did random insane things.
The consulate was closed. Obviously. Because there was literally no reason for anyone to hang out there in the middle of the night. But there was something that looked like an intercom on the gate.
I came all the way here, so I might as well.
He maneuvered the cat carrier toward the intercom and managed to press the button with a knuckle while Victor hissed and yowled. There was no sound or blinking light to indicate whether or not the device was working.
¡°Hello?¡± he said. ¡°This is Alden.¡±
There was a long pause before any response came.
¡°I see you on the monitors.¡± It was Gorgon¡¯s voice.
¡°Great! Can I come in?¡±
¡°The building is closed until nine AM tomorrow.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t be like that, Gorgon. I can¡¯t sleep. And you said you don¡¯t sleep much. We can hang out. Like a slumber party without slumber. It¡¯ll probably be the most exciting thing that ever happened at this place.¡±
¡°I am sure your family is worried about you, Alden. Please go home.¡±
¡°And I am sure my only family member is on a spur-of-the-moment roadtrip to California with a cat-food thief. There¡¯s not a single person in the world who will miss me tonight.¡±
The intercom went silent again.
When it came back on, there was a dramatic sigh. ¡°That¡¯s the most depressing thing I¡¯ve heard in months. Fine. Come. But I just mopped the floors. Leave your shoes at the door.¡±
A moment later, there was a beep, and the black metal gate rolled back on its tracks. Alden slipped inside, feeling childishly excited to be doing something a bit illicit in Artonan territory. As he passed by the flagpoles,he saw one of the lobby lights flicker on.
He headed in, and Gorgon met him. The alien was standing less than a foot from the door, his golden bindings trailing through the air behind him like the tendrils of a jellyfish until they disappeared behind the lobby desk.
¡°Shoes,¡± he said, pointing at Alden¡¯s feet like they were on the verge of committing a terrible crime.
¡°Yes, sir!¡± Alden grinned at him and bent to untie his sneakers.
¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, this ¡®slumber party¡¯ will not be the most exciting thing that ever happened to the consulate. I¡¯ve dealt with two attempted bombings and a handful of enraged superhumans over the years.¡±
¡°Oh¡well, I did bring snacks?¡±
Gorgon¡¯s head turned to the cat carrier. ¡°No, thank you.¡±
¡°Not the cat!¡± Alden squawked. ¡°This is Victor! He¡¯s my pet¡more like a roommate, really. Anyway, he¡¯s a party guest not a menu item.¡±
¡°Are the noises he¡¯s making signs of enthusiasm?¡±
¡°Rage,¡± Alden said. ¡°But it¡¯s fine. He¡¯ll be happy once I set him free.¡±
A second passed, and Gorgon didn¡¯t say, Don¡¯t you dare set that beast loose! So Alden unlatched the door to the carrier, and the tomcat rocketed out. He skidded across the freshly mopped terrazzo and pelted under a modern leather armchair near one of the windows.
The alien watched with apparent interest.
¡°Soooo¡what were you going to do for the rest of the night?¡± Alden asked, standing up in his socks to look around the dimly lit lobby. ¡°Anything I can help with?¡±
¡°I was planning to watch the monitors. And read a magazine someone left in the men¡¯s restroom. And sanitize the buttons in the elevator.¡±
¡°All excellent things.¡± Alden frowned. ¡°But I didn¡¯t know you could go inside the elevators. I¡¯ve never seen you leave the lobby.¡±
¡°I can use all of the building¡¯s public areas. But my bindings do not allow living things to pass through them, so it becomes a tripping hazard if I leave the desk when the facility is crowded.¡±
¡°Makes sense. Let¡¯s go ride the elevator up and down and eat junk food.¡±
¡°Why?¡± Gorgon asked.
Alden shrugged. ¡°Why not? I promise not to trip.¡±
#
They wandered the building together, peering into classrooms and occasionally cleaning random things. Gorgon didn¡¯t seem to have much of a method when it came to janitorial work. He just occasionally stopped and sprayed something with sanitizer or glass cleaner and wiped it off.
He did pay unusual attention to the windows, though.
That¡¯s as close as he can get to outside, Alden realized.
¡°Chips and salsa?¡± he asked as they finally made it back down to the lobby. He dug into his grocery bag and passed a pack of blue corn chips and a jar with a jalape?o in sunglasses on it to Gorgon, who took both with a nod.
The lobby had a pretty nice vibe at night. The LEDs were sparkling on the ceiling. A lone cricket was chirping from a pot that held a fiddle-leaf fig tree. And Victor was prowling around one of the seating areas.
Gorgon beelined for the cat and chose the seat nearest it, watching the feline with what Alden guessed might be curiosity as he cracked the lid on the salsa jar.
The cat didn¡¯t seem to mind the alien at all. That was a surprise. If Alden had taken a minute to think about it before he set off on this spontaneous adventure, he would have left Victor at home. It only seemed natural that an animal would be leery of a spiky creature from another dimension.
But Victor just sniffed Gorgon¡¯s ankles and moved on. Alden crouched down toward the cat, and Victor raised his hackles.
¡°He has not forgiven you for confining him,¡± Gorgon said.
¡°Yeah, I know. He¡¯s not used to the carrier.¡± Alden had only stuffed the half-feral cat into the thing once before, to take him to the vet.
He reached into his bag for a can of tuna. ¡°Peace offering?¡± he asked, levering up the metal tab and peeling the top back. ¡°It¡¯s your favorite.¡±
Victor padded a step closer.
¡°See? He¡¯s a pretty forgiving du¡ªOW! Shit! Victor, you brat!¡±
The cat had lunged, quick as lightning, and delivered a combo attack of bites and scratches to Alden¡¯s right hand so fast that he barely felt them before the furry villain streaked away to stand under Gorgon¡¯s chair.
¡°What the heck, man?¡± Alden said in a wounded voice, looking down at his hand. There was a burning claw mark welling with red droplets and at least four puncture wounds bleeding freely. ¡°I bought you the good tuna.¡±
He held the injured hand up, looking around the lobby as if he expected to find a first aid kit lying around.
A weird noise caught his attention, and he whipped back around to watch the cat in case it was planning another attack. But the odd repetitive hissing sound was coming from Gorgon. His body was shaking, thin gray arms wrapped around the chip bag.
For half a second, Alden thought the alien might be going into convulsions, and then he realized¡
¡°Are you laughing at me?¡±
¡°Yes!¡± Gorgon said, between disturbing hisses of merriment. ¡°It was obvious the cat would do that, but you did not know it!¡±
¡°Gorgon, I¡¯m dripping blood on your floor. It¡¯s not funny.¡± But he heard the amusement in his own voice. He¡¯d never seen Gorgon laugh. It looked bizarre, but it was also a relief to know that the alien did have a sense of humor.
Gorgon continued to hiss with joy.
¡°Fine. You guys are too violent for me. I¡¯m going to go wash my hand off in the bathroom.¡±
Drops of blood were running down his wrist now, staining the gray cuff of his sweatshirt. Victor doesn¡¯t do half measures, I guess, Alden thought.
He cupped his other hand beneath the bitten one to catch any overflow and hurried toward the bathroom. When he got there, he reached for the handle of the sink, then froze.
A thought had crossed his mind, but¡
It¡¯d be weird, wouldn¡¯t it? Not funny weird either. Creepy weird.
But maybe it would be less creepy now, when circumstance had given him the opportunity, than it would be at a later date when it would be more premeditated?
Alden turned and elbowed the bathroom door open. Gorgon¡¯s hisses were still echoing across the lobby.
¡°Hey, Gorgon?¡± Alden called. ¡°Um¡don¡¯t let this spoil the mood if it¡¯s really off-base. And remember you promised not to be offended by stuff I offered you. Do you¡want some of my blood? To eat?¡±
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Yeah¡that sounded gross on multiple levels. Like I¡¯m the dumb human in a bad teenage vampire movie.
Gorgon had stopped laughing. Was he offended? Alden couldn¡¯t see him around the corner.
He didn¡¯t say no.
Gorgon only rarely said yes or thank you when he was offered food he found acceptable. Usually, he just took it and ate it. Alden assumed the verbal confirmations were reserved for things he found particularly appealing. But he always said no out loud to reject the non-vegan stuff.
Except for the crickets. In that case, he¡¯d said, ¡°No, but leave them.¡±
¡°You¡¯re not answering,¡± Alden called nervously. ¡°What does that mean?¡±
Gorgon didn¡¯t reply.
No means no. And nothing means he¡¯ll eat it. Right? That¡¯s how it¡¯s always been before. Or maybe he can¡¯t answer because it counts as a question about diet instead of an actual presentation of food, since I¡¯m not where he can see me?
That made sense. One reason the what-can-Gorgon-eat experiment was taking so long was the fact that he had to be offered the actual food item before he could accept or reject it.
Okay then. One bloody hand coming your way. This is for science. Completely normal science.
Gorgon was still sitting where Alden had left him. His knees were drawn up almost protectively around the tortilla chips, and his clawed toes were clenched around the edge of the chair cushion. He looked like a gargoyle.
Alden tried for a casual, everyday sort of stride as he approached. But he was nervous and embarrassed, and he knew he must look it.
¡°Hey, you want some?¡± he asked when he reached the alien. He thrust his hand unceremoniously toward Gorgon.
He waited for him to say, ¡°No.¡± Or, more likely, ¡°Get out.¡±
Instead, Gorgon just stared down at Alden¡¯s bloody hand.
For a long, long time.
Blood spattered against the plastic chip bag, and still, neither of them moved. Alden¡¯s heart started to pound in his ears, beating a rhythm loud enough to compete with the tinnitus that had never gone away.
And then Gorgon did something he¡¯d never once done before.
He tipped his head up, and he met Alden¡¯s eyes.
###
Alden had misunderstood something.
No. That wasn¡¯t it.
He¡¯d misunderstood everything. His entire notion of reality had been insignificant, warped, and just plain wrong.
The Artonans had not imprisoned a creature in the Chicago consulate. They had not chained a person to the lobby desk. And they had not bound something that should ever be called a demon.
Gorgon was something else. Something bigger than that. Something wonderfully and terribly close to sacred.
Looking into his eyes was like being stabbed through the gut by a distillation of every profound moment Alden had ever experienced in his life.
He heard the sound of his mother¡¯s heartbeat in the womb, felt the cool emptiness of the wood as he placed a daisy on top of his father¡¯s casket,recalled in glaring detail the first sunrise he¡¯d ever paused to observe.
And those were only the impressions that would stick with him when it was over.In the moment, they came at him simultaneously with a thousand others, and he lost all sense of his present reality.
When he came to, hours later, he was lying in textbook-perfect recovery position on the cold floor. His hand was bandaged with a paper napkin and a generous amount of clear packaging tape. And his cat was calmly eating a can of tuna three inches away from his nose.
Alden groaned and sat up. Physically he felt fine. Mentally, he felt like his brain had been unspooled.
He looked around the lobby cautiously. The sun wasn¡¯t up yet, but the sky had begun to pale. Gorgon was at the desk, chin resting on his knuckles as he stared at the security monitors.
Alden approached him cautiously, keeping his own eyes averted just in case.
¡°Gorgon¡¡± he said, too overwhelmed to be ashamed of what he was about to say, ¡°¡are you some kind of a god?¡±
¡°No,¡± Gorgon said simply.
Of course not. What kind of a god would get trapped in a lobby?
¡°Right. I was just¡checking. Because that thing with your eyes¡that was¡kind of¡intense?¡±
¡°Do you feel all right?¡± Gorgon asked, peering at the half-empty salsa jar beside his stapler.
Alden hesitated. ¡°I do. But what just happened? What was that?¡±
¡°It saddens me that I am prevented from explaining it to you, Alden.¡± Gorgon lifted an arm to show off his magic manacle.
¡°Well, did you taste some of my blood at least?¡± Alden tried for a jocular tone and fell short. ¡°I feel like a missed something.¡±
¡°I haven¡¯t. It wouldn¡¯t have been right under the circumstances.¡±
Alden looked down at his bandaged hand nervously. ¡°Should I offer it to you again?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing, child.¡±
Given the situation, Alden couldn¡¯t even object to being called a kid. ¡°Yeah, I get that I don¡¯t. I really get that I don¡¯t.¡±
¡°But you¡¯re still offering?¡±
¡°Well, I trust that you¡¯re not going to go all Dracula on me. We¡¯re friends. Aren¡¯t we?¡±
Gorgon muttered something under his breath. Then, out loud, he said, ¡°I¡¯m not sure two people can be friends when one of them is incapable of presenting themselves as they truly are and the other is incapable of grasping it.¡±
Alden raised an eyebrow. ¡°I feel like there was an insult buried in there.¡±
¡°Only a factual statement. We are not friends. But I am fond of you and wish you well. If I accept your offering, there will be side effects.¡±
¡°Bad ones or good ones?¡±
Gorgon made a sharp clicking sound in the back of his throat.
Frustration maybe? It seemed like he couldn¡¯t say much else.
Alden thought about it. And what it boiled down to was that he trusted Gorgon. More than ever after¡whatever that was.
There had always been a wriggling worm of doubt in Alden¡¯s mind about the alien. He was chained up for what the internet said was attempted murder after all. Even if Alden liked him and enjoyed his company, a tiny piece of his better judgment had advised caution.
That piece was gone. It had been completely obliterated by the experience of meeting Gorgon¡¯s gaze. And though that fact alone should have raised fresh alarm bells, it didn¡¯t.
Whatever Gorgon was, his presence felt fundamentally benevolent. Which was really, really unexpected. Because now that Alden thought about it, he couldn¡¯t recall a single other person he¡¯d ever encountered in his life who¡¯d given off that particular vibe.
¡°I trust you,¡± Alden said. ¡°You can have some of my blood. If that¡¯s something you want to do, I mean.¡±
He flopped his taped-up hand onto the desk.
¡°No need,¡± Gorgon said lightly. He gestured toward the jar of salsa. ¡°I put a few drops in here before I wrapped your hand just in case you were quite sure about the offering.¡±
¡°You made blood gazpacho,¡± Alden said. ¡°That¡¯s not at all unsettling. And yeah. I¡¯m sure.¡±
Gorgon looked up at him, and Alden took an involuntary step back, bracing for impact. But nothing happened this time. He found himself staring at his own reflection in the alien¡¯s liquid black eyes.
¡°I see. You are sure. How¡dear of you.¡±
Then, without any further explanation, he opened the jar of salsa and took a sip.
Alden held his breath and clenched his fists. He expected angelic choirs or an explosion of light or a full Artonan military bombardment or something.
But nothing happened at all.
¡°What¡?¡± No point in asking serious questions. He won¡¯t be able to tell you. ¡°What¡¯s it taste like?¡±
¡°Like salsa,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°I didn¡¯t slit your jugular and pour it in. It¡¯s just a couple of drops.¡±
Alden kept waiting. He wasn¡¯t sure for what. Maybe part of him still expected Gorgon to explain what was going on even though the alien had just said he couldn¡¯t.
Finally, he snapped out of it.
¡°So, what do we do now?¡±
¡°You should go home and sleep for a couple of hours. Then, you should come back for your classes later today.¡±
¡°That¡¯s it?¡±
Gorgon paused. He licked his lips lightly and tipped his head from side to side a few times. ¡°Hmmm..you should come by again this evening. We can talk about your plans.¡±
¡°What plans?¡±
Gorgon looked down into the salsa. ¡°You told me once you had specific dreams for your future in the event that you were chosen by the System. I would like to hear them.¡±
¡°Oh. Okay.¡± Alden scratched the back of his head. ¡°You know, if you enjoyed the slumber party and want to do it again you don¡¯t have to make an excuse.¡±
¡°I wish I could roll my eyes as humans do,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°It¡¯s a beautifully emotive gesture.¡±
Alden snorted.
Their conversation ended there, and he packed up his things to leave. Getting Victor back into the cat carrier was an aerobic experience for both of them. Alden almost lost a finger.
He tossed the empty tuna can into the garbage and headed for the door. ¡°See you again in a few hours, Gorgon. And I guess we¡¯ll talk tonight?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°Cool.¡±
Alden¡¯s hand was on the door handle when Gorgon suddenly said, ¡°Seventy percent.¡±
Alden glanced back. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±
¡°I said your chances of being chosen by the System were less than one in a thousand. I have revised my estimate. Your friend was right; there is around a seventy percent chance that you will be selected by the contract.¡±
TEN: Side Effects
The shock took a while to hit.
Probably because Alden was already processing a lot at the moment. Hannah¡¯s funeral was coming up. Gorgon¡¯s eyeballs had the power to make you recall in perfect clarity your time in the womb. He¡¯d given the alien his own blood to drink, and he thought, upon reflection, that it might have been part of some kind of magic ritual and not just snack time.
All typical stuff.
Anyway, when an extra-dimensional being told him out of the blue that he had a seventy percent chance of becoming a superhero, Alden Thorn said, ¡°Oh. That¡¯s interesting. Thanks for letting me know.¡±
As if his strange not-friend had just given him the weather forecast.
Then, he left the consulate and fought his way back home with Victor yowling and screeching inside his cat crate.
Sundays weren¡¯t as busy as Saturdays, but he still had a mid-day class to prep for. Jeremy and Boe were having a platypus-themed meme battle in their group chat that morning, so his phone kept pinging him.
And he needed to call and pay the electric bill.
Good thing I¡¯ve got Aunt Connie¡¯s current credit card numbers memorized.
All in all, he was just too busy to have a freakout over one more thing. At least at first.
When he finally got the cat settled and removed all the packaging tape from his bitten hand, he headed into the kitchen for breakfast. As he was reaching into the fridge for orange juice, his phone rang.
He answered it.
¡°Hey, you wanna grab a late breakfast at the diner?¡± Jeremy asked before Alden could even say hello. ¡°Boe says he¡¯s eating a box of Lucky Charms and watching anime, but if you say you¡¯re going, he¡¯ll feel left out and change his mind.¡±
Alden considered it. Hot breakfast sounded good, but¡
¡°I¡¯m pretty low on funds, and my aunt bailed for the week. I should probably cut back until she comes home.¡±
He¡¯d already spent pretty much all of the cash he¡¯d saved over the summer on food for himself, Gorgon, and the cat. Until he turned eighteen or was emancipated, Alden¡¯s inheritance was only accessible for education expenses. And with the weekend classes, he hadn¡¯t been taking odd jobs from the neighbors to earn pocket money.
¡°I¡¯ll buy, man,¡± Jeremy said easily. ¡°You can pay me back later. Or not. It¡¯s all good.¡±
Alden considered it. Jeremy¡¯s parents were both lawyers. They literally left cash lying around the house for their son to use if he wanted.
¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll take you up on that. Thanks.¡± He checked the microwave clock. ¡°See you at ten?¡±
He had just enough time to trash the tiger shorts and shove a load of his own clothes into the washer before he headed out the door again.
He met his friends in front of a diner in Jeremy¡¯s neighborhood. Boe was watching the tail end of a cartoon on his phone while Jeremy peered over his shoulder.
¡°Awesome! You¡¯re here!¡± Jeremy said brightly when he spotted Alden. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯m gonna order steak and eggs and enough bacon to kill me.¡±
¡°Your goals are admirable,¡± said Boe.
¡°Throw in some hash-browns, and you¡¯ve just described my dream breakfast,¡± Alden agreed.
The bell over the door tinkled when they entered. It was very much a local joint. Lots of old folks were there for the senior discount, and there were a pair of televisions in opposite corners playing a news station on low volume.
The place smelled like grease, but in a good way.
The three of them slid into a vinyl booth and took their menus. Alden¡¯s was sticky with the syrupy fingerprints of whoever had held it last.
The diner was one of those places that would let you order the whole menu no matter what time of day it was, so Boe inevitably spent ten minutes trying to decide what he wanted to eat. While his friends debated the merits of cheeseburgers vs Western omelets, Alden ordered a hot chocolate.
It came as a mug of steaming water and a pouch of dried mix, and he stirred it up while he stared at the closed captions scrolling acrossthe bottom of the TV opposite him.
¡°Someone in Naperville just became a C-rank Shaper,¡± he said, watching the dimpled brunette girl onscreen.
She wasn¡¯t nervous at all. She was beaming as she chatted with the interviewer. Her large hoop earrings swung back and forth as she gestured animatedly.
¡°That¡¯s a mediocre rank.¡± Boe glanced at the television. ¡°Not superhero level, but with Shaper classes, they sometimes still get lucky enough with skills to do something interesting. What¡¯s her starting element?¡±
¡°Object. Sounds like she wants to go deep into it, too, instead of trying to branch out with new skills.¡±
The elements Worldshapers used were defined by the System in a way that didn¡¯t match well with human logic. The usual ones were ground, sky, life, water, and object. Though sometimes someone got a super specific curveball or just Shaping in general with no specialty.
Object Shapers could move and morph objects, and generally the more crafted the thing was, the easier they could play with it. Couldn¡¯t do a thing with a rock freshly pulled from the earth, but if it had been cut into a gemstone they could at least start to impact it with their power. They could do amazing things with higher tech stuff, though. One of Alden¡¯s favorite Object Shapers was a hero whose schtick was turning cars into ¡°robots¡± that were really just glorified person-shaped battering rams he operated telekinetically. It was pretty obvious the guy wished he¡¯d been given the Machine Wright class instead.
¡°That¡¯s flexible at least,¡± Boe said, still looking at the girl on screen. ¡°Maybe when she¡¯s finished training, the city will hire her for some kind of hometown hero PR, and she can replace Sharon.¡±
Jeremy groaned. ¡°No. Not this again.¡±
Boe pointed at him with a half-unwrapped drinking straw. ¡°You can¡¯t just force people to do the first-name-only thing! If you¡¯re Elvis, you¡¯re Elvis. If you¡¯re Michelangelo, you¡¯re Michelangelo. You make an impact. People notice. Then, you become a mononym. You don¡¯t just wake up one day and tell people you¡¯re soooo important that you don¡¯t need a surname anymore. Anyone who tries to make it happen on their own, especially when their name is as basic as Sharon, deserves to be punished for criminal narcissism!¡±
¡°I don¡¯t disagree,¡± said Alden, scooting over in the booth so that his friend didn¡¯t stab him with the waving straw. ¡°But I think you¡¯re probably a little too passionate about this one, Boe.¡±
He brought his mug to his lips. He was anticipating a warm sip of overly sweetened generic brand chocolate, but instead his hand clenched in an involuntary death grip around the mug¡¯s handle. The hot ceramic burned against his lips, and his eyes widened in alarm.
Alden felt like he¡¯d just run face first into a giant flashing STOP sign.
I can¡¯t drink this, he thought adamantly, setting the mug down so hard that he slopped some of the cocoa on the table. The cow didn¡¯t give it to me.
¡°What the hell?¡± Alden breathed.
Was that thought even mine? It felt like it was, but how could that be true?
The cow didn¡¯t give it to me? He¡¯d never had a concern like that in his life!
¡°Right?!¡± Boe said. ¡°It would be slightly forgivable if her name was unique. But there are thousands of Sharons out there! She can¡¯t just do them dirty that way!¡±
Alden laughed hysterically.
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Boe didn¡¯t notice, but Jeremy gave him a confused look.
Alden waved him off and stared into the depths of his hot chocolate. He flipped the crumpled packet over and read the back. It had powdered milk in it. No surprise there.
He tried to drink it again. It smelled good. He wasn¡¯t grossed out by it or anything. In fact, he wanted it. He was thirsty. He craved sugar.
But there was some kind of mental wall between him and the act of drinking the chocolate. It wasn¡¯t even like he had a sudden moral problem with it. He wasn¡¯t upset that Boe was sitting beside him with an iced coffee that was at least a third cream.
But in his own mind the wall stood there, solid and free of any kind of emotion. Like an incontrovertible fact of his existence.
Alden could not drink this. The cow hadn¡¯t offered it to him.
What is this? he thought, beginning to panic. This is insane.
¡°Jeremy, give me your soda!¡± he said desperately.
¡°What? No. Get your own.¡±
Alden snatched it and took a gulp so fast he almost choked on the bubbles.
¡°Okayyyy then,¡± said Jeremy, staring at him like he¡¯d¡.well, like he¡¯d suddenly stolen his friend¡¯s drink for no reason. ¡°I guess I can get another one?¡±
Alden felt relief, but only a smidge of it. He could still drink. He wasn¡¯t going to thirst to death. But what the hell was this?
¡°Alden, are you having some kind of a breakdown?¡±
Alden shook his head. What was he supposed to say? That he had apparently caught a dietary restriction from Gorgon?
Why would that be a thing on any planet? In any universe? And Alden hadn¡¯t drunk the alien¡¯s blood! It was the other way around. How could he have picked up contagious¡whatever this was¡from that?!
And what about cheese? he thought frantically. I love cheese. And Italian beef. And pizza. Side effects, my ass! This is the worst.
He stared at the sticky diner menu on the table in front of him with rising dread. He¡¯d been planning to order hash browns and a cheddar scramble, but unless some noble chicken had laid eggs while¡what? hoping that Alden, specifically, would eat them?¡he was out of luck.
Maybe it¡¯s temporary? He tried to trick himself into thinking it might be, and it worked surprisingly well. Yeah. I can put up with it for a few days until it fades. No sweat. No reason to act like a lunatic in front of my friends.
¡°I¡¯ll have the oatmeal,¡± he said to the waitress when she came back around. ¡°No butter. Lots of brown sugar. And a side order of berries.¡±
Even the hash browns here were fried in delicious, delicious bacon fat. So oatmeal was the best he could do.
His friends were staring at him.
He cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯m on a cleanse,¡± he said in a righteous voice.
¡°Okay,¡±said Jeremy, looking nonplussed.
¡°What organ are you trying to cleanse with lots of sugar?¡± Boe scoffed.
¡°Hey, I have my reasons!¡±
Fortunately, their food came quickly, and his friends were distracted by their own plates. Alden gave himself a mental pep talk while he spooned oatmeal into his mouth. It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m a growing boy. I need fiber. And maybe there¡¯s a good side effect to counterbalance the bad side effect.
It had to work that way, right? You couldn¡¯t just destroy someone¡¯s future as a major consumer of sausage deep dish without giving them something equal in return.
Not like I can ask Gorgon. He can¡¯t tell me anything¡I¡¯d better not grow a spiky horn choker.
He dug his spoon into his overly-sugared breakfast goop again and paused as he remembered.
Oh, yeah. He couldn¡¯t tell me about side effects from the blood thing, but he did say I had a seventy percent chance of being chosen by the System. How would he even know that? Could he taste it or something?
Then, he frowned as a new realization hit him.
Never mind how he knows. Seventy percent is¡it¡¯s really high.
He looked up to the TV, where the C-ranked Shaper was waving goodbye to the camera as her interview ended
Seventy percent meant it wasn¡¯t just a possibility he might get powers of his own one day. It meant it was likely.
What am I supposed to do with that information?
He felt a growing¡not excitement, exactly. It was more like nervous energy.
Oatmeal and diet quandaries suddenly forgotten, his thoughts turned to facts about superpower acquisition. Almost everyone was chosen between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. Outliers happened, but not often. Alden was a month and a half away from his sixteenth birthday.
Sixteen is the most common.
Something like seventy percent of superhumans received their access to the System after their sixteenth birthday and before their seventeenth. S-ranks and A-ranks were disproportionately chosen at fifteen. D¡¯s and F¡¯s were disproportionately chosen at seventeen.
I¡¯ll most likely be chosen sometime in the next fourteen months if Gorgon¡¯s right.
The sweet spot for being an S-rank is already past. The best I should reasonably hope for is A. And that¡¯s still a long shot. D and F mean you spend your life on the island or in an Avowed zone, just chilling with a really restrictive passport keeping you from traveling as much as you want. B and C are¡super class dependent. C-Brute is meh. C-Meister might still be okay if it¡¯s in the right specialty area.
He wanted to make contingency plans for every possibility, but that would take him a while.
If Alden could make a shopping list for exactly the powers he wanted, he knew what he¡¯d choose. But that was the thing about having a dream that only had a distant possibility of coming true¡ªyou could just let your imagination run wild.
He¡¯d want to be an S-rank. Who wouldn¡¯t? And he would prefer to be an Adjuster of some kind. It was a spell-heavy class that you could customize easily. His second choice would be the Meister class, though that one was more iffy. Meisters were powerful, but they had a lot less flexibility than Adjusters. There was almost no wiggle room for them when it came to skill selection. So becoming something like a Sword Meister would be awful for Alden¡¯s goals, while becoming a Trap Meister would be fantastic.
None of the other classes would really work. An S-rank Brute was a titan, but they didn¡¯t get access to many spells, and their skills were usually pretty tightly focused. So they lacked versatility.
Alden would need that in spades for what he wanted to do.
He wanted to be a sidekick. Not an old-school, dies-as-soon-as-you-look-at-them sidekick. The contemporary version that was uncommon and unpopular but incredibly special when someone managed to make it work.
True battlefield support. Like Hannah.
Battlefield supports were superheroes who were strong enough to look after themselves in a fight but who focused on skills and spells that would do all the things that most heroes sucked at. They might have crowd control, structural damage mitigation, barriers, buffs, or dozens of other useful skills that made the thing other heroes did better. A great battlefield support was a hero who made it possible for the people they worked with to lay waste to a villain without demolishing a city.
It was really interesting stuff. And it was important.
If Hannah had been the support she dreamed of being, the one she was working to be, Alden¡¯s parents probably wouldn¡¯t have died.
She just¡hadn¡¯t made it there yet.
And now she never will.
Right. Back to reality. He¡¯d agreed to go to the funeral. He¡¯d probably be hearing from Cly Zhao any day about the portal.
Alden sighed and looked down at his barely-touched oatmeal. ¡°Boe, can I borrow one of your ties next week?¡±
¡°Yeah, of course.¡± Boe spoke around a mouthful of omelet. ¡°You¡¯re going, then? I wondered why you were acting weird today. That¡¯s good.¡±
¡°I have ties!¡± Jeremy said quickly. ¡°You can borrow any of them.¡±
Alden shook his head. Jeremy¡¯s taste in clothes leaned toward the creative. ¡°I only need one. And I don¡¯t think a tie with chocolate chip cookies on it really says, ¡®funeral.¡¯ But thanks anyway.¡±
ELEVEN: Last and Least
¡°Look at what you¡¯ve done to me,¡± Alden said pitifully.
It was evening, he was sitting in the cricket-filled lobby with Gorgon again, and he was picking chunks of tofu and pieces of lettuce out of a naan wrap that had been incorrectly labeled vegan at a food truck he¡¯d passed on the way over.
¡°Do you know why the bread at that place tastes fabulous? It¡¯s because it¡¯s grilled in butter. Do you know how I know that? It¡¯s because my brain now has an anti-joy narc living in it.¡±
¡°How long do you think you will complain about this particular topic?¡± the alien asked, licking coconut curry sauce from his own fingers.
¡°How long is the narc going to be in residence?¡±
Gorgon shrugged.
Alden eyed him suspiciously. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna grow horns, am I?¡±
¡°Perhaps if you try very hard.¡±
¡°Ha ha. You¡¯re a comedian now.¡±
¡°You were telling me about your ambitions for your future,¡± Gorgon reminded him. ¡°If you don¡¯t plan to continue, you can ride up and down the elevators again. Preferably in silence.¡±
Alden slumped against the cushions of the sofa he¡¯d chosen for himself tonight. ¡°So you¡¯re a bossy alien now that you¡¯ve drunk my blood? That¡¯s just my luck.¡±
But Gorgon had a point. Alden had been whining for a while.
He sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve pretty much told you everything, though. Hannah was a big influence. What happened to my parents was, too. I think battlefield support is a seriously important and underrated job. Plus it¡¯s cool. As for more specific ambitions¡I¡¯d love to be a frost-focused Adjuster or a trap Meister or maybe something that was heavy on the buff abilities. But it¡¯s all just idle wishes. Even if the System does choose me, it¡¯s not like I can pick exactly the class I want.¡±
¡°The pre-affixation trade is always an option,¡± Gorgon said. ¡°No doubt it will be a necessary one in your case, since you seem to have an uncommon vision for yourself. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve realized that most classes lean strongly toward improving an individual¡¯s personal offense or defense. Classes that do otherwise tend to be ill-suited to spontaneous combat.¡±
Alden felt his eyebrows lift. When the System called you, there was a grace period of around three months before you had to accept your class. During that window, a selectee could trade classes with another willing person of equal rank who was still in their own grace period. It was the only time class trades were allowed.
¡°That¡¯s all true,¡± he said, popping a cube of tofu into his mouth, ¡°but nobody trades good classes, do they? Isn¡¯t it just a bunch of unhappy people swapping the garbage classes around? That¡¯s what the internet says anyway.¡±
Gorgon made a humming sound. ¡°A reasonable percentage of new Avowed make trades. It¡¯s skewed heavily toward the lower ranks, of course, but it¡¯s not rare.¡±
¡°Wait. You can tell me stuff like that?¡±
Gorgon shrugged again. ¡°People who want to trade must do so with an approved witness at hand. I¡¯m the witness for this region. It¡¯s my job to tell selectees this kind of thing.¡±
¡°Oh. But no specific class advice?¡±
¡°None beyond what should already be abundantly obvious.¡±
Alden grimaced. ¡°What do the Avowed need a witness for anyway? What do you witness exactly?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a safety measure to confirm that someone who agrees to a class trade isn¡¯t suffering from undue outside influence. Many selectees have superhuman parents with strong opinions about their offsprings¡¯ class choice. Sometimes they attempt to manipulate the situation.¡±
¡°You mean the parents of island-born supers? Their kid gets a class they don¡¯t like, and they¡what? Threaten or mind sway someone into trading with them?¡±
¡°They attempt to. Sometimes. It¡¯s not the norm, but it happens.¡±
Alden didn¡¯t doubt Gorgon, but he was surprised. He¡¯d never heard so much as a whisper about something like that. You¡¯d think it would be all over the place if heroes got caught bullying teenagers into giving up their powers for worse ones.
