by Kris Schnee
Stan said, "The prize was getting here. The rock's a nice bonus."
13. Quest Level 2
He was nice to everybody for the next few days and worked hard, even doing a favor moving some stuff for Hal. He avoided getting into another talk with Mina or Eddie about his future; he had other stuff to focus on for the moment.
Back in the game he managed to keep control of the meteor only by grace of how much respect Davis seemed to have on his island. Volunteers brought up some wood that he converted into a shack big enough to hold his treasure chests and create a safe sleeping place for himself and Davis. He could "sleep" on the floor without any harm but a mild stat penalty and slow wound healing, but the bunny looked like he'd actually suffered.
On Stan's second post-meteor play session, Davis greeted him at the island's forge and held a blanket triumphantly aloft. "I made this!"
Stan said, "Nice," though he wasn't sure it was meant to be a trapezoid. "I've got some steel ready; did you want a standard sword?"
"Spear. I use a sword in the show but I'd rather jump around and jab. Say. I did some asking around, and there are jobs open if you're willing to be a bottom-feeder on Castor, the seastead."
Stan had been looking at pictures of the sea-surface colony, off the coast of the Free State of Cuba. The Web sites he had easy access to called it an ecological and social nightmare, but when he turned his homemade antenna south to pick up the wider network he saw glittering casinos, weird biotech experiments, and people trying to make a living miles away from land. "Tell me it's not a job in prostitution or drug dealing."
"Not quite that bad. Sounds like living in a tin can, tending fish farms or welding or maintaining Boss Ludo's fancy machines. You'd be poor, and that's something folks like me can't really understand." Losing his home was a game to him.
Stan imagined spraying and wiping down VR equipment. "Is it true that it's a handful of rich tycoons and a bunch of dirt-poor lackeys there serving the tourists? I mean, why would anyone go there if they're not getting rich?"
"You can answer that better than me, human."
Right now he was fed, and safe, and had reliable work. A lot of people couldn't say that. He had friends and a kind of glide path to maybe have something more with one of them. But coasting was all it'd ever be. He said, "You ever play poker, Davis?"
"Badly. It's these darn signal flags." He ruffled his ears.
Stan said, "Sometimes you have to discard part of what you've got, to get something better."
* * *
He inspected the Anchor Stone, the blue crystal he'd recovered from the meteor. His skill gave him more detailed info than was on the game's wiki, but the gist was that he could attach this thing to a house or ship to make a big structure that was hard to destroy and harder to steal, much like how favorite items worked. He wanted a boat, of course, and by now he could make most of the parts himself. First, though, he forged new equipment for Davis and chatted with the local craftsmen, who were more experienced than the Central Islanders. Every bit of work improved his skill.
Over the course of a few days he made some money by doing crafting for others. There were other smiths on the island specializing in weapons and armor, so Davis probably could have gotten better stuff from them, but he seemed satisfied with Stan's work.
"Is there a dungeon area on Tourney Isle?" he asked one of the local merchants.
"There was, but it's been conquered by stabilizing the island. Now it's an NPC cave fort guarding the Stability Gem that's installed there."
The island felt more peaceful than Central Island, because there wasn't the influx of complete newbies. The locals were players who'd gotten basic skills already, who were using this place as a base to explore the other nearby islands. South-10 East-2 in particular was said to be pretty cool. The main attraction on Tourney itself was the regular fighting contests, with the social rule that you weren't allowed to loot an enemy's corpse after killing them. That was just good manners.
Stan decided to jump into one of those once his meteor injuries healed. Up on the big grassy field in front of the shelter that was Davis' new house in progress, a dozen people lingered to watch Stan face off against a dragon-winged swordsman. "I feel a little outmatched," he admitted.
