by Han Yang
Bradley Pierson.
Color me impressed.
“Cool trick,” I said.
He shook his head. “Not a trick. Then again, I feel like I’m wasting my breath with you.” His cocky tone irritated me. I transitioned from confusion to anger, scowling at the young man. “For the sake of your soul. Please take this seriously.”
“So… why am I here, Mr. God?” I asked, deciding to let my anger fade and give the situation a minute.
“Better. Let’s see. You have commitment issues, and -”
I wagged my finger at him. “Just cause I don’t want to marry and have three kids doesn’t mean I can’t commit.”
He was unamused. His lips smacked dryly and he eyed me from down his nose. “Ten jobs in four years.”
“Look, Mr. High and Mighty. I happen to like to shop around jobs, cities, and women,” I admitted with a shrug.
“Born in Portland, lived in South Dakota until college. Started a master’s degree in economics. A field you over achieved in… until you found economics boring. I chuckled at this…”
He paused, shaking his head with a grin. His eyes darted from the paperwork back to me.
“You settled for a communications degree. Talk about getting robbed, you paid eighty grand to get a degree in talking.” He sighed, closing the folder. An unimpressed smug smirk spread across his face. “You’re not going to like hearing this next part.”
“And that is?” I asked with a huff.
“Well, to start, your mind has been… tampered with. Drugged is too much of a heavy handed term. It is to help you from spiraling into despair.” He paused, eyeing me intently. “You died.”
“Esqueeze me!”
He nodded at my outburst, pretending his sleeve was in need of a dusting. I decided to give him a long inspection.
Yeah… His appearance, outfit, hair, and...
Uh-oh!
Even minute detail about the young man screamed flawless, just like a god should be.
Shit.
“Let's say this isn’t a bad dream.” I reached for the file that he retracted with a frown. “Can I have some answers?”
“You went to sleep and there was a fire. The good news is, your cat escaped alive, and is living with Becky…” He opened the file, peering in with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, Becky just got him a cat tree.”
“That hussie.” I folded my arms with grumbles. Becky was an on and off friend of sorts. She did love my cat. “Good for Baxter, assuming this is real.”
“Trust me, it is,” he replied, an ounce of sympathy in his voice.
I tapped the desk, trying to maintain my cool. “Why?”
His smile was genuine as if I’d suddenly pleased him. “I can answer that one. There are six worlds connected. One of them is Earth.” He frowned and I raised an eyebrow at this. He decided on what he wanted to say and continued. “The connections have… errors at times. See a strange anomaly like a random sinkhole exposing a whale, a circus show with a man with horns, and well the kangaroo for example.
“These are all byproducts of rips in the bindings that tether our creations. You will be moved because there is no place left for you on Earth. The best I can do is give you a fresh start on another planet.”
“And the others?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You get to know of one other world. Gearnix. It is a wonderful place full of gizmos, magic, mechanical creations, and untamed wilds.”
His enthusiasm missed the mark for me. I stared at him, fidgeting in my seat. After holding an outburst back, I said, “I’m an out of shape thirty five year old with commitment issues. Fine, I'll admit it. I don’t do extra work, I brush my teeth four times a week… Okay, fine, only three.
“My point is, untamed wilds, is like the last thing I’d consider fun. I go camping, score the girl, and make it home without ever unpacking the tent. Fine, try to score the girl, and strike out a lot.”
The young man shook his head with a grin and said, “There is always the black nothingness of death. Bradley. The first step to changing is admitting you have a problem. Do you realize you still haven’t asked my name?”
“God right?”
“He shook his head. I’m the god of time, Zozo. Before you insult it, my actual name is zero-one-zero-one.”
When he offered his hand, I shook it with a confused look. Making his name one, or just zero, would have worked better. I really wanted to ask but resisted the temptation.
He asked, “Ya ready to learn about Gearnix?”
“Your inflections… they make it seem like you have a,” I snapped trying to find the word, “fascination.”
