“Mr. Khan, are you awake?” the voice asked. When I answered, a quick series of clicks came from the door and it swung open. An Inquisition soldier entered wearing one of their plain uniforms and holding a bundle of clothing. He laid it on the foot of the bed where I was sitting.
“These were sent for you. When you are dressed, I’ll escort you down,” the man said.
I thanked him and he stepped into the hall. The outfit looked like a theatre costume—or a celebrity’s red-carpet attire. There was a loose white undershirt with billowing arms, a stiff emerald-green vest with a simple geometric pattern, and a thick navy-blue coat with silver buttons—no zipper. Plain grey pants and black leather shoes completed the set. Not my style, but at least I wouldn’t be barefoot anymore.
I started to change clothes and caught sight of my body. Pale, thin... wrong. Muscle, too wiry. Not enough hair, and the wrong color. The world around me swam and fuzzed, and I collapsed onto the bed, resting my forehead against the iron frame. Nope. I was not dealing with that today. I steadied my breathing and rolled to stare at the clothes.
Yesterday, things had kept happening to me, and I had been swept along like a trailer park in a tornado. Passivity kills. I needed a way home, and no one here was going to hand one to me. Magic had bashed me over the head and dragged me screaming into this world, so I would find a mage to slap it around until it sent me back. Surviving long enough to find one that cared to help and wouldn’t blast me into a puddle of goo was the tricky part.
Biological necessities came first: food, water, shelter, warmth. In a city, that meant money. Did Daivon have resources I could use? I hesitated. Well, that led to priority two: do not piss-off the locals. I’d almost been shot over a social faux-pas. Putting etiquette lessons on a survival checklist wasn’t even the weirdest thing I’d done recently.
I could start playing with magical fire—maybe literally—after the basics were covered. With the semblance of a plan in place, I had recovered enough to continue getting dressed. I didn’t need to look. It was easy to put clothes on. Everything was perfectly fine. There was absolutely nothing to worry or think about.
I finished lacing my shoes and swung the door open. The soldier was kicking his heels against the wall and gave me a blank stare when I emerged. I gave him an embarrassed apology and he grumpily led me to the ground floor.
The main room was a large open space with a grid of metal enclosures interrupted by a wide aisle. Recognition dawned and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Cubicles. They were dozens of metal cubicles. It was shockingly mundane and unsurprisingly absurd.
My escort led me down the aisle to a reception area. The High Inquisitor and Ester were waiting for me by a pair of thick double doors. The Inquisitor looked exactly the same as yesterday, but Ester had changed into a white skirt and green top with a charcoal-colored coat. She waved when she saw me.
“Mr. Khan, we are satisfied that you are not currently a threat to the public,” the man said in lieu of greeting. He deftly removed a coin from his pocket and offered it to me. At first, I thought it was gold, but no—too bright. It was brass and featured an intricate design of intersecting circles and glyphs.
“If you remember anything about your abduction or time with the cell, this will reach me directly,” he said with a rehearsed cadence. I eyed the coin, looking for any signs of treachery. It looked like ordinary metal, but I knew there was more hidden from my sight. Was it a magical hotline—or a way to call an airstrike on myself?
“Enjoy your day, Mr. Khan, and good luck,” the Inquisitor said. His tone was perfectly neutral; it was unnerving. I pocketed the coin as he left through the doors I had come from. I turned to Ester and she gave me a warm smile.
“How was it, spending the night in Ravenspoint?” she asked.
“No one tried to stab me on the way to the cafeteria.”
“They let you into the cafeteria?”
“No”
She looked befuddled for a long moment, then shrugged it off.
“Your mother is outside,” she said. I balked. She tisked.
“You’ve been gone for days, Dai. She almost rushed the Lancers to get to you,” she chided. She turned to leave and I almost reached to stop her, but caught myself. The motion drew her attention and I hurried to move past it.
“Ester, what... do I call her? What’s her name?” I asked, not needing to fake a pained expression. The hint of joviality vanished from her and her shoulders pulled in.