The dragon-man came at him with a flap-assisted charge. Stan dodged to the left and swung his hammer, scoring a glancing blow. But the foe spun around and gashed him good. A swipe of the man's claws came next but Stan managed to fend that off. This kind of fighting would be easier in VR, where Stan could control exactly what he was doing. They locked weapons, hammer shaft against sword, but that just wasn't even. Stan got hurled backward onto the ground with a slash along his arm, and the enemy was on him a moment later with his sword ready to stab. "Surrender?"
"Sure." A dirge played from Stan's machine to proclaim his defeat. Somebody paid off a bet in the background.
"Guess I'm not a fighter," Stan said, getting up.
The dragon-man said, "I thought I'd break that little hammer. Must be a favored item."
"Yeah, I mostly do crafting. I should get back to the workshop and stay out of combat, huh?"
"Out of the front lines, maybe, but with your magic marks there you could do some useful support."
"Thanks." Stan wasn't sure how to feel about developing his magic further, versus working on skills that would help him in the real world. Lately, out there, he'd been behaving himself but skipping most of the social events again. He wasn't part of Hal's society, or at least he wasn't going to be.
* * *
Hal reluctantly gave him permission to visit Mexico again, not asking why. Stan headed for the Fun Zone and got into a conversation with some locals who were just getting into the game. It was a chance to practice his Spanish.
A human waitress brought him pizza. "So what did you do for her?"
"Who?"
"Ludo. I heard you've got a free session." She played with her new uniform, which made her look more like a fantasy bard than the old lab-technician style.
Stan sweated a little, recalling that he wasn't here to relax. "It's kind of a job interview."
"Well, that ought to be interesting. She wanted to have a talk with me personally, but I mostly went through a plain old HR department. And it's not run by robots."
A wallscreen beeped for attention. A griffin's face appeared and said, "Mr. Cooper, we're ready for you. Please go to pod room five."
"Five?" said the waitress. "Oh, I see."
Stan gave her a questioning look, but excused himself and walked into the room. In the little room stood the VR equipment, but there was an ordinary ceiling light that dispelled the usual magic feel of the place. The machine stood idle and dark.
On the wall, the griffin reappeared with spectacles and a clipboard. "Question one: Fix this." Its beak curled into a grin.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm told not to say. There's a toolbox by your feet, and a basic schematic."
Stan pulled out three paper pages from the metal toolkit, and looked through an introduction to the Hayflick Robotics Labyrinth VR Rig. "This is an older model," said the interviewer. "It's prone to this problem."
Stan was glad for the air conditioning. He'd figured he'd be scouted for a menial job, quizzed about whether he could show up on time and avoid fistfights with other employees. Being told to perform, to think, wasn't the kind of job skill the Community taught much.
He crouched at the pod's base and turned it off and on, but nothing happened. He checked the power and data cables, found that the power was unplugged, and fixed that. Now the machine came on, but the little screen at its base only got a few seconds into a series of startup messages before it went dark and restarted.
"It may help to think out loud," said the griffin. "Helps us understand your process, too."
"Us?" Of course, there could be other minds watching him, regardless of what was on the monitor. "Okay. Electricity is getting to it. The startup software resets. I don't know progra
mming, so I'm guessing you didn't call me in to diagnose that." He opened up the pod and looked for anything broken inside. "Nope."
He tried looking into the VR goggle screens while he started the thing up. "This is the error that causes a cross-universe breach and magically pulls people into the game world, right?"
The griffin giggled. "That hardly ever happens."
Joke aside, it did happen in a way. You just had to have a ton of money. Stan sighed and kept looking. He turned the machine off and on again to see exactly what happened. "About three seconds, then there's a click, then four second pause, restart. And there's a red light that blinks twice. Oh! Is that an error signal?"
"It is, yes. But we didn't include the list of codes in that printout. What do you think?"
He looked around at every detail. "Besides the computer hum, that click is the only noise, like something snapped in there. But it keeps happening." He reset everything again. "Hey, there's a fan on this section; is it supposed to slow down right after startup?"