“Indubiously. Gearnix is mostly my creation. Let me start with why you died and why you will never see me or another god again.” Zozo paused, ensuring I was ready.
I bobbed my head, plastered a fake smile on my face, and said, “Hit me with it.”
“The six planets have ties to each other that revolve around one species. Humanity. I cannot divulge the why, or much about the other gods, but I can tell you that the six have rules. One of those rules revolves around doppelgangers. You familiar with the term?” he asked.
My jaw twisted and I tucked my brows in confusion. “A direct copy?”
“Precisely. Identical twins happen. Identical twin doppelgangers are never supposed to exist. In short, the system we built had an error. Rare, exceedingly so. When this happened an algorithm ran to determine the most worthy life that continues to exist…” He paused, letting the sentence hang.
“Oh shit, a baby. I lost in a number crunching valuation to a flipping baby!” I exclaimed and he bobbed his head.
“The error is sent to me to see if I can insert you somewhere into time where you’ll be forgotten. I’m the fixer in this case, which I’ll admit, your scenario is so rare, it's the third time it's ever happened,” Zozo said in a way that almost made me feel bad.
Except that was asinine. “Let me get this straight. Since I dabbled in java. A creation code, made by a god, had an error that led to my death?”
“Yes,” he said. His scrutinizing gaze judged my reaction.
Anger. ‘Anger is okay,’ Mom would say. It is okay to be angry, and punching pillows was a great outlet to let your emotions flow out of you.
The only proverbial pillow I had was a smug young kid calling himself the God of Time.
Not exactly a smart outlet. I may be an oddball, and I may not want kids or the same job my whole life, but I wasn’t dumb. I slammed my fist into the table, not feeling any better but slightly vindicated in my action.
“Gearnix. I can drop you in, let you wander around and learn as you go. Or let you hit the ground running. Both options come with a downside,” Zozo said. I grumbled and muttered, not wanting to accept my fate. “Bradley.” He snapped, pulling me out of my sulking. “The downside.”
“I… Can I see Baxter and my -”
With a vortexing swirl, I magically vanished from the small room with no way out.
CHAPTER 2
I became a ghost for a few minutes, and miraculously, I didn’t freak out. Zozo transported us back to earth as disembodied beings.
We floated, staring at a smoldering black ruin of what used to be my apartment. A finality to the situation crashed through me and it ripped at my soul.
Nobody cried or wailed at my demise. Not that there was anyone left to mourn me anyway.
I never knew my father and mom died a few years ago when she plowed into a tree during a snowstorm.
The tape around the place looked old, telling me time had passed. I wished the image away.
We swirled into magic, and vanish.
Zozo willed us to a new location. Becky’s apartment, a place I recognized but mostly avoided.
Seeing Baxter curled into Becky who snuggled into a younger dude actually gave me a smile. Good for her, I guess. I certainly did feel better about my only constant friend having a good home.
A spiraling swirl of magic transitioned us
into a warehouse straight out of a steampunk movie.
“Awesome!” I exclaimed. “Talk about a way to break a man of his miseries.”
I found myself immediately fascination in all the cool trinkets and doodads that decorated the space in an orderly manner. The joyful wonder changed when I spied a large rack of weapons.
Right in the middle of the display, a sword with serrated teeth rested prominently. The weapon was a personal chainsaw on a blade of sorts. When I shifted from that, I saw a whole rack of pistols with intricate designs and golden plating.
The etchings marveled me with their uniqueness. Each pistol had a steam vent and a square box. When I saw there was no ammo loading point, it left me confused.
I spied shotguns next to the sidearms. The trumpet type exit reminded me of a blunderbuss you saw dwarves use in games.
And finally, I saw fancy looking long rifles. A quick inspection revealed no ammo cartridge points, or slots for rounds. Only vent stacks and a square opening where the ammo should go.
“When you say wilds, you mean…?” I said, moving on to inspect mechanical body parts. Human body parts…
I blurted. “Gruesome.”