“You always called her mother, before,” she said with a wince, adding, “her name is Basil.”
“Okay, let’s go see her,” I said, moving towards the double doors. Ester didn’t move and looked confused.
“Oh... kay?” she asked, bewildered. I guess they didn’t have that one. I frowned. Why could I talk to her at all? The British Empire was powerful in its day, but they didn’t colonize other universes... right?
“It’s just an acknowledgement. I heard it, somewhere,” I covered. She brushed it off reluctantly and we pushed the doors open. A blast of frigid air made me squint into the darkness beyond. It must have been earlier than I thought.
Past a pair of armed Inquisition soldiers, a woman in her early forties stood on her tip toes and craned her neck towards the doors. Dark bags hung under her eyes and her knuckles were white as she crushed her hands together. When she saw me, she deflated and her hands shot up to the bridge of her nose and eyes. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.
As soon as I got within arms reach, she lunged at me and wrapped me in a tight hug. So much for ‘no touching’. I awkwardly patted her on the back. I didn’t have the heart to stop her, so I waited for it to be over and stole a look around. Ester was hiding a grin and giggle behind her hand, and the two soldiers on duty were looking pointedly away. It was something private—got it. She pulled away and the waterworks were in full operation.
“Dai, my boy! What did those animals do to you?” she cried. After a noncommittal shrug from me, she bit her lip and fussed over me with her eyes.
“Ester told me about your system. Is it true, it’s gone?” she asked, anxious. When I nodded, she squeaked and a hand shot to her lips.
“Most of my memory, too,” I said. It didn’t help with the tears situation. She tried to force the air out of me again.
“You’re safe now, lightheart,” she said affectionately, “we’ll bring you to see Edacien; he’s one of the best.”
What would happen if someone tried to restore memories I wasn’t actually missing? What were the odds that this ‘Edacien’ was a talented therapist and not a wizard that was going to scramble my brains with a magical blender?
“What do I do about my... system?” I asked, trying to redirect the conversation. Both Ester and the High Inquisitor had emphasized its destruction, and now Basil. It was more likely that I simply never had one, and the cultists’ spell hadn’t given me Daivon’s.
“Of course, dear! Edacien will build you a new one. He’s a Memeticist, after all,” Basil said. My date with the blender would not be denied, it seemed. She stepped away and gestured for me to walk with her, but I turned to Ester instead.
“You saved me, back there. In a sea of sharks, you were my lifeline. Thank you,” I said earnestly, “I won’t forget it.”
She looked surprised for an instant and then laughed, beaming.
“You remember the classics, but not my name! I’ll try not to hold it against you, Mister,” she said coyly. I had no idea what ‘classics’ she was referring to, but at least it made her happy. Mission accomplished, I went to join Basil, and Ester followed behind. I shot her a questioning look.
“Oh, I’m going with you. Mrs. Basil asked me to walk you through the Tower. Edacien knows me,” she explained. I looked to Basil.
“Aren’t you coming with me to see him?” I asked. She squirmed and shifted from foot to foot.
“Well, dear, your father has business in the mine today, and one of us needs to be in the manor,” she said. She hesitated and rubbed her arms, glancing around for any distraction. I showed mercy.
“I... understand. There wouldn’t be much for you to do while I saw the... Memeticist, right?” I said. She quickly agreed and looked slightly relieved. My own mother was a workaholic; this was nothing new to me. The world didn’t stop spinning just because of a little cultist kidnapping.
“If Edacien can’t restore my memories... where do I go? I don’t know the city,” I confessed. Ester spoke up.
“I’ll still be in the Tower when you’re done. Find me and I’ll walk you to Khan Manor,” she said. Well, well—they had a manor. Fancy. Step one of the plan was looking up.
I had forgotten to add it to the list, but gathering allies was a good step too. Ester had helped me every chance she got—except once. I still didn’t understand her connection to the Inquisition. And Basil was Daivon’s mom.
