New System, Who Dis?

Thursday, April 4th, 2069

The trip back was the opposite of what I expected. First, the quiet introspection by the Miners only lasted perhaps five minutes, or until everyone was confirmed to have exited the Mining caverns. Then, we were led back to the entrance of the Portal. Once the exterior of the Portal was cleared by our guides, we were sent through, and I experienced my second trip through a Portal before we were efficiently loaded back onto the ATV. Once aboard we met the group who carried away the man who had been missing limbs.

The mood instantly felt turbulent right up until people noticed the fifth member with some very red skin on his intact limbs, and parts of his body. While there wasn’t cheering or loud exclamations of joy, each member took a moment to go pat the man on a shoulder, head, or knee. I was the odd man out here, not feeling comfortable approaching a person I didn’t know, but I definitely felt the simmering undercurrent of relief that I assumed everyone else did. It was good to know that if you got injured that you would be healed.

“The Healing this meat sack received is surprisingly good. Not many Healers on Crendalar could regrow limbs, and the ones that could were beyond expensive.” Smegma commented, his voice speculative and clearly not meant to start a conversation. He paired his introspective comment with a motion that looked like he was squeezing biceps that he didn’t currently have.

For my part, I was too busy tightly clutching my ‘trophy’ from the day—the clear Spent Mana Crystal. I was also busy funneling each regenerated point of Mana I received into Demonic Vault. It was rather enjoyable to watch the mC number climb ever closer to ten thousand. While I say ever closer to ten thousand, I was still over five hundred points away, which wasn’t exactly achievable, at least not tonight.

That thought depressed me a bit, because if I couldn’t grab a Miner’s Pick tonight or in the morning, I would have to wait till tomorrow night. My reasoning was that if I suddenly pulled my own pick out of mid-air while Mining there would be questions; one of which would be ownership. If I got it at home, all I would have to do is leave the house for an hour or two tonight and borrow the car. Then come home and claim I bought it. Then when I arrived at the site, I’d be in possession of my own pick, which would put a stop to all questions of ownership.

Suddenly, I had an idea. Smegma was a merchant, right? The world was full of different things, and after talking to the Imp, I realized that there were things we likely valued very little that Smegma or his Sect might value very highly, or vice-versa. Could I become an interplanetary Silk Road middle-man between his world and mine? I did have some savings…

[Smegma, would you accept other objects for Mana Coins?] I asked mentally, thinking about taking that shopping trip but purchasing objects with another form of currency.

Worldwide Greenbacks. The world-wide accepted currency, which—let’s be honest, was just American Dollars with a name change. According to history, the name change was ceded to assuage other nations when the Awakening Advent occurred. It was somewhat amusing since the currency was identical to previous US dollars, with one change so far. The twenty-dollar bill print had a new face, and that was Connor O’Gorman, the Hunter Association president and worlds first double S Hunter. Plus he was unsurprisingly, American—so I wasn’t even sure if that wouldn’t have happened either way.

It also didn’t help that the term ‘Greenbacks’ never really caught on, and that most people still called the global currency ‘dollars’, but they tried, I guess.

“If it has any value, but I doubt you can buy anything I’d be interested in. It isn’t like you can send a Healer over…”

I looked at the Healed man who looked exceptionally tired from the day’s ordeals, and then rolled my eyes. Even if I could purchase a person, there was no way I’d be sending them to Crendalar Five after Smegma’s admission. Still, I loudly heard Smegma’s stance on Earth’s everyday items and technology. It didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try, plus there were always credit cards to max out for something of true value…

[You’ve been floating around and annoying me long enough that I’ve realized a few things. You’re not impressed with our technology, and you seem to roll your eyes at how we are utilizing the newly available resources, but I was thinking that the raw resources we’re using so poorly might be worth more to your people than to us, at least for now,] I began to explain.

As I floundered for more to say, more that would truly highlight just how far spanning this idea could go, I glanced over at the Imp. Surprisingly, he was smiling. It was… terrifying.

“You forgot one… little thing in your fledgling plans of world domination.” His voice was smug. I hated it already. “You see, I’m the merchant here. I’m the one connecting entire worlds through my sheer awesomeness. The merchant makes his money through the margins, not the seller.”

I frowned. Smegma smiled cheerfully, and added a final line that turned my frown into a scowl of distrust. “It’s still a good idea, though. Definitely worth exploring.”

He basically just told me he would try to rob me blind on any transaction, hadn’t he? Sure, I’d likely get some value out of the trades still, but this felt like it should be a relationship of mutual benefits. At least to me. Wait—

Was he already doing that with the Mana Crystals? My eyes narrowed and I ground my teeth as silently as I could manage. I’d keep that little slip up from the Demon in mind for later.

The ATV came to a stop, and then slowly inched forward as if suddenly stuck in rush hour traffic. The silence in the cab lessened, as murmurs of conversation sprang up. Willa and my dad were no exception. My dad started by directing a question to me, “So, how are your hands feeling after your first day?”

I released the Crystal with one of the hands in question and looked at the thick monster-skin glove that covered it. Opening and closing my fist made me realize just how odd my hands did feel. I had expected Recovery to have fully taken care of any problems, but my hands did feel quite numb after the day of work.

