Crafter's Passion

by Kris Schnee

  "I didn't see anything."

  Stan got up and lunged with his sword, scoring his first actual hit. The faceless royal soldier staggered. They danced forward and back in a flurry of swings and blocks, and then the enemy blatantly stepped out of bounds again to sneak attack.

  "If that's how you're going to play, then fine!" Stan jumped out of bounds himself until he could use his greater speed to get behind the guy and kick him. He felt the impact as the soldier went down face-first. Stan stood on the fighting strip and flicked the foe's sword off to one side. "Had enough, cheater?"

  The soldier slinked out of the room, and the instructor stamped the ground with his forehooves. "Ha, I was wondering if you'd stick to the rules. That's your first in-person lesson. Why don't you chalk it up yourself?" A chalkboard appeared on the wall, listing Stan's current stats from his past lessons at the palace:

  [Law: 1

  Finance: 0

  War: 1

  Diplomacy: 2

  Other: ?]

  Stan hadn't been training much in this little world, so his stats were probably below his designated rival Loren's. He didn't much care. He took a piece of chalk, then paused. "Was that a War lesson?"

  "You tell me!"

  He thought back to what he did this morning, in another plane of reality. The strip of carpet on the floor was just "the rules", a framework for a certain kind of combat. The real world didn't work that way... or at least, not consistently according to any one system, and there were dangerous people who learned how not to play. He could be one of them! He marked another point for himself in Law. "Now, what do I need to do for Finance?"

  "Why?" asked the teacher. "To raise your statistics? To beat Princess Loren?"

  "No. I want to know more."

  "Then let's make this one homework, since I imagine you're busy. Later, try to chart where the money flows in any one place. From who to who, where to where?"

  That sounded interesting, but the clock was ticking. "Thank you. For now, I should visit my other world." He looked into the nearest brass wall and pressed one hand against its cold surface, watching his reflection.

  The virtual world faded and gravity shifted, so that he was crouching on sand, looking into the water. His reflection here was normal, matching his real build but for his idealized skin and the simplistic clothes he wore with bits of junky armor. The blocky stuff weighed on his limbs when he stood. He thunked one fist against his armored chest and felt a bit like a robot himself. "I think I liked the bouncy character better," he said.

  "The what, now?" said Ms. Parker, standing beside him.

  Stan yelped and flailed, landing again on the hot sand. "What are you doing here?"

  She was an elf with sun-gold, unwrinkled skin and an alarming number of knives, but recognizably still the same old lady. "Adventuring, of course. Haven't gotten very far, though I'm not decked out in cardboard like you." Her own gear was just leather.

  A tutorial message showed Stan how to gesture to bring up his interface. He'd seen other characters do the same hand motion, but the game made everybody's character do that even if the player was really pushing buttons. It wasn't a giveaway about who was playing how.

  He took out his handmade hammer and brandished it, grinning. "What do you want to do? I feel like making something."

  "I'm just along for the ride," said Parker. "Are you trying to become a legendary carpenter or what?"

  Stan talked about his rafting goals. Then he addressed the air: "Hey, Ludo, I shook hands with you! Does that count for my quest?"

  The answer appeared: [Good lateral thinking, but: within the Isles only, bub.]

  Parker said, "Ah, the tyranny of raft construction. Why don't you just mark your progress with flags, and build more rafts as you go?"

  "There aren't enough trees along the way. I'd have to carry lumber."

  She grinned. "A multi-stage raft, then! Let's get you started."

  They walked across a familiar island to borrow an axe and go cut trees. "I really need to make an axe of my own next." The bright sun warmed his skin as they walked along the wooded shore and chatted.

  A familiar face stood out from the people coming and going on their way to adventures. It was the novice wizard Dominic, running to catch up to Stan. "I heard you're in a VR pod! And seriously, you're going to use your time for lumberjacking?"

  Another few people ran up to join them and in one case, glided down from somewhere in the sky. Stan was surrounded by an axe-wielding gang of Dominic, Parker, Alaya the archer, the part-dragon alchemist, and even the phoenix kid who landed dramatically, wielding an axe in each hand. "Hey there!" said the kid, and gave one to Parker. "We're not going to have you waste time with that when you could be getting to the fun part."