That thought wiped away any hint of joy I felt. She was feeling guilty about not babysitting me, and I was returning her hugs while wearing her dead son’s body. Hell might be getting a new basement soon.
I pushed it out of my mind. This world wasn’t friendly to outsiders, and I needed all the help I could get. Someday, I’d tell them what happened to the real Daivon, but I had to make it that far first. I quietly added another entry to my list: hunt down the cult that killed Daivon and dragged me here.
The three of us departed Ravenspoint and entered the warren of buildings and shacks. Basil led the way with Ester trailing a few steps behind us. The older woman kept up a stream of chatter about unfamiliar names and places. She told me Daivon had gone missing five days ago and the family had organized several search parties. He had been last seen entering his suite in Khan Manor and had vanished by morning.
We cut down an alley that was home to frozen puddles of water and grime. Tiny drips of luminescent fluid splattered the ground from a brass pipe overhead. Mice fled from us in terror as we carefully picked our way through to the other side. The buildings around us opened up marginally and the street level view of Haylomsha was amazing.
The city was covered in a layer of frost which made their magical lights shimmer and throw diffuse light over everything. There were hints of rust on most of the sheet metal shacks, but even those seemingly improvised structures showed signs of care and regular maintenance. Metallic statues of all sizes and colors perched delicately on top of railings, ledges, and rooftops. Even the doors had detailed ornaments and decorations with elegant curves and sleek lines.
We travelled down a main thoroughfare and the city lived and breathed around us. Little shops had their doors open and A-frame signs set out advertising their wares. Groups of pedestrians laughed and chattered to themselves as they strolled, but they were careful to keep some distance from each other. There were no carriages on the road and people happily walked down the middle with no sign of concern.
After a half-hour of walking, Basil stopped as we reached an intersection. She rubbed her arms and fidgeted while looking me over again. I looked around for street signs, but I hadn’t seen any so far and didn’t find them here either. How did these people navigate or give directions?
“Everyone will want to see you tonight, lightheart. After the third day with no sign of you...” Basil said, trailing off.
“We were all worried, Mrs. Basil,” Ester finished gently. Basil rallied and gave me a genuine smile.
“Yes, well. Hurry home when you are done in the Tower, dear. I won’t be able to relax until my boy is back where he belongs,” she said, drowning me in mothering and creeping guilt. She left down a side street with hurried footsteps and anxious glances back at me until she was out of sight. I turned to Ester and she led the way onward.
We walked on in companionable quiet for a time. I idly watched her brown curls sway and rustle as she walked while I thought about how to broach a sensitive subject with her. She caught me staring, so I rushed into it like a madman with a chainsaw.
“Ester, how do you know me—and my family?” I asked. Her teasing look sublimated away into guarded neutrality. Her silence stretched for half a city block. Finally, she answered with a forcibly flat tone.
“Our families have been aligned since before the Repose. We attended the same events, growing up, and we had the same tutors,” she said before quickly adding, “we are friends.”
She didn’t look at me when she answered. There was more she wasn’t telling me.
“But..?” I asked leadingly. She huffed and continued reluctantly.
“But I went to study in the Tower and you went to die like a fool,” she said angrily. My annoyance must have shown because she rolled her eye and added, “an adventurer. You went off to be an adventurer, and we barely saw each other away from our parents.”
She was gearing up for an old argument. I didn’t feel the need to defend Daivon’s choices, so I shrugged helplessly. At my silence, she eyed me before defusing with a shake of her head.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The conversation died and we focused on getting to the Tower. Our journey was now steeped in awkwardness and I wanted to ask her about anything else to cut the tension. I was saved from indecision when I saw an open space ahead and a larger crowd of people. We joined the flows of pedestrians heading into the area and I looked around.
It was a bustling market with colorful stalls made from metal and cloth. Proprietors hawked their goods and argued with customers. I saw a jewelry stall next to one selling knives and swords, and a third displayed glowing vials of every hue imaginable.