¡°What¡¯s the most traded class? Can you tell me that?¡±
¡°It¡¯s Brute. Obviously.¡±
¡°Oh, yeah. That is obvious. Sorry. Numbers matter.¡± Roughly thirty percent of those chosen by the System were a Brute type, which was a much higher percentage than any other class. Of course it would also be the most traded one.
¡°Of the Brute classes, longsights seem to be the least popular variety. They are often offered up for trade and rarely accepted,¡± Gorgon added.
¡°Well, yeah. Having a superpower that lets you see really far away isn¡¯t very special. Binoculars exist.¡±
Gorgon made the clicking sound Alden had decided meant he wanted to say something but couldn¡¯t. He waited for a minute, but the alien didn¡¯t offer up any further comments on the subject.
Alden considered the different classes. Only an idiot would trade Healer of Body, and a person would have to be an absolute moron to trade the super rare Healer of Mind. Even Alden would shift all his future plans in a heartbeat if those were offered.
Sure, you were no good in a fight. But you could still help loads of people, and the class perks were the best.
Any healer above D-rank automatically received a passive that reduced the mental and physical effects of stress and a blessing called Twice Life. Which was exactly what it sounded like¡
A doubled lifespan.
Combined with the fact that you could fix any normal disease that might want to take you out, it was a first class ticket to living for an extra century. And at the highest ranks it was even better. There was an S-rank Healer of Body on the island who¡¯d been chosen in the first year the System went into effect; she was nearly eighty, and she still looked sixteen.
So yeah. Nobody was going to put that class up for trade.
¡°Hannah said once that almost none of the people who grew up on Anesidora would take the Sway class if they could help it. She had a friend who wanted to trade hers when she got it, but it was S-rank and there was no one willing to trade for it at that level during her pre-affixation period.¡±
Gorgon nodded. ¡°That¡¯s true. Sway is the class that is the most frequently successfully traded. Almost always from the children of Avowed to those who are not as intimately familiar with the class¡¯s drawbacks.¡±
Alden understood how that could happen. Being a mind controller sounded really impressive until you realized that you would get great power in exchange for life as a social pariah and near-prisoner on the island. Someone who didn¡¯t have that realization in time would get suckered into it.
¡°Do people ever trade Adjuster?¡±
¡°Yes. But not often. The class is so flexible that it can be built in ways that would satisfy all but the pickiest user.¡±
¡°What about unique classes?¡±
¡°Ah,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°Those¡are different. They can¡¯t be traded.¡±
¡°Really?¡±
¡°They¡¯re automatically affixed. No grace period.¡±
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¡°Seriously? Why?¡±
Gorgon shook his head.
Alden sighed. ¡°Whoever bound you with such overkill restrictions should be kicked in the ¡¯nads.¡±
¡°That would be impossible for a number of reasons,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°But I appreciate the sentiment.¡±
###
Hours later, after Alden had fallen asleep with one leg and an arm hanging off the side of the sofa, Gorgon turned out the last of the lobby lights.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness in an instant, and he watched the boy silently. Human adolescence was such a foolish, vulnerable phase of existence¡ªan extended period of childish expectations warring against adult realities.
It was beautiful and stupid, like so many other aspects of life on Earth.
Gorgon hoped his actions hadn¡¯t ruined whatever the boy had left of his own beautiful, stupid youth.
You have chosen at long last, a voice from the distant past whispered in his mind.
I have not chosen, Gorgon replied tiredly in his own language. I have only done what little I can in a world where there are no choices left to me.
The voice was the echo of someone who had never even imagined such a world, so it had no way of answering him with useful advice or words of comfort. But he found himself hoping for some anyway.
Teach him well, the echo said sagely.
Gorgon sighed¡ªa human habit he enjoyed mimicking on occasion¡ªand rubbed at his manacles. He¡¯d been pushing at the limits of his bindings in more ways than Alden knew, and they¡¯d burned more in the past couple of weeks than they had in decades.
I can¡¯t teach him at all. And if I could, he couldn¡¯t use my teachings. Our ways have disappeared, and there¡¯s no point in passing them on to a human. His world has its own problems. Those will be his to face. Our world¡¯s troubles will be¡no one¡¯s.
Here, too, was something the echo could not comprehend. That the whole of the universe it had known might pass from existence, that Gorgon might be utterly and truly alone, that a successor¡¯s purpose could be his own and not The Purpose that had been the very center of every other chosen one¡¯s life.
Now is the time to be fearless and accept the blessing of the Devouring with humility, as your predecessors did before you.
¡°No,¡± Gorgon whispered into the quiet lobby. ¡°No. I won¡¯t be doing that. I¡¯m sorry to disappoint you, my teacher. I am full of fear and unwilling to end. Not yet. Not until my work is finished.¡±
Our work is done when our successors are chosen, the echo said. So it has always been.
My work now is different than any you¡¯ve known before, Gorgon replied. My current work is revenge.
I have not heard of this work.
Perhaps it was only Gorgon¡¯s imagination but the echo sounded concerned.
I know, my teacher. Don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s not so far away from purging an infection or correcting an imbalance. It¡¯s just taking me a long time.
If the price has been paid, the work must be completed. The echo sounded more confident now. No matter how long it takes.
¡°Oh, the price was paid,¡± Gorgon muttered. ¡°It was paid and paid again, by those who could not refuse to pay it.¡±
Beyond the cold glass, the sun was rising. It was a breathtaking sight on this planet. Such a near, warm star.
¡°How you would weep to see me here,¡± he whispered. ¡°The last and least of us, chained up in a foreign paradise while our home lies dead beyond the gates of space and time.¡±
The echo had no response to that, which was something of a relief.
Gorgon headed back to his computer and clicked away from the security feed. His custom System access sigil was right in the center of the desktop, like always.
He clicked it, and lines of teeth-grindingly familiar text appeared on the screen.
[HONORABLE GUEST #231, NAME UNKNOWN, would you like to accept a Contract of Service in exchange for great power, future opportunity, and significant personal freedom?]
¡°No,¡± Gorgon said.
He liked to pretend that not cursing at his captors every time he was asked this question would bother them more in the long run.
[HONORABLE GUEST #231, thank you for your consideration.]
[Logging you in as PRISONER #12005794 ¡ª PREFERRED ID: GORGON]
[How may I assist you in the completion of your duties today, Gorgon?]
¡°Access all current pre-affixation trade requests.¡±
[ACCESS GRANTED.]
Gorgon scrolled down the familiar list with a great deal more interest than usual.
A lot of it was the normal dross. The boy was right, to an extent. Even foolish teenagers rarely traded the obviously superior class assignments. But after decades of use, humans had barely scratched the surface of the System. They had such a poor understanding of all but the most simple classes.
Gorgon knew, though he couldn¡¯t explain it clearly to the boy, that there was no such thing as a weak class. Situationally weak, yes. Longsights really were useless¡for the first few years. On Earth.
But the System was designed from the ground up to create a theoretically balanced power trade between the Avowed and the Artonans who would summon them for various ¡°quests.¡± The trick was in knowing how to use a class properly to take advantage of that.
Of course, the Artonans preferred not to help Earth along on that front. All the better for them to technically gift other planets every bit of the power they promised while offering meager or misleading instructions when it came to its usage. It kept the lower species in line.
Gorgon¡¯s nostrils flared as he stared at the list in front of him.
Even he didn¡¯t have a perfect understanding of what all the various classes did. But the battlefield support role the boy desired should be manageable with a trade into¡
Yes, there it was!
And¡it was gone just as quickly.
Ah. Frustrating.
The class Gorgon had in mind was seen as an extremely undesirable one for those who dreamed of being superheroes, and at the same time, it was a class certain other people longed for. In fact, some newly chosen Avowed waited through their entire grace periods trying to acquire it.
And it wasn¡¯t common. Less than two percent last time he¡¯d checked.
So it popped up at random intervals and was snapped up just as quickly. Much like the Sway class.
How was he supposed to point the boy toward it in the event that it became necessary? He couldn¡¯t just tell him to choose it. Or maybe he could, but he wasn¡¯t willing to pay the price for doing so. He liked Alden, but not enough to die for him.
The magic that bound him worked on a very clever spell framework that had a limited ability to read his true intentions. So it was more flexible than it might have been, but it was also better able to identify infractions on his part.
Well, he had nothing better to do with his time right now. He would work on the problem.
Scheming was as good a cure for boredom as any other.
TWELVE: One Oclock on a Thursday
It was supposed to happen differently.
It definitely would have if Alden¡¯s life were an action movie¡or even a comedy. If the universe were a writer, there would have been some dramatic build-up. Some tension that needed breaking. Maybe even a small disaster that could only be overcome by the deus popping out of the machina.
But it didn¡¯t go like that.
Instead, it was one o¡¯clock on a Thursday. And Alden had just bombed a quiz on Hamlet because he¡¯d somehow failed to see a reading assignment that had, apparently, been posted on the board all week.
It was out of character for him.
Hannah¡¯s funeral was in two days, and while he was a long way from bursting into tears at random intervals like he had in the months after his parents were killed, he was having a pretty hard time focusing his attention on the everyday stuff.
His AP Literature teacher looked like she wanted to have a worried conversation with him, so he made a quick excuse, grabbed his bag, and dashed across the hall to the bathroom. There, while he stared at some of his schoolmates¡¯ artistic graffiti and did what people do in bathrooms, he suddenly felt a jolt.
It was a brief, painless full-body spasm. Like a hypnic jerk.
Startled, he grabbed onto the cracked plastic top of the toilet paper dispenser with a steadying hand. But the physical sensation was already over.
An instant later, a voice spoke quietly in his ears.
¡°Hello, Alden,¡± said the System. ¡°In 1963, the peoples of Earth accepted an infusion of magic and technology, as well as a promise of future protection, as part of an agreement with the Artonan Triplanetary Government. In doing so, Earth became an Artonan resource world, with all the accompanying rights, privileges, and responsibilities afforded by that designation.¡±
Oh, Alden thought. Maybe it was because of his surroundings, or maybe it was because he¡¯d been forewarned. But he felt less afraid than he would have expected. This is THE speech. It¡¯s really happening to me.
For some reason, the System almost always delivered the selection speech out loud this way. Not with the visual interfaces it seemed to prefer for most communication. The working theory was that it was analyzing you and making tweaks to your mind or soul based on your reactions to what it said, before it fully completed its merge.
¡°As part of this alliance,¡± the System continued in a volume that was barely above a murmur, ¡°Earth is required to deliver a number of suitable individuals into contractual servitude. You have been selected for this honor. You may refuse to sign your planet¡¯s version of the Interdimensional Warriors Contract out of personal principle, and your objection will be taken into consideration hereafter. Ultimately, however, you may not refuse to serve.¡±
I didn¡¯t expect it to happen like this. Today. Now. Here.
A mote of mixed emotion, equal parts excitement and anxiety, made Alden grip the toilet paper dispenser a little tighter. He stared at a marker drawing of an oddly-shaped cactus that had definitely started its life as something less innocent before it was repaired by a more tasteful artist.
The System went on. ¡°Upon signing, you will become one of your planet¡¯s Avowed. As a signing bonus, you will receive an additional gift. Refusal to sign will result in the loss of this bonus.¡±
Right. Carrot and stick together.
¡°Upon becoming one of the Avowed, you will be subject to summons, for emergency and non-emergency purposes, by members of the Artonan wizarding classes. By Artonan law, all Avowed are justly rewarded for any service rendered."
¡°Your rank has been determined. Your class has been randomly assigned based on the Triplanetary Government¡¯s current requests. You have ninety Earth days to sign the Contract of your own free will. During that time, you may trade your class with equivalently ranked selectees from your own planet. Once affixed, your class assignment is immutable.¡±
For some reason, Alden found himself whispering the final few words along with the System.
¡°Welcome, Alden. And thank you for your future service.¡±
There were only a couple of heartbeats between the end of the speech and the moment when the System window suddenly appeared in front of Alden¡¯s wide eyes. But a couple of heartbeats were enough for an entire cascade of thoughts, hopes, worries, and wonderings to pass through his brain.
This was it. Right here and now. His life was taking a sharp turn in some new direction and he had almost no control over it at all.
A single point of dark golden light appeared at the center of his vision, and then it bloomed rapidly to overlay everything else. Breathing hard, Alden stared into his own future.
[Pre-affixed Selectee: Samuel Alden Thorn
Divergence Rank: B
Assigned Class: Meister of Cudgel]
¡
[Samuel Alden Thorn, do you willingly accept your duties as one of Earth¡¯s Avowed, thereby satisfying a portion of your world''s debt to the Triplanets?]
YES/NO
2159 h: 59 m: 34 s
Alden read it all. Then, he read it again. His brain must have short-circuited at some point, because he had to keep reading it before the simple words finally held some meaning.
He watched the timer tick down and down, until the sound of someone peeing in the stall beside him made reality reassert itself.
B-rank. Meister of Cudgel. Okay. Now...what? How do I even turn this thing off? Alden wondered, staring at the words superimposed over his vision. Interested as he was in heroes, he¡¯d never actually hit the level of obsession where one studied the layout of the System¡¯s display.
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He knew verbal commands were a thing. But the bell had just rung, and the bathroom was filling with people. He didn¡¯t want to be overheard trying out different versions of, ¡°System, switch to invisible mode.¡±
It would cause an uproar.
He tried a mental command, and when that didn¡¯t work, he looked for a button. He expected to find something like an X in one corner of the imaginary ¡°screen,¡± so it took him a long while to realize that what he needed was a swiping gesture.
An open-palmed one.
Less cell phone, more window washer.
That¡¯s about as subtle as a punch to the jaw, he thought as he finally managed to make it disappear.
He frowned at the empty place where the display had been. He felt¡really human. Because he was. He hadn¡¯t clicked YES. So his new powers hadn¡¯t been affixed.
I guess I¡¯ll go to my next class?
It seemed like what he should do. He had ninety days. There was no need to rush into things. No need to panic.
But as he stepped out of the restroom into the crowded hallway, Alden felt an odd sense of distance from everyone around him. He had ninety days.
Only ninety days.
And then he would probably never see any of these people again.
I should tell Jeremy and Boe. After I¡¯ve thought it through. Soon.
He went to his locker and picked up the books for his next period. It was biology. There was an exam tomorrow.
If I fail, it means nothing.
The thought tumbled through his mind like a boulder, knocking pillars out of alignment as it went. Alden had always cared about his grades. Because they served a purpose. Only¡now they didn¡¯t.
Don¡¯t they only take D and F-ranks at the public school in the Dakota zone? So...that¡¯s not an option for me now even if I wanted it. And there are placement exams for schools on the island. Transcripts don¡¯t transfer over.
He still headed toward the biology classroom, but when he reached it, his feet didn¡¯t stop. Barely aware of his surroundings, he walked through the lunchroom. The Juniors and Seniors were just finishing up. Maybe some of them wondered why he was there, or maybe they didn¡¯t notice.
In either case, nobody stopped him.
Alden¡¯s school was ostensibly big on security. Getting into or out of the building during the middle of the day was supposed to be a whole thing, with permission slips and id checks and no child unaccounted for, ever.
But when he reached the main office, the mail guy was delivering heavy boxes, and the front doors were propped open by a dolly.
Alden didn¡¯t even have to talk to anyone.
He just walked right out, crossed the parking lot, and kept going.
###
About half an hour into his impromptu hike, Alden had recovered enough of his senses to behave a little more normally. He texted Boe to explain that he was cutting class because he needed to clear his head.
Boe would probably assume it was a Hannah thing. He wouldn¡¯t worry too much.
Then, Alden summoned a rideshare. He really couldn¡¯t pass for eighteen, but the driver didn¡¯t comment on it.
Twenty-five minutes later, they were pulling up in front of the consulate.
¡°You into that alien stuff?¡± the man asked as Alden got out of the car.
Alden couldn¡¯t tell what the guy was getting at. It could have been a subtle dig at the Artonans and the people who were a little too worshipful of them. Like Alden¡¯s wordchain teacher. Or maybe it was just an idle question.
¡°They have classes here,¡± Alden said. ¡°You can get college credit for some of them.¡±
The man nodded as if that was a satisfying answer.
¡°You¡¯re also supposed to come here to register if you get powers.¡±
¡°Ha,¡± said the driver. ¡°Yeah. Everyone knows that. When I tell my kid I drove someone over here, I¡¯m gonna say you were a full-blown superhero. It¡¯ll make her day.¡±
Alden was tempted to tell him. But not quite enough to actually go through with it.
Anyway, he thought as the car drove off, I¡¯m not a superhero. Yet. I''m a B-ranked potential Cudgel Meister.
This is strange. I feel so strange.
For some reason, the occasion was simultaneously more and less momentous than he¡¯d imagined it would be.
Maybe it was the B-ranking?
Everyone dreamed of getting A or S and dreaded getting D or F.
B was really good¡ªtop 15% of all superhumans actually¡ªbut it was a long way from being an easy road to achieving his dreams. If he messed up, if he made the wrong choices in the next ninety days, he might be giving up his current life in exchange for a very difficult one.
Neither Alden¡¯s childhood dreams nor his adolescent fears had revolved around him having a rank that made him maybe-employable. His brain was having a little trouble deciding whether it should be delighted with his new rank or disappointed in it.
Or maybe it was the cudgel thing throwing his mood out of whack? It was just so random and unexpected. Alden had researched the word cudgel on the whole ride over, hoping it might have a secret alternate definition he didn¡¯t know about.
But no. It was a club.
Which meant he was on the verge of becoming a weaponmaster for the least sophisticated weapon in existence. Unless there was a class specifically for people who liked to hit other people with rocks.
I think I¡¯ll be a tiny bit disappointed when the hype fades, he decided.
But the disappointment hadn¡¯t hit yet. Honestly, right now it was all kind of funny. He was excited, freaked out, and confused in equal measures.
He¡¯d been chosen. By the System. No matter what happened next, he was only one YES away from being a superhuman with all of the vast, mysterious, and frightening changes that entailed.
Hi, I¡¯m Super Alden. My special talent is heavy sticks. I¡¯m like a caveman. But better.
He snorted at himself, and headed for the consulate¡¯s entrance.
Seriously, though, a B-ranked Meister is riiight on the edge of usefulness for superhero work? That''s encouraging. But cudgel just won¡¯t do. The skill options will be ridiculously narrow.
Alden had never actually heard of Meister of the Cudgel. Swordmasters were pretty common, though, and he knew how that went. You got skills and spells that made you good with swords.
Period.
There were hardly any choices offered to someone who¡¯d been given a specific weapon class.
He¡¯d only read up on the S and A-ranks, but for them at least, the first skill was almost always one that would prevent you from being easily disarmed. The second was your chance to select an offensive style you liked. The third would let you increase your primary or secondary class stat.
There was slightly more room to be creative with the spells, but they were still all things that would buff your own weapon somehow. And the buffs were boring unless you were an S-rank. You could make your sword sharper or harder or heavier or longer or more pointy.
Cudgel was bound to be even worse.
Alden could imagine himself in twenty years, heavily muscled but dead-eyed, trying to hold down a job while he chose between stimulating options like ¡°Mega Dense Club Level 12¡± or ¡°Even Stronger Biceps x14.¡±
Yeah, it¡¯s not for me. Jeremy would probably love it, though. For the humor factor if nothing else.
Hopefully, Gorgon was right about class trades not being limited to the worst of the worst options.
THIRTEEN: The B-Ranks
When Alden stepped through the doors of the consulate, he was surprised to find the lobby wasn¡¯t empty.
He¡¯d expected it to be abandoned since the only weekday classes were in the evening. But there was a man sitting in Gorgon¡¯s favorite chair, taking advantage of the free WiFi to play an MMORPG on his laptop. And there was a rowdy trio of two college-aged guys and a girl taking pictures with Gorgon in the background.
They seemed to be trying to get some kind of humorous ¡°Eek! A demon!¡± shot, judging by the faces they kept making and all the weird angles they were going for.
Gorgon¡¯s expression was peaceful. In a human way. Which meant he was deliberately putting on a show so their pictures would be ruined.
Assholes, thought Alden.
He walked through the middle of the group and took a wide stance at the desk, so that the alien would be mostly hidden from view.
¡°Hi,¡± he said.
¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be in school?¡± Gorgon¡¯s tone was mild.
¡°I heard you needed help,¡± Alden whispered. ¡°So I ran right over to save you.¡±
Gorgon tilted his head. His black eyes were focused on the tray full of ballpoint pens by Alden¡¯s arm.
¡°You¡¯re not serious?¡±
¡°Uh¡no?¡± Alden was surprised. He¡¯d thought it was obvious he was joking.
¡°Ah. I thought not. But you haven¡¯t brought food with you today, which is out of the norm, so I wasn¡¯t sure.¡±
Right. No snacks.
This was the first time he¡¯d come to the consulate without any in ages.
¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I was in a rush to get here because of¡that seventy percent probability thing. It happened.¡±
He didn¡¯t want to say it out loud in front of the gamer dude and the college jerks.
¡°I see.¡± Gorgon¡¯s eyes met Alden¡¯s briefly then slid away. ¡°Let me turn off the WiFi.¡±
At Alden¡¯s confused expression, he added, ¡°It¡¯s the fastest way to clear the lobby.¡±
Sure enough, five minutes later they were alone in the building.
¡°So,¡± said Alden, tapping one of the pens nervously against the top of the desk, ¡°what usually happens now? Do I just¡say it? Are there forms to sign or something? Is confetti going to fall from the ceiling?¡±
¡°I¡¯ve asked for a confetti cannon, but it¡¯s never in the budget.¡±
Alden grinned at him.
¡°To answer your question more seriously, what usually happens now is that the selectee or Avowed comes in with their family and friends. They reveal their status and declare their intent to lawfully register themselves as a superhuman.¡± Gorgon paused. ¡°Sometimes, there are news crews in attendance. I congratulate the chosen individual and fill out the necessary paperwork with the United States government, or the Canadian one on occasion. If the selectee desires a class trade, they have to go through the trade process first.¡±
¡°So no registering until after affixation?¡±
¡°Correct,¡± said Gorgon. Then he added, ¡°After the formalities are complete, I shake the Avowed¡¯s hand. And I give them a free ballpoint pen.¡±
¡°Well, I¡¯d rather not have my Aunt Connie around for this. She¡¯ll cry a lot, or cheer a lot¡I¡¯m not sure which, but it¡¯ll be awkward since I¡¯m pretty mad at her right now. And I¡¯ve already stolen eight or nine of your pens. Plus, I need to do the trade.¡±
Gorgon stood up from his chair and motioned for Alden to follow him. They headed for the elevators.
¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± Gorgon said as the doors closed. ¡°This is sooner than I expected. Based on¡certain insights I had upon drinking your blood, I assumed you would be chosen in six to eight months. But I am not flawless. Have you perhaps received a high ranking?¡±
Alden shook his head. He was practically vibrating with energy. ¡°Not really. It¡¯s B. Cudgel Meister.¡±
¡°Cudgel?¡± Gorgon¡¯s voice was incredibly neutral now.
Smooth as a sheet of glass.
Alden assumed it was because they were in that dangerous territory where he had to avoid giving any useful information. That was fine. Alden felt like he could fill a canyon with his own thoughts, and now that they were alone, he could ramble to his heart¡¯s content.
¡°It¡¯s the worst. For what I want to do anyway. Meister could have been good, but not with a close-combat weapon subtype. They¡¯re almost purely geared toward offense, and being a B-rank superhero who fights at close range is¡no. For my taste. I¡¯m not really into hitting things sort of hard and then dying to literally any villain that outranks me.¡±
Being a B-rank who fought non-super crime would be way safer, but most countries had laws that prohibited the hiring of Avowed for military and police forces. Because of the potential for abuse, the UN and the Associated Heroes of Earth had more or less banned the practice where they could.
¡°Anyway, I¡¯m going to trade it for something better. I hope¡¡± Alden trailed off as he realized the elevator was not going up. It was going down.
¡°Gorgon, does this building have a basement?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
Alden stared at the elevator panel. ¡°Where¡¯s the button?¡±
¡°There isn¡¯t one. It¡¯s accessed through a System sigil. The lower levels are for official Artonan use only.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not Artonan.¡±
¡°As a selectee, you are now Artonan property. It¡¯s close enough.¡±
Property? Well, technically. Maybe. But still.
Alden gave him a look. ¡°I don¡¯t think you have to put it quite that way. It sounds horrible.¡±
¡°I am merely stating a fact as clearly and succinctly as I am able to. I can¡¯t help how it sounds.¡±
¡°Right,¡± said Alden. ¡°But, just as an FYI, most people prefer to think of it as being drafted. And getting magic powers in exchange.¡±
¡°That¡no, nevermind. The semantics are too fraught with human emotions for me to navigate. Let us just say that your status affords you new privileges and comes with proportional costs.¡±
¡°That sounds way better.¡±
¡°If you say so.¡±
Alden was disappointed when the elevator opened onto a perfectly normal looking hallway, lined with perfectly normal looking doors. The floor was beige, the walls were beige, and as if to add a hint of interest, the doors were a slightly darker shade of beige.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Gorgon led him to a small, gray office that was nearly empty except for a table that seemed to have been carved out of a block of milky white crystal. There was a single metal folding chair beside it.
Gorgon gestured to the chair, one of his golden bindings trailing through the air like a scarf as he did so, and Alden took it.
The alien went to stand on the opposite side of the table. ¡°Before we begin, I will tell you exactly the same thing I tell every selectee who comes here without an entourage of civilian onlookers. It¡¯s a simple courtesy I would extend to all, but it tends to make your government officials whine when they catch wind of it. So it is reserved for the lonely few.¡±
Alden blinked. ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t tell me anything really useful?¡±
Gorgon nodded. ¡°This is less a revelation and more a reminder of something you should already know. Which is this: even once your class is affixed, you don¡¯t actually have to register yourself as one of the Avowed.¡±
Alden blinked. ¡°Beg pardon?¡±
Gorgon waved his hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s something that likely does not apply to you, considering what I know of your personal goals. But I have observed that young humans often barrel along the beaten path without pausing to consider other options. To be clear, registering new Avowed with Earth governments is a service this consulate provides for the convenience of the Avowed. I owe no loyalty to human Presidents or Kings. And the Artonan Triplanets have no registration requirement, because upon your selection by the System, all of your information was immediately made available to them anyway.¡±
I did know that, Alden realized with surprise. Sort of.
Being chosen by the System meant his Aunt was no longer his legal guardian, and he was no longer American. Upon registration, his citizenship would automatically be transferred to Anesidora Island. Ninety days after his selection day, he¡¯d be required to leave the country. It was the same rules for virtually every other place in the world.
But that was an Earth thing.
The Artonans didn¡¯t care where Avowed lived. Alden could take up residence in the White House or on the moon or in another dimension altogether. They could summon him from anywhere, as far as he knew, so it was all the same to them.
Only¡
¡°Gorgon, not registering would make me a criminal. Everywhere on this planet at least. It¡¯s pretty much step one in becoming a supervillain instead of a hero.¡±
Body Drainer was unregistered. He didn¡¯t say it, but the thought was at the forefront of his mind.
The alien shook his head. ¡°I have met a small but not insignificant number of Avowed who refuse to register, and most of them do so without becoming dangers to society. They live normal lives except for the occasional unavoidable Artonan summons. And in such cases, human governments are none the wiser or the worse for it.¡±
Alden frowned at him. ¡°Are you¡recommending that?¡±
¡°It¡¯s not a recommendation. It¡¯s a reminder. One I feel the need to deliver when I am able to, given the prevalence of certain narratives about unregistered Avowed. If you wanted to, you could graduate from high school with Boe and Jeremy. You could attend college. You could pursue any of thousands of different careers. And the Artonans would not regard you as a criminal at all.¡±
Alden¡¯s brain tripped around the idea, trying to figure out how to feel about it. ¡°But if someone found out¡¡±
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
¡°Ah, yes,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°Secrecy would be paramount in such a situation. And a life in hiding is not good for one¡¯s nerves. I don¡¯t mean to confuse you, only to encourage you to consider your options. All of them. Before you make momentous and irrevocable decisions.¡±
¡°Okay. Thanks. I¡¯ll¡I will think about it. Maybe if I can¡¯t replace Cudgel Meister, it¡¯s a real option for me? But I do want to at least try for a better class first.¡±
¡°And so I will introduce you to the pre-affixation trading market.¡±
Gorgon placed one of his gray hands on top of the milky crystal table. He splayed his fingers, and a moment later, the table began to glow with a warm light.
¡°The Triplanetary Government of Artona assigns a wide variety of classes to Earth. The types of classes they choose to offer are largely based on which services they anticipate needing from their human summons in the coming decades. I am not at liberty to disclose more than that about their thought process.¡±
¡°But there is more to be disclosed?¡±
Gorgon ignored the question and continued on with his speech.
¡°Despite what you may have heard from more fancifully-minded people, the class you were assigned has absolutely nothing to do with your soul. You do not have a hidden power or personality trait that made the System gift you your Cudgel Meister class. It was merely the next B-ranked assignment on the System¡¯s distribution list at the moment your being reached the threshold for selection.¡±
Alden leaned back in the chair, and the metal creaked. ¡°That¡¯s a relief to hear even though I already know it. It does feel a little like I¡¯m jinxing myself by wanting to trade classes.¡±
Gorgon sighed dramatically. ¡°I am aware that many humans feel that way about it. The number of young people who weep and pray over the decision here in these rooms even after I tell them there¡¯s no need for such agony is¡distressing.¡±
¡°So the Artonans really don¡¯t care at all if we trade classes around?¡±
¡°They do not, provided trades only take place between equally ranked individuals. The ninety day grace period exists so that you can take advantage of the trading option. It is so that you might find a class that suits your tastes better, which will ultimately make you happier and more effective during your service.¡±
¡°Sounds good to me. So how do I do it?¡±
¡°You need to place your hand on the table and access the System.¡±
¡°How?¡±
Gorgon¡¯s face twitched. ¡°You don¡¯t know how?¡±
¡°It¡¯s only been an hour or so. And I was busy researching cudgels on the way over here,¡± Alden said defensively. ¡°I didn¡¯t have time to research the System interface, too.¡±
¡°You can choose your own verbal access phrase. Common English ones include ¡®online,¡¯ ¡®call,¡¯ and ¡®access.¡¯ Even if you do not master the art of mental commands for every System function, most Avowed find it easy enough to call the System in that fashion after a small amount of practice. You may also utilize a physical gesture.¡±
Then he added, ¡°I recommend assigning some hands-free ones in case you need to access the System when you are mentally exhausted, gagged, and physically bound.¡±
¡°Uh¡how often does that happen?¡±
Gorgon didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he said, ¡°A pattern of eye movements or subtle muscle contractions is a good choice.¡±
Alden made a mental note to figure something like that out when he had a mirror handy so he could make sure he didn¡¯t look completely unhinged when he rolled his eyes around and clenched various muscles.
¡°Access System,¡± he said.
The interface of golden light blossomed into view.
¡°It answered,¡± he noted. ¡°I thought I might have to say ¡®Access Interdimensional Warriors Contract¡¯ to make it work.¡±
¡°The System is a semi-sentient spell, and it¡¯s extremely intelligent. It¡¯s aware of all its various names. You may have a harder time if you ever find yourself trying to access one of the sister Systems on another planet, though.¡±
¡°Again¡how often does that happen?¡±
But Alden was soon distracted from worrying thoughts about lying bound and gagged on foreign planets. As soon as he placed his hand on the table across from Gorgon¡¯s, his interface lit up.
¡°Oh. Neat. It¡¯s like a global auction house full of desperate people.¡±
There was even a button to sort by the trades that were ending soonest. Because they¡¯ve got something awful, and their ninety day timer is running out.
The traders¡¯ locations were listed. They were teens from all over the world. But all of their offers were in perfect English, so the System must have been a great translator.
And to Alden¡¯s shock, people were offering actual material wealth in addition to the classes they were trading. He hadn¡¯t thought that would be an option.
¡°Gorgon, this is nuts. Someone in Beijing is literally paying half a million dollars for a C-rank Speedster Brute to C-rank Mind Healer trade!¡±
¡°Yes, that¡¯s been up for the full ninety days. The selectee obviously wants Healer of Mind badly, but even if one has been assigned in recent months, nobody is willing to trade it.¡±
¡°There aren¡¯t any names,¡± Alden noted. ¡°Just random ID numbers.¡±
¡°By default, trades are private. Though in the case of more unusual classes it soon becomes obvious who the involved parties were. In your case, I recommend not bothering to be overly secretive. You will note that there aren¡¯t as many selectees trading at your level. You may hide your identity, but the personal touch can make the difference when it comes to final decisions.¡±
Alden stared at the interface. He poked around until he had it sorted by rank. There were only a couple of dozen B-classes open to trading right now. ¡°How would I even give this the personal touch? The listings seem pretty basic.¡±
¡°Choose someone as if you intend to trade with them. Make sure they do not have autotrade selected.¡±
¡°Um¡what if they say yes?¡±
¡°You can still refuse as long as it¡¯s not an autotrade. Also, you can trade as many times as you like prior to the end of your ninety days.¡± He paused. ¡°Obviously you should not take something undesirable on a whim.¡±
Alden searched through the IDs. A few did have the autotrade feature selected. Most of those had extremely specific and overpowered class types listed under their ¡°Wanted¡± section. Alden assumed it was so that they wouldn¡¯t miss a perfect opportunity if it came along while they weren¡¯t paying attention.
He scanned the listings until he found an interesting one.
[Available Pre-affixation Class Trades]
¡ª Rank B ¡ª
[ID: B74 Location: Dakota Avowed Seclusion Zone, USA
Trading: Morph Brute
Wanted: Adjuster (All), Healer (All), Shaper of Life, Meister (Ranged Magic Weapons, Magic Tools, Uncommon Types), Rares
Notes: no more %8*$# Brutes or Sways. Leave me alone, you *&%^@!