  Though he was surrounded by people he'd met before, Stan turned in a circle and saw them all again, not just as fellow gamers but as friends. It didn't matter that they were looking to do some of his work for him; it'd be fun and he'd still be a part of it. "Thank you all! Let's build stuff."

  They chopped down several trees in a hurry, interrupted only by a rampaging leopard. After the fencing duel, the fight was one-sided and quick! Once they'd all chopped up wood, Stan filled his backpack with an unreasonable amount of it and felt the weight behind him. Everyone cheered him on and helped out as Stan crouched with a pile of simple ingredients to cut and lash together logs to build his first crude raft. Working with his own hands, feeling the timber and improvised rope come together, was more rewarding than doing the same thing would have been with a regular game interface. How did it compare to the real-world wood shop? Physically it might be almost the same, but today, he felt like a rock star.

  [Crafting result: Palm Wood Raft. "Many hands make light work."]

  Ms. Parker was tapping one foot and trying to look cross when Stan turned to her with a smile on his face. She said, "Well? Are you just going to play with blocks this whole time, or will you do something properly fantastical? Cast a spell or something."

  Stan stood up and dusted his hands. "I ought to, huh? My spell selection is pretty limited, though."

  An upgrade window popped up:

  [Special Techniques: You've earned another talent! Make a selection.

  -Gadget Inspector (from Inspect): Inspecting tools gives you a chance to see upgrade opportunities!

  -Mighty Oak (from Woodworking): Wooden objects you craft are 50% sturdier!

  -Ace Custom (from Smithing): Items you make yourself are more effective in your hands!]

  It wasn't a spell upgrade, but then, he hadn't earned one of those. He had earned something though. "Those all look good, but I suggest a trade. Can I swap this thing for a new spell element?"

  [Normally no, but for you, special price. Available elements: Wood, Create, Ally, Connection, Tree, Shore.]

  The clock was ticking. Stan quickly picked Create, glad to have another verb. A swirl of light converged on his left foot, where there was presumably a new mark under his shoes. Stan gestured again and brought up the magic interface. This time, in person, he wasn't just looking at a user interface. He was doing magic. The glowing symbols slowly orbited him and the world was full of gates and spikes and whirlpools. Stan reached out for the new Create symbol, a sort of spark, and swirled it around his hand. It moved like a faint weight and left glowing trails. He had to dance to move it in three dimensions around him toward the Metal element and into a gate that could hold them both at once. When he got it right on the third try, a nugget of copper rippled into existence at his feet like a droplet congealing. It was about enough for a coin.

  "Well, that's a start!" he said, and toyed with the thing. "Thank you all."

  Ms. Parker smiled. "That's enough for me. I'm off to try something a bit different." She vanished without fanfare, into some other world.

  They hauled the raft into a storage space called Davy Jones'. It wasn't a solution for an actual boat, especially given the cost, but it'd do until he got home and got to try the raft out. A
laya said, "So long as you're here, have you got time for a quest?"

  "Island East-1 is burned out for me -- we probably won't see anything exciting -- and I won't have much time if we do East-2."

  "Ah well. I don't want you bailing on us in mid-adventure, so go do stuff on your own." The archer looked a little disappointed. "See you around! This was more fun than I expected when Ludo called for a favor." The others echoed her.

  "Thanks again, everyone!" Now, what could he do for fun when he didn't have the resources to craft anything else in a hurry in VR? He laughed. "Ludo, I may as well flip back to my royal duties."

  In a blur of light, Stan became a princess again, back in the palace. His instructor was turning around, looking surprised. "So soon? I thought you were uneasy about your role in the royal family."

  Stan paced the room, wondering if it was just his imagination that walking felt different. "Is there a lesson you can cover somewhere outdoors?" Something rumbled in the distance.

  The teacher said, "I have just the thing. How about --"

  Just then, a massive clawed hand smashed its way into the fencing room and grabbed Stan. He yelped in a high pitch and looked around wildly. He was in the clutches of a dragon, feeling squashed by its scaly hide! The beast was in the palace garden full of shrubs and there were guards swarming out to shoot arrows at it. Stan called out toward the training room, "Was this on your lesson plan?"