The divine smell of fresh bread wafted over me and I was immediately aware that I hadn’t eaten—ever, in this body. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled loudly. I drifted towards the source of the smells—an older man with flour on his pants and shirt standing in a bright red stand. He had tall racks of bread behind him. Ester noticed where I was going and palmed her forehead.
“I completely forgot! You should have said something,” she said.
We reached the stall in record time and I picked out a pair of large rolls. Ester produced a small steel gadget that looked like an extra-large battery. She plugged it into a port in the stall that I hadn’t noticed and waited until the merchant gave her a nod. Ester made the device disappear into her coat and we took our rolls over to a long iron table.
It was the best bread I’d ever had in my life. The crust was crisp and crunchy. The inside was light and fluffy, with an open but even crumb. With the first bite, my mouth was flooded with its bold, clean flavor that was almost savory with a tasteful hint of sour. I closed my eyes and hummed as I deliberately devoured the delectable delicacy.
Ester was giggling quietly beside me, and I did not care—at all. My mood was lifting noticeably with every bite. When the last of it was gone, I licked each individual finger before finally opening my eyes. Ester’s roll was gone and she had buried her face in her hands at some point, trying to contain her laughter.
I waved her off and shrugged. While she recovered, I stretched and took a look around. The market continued to buzz around us pleasantly, but a nagging thought ate at me. The High Inquisitor had said I would be released in the morning, but it was more than an hour after they let me go and it was still dark. The market was well-lit from large overhead lights, but the sun had yet to make an appearance.
I asked Ester when the sun would rise, and she looked at me oddly.
“The sun is up, Dai,” she said. I looked up. Although the light pollution made it difficult to see, the sky was dark and I could make out a few stars. Ester looked serious, so I prompted her.
“But it’s still dark?” I said, half asking. She stared at me as if she had just walked in on me holding a puppy in one hand and a cleaver in the other.
“Yes, Dai, it’s still dark with the sun up,” she said, an edge creeping into her voice.
“And that’s... normal?” I asked cautiously. Ester’s gaze drilled into me and she ground her teeth. She stood abruptly.
“We need to get to the Tower, right now,” she declared hotly, fists clenched.
I stood and trailed behind her mutely as she stormed towards a road to our right. Why did asking about the sun set her off? And why was it dark? I didn’t want to risk violating step two of “the plan” anymore, so I didn’t press the issue. The sun wasn’t going anywhere. Probably.
We cleared the buildings flanking the market’s exit and the Tower came into view. Up close, it seemed even larger than before, dwarfing the nearby structures and flooding the area with ethereal light. Its stonework clearly outlined each level in colorful patterns of bricks, marking the floors inside. Windows and balconies spiraled up the outside and made the whole building look like a colossal drill bit.
A smooth stone path—almost like poured concrete—cut through an open field and ran straight to the base of the Tower. The grass was a sickly pale, mint-green color, but groups of people lounged on it without any obvious harm. One couple was even lying down and occasionally pointing to different parts of the sky.
The scene was surreal. The sounds of the market buzzed behind me and could easily be mistaken for any ordinary farmer’s market from home. Meanwhile, people here were casually sitting around a monument to their magical prowess while reading metal or clay tablets. I half expected to be hit by a fireball or lightning bolt at any moment.
Ester made a beeline down the path towards the pair of tall wooden doors on the raised foundation around the Tower. We climbed the wide set of stairs up and Ester paused. She eyed me critically before turning and pointing towards the horizon. I followed the line she indicated and there, above the skyline of the rest of the city, a far distant orange light shone brighter and larger than any other star.
At first, I thought it was the moon—it was about the right size. But the longer I looked, the more impossible it seemed. It was too bright, and the color faded too evenly across it. There were no splotches of darkness from craters or mountains.
It wasn’t a moon. It was a star. Our star—the one this planet orbited. I was looking directly at it and it didn’t even strain my eyes. Instead of the celestial gravity-powered nuclear explosion in the sky that it should have been, it was an oversized flashlight with old batteries.