Autotrade: NO]
¡°Can I click on this Morph?¡± Alden asked, gesturing at the listing. ¡°It¡¯s a really useful class. It seems like they probably don¡¯t want close combat, but Cudgel Meister could be considered an uncommon Meister type, couldn¡¯t it?¡±
¡°Alden, you do realize I can¡¯t see your System interface, don¡¯t you?¡± Gorgon said. ¡°I only know you¡¯re referring to Selectee B74 because I¡¯ve read through the trade window myself recently.¡±
¡°I¡¯m an idiot. Sorry. Also, your memory is good.¡±
¡°That selectee is particularly easy to recollect. They¡¯ve been trading in person for roughly sixteen hours each day for the past two months.¡±
¡°In person?¡±
¡°Autotrade is usually used when people are sleeping or otherwise engaged. B74 is rarely otherwise engaged. Introduce yourself to them. You¡¯ll see what I mean.¡±
Gorgon stepped into the corner of the room while Alden figured out how to initiate a trade with B74.
He had to swipe through several screens to set up his own trading profile first. Finally, he was given the identity B13 and his own little place on the class trades list.
[ID: B13 Location: Artonan Consulate 4, USA
Trading: Meister of Cudgel
Wanted: Adjuster (All), Healer (All), Meister (Traps, Wands)
Notes: Become a master of the cudgel. Hit bad guys with sticks.
Autotrade: NO]
Alden looked over the listing and felt fairly satisfied with it. He would need to refresh his knowledge of some of the more obscure classes so that he could fill out his ¡°wanted¡± section better. He¡¯d almost listed rares, like B74, because the rare classes were all interesting just by virtue of being more mysterious. But the only ones he could think of off the top of his head were Rabbit, Tailor, and Mourner, and those were even worse for his needs than Cudgel Meister.
Now that he had a profile, B74¡¯s id had been highlighted like a clickable link.
He clicked.
[INITIATE LIVE TRADE NEGOTIATIONS WITH B74?]
YES/NO
Alden selected yes.
[B74 has accepted your invitation. B74 has been vouched for by an authorized witness. You have been vouched for by an authorized witness. Negotiations are approved.]
¡°Keep one of your hands on the table, or the connection will be cut off,¡± Gorgon warned him.
Alden scooted his chair closer to the glowing crystal table and pressed his right hand to it more firmly.
A second later, he almost leaped out of his seat as a boy appeared from thin air, sitting in another metal folding chair on the other side of the table.
Alden swore and leaned back in alarm.
It wasn¡¯t just the other guy. A collection of junk had appeared on the other half of the table at the same time. As if it had been horizontally bisected, the pristinely empty table Alden was sitting at suddenly ended, and an identical table covered in chip bags, energy drink bottles, napkin wads, notebooks, uncapped pens, and highlighters began.
Sitting at the filthy table, with a serious case of bedhead and a really dense five o¡¯clock shadow for a guy who must have been around Alden¡¯s age, B74 looked pissed.
He slapped the table and stood, glaring at Alden.
¡°Listen up, you newbie dumbass,¡± he snapped. ¡°I¡¯m only accepting your negotiation request so that you won¡¯t keep bothering me! I¡¯m not trading Morph for an overpowered baseball bat. In case it¡¯s not obvious from my listing, I want good shit. Not weird shit. This is B-rank. A chance at a great trade could happen while I¡¯m dealing with losers like you. I have been pissing in bottles for the past two months so that I don¡¯t have to take bathroom breaks. I don¡¯t have time to be all buddy-buddy with you. Don¡¯t contact me again unless you manage to get something on my wanted list!¡±
Before Alden could even apologize, B74 lifted both of his hands from the table, and he disappeared.
For a full minute, Alden just stared at the spot where the other boy had vanished. Then he took a deep breath.
¡°Gorgon, people can¡¯t physically attack me through the magic table, can they?¡±
¡°No,¡± Gorgon said. ¡°But that would add zest to my job.¡±
FOURTEEN: Class Trader, Part One
Class Trader, Part One
Alden spent the entire afternoon sitting in the trading room. Gorgon stuck around for the first hour or so, answering what questions he was allowed to. But after that, he headed back upstairs.
As long as Alden didn¡¯t leave the room, the System still considered him to have been safely vouched for by an authorized witness. When he took bathroom breaks, though, Gorgon had to accompany him back and re-activate the table.
The alien had told Alden that there would be no peeing in bottles in the Chicago consulate. Or else.
Not that I planned to. Does he think I¡¯m an animal?
For the first couple of hours, Alden focused on gaining an understanding of the trading platform and closely examining his fellow B-ranks. A few people did log in and out, disappearing from his System interface entirely, but most just adjusted the ¡°wanted¡± lists on their profiles and turned on the autotrade feature when they needed to leave. That was fascinating because it made it possible for Alden to tell what classes they really hoped for as opposed to what they would merely settle for.
Almost everyone was at least willing to take the Adjuster class, and many of them seemed to want it in particular.
Which was expected but¡not good.
Adjuster of Reality was basically a build-your-own mage class. Adjusters got a huge list of reality-altering spells to choose from in the beginning, and based on their choices, they were eventually pushed along increasingly narrower paths toward unique specializations. Hannah, for example, had chosen a basic mobile barrier for her first spell, and she¡¯d eventually leaped from that into things like the magic preservation bubble she¡¯d used on Alden.
But she could have chosen from dozens of other spells and gained a totally different power set.
Some Adjusters focused on improving their own bodies and came out almost like magically enhanced Brutes. Others could shoot bolts of electricity from their palms.
Of course everyone wants it. There¡¯s just nothing bad about being an Adjuster.
Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely true¡
Once an Adjuster chose their path, the System did lock them into it pretty hard. If the first spell you picked was Ice Over, you¡¯d better not suddenly decide you hated frost magic, because you wouldn¡¯t be offered much else. But Alden didn¡¯t think that was a terrible drawback, and apparently his fellow B-ranks felt the same.
It¡¯s too early to give up on it. Maybe people trade it more often than I¡¯m guessing?
To give himself a better idea, he toggled off the setting that made the trading platform show only his own rank and started spying on the others. He couldn¡¯t select any of them and offer to trade, but it was still interesting.
There were only three lonely S-ranks.
One was trying to trade Sky Shaper for a healer position, which at that vaunted rank was like trying to trade a dump-truck full of rubies for a freaking freight train full of them.
¡°Greedy much?¡± Alden grumbled.
The others were a strength-type Brute, like Arjun Thomas, and¡a Bridge Wright?
What on Earth? Wrights were the crafting class. Usually they weren¡¯t so¡weirdly specific on first assignment. Bridges. And S-rank? What is that dude supposed to do with that one?
Clearly the new S-rank was supposed to build bridges. AMAZING ones. But that seemed like a really strange thing for the Artonans to have ordered up.
Alden could just imagine his fellow selectee staring at their class assignment window trying to figure out whether to jump with joy at being in the 99th percentile of all superhumans or scream because they would only be able to use their awesome power for building a single type of structure.
Maybe if you develop it far enough the bridges do things?
Well, it was a problem for the fancy S-ranks to sort out. Not Alden.
There were fifteen A-ranks currently trading. None of them were Adjusters.
And there were a couple thousand C¡¯s. Which made some sense. C-rank was the most common at roughly 35% of all Avowed. Followed by the D¡¯s and F¡¯s with 30% and 20% respectively.
I¡¯m pretty lucky really. B¡¯s made up around 9% of the superhuman population.
The numbers don¡¯t work out logically, though.
There were way fewer S¡¯s, A¡¯s, and B¡¯s trading than Alden would have thought there should be.
Maybe a lot of the unwanted classes are disproportionately distributed toward the lower end of the scale?
He scribbled cubes and spirals on the cover of his biology notebook while he thought about it.
It could also have been the fact that some powers that were meh at lower levels actually became quite useful at higher ones. Like the Shaper subtypes. They were really bad for anyone below C, but then they spiked sharply and became tremendously good for A¡¯s.
No wonder B74 is a wreck. He must have sold a kidney to get that Morph, and he¡¯s still trying to trade into something better.
Morph was the shapeshifter version of the Brute class. It wasn¡¯t Alden¡¯s preference, but it was nice. Really nice at B.
Crap. This is going to be a people thing, isn¡¯t it?
He understood what Gorgon meant about the personal touch being important now. Nobody was going to see Alden¡¯s class and just want it, unless their own was a total dud. He would probably have to trade up and up gradually until he got something decent, and to do that, he¡¯d have to talk to people. He¡¯d have to persuade them.
Preferably without turning into an unhygienic ragelord like B74.
He went ahead and searched through all the lower ranks, looking for Adjusters. One C-rank had been hanging around for more than a month, but for some reason, they only wanted Mourner in exchange and weren¡¯t willing to trade for anything else.
It was an extremely rare class. They weren¡¯t likely to get it. Alden wondered why they even wanted it in the first place.
Mourner was the emotional transference class, where you literally took others¡¯ negative feelings into yourself. He¡¯d always thought it sounded like self-inflicted torture. Maybe there was more to it, though?
I need to research the rares. He wrote it down in his notebook.
The only other Adjuster he found was at D-rank. They appeared for a grand total of two minutes, and then vanished.
Right. So that¡¯s how it is. I might need to moderate my goals a little.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
He cracked his knuckles and stretched. Then he went upstairs to talk to Gorgon.
###
Evening classes were starting, and there were people coming and going. But nobody was bothering Gorgon, and since Alden didn¡¯t take any of the classes on Thursdays, none of these people knew him or cared what he was up to as he approached the desk.
¡°I¡¯m going to head home, text my friends, feed the cat, and grab some dinner,¡± he said quietly. ¡°Two questions: Can I use the trading room all night long if I want? And can I bring Jeremy with me?¡±
Gorgon blinked. It was only the second time Alden had ever seen his eyelids.
¡°The trading room is yours. As I stated before, you are now Artonan¡affiliated. You may use the building at all hours. Not that I wasn¡¯t letting you anyway. And as you are the only selectee currently taking advantage of this consulate¡¯s services, you don¡¯t even have to worry about sharing.¡± He tilted his head. ¡°As for Jeremy, I suppose you could bring him?¡±
¡°You don¡¯t sound sure.¡±
¡°Nobody¡¯s ever asked for a civilian companion in the trading room. I¡¯ll have to check with my supervisor, but I can¡¯t think of a real reason for her to say no. The Artonans tend to be rather relaxed about what they see as human eccentricities. But what would you even do with Jeremy?¡±
¡°He¡¯s really likable. And insightful. People naturally lower their guard around him. There¡¯s obviously a lot of tension going on with my fellow selectees, and I want to reduce it. Jeremy can be my wingman and persuade the other B-ranks to give me all their juicy classes.¡± Alden pause, then added. ¡°He¡¯ll think it¡¯s cool, too.¡±
Gorgon blinked again. ¡°That¡¯s a clever idea.¡±
¡°Why do you sound shocked?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a clever idea, but it won¡¯t work the way you¡¯re thinking it will.¡±
Alden felt himself deflate. ¡°Why not?¡±
¡°Jeremy can¡¯t use the System in the same way you can. He can¡¯t access the trading platform. He won¡¯t be able to see or hear the person you¡¯re talking to, and they won¡¯t be able to see or hear him.¡±
Alden groaned. ¡°You¡¯re destroying my dreams.¡±
But Gorgon still looked thoughtful. ¡°Leave it for tonight. I¡¯ll put in a request and have an answer for you tomorrow. I will explain your desire for emotional support to my supervisor. Perhaps if I describe Jeremy as a sort of servant¡or a pet.¡±
It was Alden¡¯s turn to blink. ¡°Gorgon, Jeremy is not a poodle.¡±
The alien shrugged. ¡°Some concepts are just easier to translate across species than others.¡±
If that was case, then Alden was a bit concerned about how this supervisor viewed the world. But he¡¯d take what he could get.
He turned to go, but he only made it a few steps across the polished floor before he was stopped by a light touch against his back. He spun in surprise, only to find it was Gorgon, looking up at him with an uncommonly direct stare.
¡°Let me take your luggage for you,¡± he said.
¡°Huh?¡±
¡°Let me take your luggage.¡± Gorgon nodded toward the messenger bag slung across Alden¡¯s shoulders.
Nonplussed, Alden removed the bag and handed it over. He expected Gorgon to do something with it. Maybe it was a security check to make sure he hadn¡¯t stolen anything from downstairs?
But the alien only took the bag and carried it toward the lobby doors. He set it down on the threshold and then walked back to his desk, passing Alden on his way.
He¡¯s walking weird.
It was stiff and¡pained?
¡°What the heck was that about?¡± Alden called after him.
¡°I will see you when you return,¡± Gorgon said in an even higher voice than normal. ¡°Have a pleasant evening.¡±
¡°Gorgon?¡±
¡°Have a pleasant evening.¡±
Alden left feeling extremely unnerved.
He¡¯d gotten to know Gorgon well enough to say with some confidence that the alien would not go out of his way to suddenly valet Alden¡¯s book bag fifteen feet for no reason at all.
Which means there was a reason, Alden thought, watching buildings slide by through the train windows as he made his way back home. Only I don¡¯t have any idea what it is.
He¡¯d worried over it for the past ten minutes, and he¡¯d come up with nothing that made him feel more at ease.
Is it some gross servant thing? Like he¡¯s forced to do it now because I¡¯m going to be one of the Avowed?
The thought was disturbing. But it could be the case. Whoever had set the terms of Gorgon¡¯s imprisonment was clearly a nasty piece of work. And as far as he knew, Alden had never seen the alien interact with another Avowed. He didn¡¯t have a framework for comparison.
I hope that isn¡¯t it. The only other thing it could be is some kind of¡hint? Suggestion? About class selection?
Alden liked that idea much better, but Gorgon had stated extremely clearly that he wasn¡¯t allowed to do such a thing.
If it was a hint, it was a vague one.
And it was an important one, because the alien didn¡¯t seem like the type to risk Artonan wrath for no good reason.
So, no pressure, Alden. You just need to figure out what connection your perfectly ordinary messenger bag has to superhero work.
Alden closed his eyes. He tried to pick apart Gorgon¡¯s every word and action.
It was weird that he called it luggage instead of a bag? There¡¯s not a class that has anything to do with luggage. Maybe it¡¯s about travel in general? Speed-types travel fast. There¡¯s that Bike Meister lady who¡¯s like a motorcycle goddess; that¡¯s sort of travel related.
But those didn¡¯t feel right. For one thing, Bike Meister was one of a kind. Nobody had ever gotten it before or since. And surely even if Gorgon had to be vague, he could have come up with something more obvious if he was trying to point Alden toward a speedster class.
He could have just said some version of ¡°Hurry up.¡±
It¡¯s probably not a recommendation that I try to go for a teleportation build either, right? I don¡¯t think B-ranks have an option like that, and if we did, it would just be a specific version of Adjuster. He knows that¡¯s my top choice anyway. He could have waited to see if I even got the class or not before saying anything.
By the time the train reached his stop, Alden still had no clue what the mysterious message meant.
He stepped out into the evening air. It was cold. He¡¯d left his coat at school, and the wind stole what heat his body had collected during the ride.
He shivered.
Does this mean Gorgon thinks I should be focusing on some class other than Adjuster? Or just in addition to it?
The uncertainty was worrying. But he shouldn¡¯t stand here agonizing over it all night.
Get home. Eat. Feed the cat, he told himself sternly.
And maybe he would borrow a sleeping bag from one of the neighbors. The room with the crystal table was nice and all, but it was going to be really uncomfortable to spend hour upon hour in there. Maybe he could nap in between checking for new trade listings.
And when should I tell Jeremy and Boe?
For that matter, when should he tell his aunt? She would definitely promise not to share the secret, and she would also definitely break that promise as soon as she got a little too excited. So¡he¡¯d have two days, max, after telling her. And then everyone in Chicago would know.
Aunt Connie¡¯s out then.
Alden was 99% sure he didn¡¯t want to go down the unregistered route Gorgon had mentioned, but until he was completely positive, he didn¡¯t want to burn bridges.
I can get away with skipping school tomorrow, then I¡¯ll have to figure something out.
If he called the school counselor and told her about Hannah¡¯s funeral he could probably clear a full week. But that felt wrong.
It¡¯s Saturday. That¡¯s so soon.
He really didn¡¯t want to go. Especially now. What if someone at the funeral could tell he was a selectee? He didn¡¯t know what kinds of powers Hannah¡¯s friends had.
Maybe I can ask people for class advice?
Again, that felt wrong. It was a funeral, not a networking opportunity.
I just have to get through it.
By the time Alden made it to his own front door, he was so cold he was sure that forgetting his coat was karmic justice for how badly he and Boe had teased Jeremy a few weeks ago.
FIFTEEN: Class Trader, Part Two
Class Trader, Part Two
On Saturday morning, Alden woke up to the trill of his cell phone alarm at the completely uncivilized hour of 4 AM. He crawled out of the cozy sleeping bag he¡¯d brought and flicked on the trading room¡¯s fluorescent lights.
It should be afternoon in India and Indonesia. Evening in China.
Time zones were now something he cared about. He needed to be awake when large numbers of his fellow B-ranks were, and this should be a good time to catch any newcomers.
And, hopefully, it would also be a good time to dodge B74. The other selectee had a lot more experience with trading and a better class to work with than Alden did, plus he was almost always online. Alden needed to take advantage of the guy''s brief absences.
B74 was located in the Avowed zone in the western half of North Dakota, an hour behind Chicago time. And he¡¯d been up until after midnight last night, probably chugging energy drinks and bothering a newcomer with the ID B105, who¡¯d popped up on the trading platform with the Shaper of Life class gleaming like a beacon at the top of their listing.
That class was on 74¡¯s wanted list. Alden was almost positive 74 had made a pest of himself, because the Shaper had only hung around for an hour or so before going offline entirely. Not even an autotrade option was left behind to mark the fact that they existed.
B74 had set his own autotrade about three minutes later. He still hadn¡¯t managed to get Shaper of Life.
Alden, who¡¯d been quietly examining the other B¡¯s and tweaking his own listing, had smiled. It was partially schadenfreude. 74 was rude, and Alden didn¡¯t want him to have good things.
But the other selectee¡¯s antagonistic existence also played into his own plans for his new career as a class trader. If 74 was going to go around cursing at people with bad classes and annoying the shit out of people with good ones, then Alden would be the light to his darkness. He''d be the friendly one people could talk to. Maybe, hopefully, someone would be more inclined to trade with him because of that.
His listing was freshly updated to reflect that goal.
[ID: B13 Location: Artonan Consulate 4, USA
Trading: Meister of Cudgel
Wanted: Adjuster (All), Brute (Speedster, Uncommons), Healer (All), Meister (Traps, Wands, Uncommons), Shaper (All), Sway (All), Wright (All), Rares
Notes: Meister of Cudgel seems like a class with potential, if close-range weapons appeal to you. It has novelty value compared to the more common weapons subclasses, and we all know branding is particularly important for B-ranks hoping to pursue hero work. I¡¯m happy to chat with anyone even if negotiations aren¡¯t on the table. Looking forward to meeting you all on Anesidora soon. I might be the guy with the club.
Autotrade: NO]
Obviously, Alden didn¡¯t actually want all of the things his ¡°wanted¡± list covered. But he needed to give an impression of openness to conversation, and he shouldn¡¯t take the risk of missing out on some strange subtype he¡¯d never heard of.
He thought mentioning their future as possible neighbors and classmates on the island was a pleasant touch. And a good indicator that unlike some people, he wouldn¡¯t bite someone¡¯s head off if they approached him with a class he didn¡¯t like.
Satisfied for the time being, he sat down and logged himself in. He scanned the list, sipping from a cup of water he¡¯d poured before crawling into his sleeping bag a few short hours ago.
B74 was still absent.
And, with a thrill, Alden saw that the Life Shaper was back. Their listing wasn¡¯t quite as barebones as it had been last night. No doubt they¡¯d finally had time to settle it now that they weren¡¯t fending off 74.
He read it carefully.
ID: B105 Location: Artonan Consulate 1, France
Trading: Shaper of Life
Wanted: Adjuster (All), Healer (All), Wright (All)
Notes: I¡¯m happy with Shaper of Life, but I¡¯m interested in seeing what else might be available before I commit to it. I do not want Morph.
Autotrade: NO
Alden was tempted to contact them, if only to tell them the specific mention of 74''s Morph was a nice dig. But he didn¡¯t. Based on their preferences, they weren¡¯t going to go for any kind of physical combat class, and they probably had a low tolerance for wasting time after last night.
Instead, his eyes landed on a listing that had appeared less than a minute ago.
ID: B22 Location: Artonan Consulate 1, Poland
Trading: Chainer
Wanted: Meister (Knuckles)
Notes: Hello. Good to meet you.
Autotrade: YES
Alden read the listing. Then, feeling certain he must have missed something, he read it again.
¡°No, B22,¡± he muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t trade Chainer for that.¡±
Chainer was one of the rarest of all the classes.
Alden had had time to freshen up his knowledge of some of the rares last night. In general, they weren¡¯t better than others. They just happened to be the classes that represented less than a percent of the overall pool. Though the errand-runner class, Rabbit, was more like 1.1% according to this year''s numbers.
All of the rares were oddballs, but some of them seemed to be impractical oddballs, while others had their uses. Like Chainer.
He didn''t know a lot about it, but it was a class that purportedly gave you access to the most powerful wordchains and reduced any negative side effects from them. The Artonans were funny about sharing the higher level wordchains , so it was a unique opportunity.
Wordchains were inherently balanced, which made the idea of using powerful ones a little scary. Sure, you could use a high level luck chain and have the best day ever in Vegas, but was it really a net win if the payback was dying in a car accident a few weeks later?
People said the Chainer class made it more likely that the car crash would only severely injure you instead.
Alden didn¡¯t think it was a class he particularly wanted for himself. But if he were forced to choose right now this second, he¡¯d probably take it over Meister of Cudgel. And B22 could absolutely get something more unique than a Meister for it.
Alden couldn¡¯t remember exactly how often Chainer occurred, but it was an ultra rare. And some people were really into wordchains.
Just to be sure he wasn¡¯t completely off the mark, he looked up B22''s preferred class, Meister of Knuckles, on his laptop. He¡¯d assumed it was a class that specialized in fist weapons, and he was right. It was pretty uncommon.
Unless B22 had just committed a series of terribly unlucky typos, then the only thing they could possibly want was to punch things.
They didn¡¯t even list Healer or Adjuster or anything else.
Well, some people had a fighting style they liked, he guessed. It wasn¡¯t like that was a negative thing.
Chainer is probably a difficult class to use, too. Assuming B22 wanted to be a hero, there was something to be said for the simplicity of smashing bad guys with your fists as opposed to pausing for a meditation break while you made alterations to yourself through cross-dimensional barter.
It just hurt Alden¡¯s soul a little bit to see one of the rarest classes being casually traded without even a monetary bonus request.
Alden scanned the other IDs. There was an Agility Brute in Bangladesh. And of course there was B74 with Morph Brute¡but if the new guy really only wanted Knuckles?
Mine¡¯s the closest of anything online right now. I guess I should at least try to start a negotiation?
Alden wanted to think about it longer, but he couldn¡¯t. Physically strong fighter types were a dime a dozen. And if Knuckle Meister wasn''t the only subclass the new trader was willing to take, then competition would come fast. Or 74 would wake up and throw his hat into the ring.
I know Chainer will be easier to trade than Meister of Cudgel. I have to go for it.
He clicked on B22''s ID before he could second guess himself.
[INITIATE LIVE TRADE NEGOTIATIONS WITH B22?]
¡°Yes,¡± Alden said aloud.
He expected to come face to face with a Polish teen right away, but apparently this person wasn¡¯t operating on the same frantic schedule as B74.
They could be reading up on my class first. Or maybe I have to wait until they''re finished talking to someone else?
Whatever the case, Alden had time to straighten the worst of the wrinkles out of his t-shirt and finger-comb his hair. Then he started skimming through a few websites he¡¯d bookmarked yesterday, trying to find reliable information about Chainer.
An A-rank Chainer named Keiko Velra had been active as a superhero for the past fifteen years in Japan, but she had never given out a lot of info on her own skills, spells, or wordchains. Many Avowed preferred to keep their powers private, and she was apparently one of them. Though it was a little weird for a superhero to be that secretive about her talents unless it was part of her persona.
For the more common classes you could find encyclopedias worth of information, right down to the specifics the System usually offered beginners of every rank. But for the ultrarares there was no guarantee.
But the fact that at least one person a rank above Alden was managing to do hero work with the class was encouraging. It made Chainer seem more viable, and therefore more valuable.
This B22 probably knew that, too.
When they tell me to get lost, I¡¯ll head upstairs for a bathroom break. Maybe when I get back I¡¯ll try to say hi to that Longsight whose grace period is ending in a couple of days.
They¡¯re going to be stuck with that. And they¡¯ve probably been sitting around in a room just this drab for the past three months with nobody willing to talk to them.
Alden was starting to feel claustrophobic, and he hadn¡¯t even been a selectee for a full day yet.
Nearly thirty minutes after he¡¯d asked to negotiate, his System interface finally brightened.
[B22 has accepted your invitation. B22 has been vouched for by an authorized witness. You have been vouched for by an authorized witness. Negotiations are approved.]
Alden had been resting his head on his arms, but he sat up straight just in time to see B22 appear across the table from him.
The other teen was short and pudgy, with dark blonde hair and narrow brown eyes. He had a friendly smile, and he waved at Alden cheerfully with the hand he wasn¡¯t using to maintain contact with the table. On a plate in front of him was a boiled egg and a half-eaten doughnut full of dark red jam.
¡°Dzie¨½ dobry!¡± he said. "
<< Good morning! My name is Andrzej.>>
The words appeared in the lower half of Alden¡¯s vision, centered on the other teen¡¯s chest like subtitles from a foreign-language film.
¡°Morning,¡± said Alden, trying to strike a balance between reading the words and making good eye contact. ¡°I didn¡¯t know how the translation thing would work. This is pretty great.¡±
<>
¡°I was chosen yesterday,¡± said Alden. ¡°So we¡¯re both new at this. My name¡¯s Alden, by the way.¡±
Andrzej ate a bite of his doughnut. He took his time chewing and swallowing, then he said, <>
Alden scratched the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m pretty sure I would. But I know I don¡¯t have exactly the class you want. And I¡¯m not loaded, so I can¡¯t add on a monetary bonus like some people seem to.¡±
The Polish boy brushed crumbs off his hands onto the plate.
<>
Alden had been taking a sip of water. He barely got it down without choking. ¡°You¡you want it?¡±
<>
¡°For Chainer?¡±
Andrzej gave him a slight frown. <>
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
¡°No, no!¡± Alden said hastily. ¡°I just¡¡±
Don¡¯t want to take advantage of you?
He didn¡¯t consider himself to be much of a negotiator, but he knew that wasn¡¯t the right thing to say when you were trying to convince someone to give you what they had.
¡°I¡¯m just surprised you¡¯re interested,¡± he explained. ¡°I thought you might be very selective with your class preference. Since you only listed one on your wanted list.¡±
<> Andrezj said. << Meister of Cudgel is a little lower than Meister of Knuckles, but I¡¯ve taken your point about the value of cudgels for branding purposes into consideration. It¡¯s a good one. It will do what I want it to. And I can improve the stats enough through leveling.>>
It was only then that Alden realized the other boy really had spent the past half hour researching the cudgel class while Alden waited. And he wanted it.
Alden felt off-footed by that for some reason.
A paranoid little part of him hissed, No. Don¡¯t give it to him. If he wants it, then it must be better than what he has!
But that was just nerves talking. Wasn¡¯t it? Andrzej clearly had his own plans for his future as one of the Avowed. Just like Alden did.
I don¡¯t know why you¡¯d want a specific strength minimum, though?
Maybe Andrzej was one of those guys who really did the math, and there was some hard floor on the strength stat for whatever he wanted his career to be?
¡°What are you going to do with it?¡± Alden blurted. ¡°With the cudgel subclass, I mean?¡±
It wasn¡¯t like he needed to know to make the trade, but he wanted to understand what his fellow B-rank was thinking. If it was wildly different from his own perspective on things, he should at least take the time to examine it.
Andrzej smiled, but he shook his head. <>
¡°Come on, man,¡± Alden groaned. ¡°I know I don¡¯t want the class for myself. I¡¯ll give it to you for Chainer. I just¡ª¡±
The Polish boy raised his eyebrows at Alden. <>
Alden¡¯s heart rate picked up. He tightened his grip on the milky crystal surface of the table. Be smart, he ordered himself. Is there some trick here I¡¯m not seeing?
Only it was hard to be smart with just three hours of sleep under his belt and not enough information about one of the classes involved. And he couldn¡¯t just ask for more time to think. Andrzej might give Chainer to someone else.
Of course he won¡¯t tell me what he wants Meister of Cudgel for. He doesn¡¯t want me to decide his ideal superhero build is better than mine and snatch it away from him.
That doesn¡¯t mean his ideal is better than mine. Only that it¡¯s different. It¡¯s fine. There¡¯s no nasty trick here. Most likely. The fact that it¡¯s happening so quickly and easily doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m being an idiot.
Probably.
One of Alden¡¯s hands slipped a little against the table. He was actually sweating.
¡°Yeah, let¡¯s trade,¡± he said, hoping he didn¡¯t sound as nervous as he felt.
Across the table, Andrzej had finished his doughnut, and he was peeling the white off his boiled egg.
<>
On the bottom right corner of Alden¡¯s System overlay were the words Confirm Class Trade.
¡°Confirm class trade,¡± he said.
At exactly the same time, Andrzej was prodding at the air in front of his own face.
A second later, new words appeared.
[TRADE MEISTER OF CUDGEL CLASS FOR CHAINER CLASS?]
YES/NO
¡°Yes,¡± Alden said.
[B22 has requested a trade. You have requested a trade. Both selectees have been vouched for by authorized witnesses. Please wait. Your class is being re-assigned.]
Alden held his breath.
And then he had to stop doing that so he wouldn¡¯t pass out.
<> Andrzej noted.
¡°Right? Does some kind of signal have to travel from here to another dimension and back again?¡±
<>
¡°Yeah. I take classes here at the consulate with an instructor teaching from Artona I, and there¡¯s no lag. As far as I can tell.¡±
Andrzej brightened. <>
¡°Yes.¡±
<>
Oh, so he definitely wanted to do superhero work. From what Alden had heard, you couldn¡¯t graduate from any of the advanced training programs on Anesidora without being fluent in at least one of the world¡¯s five most-spoken languages.
As a B-rank it would be even more important to be multilingual, to increase your odds of getting job offers.
¡°I need to learn Mandarin,¡± Alden mused. He was just thinking out loud, but Andrzej¡¯s smile grew even more excited.
<>
¡°Yes. If I can get the right class, I want to go into¡ª¡±
He was interrupted by a flare of light as his interface shifted.
[CLASS TRADE APPROVED]
Pre-affixed Selectee: Samuel Alden Thorn
Divergence Rank: B
Assigned Class: Chainer
¡
Samuel Alden Thorn, do you willingly accept your duties as one of Earth¡¯s Avowed, thereby satisfying a portion of your planet¡¯s debt to Artona?
YES/NO
2145 h: 20 m: 08 s
<>
¡°Mine¡¯s finished, too. Congrats on your new class.¡±
<>
¡°Wow. You really are sure about what you want.¡±
<>
¡°Ouch, dude. Don¡¯t pull your punches or anything.¡±
Andrzej laughed.
¡°Anyway, before we were interrupted, I was trying to say that what I really want to do is get a class I can turn into decent battlefield support.¡±
<> He looked bemused. <>
¡°Well, not necessarily.¡±
<>
¡°I do want to do team-ups, though,¡± Alden said. ¡°I¡¯d work closely with one or two other Avowed so that we all become way more effective than we would be on our own. A pair of B-ranks with complementary specs could be as good as an A-rank, for sure. Maybe as good as an S in some situations.¡±
Andrzej clearly didn¡¯t agree with that last bit.
His lips pursed. But he only said, <>
Alden stared at the subtitles. ¡°Fairy and Flarey¡± had been said in English, so he¡¯d understood the words just fine. But he had no clue what they meant.
¡°Are those superhero names?¡±
<>
And that was how Alden ended up spending the next fifteen minutes of his life watching clips from an animated Australian children¡¯s program while a Polish guy discussed the finer points of the main characters¡¯ tactical decisions.
Fairy and Flarey were both S-ranks with unique classes. Of course. Because why have a fantasy show if you weren¡¯t going to make it totally over the top?
Fairy could sparkle like a diamond, and her disco ball routine had the power to hypnotize evildoers into chasing after her.
These distracted villains became easy fodder for Flarey, whose primary skill was being a fire-breathing pink hippo-grizzly.
Flarey was the heavy hitter of the team who did the actual fighting, but his giant hippo-grizzly body was too slow to catch bad guys. Before he¡¯d met Fairy, he¡¯d been a laughingstock. And before she¡¯d met him, she hadn¡¯t had the firepower she needed to take down villains on her own.
To Alden¡¯s chagrin, it wasn¡¯t a terrible analogy for what he wanted to do. It was just so¡cute. And Fairy wasn¡¯t very smart.
¡°Yeah, sort of like Fairy,¡± he confessed. ¡°But with more nuance and less getting kidnapped? I hope?¡±
<>
Andrzej sounded dead serious.
¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± Alden cleared his throat. ¡°Enough about me, though, what are you going to do with Meister of Cudgel?¡±
<>
¡°That sounds like a solid plan. I hope you have good luck with it.¡±
<>
¡°I really want Adjuster.¡±
Maybe, Alden added mentally.
