by Casey White
Deep within the cave was the object she was looking for. A Calling Altar. They could only be made by Creation Godcores, and it required at least a Platinum rank Core with a single facet, as well as several rare materials. They were all guarded carefully.
Except this one. One of her distant ancestors, back when this barren waste was a lush field, had built this Calling Altar and surrounded it with a pyramid of stone. Even for a crafting Godcore, it had taken decades, and the years had worn the pyramid down to the mountain everyone now knew. Parts of the ceiling had started to run with time, and looked almost like a natural cave - except for the perfectly smooth floor that surrounded the Altar.
Kurli reached into her inventory pouch. While she couldn’t read the inscription on the inside in the darkness, she didn’t need to see it to know what it would say.
Godcore Fragment - 1/64
That always had amused her. The idea that a single person could accumulate sixty-four Godcore Fragments. It had taken her a year to track down the one she found. A Creation Core could craft them once they were at least Gold three, and any Godcore of that rank was unheard of in the Wastes. Still, no one could change how much space objects took in an inventory belt. Those laws were as immutable as gravity or the tides. Maybe in some bygone era, that many Godcore Fragments had been possible.
Taking a deep breath, Kurli placed the Fragment on the Altar.
She’d memorized the sound of the ritual words. But it had been a Gulpish ritual, and she hadn’t been able to get it translated. She had Kurmoz, an Urkin from her village, teach her the phonetics of the language. This dialect of Gulpish was ancient beyond reckoning. He’d been able to tell her it was a ritual of calling, confirming what she needed to know, and knowing the exact meaning wasn’t what was important. The sounds were what was important here. A Godcore could perform Creation without any effort. Kurli had no Godcore.
Something she hoped to fix.
Kurli opened her mouth and repeated the words as she had been taught them, slowly and carefully. What she heard was gibberish. What the universe heard, however, translated perfectly.
We need your aid. The future is broken and needs repair. Come, Champion. Build a better future. Come, Champion. Release us from the shadow that engulfs us. Come, Champion. We need you. Come, Champion, and drown the world in darkness!
The Godcore Fragment burst into light. Kurli went flying back as an invisible force slammed into her chest.
It took her a moment to regain her bearings. Her lips dry, she had to wet them before she could start to click her tongue again.
Nothing. There was nothing there.
“Damnit,” Kurli muttered. It didn’t seem sufficient, but she didn’t have the energy to curse more vehemently. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry. Just punch the floor halfheartedly. She clicked her tongue one more time, making sure nothing had been summoned. No warrior, no Godcore. Nothing. It was just an empty room with an altar and the distant sound of dripping water.
Almost too weary to walk, Kurli forced herself to her feet. She’d have to make camp on the other side of the mountain to keep from the Urkin.
And then she’d figure out what to do now that her greatest efforts had failed.
There were two things she missed. One was that Echolocation, while great for detecting solid objects, did very little to reveal gaseous energy clouds that gave off no light and collected from the power unleashed by the Godcore’s destruction.
The second was, in hindsight, a translator may have been a good idea.
Chapter One
Julian Sullivan didn’t follow any particular religion, but that didn’t stop him from moaning “oh God” as he tried to pry himself from the clutches of sleep. Julian’s apartment reeked of stale pizza, staler beer, and air freshener working overtime to mask the first two smells. Julian sat up, his head spinning from the night before, and sniffed. His nose was stopped up, and it complimented the itching in his eyes.
Knowing what he’d see, he pulled out his phone.
Zero missed calls. Zero text messages. No notifications on Facebook or Instagram. He’d gotten a like on his last tweet the night before, but when he clicked on the profile it belonged to a heavily photoshopped woman with a link to a cam site.
He opened up his messenger and clicked on Maggie’s name. The conversation from two days ago was still there, her last message sitting there.
I’m sorry, Julian. I didn’t want it to be like this. But it’s over. Goodbye.
His own response was sitting there. She hadn’t even opened the text. Just the “sent” notification hovering mockingly beneath the message.
Fine. Leave. That’s what everyone does anyway.
Julian winced at the message. It had been childish. He was better than that.
Except, apparently, he wasn’t.
“You need to get your shit together,” Julian said aloud, his voice raspy from a night of drinking. It was almost startling to hear his own voice. He looked around the ruined mess of his apartment and grimaced. “You at least need to shower.”
Shower. That was a simple, straightforward task. It was something anyone could do. Head still throbbing, Julian forced himself off the couch and towards the bathroom.
The problem, Julian reflected as the hot water washed over him, was that she’d been right to call things off. It would have almost been easier if she hadn’t been right. Then he could have just been angry at her, sulked for a bit, then dusted himself back off and put himself back out there. But that would just lead him back here again. He had to actually fix the problems that had led to the breakup before he could get back out there. His chronic lateness to dates, forgetting anything less important than a major holiday or her birthday, and tendency to stay up till four in the morning tinkering.
Always tinkering.
