Guild of Tokens

by Jon Auerbach

“Got it. So you just Quest as a hobby, or...?”

  Steve took a sip of his drink, put the glass back down, and then began stirring the tiny little straw in a clockwise rotation.

  “Something like that. Let’s just say that my father, also a Steve if you hadn’t figured that out from my handle, was so wildly successful in certain pursuits that we wouldn’t have to Quest for several generations even if we spent our tokens like a bunch of drunken sailors in a whorehouse.”

  This conversation was leaving me more and more confused by the minute. Unless there was a whole underground economy run on tokens, what was the point of stockpiling these things when we were living in the real world and needed real money to pay for our real world needs, like food and shelter for instance?

  “Right, right,” I said, as if I knew what I was talking about. “I wish I didn’t have to Quest, but my parents wanted nothing to do with me after high school, so now I’m starting from square one.”

  The lie was believable, or so I thought. I had already given away too much, I realized, when I asked Steve for help, but I thought that he might tell me more if he thought I was one of them, a member of the Questing fraternity, rather than some random person who opened an email one night.

  “That’s a shame,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine if my kid had to work her way up from the bottom. Not that a little hard work wouldn’t do her some good, mind you, but I imagine it’s been tough out there since they opened the floodgates.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You must have noticed, or maybe you hadn’t, because you’re so new, but it didn’t used to be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Quests done for a couple of wood. Not to sound like an old man, but when I was a kid, there weren’t any wood tokens. They started at iron, and a Quester wouldn’t walk out the door for less than 20 iron. And that was for something basic. Now that the Council has brought in so much riff-raff, the bottom fell out, and you can source pretty much anything for a few wood.”

  Steve paused to finish his drink in one long sip and then flagged down the waitress for a second Old Fashioned, which she brought over quickly. It was always a good sign when someone got so agitated that they felt like drinking more; it meant that I was on the right track and just needed to keep needling.

  “But people aren’t just going to keep Questing for wood, right? I mean, what good are they if they’re not even worth so much experience?”

  “Experience. Ha! Another recent invention by the Council. They thought that making the whole thing like a game, peeling things back level by level, would help them find what they are looking for. But no, all it’s gotten them is that motley crew in the church basement. A bunch of people who couldn’t find the Philosopher’s Stone if it was lying on the ground in front of them.”

  So I wasn’t so far off in thinking this whole thing was a huge manipulation of everyone’s dopamine triggers. I would have found the whole thing diabolical if I wasn’t so impressed with the execution.

  “So what is the Council looking for?” I asked. I didn’t know who or what the Council was, but it seemed like the next logical question.

  Steve took a big swig of his second drink and then perused the drink specials placard on our table until the waitress walked by.

  “Two grogs, please,” he told her, which, according to the menu, was a drink that contained one or more of the following: rum, cider, beer head, pineapple whiskey, lemon juice, water, cinnamon, and red dye #2. It sounded disgustingly sweet, the kind of drink that would give you a hangover before the night was over.

  “What are they looking for? That’s easy. New blood.”

  The grogs arrived in big glass mugs with intricately decorated handles. I had barely touched my scotch, as I wanted to maintain my facilities during this conversation, so I hoped that the grog wasn’t too strong. The bartender must have put in copious amounts of red dye #2 (which I thought was a joke) because the liquid was a shimmering red.

  “Cheers,” said Steve as he raised his mug towards me. I clinked mine in response and we both took a sip of the grog.

  Imagine the most foul concoction of spirits, beer, and wine and then multiply that by 30 and you still wouldn’t be halfway to how bad this tasted. For all the simpleness of the ingredients, it felt like the liquid was going to burn a hole in my esophagus, if it didn’t eat through the glass first.

  “New blood for what though? To go on epic Quests?”

  “Epic Quests, ha. Just the Council trying to be creative. You know how many lifetimes it would take to get 185 gold tokens? I’ve never even met someone who had one. No, the Council’s goal is much simpler.”

  Somehow Steve had already drank the entire mug of grog and was eyeing mine lustily. I wanted to pour the whole thing into his glass, but we weren’t close enough for that yet. I also wanted him to get to the point of this conversation before I lost it. It was like he was taking long sips on purpose to avoid getting to the climax.

  “What?” I asked.

  “To find more magic.”

  8

  Sufficiently advanced technology

  “But war makes strange bedfellows and too many of our number threw in with the British. So the rest had no choice but to help the new Americans.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Steve hiccuped, his cheeks alcohol red.

  “S-surely your parents showed you-BWAAAP!”

  The sound and the smell of the loud burp made me cringe. I looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us, but thankfully, we remained safely anonymous.

  “Excuse me. Hooo. The grog is strong tonight, amirite? That needed to come out. Anyway, what was I saying?”

  Steve pulled something out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth. As he chewed, his demeanor began to change almost instantaneously, the drunken sloppiness of the previous few minutes fading to the background and his cheeks returning to their normal color.

  “You were saying that the Council was bringing in new blood to find more magic. What magic?”

  “Oh. Right. You know about magic, yeah? Real magic? Not wave-your-wand-and-say-a-stupid-word magic?”