The griffin said nothing. Stan grunted and checked the specs. "It's part of the power supply. My guess is that when the pod turns on, the fan breaks. But that click... Could that be a, a circuit breaker? Power flows, parts turn on, too much power flows, fan slows down, circuit breaker trips anyway, whole thing shuts off. Then something undoes the breaker and it starts over."
A fanfare played. "Right!" said the griffin. "The power supply isn't completely dead, but this model sometimes wears out and can't handle all the systems it needs to feed. Now, for question two, can you install a replacement? Check the specs and we'll put up some safety info onscreen."
They walked him through some of that part so he wouldn't hurt himself and sue them, but he did all of the physical work once somebody brought him the piece to install. The new box went in, he flipped the switch, and the whole pod whirred to life and stayed on. "All right! You said that was question two?"
"Question three: Would you like a job?"
He leaned against the pod and laughed. "Are there really so few people who can do that?"
"Let's put it this way: there are few who have the skill and have already demonstrated patience, ambition, work ethic, and humility. It also helps that you've used this equipment and are obviously interested in it. You can come work for our company directly, or we can make introductions to other employers."
"A repairman job," Stan said, thinking.
"And maybe more, if you earn it."
The alternative was boring. He said, "How exactly would we arrange this?"
[Your Level 2 quest is complete!] said a notice on the wall.
* * *
He'd gotten enough cash to afford an hour of VR time, but due to the interview, they wouldn't take his money today. He climbed into the pod himself, hoping for that magical dimension portal.
Instead, he got the island world. Warm wind blew across his face as he stood up in the shelter of Davis' expanding hut. Davis was off helping his acting crew prepare for another cartoon episode, so Stan figured he'd do some more work. He hefted his backpack (which had returned to its usual look), then got a ping from Alaya the archer.
[Hey, are you still on Tourney?] she sent. [I'm there.]
They met up in the marketplace. "I'm in VR mode today."
She said, "Nice. Want to fight?"
He checked out her feathered bow and bone armor. "I could try to dodge arrows. Let's see, is the Dodge skill back on my top five?" He checked.
[Stan Cooper
PRIVATE INFO
Account type: Standard
Mind: Tier-III
Body: Element-Touched (Earth)
Main Skills: Smithing, Woodworking, Inspect, Merchant, Hammer
Talents: Pack Man, Gadget Inspector
Shamanic Magic 1: Growth, Metal, Create, Wind
Save Point: Tourney Isle
PUBLIC INFO
Note: Wielder of hammer and drones.
Class: Craftsman]
"No," he said. He looked up more details and added, "Top ten though."
They faced off atop the island under the blazing sun. Nobody was watching today, which suited Stan fine.
Alaya said, "You went after one of the elemental race quests, huh? I'll do air if I ever get into that."
Stan felt something brush against the back of his legs, and startled. He grabbed it and discovered his fuzzy ringed tail, which gave him the sense of being touched low along his spine. His ears felt like they'd flicked back and forth, too. "Weird. I guess the uploaders feel this way all the time, from getting their brains rewired."
"Yeah, I don't get the appeal of that," Alaya said. "Skill bonuses and bragging rights, yeah, but what's the point of immortality if you're going to rewire your identity?"
"People change anyway," Stan said with a shrug. He did a little tutorial that let him summon his hammer with a gesture. "I'm ready. Are you?"
"Holster that thing and I'll start with my bow on my back, to give you a chance."
"A chance!" said Stan, grinning. He had an idea. "Okay. Go!"
Instead of the hammer, he drew his magic wand and entered spell-casting mode. Alaya had jumped back to anticipate a hammer charge. Stan hurried to find the right spell icons for a Create Wind spell. Before he could finish, though, Alaya's first arrow came at him. He dodged, then waved frantically to grab the hovering Wind icon again.
"Spells in mid-fight?" Alaya said, drawing another arrow.
The process was dangerously slow, but he managed to connect the right magic sparks just as the second arrow speared him. He felt the hit as a heavy thump against his right arm, without pain. A major wound icon flashed. Still, he'd gotten a good spell result, and there was a sudden updraft that set Alaya's hair and clothes blowing around her. Now he drew his hammer.