Julian had studied Engineering in school. He couldn’t say he had a “degree” in Engineering because while he had attended five years worth of classes, he’d changed his exact speciality three times between Mechanical, Chemical, and Electrical before dropping out altogether. He’d styled himself an inventor. He was going to create something that would revolutionize the world. Everyone told him it was impossible, but he was certain he could make something that would change the world.
He’d been twenty-two.
Four years and two failed Kickstarters later, all his discoveries amounted to everyone around him being right. No one could revolutionize the world without capital to invest in their creations. He’d ended up working various gigs - driving to deliver food for lazy assholes, taking surveys online, letting ads run on his phone when he wasn’t looking at it. It was enough to keep him afloat as he looked for the next big break. Or a first big break, really.
Julian turned around and leaned his head back, letting the hot water run through his hair and over his forehead.
That had been the last fight. The one that had led to him and Maggie breaking up. He’d had a new idea. It had been just that - an idea. He couldn’t even remember it now. He’d gone to her with papers he’d practically thrust into her face, babbling about this was the one, this was the way he’d make it big, he just needed to borrow a bit of money and if she could co-sign the loan…
“We had dinner plans.”
That had cut him short. Those four words had completely deflated every bit of energy, especially given how glacially cold her tone had been. He’d tried to apologize and make excuses, but it had been one too many times, one too many missed dates, and then he’d had the gall to show up and ask her to co-sign a loan without even an apology?
Hell, if he’d been her, he would have dumped his ass for that too.
The bathroom went dark. Julian swore out loud and fumbled to turn off the shower. He knew his bathroom well enough to find the towel by blindly groping for it. He tried to remember when he last paid the electric bill. He hadn’t been that far behind, had he? No, of course not. Or...maybe?
Thankfully, it was light out, so the sun coming through
his curtains was enough to allow him to pull on jeans and make his way to the kitchen to sift through the accumulated pile of bills. March, April, and May’s electric bills were all unopened. He pulled out his cellphone to try and log into the website and check, only to be reminded he hadn’t paid that bill and had been using the wifi for data.
Wi-fi he didn’t have without power.
He opened May’s bill. On the very top in bright red letters: “You are 3 months past due. Make a payment by 05/21 to avoid interruption of services.”
That was yesterday.
“Okay, that’s it,” Julian said, speaking directly to the bill. “You’re the last problem. Nothing else is allowed to screw me today.”
As if summoned by his words, there was an insistent knock on his door. Taking a deep breath and half hoping it was Maggie, half hoping it wasn’t, he walked over to the door and threw it open.
Straight into the scowling face of his landlady.
“Julian. Am I interrupting something?” she said, eyeing him up and down with the lack of shame that seemed to be unique to old ladies that had run out of fucks in their forties.
That was the moment Julian realized that, post shower, he hadn’t put on a shirt. He turned red. “No, Ms. Hezel. If you give me a moment-”
“No need. Just wanted to give you this.” She thrust a piece of paper against his chest.
It was a very well worded legal document that made it clear he had until the end of the month to pay both April and May’s rent, or he’d be evicted.
“Ms. Hezel, I-”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve given you an extension or a delay every month, Julian. I’ve given you a break. I’ve waived late fees. I’ve done everything I can to work with you, but this is enough. Both months’ rent by the end of the month, or you’re out the door.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” Julian said. The words came out in a croak.
“I know,” Ms. Hezel said, her lips tight. “And I’m sorry. But there are limits to what I can accept. Maybe you can stay with that girlfriend of yours.”
“She dumped me.”
“Oh. I’m sorry then.” Ms Hezel sighed. “Paperwork’s already been filed. Seven days.”
Julian closed his eyes, trying to come up with some objection or argument that would convince her to give him yet another extension.
When he opened them, she was halfway down the hall.
“Fuck.” Julian said after he had closed the door. That word seemed inadequate to express the depth of the feeling in his soul, but it was the strongest one that came to mind.
Seven days. He had seven days to come up with rent money. While having no power. And no cell service. Which meant he couldn’t do work. He could go to the bank and find out what, if anything, he had in his account. Maybe there would be enough in there to...get food for the day? If that? Most likely it would be overdrawn.
The sheer lack of options was paralyzing. Everything he knew that he could do to earn money involved the internet. He could go to the library to get internet access for a bit, but the gigs he worked required him to have mobile data. Maybe it’s worth a shot. I might have some money in one of the apps I haven’t withdrawn yet. If I do, I can use that to get my cellphone back on. I get the phone back on, I can drive. If I do delivery nonstop for the next seven days and only stop to sleep, I can...he did some quick mental math. Something nagged at the back of his thoughts, some detail he was overlooking.
But the math was checking out. If the tips were good, he could get enough to cover the two months rent before his deadline was up. It was a long shot. But as long as he got just a bit lucky and pushed himself to his limit, he’d be able to pull it off. As long as-
This time Julian couldn’t even swear. It was just a wordless groan. Gasoline. He’d pulled into the parking lot on fumes yesterday. He had just enough to make it to the gas station. But if he didn’t have the money in his account, he couldn’t put anything in his tank.