  No, I didn’t. But please, continue.

  “Ummm, sort of. My parents weren’t exactly the talkative type.”

  “Oh. Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything then. But how awful of your own family to keep you in the dark like that! I mean, I told my daughter the truth when she turned six, although if I known how that was going to turn out, maybe I would have waited.”

  “Your daughter wouldn’t by chance be an 11-year old girl with blond pigtails named Polly, would she?”

  Steve’s face lit up with excitement and I instantly regretted making this connection.

  “Yes, that’s her! How do you know her? Is she mentoring you or something? I told her that she should be helping people instead of trying to scam everyone. The little scoundrel. What a small world. I mean it’s not like there are thousands of Questers in the city, but still!”

  Ah crap. I had just broken open the dam of this whole secret world and now we were going to get sidetracked into a discussion on how great little ‘ol Polly was. If Steve only knew how she had raided his stash of vervorium, then he might not be so eager to sing her praises. Which gave me an idea.

  “No, nothing like that. I did a Quest for her a few weeks back. She wanted to test out a new game she was working on. Cute kid but…”

  I stopped and reluctantly took a swig of the grog, causing me to shiver involuntarily as the liquid cascaded down my throat.

  “But what? What did she do this time?”

  “I don’t want to get her in trouble or anything. I mean she paid me what she said she would, but…no. I shouldn’t.”

  “Yes, you should. You’ve already said enough to get her in trouble, so you might as well tell me so I know how serious this is.”

  “OK. Fine. I’ll tell you. But you go first. Something about ‘real magic?’”

  “Oh.
Right. So. Magic. Maybe that’s a bad word for it. It’s not something you’re born with or can learn by practicing. That’s just some fairy tale that Hollywood cooked up to sell movie tickets. No, magic is something that’s literally a part of the earth. Think of it as this big source of power that’s literally running through the entire planet, like a river. It’s in everything. It can become part of anything. It’s the most valuable natural resource in history and most of the world doesn’t even know it exists.”

  I stared at Steve, not knowing what to say, my pulse quickening and my stomach churning, like the day I got that call from the detective about my mom. I wanted to throw up. What insanity had I gotten myself into?

  “What? I … I don’t understand,” I stuttered. “So you’re saying that there’s literally magic coming out of the ground?”

  “Well, yes. And no. The days of pure magic spouting from the earth like a fountain are long, long gone. If those days ever existed in the first place.”

  “Oh. But… I’m so confused. I mean, I’ve seen some things, but I thought maybe...”

  “That you were losing your mind?”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re not. This is why you’re not supposed to know the truth until level 25. By then, you would have completed enough Quests to realize there was more going on than people asking random strangers to do weird errands.”

  “Right. Well, I appreciate the truth, I guess. So the items people are fetching on the Quests…”

  “... have magic in them. Yes. Not much, mind you. Like any natural resource, magic is not infinite. It can be used up, hence the current predicament. We can’t rely on the old sources anymore. We’ve had to be resourceful, to figure out new wells to draw from. Some of which are inconvenient and messy.”

  “Like the spleen of a rat?”

  Steve nodded.

  “Yes. Yes, exactly! Picture all of the different places a rat goes. The different things a rat eats. It’s a collector of sorts. Of germs and disease, but also, trace amounts of magic.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean that there was magic in people too?”

  “Hmm. Probably. But the amount that could be pulled from a person is not worth the price of admission, if you know what I’m saying. Far easier to kill a rat. Or even a pigeon.”

  I didn’t know whether to feel excitement at this incredible discovery or absolute horror. If magic was real, marvelous, and amazing, that meant that other things could be real too. Like ancient evil monsters sleeping within the earth’s crust waiting for the appointed day to rise up and lay waste to humanity in an ocean of blo-

  “I can tell by your silence that I’ve probably already told you too much. It’s a lot to process, I’m sure. That’s why those that know try to tell their kids early enough so it’s something they think of as part of their everyday world. Your folks did you a real disservice by hiding it from you.”

  “Seems like it. But, to be honest, this whole thing sounds like a far-fetched fairy tale from a guy who’s had too much to drink. I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re what, four drinks in?

  Steve smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out something small in a bright green wrapper, which he put on the table.

  “You’re right about the number of drinks but wrong about everything else. Finish your grog and your scotch and then take this and you’ll see what I mean.”

  That sounded like a terrible idea: get extremely drunk and then pop a who-knows-what from a complete stranger. Yet the next thing I knew, my mug and glass were empty and my hands were fussing with the mystery object on the table.

  The sudden influx of alcohol had already hampered my fine motor skills and so it took almost a minute for me to unwind the green wrapping, which revealed an even brighter orange square gummy.

  I popped it in my mouth and began to chew. Contrary to its outward appearance, the gummy tasted like a rotting piece of fish with the consistency of an uncut cherry tomato. Fortunately it was small enough that the disgusting taste soon faded and I waited for something to happen.

  I began to feel light-headed, the two drinks I had imbibed in successive fashion no doubt working their destructive force inside my liver, and I felt my already-churned stomach getting ready to release its content back up my throat. .