“Those are metal replacements. You ready to hear the downside?” Zozo asked.
I nodded while plucking an ear off a counter. This ear shape into a tiny speaker that reminded me of those old record players protruding from the construct. “How fascinating.”
Zozo said, “Gearnix is ruthless outside and even inside some cities. The world operates on a magic known as hydrox. Most call it H, or hyd, hydro, and a few use the full name. Hydrox has magic that is indeed magical, and not the kind you like to associate with. Well, yes, no, maybe, it depends, and it's different. Sorry. I’ll start in the crawl phase.
“Hydrox is magical water contained in a shape. That glorious swirling blue is the currency, the power, and the lifeblood of Gearnix. To obtain this magic one must venture into the wilds.”
He sighed happily, his eyes glazing over in reminiscing of some thought.
“Careful, the wilds are littered with dangerous creations. After defeating a creature you will have to extract the hydrox from the heart cavity. You trap a rabbit in its burrow to eat because you’re hungry. When it dies, its heart will become a shape with something close to hydrogen fuel inside.
“Pay attention to this part. Do not touch the bluish white magical object with your skin. It will cause necrosis and that is hard to repair. We good on that part?”
I opened my mouth to reply but became stunned into silence when I saw a group of three foot tall walking robots moving supplies.
The parts creaked with each step. Zozo walked over to a shelf, grabbing a bottle. He sprayed each little cute machine with oil.
The creaking stopped, letting me hear the whirl of servos and the hiss of steam ejecting from ports.
He set the bottle back upon the shelf to retrieve a part from the morbid table. I accepted a metal prosthetic for a left hand that he offered.
Zozo said, “You’ll need one of these without a doubt. Your other upgrades will come later, but even children get a carrying hand.”
“A what?” I blurted.
“You’re lucky I control time and have incredible patience. There is magic that comes in shapes that contain?” He tested me, leaving question open for me to answer.
“H. Or hydrox if I’m being proper.”
“Very good. The more sides to the object the more the container contains. A triangle has more energy in it than a circle and less in it than a square,” he said, and I set the hand down to focus.
“Okay, so I take it all the shapes fit into a square?” I asked, pointing to the weapon slots.
“Yes and no. Kill a steamworm and its heart will be the size of… you. There is no magic bag of holding. You can convert big objects into little objects at a planetary podium.”
“What’s that do?” I asked, playing with the mechanical ear on the table.
He bobbed his head happily. He certainly seemed to be enjoying this process. “Gearnix Stations. These stations are the ultimate sink of obtained hydrox. They were designed by yours truly and should not error I hope, since they’ve been running smoothly for ages. You’ll use the stations to buy parts for anything and everything. They also can be used to exchange shapes to convert currency.
“Careful, these stations have a tax set on them by city lords and rulers. I’ll cover more of that later. Just know that you go into the wilds, reap some hydrox, and buy new parts in a Gearnix Station or at an older shop. You overloaded yet?”
I shrugged. “The planet has shopping stations for parts. High taxes mean I buy less and should be careful where I spend my hard earned hydrox.”
“Not bad. Also, every machine you see in here, and on Gearnix, requires magical fuel. When the steam is expended as mist, the planet recaptures the magic, and disseminates it back into the wilds. These slots you see on the steam machines are where you give them their hydrox power.”
“Ah… kinda hard to feed the… the… robots hydrox to work if you can't touch the magic,” I said, folding my arms to watch the small robots moving body parts onto a short table.
“Precisely. Now. These little guys have a hundred names and variations. Regardless, a steambot can run out of energy and that means…” he craned his neck forward, hoping I’d finish the sentence.
“I go to a local farm, buy a bunny, eat bunny soup, and use a metal hand to put more energy in the cooking steambot. They can cook right?” I asked and he shook his head.
“Close. No to the bunny. Yes to the cooking. Wild! Wild! Wild! Say it with me…”
“Wild,” we said in unison. I continued with, “Why Wild?”