"That's not going to save you," Alaya said, and reached for her quiver again.
Stan feinted a charge, then zigzagged toward her with his hammer ready. The breeze made Alaya's first arrow go high and the second only nick him for a minor wound. Stan was close now, ready to swing. Ready to smash her in the face. He hesitated. Alaya gave him an awkward bash with her bow, driving him back, and she tried to fire point-blank. Stan shoved her arm aside to spoil her aim, and raised his hammer. It shook in his hand. She looked up at it in fear.
"I... I can't do it!" he said.
Alaya looked at their position, locked in battle and an instant from her getting clobbered. "Can't hit a girl?" she teased. "You did it once before, with that Mexican dude."
"It's too personal in VR. I could smash a skeleton. Even a girl skeleton."
Alaya forced him back, readied her bow, then laughed. "You had me twice but held back. I concede." This time Stan got a victory fanfare. "I haven't done player-on-player fighting in VR myself. You just couldn't do it?"
Stan shook his head, troubled. "Maybe I'm a coward."
"Or just not a psycho. Want to go smash some skeletons instead? There's a group looking to visit South-11."
"Yeah! Sure."
It turned out to be evil fishmen instead, but Stan was able to fight and kill them without hesitation too.
Afterward, on Island South-11, Stan and Alaya were hanging out on the beach with their fellow fighters. Stan helped fix up their shoddy one-use raft while Alaya practiced her archery. Stan said, "There's good wood here. We've got that rope from that net trap; let's lash some extra logs on."
Alaya said, "You hop into VR and you always want to chop wood!"
"There's always a need for it. I'll do it while that other guy scrounges for alchemy plants."
They sailed back to Tourney using a magic breeze that Stan conjured. Along the way, he got a notice:
[You earned another magic element! Your first-level slots are full, though. Pick an element to upgrade or discard.]
"How about upgrading Wind?" he said.
[Upgrade to what? Pick from Headwind, Tailwind, Speed, Updraft, or Cloud; or suggest something else.]
As his powers increased he'd be
come more specialized, though he could take Wind again at first level and have the specific power overlapping a weak generic one. "Since I'm going to be sailing, do Tailwind."
A crawling sensation spread along his leg as the Wind shaman mark on his foot slid upward to his shin, changing shape to suggest a forward breeze. The brown mark turned blue, too, with a notice that he could now change the color if he wanted.
Alaya was fiddling with an invisible menu when Stan looked, too. "I just got a skill upgrade. Going to do a once-a-day homing arrow power."
"Nice." He stretched. "My hour is probably up; I'd better go."
"It's been two hours."
"Oh!" Stan called up system info and saw it was true. "I'm not getting charged yet, am I?"
The game said, [You can play for up to three hours before there's a legally required rest.]
He needed a bathroom break anyway. "Can you autopilot me back to the island and let me out?" He looked to Alaya and said, "See you later! Logging out."
The VR rig let him go. Stan stepped out carefully, taking the hand of the waitress for support. "Thanks. It definitely works now."
"So you have a job?"
She looked excited for him, but something in her tone made that a loaded question. "I'm not going to stay here, though."
"Oh. Well, congratulations."
He walked outside for some fresh air, and recoiled at the blazing sunlight. He shielded his eyes. He forced himself to stay outside for a few minutes, though.
The resident griffin robot trotted out to join him. "How's it going?" Its voice wasn't his interviewer's but it was familiar.
Stan stretched, then sat on the steps beyond the painted walls. The concrete warmed him through his clothes. All around them was a city that seemed perpetually crumbling, with a scent of distant rot. He asked, "Who are you today?"
The robot settled down nearby, looking up to track a passing airplane. "Volt the dragon. We really ought to get some dragon bots, but it's not a high priority. Not with..." She looked down at the real world around them. "This."
"I'm glad you guys are focusing your energy on actually helping people. How's the mood in there, backstage?"