He still had no idea what Gorgon¡¯s hint about luggage meant. He¡¯d read lists of every obscure class he could find, and there was nothing bag-related or travel-related as far as he could see. He hoped clarity would strike soon, because by the end of his search last night he was only finding thread-thin connections.
And if that was all he had to work with, he would never have the confidence to actually choose a class that merely might be the one the alien had intended to point him toward.
<>
¡°Its history?¡±
Andrzej suddenly looked a little guilty. <>
¡°You¡¯re making me a little nervous.¡±
<>
¡°No?¡± Alden was interested in prominent superheroes. Not the society of Avowed who lived on the island.
<>
This last bit was said with a smile that was a little too encouraging for Alden¡¯s liking.
Nobody will be mad at me for trading the class because I¡¯m an outsider? What does that mean?
He asked a couple more questions, but Andrzej was apparently unwilling to be any more specific, because he hastily made an excuse, reassured Alden that the class wasn¡¯t bad for his needs, and signed off.
Huh¡that¡¯s not concerning at all, Alden thought as the other teen disappeared.
He stretched and checked his listing. It was greyed-out. He updated it with his new class, then re-activated it.
He couldn¡¯t immediately think of anything clever to say about Chainer in his ¡°notes¡± section, so he just pointed out that it was an ultra rare class that was successfully being used for hero work by at least one other person.
He¡¯d come up with something better after he¡¯d done the research and figured out what Andrzej had meant by his cryptic warning. He wanted a break anyway. He needed to brush his teeth.
He was about to log out when he received a new notice
[B74 HAS REQUESTED NEGOTIATION. DO YOU WISH TO ACCEPT?]
Alden stared at it in surprise. Really? After that insane monologue he gave me twelve hours ago?
Maybe Chainer was a shinier new toy than he¡¯d realized.
Alden tried to think of what the proper payback for 74 was. Nothing too mean. He did have a tiny, wretched fragment of sympathy for his fellow selectee. The guy had barely been sleeping for two straight months. Maybe he¡¯d actually had normal human manners before all of this started.
Still. He needed to chill.
¡°Sure, I¡¯ll talk to him.¡±
B74 flashed into the room. He was standing at his trashed table, and his mouth was already open to say something, but Alden held up his free hand.
¡°Hey, man! Good to see you again, but I can¡¯t talk right now. I have to go brush my teeth. It shouldn¡¯t take too long. Unless I decide to head to school for the day. I¡¯ve got a biology exam. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t miss it? I¡¯ll think about it over breakfast. Anyway, I¡¯ll be back in a few minutes. Or sometime tonight. Sunday at the absolute latest. See you then!¡±
Before his opponent could respond, Alden lifted his other hand and let the connection drop.
Patience was a virtue. Maybe B74 could acquire it while staring at the System interface, waiting for someone who might or might not reappear in the next two days.
SIXTEEN: Boe, Part One
Boe, Part One
Alden stepped out of the elevator, yawning.
Maybe I really will go get breakfast before I come back.
It was five in the morning, but a coffee shop had to be open somewhere. It would be nice to hang out in a place other than consulate basement while he researched his new class.
He stopped by the vending machine to buy a fruit punch for Gorgon, then he headed toward the lobby desk.
¡°So, I¡¯m a pre-affixed Chainer now,¡± he said as he passed the alien the bottle of juice.
¡°That is an extremely rare assignment.¡± Gorgon spoke in the same totally inflectionless voice he always used when the conversation turned toward anything Alden might construe as advice.
¡°It seemed like something I could trade more easily. The guy I got it from seemed to think so, too. I think I was really lucky, but he was a little odd about it. I¡¯m gonna go grab a bite and figure out why.¡±
¡°I see,¡± said Gorgon. ¡°Thank you for the juice.¡±
Alden hesitated, considering his next works carefully.
¡°I¡¯m still thinking over what you said to me last night. I¡noticed it.¡±
He felt the need to acknowledge Gorgon¡¯s hint now that he was positive there was no uncomfortable servitude thing going on between the two of them.
He had been relieved when he returned to the consulate last night with things that might qualify as actual luggage in hand, and the alien had completely ignored him. Alden had fumbled a two-person sleeping bag, snacks, bottled water, his book bag and his ancient laptop into the building. Yet Gorgon hadn¡¯t lifted a finger for him.
But he couldn¡¯t help noticing that the alien¡¯s gray skin was looking downright charred beneath his magical bonds.
So Gorgon had crossed some sort of line for Alden. And Alden didn¡¯t even know how to say thank you properly without possibly making the situation worse for him.
For a beat, the alien was silent.
Then, instead of replying to Alden¡¯s attempt to subtly express his gratitude, he said, ¡°I have received confirmation that you are allowed to have your friends accompany you into the trading room. They would only be able to provide you with moral support, however. My supervisor was disinclined to grant them temporary access to the trading interface.¡±
¡°Wow. Thank you. I really didn¡¯t even expect that much.¡±
Gorgon shrugged. ¡°Normally, she would have been easier to persuade. But she¡¯s recently been penalized for consorting with a demon, and I believe she¡¯s trying to appear more law-abiding than usual.¡±
¡°Your supervisor hangs out with demons?¡± Alden asked. ¡°Not like you, but actual monsters made of pure chaos?¡±
He didn¡¯t have a lot of knowledge on real demons. Earth was only contractually obligated to deal with one or two a year, and they all landed in a controlled zone on Anesidora where they were demolished in a matter of seconds by a few hundred Avowed working together.
No media were allowed, so the semi-annual event was never more than a minor headline.
Still, it didn¡¯t sound like they were beings you¡¯d want to consort with.
¡°All Artonans of the highest ranks have interactions with what some might call true demons. My supervisor just picked a worse one than she should have.¡±
¡°Well, let¡¯s not make her mad, then,¡± Alden said.
¡°Indeed.¡±
The conversation ended on that disturbing note, and Alden headed out.
The walk down the still-dark street cleared his head, and after a few blocks he came to a bakery that was just opening its doors. He ordered a matcha and bought a vegan brownie from the section of the case where the shop kept its day-old baked goods.
Despite multiple attempts to force-feed himself old favorites like shredded cheese and bacon, all Alden had managed to do so far was nearly choke to death.
He had confirmed that his new, magically enforced diet was only a diet though. It didn¡¯t affect other aspects of his life. He could still use one of his dad¡¯s old leather belts, and he¡¯d enthusiastically murdered a cockroach he¡¯d found running across the kitchen floor a couple of nights past.
He might be able to make peace with the situation. Eventually.
At least the brownie¡¯s really good.
He set his laptop up at a small corner table and started delving into the Chainer class. At first, it was all normal stuff. There were reputable sites with basic intel on the class¡¯s natural stat bonuses and a few surprisingly sparse lists of the starter skills offered to each rank.
Interestingly, Chainers didn¡¯t seem to have access to spell impressions. Or at least none of them had ever publicly admitted to earning one.
Must be a soft restriction.
It meant that System-granted spells were probably reserved for the class¡¯s S-ranks or as special rewards instead of something they could earn just by leveling up.
The latter wasn¡¯t a clear-cut or guaranteed process for Avowed. Not in the same way it was in a video game.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Alden didn¡¯t know about Chainers specifically, but for most classes, leveling purportedly involved expanding the functions of your starter skill through a harrowing mix of trial, error, and epiphany. Nobody had ever really come up with a sure-fire method for doing it, as far as he knew. And it wasn''t like the System told you how to improve your skill.
You just had to keep hacking away at it on your own and make it work. Somehow.
Even with a limit on spell impressions, the Chainers weren''t suffering. In fact, there was an entire multigenerational family full of them on Anesidora.
Which was one heck of a shock to Alden, since classes didn¡¯t run in families.
Avowed almost always married other Avowed. And more often than not, their children were chosen by the System. But though they tended to inherit ranks similar to their parents¡¯ own, naturally they couldn¡¯t inherit classes.
They got the same random selection as everyone else.
Gorgon had told Alden that Avowed sometimes had strong opinions about their children¡¯s class trades and got themselves overly involved. But this was something else.
Apparently, there were a few extended families on Anesidora that had managed to make sure almost every single one of their children ended up with the same class. It was usually done for the purpose of consolidating knowledge about the classes themselves, and it allowed the families to train children from birth with some degree of certainty about what their future would hold.
To get the classes they needed, these families took advantage of the trading option and offered hefty bonuses to purchase them when necessary.
The practice of class hoarding wasn¡¯t illegal. But it had become controversial in recent years. Not with the Artonans or with Earth¡¯s governments, but with the other Avowed on the island.
Alden mostly gleaned his information from opinion pieces in Anesidoran blogs and newspapers. Various columnists complained that the families in question were getting a little too good at managing their skill and spell selections. And then they complained even more about the fact that the hoarders wouldn¡¯t share insights into their classes with people other than their own relatives.
It just seems like a lot of sour grapes.
High-ranking superhumans complaining that it wasn¡¯t fair other high-ranking superhumans were getting extra-special advice about build refinement from their own parents was pretty far removed from the average person¡¯s reality.
Alden felt like he was reading angry letters written by billionaires who didn¡¯t like the fact that bigger billionaires existed.
The Chainer family¡ªthe Velras¡ªseemed to be one of the main targets of all the vitriol. And it quickly became obvious why.
They were collecting high-level wordchains by having every family member select different ones from the System. And because they were wordchains and not skills, they could be shared with the other family members very easily. The Velras were a huge deal on Anesidora, and the only reason Alden had never heard of them was because almost none of them were active superheroes.
Apparently Keiko was the rogue family member, choosing to do her own thing in Tokyo. All the other prominent members worked for the Anesidoran government or held positions on elite battle squads that were only called out to deal with massive emergencies and the occasional demon-squashing event.
And unlike other families going down the single-class route, the Velras were making a serious attempt to monopolize Chainer. They had somehow persuaded several Chainers they hadn¡¯t been able to claim in any other way to marry into their family. Others were associated with them by magical contract.
They¡¯d even adopted a few people.
Alden was seriously curious about what was going on with the class now. He was tempted to affix it just based on the fact that a family of superhumans had dedicated themselves to making sure nobody else got to play with it.
But he really didn¡¯t want one of the family¡¯s four S-ranks to swat him like a gnat the second he stepped foot on the island. Or force him to marry their children. Or slap a new surname on him.
Andrzej didn¡¯t want to sell the class to them because it would be a bad look for him and his Avowed uncle when they¡¯re so controversial right now.
That¡¯s why he told me I should pretend to be ignorant.
This was¡good for him. Really good. At least it was as long as Andrzej wasn¡¯t lying, and people weren¡¯t going to try to burn a clueless newb at the stake if he traded the class to the Velras.
So maybe what happens now is I contact them, they pay me a ton of money for the class, and then I use it to pay someone else for whatever one I want?
But what if they don¡¯t have any kids eligible to receive the class in the next three months? How does that¡ª
The sound of his cellphone ringing interrupted his thoughts. It was Boe.
¡°Hey,¡± Alden said, still staring at his computer. ¡°Did you know there¡¯s a family that collects the Chainer class on Anesidora? Like, most of the people on Earth who have access to it are related to them in some way?¡±
There was a moment of silence. Then, Boe said, ¡°Good morning to you, too. Why are you telling me about the Velras at the crack of dawn?¡±
Ah. That was unusual behavior.
¡°Sorry. Morning. What¡¯s up?¡±
¡°You. Apparently. I haven¡¯t even had coffee yet. I¡¯m calling to ask if you¡¯re coming to school today or if you want me to pick up your assignments?¡±
Alden¡¯s guts twisted uncomfortably. He had to tell his friends sometime. And Boe was probably the right one to tell first, since they¡¯d been friends longer.
He glanced toward the bakery counter. Nobody was there. The woman who¡¯d sold him the brownie was busy stocking the display case, and she kept disappearing into the kitchen.
¡°Alden? You there?¡±
¡°I¡got selected,¡± he muttered quietly.
The connection went dead silent. The tone of his voice must have been enough for Boe to guess what he was selected for.
But when his friend didn¡¯t reply immediately, Alden thought maybe he needed to say it more clearly. ¡°Yesterday. Right after that Hamlet quiz fiasco. I got chosen as one of the¡ª¡±
¡°Don¡¯t say it over the phone.¡± Boe¡¯s tone was hard to place, but if Alden had to, he¡¯d put it somewhere between annoyed and afraid.
Which seemed like a strange reaction. But Alden had wandered out of school yesterday, gotten lost, and then called a rideshare from the parking lot of a random podiatrist¡¯s office. So maybe the news was just the sort of thing that made everyone act a little off.
¡°Where are you right now?¡± Boe asked. ¡°With Gorgon?¡±
¡°I¡¯m at a bakery a few blocks away.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll come.¡±
Alden was startled. ¡°You don¡¯t have to. We can just meet up after school.¡±
¡°Have you pulled the trigger yet?¡±
Alden heard a series of loud bangs, as if his friend was opening and closing doors or drawers in rapid succession.
¡°I haven¡¯t affi¡ª¡±
¡°Don¡¯t say it over the phone. And good. I¡¯ll get dressed and be there in like an hour. Don¡¯t get excited and do anything stupid.¡±
¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±
Boe was already gone.
SEVENTEEN: Boe, Part Two
Boe, Part Two
¡°You¡¯re really skipping school for this?¡± Alden asked as Boe dragged a chair noisily across the tile floor toward his table.
Over the past hour, the bakery had filled with customers, and there was a steady buzz of conversation. Everyone seemed to be buying gooey, buttery cinnamon rolls the size of Alden¡¯s head, and he was trying not to resent them for it.
¡°It¡¯s no biggie. My GPA¡¯s so bloated from all the advanced classes they¡¯d have to fail me for a week straight before I even noticed.¡±
Boe tossed his ugly knitted scarf and a new, even uglier, knitted hat onto the table.
¡°Well, if we¡¯re both cutting should we call Jeremy? He¡¯ll feel left out.¡±
¡°No,¡± Boe said. ¡°He actually has parents who care about what he does. It¡¯ll upset them if we turn him into a truant.¡±
That was depressingly true.
Aunt Connie was Aunt Connie. If Alden dropped out of high school, she would be upset, but it would probably take her several weeks to notice it had happened.
And Boe¡¯s parents were chronically checked out. Alden had only been over to his house a few times when they were younger, and his father and mother had just sat staring at the tv for hours on end. Twelve-year-old Boe was the one who usually cooked meals and cleaned the house. It was an uncomfortable dynamic.
On the other hand, Jeremy¡¯s parents weren¡¯t quite helicopters, but they did regular family pancake breakfasts and came to take pictures of him and his older sister at every school event.
¡°This place has a nice vibe,¡± Boe noted as he sat down with a coffee. ¡°Hipster, but everyone¡¯s minding their own business. We should be good to talk here if we keep it quiet. So you got Chainer, then? What rank?¡±
Alden frowned at him. ¡°You know, I wasn¡¯t expecting you to be amazed or anything. But, you¡¯re being weirdly nonchalant about this. Except for the fact that you¡¯re apparently worried about phone tapping like we¡¯re in a spy movie.¡±
Boe shoved his glasses up on his nose, and then, in a deadpan voice, he said, ¡°Oh my God, Alden. You¡¯re the chosen one. Can I have your autograph to show my grandchildren one day?¡±
¡°Jeez, I should have told Jeremy first. You¡¯re such a buzzkill.¡±
Boe rolled his eyes.
But, in a slightly apologetic tone, he added, ¡°You¡¯re right. Sorry I¡¯m the rain at the parade. It¡¯s just that I am surprised, and I don¡¯t deal with sudden changes well. And I¡¯m a little pissed that you¡¯re probably going to run off to superhero land and leave me behind here.¡± He smiled bitterly. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed, but I¡¯m not great at making new friends.¡±
Alden squirmed in his seat. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯ll never see each other again. I¡¯ll call and bother you all the time. You¡¯ll get sick of hearing from me.¡±
¡°Everyone says things like that, but it never works out in the end.¡± Boe stared down at the coils of his scarf, and cleared his throat. ¡°Anyway, you have to give me the details. I¡¯ll have you know that my own childhood superhero obsession was epic, embarrassing, and not that long ago. You can¡¯t just keep all the good parts to yourself.¡±
Alden smiled. ¡°Well, like all the best origin stories, mine started in the bathroom of a public high school¡¡±
They talked quietly until the bakery people started glaring at them for taking up a table. Then, they moved their conversation to the streets.
¡°So you woke up early enough to steal Chainer right out from under the nose of some jerk in North Dakota. Nice. And lucky. Maybe lucky enough to make up for your shitty ranking.¡±
¡°Stop calling it that. It¡¯s top 15%. It¡¯s solid.¡±
¡°Solid if you wanted to be something normal. But you want to be an unpopular type of superhero. You¡¯ve already limited your options a lot by deciding on that. Major cities don¡¯t pay for solo sidekicks, and they aren¡¯t big on paying for pre-made pairs or teams. Throw the B-rank in, and you just look like a PR nightmare.¡±
¡°Rude.¡±
¡°Honest. Governments are cowards. They don¡¯t like new ideas. The State of Illinois may have said it supported Hannah Elber and Arjun Thomas after the Drainer incident, but it¡¯s totally why they were fired when their contracts came up for renewal. You know that. And they were an A and an S. B-rank is going to be hard. You¡¯re lucky the Polish guy was trying to offload the class fast without alienating anyone.¡±
¡°Yeah. You don¡¯t think Chainer¡¯s too much of a double-edged sword, though, do you? I don¡¯t want to get to Anesidora in a few months, register at a new school, and find out that all the island kids hate my guts because I sold the class to their ancestral enemies.¡±
¡°Nah,¡± said Boe, slapping the button for the crosswalk they were waiting at. ¡°That won¡¯t happen.¡±
¡°You sound confident.¡±
¡°It¡¯s because I¡¯m smart. I know things.¡±
¡°About superhuman politics?¡± Alden said doubtfully.
¡°Well, some. I¡¯m not an expert, but I know Bedlam Beldam is a big supporter of the Velra family. A lot of people are. It¡¯s all very dramatic. Like a superhero soap opera. They¡¯ve got just as many friends as they do enemies. So only half of your new schoolmates will hate you. Sixty percent of them tops.¡±
¡°Comforting.¡±
"And this Andrzej guy''s suggestion that you play dumb about it isn''t bad, right? Maybe you can pull off a miracle and sell it to one faction before the other one gets around to throwing their hat in the ring. They can''t complain if they think you''re a clueless outsider who didn''t even know they wanted it."
Alden frowned. "That sounds really hard to navigate. But yeah. It would be ideal."
Boe side-eyed him.
Then, with a sigh, he said, ¡°Listen, I know you¡¯ll want to take this the wrong way, but try to be open minded. You do realize you can just¡not play the game, don''t you? You haven¡¯t registered. And since I stopped you from shouting that you were an Avowed over the phone earlier¡ª¡±
¡°Wow. You really were worried about spies.¡±
¡°What? You think there isn¡¯t something scanning our calls for keywords?¡±
Alden honestly didn¡¯t know. ¡°I guess it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry?¡±
¡°Right. As I was saying, you¡¯ve only given your name to one person, and he probably won¡¯t even notice if you don¡¯t show up on Anesidora. He¡¯ll just assume you¡¯re in different academies. You could trade Chainer for some quiet little class, stay here in Chicago, and grow up to be an elementary school teacher.¡±
¡°An elementary school teacher?¡± Alden had respect for the job, but it had never featured on any of his to-do lists. ¡°Where¡¯d you get that from?¡±
¡°I think it suits you,¡± Boe said seriously. ¡°And you¡¯d still have super powers. You could take Audial Brute. I bet it¡¯d fix your tinnitus. And you¡¯d be a total pro at overhearing kids gossiping in your class. They¡¯d think you were psychic.¡±
¡°Boe¡ª¡±
¡°You¡¯d probably hardly ever get summoned, so you wouldn¡¯t be found out. What¡¯s the downside?¡±
Alden stopped walking. Boe did, too, but he wasn¡¯t quite meeting Alden¡¯s eyes.
¡°Gorgon said the same thing,¡± Alden said. ¡°About maybe not registering.¡±
¡°Ha. Did he really? Well, that¡¯s because it¡¯s not a bad idea.¡±
Alden wished, not for the first time since he¡¯d been selected, that his dreams of being a superhero had included a little less fantasy and a lot more reality. Maybe then he would know how to answer his friend. And how to handle the uncertainty inside him that was gradually turning into fear.
If I make a mistake here, I¡¯m screwing up my whole life.
He shivered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature.
He¡¯d enjoyed the distraction of focusing on the class trade. But now Boe had casually pointed out that even that wasn¡¯t a safe zone. If Alden made his presence too well known through the trades, people might get curious about him. They might look him up.
He couldn¡¯t have that if he planned to be an Avowed in hiding.
And if I did intend to be an illegal superhuman, I really would need ¡°a quiet little class.¡±
Alden¡¯s self control was okay, but it probably wasn¡¯t good enough to last a lifetime. If he had awesome powers, he was going to slip up and use them eventually. And if his physical stats were high enough, then even something unavoidable, like being involved in an accident, would out him.
People tended to notice if you got hit by a bus, and the vehicle came away from it with injuries worse than your own.
He and Boe stood together, while early morning traffic rushed past on the street beside them, for a long time.
Finally, Alden had an answer. ¡°I think I would regret it.¡±
Boe shoved his hands into his pocket and looked up at the sky. ¡°Which part?¡±
¡°The part where one day I¡¯m watching the news, and I see that some eight-year-old kid just lost their parents in a villain attack¡and I wonder if maybe in some small way it was my fault. Because I was supposed to be there, but I was too afraid to try for it.¡±
Alden exhaled sharply, his breath fogging in the cold.
¡°Yeah,¡± he added. ¡°I think I would regret it a lot.¡±
Boe had never been a warm and fuzzy sort of person. If anything, he¡¯d ranged from robotic to ill-tempered when Alden had first met him. It was only time that had brought out a few of his more human qualities.
He was loyal, sarcastic, funny¡
But for some reason it was only now, as Alden watched his friend¡¯s face twist into a forced smile, that he realized he had never once seen Boe look sad.
And he did look so sad. Nearly devastated.
For a second, it was like a cloud had passed between the two of them and the early morning sun.
Then the look was gone just as suddenly as it had come.
¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected anything different from you,¡± Boe groaned. He gave Alden a light punch on the arm. ¡°You¡¯re such a noble doofus for an otherwise smart guy. I honestly think you¡¯d probably feed me the same line if you were a useless freaking F-rank.¡±
¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± Alden said, still feeling off-footed by the strangely dark moment. ¡°I¡¯m not suicidal.¡±
¡°Sure you¡¯re not. Anyway, since you seem to be committed to playing superhero let¡¯s get to the consulate. I want to see the magic table.¡±
¡°Gorgon says you won¡¯t be able to access it.¡±
¡°It¡¯s still a magic table. How many chances am I going to get in my life to disrespect an important Artonan artifact?¡±
¡°Wow. Okay. No. If you break the table, Gorgon¡¯s supervisor will come for me, and she apparently consorts with demons.¡±
¡°Sounds hot.¡±
¡°Gross, you perv.¡±
Boe laughed. ¡°Anyway, what was your special clue?¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°From the demon you consort with. You said you thought he was giving you a hint about what class you should choose. That should be your number one priority. Classes are way less figured out than everyone likes to think. If an Artonan prisoner was setting himself on fire to give me hints, I¡¯d run with them.¡±
¡°Let me take your luggage.¡±
Alden had the pleasure of seeing Boe look just as baffled as he had been the night before.
¡°Huh?¡± he asked.
¡°Let me take your luggage.¡±
Boe¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°Oh. That¡¯s the clue?¡±
¡°My best guess is that he had to be vague. I think maybe it¡¯s a metaphor.¡±
¡°I bet it¡¯s an anagram,¡± Boe mused.
¡°You just want it to be an anagram because you like puzzles.¡±
¡°Eulogy. Mettle gauger. AK.¡±
¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Alden. ¡°Are we speaking in tongues now?¡±
¡°Shut up. It¡¯s a really good solve for first thing in the morning. Clearly eulogy is about Hannah¡¯s funeral tomorrow. Afterwards, you¡¯re supposed to travel to Alaska and gauge your mettle. Duh.¡±
Alden laughed.
¡°Rogue eagle amulet?¡± Boe muttered as he squinted into the distance. ¡°No, that¡¯s not it. I can¡¯t make anything with the remaining letters.¡±
¡°You¡¯re literally making the sentence more obscure, man. I was hoping you¡¯d help me simplify the problem, not¡¡±
Boe was a few steps ahead before he realized Alden wasn¡¯t keeping pace with him anymore. He turned back. ¡°You coming?¡±
Alden gave himself a shake and hurried to catch up. ¡°I just realized¡what if I¡¯ve been putting too much thought into it, too? What if Gorgon was actually keeping it really simple for the dumb human? What if it¡¯s a spell name? Or a skill?¡±
Boe¡¯s eyebrows lifted. ¡°Well, yeah. That would make it way easier. Some classes do have eccentric talent names. Full sentences are less common, but they¡¯re a thing.¡±
¡°Right?¡± Alden was getting excited now. ¡°There¡¯s an Adjuster spell called ¡®Hold my hand until sunset.¡¯¡±
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
It was an unpopular capture spell that magically glued your hand to your target¡¯s.
¡°How romantic,¡± Boe said dryly. But then, with a bit more enthusiasm, he added, ¡°Beldam has a passive called ¡®Cats are better in nines.¡¯¡±
¡°See! I bet I¡¯m right. I¡¯ve never heard of one called ¡®Let me get your luggage,¡¯ though.¡±
¡°Me either. And the sentence names are memorable. Since we don¡¯t know it, it¡¯s probably not often used. Which would mean it could only belong to one of the classes that gets a stupidly long skill or spell list.¡±
¡°People still haven¡¯t tried out everything on the Adjuster spell list,¡± Alden said hopefully. ¡°So maybe?¡±
¡°I think you¡¯d have read about it if it was an Adjuster spell, you mage geek,¡± Boe replied. ¡°If it was a B-rank specific one you might have missed it, but¡it could be Wright? They get so many skills to choose from they say their list looks like the Oxford English. That one S-rank spent two years trying to pick the best one from it when she hit Level 10, and nobody thought it was a waste of time.¡±
¡°Yeah.¡± Alden frowned. ¡°If we¡¯re on the right track, it would most likely be Wright or one of the rares. The other major classes have fairly narrow lists at B-rank. Shaper¡¯s a maybe, but it doesn¡¯t sound anything like one of their skills.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not Shaper.¡± Boe¡¯s tone was dismissive. ¡°Their stuff is all kind of obvious as far as System naming goes. If anything, it sounds like it might be a¡ª¡±
¡°A what?¡±
Boe suddenly grabbed onto the sleeve of Alden¡¯s coat and stopped walking. ¡°Is that who I think it is?¡± he asked quietly, staring ahead of them.
There were quite a few people on the sidewalk. Alden scanned them, looking for someone suspicious, but before he could identify the problem, Boe hissed, ¡°The man across the street from the consulate! The one trying to look normal while he stands around in board shorts in February.¡±
Alden finally spotted the board short wearer. ¡°Oh, my gosh! It¡¯s Skiff!¡±
The water-shaping superhero looked out of place here in a business district, wearing street clothes.
Well, mostly wearing street clothes. The swim trunks didn¡¯t really go with Skiff¡¯s puffer jacket.
¡°Shush, fanboy. Take my hat.¡±
Before Alden could ask why he should do that, his friend had shoved the hideous stocking hat onto his head.
¡°So,¡± said Boe in a conversational voice as he yanked off his scarf and wrapped it around the entire lower half of Alden¡¯s face. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re not as smart as we think we are. You said the trading interface listed locations, and I didn¡¯t think anything of it. And I guess you didn¡¯t either.¡±
Behind his new muffler, Alden frowned. ¡°Yeah. But ids are private.¡±
¡°Sure. Only they¡¯re not very, are they? To find out who someone is in real life you¡¯d just have to go to the consulate they were trading from and wait for a teenager to appear during regular school hours.¡±
Alden¡¯s eyes widened. Crap.
He hadn¡¯t realized how valuable Chainer was to certain parties when he¡¯d left this morning. He¡¯d have taken the listing down if he¡¯d known. He hadn¡¯t authorized autotrade of course, but his information was there for anyone to see. Advertising was the whole point of the platform. It had never occurred to him that he shouldn¡¯t do it.
¡°Bud vey canf do vad?¡± he protested around a mouthful of wool as Boe tightened the scarf. ¡°Wha ¡®boud my privafy?¡±
¡°Even in an ideal world, your civilian right to privacy is only good for the next three months,¡± Boe said quietly, stepping back. ¡°In reality? You get it¡ right?¡±
Alden did. He didn¡¯t like it, but he did.
It would only take a phone call.
Once someone from Anesidora had seen the listing¡ªwhether they were for or against the Velra family¡ªthey could just call up one of their friends on the Chicago hero team and ask them to run down and have a look at the consulate. See if any likely young people strolled in at an odd hour.
Follow them home. Find out who they are. Kill them in their sleep.
Okay. That last was ridiculous.
Probably whichever faction they belonged to, all they¡¯d really want was to give Alden lots of nice stuff in exchange for Chainer.
Which would have been great, except for the fact that he didn¡¯t just want nice stuff. He wanted nice stuff without becoming involved in superhuman politics.
Even Gorgon couldn¡¯t keep him out of it. Bribery and social pressure were apparently fine with the Artonans. The alien would only be allowed to step in if people were threatening or mind controlling him.
¡°New plan,¡± said Boe, still speaking quietly. ¡°We walk right past the Aquatic Idiot and head for the bus stop. Even if your nemesis in North Dakota happens to work for someone on the island and he described you to them, you don¡¯t have any noteworthy features that¡¯ll stand out when you¡¯re bundled up in winter wear. We should be good.¡±
Alden hadn¡¯t considered that B74 might have ratted him out. But it was possible at least. He did live in the Dakota zone, so he was connected to the Avowed community if not the island itself.
¡°Leff go,¡± said Alden. He coughed and worked his lips until they were mostly free of the scarf. ¡°We¡¯ll catch Skiff¡¯s attention if we stand here too long.¡±
###
¡°Quit turning around to look out the back window, Alden. You¡¯re not going to see an A-rank Shaper chasing the bus down the street in his swim trunks.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t think I was,¡± Alden lied as he spun back around in his seat. ¡°I¡¯m just making sure we made a clean getaway.¡±
¡°We did. I told you. He didn¡¯t even glance at us. I think he was playing Sweet Smasher on his phone.¡±
¡°I couldn¡¯t use my peripheral vision because someone mummified me with wool.¡±
¡°Well, mine worked fine. You¡¯re in the clear for now.¡±
Alden grumbled, but he did his best to let himself relax. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it to be like this. So chaotic. I wanted time to think and plan.¡±
Boe slouched down and wedged his feet against the back of the seat in front of him. He pulled out his own cell and started typing. ¡°It¡¯s exciting being a superhuman, right? You were only chosen¡nineteen hours ago? And you¡¯ve already made a pal in Poland, discovered the consulate¡¯s secret basement level, and possibly sparked a minor political war between Anesidora¡¯s social elite.¡±
Alden snorted. ¡°Imagine what I¡¯ll do next week.¡±
¡°Hopefully you¡¯ll have quietly acquired your final class by then, affixed it, and be in the middle of learning how to use your new powers. You need to get at least a little prepped before you dive into the Anesidoran shark tank. Any other outcome means you¡¯ve screwed up.¡±
Alden raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°How do you figure? Even if I find out what Gorgon meant, it¡¯ll probably take me a while to get my hands on the specific class. And then I don¡¯t have to affix it right away. I could still hang around on the trading platform in case something amazing came along.¡±
¡°More amazing than Chainer? The class that has you looking over your shoulder for a legit superhero tail? Or more amazing than a class recommended for you, specifically, by a powerful alien being you¡¯ve spent the last few months befriending?¡±
¡°Well¡¡±
¡°Mmm,¡± Boe said, his lips pursing. ¡°So you¡¯re still hung up on Adjuster.¡±
Guess I¡¯m transparent. ¡°It¡¯s the obvious choice for what I want to do.¡±
¡°You mean it¡¯s the class Hannah had.¡±
There was no judgment in Boe¡¯s voice, but Alden felt defensive anyway. ¡°It¡¯s not just that.¡±
Boe set aside his phone and glanced out the smudged window. ¡°I know. Adjuster¡¯s easy¡ª¡±
¡°It¡¯s one of the most complex classes to master!¡±
¡°Don¡¯t fly off the handle. I mean it¡¯s easy for you. Emotionally. It¡¯s the one you know the best. You like tons of things about it. It excites you. And you actually have a real-life, extremely personal example of someone using it in a way you admire. If the System had given you Adjuster yesterday afternoon, you¡¯d have affixed it before you left that bathroom stall.¡±
Alden couldn¡¯t argue with that. He probably would have.
¡°Adjuster¡¯s not scary for you,¡± Boe continued. ¡°You¡¯re a shitty B-rank and that makes your future even harder to grasp, so it¡¯s probably the only class you feel sure won¡¯t be garbage.¡±
¡°B¡¯s not shitty,¡± Alden muttered again.
But his heart wasn¡¯t in it.
He¡¯d been so wrapped-up in new experiences that he hadn¡¯t analyzed his own feelings very well. And now that Boe had done it for him¡
¡°You¡¯re right. I guess. I¡wanted to be an S or A-rank Adjuster. I know that¡¯s lame to admit. But it¡¯s the only thing I really imagined for the whole superhero daydream.¡± He sighed. ¡°Right now, it feels like I¡¯m scrabbling at the edge of what I want. If I could just get my hands on Adjuster, part of me thinks I would finally be standing on solid ground.¡±
¡°You can have it if you want it.¡±
¡°Maybe. If I sell Chainer to the Velras, or their enemies, I could probably get enough money to pay off any Adjusters who want to trade. But there might not be any even then¡ª¡±
He was interrupted by the sound of Boe laughing at him.
