by Oliver Mayes
Freja stopped filing and looked between him and the money. Then she wordlessly extended her hand to him, palm up. Damien handed it to her and she counted it before giving him a last look and depositing it in her desk.
“All right, but no coming out after 9pm. I don’t need my customers getting antsy about some teenager running around. I get any complaints, I’ll have to throw you out. Copasetic?”
Damien didn’t have a clue what copasetic was, but it sounded good. He nodded eagerly and relaxed. He could finally get off his feet.
“And I’ll need some ID.”
Damien’s face fell. He didn’t even need to say anything before Freja was rolling her eyes again.
“Seriously? Come on, man, I’ve got CU crawling up my a—I mean, CU is not particularly fond of my establishment as it is, I don’t need the hassle. Sorry, you’ll have to go somewhere else.”
She retrieved the money and slid it back over the counter. Damien couldn’t believe it. Just when he’d finally caught a break, it had been taken away again. He tried to keep smiling, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t have the strength left to pretend he was happy.
The entire day had been wasted and he was no closer to finding somewhere that would have him. He missed his home. He missed feeling safe. More than anything, he missed his mother. His mouth tightened, his throat clenched and to his shame he felt his eyes start to sting.
Crying wouldn’t solve this. Cassandra was relying on him. He’d just have to keep trying.
He reached down and put his sunglasses on before slowly drawing the money back into his pocket. He just about managed to murmur out a choked thank you before he turned to the doorway and trudged miserably toward the street.
“Oh, for the love of— what’s the matter with you?”
Damien snapped upright and turned to find Freja had stood up and come out from behind her desk. He cast his face down at the floor, not wanting to be examined when he was in such a state but reluctant to start walking again. He was so tired.
Freja stopped in front of him and folded her arms under her considerable bosom.
“It’s a pod hotel kid, it’s not the end of the world! Just get your ID and then go somewhere nicer than this, huh?”
Damien could hear her tone softening as she spoke. His last chance had arrived. He swallowed, and then he chose his words very carefully.
“It’s not that. My mom’s in hospital, in a coma, and… and I’m locked out of my house. So I don’t even have my ID. Nobody will let me go anywhere without ID. I can’t do anything. I–I can’t…. I just want—”
It wasn’t hard pretending to be sad. In fact, there was no need to pretend at all. His voice trailed off and he clamped his mouth shut as the first tears spilled out from the corners of his eyes.
Freja stomped off to sit behind her counter and regarded him balefully, tapping her long fingernails against the tabletop. Then she let out an exasperated groan, rolled her eyes one last time and held out her hand while still staring up at the ceiling.
“Give.”
Damien meekly stepped forward, trying to discreetly wipe his face as he handed Freja the money again. She dumped it in an unseen compartment behind her desk without even bothering to count and then rummaged around with her head ducked down out of sight. There was a jingle and she returned holding a single key-card. He slowly reached out to take it but she held on tightly, forcing him to make eye contact. The severity of her blue-eyed stare made it feel like he wasn’t even wearing sunglasses.
“You don’t linger. Straight in, straight out. You need to ask for anything, don’t come out of the pod. Ring for service. You look out of your pod and someone else is around, you wait until they’re gone before you leave. Don’t make me regret this.”
Damien nodded and after a tense silence Freja loosened her grip. Worried she might change her mind, Damien quickly murmured his thanks before passing through the curtain.
What lay behind was a pleasant surprise. It was both private and incredibly organized. His last pod hotel had really been an internet café with a few standalone pods chucked in at the back. This was the real deal.
The entire room was lined with pods, rectangular rather than cylindrical and stacked horizontally on top of each other in sets of four. There must have been at least a hundred of them. Each had a tinted window and neon lights decorating their doorway, bathing the room in myriad colors. It was a far cry from the grungy impression it made on the outside.
Damien checked his key and found it was imprinted with the number six, matching a pod right next to him. Freja had put him as close to the exit as possible. He gasped with relief and clambered inside before sealing the door behind him. It was excellent. The other pod had only allowed him to either lie down or stand; this one had just about enough room for him to sit without his head scraping the top. There was even enough space to share with another person…
Damien considered the plastic-coated bedsheets and the conveniently placed box of tissues and realized that was probably exactly what it was designed for. Oh, well, it was a bed and there was Wi-Fi. That was all he needed.
He was working his way through the various features when there was a light tap on the window. He wheeled around wide-eyed, a perfect picture of the CU agents forming in his mind. It was Freja, which wasn’t much better. Surely she wasn’t going to throw him out after all that?
Damien reluctantly opened the pod and she leaned down until her head filled the frame. She looked uncomfortable and for a moment Damien was afraid he’d been right. His fear was only somewhat lessened when she held out a jug-sized plastic cup full of thick green liquid.
“Sorry about before. I’ve never been good with kids. Here, have this. On the house.”
Damien didn’t generally enjoy being referred to as a ‘kid’ and he wasn’t sure how a cup of sludge was going to benefit him, but his mother had raised him well. He took it in both hands, employing a weak smile to hide his skepticism, and placed it in the alcove of his pod with undue reverence. He obviously didn’t hide his skepticism well enough, because Freja’s rough demeanor made an instant comeback.