  “Can you excuse me for a-”

  Steve shook his head.

  “Just give it a second.”

  My head began to spin and I gripped the table, expecting the worse. But then, like a flick of a switch, my sober mind was back and my stomach calm. I sat back down.

  “W-what just happened?”

  Steve smiled.

  “Just a little concoction I whipped up using some basic alchemy. Nothing too fancy. Here, take another for your next night out.”

  He slid another green-wrapped gummy across the table and I pocketed it.

  “That was something else. How did you make that? What else can those gummies do? What are the ingredients? Do you need any special equipment? What’s alchemy?”

  “Hmm. Seems like it’s a causing a weird side effect on you. It’ll probably go away in a few minutes. But pretty impressive, right?”

  It was impressive. Something like that could be worth millions, if not billions, of dollars. But at the same time, it seemed so mundane. What Polly had shown me was something I couldn’t have thought possible.

  “Anyway, what was it that you didn’t want to tell me about Polly?”

  “Oh. That. Well, the thing is, she borrowed a bit of your vervorium, whatever that is. Not a lot, according to her. Just enough to create a portal between two shells for a three-card monte scam. It was actually quite clever. I screamed so loud when I put my finger in-”

  The grog mug came down on the table and shattered into a dozen pieces. I looked at Steve, whose forehead now sported several popping veins.

  “I’m sorry, I need to go. Thanks for the drink.” He tossed some crumpled-up dollars on the table and headed down the stairs. I dug a similar handful of money out of my purse, hoped it was enough, and ran after him. Steve had stopped at the bar, where he had pulled out another wad of cash and placed it on the counter.

  “Sorry about the mess.”

  The bartender looked at him quizzically but Steve didn’t stay to explain, as he continued to the door, down the stairs, and out onto the street.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” I yelled at him. He stopped and turned back to me, and I made up the distance.

  “Because my daughter is in more trouble than I realized. Now good night.”

  He started off again but I wasn’t ready to let him go.

  “I know about the books. Polly told me,” I said. Technically that was true. I did know about them, just not what they were or where they were.

  “She did?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t say more, hoping he would spill some more secrets.

  “Bullshit. My daughter may be many things but she’s not stupid enough to give away the Compendium to someone like you.”

  The Compendium. The word dripped with mystery and lore. Now that I knew its name, I had to redouble my efforts to find it.

  “She didn’t give it away. It was a fair trade. I won her little game and she gave me the call number for the Compendium. But a lot of good that did me. Someone else checked it out of the library first.”

  Steve chuckled.

  “The Compendium isn’t in any library. No, I’m afraid my daughter was playing another trick on you. Wouldn’t be the first time. She has bad habit of messing with noobs.”

  “Then what…”

  “Damned if I know. Listen, I really need to get home. Try to stay out of trouble. Especially the alleyway behind Trader Joe’s in Union Square. That’s the Black Vultures’ domain and you don’t want to mess with them.”

  “Umm, OK. And why is that?”

  Steve pulled up the bottom of his sweater, revealing a jagged scar that pulsed with a faint, otherworldy green glow. The vomit that should have come earlier fina
lly rose in my throat and as I stooped over to finish retching, I could hear Steve laughing as he retreated into the distance.

  9

  Girls’ night out

  “I was one of the last holdouts. Most of the men in power were spoken for and it is hard to predict, even for me, who will be pivotal and who will be pitiful. But I eventually found someone suitable.”

  “I canNOT wait to try this food. Lisa, you have to taste this dip. It. Will. Change. Your Life.”

  “Ooh ooh, looks yummy, pass it over here, Stace.”

  “Wait a sec, just need to get a pic for Insta first. OK, one sec.

  #cheatday, #omgsogood, #girlsnightout, #besties. With @lisatees and @jjacs42.

  OK posted. Here you go.”

  “Thanks Stace. Wow, that is good. Try mine. Wait, let me get a Snap.”

  On and on this went for the entire first course. Next time I should remember not to agree to go to a tapas place until the world runs out of rare earth metals and we don’t have any smartphones left. My own food sat uneaten in front of me, not because I was trying to match Lisa and Stacy’s social media whoring, but because I hadn’t been able to keep anything down since yesterday’s fateful evening with Steve.

  It should have been a momentous occasion - the discovery that the world wasn’t what it seemed, that there was something greater lurking underneath the veneer of everyday life. But no, Steve had to leave me with that final parting gift.

  The jerk hadn’t even bothered to see if I was OK after the vomiting subsided. When I finally regained strength enough to stand, he was gone and I was alone. In fact, I had probably never felt more alone. And that was saying something.

  I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling in my bedroom, afraid to fall asleep lest that green glow trap me in a never-waking nightmare. Why couldn’t he have let me enjoy the discovery of the truth for even a few hours, without revealing the darker, horrific side of magic?

  I dragged myself to the office, exhausted, and spent the day trying to forget what I had learned and what I had seen. It didn’t work, no matter how many lines of code my eyes scanned through. I think I fell asleep in the Treehouse for at least an hour at some point, which was good, I guess. But back at my desk, the Quest Board was calling to me.