¡°Is my suffering amusing to you?¡± he said, put out.
¡°No, but your total lack of business acumen is. Are you serious? Alden, they sent a freaking superhero to find you. Within a couple of hours. Even though I knew a little bit about the situation, I would never have guessed it was that important to them. But now that I do¡¡±
Boe crossed his arms over his stomach and smiled up at the bus¡¯s grimy ceiling.
¡°You¡¯re not going to trade Chainer for money and then sit around hoping you¡¯ll be able to buy your dream class with it. You¡¯re going to tell someone what class you want, and then they will fetch it for you like a golden retriever.¡±
Alden blinked. ¡°That can¡¯t be right¡¡±
¡°We¡¯re talking about powerful, rich Avowed. Ones who¡¯ve managed to maintain an iron grip on an ultra rare class despite other powerful, rich Avowed trying to stop them. As long as you don¡¯t ask for something impossible, then I bet they¡¯ve got the budget for it. And the resources to lay their hands on it. It¡¯s what they do for their own kids. They can do it for you, too.¡±
¡°So you think I should give it to the Velras?¡±
Boe shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t really care about which side of that little spat wins. Do you?¡±
¡°Nah,¡± Alden admitted. ¡°It¡¯s like trying to pick a team when you don¡¯t even understand what sport they¡¯re playing. I just want them to not ruin my life after the fact.¡±
¡°You could sneak past Skiff into the consulate when it¡¯s busy¡or even better, head to the consulate in New York where there probably isn¡¯t a super waiting to pull you aside and give you a speech about his faction¡¯s noble cause or whatever. Slap Chainer up to autotrade in exchange for your pick, and then vanish. Let them, or even some lucky selectee off the street, race to give you what you want first.¡±
¡°That sounds perfect,¡± Alden admitted.
¡°Can you request a bonus with the autotrade though? You didn¡¯t mention it.¡±
Alden shook his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s just for classes. People always ask for, or offer, money separately. In their notes section. It¡¯s probably something you¡¯d have to make legally binding outside the trading platform. And then you get online and do the trade.¡±
¡°That¡¯s a problem then,¡± Boe said.
¡°I don¡¯t need money on top of a specific class.¡±
His friend gave him a severe look. ¡°Last I checked, you wren¡¯t swimming in cash.¡±
¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t have to be. School is paid for on the island, and you have to stay in the dorms the first couple of years anyway. I¡¯ll have a little bit from my parents. It¡¯ll be fine.¡±
¡°It would be way more fine if you didn¡¯t sell the extremely valuable thing you¡¯re holding for nothing. Being poor sucks.¡±
¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±
¡°What about supplies for your hero work?¡±
Alden blinked. He hadn¡¯t thought that far ahead. He would be a student first. Working as superhero was still a long way away.
¡°You don¡¯t even know what you¡¯ll need,¡± Boe continued. ¡°You might need to buy weapons. Or chemicals. Or an armored vehicle. You might get a power that requires some expensive resource to shine. You might¡ª¡±
Alden held up a hand. ¡°All right. I get it. Some money on top of the class would be better. Then¡if I¡¯m not going to be totally neutral, I guess the Velras are the way to go?¡±
¡°They¡¯re the perennial champs as far as I can tell. And you¡¯d think they¡¯d have a pretty decent non-disclosure agreement for the people who help them out, or whatever the Anesidoran equivalent is. As long as you trade it to them quickly, before other parties have the chance to tell you not to, you might still be able to feign innocence. I bet they¡¯ll keep their mouths shut.¡±
Boe seemed to be in high spirits now, apparently lifted by the thought of Alden bossing around an elite family of Avowed for even the briefest period of time.
¡°So!¡± he said cheerfully. ¡°All you have to do is decide: Do you want your hunting dogs to get you Adjuster? Or do you want them to get you whatever Gorgon recommended?¡±
¡°Do I have to pick?¡±
¡°Afraid so. Unless you want to say ¡®to hell with it¡¯ and affix Chainer right now. Just think¡.you could have new, uber-rich adoptive parents by nightfall. Whether you want them or not.¡±
¡°That¡¯s terrifying.¡±
Alden contemplated the pattern on the bus seats while he tried to sort himself out. When Boe put it like this, it really was an either-or situation.
Did Alden trust his own knowledge more than Gorgon¡¯s advice?
The alien knew what he wanted to do. They¡¯d talked about battlefield support. Gorgon had said that they weren¡¯t real friends but that he was fond of Alden and wished him well.
They¡¯d done the mysterious blood thing.
And while Alden knew Gorgon wasn¡¯t all-knowing, he was probably more-knowing than most humans.
¡°I guess I¡¯d have to go with Gorgon¡¯s suggestion. If we can even figure out what it is.¡±
¡°You guess?¡±
¡°Ugh. Fine. I¡¯m sure. Gorgon is frying his skin off for me. I trust him, and I don''t have to be married to Adjuster. I can leave it behind if I have to.¡±
¡°Well, brace yourself for a rocky divorce,¡± Boe said merrily. ¡°The desk demon¡¯s idea of a great class for a future superhero is pretty far outside the norm.¡±
Alden stared at him.
¡°That¡¯s what I was looking up on my cell a minute ago.¡± Boe lifted the phone from his lap. ¡°I was wrong about the anagrams. And you were right. He was trying to make it easy for you. ¡®Let me take your luggage¡¯ is a skill from one of those classes that gets to choose from a bajillion of them.¡±
¡°Oh my god. Which one?¡± Alden asked, sitting up straighter. His heart was starting to race.
¡°You know that movie where the girl gets a job as a personal assistant to a megalomaniacal fashion magazine editor? And her boss tortures her, but it¡¯s all right because she gets to wear great clothes?¡±
¡°Boe, now¡¯s not the time¡ª¡±
¡°Have you ever imagined what that chick¡¯s life would have been like if she had millions of evil bosses and they could all summon her by snapping their fingers?¡±
¡°Boe!¡±
Alden snatched the phone away from him and stared at the screen.
Boe had pulled up a skill list. It was massive. Alden recognized nothing on it, and he had to scroll for a comically long time to get to the top of the page and read the class name.
When he finally managed to, he stared at it in shock.
Boe leaned over and patted him on the arm. ¡°Congrats, man. It¡¯s rare and popular. You¡¯re lucky the Velras are the ones who¡¯ll have to nab it for you.¡±
Alden couldn¡¯t pull his eyes away from the screen, but he knew from Boe¡¯s voice that his friend was wearing an evil grin.
¡°I mean, it¡¯s also the very definition of a noncombat class since the Artonans created it because they wanted magical housekeepers and secretaries. But I hear the pay is fantastic.¡±
¡°What the hell?¡± Alden whispered.
Glaring at him from the top of the screen in poorly-chosen bubble font were the words Skill List ¡ª B-Rank ¡ª Class: Rabbit.
EIGHTEEN: Interlude - Rabbit
Interlude:
Rabbit
¡°All right, y¡¯all!¡± said Ms. Jensen, smiling as she took in the class full of over-energized second graders. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about recess, but I can¡¯t turn off the rain for you. We¡¯ll have read-aloud time and play some games afterward. How does that sound?¡±
¡°Boring!¡± one boy shouted, rocking back and forth so hard his desk clacked against the floor.
¡°Good,¡± a few kids said, their eyes already on the stack of board games in one corner of the classroom.
¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± the class¡¯s goody-two-shoes replied, clasping her hands primly in her lap.
From his seat behind the girl, Alden Thorn raised his hand, stretching for the ceiling.
¡°Thank you for sitting so politely in your seat, Alden. Did you have a question?¡±
¡°Can you read from the book about superheroes?¡± he asked quickly.
¡°No, I want the dragon book!¡± another boy protested.
¡°I want¡ª!¡±
Ms. Jensen held her hand up for silence. When the children finally calmed down, she said, ¡°I think Alden should get to choose since he asked first. And since his family will be leaving Nashville soon to head to Chicago. Doesn¡¯t that sound fair?¡±
A few people grumbled, but not many. Superheroes weren¡¯t a bad choice, as far as rainy day reading material went.
The teacher pulled the familiar book out from under a stack of papers on her desk and took her seat at the front of the room. ¡°Okay, who remembers which class of Avowed we read about last time?¡±
¡°Meister,¡± the girl sitting in front of Alden said promptly.
Alden lowered his hand in disappointment.
¡°That¡¯s right, Clara. So, let¡¯s see¡oh, today¡¯s class is one of the rares! Isn¡¯t that exciting? Who knows what a Rabbit does?¡±
¡°My daddy says they¡¯re rich.¡±
¡°My daddy says they¡¯re cowards.¡±
¡°You¡¯re wrong!¡± Clara said in an uncharacteristic shout. ¡°That¡¯s a bad thing to call any of the Avowed. They¡¯re brave, and they fight demons and bad guys for us, and my momma says only dissants say mean things about them because they¡¯re jealous not everyone gets powers!¡±
The whole class had started whispering. Ms. Jensen¡¯s smile was getting thinner by the second.
¡°Settle down!¡± she called. ¡°Remember that conversation we¡¯ve had a few times this year? About how we will try to think our own thoughts in class and not only repeat what we¡¯ve heard from others?¡±
Clara gasped. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean our parents, does it?¡±
The teacher cleared her throat. ¡°Let¡¯s all learn from this nice book,¡± she said. ¡°And not talk about things like dissidents anymore.¡±
Before anyone could protest, she started reading.
###
from A Children¡¯s Encyclopedia of the Avowed
(Interviews with real supherhumans in every chapter!)
You¡¯ve probably heard of the classes we¡¯ve talked about so far, but have you ever heard of a Rabbit?
No, not the cute and cuddly animal you might have for a pet!
Rabbit is a funny-sounding name for an Avowed class that is just as serious and important as all the others in this book. Rabbits offer their service to make Earth and Artona better places, just like all the other superhumans here!
The Interdimensional Warriors Contract isn¡¯t just for people who fight villains here on Earth and wherever else they might be called to by our Artonan friends.
We¡¯ve already met some healers. Let¡¯s learn about another class that does special work away from the dangers of the battlefield!
But first, where did the name ¡°Rabbit¡± come from? To answer that question, we¡¯ve asked Honorable Ty-krol, a biologist from Artona 2, to explain:
The Ryeh-b¡¯t is a small flying reptile, native to Artona 3. It was domesticated more than twenty thousand years ago, and it has since become a popular companion animal throughout the Triplanets and on many of our resource worlds.
The Ryeh-b¡¯t is known for being swift, clever, and easily trained. Many Artonan children enjoy using their pet Ryeh-b¡¯ts to send gifts and messages to their friends.
Stolen story; please report.
Though normally it is unacceptable to call sentient beings by animal names, the Ryeh-b¡¯t is so beloved that it has become common practice to refer to particularly helpful children or useful junior members of business organizations as ¡°Little Ryeh-b¡¯ts.¡±
The Ryeh-b¡¯t class exists on every Artonan resource world. Humans who are chosen as Ryeh-b¡¯ts usually use their skills to work as assistants and errand-runners on the Triplanets. Their powers might not be as flashy as a superhero¡¯s, but they are summoned to help out the Artonans more often than any other class!
When the System first came to Earth in 1963, the word Ryeh-b¡¯t and the way members of the class are prone to disappearing in a flash when they¡¯re summoned, made English-speakers think of rabbits.
The name quickly entered common use, and the System adjusted it to accommodate human preferences.
Now, our friendly interviewer Steven will talk to A-rank Rabbit Maryam Musa about this interesting class.
###
Steven: Hi, Ms. Musa! Our young readers would love to know more about you and Rabbits in general. How long have you been a Rabbit?
Maryam: I was chosen seventeen years ago.
S: What are some good things about the class?
M: If you select a valuable skill, you get summoned more than other superhumans. Rabbits do a wide variety of different jobs, and they usually receive Argold for their services.
S: That¡¯s the System currency! So, are Rabbits rich?
M: Well, the ones who select a good skill. Not all of them.
S: Is the money your favorite thing about being a Rabbit?
M: No. I like my starter skill the best.
S: What kind of skill is it, Ms. Musa?
M: I fold napkins into decorative shapes. When I first became an Avowed, I could only manage a few, but now I can do hundreds of them per hour.
S: What an unusual skill! Are most Rabbit skills like that?
M: I don¡¯t know about every skill. But skills like mine are interesting because they can help you do complicated things very quickly.
S: I guess you use your powers to help at important parties and banquets on the Triplanets?
M: That¡¯s one of the things I¡¯m often summoned for.
S: So you¡¯re like a party planner! That is a fun job.
M: No. I don¡¯t plan things. I just fold.
S: Some of our readers may not realize how important that is, but the Artonans greatly value beauty. I¡¯m sure they appreciate your skill very much!
M: People don¡¯t understand because they don¡¯t think about it. Not really. There¡¯s a lot that goes into folding a napkin.
S: I bet! Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Musa. I¡¯m sure many children will want to become a Rabbit after reading our interview!
###
In Ms. Jensen¡¯s classroom, the second graders had all fallen silent. Most of them had looks of consternation on their faces. A few were smiling uncertainly, as if they thought their teacher might have told them a joke but they weren¡¯t quite confident enough to laugh about it.
Clara raised her hand. ¡°Can¡¯t¡can¡¯t regular people fold napkins into pretty shapes?¡±
¡°They can!¡± another girl said confidently. ¡°I went on a cruise, and the napkins were all folded! They don¡¯t need super powers for that!¡±
¡°But the Rabbit lady is rich. That¡¯s good?¡± a boy said.
¡°I wanna be rich.¡±
¡°My daddy is rich.¡±
¡°I want to be a superhero who shoots fire out of my face.¡±
Alden raised his hand.
Closing the book, Ms. Jensen smiled at him. ¡°Everyone please notice how Alden and Clara raise their hands! Yes, Alden? Did you like the interview with Ms. Musa?¡±
¡°I¡¯m confused,¡± he said. ¡°Why do the Artonans need somebody to fold napkins for them? Can¡¯t they do it themselves?¡±
¡°Well¡¡± Ms. Jensen tucked her hair behind her ears and bit her lip, apparently thinking about the question. ¡°I know everyone is very excited about super powers. When we see a brave hero protecting us from bad people or we hear about them saving someone from a disaster, all of our attention is on them. But the world needs all kinds of helpers, doesn¡¯t it?¡±
Clara raised her hand again.
¡°Yes, Clara?¡±
¡°Last week you taught us about want and need!¡± she said proudly. ¡°Want and need are different.¡±
¡°That¡¯s true, but¡ª¡±
¡°Pretty napkins is a want isn¡¯t it?¡±
¡°It is,¡± one of her friends agreed.
¡°I think so, too.¡±
¡°Maybe it¡¯s a need if it¡¯s for a wedding? My cousin¡¯s getting married. I¡¯m going to be the flower girl!¡±
¡°Artonans have weddings too!¡±
¡°My momma says sometimes they have three brides and grooms at a time.¡±
¡°That¡¯s bad.¡±
¡°No it¡¯s not! Three¡¯s my favorite number.¡±
¡°All right, y¡¯all. I think we¡¯re getting a little bit off track. Let¡¯s all take a minute to think of good things Rabbit Avowed can do for the world! Whoever comes up with the best answer will get a new pencil from the pencil box.¡±
This challenge earned Ms. Jensen a few blissful minutes of quiet while everyone wrote down their best guesses.
Alden, who had no knowledge of Rabbits beyond what he had just learned, answered that they could probably fold lots of towels for hotels. Which would be good for the hotels, since if you didn¡¯t fold the towels your guests would hate you.
Clara won because she knew that there was a Rabbit on the Anesidoran High Council, and he helped to make important laws for superhumans on the island.
¡°Laws are a need, not a want!¡± she announced righteously as she marched back to her desk with her prize pencil.
¡°It¡¯s not fair,¡± Alden muttered.
Lawmaking didn¡¯t have anything to do with the Rabbit¡¯s superpower. Which was the whole point of the assignment in his opinion.
Rabbits are dumb. Who would ever want to be one of those?
NINETEEN: Teleport
¡°Alden, stop typing ¡®What are Rabbits good for?¡¯ into the search bar. It¡¯s getting a little pathetic.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll stop typing it in when the answer stops being nothing.¡±
¡°What about that S-rank who used his floor polishing skill to create an iceless skating rink on the island? You said it was neat.¡±
¡°I know! It¡¯s cool. And I¡¯m not dumb. I see that the power has much wider applications than you¡¯d notice at first glance. But it¡¯s also his only skill. He¡¯s twenty-five. He¡¯s an S. It¡¯s his only one. What the hell, Boe?¡±
Boe shrugged and threw a gum wrapper at Jeremy, who was standing by Alden¡¯s bedroom window staring at them both with a stupefied look on his face.
¡°Maybe S isn¡¯t as all-powerful as people make it out to be,¡± Boe said. ¡°Anyway, Rabbits have a soft restriction on receiving talents as quest rewards, right? They have to level if they want skills and spells. That guy didn¡¯t. He¡¯s just lazy. Doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±
¡°But, Alden¡ how did you become an Avowed?¡± Jeremy said for the fifth time that afternoon.
They¡¯d asked him to meet them at Alden¡¯s place after school and told him everything. Unlike Boe, he was not processing the situation well.
¡°You broke him, Alden. He¡¯s lost his entire vocabulary except for that one question.¡±
¡°Jeremy,¡± Alden said, clicking on the twelfth page of search results. ¡°Sit down, man. Boe will explain it to you.¡±
¡°Why me?¡±
Alden gestured at his computer. ¡°I¡¯m busy.¡±
¡°Once you go past the third page of results you¡¯re not busy,¡± said Boe. ¡°You¡¯re panicking.¡±
¡°No I¡¯m not.¡±
He was.
He¡¯d already decided to go through with it. He trusted Gorgon. He knew he was going to do it. But at the same time, there was a voice in his head screaming, I don¡¯t wanna be a Rabbit! They¡¯re lame and stupid and boring! They¡¯re not heroes; they¡¯re napkin-folders!
And though he¡¯d been trying for hours, Alden couldn¡¯t find a single piece of information that would make his inner second grader even a little bit happier.
¡°We''ll be rich. Isn¡¯t that nice?¡± he muttered.
¡°Great. Now you¡¯ve broken yourself. Are you using the royal we?¡±
¡°I¡¯m giving my inner brat a pep talk. It¡¯s a private conversation.¡±
But it didn¡¯t work. Even the wealth Rabbits were famous for wasn¡¯t a guarantee. They were summoned to the Triplanets a couple of times a month if they had normal luck. When they were there, they usually performed a small magical task their skill was uniquely suited for. They finished up in a few hours and bounced back to Earth with a decent amount of Argold in their account.
Translated into dollars, the average annual Rabbit salary was around half a million. For almost zero work.
But that was the average. The Artonans weren¡¯t obligated to summon anyone. Plenty of Rabbits were flat broke. Maybe Alden would be one of them.
People had barely scratched the surface of the skill lists for Rabbit, and of course the basic descriptions that were provided pre-affixation were as vague as they were for most classes. The smart thing to do was choose one of the starter skills that had already been safely trail-blazed for you by an older Rabbit.
There were about thirty that were generally agreed to be sure bets, and the vast majority of people picked them these days.
After all, if you wanted to live dangerously you¡¯d trade into a different class.
¡°Everyone¡¯s going to think I¡¯m a bum,¡± Alden groaned as he clicked through the social media account of a seventeen-year-old A-ranker Rabbit who was famous for declaring herself retired before she¡¯d graduated high school.
¡°And what¡¯s with this skill? Nobody¡¯s ever picked it before. Did you guys see the description?¡±
Whatever generous B-rank had taken the time to type up the entire Rabbit skill list deserved a standing ovation. It must have taken hours.
And there, right in the middle of it, was Gorgon¡¯s recommendation:
[Let Me Take Your Luggage ¡ª Rank: B]
The Rabbit carries an item that has been entrusted to them.
¡°The System¡¯s such a jerk. What does this even do? Does it make you stronger? Does it boost stamina? Does it give you an extra set of arms so you can hold more bags?¡± Alden slapped the laptop shut in frustration.
¡°That last one would be hilarious,¡± Boe said with a snicker.
He was sitting on the floor by the bed, flipping through a stack of old magazines he¡¯d taken from the enormous pile Aunt Connie kept in the living room.
Beside him, Jeremy had finally recovered enough to give a shaky laugh.¡°How would he buy shirts?¡±
¡°He¡¯ll have ¡®em custom tailored with all his Argold.¡±
¡°Maybe he could buy them from Wardrobe?¡±
Alden smiled and groaned. ¡°Don¡¯t remind me about Wardrobe. It¡¯s such a bizarro perk.¡±
¡°Hey, it¡¯s pretty sweet to have easy access to armor,¡± said Boe. ¡°Nobody else gets that except for a few of the hardcore battle subclasses. And even they don¡¯t get it before leveling.¡±
¡°Armor? I think you mean alien cosplay. And have you seen what they cost?¡±
¡°That''s why you''re asking for money up front in addition to the class. And the clothes in the Wardrobe do increase stats. That makes them armor.¡±
Jeremy blinked owlishly up at Alden. ¡°Are you really going to pick Rabbit? You don¡¯t seem like a Rabbit to me.¡±
¡°Thanks, Jeremy. And yeah. Boe accused me of being a coward earlier today¡ª¡±
¡°I said you were clinging to Adjuster out of fear. Not that you were fundamentally a coward.¡±
¡°So I¡¯m going to prove him wrong by bravely choosing Rabbit!¡± Alden said, ignoring Boe and holding a hand to his chest in what he hoped was a mock-heroic pose. ¡°A class well-known for its valor!¡±
¡°Well, you have to get it first, Mr. Bravery. Stop agonizing and compose your letter to the Velras. Make it good.¡±
¡°Quick question,¡± Jeremy said. ¡°Did you two try emailing them? The letter¡¯s going to be awesome, but if Alden wants an answer fast¡¡±
It was silly, but Alden was comforted by the fact that they were both acting like sending the letter was a group project. He¡¯d been worried that telling them he¡¯d been selected would create an insurmountable gap in their friendship.
It was hard, knowing he¡¯d see so much less of them in the future.
Boe¡¯s right. It¡¯s never the same when someone moves away.
But for now, they had business to attend to.
He turned to Jeremy. ¡°I actually tried a System call, but it told me I was unauthorized. And we can¡¯t find a way to contact them quickly online. We wanted to send an email to Aulia Velra. She¡¯s the S-rank in charge of the family. But she¡¯s kind of a huge deal. She ran for President of the Anesidoran High Council a few years ago."
¡°She didn¡¯t come close to winning,¡± Boe chimed in, ¡°but she¡¯s still not someone who lists her personal e-mail address online for any rando in the world to find.¡±
¡°And we sent a test email to her public one, but it just gave us an autoreply,¡± Alden said. ¡°She¡¯s probably got some overworked PA going through hundreds of messages a day. Since I¡¯m going to go to Anesidora tomorrow anyway, we thought I could try to mail a letter from there to one of the less senior family members. It¡¯ll be way quicker if I toss it in a mailbox or hire a delivery service on the island itself. It can take ages for mail to get there from the US. I tried to send Hannah a Christmas card once, and it arrived in mid-January.¡±
¡°Alden, just write the message,¡± said Boe. ¡°Make sure to include all of our demands and all the relevant details. Jeremy, the time has come. Go find scissors and glue sticks.¡±
Jeremy jumped up.
¡°Why do we need scissors and glue?¡± Alden asked. ¡°I was going to type the message and print it out at the library.¡±
He¡¯d already bookmarked a page on professional letter writing so he could make sure he formatted it properly.
¡°Boooo,¡± said Boe. ¡°Boring. It¡¯s an anonymous note to the leaders of a superhuman faction who are desperately trying to find you. Have you no aesthetic sensibilities?¡±
¡°Dude, we¡¯re going to make a collage out of words from your aunts¡¯ magazines!¡± Jeremy said. He sounded thrilled about it.
Alden gaped at them. How had he missed this particular plan developing?
¡°What is wrong with you two? No. You want to make the critically important letter out of chopped-up magazines? That¡¯ll make me look like a serial killer!¡±
¡°It¡¯ll be funny,¡± said Boe, waving one of the magazines at him.
¡°It¡¯s hilarious!¡± Jeremy agreed. ¡°They find out you exist. They think you¡¯re just some random guy in Illinois. They send Skiff after you¡ª¡±
¡°He could be working for someone else. And I am just some random guy in Illinois.¡±
Jeremy didn¡¯t seem to hear him. ¡°And the next day¡ª¡± he snapped his fingers, ¡°¡ªa letter sent from the island shows up on their doorstep that¡¯s like, ¡®Haha, assholes. I know you think you¡¯re smarter than me, but you¡¯ll never find out who I am!¡¯¡±
Jeremy beamed and leaned over to give Boe a high-five.
¡°You idiots!¡± Alden said. But he couldn¡¯t keep the laughter out of his voice. ¡°That¡¯s so ridiculous. Even if the letter¡¯s anonymous, they¡¯ll still be able to figure out who I am in a few months. Unless there¡¯s another B-rank Rabbit arriving on the island from Chicago. The Velras will think I¡¯m total lunatic.¡±
¡°You have to accept that,¡± Boe said kindly. ¡°This is a rare opportunity.¡±
¡°You have to do it,¡± Jeremy agreed, bouncing up and down like a kid.
¡°No way.¡±
¡°Do it.¡±
¡°Do it.¡±
¡°Not in a million years.¡±
###
¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Jeremy breathed.
It was three hours later. Alden had paper cuts, and the letter ¡°Y¡± was glued to his forehead. His room was covered in a flurry of shredded magazines.
But lying on his desk was the professional, polite, and thorough letter he¡¯d written. Which took up five pages of paper when it was turned into a creepy kidnapper-esque collage.
I should have taken out the part where I requested a magical non-disclosure agreement.
It had taken forever to paste in a detailed explanation of why he was asking the Velras to not tell anyone that he had contacted them of his own free will. And it seemed rude. Like he was saying, ¡°I want you to help me and give me your money, but also, I want you to make sure people think you took advantage of me. Please.¡±
In the midst of pondering how that would come across to the powerful family, Alden caught Boe making a surreptitious hand movement.
¡°Jeremy, stop him,¡± Alden said tiredly. ¡°He¡¯s trying to add a postscript again.¡±
Jeremy grabbed the back of Boe¡¯s t-shirt and yanked.
¡°I¡¯m trying to help you, you ingrate!¡± Boe squawked, clutching the magazine headline to his chest.
Jeremy pried it out of his fingers. He inspected it. ¡°This one says, ¡®Make me a millionaire, sugar!¡¯¡± His forehead creased. ¡°Your aunt has¡interesting¡taste in magazines.¡±
¡°She just buys whatever¡¯s on the front of the rack in checkout lines. Destroy it.¡±
Jeremy wadded it into a ball and threw it in a perfect arc at the trashcan. It bounced off a towering heap of paper and fell into the floor with everything else.
"You''re both fools!"
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Boe, we''re already asking them for fifty thousand Argold. I almost fainted gluing the number in. It''s plenty."
It was a little more than a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Alden hadn''t picked the amount randomly. He''d been researching the prices of things he knew he might want to buy even as a student, and assuming his new Rabbit skill wasn''t useless, this amount should be enough to set him up with decent starter supplies.
¡°Fine,¡± Boe spat. ¡°Don¡¯t accept my wisdom. Starve to death trying to buy decent vegan food on a man-made island that produces no produce. I bet a banana costs like fifteen dollars.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t tell them to find Rabbit for me, keep my connection to them a secret, and give me an absurd amount of money. It¡¯s one thing too many. I want them to help me, not assassinate me.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± Jeremy agreed. ¡°Even I think that¡¯s a bit much. It¡¯s like saying, ¡®Hey, Veldras! Give someone lots of money so that they¡¯ll give me the rare class that makes lots of money. Then give me way more money on top of it.¡¯ Sounds crazy.¡±
¡°Your opinion is invalid, rich boy.¡±
¡°Alden agrees with me.¡±
¡°Alden dreams of fighting crime in tights¡while carrying other Avoweds¡¯ suitcases, apparently. We can¡¯t trust him to take care of himself.¡±
¡°There will be no tights.¡±
¡°Lots of superheroes wear compression stockings for their health, though,¡± Jeremy said in a serious voice. ¡°So you might have to.¡±
Both Alden and Boe stared at him.
¡°I heard it on an infomercial,¡± Jeremy said sincerely.
Boe opened his mouth. Judging by his expression, he was going to say something more exasperated than cutting, but he never got the chance.
All of the sudden, from the living room, a familiar voice rang out. ¡°Alden! You home? I brought pizza!¡±
¡°Ooo¡pizza!¡± Jeremy was out the door in a flash.
¡°You can¡¯t be too mean to him when I leave,¡± Alden said.
Boe sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±
¡°No way. Your best sucks. Do better than that.¡±
¡°See, normally that would hurt my feelings. But right now I can¡¯t register the pain through my pity.¡±
Alden frowned at him.
Boe headed for the door after Jeremy. ¡°You haven¡¯t told your aunt about your diet, right?¡± he said over his shoulder.
Then, grinning, he shouted, ¡°Mmmm¡Connie! The pizza smells awesome! Double sausage like always?¡±
¡°You know it!¡± Aunt Connie called back.
Alden swore.
###
The guys stayed over all night.
They played video games with Aunt Connie, who was predictably enthusiastic about Alden¡¯s new diet and insisted on ordering in another, depressingly salad-like pizza to celebrate.
Nobody said they were trying to take Alden¡¯s mind off of the funeral, but he knew that was what they were doing.
And he appreciated the hell out of it.
He fell asleep on the sofa sometime after midnight and woke up a few hours later to the smell of more food.
Not leftover pizza, but actual real food the likes of which their house had virtually never seen. He wandered into the kitchen to find his aunt and Jeremy sitting at the table with scolded expressions on their face, while Boe stood at the stove giving the sizzling pan in front of him a death glare.
¡°Are you cooking?¡± Alden asked, twisting his head from side to side to work out a crick in his neck.
¡°Maybe,¡± Boe said, squinting at the pan. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Your stove is sketchy. And I¡¯ve never done tofu before. And Connie put the mashed avocado in here while I wasn¡¯t looking, so that¡¯s going to be a new experience. But possibly I am making breakfast hash.¡±
¡°It smells great.¡±
¡°No. That¡¯s the coconut bacon. It is great. But Jeremy ate half of it already.¡±
I¡¯m in trouble, Jeremy mouthed. Alden¡¯s aunt nodded in agreement.
Alden smiled. ¡°You guys are the best.¡±
¡°Your teleport¡¯s at ten?¡±
¡°Yeah. It¡¯ll be even earlier on Anesidora. I should get there a few hours before the service, and then Ms. Zhao¡¯s got me porting back late this evening. I think she wanted to give me a chance to hang out and be a tourist for a while if I wanted.¡±
It wasn¡¯t like anyone had known he¡¯d be moving to the island on a permanent basis in the near future. It was supposed to be his last opportunity to visit anywhere he might have spent time with Hannah.
¡°I took your dress shirt to the dry cleaner yesterday!¡± Aunt Connie said.
No. She hadn¡¯t. At least not the dress shirt that fit him. But it was still a nice gesture.
¡°Thanks,¡± Alden said. ¡°I appreciate that.¡±
They ate together. The hash was good. It probably would have been great sans hot avocado goo.
Alden found his thoughts kept scattering while the others talked around him. They flitted from Hannah, to the day ahead, to the letter in his room, to class selection, to Gorgon, to¡everything. It had been a wild couple of days.
When he focused back on the conversation at the table, he realized Jeremy was complaining about the fact that Boe was still dragging him to their consulate classes for the day even though Alden wouldn¡¯t be there.
¡°Hey, will you two take notes for me?¡± he asked. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind?¡±
Normally they didn¡¯t bother. Boe didn¡¯t need to. Jeremy didn¡¯t want to.
¡°I kind of feel like I shouldn¡¯t miss anything?¡± Alden said, trying to keep it subtle in front of his aunt.
Ditching regular classes was one thing. But consulate classes suddenly seemed way more relevant to his life than they had last weekend.
¡°I¡¯ll do wordchains!¡± Jeremy offered.
¡°If you¡¯re a glutton for punishment, I can record the lecture in Artonan Life.¡± said Boe. ¡°You can listen to Instructor Pa-weeq talk about irrigation as many times as you like.¡±
¡°Thanks, guys. Anyone up for attending my logogram class?¡±
¡°Can¡¯t,¡± said Boe. ¡°We have plans.¡±
¡°Both of you do? Together.¡±
¡°We made them just now, telepathically, when you asked for such a horrible, horrible favor.¡±
Alden spent the rest of the morning going over his schedule for the day, getting dressed, and trying not to fidget with his tie.
¡°I wanted to bring up one more thing,¡± said Boe, watching him over the top of a partially destroyed gardening magazine.
Jeremy was in the living room vacuuming because he¡¯d dropped a piece of pizza the night before. It wasn¡¯t a big deal, since the living room carpet was patterned with mysterious stains, but apparently the sanctity of clean flooring had been embedded into his brain by his mother, who was a neat-freak.
¡°What is it?¡± Alden asked. ¡°Nothing too stressful please. I¡¯m pretty sure my adrenal system is nearing some kind of critical point.¡±
¡°Try not to be stressed then. I just wanted to remind you that you can¡¯t tell anyone on Anesidora you¡¯re one of them. Yet.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not like I was planning to announce it at the service.¡±
¡°I know. But in case it came up and you wanted to share with this Cly person or Arjun Thomas or something¡I¡¯m not sure what happens if you tell them. Most of Hannah¡¯s friends were islander kids, right? They might feel like you should register while you¡¯re there. With Anesidora I mean. Not the U.S.¡±
¡°I¡¯m not going to tell. But if something slips it wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world, would it? I do plan to register eventually.¡±
Boe scratched at a zit on his chin. ¡°I think it would be fine? I¡¯m sure they¡¯d let you come back home. But I¡¯m not sure they¡¯d let you come home alone.¡±
Alden had only been giving the conversation about a tenth of his attention. But when Boe said that, he suddenly found himself completely focused.