“It’s nutrient juice, genius. Go slow, there are enough calories and vitamins in that to last you a day. You look like you need it.”
She closed the door and left before Damien could utter another word. So much for customer service. But if it really was nutrient juice she’d just done him a huge favor. He’d had it before, when he and his mother had been tight on money. It wasn’t the most pleasant sustenance, but it was the most efficient by some margin.
He took a sip and his face tried to crawl back into itself. Oh yeah, that was the real deal all right. At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about food.
Damien smiled for the first time since he left Gian’s pod hotel, genuinely and without even thinking about it.
His immediate concerns had all been taken care of. Somehow, against all the odds, he was still here. He had to make the most of it. He forced one last slurp of NJ down his throat, fighting the urge to chew, and pulled his IMBA set out of his bag. There was no time to rest. Not yet. He had a guild to destroy.
22
Untapped Resources
Safely inside his new pod for the evening, Damien pulled the IMBA set on, closed his eyes and opened them again within his base.
A portal appeared on either side of him and the wraith and two hell hounds he’d declined to bind to his Soul Well emerged from two separate portals to greet him. The imps chattered at each other excitedly, glad to see their master had returned.
All except one.
“Where have you been, Mr. ‘I’ll be back in a little while’? What time do you call this?”
Damien wasn’t actually sure. He hadn’t been keeping track. He opened his menu and let out a low whistle. 17:43. He’d been on his feet for the better part of five hours.
“Hey! Don’t open your menu when I’m talking to you! That’s just rude.”
Damien closed the menu again and loo
ked down to find Noigel with his arms folded, tapping his foot impatiently. This was the second time Noigel had mentioned the menu. Very interesting.
Still, it could wait until after he’d put his base-building back on track. His Demon forge had been completed and the imps had even dragged the equipment due for smelting next to it. Damien ignored Noigel and pointed instead at the forge.
“Imps, take all the equipment to the forge and smelt it down. Leave the materials next to the forge and tell me when you’re done.”
Noigel grunted and sullenly stalked away to carry out the command. At least he was still obedient, even if he’d turned into a complete smartass. Damien decided the rest of the imps could manage without him for a minute or two.
“Not you, Noigel. Come with me. We’re going to have a little chat.”
Damien led Noigel up the stairs of the Gateway. From there, he’d have a good view of the forge. Noigel flew to the top and was once again tapping his foot by the time Damien made it there himself. The imp glanced at his bare wrist before looking up and shaking his head in mock disgust, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Damien reached the top and folded his arms, looking down at him.
“So, you wanted to talk. Here’s your chance. What do you want to talk about?”
“Why, I want to talk about me, of course! You’ve been neglecting me over the last couple of days. We should have done this a while ago. Fortunately for you, I’m a very patient imp.”
Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. Noigel was even more conceited than he’d imagined. The imp’s increased intelligence had made him go from irritating to almost unbearable. It had also inflicted a number of changes on the way he presented himself. Noigel was no longer a knuckle dragger, instead standing fully upright like a human being. The nasal quality of his voice had also diminished almost to nothing, although it was still a bit squeaky around the edges.
“My bad, but if you haven’t noticed I’ve been a little busy lately. You serve me, not the other way around. Try to remember that.”
“Oh, but I know very well! And how sad it is you’ve left me unable to serve you at full capacity for so long. Throwing me into battles, trying to use me as bait – menial tasks that any imp could perform! But that’s OK, you got there in the end. I forgive you.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness. I need to know what supposedly makes you better than other imps. Spill.”
Noigel’s jaw went slack.
“Did you miss the part where I was talking to you?”
“I already have Bartholomew if I want someone to talk down to me. Your ability to speak is not particularly useful. If that’s all, I have a base to run.”
Damien turned and made for the steps. He’d only taken a single step before Noigel screeched in protest.
“Wait! Ahem. Wait. I’ll spell it out for you. I possess Forbidden Knowledge.”
That was more like it. Damien turned back and stared at Noigel, tapping his foot and looking at his wrist. The imp scowled at him before relenting.
“Like you, I am not originally of this world. When my intelligence hits a certain threshold, I see things as they are. Stats, levels, skills – everything.”
Damien stopped tapping his foot. That did sound useful. It also explained how Noigel had known about the menu. Damien pointed at Noigel and inspected him. The imp’s stat window popped up above his head. To Damien’s surprise, the imp nonchalantly strolled forward and the stat window remained in place.
Noigel then turned around, his hands clasped behind his back, and started reading his own information. He scanned the window for a few moments before pointing out a new ability Damien hadn’t noticed. ‘Forbidden Knowledge’.
“There, see? Just like I said.”
Damien abandoned all pretense of disinterest. Noigel was self-aware. Well, at least to some degree. He knew game mechanics and could read pop-up windows. Bartholomew had known Damien didn’t live in Arcadia and wasn’t even surprised by logouts, but had never been able to give direct answers to his questions. The vampire had to skirt around instead, trying to explain gaming mechanics in terms of magic and mysticism. Noigel was several stages beyond that.