“I am well and truly fucked,” Julian said, then paused to consider the words. That wasn’t quite right. “I have well and truly fucked myself.”
There. At least that way he was owning it.
Julian cast his eyes around his apartment. The Playstation...did he have enough gas to make it to the game shop and the gas station? He could probably get a hundred from that. That would give him just enough to fill his tank and make a minimum payment on his cellphone bill.
His eyes came to rest on something else, however. A box of spare electronics in the corner of the room. He dove into that to see if anything in there would be sellable before he got rid of one of his few remaining sources of entertainment.
Instead, amidst the assorted wires, random computer parts, and miscellaneous bits of plastic, he found a prototype that represented the closest he ever came to making it big. He picked it up reverently. “Hey, old friends,” he said to it in a hoarse whisper.
He held the two devices with the same reverence a priest showed the Eucharist. One was about as big as his palm, connected to an elastic headband. The other was a bulky black glove which hid wires and sensors attached to each knuckle. The case was white plastic and had sleek lines that made it resemble a smoothed arrowhead. In 2013, he’d paid a pretty penny to have the case 3D printed. It had a piece of clear plastic that he unfolded. Smiling to himself, he put the headpiece on, and slid his hand into the glove.
The current date and time appeared on the left side of his vision. With a flick of his fingers, he switched over to his text messages. Even though they were still a barren wasteland, seeing them like this took the sting out of it. He flicked again and brought up his map program. Even when the grey “Offline” box flashed in his vision, it still couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his lips.
It’d been ages since he’d last touched this. The Augmented Reality Enhanced Vision Experience, AREVE. It synced to a cell phone and gave the user access to all their phone’s features, displayed right over their vision. In theory. He’d only gotten a few things working - time, date, texts, and maps, QR Scanner, and Barcode Scanner. The last was the real triumph. It would let you use the AREVE to scan prices of items at nearby stores in real time, just by looking at the barcode. He’d had investors interested, and had a lawyer he trusted draft paperwork to ensure he didn’t end up getting shafted out of his own company.
Then the first big AR headset by a tech company came out. Suddenly, everyone decided that no matter what, you looked stupid with something hovering in front of your eye. Investors pulled out, and no one else was interested. Even as the big companies kept working on Augmented Reality, no one was interested in taking a risk on some nobody that didn’t even have a degree.
Especially not when a final estimate had come back for a suggested retail price of ten grand.
He noticed the power bar in the top corner just before the 1% display vanished, and the AREVE powered down. Julian sighed, feeling empty, and took them off, sliding them into his pocket. He grabbed the power cord from the box too, with the adaptor that let it plug into his phone. He’d never considered using it during his delivery, but having the maps hovering would make driving safer than having to look away from the road. Nothing in the box would be worth anything to anyone who wasn’t him. At least, not worth enough to make selling it a viable option. The Playstation would have to go.
Come, Champion. Build a better future.
The words echoed through the wall, and Julian rolled his eyes. His neighbors were blasting whatever shitty Anime they were watching so loud he could make out dialogue. Not your problem right now. If he made it to where he could sell the Playstation, he could walk to the gas station. Buying a can of gas would cost extra, but it would let him fill the tank.
“It’s so pointless.”
Speaking to himself was a habit he was developing rapidly, but it was hard to stop with no one else to talk to. The words stopped him short. What was the point of trying? He’d sell one of the few things that gave him joy
and in exchange he’d get a slight extension until the next crisis. The power being out would make everything harder. Maybe it would be better to get evicted, save the money and live in his car. He could travel south where it would be warmer in the winter.
Even that felt pointless. So what if he did? Eking out a living driving for people? Bad credit keeping him out of homes? No health insurance so when he finally did get sick, he’d get slapped with a massive hospital bill?
Come, Champion. We need you.
Maybe that was all that was left for him. A pointless grind on a pointless hamster wheel that would keep him spinning in place until he got lucky or died a pointless death. A dark part of him wondered if that should be “or” or “and”.
When his parents had still been alive, they’d been Christian. Julian had lost that faith somewhere along the way. One too many losses, one too many punches in the gut from the universe. If there was a God, as far as Julian could tell, he was an asshole. He hadn’t prayed in years, and had barely thought about a higher power.
So he didn’t pray. He didn’t believe that it would do anything. Instead, he just entertained a momentary fantasy of what he’d do if he could find a genie. What he’d wish for. Not for Maggie back - that felt like it would subvert her free will, and that grossed him out. He wouldn’t even wish for a do-over. Even knowing what mistakes he’d make, there didn’t seem to be a point.
“No,” he said aloud. “I’d wish for a new life. Start over somewhere fresh.”
Julian didn’t believe in the supernatural. But if he did, he’d have appreciated the irony of what happened next.
He stepped into his bedroom, deciding to grab a shirt. It was pitch black in there, which surprised him. It had still been light out just a moment ago, hadn’t it? It was also colder than it had been in his bedroom. Colder and the air had a ...stale quality to it. As if it hadn’t been disturbed in ages. He couldn’t smell the pizza and beer and bad air freshener, either.