¡°What does that mean?¡±
¡°So¡with S¡¯s and A¡¯s they kind of get an honor guard once they¡¯ve affixed and registered.¡±
Alden blinked. ¡°I think I¡¯ve heard it mentioned in passing? It¡¯s for really high-value classes?¡±
¡°No, it¡¯s for all of them,¡± Boe said with a shake of his head. ¡°They get their own dedicated superhuman to follow them around for ninety days and help them prep for their transition to the island. It¡¯s all friendly enough, but if they refuse, they just get a dedicated spy instead.¡±
Alden straightened his tie for the thousandth time while he processed that.
¡°Oh,¡± he said finally. ¡°No cold feet allowed, huh?¡±
¡°You get it. I¡¯m not sure it applies to B-ranks. They don¡¯t have limitless resources. But I bet the city could afford to send a few cops to lurk around outside your house at all hours. And that would be a tense way to spend the next few months.¡±
¡°All right. My lips are even more sealed than they were before. I¡¯d like to have some time to figure out how to handle Rabbit without people hiding in the bushes around the house watching me.¡±
¡°Good,¡± said Boe. ¡°Your teleport¡¯s in ten. How does it work?¡±
¡°I get a call from the System on my phone. There¡¯s a countdown, then a nasty feeling like you¡¯re about to vomit, and then you blink and you¡¯re in a travel center on Anesidora.¡±
¡°Fun.¡±
To Alden¡¯s surprise, he sounded sincere.
¡°Yeah, it is. Pukey feeling aside. It¡¯s cool.¡± He grinned. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll get a teleportation skill one day.¡±
Boe rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m glad your penchant for dreaming is intact, you lowly B-rank Rabbit.¡±
###
Alden¡¯s phone never rang with a call from the System.
Instead, the interface blossomed to life in front of his eyes a minute before he was due to leave.
[A LOCAL TELEPORTATION INSTANCE HAS BEEN REQUESTED.
DESTINATION: ANESIDORA, ARRIVAL STATION F
TIME TO TELEPORT: 65s]
[Do you wish to accept teleportation?]
[YES/NO]
It was a relief. He, Jeremy, and Boe had just been sitting around awkwardly, waiting for it to happen.
¡°It¡¯s a System notice. Not my phone.¡±
¡°Makes sense.¡±
¡°I wish I could see it,¡± Jeremy groaned. ¡°Is it as awesome as I imagine it would be?¡±
Alden watched the timer tick down. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s amazing, but it¡¯s also getting normal faster than I would have thought. I guess because it¡¯s similar enough to the tech we¡¯re already used to.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t forget our letter.¡±
¡°It¡¯s literally in my hand right now, Boe.¡± Alden held up the large yellow envelope for emphasis.
¡°I meant don¡¯t get distracted by superhero island and forget to send it.¡±
¡°I won¡¯t. You two are going to go to class today, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re already running late.¡±
¡°I¡¯ll haul Jeremy there somehow.¡±
¡°Tell Gorgon what¡¯s up. He probably saw Skiff, but in case he¡¯s worried¡ª¡±
¡°We¡¯ll do it. Just do your thing already.¡±
¡°Yeah,¡± said Jeremy, waving his hands in front of Alden like a magician. ¡°Vanish. Begone.¡±
Alden agreed to the teleport. A few seconds later, right before Jeremy accidentally poked him in the eye, he felt nauseated.
It passed as suddenly as it had come.
And just like that, he was on Anesidora, standing inside a phonebooth-sized teleportation bay. The arched ceiling over his head was covered in spiraling symbols.
In front of him was what looked like a blank metal wall. He only knew it was the door because of prior experience.
¡°Welcome to Anesidora, Mr. Thorn!¡± said a female voice through a hidden speaker. ¡°I see this isn¡¯t your first visit, so you know the drill.¡±
¡°Security scan?¡±
¡°Yep,¡± said the voice. ¡°Do you submit to a scan? If you don¡¯t submit to the scan we can pull you out for an in-person evaluation. The wait time on that is usually half an hour.¡±
¡°The scan¡¯s fine.¡±
¡°Please hold still. This will only take a few seconds.¡±
Alden held still. This thing can¡¯t tell I¡¯m a selectee, can it?
The question sent a flash of panic through him. He¡¯d always thought of the process as going through a glorified metal detector, so he¡¯d agreed without a second thought.
He opened his mouth to ask for the in-person evaluation instead, but as soon as he did, the door slid open.
¡°You¡¯re all clear! Follow the signage to the exit. Have a nice day, Mr. Thorn.¡±
TWENTY: An Ordinary Mailbox
Relieved, Alden tightened his grip on his envelope and exited the teleportation bay.
He stood in a long hallway filled with bays identical to the one he¡¯d just arrived through. People were streaming out of them at regular intervals, many of them dragging small suitcases behind them. Letting a woman in a hijab pass by, Alden took a second to get his bearings then followed a lighted sign on the wall that said some version of WAY OUT in five different languages.
A couple of minutes later, he¡¯d reached a wide open atrium full of potted palms in steel planters. A light flashed in the bottom right corner of his vision. When Alden focused his attention on it for a few seconds, the words ¡°voice call from Clytem Zhao¡± scrolled upwards from the point of light.
Does the System just not see any point in using my cell phone anymore?
He wondered if his old messages were available through the interface somehow. He needed to practice with it more.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket anyway and held it to his ear so that he wouldn¡¯t look like a System user to anyone else.
That also means I can¡¯t poke around at the air in front of my face. Normal humans don¡¯t do that.
¡°Accept call,¡± he said quietly.
¡°Hey, kid,¡± Hannah¡¯s friend said. Her tone was friendly, but a little subdued. ¡°I just got a notice for your teleport. Are you still in the right number of pieces?¡±
¡°I am. Thanks for arranging it for me, Ms. Zhao.¡±
¡°Hannah would¡¯ve wanted you here. There¡¯s nothing to thank me for. The service is taking place on the other side of Anesidora from you. In Apex. You¡¯ve got around three hours to yourself in F City, and then I¡¯ll come pick you up. We¡¯ll grab a quick lunch somewhere, if you¡¯re in the mood to eat, and head over. How does that sound?¡±
¡°It sounds good.¡±
¡°Okay. See you¡ªoh, wait. Almost forgot. I put ten Argold under your name in case you wanted to buy anything. Hannah used to do that, right? You know how it works? It¡¯s around forty Canadian dollars¡sorry I¡¯m not up on the current U.S. conversion.¡±
Hannah had always done that.
Alden found himself swallowing around an unexpected lump. ¡°That¡¯s really thoughtful of you. Thanks.¡±
¡°No sweat. See you soon.¡±
After the call ended, Alden headed over to the atrium¡¯s help desk and picked up one of the debit cards that kids and other non-Avowed used to pay for things on the island. The man working at the desk confirmed his identity with a thumbprint and loaded Clytem Zhao¡¯s money on the card, plus a little of Alden¡¯s own he¡¯d brought to pay for stamps¡or whatever the Anesidoran equivalent was.
¡°What¡¯s the best way to mail something?¡± Alden asked as they finished up.
¡°You mean a postcard?¡± the man said dismissively. ¡°You¡¯ll have a hard time finding one. We don¡¯t have a tourist industry here on Anesidora.¡±
Alden had wondered why the guy was so rude when he¡¯d asked for the debit card. He must be one of those ¡°Anesidora for Anesidorans¡± types who thought non-Avowed shouldn¡¯t be allowed to set foot here.
Dick.
Still, Alden wanted the information.
¡°No. I mean where¡¯s the nearest post office? I want to mail something to someone on the island.¡±
He sighed as though Alden had asked him to perform an impossible task. ¡°There¡¯s a mailbox on your way out of the building. You can pay with your card.¡±
That was convenient. Alden was uncomfortable carrying around a letter that would reveal him as a selectee, and the sooner he got it out of his hands, the better.
He found the mailbox near the exit easily enough. But using it turned out to be more of a process than he had anticipated. It was a big hunk of metal, larger than a refrigerator, with a baffling lack of helpful instructions, buttons, or screens.
There was just a single cabinet for placing your parcel in, and below it, an etched signature that said ¡°Wrightwork by Indah Juliana.¡±
Alden only knew it was a mailbox at all because it was sitting beside a sign that said POST DROP.
He walked around it, looking for somewhere to stick his new debit card, but he couldn¡¯t find anything.
Is this one of those things that¡¯s obvious if you live here?
Finally, feeling absurd, he tried talking to the box. ¡°Hey, you are for mail, right?¡±
¡°Hello!¡± said a metallic voice. It was high and exuberant, like a cartoon character. ¡°I am Post Drop #1301 - a graduation capstone project gifted to F City by Indah Juliana. Would you like to mail something?¡±
¡°Yes?¡± Alden said uncertainly.
¡°Grrreat! Just place your envelope or parcel in my handy-dandy depository. Please no explosives, delicate electronics, or live animals.¡±
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
¡°Okay. I wanted to confirm that the address is valid, though?¡±
Alden had an address for a big mansion owned by Aulia Velra¡¯s son Corin. Boe had found it online, but it still seemed like something he should double check.
¡°No sweat! If your address doesn¡¯t match the name of your recipient, I will return your package to you.¡±
¡°How do I buy postage?¡±
¡°If you¡¯re an Avowed, just place your hand anywhere on my front panel. I¡¯ll connect to your System interface. If you are a minor, a non-Avowed resident, or a visitor, please place your NesiCard in my depository with your mail.¡±
That¡¯s easy enough at least.
Alden opened the cabinet and set his envelope inside along with his card. After he closed the door there was a sound like a boiling kettle.
¡°All right! I¡¯ve scanned your delivery. It¡¯ll be half an Argold to send it through standard post. Any additional fees incurred by recipient request for special services will be paid for by the recipient. How does that sound?¡±
Alden didn¡¯t know what special services might be. Maybe the talking box checked the packages for dangerous materials?
If this didn¡¯t work for some reason, it wasn¡¯t the end of the world. He¡¯d just have to find a slower, less cloak-and-dagger method when he was back home. Maybe blast an email to every Velra he could find an address for and just see who replied first.
¡°It sounds good,¡± he told the box.
¡°Would you like a receipt?¡±
¡°No, thanks.¡±
¡°Okey-dokey karaoke! I¡¯ve withdrawn the funds and accepted your envelope. Please take your card back. And have an awesome day!¡±
¡°¡you too?¡±
Post Drop #1301 liked to think of itself as Leo.
It was a big no-no to think of itself at all according to its creator, but Leo only sort-of-kind-of-sometimes cared what she said.
Anyway, Leo¡¯s life was awesome.
It talked to people. It ate mail. Every now and then, it got to read the mail and decide what to do with it.
Like now.
Corin Velra was on Leo¡¯s Nice List. Which was officially called the ¡°Scan Priority to System List,¡± but whatever.
The important thing was that when someone sent a letter to Corin Velra, Leo got to use Leo¡¯s brain. Leo zapped some Argold from Nice List Corin¡¯s account, split it, and sent part of it to Creator and part to the Anesidoran government.
Boring.
Now for the fun part.
Leo examined the envelope someone had just fed it, using its proprietary scanners to analyze the interior. And wowie! Yum. This was the best thing Leo had eaten since that angry human had mailed a manifesto to the High Council.
This new thing was so hard to read. Why were the fonts all over the place? Why were there so many ever-so-slightly-different paper types involved?
What a challenge!
Leo burbled and scanned. It played itself the meditative sound of toilets flushing¡ªrecorded from the bathroom next door¡ªto get in the zone.
Nice List Corin and a bunch of other Nice List Velras had re-personalized their settings a couple of months ago, and wouldn¡¯t you know it? Some of the keywords Leo was supposed to look for were right here in this wacky letter!
Is it enough? it thought, scanning hard. We¡¯re going for a zero spam week here!
And yes! Yes it was! This letter was a good letter. Not as exciting as a death threat, but still, high priority.
System, I¡¯ve got one! cried Leo.
The System was a total loser, though, and it wouldn¡¯t respond to unofficial channels most of the time. Seemed to think it was too important to listen to Leo.
Though it had told Leo to shut up and leave it alone once.
Best. Day. Ever.
Leo used the official channels, now, and the System acknowledged receipt of the letter¡¯s contents.
Leo waited.
And waited.
It played itself some more flushes.
Finally, it got a ping back. Somebody was coming to pick up the letter in person. It was so high priority they couldn¡¯t wait for the mail run.
Score.
I did good right? Leo said smugly to the System. Check me out! I¡¯m your favorite Post Box, aren¡¯t I? Huh? Huh?
The System ignored it.
TWENTY-ONE: Glossed
For only the second time in her life, Aimi Velra was under the influence of the highest potency luck chain available to humanity.
Glossed¡ª that was what the family called it. She didn¡¯t know who had come up with the term, but it fit. Aimi felt shiny, gleaming. Untouchable.
She pressed her foot almost to the floor, and her sports car shot through the streets of Apex at a speed that was illegal¡ªfor vehicles at least¡ªeverywhere on the island.
Aimi gritted her teeth. She was both loving, and loathing, the way other cars and pedestrians seemed to melt out of existence around her. No doubt she was ruining traffic patterns all over the city.
It was a doozy of a chain, one that could only be completed by Aulia Velra herself, and it had fallen on the whole family two days ago.
Like a heaven-sent battering ram.
They were all high as kites from the overluck by now. They were elated. They were furious. Everyone was going a little nuts.
Poor cousin Lute had only just turned fifteen, and he¡¯d called Aimi crying because his crush had asked him out at school yesterday. And now he could never date her without it being reallly creepy.
Was a cosmically potent wordchain giving you your dream girlfriend the same as you accidentally mind controlling her?
Who the hell knows?!
Aimi yelled in frustration as her car barreled south. There were signs everywhere on her interface telling her she was about to enter a small high-rank Wright neighborhood jokingly called Big Boom Town. Her car wasn¡¯t armored, and she wasn¡¯t either, so normally that would have been a firm no from her.
But today she sailed through, and there wasn¡¯t a single explosion or giant robot in sight.
Just as she was about to leave and enter another neighborhood, a drone conked out in the sky above her and dropped a box of cupcakes it was delivering. Through her open sunroof. Neatly into her passenger seat. Without a single crumb falling onto the dark red leather.
They were from her favorite bakery.
¡°THAT¡¯S IT!¡± she shouted. ¡°System, call Keiko!!¡±
The connection notice flashed in her vision.
¡°Aimi, I was almost asleep. It¡¯s really late in Tokyo,¡± her sister said tiredly.
¡°You can sleep?!¡±
¡°Theoretically. If you stop bothering me.¡±
¡°Cupcakes just landed in my car, little sis. Through my sunroof. I¡¯m driving 200 kilometers per freaking hour.¡±
¡°Don¡¯t push it,¡± Keiko said sharply. ¡°The Gloss isn¡¯t perfect.¡±
¡°I went into a public bathroom at Rosa Grove Mall yesterday, and the floor was so clean I could¡¯ve eaten off it. I saw my ex at a sandwich place, and he was on crutches. I found a pearl bracelet in a potted plant.¡±
¡°Is that all?¡±
¡°What do you mean ¡®is that all?¡¯¡±
¡°I accidentally busted a gang of human traffickers on my way to get coffee this morning,¡± Keiko admitted. ¡°And I got a summons. It only took me an hour, and they were in such a good mood they gave me access to a new wordchain for it. One I haven''t really earned yet.¡±
¡°What? That¡¯s not fair!¡±
¡°I thought you were just complaining that you were too lucky?¡±
¡°I got cupcakes! You got an easy-mode summons with outsize rewards! I thought the whole point of them binding us all together for this one was to make things more balanced.¡±
¡°It''s to maximize opportunities. The fact that we''re bound together for things like this supposedly means everything comes out fairer¡ª¡±
¡°Fairer over the long run. Yeah, yeah. I know. But oh my gods, I¡¯d hate to be Hazel in a few weeks, when we¡¯re taking stray meteorites to the face and coming down with rare diseases. She¡¯s not worth it, and we all know it.¡±
Keiko didn¡¯t answer.
¡°Fine,¡± said Aimi. ¡°Tell me I¡¯m being a bad Auntie. Tell me it¡¯s not little Hazel¡¯s fault that she¡¯s a chaining genius, and Corin and Grandma are willing to shove us all off cliffs for her.¡±
¡°You¡¯re a terrible Aunt,¡± said Keiko. ¡°And it¡¯s not Hazel¡¯s fault she was selected at a time when we didn¡¯t have a Chainer of the proper rank lined up for her. But¡¡±
Aimi tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She was surprised. Usually Keiko was so nice. She had that hero thing down pat.
¡°Hazel could have stopped it from going so far by affixing something else,¡± Keiko admitted grudgingly. ¡°If she¡¯d been an S like we all expected this might have been warranted¡but she¡¯s only a B-rank. And I don¡¯t really want to bite a major luck bullet right now, either. I have my own goals. And if the good doesn¡¯t blow them up, the bad that¡¯s coming definitely will.¡±
¡°Ah¡yeah. Sorry to vent on you. I know this is happening to you, too. I should let you get back to sleep?¡±
¡°That¡¯s a great idea,¡± said Keiko. ¡°Don¡¯t drive too fast.¡±
¡°I think I just passed a speedster.¡±
¡°Aimi.¡±
¡°Another call¡¯s coming in. Bye!¡±
She didn¡¯t answer the other call right away, though.
Aimi wasn¡¯t in the mood to run an errand for any of her many uncles or aunts right now. And that went double for Uncle Corin. She¡¯d blast deep into F, then answer him. At normal highway speeds, she¡¯d be a solid half-hour away from that workaholic''s office by then and less likely to be useful.
She let the notification blink in her peripheral while she shot across The Span. The eight kilometer long bridge connected Apex¡ªthe smaller, crescent-shaped northern portion of Anesidora¡ªto the larger circular island to the south that was mostly made up of F-city.
As she left it behind, she flipped open the lid on the box of cupcakes and reached for a bright orange one.
She took a bite and frowned, chewing thoughtfully.
¡°Answer call,¡± she said finally. ¡°Voice only.¡±
¡°Aimi,¡± said Uncle Corin, he sounded breathless.
¡°Hey,¡± she said, ¡°I think the gloss is fading. I know it¡¯s supposed to last another day, but I just bit into a cupcake and I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s made of squash. I mean it¡¯s not bad, but it¡¯s definitely not my go-to flavor.¡±
¡°It¡¯s not fading,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s doing exactly what we hoped it would. I need you to run an errand.¡±
¡°Too bad,¡± she said. ¡°Can¡¯t. I¡¯m way out of Apex. Down in F.¡±
¡°There¡¯s a person in F I need you to find.¡±
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Aimi winced. Of course there was.
¡°It¡¯s a boy. Fifteen to seventeen. I haven¡¯t got a name yet. Brown hair. Green eyes. Average height. Average build.¡±
¡°Wow. I know I¡¯m good with my insight chains, but I¡¯m not that good. You just described at least a couple hundred teenagers on the island. Can¡¯t you send me a pic at least?¡±
¡°No. I don¡¯t have security footage of him yet. I got the description from a¡ Post Drop. I¡¯m pretty sure its creator has done something highly illegal, but that¡¯s beside the point. He¡¯s wearing a tie and dress shoes. He left the Teleportation Complex around half an hour ago.¡± He paused. ¡°Aimi, he¡¯s the one. I think. Or a friend of theirs.¡±
¡°Bullshit,¡± said Aimi, swerving easily around a pothole she definitely shouldn¡¯t have been able to dodge at this speed. ¡°The B-rank Chainer we need delivered themselves to us? Like freaking takeout?¡±
Note to self: don¡¯t ever make Grandma Aulia mad.
¡°I think he might have. And not a moment too soon.¡±
¡°Meteorites to the face,¡± she muttered.
At this rate, she wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the entire island sank like Atlantis sometime next week.
Her uncle had to have heard her comment, but he ignored it. ¡°Hazel¡¯s at home. Take the boy straight there. I¡¯m fetching the other necessities. Thank goodness we have who we need lined up. Also, try to determine if our new friend is unacceptably odd.¡±
¡°What?¡±
¡°Too disturbing to associate with over the long term,¡± Corin said. ¡°This letter is well-composed for a teenager, but at the same time¡I have some concerns after seeing it in person.¡±
¡°Creepy kid in dress clothes. Got it. Still doubt I¡¯ll find him quick. I¡¯m pretty close to the place, but there are a few million people to search through in F City. And I¡¯m sure my wordchains will work great when I¡¯m glossy as a fresh manicure, but I¡¯m not psychic or anyth--huh¡¡±
She¡¯d been forced to slow down by a garbage truck. It was the first vehicle that had gotten in her way in the past two days. She¡¯d been so distracted by the conversation that she wasn¡¯t suspicious at first, but now¡ she squinted out her windshield as her car eased forward.
She was passing by a public recreation area, one with a jungle gym, some swings, and a small fish pond.
¡°Corin, just out of curiosity, is there any chance your ominous teenager actually looks incredibly wholesome?¡±
¡°Again, I don¡¯t have footage of him yet. I¡¯m working on it.¡± Corin was definitely out of breath. ¡°Why?¡±
¡°Because there¡¯s a kid here, just a few blocks from the teleportation place. He¡¯s all by himself. With brown hair and dress clothes.¡±
¡°That must be him! Yes. Finally. Get him to come with you!¡±
¡°I don¡¯t know...¡± she said slowly. ¡°I don¡¯t feel good about this. He looks kinda sad, and he¡¯s feeding the ducks.¡±
¡°Aimi!¡±
She U-turned the car and passed by the park again. ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell from here, but I think he has freckles on his nose.¡±
Her uncle swore. ¡°You¡¯re the only one in position. The gloss isn¡¯t without limits! If you cast aside the opportunities afforded by it, we might not get another chance.¡±
She grimaced. The only thing that would be worse than the bad luck that was coming would be if everyone in the family blamed her for it going to waste.
¡°Yeah, yeah. Okay. I¡¯ll kidnap him.¡±
There was a relieved sigh from Corin. Then, a minute later, he spoke in a startled voice. ¡°Wait¡I said get him to come with you. Not go straight to kidnapping. We need him to give us his class! Don¡¯t do anything rash. Aimi? Aimi, did you mute me?!¡±
Alden turned the knob on the modified gumball machine beside the park bench and took another handful of duck food. A dozen birds were quacking around his feet, unafraid now that they¡¯d realized he was a big spender.
Hannah would have thought this was funny.
They¡¯d only come to this park together once, on Alden¡¯s first trip to visit her. It had been really awkward, and the ice between them hadn¡¯t thawed until Hannah had used one of her barriers as a platform so that the two of them could sit out in the middle of the pond, watching the ducks.
I wonder if anyone has ever actually bought all of the food in the machine before? he wondered as he sprinkled the gray pellets around.
Now that the letter was sent, he didn¡¯t have anywhere else to be until the funeral. The money on his debit card should be just enough for him to befriend every duck in the park.
And it was nice to have the park all to himself. The day was sunny, and it was warm for an Anesidoran summer¡ªa pleasant reprieve from the cold winter he¡¯d left behind in Chicago.
You¡¯d think more people would be hanging around a place like this on a Saturday morning. He grabbed another handful of food and settled on the bench, doling the pieces out slowly. It¡¯s going to be weird to live here all the time.
If he got into one of the better training courses, he¡¯d be in Apex. If he was stuck in a lower-rank school here in F instead¡he could feed the ducks all the time.
Win-win.
He snorted at himself.
¡°Hey you,¡± he said pointing at a particularly fat bully of a duck, ¡°leave the little guys alone or I¡¯ll grab you and stick you back in the pond.¡±
¡°Not if I grab you first,¡± a voice whispered in his ear.
¡°WHAT THE FU¡ª?¡±
Before Alden could finish cursing in surprise, a hand was clamped over his mouth, and he was dragged sideways off the bench. Duck food scattered across the grass, and those quacking traitors didn¡¯t even glance up as Alden was hauled away at high speed.
It happened so fast.
And it was so damn uncomfortable. Whoever had grabbed hold of Alden was freakishly strong, but they were also much shorter than him. And they hadn¡¯t picked him up. He was just being hauled along in a weird bent-over position, trying to keep his feet beneath him while he was dragged forward by the head.
The hand keeping him from screaming for help was one stumble away from ripping his nose off.
¡°Hey!¡± said his kidnapper as she tightened her grip on him and dragged him toward the nearby street. ¡°Ni hao. Suprabhat. What¡¯s your language of choice, amigo?¡±
Shit! Help! Some crazy supergirl is going to kill me! Where the fuck is everyone?
He was in the middle of a giant city. Why was the park empty? Why was the street silent as if every other soul on the planet had better places to be?
¡°Stop wriggling so much. I don¡¯t want to knock a teenager out. Concussions are wicked bad, yeah? It¡¯s not like in the movies.¡±
System! thought Alden. Call! Activate! Turn ON! 911!
Why hadn¡¯t he listened when Gorgon told him to make up a hands-free activation method?
He¡¯d planned to do it. He just hadn¡¯t expected to need to before he even affixed a class!
¡°Sorry about this, freckles. We just want to have a quick word with you. Yeah, yeah Uncle Corin. I get it. I won¡¯t really give him a concussion. Jeez, I¡¯m not a monster, you know?¡±
The name Corin sounded vaguely familiar, but not familiar enough to pierce through Alden¡¯s blind terror.
As the kidnapper turned her double-armed grip into a single-arm hold so that she could open the door of fiery red sports car, Alden used every ounce of his strength to lunge away from her.
Only to be yanked back by his shirt in an instant.
He was shoved into the car, his hip ramming into the stick-shift hard enough to bruise, and before he could even pull himself up into a proper sitting position, a petite woman with a dark ponytail was sliding into the driver¡¯s seat beside him.
¡°Hi there!¡± she said, grinning at him as she revved the engine. ¡°I¡¯m Aimi!¡±
¡°Help!¡± Alden screamed, reaching for the door handle.
¡°Nah, you don¡¯t need help,¡± said Aimi, smashing her foot against the gas. The car shot forward so fast Alden was pressed to the red leather seat. ¡°You don¡¯t even need to buckle up! Not today. Today, I¡¯m the best driver on the island.¡±
Aimi held a pastry box out toward Alden as the car roared down the street. ¡°Want a cupcake?¡± she asked. ¡°Lots to choose from. Kinda strange. I think they might be vegan.¡±
TWENTY-TWO: Uneven
Alden had been kidnapped for around a minute. His brain wasn¡¯t handling it well yet.
In fact, it was like someone had given his stream of consciousness a shot of adrenaline and then shoved it into a rave. All his thoughts were smashing into each other so that he couldn¡¯t properly address any of them.
She said Corin and that must be Corin Velra, and she said they just want to talk, but she is a crazy person, and I want to talk but not like this, am I going to be murdered, and what if I miss the funeral, why are there cupcakes, and oh my god how fast is she driving, if I can shout for help I can make a call¡
Finally. A thought that was concrete enough to prompt an action.
¡°System, call Clytem Zh¡ª!¡±
Alden spoke quickly, but at exactly the wrong moment, the car hit a pothole. Aimi had been waving a purple cupcake under his nose while she drove, and she accidentally rammed it into his face.
Alden inhaled a large quantity of frosting.
¡°Don¡¯t call her!¡± Aimi said frantically while he coughed up pieces of cake. ¡°I said my family just wants to talk to you. She¡¯s a brain melter. That¡¯s not cool! Who are you anyway?¡±
Strangely, having blackberry frosting shoved up both his nostrils calmed Alden down a lot. The discomfort gave his mind something to latch onto.
¡°Hey, Uncle Corin. I¡¯m pretty sure the kid is trying to call Clytem Zhao. Unless you know someone else running around with the name Clytem.¡±
She nodded as if in answer to an invisible comment, sighed, then turned to Alden, completely ignoring the street in front of them.
¡°He says, ¡®Please don¡¯t act in haste. I¡¯m trying to get you what you want right now, so that all parties will be satisfied,¡± she reported. ¡°He also says I should apologize to you sincerely. So. Sorry. Sincerely.¡±
Alden wiped at his face and stared at her cautiously. ¡°Why¡¯d you grab me?¡±
¡°Because you¡¯ve got Chainer,¡± Aimi said, whipping her ponytail over her shoulder. ¡°Unless you don¡¯t? If you don¡¯t, you should definitely tell me that right now so that I can release you back into your natural habitat.¡±
¡°¡I don¡¯t?¡±
¡°Ha! Liar.¡± She grinned at him. ¡°You totally do. Wow. Listen, my grandma used this insane wordchain to coat the whole family in good luck because her favorite descendant is right up against the deadline to affix. You know about Chainer?¡±
¡°A little,¡± Alden admitted, settling back into his seat and buckling the safety belt.
He could always shout for Ms. Zhao later. That was the right call, wasn¡¯t it?
He had reached out to the Velras himself. He¡¯d expected some kind of reply back. In a few days. Through lawyers or emails¡ but this might be fine?
All superhuman dealings aren¡¯t this high stress, right? Should I just have expected a kidnapping half an hour after mailing a letter?
¡°Well, if you know a little, you probably know enough. Chainer¡¯s our whole thing. We don¡¯t just use it individually; we have ways to use it collectively. Not getting it is a big deal. Kind of means you¡¯re not part of the family proper anymore.¡±
Aimi stared at him like she was expecting a comment.
¡°Uh, yeah,¡± said Alden. ¡°That¡¯s definitely a big deal?¡±
¡°Right! So we keep the Chainer class lined up and ready to go, especially for more talented kids. We have selectees trade it from person to person as their grace periods end. But sometimes, it¡¯s just not possible. Everyone thought my niece Hazel would be an S. We had one saved for her for the past couple of years. But then she came out as a crappy B, and it was the one rank we couldn¡¯t lay hands on. The clock ticked down, Grandma Aulia lucked us all up, and presto! Here you are.¡±
She paused for breath, then added, ¡°By the way, what¡¯s your name?¡±
¡°B¡¯s not crappy.¡± He was so used to Boe¡¯s digs already that it came out automatically.
¡°It kind of is. I should know. Been one for two and a half decades. You¡¯re powerful enough that the little guys are jealous of you and weak enough that the big guys don¡¯t think of you at all. Welcome to the club.¡±
Alden frowned at her, trying to slot B-rank Chainer in to what he knew about her so far. She wasn¡¯t wearing armor, but she was strong enough to haul him around easily. So she had increased physical stats. It didn¡¯t seem like something the System would normally dole out to the class though.
Is there such a thing as physical enhancement wordchain? How does that work? Does she collapse into a puddle when the sacrifice half comes due?
Also¡
She looked like she was in her early twenties, but if she¡¯d become an Avowed that long ago, then she must be older. Forty?
¡°Does Chainer have a life extension component? Like Healer?¡± He was going to ask for so much more money if it did. ¡°Or do you just have amazing genes?¡±
¡°Huh?¡± she said, swerving around a motorcycle. ¡°Are you throwing me compliments? Nice! And no. Sorry. But there are a couple of healers on Anesidora who do full rejuve if you can get on their list. Grandma¡¯s got a guy. Our family basically is his list.¡±
Well, no wonder they managed to pull even non-family Chainers into their club. Aimi was talking about having the fountain of youth on retainer.
¡°So¡¡± she said. ¡°You gonna reveal your secret identity? Or does Corin need to run pictures of your face through a search engine until he finds you?¡±
Alden grimaced.
¡°I wanted to be anonymous,¡± he said, annoyance creeping in now that his fear was ebbing. ¡°So I could enjoy the next few months figuring out my class without governments breathing down my neck.¡±
¡°Corin says something very polite about how he understands your feelings,¡± Aimi reported. ¡°I say, ¡®Don¡¯t be dumb. You¡¯re not a local, right? Why¡¯d you come to the island in person if you didn¡¯t want people to know who you were?¡¯¡±
Hannah.
¡°I¡¯m here for a funeral. Ms. Zhao is coming to pick me up in two hours.¡±
Aimi¡¯s eyebrows lifted. Her lips pressed together. For the first time since Alden had gotten in the car she was silent. He didn¡¯t think it was out of respect for the dead. Judging by the way her eyes were flicking back and forth, she was doing something with her System interface.
¡°Yeah,¡± she muttered after a while, ¡°I¡¯ll drive faster.¡±
In her Tokyo apartment, Keiko Velra had given up on sleeping. Notifications from the family kept pinging in her brain.
¡°Didn¡¯t have to add me to the confab,¡± she groaned as she threw off her covers.
They had zero respect for her hero work. It had been fifteen years, but they all still thought of it as a hobby she¡¯d grow out of.
She slid her feet into a pair of slippers and scuffed into the kitchen. As she rummaged through a drawer for a coffee pod, she glanced at the clock. It was around five hours until Hazel¡¯s timer ran out. They were cutting it close, but not so close that it couldn¡¯t be done.
As long as the boy her stupid sister had just kidnapped didn¡¯t want something too exotic.
A mean-spirited part of her thought it would be funny if he was holding out for something even rarer than Chainer. But there were hardly any of those at all.
She had audio-to-text turned on so she wouldn¡¯t have to hear what was rapidly becoming a massive family conference call. She flicked her eyes up and down, directing the System with the mental commands she¡¯d been forced to master years ago.
Ah. So it¡¯s Rabbit.
Not the easiest, but doable. There was a teen holding it for them apparently. Uncle Corin had been lining up assets for months after all.
She kept reading as the coffee brewed.
[Slight hiccup,] Corin said.