Pieces of a puzzle slammed into place. Everyone was pale and thin, even the grass. It was freezing and dark all the time. The only plants I’d seen was this alien grass, and the only animals were mice and people.
Something was wrong with the sun.
How long had it been like this? How was anything still alive? How long did we have until the last heat of the world bled off into space? Where did the bread we ate come from?
My mind raced, looking for explanations and solutions. I caught myself spiraling again, so I turned to Ester wide-eyed.
“What happened to it?!” I asked, thoughtlessly. She stared at me evenly.
“Nothing. This is a natural part of a star’s lifecycle. Just as we must sleep each day, the sun will wake again once it has finished resting,” she said, as if citing a textbook.
“That’s... stars aren’t alive; they don’t sleep,” I said, exasperated. She raised an eyebrow.
“You know better than the consensus of the High Mages of Astronomy, do you?” she asked with an eyeroll. I was admittedly not a expert astronomer back home, but I was sure I was right about this one. Arguing wasn’t going to solve anything, so I kept my mouth shut. Ester took this as a sign of victory and let out a long sigh.
“Let’s go see Edacien. If anyone can recover your memories, it’s him,” she said.
We approached the doors and they swung open towards us of their own accord. My eyes snapped to the center of the large circular room beyond. There was a humanoid robot suspended from the ceiling by long cables and tubes. The sleek plates that formed its head and body were a shiny silver metal and its eyes glowed bright blue. The joints exposed brass pipes with copper fittings and transparent tubes filled with a familiar blue-green fluid.
Except for the missing legs, it looked like a more advanced version of the Stalker spiders outside. It swayed gently on its tethers and its head swiveled to look at us as we entered. My hand itched for a weapon I didn’t have. When it didn’t try to eat us, I leaned towards Ester.
“What is that?” I hissed. She cracked a small smirk.
“What, Hapheti? She’s the receptionist, and a sweetheart. Be nice, brute,” she teased. She walked directly up to the creepy robot and beckoned for me to join her. I dragged my feet and kept a wary eye on it, ready to bolt if it turned on us—Ester was on her own.
“She’s almost as old as the Tower itself,” Ester said with a hint of pride.
“Haylomar built her and she’s been greeting visitors and Aspirants here since before...” her voice trailed off as she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and then shook her head. She straightened and stared at the robot, her eyes glazing over. I was starting to consider rescuing her from the evil machine psychic attack when she blinked and turned to me.
“I told Edacien we’re here. He’s ready for you,” she said.
Ester led me over to one of the large inscribed circles at the outer edge of the room. She stepped into it. I hesitated on the outside, inspecting the circle with extreme distrust.
“It’s a lift, get on,” she said impatiently. I didn’t move.
“Is it going to tear apart our cells and put us back together at the top?” I asked gravely. Ester stood there, blinking rapidly for several seconds. Then she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
“No... You get on, and it lifts us up. Where did you learn about cells?” she asked with obvious suspicion.
In high school biology, on another world, where it was common knowledge. Judging from her reaction, that was clearly not the case here.
“I’m not sure,” I said, “maybe when I was younger?”
She didn’t look convinced. I stepped over the circle and nonchalantly cracked my knuckles while stretching.
“Well, let’s not keep Edacien waiting. Gotta fix this memory loss, huh?” I said, not so subtly. Ester didn’t say anything. After a few moments, the circle around us lit up and the stone inside it gently lifted off the ground. The gap between the platform and the floor was so tiny I hadn’t seen it before we started moving. The ceiling irised open as we approached and the platform picked up speed.
We entered a vertical tunnel that perfectly fit our lift. There was no barrier between us and the stone walls. Somewhere in the cosmos, an OSHA manual spontaneously combusted. I stood as close to the center of the platform as possible.
Our ascent slowed and smoothly came to a stop. The stone in front of me seemed to dissolve, revealing a curved hallway. Ester stepped off and led me past a series of oiled wooden doors until stopping in front of one. She stared at it for a few seconds before nodding and pushing it open.