“What’s the threshold for you gaining Forbidden Knowledge?”
“Fifty points of intelligence. Or nine imps, plus me. That’s when information boxes start appearing and your menu functions make themselves known.”
That made sense. If Damien had been playing at a more leisurely pace he’d have bound nine imps and Noigel to his Soul Well by now, discovering all this at a much earlier level. While other players might be able to ask various NPCs and guild-mates for guidance, the occultist class was a little more… reclusive. Noigel’s Forbidden Knowledge was a clever way of balancing that out.
“This is good to know. Thank you for the information.”
Noigel gave him a mock bow, complete with a flourish of his hand.
“My pleasure. Also, your materials have been processed.”
Noigel had no sooner finished speaking than an imp landed on the platform next to Damien, saluted smartly and pointed down. Damien followed its finger and was most pleased. The iron bars had been stacked into pyramids at the foot of the forge. A brief inspection gave Damien the exact number: Fifty-two bars. It was more than enough to complete Bartholomew’s quest and fuel his own construction needs.
“Master, might I make a suggestion?”
Damien converted his laughter into a choking, whooping cough and looked back to Noigel, his eyes watering. He’d never been called ‘master’ before.
“Yes, Noigel, what is it?”
“If you tell me what you wish to build or upgrade, you can queue the orders with me and I can issue them on your behalf, leaving you free to do other things.”
“So, you’re a minion management UI as well?”
“What’s a yew eye?”
Okay, so he wasn’t entirely self-aware. Damien decided that was a conversation for another day and looked down upon his base. The Soul Well needed upgrading. He needed to hand in his quest and see if there were any new skills for him to learn. Bartholomew would normally have made an appearance by now. Strange. He could leave the construction to Noigel while he went to seek him out.
“Alright then, Noigel, something simple to start. Go tell the imps to upgrade the Soul Well.”
“Sure thing! One augmented Soul Well coming right up!”
He leapt off the side of the Gateway and glided down until he was standing on top of the Soul Well. A harsh bark attracted the attention of the idle minions, who gathered around him in a circle. Noigel switched to his demonic tongue, babbling at them in a measured tone. Then, without warning, he screeched at them at the top of his lungs, stamping his feet and thrusting his claw at the structure below him.
The imps immediately set to work as Noigel chased them around and berated them in a seemingly endless tirade. He was a dictator through and through. It seemed to work, though. Damien watched the timer on the Soul Well get lower and lower as Noigel harassed them until finally it was at a mere five minutes.
The imps were working far faster than they ever had when Damien asked them nicely. He nodded in satisfaction and glanced at the entrance to Bartholomew’s boss floor. The vampire still hadn’t made an appearance.
Time to pay him a visit for a chang—
“I hope you don’t take everything Noigel says too seriously.”
Damien groaned and turned around. Bartholomew was standing in the middle of the platform, exactly where Noigel had been until a few moments ago.
“Could you stop doing that? Please? How long have you been here?”
“He’s very useful, but he does tend to drivel on about ‘levels’ and ‘experience points’ when he gets too full of himself. I think it’s an attempt to drive people to insanity, personally. Fortunately, I’m immune to such feeble mind games.”
Yeah, I bet you are, thought Damien.
“Don’t worry, Bartholomew,” he said aloud, “I think I ca
n handle it. I was just about to come find you. Do you have any new skills for me?”
Bartholomew looked him over and shook his head. Damien’s disappointment was quickly cut off by what his mentor said next.
“I acknowledge your ability as an occultist. It is time for me to step down as your master. You are your own master now. I have one final gift for you: my blessing, and with it, the ability to learn the ways of occultism without me.”
He reached out and tapped Damien on the head for the last time. A notification popped up.
‘Bartholomew has granted you his dark blessing. Congratulations! You are a fully-fledged occultist. From now on, new abilities will become available without returning to your class trainer.’
It seemed now that Noigel’s true abilities had awakened and he was there to assist, the game was phasing Bartholomew out. With this, Damien was a fully independent player.
“Thank you, Bartholomew. You taught me well. I’ll do my best to bring you Aetherius’s head.”
The vampire smiled at him before his expression darkened and he waved a warning finger.
“I still want you and your base gone four days hence. It will become quite disturbing in here now that—well—”
Damien was halfway through raising an eyebrow when a fresh screech from Noigel cut Bartholomew short. The vampire groaned and massaged his temple wearily. Damien just managed to contain his laughter. It would be a shame to spoil this moment.
“Don’t worry, Bartholomew, I’ll be out of here in no time.”
His old mentor nodded approvingly.
“You can always come find me if you wish for more tasks, or advice. I look after my own.”
That was… oddly touching. It was strange, but Damien felt a little less alone.
“Thank you. Really. I might just take you up on that.”
Bartholomew gave him a respectful nod and drifted past him down the steps. Damien remembered the last item on his agenda at the last moment and called out after him.
“Bartholomew! You can pick up the iron you wanted for your quest if you like. It’s right over there, by the forge.”