The Rabbit holder wanted Meister of Rifles, and they only had a Crossbow Meister to offer her. She was turning her nose up at it, even though she would be able to do most of the same things with it from a practical standpoint. A proper wright-made crossbow with the enchanted arrows she¡¯d get access to should be fine.
Island-born kids are so damn picky.
Obviously, Keiko¡¯s own family was the premium example of that.
From what she understood, it was a harsh wakeup for outsiders who arrived on Anesidora with their shiny new random classes only to realize that the local teens had been prepping for their own for years.
By the start of middle school, the upper echelon all had a strong sense of what they wanted and could reasonably expect to get based on the popularity of the class and their parents¡¯ social connections. There were even private trading groups, organized by estimated rank, where all the involved families agreed in advance that little Suzie would get Wright and little Klaus would be a Shaper.
Someone always drew the short end of the straw thanks to bad luck and infighting. Maybe little Suzie didn¡¯t get chosen at all, and Klaus¡¯s rank was wildly different than what you¡¯d expect based on parentage.
But more kids came out of it with their future in hand than didn¡¯t.
[If it¡¯s Rabbit he wants, the boy will probably accept additional monetary compensation instead?] one of Keiko¡¯s brothers was saying.
Solid bet. There were only a couple of reasons to want Rabbit.
Money. And summons.
Usually the first one. But plenty of people did think of it as a safely-explore-the-universe ticket. Get summoned a lot, see alien worlds, don¡¯t get killed.
In the conference call, everyone was discussing amounts. They all agreed it would be much easier to drop a ton of money on the foreign kid¡¯s head than it would be to pay off the local girl with the death grip on Rabbit. She had upper middle class parents, and she had her dark little heart set on shooting people in a specific way. It didn¡¯t paint a picture of someone particularly yielding.
Keiko¡¯s brother was looking up the current annual Rabbit salary now.
Congrats, kid, thought Keiko, stirring hazelnut creamer into her mug. You¡¯re about to be a millionaire.
Then she noticed Aimi¡¯s part of the conversation. Her sister was on a different wavelength from everyone else, and as usual, they were all ignoring her.
[What about the funeral? Two hours isn¡¯t long. My brain is gonna be destroyed.]
What¡¯s she talking about?
Keiko scrolled back up. Aimi wasn¡¯t talking a lot, probably because she couldn¡¯t mental text well, and she did have their conversation topic riding shotgun in the car with her.
Ah, there it is.
Keiko blinked. The kidnapping victim was on the island to attend a funeral. With Cly Zhao.
Aimi was afraid she¡¯d be sniped after the gloss wore off. Everyone else knew Zhao was only a danger in a theoretical sense. Yes, she could kill them. No, she would not do it.
By necessity, the S-rank mind sniper was a Good Girl?. Her power was only for assassination. That meant it was nigh unusable as a deterrent on an island full of other superhumans. If she so much as issued a serious sounding threat, some paranoid hero would wipe her off the map.
Keiko felt a familiar, gnawing annoyance in her gut. Her family had just dismissed the teen¡¯s whole reason for being on Anesidora out of hand. Like he was a gift that had been delivered to them by the chain and not a whole entire person.
It was typical.
But Keiko had bucked the family¡¯s private education tradition and gone to superhero school. The same one as Zhao. And Zhao¡¯s BFF, Hannah. They weren¡¯t close, but they were friendly¡
That¡¯s got to be the funeral the boy¡¯s come for.
She couldn¡¯t remember the exact date. She¡¯d put it out of mind because she couldn¡¯t attend. But it was sometime this month.
He¡¯s from Chicago right?
She¡¯d caught that from one of her talks with Aimi yesterday. Chainer had popped up there right after the Gloss was set.
Chicago. Teenage boy. Cly Zhao. Funeral.
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
That¡¯s crazy, though. What are the chances that kid ended up being chosen as an Avowed?
Everyone in their peer group knew about Hannah and Arjun¡¯s disaster mission. It was nightmarish stuff. Double digit civilian deaths and the dream team falling apart in the wake of it.
Keiko set aside her coffee and unplugged her tablet from the wall charger. She typed in ¡°Body Drainer incident¡± and a couple minutes later, she had the name. And a little-used social media account.
¡°Hey, Aimi,¡± she said, ¡°send me a picture of your passenger.¡±
Her sister complied. It was a profile shot of a teen looking understandably tense while F-city blurred past him through a car window. He had something purple smeared on his face.
That¡¯s definitely him.
She started speed reading through the rest of the family conversation, trying to catch up now that she was actually interested.
Yes. Things were going about how she¡¯d thought they would be. Uncle Corin was delivering politely reassuring messages to the kid through Aimi, telling him this would all be sorted out in time for ¡°your next engagement.¡±
He didn¡¯t mean that.
Oh, he would try to arrange things so they were pleasant and convenient and everyone fell into line. But he had the same warped sense of priorities as the rest of the family.
And the kid was refusing to give them his name. Probably he was still freaked out. So he couldn¡¯t talk to Corin in person yet, and that was creating a miscommunication that would ultimately make all parties unhappy.
¡°System, can I send a text message to Alden Thorn?¡±
She got an instant confirmation. Newbie hadn¡¯t even set up his contact priorities yet.
She thought about it for a minute longer, then she nodded to herself and started composing a message.
###
Alden was trying to sort out what, exactly, the Velras were doing based on the chaotic one-sided conversation Aimi appeared to be having with¡more than one of them?
It sounded like they were in touch with a B-rank Rabbit already. So that was good? Someone named Hazel was literally sitting around waiting for them to bring her Chainer. That was good, too.
He¡¯d be done quickly and then go to the funeral.
Big numbers kept getting thrown around, though, which had Alden a little worried. I mean if they want to give me lots more money than I asked for, that¡¯s okay. But why would they?
Maybe they¡¯re trying to pay me off instead of going through with the part where they convince everyone I was totally ignorant and not someone who directly contacted them.
He¡could live with that. He might have to. Things were moving really fast. As long as he got the class he wanted.
¡°You could involve me in the conversation, you know?¡± he said to Aimi. ¡°I¡¯m right here.¡±
¡°How are we going to do that, Mr. Anonymous?¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re all talking through System communications right now. We don¡¯t even know how to call you. If you have demands or something, make them known.¡±
Right. That was reasonable. For someone who¡¯d almost pulled his face off a few minutes ago.
¡°Well, how many of you are there? Talking about me right now, I mean. Can¡¯t I just give my name to you and Corin and Aulia Velra? I don¡¯t have to communicate with the whole family, do I?¡±
¡°Not that many. Only fifteen or so.¡±
¡°Oh so just a small group,¡± Alden said sarcastically.
¡°Hey, I¡¯ve got eight siblings. We do things big in this family.¡±
Alden was about to tell her they couldn¡¯t just invite the whole city to make hasty decisions without his input. But before he could get that out, his interface flashed.
Ms. Zhao? he wondered, glancing at the notification.
He stared at it, and a text message appeared:
[Hi, Alden. This is Keiko Velra. Sorry about my family. I¡¯m about to video call you. Answer it if you want to sort things out calmly. No need to explain anything to Aimi.]
What was this? Keiko was the Chainer superhero he¡¯d read about. She was in Tokyo. How was she in on this?
And how did she know Alden¡¯s name if the rest of the family didn¡¯t?
What the hell was with that mailbox? Do they work completely different here? Are they psychic? Is there some superpostman who busts the sound barrier to deliver packages?
An instant later, the incoming call notice came in. Alden accepted it with a quickly muttered ¡°Yes¡± that had Aimi giving him a curious look.
A woman in pajamas appeared. She was visible from the waist up, and she was centered on a circular ¡°screen¡± that floated in the top half of Alden¡¯s line of sight.
Keiko looked a lot like Aimi, but with a bob haircut and the beginnings of crow¡¯s feet around her eyes.
¡°Hi,¡± she said, leaning back against the kitchen island behind her. ¡°You can talk if you want. Or just go with ¡®one blink for yes, two for no¡¯ if you don¡¯t want Aimi butting in. Like I said, I¡¯m Keiko. I¡¯m Aimi¡¯s younger sister. You were on your way to Hannah Elber¡¯s memorial service when they ambushed you, right?¡±
Alden blinked once.
¡°I¡¯m sorry. I was Hannah¡¯s classmate. She was an admirable person. We didn¡¯t really mesh, but I had lots of respect for her. Also, I know who you are. The boy from the Body Drainer incident.¡±
Alden froze. Oh. It felt uncomfortable to have a stranger bring that up unexpectedly. It was something that used to happen all the time when he was a kid, but it had been a long while.
¡°So, about my family¡they¡¯re not terrible. For the most part. But they¡¯re so insulated by the Anesidoran bubble that they¡¯re completely out of synch with normal people.¡± Keiko took a sip from her coffee mug. ¡°You know how many of us have ever lived off the island? Me. And the really old folks, too, but that was before the island was even built. That¡¯s it. And the last time a Velra died during a summons? It was never.¡±
Alden frowned at her, trying to figure out what she was getting at.
¡°Most of their friends are people exactly like them. They¡¯re talented, rich, and powerful. But they don¡¯t do the superhero thing. They¡¯re all crazy deep in Avowed politics, but they probably know more Artonans personally than they do non-Avowed humans.¡±
She stared into the distance. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m only making excuses for them at this point. I¡¯m really just calling to facilitate so that they don¡¯t steamroll you with their assumptions. I¡¯m betting Hannah¡¯s memorial service is first on your priority list, and delivering Chainer to my niece is a distant second?¡±
¡°Isn¡¯t that obvious?¡± It was a funeral.
¡°You¡¯d think so. But no. It¡¯s not to them. They were just going to install you on a sofa beside Hazel for hours while they background searched you and tried to fix things with the current Rabbit-holder.¡±
Alden shook his head.
¡°Got it. Now, I¡¯m also assuming, given your personal history, that you must have very strong opinions about what kind of Avowed you want to be. So are you willing to take something other than Rabbit? Like a giant mountain of cash? Or no?¡±
Alden kind of wanted to ask just how mountainous the cash would be, but there was no reason to tempt himself. ¡°Only Rabbit,¡± he said firmly.
¡°Who are you talking to, kid?¡± Aimi asked suddenly. She sounded baffled. ¡°Me? Use more words, okay.¡±
Alden ignored her and focused on her saner sister.
Keiko¡¯s face had softened. ¡°Yeah, I understand,¡± she said in a sympathetic voice.
You definitely don¡¯t, Alden thought. She probably guessed he was latching on to one of the safest classes because of his childhood trauma. Or maybe even Hannah¡¯s recent death. It rankled, but it wasn¡¯t like he could correct her without an hour-long explanation.
¡°All right. Rabbit. Is there anything else you would need to make the deal?¡± she said.
¡°I¡¯d like¡¡±
How to put this? It was there in the letter. Maybe she didn¡¯t have access to it, though.
¡°I¡¯d like some assurance that I¡¯m not going to be embroiled in political stuff. I¡¯d rather not be some kind of outcast because I gave the class to your family?¡±
¡°Ha!¡± cried Aimi, apparently still under the impression that Alden was talking to her. ¡°Good luck with that! But don¡¯t sweat it. We¡¯ll like you. Beyond that, who cares?¡±
Keiko gnawed her lip. ¡°Well, you won¡¯t be ¡®embroiled in political stuff¡¯ anyway. You¡¯re what, sixteen? And all of your political value will evaporate the minute you hand Chainer over. But if you mean it in a more¡age-relevant¡way, are you saying you want to give us the class but have nobody be mad at you for it?¡±
That sounds childish now. But I don¡¯t care.
¡°Yes,¡± Alden said stubbornly.
¡°Okay.¡± Keiko looked a little strained. ¡°First of all¡it won¡¯t be that bad. There are a few unpleasant individuals who will blame you for it no matter what you do, but most people will assume you¡¯re an ignorant nobody. Also, the Gloss¡ªask Aimi about it if she hasn¡¯t told you¡ªisn¡¯t common knowledge yet. But it will be by the time you have to move to the island. Using that particular wordchain is going to buy us tons of shit and you tons of forgiveness by extension. The majority will think unavoidable weirdness happened to you and give you a pass.¡±
Well that wasn¡¯t even a lie. It felt a lot like unavoidable weirdness was happening to him right now.
¡°So you¡¯re saying I¡¯m good?¡±
¡°More or less¡¡±
¡°Why are you hesitating?¡± Alden asked, tightening his grip on his seatbelt.
Keiko sighed. ¡°Grandma Aulia has this thing. It¡¯s part of her personal religion almost.¡±
Alden didn¡¯t like the sound of what was coming.
¡°She¡¯ll want to keep ties with you even if you don¡¯t want that. She believes people brought into the family¡¯s orbit by powerful wordchains are significant. For us. Like¡cosmically ordained friends. Or enemies. Or assets. Or spouses.¡±
¡°No,¡± said Alden. ¡°Especially to the last one.¡±
¡°It¡¯s fine really,¡± she said in a placating tone. ¡°The rest of us know it¡¯s nuts. We mitigate. Uncle Corin is probably already planning to steer his mother into ignoring you. It hardly ever gets out of hand.¡±
¡°Hard pass.¡±
¡°You can¡¯t pass on something that¡¯s already swept you up,¡± she said gently. ¡°Trust me. Grandma will already think you¡¯re important. So you want to land on her dance card, not her hit list.¡±
Alden glared at her.
¡°Hey, don¡¯t look at me that way. I moved to the other side of the planet to get away from them. Just¡be boring for a few years, and you¡¯re golden.¡±
Be boring?
¡°One last thing, and then I¡¯ll make my sister let you go.¡±
Alden sat up straighter. Really? Right now. He hadn¡¯t known that was on the table.
¡°Would you be very offended if Hazel attended the memorial service?¡±
¡°What? So we can trade right there? Absolutely not. That¡¯s so¡ª¡±
Keiko held her hands up. ¡°Before you lose it, let me clarify. Hazel¡¯s affixation timer will be running out in just a few hours. Given the kind of service it will likely be, it might very well be a race to see which ends first. Once my family has managed to cut a deal with the Rabbit, she can trade with Hazel. Hazel will come to the funeral. You can swap person to person. It¡¯ll take like two text messages and half a minute. I swear.¡±
Alden stared out the windshield, thinking. It was stupid to feel like the suggestion was inappropriate. Especially if it was a necessity because of an alien time limit. But he still did feel that way.
Hannah wouldn¡¯t have cared. She liked practical, simple solutions.
¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°But what about witnesses?¡±
¡°Hazel¡¯s an authorized witness. She can vouch for both of you herself.¡±
Alden stared at her. ¡°That¡¯s the sketchiest thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±
¡°I told you my family knew more Artonans than they did regular humans. Wordchains are a big deal on the Triplanets, so someone who reaches a certain proficiency level with them is automatically considered worthy for some unique privileges. Hazel¡¯s¡a genius.¡±
The last words were said with something like grudging admiration.
¡°Yeah.¡± Keiko sighed. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ll take care of everything we just discussed and send you the details. I¡¯ll get them to throw in some bonuses. Do you like wordchains? Want a couple of freebies?¡±
Alden felt like that might be a trick question. ¡°Does saying yes mean your grandmother will pay closer attention to me?¡±
Keiko¡¯s face said it all.
¡°I¡¯m fine with Rabbit. And as much privacy as you can manage. And the money I asked for in my letter.¡±
¡°I understand. Go to the funeral. Hazel will show up. She¡¯ll be discreet. Nice to meet you, by the way.¡±
¡°You too. I think. Thanks for helping to sort it all out.¡±
###
Three minutes later, after arguing with the air for a while, Aimi pulled her car over beside a bookstore.
¡°Okay,¡± she said, pointing at Alden. ¡°If you run away, get lost, or get taken into custody by the police, the Gloss might not get you back for us since Keiko has interfered. So do not do any of those things. She¡¯ll be in big trouble.¡±
¡°Did she really interfere? I feel like she was actually helping your cause,¡± Alden retorted as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
¡°Hard to tell. I¡¯m not one of those people who can feel fluctuations in the chain¡¯s spheres of influence and various balances. That¡¯s mumbo-jumbo for prodigies and Artonans. I¡¯m just saying if you get my sister in trouble I¡¯ll give you trouble. Got me?¡±
He wanted to tell her she was exhausting. But there was no reason to stir things up when he was so close to getting back to the day he¡¯d had planned for himself. He wanted to be alone and think. And maybe take a minute to appreciate the fact that he was getting Rabbit squared away far more quickly than he¡¯d thought would be possible.
¡°I got you,¡± he said. ¡°Thanks for the ride.¡±
¡°Hey! You¡¯re welcome!¡± she said. ¡°Anytime. No hard feelings?¡±
She smiled and held her hand out for him to shake. With a mental sigh, Alden reached for it.
Only to freeze when his fingers were a couple of inches away from hers.
She¡¯s uneven.
With a feeling of shock, Alden recognized the foreignness of the thought. It had come from that new gremlin part of his brain that had strong opinions about burgers.
What? Hello? What does that even mean?
Then Aimi leaned forward to complete the handshake on her own. Their fingers touched.
She¡¯s uneven! the gremlin screeched.
In his hand, Aimi¡¯s felt¡odd. Uneven wasn¡¯t a bad word for it. It was like it weighed too much. Or it was too far to the right or left of where Alden knew it should be.
But though it was an uncomfortable sensation, it wasn¡¯t like the hard limit he was met with when he tried to eat meat. Shaking hands with Aimi Velra wasn¡¯t forbidden, it was just not right.
¡°Are we going to shake forever?¡± Aimi asked, still pumping Alden¡¯s arm up and down. ¡°Because it¡¯s getting weird.¡±
Alden realized he¡¯d been clinging to her despite the feeling of wrongness, trying to figure out what was going on.
He jerked away. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, flustered. ¡°Got distracted.¡±
After he watched her drive away, he spun and marched right into the bookstore. Maybe it¡¯s an Avowed thing? I haven¡¯t shaken hands with one since the mysterious blood ritual.
Channeling his non-existent inner extrovert, he walked up to the guy shelving books and stuck out his hand. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m new in town!¡±
The handshake he received was awkward. But it was not uneven.
Gorgon, thought Alden, staring down at his own fingers like they belonged to a stranger, what did you do to me?
TWENTY-THREE: Funeral
Hannah¡¯s service was being held in the memorial garden at her old alma mater.
Celena North University was in Apex, so Alden had to wear a lanyard with a large badge hanging from it that identified him as a minor and a non-Avowed. Ms. Zhao had called it the ¡°double squishy combo.¡± It looked dorky, and it came with a button he could press in the event of an emergency.
¡°Doesn¡¯t really go with my tie.¡± He was trying to position the thing beneath the striped silk fabric so that it wouldn¡¯t look so obvious.
¡°Yeah.¡± Cly jabbed a straw at the frozen dregs of a smoothie as they stepped off the campus bus. ¡°If it makes you feel better, plenty of Avowed have their own version of it. It¡¯s just attached to our System IDs. It¡¯s for prioritizing rescues.¡±
Apex was the part of Anesidora where restrictions on power usage were heavily relaxed. High-ranking superhumans lived, work, learned, and experimented here. It wasn¡¯t legal to punch holes in buildings or melt city streets, but it was understood that sometimes, the people who hung around on this part of the island were going to cause a minor catastrophe while they were figuring themselves out.
Alden really hoped he could get into one of the schools here. Apex was where superheroes trained. There were a couple of different universities with hero programs in addition to Celena. And to get into any of them, it would be best¡if not strictly necessary¡to attend one of their affiliated preperatory high schools first.
I have a stupidly huge amount of research to do when I get back home.
On top of figuring out what his new skill did, he¡¯d have to find a prep program that wouldn¡¯t use a B-rank Rabbit¡¯s application for toilet tissue. He seriously hoped one existed.
Three months were going to pass by in a blink.
¡°First we have to sit through the public service,¡± Cly was saying as they passed under an arch made of flowering vines and entered an open-air amphitheater.
The seating was a series of grass-covered terraces. At the base was a concrete stage, backed by large granite memorial stones.
A couple of people in shirts emblazoned with the university logo were down there doing mic checks. And a large group of teens and young adults were huddled up nearby. Alden thought they were musicians, since so many of them had instrument cases, but quite a few were carrying floral arrangements, too. They were all in uniform, wearing waistcoats over shirts with standing collars. Some were in monochromatic white and others in black.
¡°Honestly, it¡¯s going to be way too long,¡± Cly said, glancing down at the group. ¡°And way too crowded. Hannah had a ton of friends. Plus there¡¯s the freshman factor. We managed to control the number of speakers at least. We¡¯re going for a celebration of her life, but it¡¯s still a lot of sad to sit through. If you need to take a timeout, don¡¯t feel bad about leaving to catch your breath.¡±
Alden nodded. ¡°What¡¯s the freshman factor?¡±
¡°There¡¯s a hero school tradition. Freshmen at Celena North and first year students at the prep schools that feed into it are expected to attend services for alumni who die in the line of duty. It¡¯s to honor the dead and impress upon the living the dangers of the work.¡±
She pursed her lips. ¡°They aren¡¯t required to come to this one. Since Hannah went missing during a quest summons, it¡¯s not the same as her dying during hero duties. But some of them are going to show up anyway. Half because they think it¡¯s the right thing to do and half just because they want to see Hannah¡¯s mother.¡±
Hannah¡¯s mother was publicly known as The Gloom.
She was a London-based Sky Shaper who strategically modified weather systems for several countries in Europe. It wasn¡¯t traditional hero work. It wasn¡¯t even traditional Shaper work. It was more like hardcore atmospheric science plus some hush-hush spells she was rumored to have earned for extraordinary service on the Triplanets.
The Gloom wasn¡¯t famous for beating bad guys. As far as Alden knew, she¡¯d never even been in combat. She was famous for being a hyperbole¡ªthe nickname given to S¡¯s who had been rank upgraded by the System.
It had happened to less than a hundred people so far.
The first time, back in the seventies, the S-class in question had disappeared on a summons and then come back with a new rank. 1.
Everyone assumed it meant the guy was literally the number one most powerful Avowed in the world. And he leaned into it, doing hundreds of interviews and commercials. So he looked pretty ridiculous when it happened again a few years later to another person, and they, too, were ranked 1.
Apparently, once you got past S, the System was just done with letter grading.
So far, rank-ups had only been assigned to S¡¯s and a a few hundred more A¡¯s and B¡¯s. Most of them were Uniques instead of regular classes. It almost always happened immediately after a summons. They all claimed not to know why it had occurred.
It was perfect fodder for conspiracy theories and speculation, and there was a lot of that.
But Alden thought it was to be expected. Extreme outliers existed. There were always weirdos like Boe who somehow ended up with a 5.3 on a 4.0 grading scale.
And it wasn¡¯t like the handful of 1¡¯s were going around doing things leagues beyond the best of the S¡¯s. The Gloom was one of the better examples of someone operating at the limits of human ken, and she was a mild-mannered meteorologist.
Who¡¯d recently lost her daughter¡
¡°Nobody¡¯s going to bother her today, right?¡± he asked.
Cly shook her head. ¡°No. It should be fine. Like I said, student attendance at alumni funerals is a tradition, so there are layers of ritual and rules piled on top of it. It can actually add a lot to the atmosphere. Like the art school kids down there¡if the high school freshmen can stop arguing with the university freshmen then they¡¯ll take care of music. The students who come from the combat program have their own thing, too.¡±
She smiled. ¡°And if someone doesn¡¯t behave, I get to verbally eviscerate them. Which would be great stress relief. Oh, there¡¯s Ilya. I need to talk to him. Find yourself a seat, and let me know if you need anything, okay?¡±
The bottommost terraces were reserved for friends and family. Alden took a spot on the far edge, where he was shaded by an ornamental pear tree. It would be easy to leave from here if the Velra situation required it, and he¡¯d hopefully avoid too much socializing.
Keiko had sent him two updates so far, letting him know she had things under control.
Alden didn¡¯t have anything to do but wait for the service to get underway, so he started trying to train himself to use mental commands with the System interface. Post-kidnapping, it seemed more important than it had before. After fifteen minutes, he managed to make it bring up a preferences menu, but since he¡¯d been trying to access the internet instead, that was a fail.
Eyes aching from straining to see something that was really all in his head, he leaned back and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was getting too tempting to poke at the interface, and it would be conspicuous.
People were starting to trickle in for the service.
The group Cly had called ¡°art school kids¡± seemed to have finally sorted themselves out. Alden hadn¡¯t even known Celena North had an arts department, but he guessed it made sense. Some Avowed used their powers for entertainment. If you were a Vocal Brute, for example, it could be easier to get off-island jobs if you focused on opera instead of sonically shattering the bodies of evildoers.
The musicians took up posts along the edges of each of the terraces and started tuning. The people with the flower arrangements were much more interesting to watch, since they were obviously using their powers. One guy seemed to be magically freshening them all up. Every member of the group brought him their arrangement. He briefly touched stems, leaves, and petals and suddenly the plants all looked minutely better.
Alden wasn¡¯t sure if he was a Shaper or an Adjuster, but it was a neat trick.
A girl who was clearly a Water Shaper was going around strategically affixing droplets to some pieces so that they looked like they were bejeweled with dew.
An entirely different set of students were in charge of carrying the flowers and positioning them around the amphitheater. There were six of them. They moved in pairs, and each pair was perfectly in synch. Their motions were unnaturally flawless and light. Maybe they were dance majors. They clearly had enhanced physicals of some kind.
A pair of girls floated toward him like they were barely touching the grass and placed a white ikebana-style arrangement a few feet away on the terrace.
The students from the hero courses were also arriving, though they were too far away for Alden to get a really good look at them They had military-style formal jackets and they were positioning themselves in a loose outward-facing ring around the exterior of the amphitheater. Like an honor guard.
Other arrivals in slightly different jackets were taking up similar guard posts on the top terraces. Alden didn¡¯t know if the difference in positioning had to do with age or rank, or if maybe they were from another program entirely. If there were artists in attendance, there had to be superhuman teens who wanted to be scientists and engineers here as well.
I¡¯m completely surrounded by Avowed.
He would be one of them, too, once he affixed. But it might be hard to get used to the idea that almost everyone he encountered on a daily basis would have superpowers.
Uneven.
Alden jumped. Seriously. Again? What is it now?
His creepy new sixth sense was tingling. It was faint, but unignorable. He looked around and saw a pale boy dressed all in black about six feet away. He had a severe expression on his face, and he was undoing the clasps on a harp case. He was going to be the musician for this terrace.
Alden had noted him briefly among the art school teens earlier. Mostly because he looked like he was around ten years old. He¡¯d thought at first he might be someone¡¯s little brother, but he didn¡¯t have the dorky lanyard, so he must have been an Avowed. One who¡¯d yet to benefit from puberty.
He was the uneven person.
Alden stared at him for a little too long, and the harpist glanced over. ¡°Hello,¡± he said in a morose voice. ¡°Grandmother doesn¡¯t like Keiko¡¯s plan. She sent me to make sure you don¡¯t run away before Hazel gets here.¡±
What the fuck? Alden thought angrily.
¡°You can run away if you want, though.¡± The boy almost sounded hopeful. ¡°There¡¯s loads of places to hide on campus. I¡¯ll say I did my best but I couldn¡¯t find you. I haven¡¯t mastered any chains that would be good for a manhunt.¡±
Alden wanted to chew him out, but instead he settled for hissing, ¡°I¡¯ve already promised I¡¯d go through with it. Tell your crazy grandma to leave me alone!¡±
The Velra sighed. ¡°If I could boss her around, I wouldn¡¯t be here. I was supposed to be going to the theater with my friends today.¡±
He looked down at his own hands. ¡°I bet the blowback from the gloss takes my fingers from me. I¡¯ve thought about it a lot. It¡¯s just the right level of consequence and cruelty. Even if it¡¯s just a few¡ and it would make everyone but me happy, since they think focusing on music is wasteful.¡±
¡°Uh¡¡± said Alden.
It was a little hard to berate someone who seemed to be dead serious about losing his fingers in the near future.
¡°Anyway, I¡¯m Lute.¡± He closed his eyes, moved his hands around each other in a slow swirling motion and started whispering.
Alden recognized the hand gestures and cadence of a wordchain, though he could only pick out a couple of the actual Artonan words at this volume. He also had an unexpectedly strong sense of Lute¡¯s accuracy¡which wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d ever experienced in chaining classes at the consulate.
He¡¯d always thought it was a matter of hoping the chain linked you to an Opposite. But listening to the Velra boy chant, he was somehow sure that the link was forming.
Even stranger was the fact that Lute himself was becoming slightly less uneven as the chain progressed.
Holy shit, thought Alden, feeling enlightened. Is that what it means? Can I suddenly sense wordchain debt? How? Why?
Presumably, Lute was doing something to make his playing better.
If he¡¯d already spoken a sacrifice half for this type of chain, then it would mean his current one was balancing that line in his ledger.
Hey, gremlin me! Is that¡¯s what¡¯s going on?
But all he got in reply was a vague lessening of his own discomfort.
It made sense though. If the Velras were all walking around wearing superluck like armor, maybe that was why they were the only ones who felt off.
Which meant feeding Gorgon some of his blood had given Alden something potentially useful. Maybe. If he could actually figure out how to apply it instead of just using it to gauge when someone had recently cast the first half of a strong wordchain.
It can¡¯t be that sensitive, or I¡¯d be feeling imbalances from more people. Right?
Many people used minor wordchains like the ones Alden had learned in class. Apparently he couldn¡¯t detect those.
Or maybe those little ones just don¡¯t work often? Or they¡¯re actually way harder to get right than I thought, and most people don¡¯t do it correctly?
If that was it, he had wasted a lot of hours chanting for no good reason.
When Lute finished, Alden cleared his throat. ¡°What was that chain for?¡±
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.
He wanted to ask how strong it was, but that question seemed odd to lead with.
¡°For them,¡± said Lute, gesturing around the terraces at his fellow musicians. ¡°It¡¯s to increase their ability to harmonize. They¡¯re going to be hopeless without it. That guy on the guitar¡don¡¯t get me started.¡±
Lute plucked a few strings, and in response, an oboist at the back took up the melody. When Lute stopped, the oboist continued solo for a moment before a flutist joined in. Then the oboist quit, and the flutist had her own short solo before she was joined by the guitarist.
Alden didn¡¯t know anything about music, but the song was a soothing one. It felt appropriate for the event.
Lute was watching the other students critically. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said at last. ¡°Best we can hope for probably.¡±
¡°Your chains can buff other people? Groups of other people?¡±
There were healing chains specifically designed to be said on behalf of others, but Alden hadn¡¯t realized other wordchains could work that way. He¡¯d been shocked at the thought of the Gloss being cast on the whole Verla clan at once, but that seemed to be a Velra-specific thing. Aimi had said they could use their chains collectively. Being able to affect so many unrelated musicians had to be overpowered. And really expensive. How many hits to his own ¡°ability to harmonize¡± had Lute taken in order for this to balance it back out?
¡°Mass Bestowal is one of my S-rank skills,¡± said Lute.
Somebody¡¯s special.
That put things in a different light.
Tiny, moody harpist disenchanted with his family was one thing. S-rank casually using a buff ability Alden would kill for to make teenage musicians suck less was another animal entirely.
And he¡¯d said he had more than one skill.
If that was how it was, it seemed safest to ignore Lute¡¯s presence. Alden had to live on Anesidora for the rest of his life. He couldn¡¯t go around annoying crazy powerful people just because they had horrible grandmas. He let the conversation die.
The music continued to play while the amphitheater filled. Hannah really did have a lot of friends. Soon, Alden found himself offering to hold the ikebana arrangement to make room for more people on his terrace.
He ended up crammed in beside the harp, with white flowers and dew-flecked twigs partially obstructing his view.
The service started with an eloquent, but largely impersonal, speech from the dean of the hero college. He was followed by several people close to Hannah. They spoke about her passion for helping others, her dedication to her dreams, her kindness.
There were pictures projected by an Adjuster who controlled light.
It was a little overwhelming. And very inspiring.
The hero Hannah had been supporting for the past few years¡ªa middle-aged man based in Indonesia¡ªtalked at length about their work together. Her stabilization spells and her bubble had allowed him to use his own talents in new ways. He could rapidly heat and cool small areas, and Hannah had often protected civilians from the effects of the temperature shifts so that the power was useful in a wider variety of settings.
He read aloud a few letters from people they had saved together. A couple of them were from kids, and many of those present were wiping at their eyes by the end of it.
Alden spotted Cly Zhao, sitting front and center and weeping freely.
He looked away from her and cast a glance toward the back of the amphitheater. Arjun Thomas was back there, almost hidden behind the ranks of uniformed students who had stood in perfect silence for the entire service.
He looked stoic.
Alden had never quite gotten a handle on what Arjun¡¯s relationship with Hannah had become in the wake of the Body Drainer accident. Hannah spoke of him as a respected and trusted friend, but it was obvious they didn¡¯t spend time together or talk much.
Maybe hard feelings over something like that are just inevitable.
Alden didn¡¯t think it should be the case, but what did he know? He¡¯d never torn somebody in half with his bare hands before¡nor would he have to. Something like that had to mess with your head.
At the end of the service, all of the Celena North hero program students and alumni recited the school¡¯s pledge.
Then The Gloom, dabbing at her eyes behind her glasses, took to the stage and thanked everyone for being a part of Hannah¡¯s life.
¡°Friendships meant so much to her,¡± she said. ¡°And even the smallest kindnesses you gave her mean so very much to me.¡±
Alden thought her eyes lingered on him, but maybe it was just his imagination. They¡¯d never met before, and from the front, he must have looked like just a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a bunch of flowers.
There was a moment of silence.
When it was over, Lute spoke quietly over the sound of the crowd climbing to their feet and collecting their belongings. ¡°Hazel¡¯s just arrived. She¡¯ll message you in a second. Last chance to escape. If you leave with everyone else, you can probably screw her over.¡±
Alden looked at him over the top of a chrysanthemum.