The room inside looked like someone had smashed together a mad scientist’s laboratory and an ophthalmologist’s office. One wall was covered with counters and cabinets, all home to a mess of brass and copper machines with hints of glowing fluids and crystals. Glass beakers and flasks held yet more colorful liquids—some of which might even have been mundane.
In one of the corners, there was a segmented heavy chair bolted to the ground. Tubing and wires ran to devices attached to the headrest by spindly metal arms. The walls around it were covered in black panels surrounded by bronze casings.
A man in his sixties stood from a stool as we entered and greeted us. His hair was mostly grey and he had a long pointed beard. He wore a purple vest over a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up. He clapped once.
“Ah, little Daivon! The last time I saw you, you were barely yay-high,” he said, holding his hand flat at hip level and chuckling. I scratched the back of my head unconsciously.
“Did they tell you about my... situation?” I asked. He waved dismissively.
“Yes, yes, we’ll take a look at you in a bit. Firstly, what is this I hear about a young lady missing the Memetics seminar? Hmm?” he said, turning to Ester with a stern expression.
“I—I didn’t miss the seminar, Eddy! The Inquisition requested a Healer and—” she started. Edacien cut her off.
“Bah, those scoundrels! And that’s Master Dervish to delinquents that ditch their studies, Missy,” he scolded. Ester looked flustered and exasperated, so I came to the rescue.
“That’s my fault, Master Dervish. She had to come pull me out of the mess I fell in,” I said. He harrumphed.
“Corrupting the youth—I told your father you’d be trouble. Fine, fine, you may leave, Adept Batai,” he said. Ester scurried out of the room and closed the door behind her. Edacien plopped back down onto his stool and gestured to another one nearby. I joined him and he peered at me intently.
“Well? Out with it; what’s wrong with ya?” he asked curtly. I snorted. It looked like bedside manner was not a part of healthcare here—or maybe that was just Edacien. I repeated what Ester had told me—my “system” had been destroyed—and added my “memory loss”. He nodded along with my explanation.
“I see, I see. Quite serious memetic trauma, then. Nasty, that. Hop into my chair and I’ll take a closer look,” he said, gesturing toward the large one in the corner. I walked over and, with great trepidation, sat on the edge of it. Edacien made a hurry it up gesture and I forced down my misgivings, leaning back gingerly.
He went to a short kiosk against the wall and adjusted some knobs and switches. The devices attached to the headrest lit up and fluid rushed down the tubes. Four arms dropped down around my head, each with a cone that was suspiciously similar to the hand device that Ester had used on me. The tips glowed soft white.
“Hold still. This will take a few minutes and we’ll have to start over if you move,” Edacien said. I focused on taking shallow breaths and not moving.
The arms moved around me at a snail’s pace. The operation was eerily quiet—no machine hum, only the faint swish of liquid rushing down the tubes. The devices made a complete pass over my skull in slow, mechanically precise lines. At last, there was a click and the arms popped back up to their original positions. I took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly.
Edacien made more adjustments on his controls and a black panel to my left lit up. Like Ester’s smaller version earlier, the panel displayed a cloud of dots and fine lines on the bottom half and nothing on the top. There was no pink this time, and the lower part was much busier. The Memeticist took one look at it and clicked his tongue.
“Yep, that’s a dead system alright,” he said flippantly. Then he leaned into the scan and his eyes narrowed. He frowned and walked over to a metal cabinet across the room, coming back with a small clear crystal. He reached up and slotted it into the housing of an adjacent panel. A similar image faded into existence on the panel’s surface.
Similar, but not the same. The top half was also blank, but the second half was sparse by comparison, and no two dots or lines seemed to line up with my scan. Edacien looked back and forth between them before turning to me with deep worry lines etched across his face.
“Boy, what happened to you? That’s certainly a human weave—so you aren’t an aether demon. But it looks nothing like your younger self’s,” he asked. Thinking quickly, I gave the first answer I came up with.
“I don’t know if I can say. The Inquisition...” I trailed off leadingly. His eyes bugged out and he threw his hands in the air.