  A well-placed arrow hit the dragon's wrist and made the muscles twitch, loosening its grip. Stan wriggled partway free from its fist. It lashed out with its head to try to bite him. His whole view was full of teeth and burning eyes and that dark gullet. Stan scrambled to safety behind the nearest wall, which was just the monster's arm. Then the dragon's mighty wings slammed down on the air and lifted them both skyward! Stan yelped as the ground fell away and the palace and guards raced by, followed by fields. He instinctively tried climbing up along the arm for a relatively safe perch, and found himself crouching on the dragon's back. The wind was hot and threatened to blow him right off. His stomach churned. The dragon banked to one side and carried him along, forcing him to hold onto its scales. "Down!" he shouted, but the dragon wouldn't obey.

  He had his sword. Stan held on with his right hand and grabbed the hilt with his left. He jabbed down but the blade skittered off the dragon's scales. He cursed. There was a spot farther up toward its neck that looked like it had thinner protection; he just had to reach it. The "ground" swayed under Stan as he crouch-walked along, trying to ignore the wind and the land far below. At last he reached the weak point and stabbed desperately, twice. The colossal monster screamed and lost altitude, flapping desperately and rolling over. Stan hung on for dear life. There was a river nearby and they were headed right for it. Good! They kept falling together, and just before impact Stan jumped off and hit the water. It rippled all around him and chilled his skin.

  The game faded out and a fanfare played. [Result: +1 War skill. That's all for today! Thank you for playing.] The VR pod slowly rotated back to its upright and locked position. A moment later it clicked open. Stan wobbled as he stepped out, back in reality. The lady who'd set up the pod for him offered to steady him but he kept his balance.

  I could have been a dragon myself, thought Stan. Or an astronaut, a superhero, anything. Even so, he hopped down from the pod with a smile on his face.

  He stretched and headed back to the main room of the Fun Zone. Ludo was on one of the screens, but in the form of a blue-feathered griffin talking with one of the other volunteers. Stan waved and said, "Thanks again! I'll be online later."

  "You ready to go, young man?" asked Ms. Parker.

  "Yeah. Thank you too, ma'am." Stan gave her an awkward bow in the style he'd seen in princess-world. "Maybe we can play again together, sometime."

  8. Banned

  Back in the real world, it was sunset. He'd been dropped off shortly before curfew. He hustled from the edge of the farm toward his residence hall. He was still caught up in his daydreams, imagining the Community as a farm on Mars or underwater. Maybe he could find some used VR gear for himself so he could do fighting and crafting in even more detail. Or get a tablet with a bigger screen, or a third character account.

  On the way to the dorm, one of his fellow Community guys spotted him. "Stan! Where've you been? The Baron is pissed."

  Stan winced and felt his fantasies shatter. "I had a reservation to leave for the day."

  "Well, tell that to him. I don't know what set him off, exactly."

  Stan nodded and went to his room first. It had been searched. The mattress was at a strange angle, the sheets were piled up, his clothes had been shoved around, and the few other things he kept strewn around were messier than usual. The photo of his mother lay face-down on the desk. What was the point; to look for drugs or to find him hiding under the bed instead of attending the Community's events?

  He figured his Slab would notify him of any formal summons from Hal, but he'd left it in the dirt. He sighed and headed for Hal's office.

  Baron Hal was behind his desk, sitting with his hands under his chin. "Stan. Hello. Come in and shut the door."

  Stan sat on the chair facing him. He sank into the deep cushion, putting him lower than the boss. "I had an event scheduled already and I couldn't cancel that on short notice without letting people down."

  "You had an obligation to the Community, and that takes priority. You knowingly broke the rules and went AWOL."

  Stan blinked. "A wall?"

  "Away without leave. I like to think I run a well-oiled machine, with kids coming and going each year, but sometimes the system breaks down. This is one of those days."

  He wondered what the game's Inspect skill would show him here. He imagined ["Baron" Hal Ferrum, Bureaucrat class], and chuckled at the thought of how one would earn that label in-game.