¡°You hate your cousin or something?¡±
Lute¡¯s grim expression soured further. He drummed his fingers on his harp case. Finally, he said, ¡°She¡¯s a very talented and hard-working person. She¡¯ll probably go far in life.¡±
¡°You have an unusual way of insulting people.¡±
He shrugged. ¡°Maybe I just like my fingers too much.¡±
Alden¡¯s interface flared. A text message scrolled by:
[Hi, Alden! I¡¯m here on a bench outside the amphitheater. We¡¯ve only got about twenty minutes. Should I come to you, or do you want to come out here?]
Alden stood and set the flowers down.
¡°Sorry about your friend. Seems like she was cool,¡± said Lute. ¡°See you around.¡±
Alden dearly hoped he didn¡¯t see much of any of the Velras after today.
He blended into the crowd, careful to avoid Cly¡¯s eyes, and passed under one of the floral arches.
[To your left. Behind the rose trellis.]
Alden went behind the trellis and found the mysterious Hazel sitting on a concrete bench.
She looked normal. He didn¡¯t know why that surprised him.
She had shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes, and she was pretty in a well-kept kind of way. Her black dress fit her like it had been made for her. Her teeth were probably on a poster in some orthodontist¡¯s office.
¡°Hi!¡± she said, smiling brightly. ¡°I¡¯m glad to meet you. Seriously glad. I¡¯ve been so stressed out for the past few months. Can we just trade fast, or do you need to read over the contract? I¡¯m sending it to you now. It¡¯s a few pages, so you¡¯ll have to speed read.¡±
Alden was definitely going to read the whole thing.
He sat down beside her and scrolled through page after page. He did go fast, out of consideration for the fact that he and Hazel would both be sitting on classes they didn¡¯t want in a few minutes if he didn¡¯t. But, fortunately, the language was plain enough that he didn¡¯t think he was missing anything critical.
Hazel fidgeted beside him the whole time, her heels crunching against the gravel beneath the bench.
¡°You¡¯re giving me one and a half million Argold,¡± Alden said, trying to sound not freaked out by the number.
¡°Is that enough?¡± she asked quickly. ¡°It¡¯s the usual amount for a rare S-rank trade. It¡¯s what they gave the person Lute traded with. He¡¯ll tell you. Keiko said we had to give you more than usual for B because Aimi was unprofessional. I can ask grandmother for more.¡±
It was nearly five million dollars. Boe was going to lose his mind. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±
¡°So we can trade now?¡±
He frowned at her. ¡°Let me finish.¡±
The last two pages weren¡¯t actually contract at all. It was a list of wordchains. Four sets with both the sacrificer¡¯s and the recipient¡¯s portion written out phonetically. Video examples were included. Alden hadn''t heard of these chains before, and he wondered if they were ones you couldn¡¯t usually learn unless you were in good with the Artonans.
So I¡¯m getting them whether I want them or not¡
It wasn¡¯t like he could throw them away. Did the System even have a permanent delete feature?
¡°Was Lute awful to you?¡± Hazel said suddenly. Alden noted she¡¯d nearly picked all the polish off one of her fingernails.
¡°It wasn¡¯t okay for your grandmother to install a spy at a funeral. Even if he is a student at one of the schools.¡±
¡°He¡¯s been an arrogant brat to everyone ever since he got S.¡±
Way to ignore what I said.
¡°Let me finish reading.¡±
He was already finished. He just wanted a second to think. The contract seemed fine. Good in fact. Better than what he¡¯d asked for. There was even an NDA signed by around two dozen Velras that said they wouldn¡¯t discuss any of today¡¯s events.
Alden didn¡¯t have any way of telling if that included all of the people who knew about him, but it was something.
This is pretty great for me. Except for the whole scary-lady-thinking-the-universe-wants-us-to-be-besties thing. Alden scratched at the side of his nose. And I don¡¯t really like Hazel.
It was hard to put his finger on why. It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d said or done anything horrible in the past few minutes. Actually, compared to every other member of the family he¡¯d met today, she came across as kind of bland.
And as far as he could tell, she wasn¡¯t uneven. Which might make sense if the Velra Gloss could only be applied to the Avowed family members¡
So Hazel getting Chainer is just straight-up lucky for the entire family?
¡°Everyone says you¡¯re a prodigy,¡± Alden noted.
She lit up. ¡°I have highly attuned senses for certain kinds of magic! It means I can monitor a wordchain¡¯s strength and repercussions better than other people. So when I get Chainer, the boost from that on top of my natural talent will put me a step ahead of the others.¡±
¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡±
He felt like it was a neutral thing to say, but Hazel¡¯s smile broadened. Apparently she was eager to share more on the subject.
¡°To tell you the truth, right now I can barely stand to be around my own family. The Gloss is such a strong chain that it gives me this buzzing in my head every time I¡¯m near one of them. It¡¯s strange to me that other people can¡¯t hear it. Even other Chainers! Some of the older family members can detect chains if they try, but they¡¯re not so aware of it that it bothers them.¡±
She laughed lightly and tucked her hair behind her ear. ¡°I bet you think I¡¯m crazy, don¡¯t you? To want to be even better at something that annoys me. But everyone thinks I¡¯ll be able to achieve great things with it.¡±
Alden filed that information away, trying not to react. Was the same thing going on with him? It sounded similar but not identical. Either way, it was nice to have confirmation that it might be useful.
¡°So¡um¡are you done reading?¡± Hazel asked.
¡°Hm? Oh, yeah. Let¡¯s trade.¡±
He drew his signature in the air with his fingertip, and the contract was finalized.
She sighed with relief. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll initiate.¡±
Half a second later, Alden received the notification.
[Hazel Dinah Velra has requested a class trade. Hazel Dinah Velra is an authorized witness. You have been vouched for by an authorized witness. Negotiations are approved.]
[TRADE CHAINER CLASS FOR RABBIT CLASS?]
YES/NO
Yeah. Hazel being able to witness her own trades is a loophole the size of the planet.
Alden was sure a lot of legit witnesses would find the Velras¡¯ use of the gloss to be a step too far. It wasn¡¯t like they were forcing him, but having your life realigned so that you landed exactly where they needed you to¡so sketchy.
He did want to buy what they were selling, though.
He clicked yes.
[Both selectees have confirmed the trade. Both selectees have been vouched for by an authorized witness. Please wait. Your class is being reassigned.]
Alden stood up, feeling lighter than he had in days. He had worries about Rabbit, but it was freeing not to be stuck in limbo, waiting to find out what class he¡¯d finally end up with.
¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± Hazel sounded surprised.
¡°I have to get back. Why? We don¡¯t need to stay together for the class to be reassigned right?¡±
It had taken a couple of minutes last time. He didn¡¯t want to hang out with her if he didn¡¯t have to.
¡°No¡but I¡¯m going to affix it as soon as I get it. Because of the timer.¡±
¡°Makes sense. Good luck. I hope it works out great for you.¡±
He turned and left.
He was already back inside the amphitheater, heading down toward the group of Hannah¡¯s friends who were mingling by the granite memorial stones, when he realized Hazel had actually expected him to stick around for her affixation.
I guess it is an important moment?
Andrzej had said he was going to do it at a party his family was planning.
But it¡¯s not like we even know each other. And some of her relatives have to be lurking around campus somewhere¡
Alden wouldn¡¯t be surprised if there were thirty Velras hiding in the bushes, waiting to jump him if he reneged on the deal.
He put it out of his mind.
Now that all of the students and many of the other attendees had left, it was time for the private part of the event. Alden hovered at the edge of the group, not really sure he belonged here, while everyone spoke quietly and watched as Hannah¡¯s name was carved into the memorial as if by invisible fingers.
Alden didn¡¯t know if the magic was a feature of the stones themselves or if there was a hidden spellcaster.
When the class re-assignment notice popped up, he swiped it away and kept watching in silence.
It took several minutes and there was something both terrible and cathartic about seeing the letters inscribe themselves one by one. The Gloom was shaking with silent tears.
When it was over, Alden wondered if he should try to make a quick getaway. Cly Zhao didn¡¯t look like she was in any condition to babysit him on the way back to the Teleportation Complex like she¡¯d planned to do.
And the chances of him being clobbered by some out of control superhuman on his way out of Apex were probably small.
But as he started to quietly sneak away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Hannah¡¯s mother. She really did look a lot like her daughter.
¡°You¡¯re Alden.¡±
It wasn¡¯t a question, but Alden nodded anyway.
¡°Your forgiveness removed a heavy burden from Hannah¡¯s shoulders,¡± she told him. ¡°I¡¯ll never forget that.¡±
A few people were surreptitiously watching them. Alden felt his face heating. It was only half embarrassment. The rest was nerves. He didn¡¯t want to say the wrong thing at a moment like this.
¡°I don¡¯t feel like there was anything to forgive. Hannah was¡I look up to her.¡±
He¡¯d almost said she was the kind of hero he wanted to be, but he didn¡¯t want to out himself here and now.
¡°I miss her,¡± said The Gloom.
There was such a simple, aching pain in the words. It made Alden¡¯s breath stop.
¡°Yeah.¡± His eyes were stinging. Damn, I can¡¯t. It felt too selfish to cry in front of Hannah¡¯s family, so he tried to rein it in. ¡°I miss her, too.¡±
TWENTY-FOUR: Rabbit
Rabbit
It was late when Alden teleported back home. To his surprise, Boe was hanging out on the sofa using Alden¡¯s laptop like it was community property.
¡°Do you just live here now or something?¡± Alden tossed him a bag of banana chips. ¡°You¡¯ll note from the price sticker that these cost less than fifteen dollars.¡±
He¡¯d wanted to get a fresh banana, but it was against customs regulations.
¡°You spend the day in hero land, and all I get is,¡±¡ªBoe adjusted his glasses and checked the tag¡ª¡°a seven dollar snack size bag of freeze-dried fruit. That¡¯s robbery. You¡¯re making my point for me. You¡¯re going to starve to death.¡±
Alden was tired and drained, but he had actually been anticipating this moment for the past couple of hours while he sat waiting for his teleport time slot in the departures lounge.
¡°I might,¡± he agreed, trying to sound casual as he kicked off his shoes. ¡°Only got five million for Chainer. Hey, where¡¯s Aunt Connie?¡±
¡°She went out for drinks with some friends¡¡± Boe¡¯s fingers froze on the keyboard. ¡°Wait. Run that sentence past me again.¡±
Alden grinned. ¡°I said, ¡®Hey, where¡¯s Aunt Connie?¡¯¡±
Boe flung the banana chips at him. ¡°You¡¯re not serious?!¡±
¡°I seriously wanted to know where she was. She¡¯s my aunt. I do love her, you¡ª¡±
¡°You jerk! We have to call Jeremy. How did you already get paid? Did you just go to the Velra mansion and knock? And how did you get five million, you total pushover? You were there for a funeral!¡±
¡°Hey, don¡¯t throw my laptop around like that!¡±
¡°You can buy yourself another one with all of your newfound wealth.¡± Boe was reaching for his phone. ¡°Rabbit? Or did you chicken out and ask for Adjuster in the end?¡±
¡°Rabbit,¡± Alden said, checking his computer for damage. ¡°It was a long day. The funeral went well. As well as a funeral can go. It still feels strange to say goodbye to her when nobody even knows what happened. As for how everything else went down¡the Velras are batshit.¡±
Boe eyeballed him. ¡°Did you already affix? You don¡¯t look like you did.¡±
Alden snorted and flopped onto the sofa. It felt good to be home. ¡°You think it would show? With Rabbit?¡±
Boe shrugged. ¡°A little maybe. Jeremy¡¯s not picking up.¡±
¡°I didn¡¯t affix. I was worried the security scanner at the teleport place might be able to tell. I¡¯ll do it in the morning when I¡¯m rested. And I need to freshen up my knowledge of all things Rabbit before I have to make final decisions.¡±
¡°That¡¯s what I was doing on your computer. Since you know your skill choice, the big thing will be your trait selection. I¡¯ve never paid much attention to that before since it¡¯s Rabbit, but it¡¯s a good feature. Kind of like getting to choose your own class subtype. I think¡¡±
Alden listened while Boe rambled on.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow is the real start of it all.
Jeremy woke the entire house up on Sunday morning by banging on the front door at six AM.
¡°I was afraid you were going to affix it without me,¡± he whispered, while Boe flipped him off with both middle fingers.
Alden apologized to his slightly hungover aunt, told her she could go back to sleep, and sent Jeremy to fetch breakfast as punishment.
¡°This is probably the only time in my whole life I¡¯ll ever get to see anyone become an Avowed,¡± Jeremy said in a pitiful voice as Alden shoved him back out the door.
¡°I¡¯m not going to do it without you. I¡¯m not even fully conscious yet. Plus there won¡¯t be anything amazing for you to see.¡±
At least he didn¡¯t think there would be. Some people fainted, but even if Alden was one of them, it wouldn¡¯t be much to look at.
An hour later, they were all eating convenience store snacks together in the floor of Alden¡¯s bedroom, trying to talk quietly about trait selection so that they wouldn¡¯t wake up Connie.
¡°We should just do this at the consulate,¡± Boe said finally. ¡°I can¡¯t argue properly with a volume limit. And Skiff shouldn¡¯t be spying anymore, right?¡±
¡°Definitely not if he worked for the Velras. Probably not if he didn¡¯t. My listing for Chainer would have disappeared when I traded the class.¡±
¡°I can¡¯t believe you two escaped from a superhero without me.¡±
¡°We quietly walked past him, Jeremy. It was no big deal,¡± Alden said.
¡°Well yeah¡if you¡¯re comparing it to getting stolen away in broad daylight by a gorgeous chick in a sports car.¡±
¡°She was stressful. And forty-something.¡±
¡°I looked her up online. I think you¡¯ve got to be wrong about that.¡±
¡°Completely monopolizing a Healer to give your family eternal youth is fairytale villain stuff,¡± Boe said. ¡°Gotta respect it.¡±
They continued the conversation on their way to the consulate, where Gorgon let them in even though it wasn¡¯t yet officially open.
Alden ran straight to the desk. ¡°I got Rabbit!¡± he said excitedly. ¡°I¡¯m going to affix it this morning.¡±
¡°I see,¡± Gorgon said, not looking away from his monitors. ¡°You may use the basement if you wish. We will be open to the public soon, and making adjustments to your class during affixation can take some time.¡±
¡°I know you can¡¯t say anything encouraging, but I can sense your enthusiasm buried deep, deep down.¡±
I hope. A tiny part of Alden was still paranoid that the luggage thing was a coincidence. And right after he affixed, Gorgon was going to say something like, ¡°You moron. Why would I ever suggest a loser class like Rabbit?¡±
That¡¯s not what¡¯s going to happen. It¡¯ll be fine. There will be something about the luggage skill that makes it good.
They took the elevator down to the hall of beige-ness.
¡°Awesome!¡± Jeremy said, racing toward the first door and jostling the handle. ¡°Aww¡this one¡¯s locked.¡±
He went to the next and tried to turn its handle, too.
¡°Yes, keep doing that. I¡¯ve always wanted to be killed by some eldritch abomination the Artonans are keeping hidden away underground,¡± Boe said.
¡°I think if he manages to open one it¡¯s more likely to be a storage closet. Or a conference room.¡±
¡°This one¡¯s open!¡± Jeremy shouted.
¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s the one we¡¯re allowed to use,¡± Alden told him.
¡°Wow. Were you planning to move in down here?¡± Jeremy stepped over the rumpled sleeping bag and water bottles.
¡°Yeah, I was. I thought I¡¯d have to trade 24/7 for the next few months to get something good. But¡the Velras happened.¡±
Boe was fondling the cloudy crystal table. ¡°I wonder what this thing is made of.¡±
¡°Magic stuff.¡±
Alden frowned, remembering something. ¡°I told B74 I¡¯d come back. I did mean to. That asshole is going to think I¡¯m an even bigger asshole.¡±
¡°If he doesn¡¯t like the taste of it, he shouldn¡¯t serve it to other people,¡± said Boe.
Jeremy took the folding chair, so after a moment¡¯s consideration, Alden hopped up to sit on the edge of the trading table.
¡°Are you going to do it now?¡± Jeremy asked eagerly.
Boe shot him a look. ¡°Stop asking that every twelve seconds. He might have a few reservations about signing his life away, you know.¡±
¡°Why would he? Your choices are saying ¡®yes¡¯ to the contract and getting a thank-you prize. Or saying ¡®no¡¯ and getting squat. You become a superhuman either way.¡±
Jeremy was right. The only reason anyone would reject the contract was out of deeply held anti-Artonan beliefs or because they were scared of being summoned. It wasn¡¯t an official policy, but it was widely known that the aliens deprioritized people who refused to agree, even if they wouldn¡¯t outright delete them from their list of potential summonses.
They preferred to use willing helpers before they resorted to angry or petrified ones.
¡°I¡¯m good to go,¡± Alden said. ¡°I think. I just need to say yes. Pick the skill. See what traits are offered with it. Become amazing.¡±
Boe snorted. ¡°Become a bunny you mean.¡±
¡°I¡¯m going to use my new luggage carrying powers against you.¡±
¡°¡I¡¯m sure that sounded more threatening in your head.¡±
¡°You can use your powers on me!¡± Jeremy volunteered.
¡°Thank you, Jeremy. You¡¯re my favorite friend.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s do it.¡±
He opened up the System¡¯s acceptance page. There was an option to listen to the selection speech again, and his finger hovered over it. But he knew that was only anxiety. He¡¯d nearly memorized it when he was a kid. There were no secrets hidden in the words.
[Pre-affixed Selectee: Samuel Alden Thorn]
[Divergence Rank: B]
[Assigned Class: Rabbit]
¡
[Samuel Alden Thorn, do you willingly accept your duties as one of Earth¡¯s Avowed, thereby satisfying a portion of your planet¡¯s debt to Artona?]
[YES/NO]
2091 h: 23 m: 11 s
¡°I would like to accept the Interdimensional Warriors Contract.¡±
He spoke in a deliberately steady voice. It felt like an occasion where you should say it out loud instead of just clicking.
¡°Oh, shit. He¡¯s really doing it,¡± Jeremy whispered, staring at Alden with huge eyes.
¡°Let him focus.¡±
The acceptance page disappeared.
¡°Welcome, Alden,¡± the System murmured in his ear. ¡°And thank you for your future service. Please take your time refining your choices for class-specific options. You have two thousand ninety-one hours before they will be randomly affixed.¡±
¡°It¡¯s done,¡± Alden said.
Before he could add anything else, six new points of light appeared in front of his eyes and bloomed into option panes.
FOUNDATION
SKILLS
SPELLS
WARDROBE
PRIVILEGES
FINALIZE AFFIXATION
¡°My palms are literally sweating. Isn¡¯t that stupid?¡± Alden dried them on his jeans. He hesitated for a second, then selected FOUNDATION.
He already knew what it should look like, since the stat bonuses for every class and rank, except the uniques, were standardized. But he still wanted to see it.
Foundation was divided into two subcategories. One called Foundational Enhancements and one called Class Effects. Alden chose the first, and scanned through it.
It¡¯s totally normal. He¡¯d wondered if giving his blood to Gorgon might have some effect on his stats¡but if it did, it wasn¡¯t reflected here. Makes sense I guess. The System¡¯s only listing the things it will add itself.
It didn¡¯t even list whatever Alden¡¯s base stats as a fairly-average human teenager were. It just started from zero.
FOUNDATIONAL ENHANCEMENTS
Note: 1 pt is roughly equal to a 10 percent improvement over your species average. Rank-based class bonuses have been automatically applied.
Sympathy for Magic +4
Processing +0.25
Appeal +1
Agility +0
Dexterity +0.5
Speed +0
Stamina +0.25
Strength +0
Alden sighed. ¡°That full point being automatically applied to Appeal instead of something else really rubs the wrong way.¡±
Rabbits were the only class that had a starting bonus in that category. Probably because the Artonans expected to have to deal with them more often and in more social settings.
¡°Tons of places require a full point or more in it for hero work anyway,¡± said Jeremy.
¡°I know. Everyone wants their hero team to be friendly and photogenic. But still¡¡±
The stats listed here were just the tip of a vast and complicated iceberg. The System tried to simplify things for people who didn¡¯t want to get double Ph. D¡¯s in the human body and the magical mutation of it.
Any point added to one of these top-level stats was actually being divided and applied to all the various physical and mental components that formed that quality. If Alden selected Appeal and dug down into the sub-stat menus, he knew he¡¯d find that the point was affecting all kinds of different things, from his facial symmetry to his ability to empathize with others.
As part of the 1963 Agreement, the Artonans weren¡¯t allowed to force psychological adjustments on humans through the System, though. So prior to affixing the point, Alden could delete the percentage of it that would make him better at playing well with others.
But doing that, especially with a single point, was a bad look for someone who wanted to go the hero route.
Next, he selected Class Information.
RABBIT - RANK B
Class Standard: Your eyes are wide open to the workings of magic. Your ears await the Triplanets¡¯ call. All Rabbits receive at least one skill.
Rank Perk:
*You may choose one spell impression from the spell list prior to affixation.
*You may choose one spell impression from the spell list after affixation.
Class Perk:
* You may select your primary class trait.
* Rabbit''s Wardrobe
Class Penalties:
*Your summons response timer is set to 48 seconds. (Note: All emergency summons are instantaneous. Response to emergency summons will be commensurately rewarded.)
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
*Summoners will not offer access to skills or spell impressions in exchange for your regular services. Summoners may still offer foundation points, tools, or spell instruction for extraordinary service.
*New skills and spell impressions are only available upon leveling of starter skills or upon long-term personal assignment to approved parties.
*Your quest rejection/acceptance ratio may not exceed 1/20.
Class Trait:
Please finalize skill selection to unlock this option.
¡°No surprises,¡± Alden noted as he finished reading through it. ¡°The summons response time is like something from a comedy.¡±
Other classes usually had multiple hours or even days notice before they were summoned for non-emergencies. Forty-eight seconds was barely long enough to put clothes on if you got summoned in the middle of a shower.
Under Privileges, he found his signing gift. He was allowed to choose among three options: three stat points to spend in foundation, a tool called The Fragile Atmosphere, and the Rabbit class spell Wardrobe Change.
The Fragile Atmosphere was offered as a signing bonus to almost every class. It was a single-use life support device that would give you around six minutes of Earth air, gravity, and atmospheric pressure. It was a great ¡°oh shit¡± button in all kinds of situations, but single-use was hard to swallow.
Wardrobe Change was slightly better than it sounded. It was a short spell that would let you quickly swap between various pieces of gear you had purchased from the Wardrobe all Rabbits had access to. But the stat bonuses on Rabbit gear were so small they were almost decorative.
¡°The foundation stat bonuses will be the best,¡± Alden said.
¡°Don¡¯t just assume that. You haven¡¯t even read the detailed description for your skill yet.¡±
¡°I know, Boe. I¡¯m doing it.¡±
Moment of truth. Alden selected SKILLS, bit his lower lip, and scrolled through the seemingly endless options toward the L¡¯s.
There was a chance¡ªa very slim one¡ªthat Let Me Take Your Luggage wouldn¡¯t be there. The System made adjustments all the time. And it sometimes limited the number of people who had certain skills or spells by deleting them from the list of available options when it had met its quota.
But it was there. Right between two equally mysterious options.
[Let Me Make You Toast ¡ª Rank: F]
The Rabbit makes near-perfect toast every time.
[Let Me Take Your Luggage ¡ª Rank: B]
The Rabbit carries an item that has been entrusted to them.
[Letter Writing ¡ª Rank: D]
The Rabbit has near-perfect penmanship.
¡°Well, don¡¯t accidentally click the wrong one.¡± Boe raised an eyebrow when Alden read the other two aloud.
¡°Yeah. Those suck,¡± Jeremy said. ¡°Who wants perfect penmanship? Just type that shit.¡±
The instructions at the top of the skill list said Alden could have one B skill or a D and an F. Not two Fs or one C or any other logical-seeming combination. The unavailable skills weren¡¯t even listed.
¡°Why do you think they don¡¯t really explain what some of the skills do until we select them?¡± Alden asked, staring at the interface. ¡°It seems spiteful now that I¡¯m actually in this position.¡±
¡°It¡¯s because the Artonans are dicks,¡± Boe said.
¡°My parents think it¡¯s one of the ways they slow the pace of human knowledge acquisition without violating the terms of the 1963 Agreement. Their deal with Earth requires them to give us access to a certain amount of magic and tech and stuff. It doesn¡¯t require them to tell us what it does or how to use it.¡±
Boe and Alden both looked at him.
¡°They¡¯re lawyers. They had to do entire classes on Artona/Earth contracts in law school.¡±
Alden considered it. ¡°So¡it¡¯s because they¡¯re dicks. Here we go then. Let¡¯s hope Gorgon knows what he¡¯s doing.¡±
He took a deep breath and selected the skill.
[Let Me Take Your Luggage is a B-rank skill. You will not be able to choose another skill at this time. Attempting to de-affix this skill through magical means is forbidden and will cause severe harm to your person. Are you certain of your choice?]
¡°Yes.¡± He wished he was a little more certain, but everyone probably felt that way no matter what they were choosing.
There was a brief pause, then the skill description expanded.
Alden felt a rush of excitement. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, we have details! Oh, wow. This is real!¡±
¡°Which of us is the lady?¡± Jeremy stage whispered to Boe.
Alden didn¡¯t hear Boe¡¯s reply. He was too busy reading about his new magic skill that did something magical.
His heart was racing as he scanned the description.
Please be awesome. Please be awesome.
Let Me Take Your Luggage (Level One)
*While you are carrying a tangible item that has been entrusted to you by your target, the item will be preserved.*
Cessation of carriage will end preservation.
Loss of contact will end entrustment.
Retargeting will end entrustment.
Summoners will be autotargeted for heightened efficiency.
* Rabbit Class Benefit: Trait Selection has been made available. Appropriate traits are now listed on the class page.
Alden read the description several times. ¡°Huh,¡± he said finally.
¡°That bad?¡± Jeremy asked.
¡°You¡¯re not really going to grow extra arms are you?¡± said Boe.
Alden grinned. ¡°No. It¡¯s good. I think? It¡¯s just not any of the things I guessed it might be. There are a lot of unknowns even with the extended description.¡±
He read it aloud slowly.
Jeremy looked confused, Boe surprised.
¡°It¡¯s for preserving a carried object? I really didn¡¯t expect that either. I thought¡¡±
He trailed off, and Jeremy jumped in. ¡°Did you think it was going to make him hella strong? Because I did. I thought he¡¯d be able to carry cars around as long as some he-man passed them to him first.¡±
¡°Yeah I considered that. But actually my favorite theory was heading in a more metaphorical direction. I thought maybe he could temporarily take away peoples¡¯ pain or stress or something. Like a fast-acting, mini Healer of Mind. It would work for support.¡±
¡°I was hoping for my own portable pocket dimension,¡± Alden confessed. ¡°A bit.¡±
¡°Oh my god. Really? As a B-rank?¡±
¡°I thought maybe a little one¡¡±
¡°Those stat supplements are small, by the way,¡± Jeremy said, frowning. ¡°Isn¡¯t he supposed to get closer to ten altogether?¡±
Boe nodded. ¡°Yeah, three and a half is puny for a class that only gets one rank-appropriate skill. Theoretically that means the System thinks the skill is near maximum value for B. But¡¡±
¡°I¡¯m going to be so squishy,¡± Alden agreed, trying not to feel disappointed. ¡°Regular human squishy.¡±
¡°You¡¯ll have your armor when you drop some Argold in Wardrobe, Mr. Millionaire,¡± Boe said. ¡°But yeah. You¡¯re starting wayyy behind the curve physically if you want to hang around actual superhero fights. I noticed your skill description doesn¡¯t say you¡¯ll be preserved. Only whatever you¡¯re carrying.¡±
¡°Yep. And it¡¯s doing whole point increases of proprioception and visual processing. That¡¯s niche. Wouldn¡¯t it usually just throw it all into Agility? Or even head down a level from that and directly boost Balance?¡±
¡°Read it all to me again?¡± Boe had pulled out the laptop.
Alden did. When he got to the stats, he tried to consider what the System was thinking he¡¯d need them for. It was an additional clue, since presumably it had chosen the ones that would make him best able to use the skill effectively when he was summoned.
¡°It doesn¡¯t want me to fall down?¡± he guessed.
¡°That¡¯s what I think, too,¡± Boe said,. ¡°And it doesn¡¯t seem to expect you to be knocked over a lot in the course of your Rabbit chores. The percentage strength boost that will naturally come with the Agility buff is too small. It might just be enough so that you can make use of the increase in proprioception. Along with the visual acuity¡I think it¡¯s just worried about you tripping over stuff or navigating crowds?¡±
¡°So the skill is more often used for carrying delicate things than heavy things?¡± Alden suggested. ¡°That¡¯s what it sounds like.¡±
¡°Right. Human strength and stamina must be sufficient for most summoners¡¯ purposes. But the preservation effect ends if you fall or drop the ¡®item.¡¯ So, the System wants you to not do that.¡±
Jeremy cleared his throat. ¡°What you¡¯re saying is¡it¡¯s a skill designed for transporting expensive vases?¡±
Alden tried not to feel offended. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± he said. ¡°Nobody needs to preserve a vase.¡±
Actually what I really need to understand is what the System means by preservation in the first place. Am I supposed to be like a walking mini-fridge for perishables?
Boe seemed to be thinking along the exact same lines. ¡°I think he¡¯d be better at carrying something like an ice sculpture than a vase,¡± he said. ¡°The preservation has to be the important part. The natural thing to assume is that it stops the item you¡¯re given from being damaged by outside effects, right? Like heat and cold and impacts.¡±
¡°So it¡¯ll be a shield for whatever he¡¯s got in his hands?¡± Jeremy said, perking up. ¡°That¡¯s cooler.¡±
¡°Maybe. It doesn¡¯t say he has to use his hands, though. Or that there¡¯s definitely a shield involved. We¡¯re just guessing on those things until he actually finalizes it.¡±
Alden grinned. ¡°Oh, I hope it¡¯s a shield effect! Do you know how perfect that would be? I could have someone hand me a trash can lid, and as long as I was carrying it, everything would bounce off the shield around it, right?¡±
He paused, realizing something. ¡°¡®Cessation of carriage¡¯ is separate from ¡®loss of contact.¡¯ That means it doesn¡¯t consider holding and carrying to be the same thing. So¡I¡¯ll have to be moving for the skill to be active.¡±
Boe¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Right! Not just moving though. Carrying. We don¡¯t know how it defines that exactly. Can you hold something in your lap while you ride around in a car? Or do you have to be moving under your own power?¡±
The first would be so much better.
Alden¡¯s imagination was running wild with possibilities. If the shield thing was right, and he could use a car¡ No. Stop. I¡¯m getting ahead of myself.
He couldn¡¯t choose his trait and signing bonus based on what he hoped the skill did. He had to be realistic.
¡°I bet I have to move the object on my own. Or we should assume that. To be safe, we should probably assume that I have to physically bear the entire weight of whatever the thing is, too. The System wouldn¡¯t be giving me specific anti-tripping stats if I could easily avoid dropping my object by keeping one hand on it while I rode around in a vehicle. I need to think this through.¡±
Boe and Jeremy went quiet, and Alden spent the next few minutes with his eyes closed, trying to imagine different scenarios in which he might use the skill.
As far as what he would be doing with it when and if he was summoned, he had a feeling Boe wasn¡¯t too far off the mark with the ¡°carrying ice sculptures¡± thing. Only instead of ice sculptures it would be something much more finicky and valuable to the Artonans¡maybe delicate magical devices or crumbling historical documents that needed to be moved carefully.
Maybe he¡¯d be doing mostly specialized courier work.
But that was on Artona. Presumably the skill alone was sufficient to make him worthwhile as a summons from the aliens¡¯ perspective.
The question was, how did Alden turn it into something he could use here on Earth, where he¡¯d be spending most of his time and eventually trying to get a job as a battlefield support.
Even if he could use the item he was carrying as a magic shield¡it would have to be a certain size to be useful. If he could make shrapnel bounce off something like a tablecloth that would be fantastic. But what if it didn¡¯t work that way?
And if it did, how would he get himself and his super tablecloth where they needed to be on a battlefield or for a rescue operation?
After a long while, he said, ¡°I think trying for higher mobility and reaction time is the right choice?¡±
Jeremy leaned back in the chair, ¡°You mean taking the stat bonus as your signing gift and dropping it all in Agility and Speed?¡±
¡°Pretty much. I¡¯m hoping I can shield myself with the carried item. But whether I can or not, it¡¯ll be more valuable for me to be quick. Maybe I¡¯ll be carrying¡things?¡for heroes, or just trying to get out of the way in a pinch. A Rabbit¡¯s not going to be able to go toe-to-toe physically with many villains anyway.¡± He paused. ¡°I could dig down a little and drop a partial point in Reflexes? Or even instinct?¡±
¡°Don¡¯t screw with instinct,¡± Boe said, drumming his fingers on the table. ¡°That one makes people real paranoid if they overdo it. But everything else you just said makes sense. You need to dodge hits, not take them in the face. And if the System¡¯s leaning toward boosting your balance and situational awareness anyway, it¡¯s probably good to go along with the program. Did it give you any trait selections that will work?¡±
Alden went back to the class information page. There were now several traits available. For some reason, the System used colors for the names. Alden didn''t know if it was trying to make the traits seem fun and friendly or if it had some basis in Artonan culture.
Please choose a trait to help you perform your duties.
Azure Rabbit ¡ª You are lighter on your feet when your skills are in use.
Green Rabbit ¡ª You senses are significantly heightened for 21.3 hours after summoning.
Citrine Rabbit ¡ª Your body¡¯s ability to filter contaminants is increased.
Rose Rabbit ¡ª Your attention to detail is increased when your skills are in use.
Gold Rabbit ¡ª You are gifted with additional composure when your skills are in use.