“Those... those... monsters! They scrambled your insides beyond any recognition! No edict gives those thugs the right, I don’t care what they were after—no one deserves this,” he ranted, pacing angrily, “you might as well be a different person.”
He froze midstep and slowly turned to face me. He turned a hard look on me.
“Are you a ghoul? Is that what they’re hiding over there?” he demanded. Slightly panicked, I shook my head rapidly.
“No, no! I don’t know what that is; the Inquisition didn’t do this to me, they’re... doing an investigation. Looking for the people that did,” I said, scrambling. I was sweating despite the cool air. Edacien calmed but still looked upset. He rolled one of the stools over and leaned his back against the wall. Sighing, he waved his hand vaguely towards the door.
“A ghoul is an aether ghost that has enough power and cohesion that it possesses a dead body. The old Necromancers liked to tear out one person’s weave and shove it into another body to make their ghouls,” he said morosely. I opened and closed my mouth for a few seconds, speechless.
“That’s... that’s horrifying,” I said, aghast. Edacien gave me a sympathetic nod.
“It is. Copying weaves has been outlawed by all the Archmages because of it,” he said, adding with a mutter, “...most of them, anyway.”
We fell into a contemplative silence. Ghouls. Ghosts. Necromancers. He had said the words like he was giving a lecture on tax law. I didn’t even need to ask if zombies made the list of newly discovered threats. Was there a difference between a zombie and a ghoul?
Edacien interrupted my thoughts, slapping his thighs.
“I’ll give you fifty mediums for it,” he said. At my confused look, he added, “To let me keep your scan! For my research. I could write an article—or twenty—on it.”
“Didn’t you say that’s illegal?” I asked. He scoffed.
“Copying a weave is illegal; a scan is just an image. Creating an image of a thing is not copying the thing—unless the thing is an image, I suppose. But a weave isn’t an image, so it’s fine!” he rambled.
I politely declined; not only did I have no idea what “fifty mediums” was worth, I didn’t want my brain scan being tossed around by a bunch of mind wizards. He looked put out.
“Fine, your loss. I can’t do anything for your memories. It looks like they’re all there—or at least most of them, given how complex your weave is. Your younger reference weave is useless now, and I’m not going to root around without a valid reference,” he said grimly. I hid my relief behind a veil of disappointment. The blender was staying in the cupboard after all.
“For your system, we have a few options. The Towers maintain several system designs for different uses. Take a look and pick out the one you like,” he said.
He rolled over to a different cabinet and picked out a light blue crystal, slotting it into his control panel and flicking a few switches. The weave scans disappeared and were replaced with an enormous wall of text.
It was a list of entries, each with a title and a short description. The first few entries read:
Adventurer (Melee)
Combat focused tools and constructs, specialized in fighting monsters at close range. Heavy emphasis on physical enhancements and skills, with limited support for utilities and customization.
Adventurer (Ranged)
Combat focused tools and constructs, specialized in fighting monsters at long range. Heavy emphasis on perception enhancements and skills, with limited support for utilities and customization.
Duelist
Combat focused tools and constructs, specialized in fighting people in formal matches. Heavy emphasis on speed and weapon skills, with moderate support for utilities and customization.
Many of them read like classes in a game; some like “Farmer” and “Professional” were even aimed at civilians. Others, like “Efficiency” seemed to describe the system itself. I scanned the list, wondering what each of them would really do. The descriptions were frustratingly short and similar. On my second pass, one caught my eye:
Modder
Minimal preconfigured tools and constructs. Unlimited support for utilities and customization. Enhanced compatibility and efficiency with custom subsystems.
It was so simple, but had incredible potential. I had always loved tinkering away with games and electronics until they no longer resembled the original. This also promised me “unlimited support for utilities”, which sounded extremely useful for... everything. I wouldn’t be locked into a single path and maybe I could even leverage my Earth knowledge to give me unique advantages. I smiled and turned to Edacien.
“I found the perfect one. Let’s do this,” I said.