  "What's so funny?" said Hal.

  "It's not important."

  "Your thoughts are important. I want to know what was going through your head when you decided to run off for this particular event."

  "I already said I'd scheduled it in advance. I didn't know I was being automatically signed up for the blood drive." Stan sat up straighter. "I didn't think the Community would start claiming my blood without my formal permission."

  "You gave permission to the necessary rules by coming to the Youth Community Program."

  "I never had a choice about doing national service years."

  Hal said, "You had plenty of choice. You could've spent your service years in the military or in another approved program to do something constructive." He jabbed one finger down on his desk. "In my Community you've been ordinary, nothing outstanding, and that's okay. But lately, your score has been slipping, and today I found out why."

  Hal took a Slab out of a desk drawer and slapped it down on the desk, scattering bits of the dirt that still littered it. "You've been playing Thousand Tales and listening to a gang of greedy Nazis who want us all to starve and die."

  Stan leaned back, thinking, Where did that come from? "I helped build a playground."

  "You consorted with a corporation that hurts people. I thought I'd banned it here, but our network settings were too lax. So. Your gaming device." He held out his hand.

  It was in Stan's pocket. "I got my Talisman from a friend, not the Community."

  "Hand it over."

  "I earned it."

  Hal's expression softened. "I think a lot of our issue here is just a misunderstanding. We're a team, Stan. You kids work hard and I protect you from the higher-ups' meddling, and from other problems, and make sure you all have the tools you need to live comfortably and do your jobs. That means our success is a team effort. The things you have are yours with the understanding that there are rules in place to manage them, for the good of everyone."

  "And by 'manage' you mean 'take'," said Stan.

  "It was never yours in the sense of you being able to selfishly hoard it and go 'mine, mine!' We have rules, kid, and one is t
hat you can't have a toy that causes issues for your Community."

  "What problems?" Stan said. "It's not just a toy, either. I'm learning more from it than from any of the stupid Slab programs. We should all have these."

  Hal looked horrified by that thought. "And have everyone getting whispered to by that thing? I don't think so. I've already confiscated the gadget you foisted on Eddie. Now hand over yours."

  Stan had spent one good day away from the Community and Hal was treating him like an axe murderer. There was no way out; Stan had to obey, didn't he? He said, "Or what?"

  Hal said, "You're risking a D rank on your SCS. A Deficient score." He spoke it like a curse of death. "You'll have to be confined to your room except during work periods, and need to go through the Disciplinary Remediation Program instead of playing fantasy games. We'll need to look at other intervention methods if that doesn't help. Look, son --"

  Stan hopped to his feet. "You are not my father!"

  Hal recoiled. "Whoa, there. I see you have some issues to work through. The first step is to get this game out of the way."

  Stan shook with the lingering moment of anger. How dare Hal the bureaucrat try to claim him like family? Stan tried to steady his muscles and his thoughts. "So that's how it is?"

  "That's how it is."

  Stan handed over his Talisman with an exaggerated courtly bow. "For the record, sir, do you still have a claim on my blood?"

  "Get out of here, kid."

  * * *

  Stan lay on the bed in his room, stunned. He had his Slab again, of course, and all the wholesome educational software he could ever be allowed to want. Physically he was safe in an adequate room, dinner was available soon, and he had clothes and entertainment. Other than lacking access to one video game out of countless thousands, what was there to complain about?

  He wondered if horses ever resented being kept on farms.

  He checked his Slab. He was at C- rank, just above Deadly Deficient Doom. (There was no F rank, for fear of hurting people's feelings.) There was a schedule laid out for him, and the usual options for rearranging it were disabled. He was going to be working in the fields for the next month and doing occasional kitchen duty, and was already signed up for several educational events. So long as he did what he was told, he could easily boost his rank up to B, partly due to the temporary bonus for improvement. Stan flicked listlessly through the rules about how to be a good citizen and get full credit for it. The numbers no longer interested him except for where he could see the cracks between them, the way that the system was poorly designed by somebody who'd never had to live under it. Why give so much social-activity credit for using the forum, for instance? Or for just sitting there for movie night?