“Ah, a farm animal contains no magic. It becomes domesticated and its heart loses the power the wilds once fed it. Else you’d have massive farms and no one adventuring.” He oozed an excited tone and his mannerism showed that he loved the concept. “Quick recap. Killing creatures, beasts, creations, abominations, spirits, and monsters in the wilds, fuels the world with the all-powerful hydrox. You buy parts to construct steambots, carriages, weapons, housing, and more with hydrox at Gearnix Stations.”
“Not going to lie, that sounds scary, and pretty epic at the same time,” I admitted, heading to the table with the morbid amount of human parts in metallic form.
“There are quests, bounties, and… I’m getting ahead of myself. We have the basis for the world laid out. Go forth, earn hydrox, go back to civilization and expand, relax, or buy neat steam themed items.”
“Okay, again. Feels crazy to think of this as real and that I’m dead… but what is the point?” I asked and he blinked a lot. I rolled my wrist to get him to answer to no effect. “Ah, the same point of any world. To live and to become greater than you currently are.”
Zozo nodded. “Yeah, there are conditions you can choose to improve, or causes to fight for…” he mumbled to himself before wagging a finger. “The ultimate achievement is opening a new settlement. That helps so many and is exceedingly rare.”
I sighed and said, “So… it’s not I defeat a dragon and then get to come back to Earth?”
“No, there is no kill the raid boss and get to Earth. You will never go back to a cat that is content and an apartment that was destroyed. This is a chance at another life. Remember those books you read as a kid?” he asked.
I tilted my head until the memory came to me. “The flip the pages, choosing my own adventure?”
“Precisely. This is just like that, except you don’t go back and forth. You simply adventure based on your choices. Gearnix will have adventures and challenges galore. Oh, I almost forgot. Silly me. You can improve your skills. There is that to find as a worthy endeavor.”
His joyful tone had me a tad confused. “Like leveling up in a game?”
“Yes and no. There is no respawn unless… well the gods are fixing an error like we are right now. Anyway, look at that pistol there. You take five steps back from tha
t target on the wall,” he said and I tracked his movements. “You fire ten times and hit the center twice. Next time you hit it three. You will be able to go to Gearnix Station, set the weapon down on the interior podium, and see your proficiency. The magic of the world tracks the number.
“The better you get at shooting the higher the score and the smoother your actions become. Consider yourself warned. You get drunk, fire at a rabbit with glee and miss ten shots; your proficiency goes down the next day and you shoot like it's an off day, because it is. Simple fix, get more hydrox and practice aiming. Get the picture?”
“Sorta. Will it auto aim for me when I become max skill?” I asked and he shook his head, holding up a finger for a caveat.
“It will assist your aim and at an uber high proficiency you can calculate trick shots. And before you continue to drool at the steamguns, realize that they have a high cost to operate, and a high cost to become proficient in. A good old fashioned sword is free to swing,” he said, handing me a cutlass.
“I take it I start everything at zero?” I asked.
“Heavens no. Okay, yes on most everything. However, you're educated, sure… in a crummy degree that is not so horrid on a foreign planet. Gearnix thrives on bartering, negotiations, and interactions. Sometimes you run into outright idiots and others, there will be idiots who are geniuses playing you. So… you’ll have a fresh body, a sharp mind, and a long life ahead of you.”
I winced at this last line. After seeing the damage to my apartment in ghost form, my mind accepted I had died. My death had been an error removal because of my specific genetic code.
Of course I’d need a new body. At least he is being pleasant. It really is making this easier.
He smiled with a painful squint. “Sorry Bradley, you gotta start in a new body. That is half the fun though, right?”
“I guess.”
“Taking this like a champ.” He smiled.
“Not like I have a choice.”
“Exactly, making lemonade from lemons. You’re right handed. I highly recommend replacing your dominant hand with an augmentation. Now…” He gestured in a full circle. “You’re not here shopping. You’ll arrive as a wayward traveler with the bare essentials. This is just me giving you a taste of the world that awaits you. ”