“Not great,” I said as I stared at my own hand that didn’t feel like it was totally under my brain's control. “Numb and weak.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Willa exclaimed. “Mine are feelin’ the same but that be because I tried my hand at that Necrograph deposit. That stuff needs a magic jack hammer or a Specialist, I think.” Willa opened and closed her hands, mirroring me, though she no longer wore her gloves.

My dad noticed the difference and reached over to help me take off my gloves.

It took me a second to realize his intention. I spoke up. “No, not yet. There are a couple sharp places on this Crystal. I don’t want to cut my hands.”

“I already told you, it isn’t just touching the thing that activates it,” Smegma groaned from beside me. He sounded like he was talking to a child. Unfortunately I had once again forgotten that point, and it was too late now—so I stuck to the lie.

My dad blinked then nodded. “Okay, but once we get in the car, I’ll need to take a look. My guess is your hands are covered in blisters.” At my widening eyes he chuckled. “Don’t worry, I have a salve in the car that will instantly heal them but leaves behind the calluses. As for that Crystal, we’ll have to file it down later, I don’t want your friends getting hurt if they come by to study. I’ve got a grinder in the basement.”

I nodded, even though there was no chance of him using the tool to ruin my Spent Mana Crystal. While it was true that there were some sharp edges to the thing, that wasn’t the real reason I hadn’t wanted to touch the thing. I wanted to hide my face in my hands, but fought the urge and instead turned to Willa and asked, “Are there better picks out there that would turn an experienced Miner into a Specialist?”

“Oh sure, but they be stupid expensive. Plus, they break quick. So, it be a gamble.”

“Gamble?”

This time my dad answered the question. “Yeah, you get higher pay as a Specialist, and the group could get a higher bonus with more people able to mine deposits like True Gold, Thorium, Necrograph or even stronger materials. However, as you saw today, bonuses are anything but guaranteed. Then, when you have to repair your pick, if you don’t have enough money—it’s coming out of your pocket. We’ve had a few people give it a try, Willa and I included. I think I was in the black by about a hundred bucks when mine broke for the fourth time, and I just gave up. Willa, how much did you lose again?”

“Husk Gary, ya know better than ta bring that up.” Willa glared at my dad, then softened the look when she saw me intently looking at her from my seat between them. “About ten thousand,” she answered sheepishly. My eyebrows rose.

“How much does one of these picks cost?” I asked, trying to understand how she could have gone that much into the red.

“Anywhere from five thousand to a hundred thousand, depending on the quality and what it will do,” my dad nonchalantly quoted.

“That’s because you are walking apes and can’t figure out how to create a self-repair Enchantment,” Smegma said insultingly. It allowed me to know that he had returned to this side of the cabin, but I ignored him, more interested in what these expensive pickaxes could do.

“What could make the most expensive one worth that kind of money?”

“They aren’t really, unless you’re Minin’ in higher rankin’ Dungeons. There be multiple problems with buying an expensive pick. Primary amongst them is that a Minin’ Pick ain’t always the best tool for the job. You’d gone to da next cavern already, but sometimes you want wedges and sledgehammers. Or a jackhammer. So, yeah, a Miner’s pick can work for all deposits and Crystals, but if you really want to do it right you need a whole set—and don’t even get me started on how much that would cost—“

“—Nah,” Smegma interrupted, cutting off some of what my Willa said next. “A Skilled Miner can do with just the pickaxe, well at least one of my—”

“—answer what’s on a pick to make it worth that kind of money. Sellers claim that the higher end models can help guide you to existing’ cracks and strike points while you swim’. The heads are also made of metals from C rank Dungeons, which means that they are absurdly durable. However, it usually isn’t the metal that breaks, but the Enchantments, so the better the Enchants, the more expensive the repair…” My dad said while looking wistful. I could tell he wanted a pickaxe like that, but simultaneously couldn’t justify spending a quarter of our house's mortgage on the thing. Not to mention the possible millions it might be to get a whole tool kit.

I glanced at Smegma, thinking over his interruption. I couldn’t see how additional tools wouldn’t be helpful for various situations… It took me a second to notice that the Imp was practically apoplectic with rage.

[You okay there, buddy?] I asked hesitantly. His face looked ready to pop like a balloon at any moment.

“Higher-end models of pickaxes in your world make it easier to shard Crystals faster?!” His head might not have exploded, but his voice sure did. I winced in spite of myself, trying not to give away to everyone that I had an imaginary friend with me who could rupture eardrums. “There’s an entire branch of Enchantments dedicated to helping tools pull Crystals, Herbs, Fruit and Skins whole and unblemished and you—you…” He buried his face into his hands, continuing to rant.

I caught what sounded like laments about his world being starved of Mana while we ‘burned the garden of the Gods and laughed while we did it’. For the briefest of moments I thought he might be right, but surely he’d misunderstood what Willa had meant. She was saying that the Mining Pick Enchants helped mine minerals not Crystals.

A smile came onto my face as Smegma continued to rant about idiotic Flesh Demons, and the state of his world. Seemed like ‘big brain’ had gotten it wrong—and I was perfectly content to let him think that.

Our group lapsed into silence after that. Allowing me to truly bask in Smegma’s displeasure with our race. I hoped the other two didn’t think my wide smile was too weird for the situation. I glanced around to make sure I wasn’t getting strange looks. Willa was stewing in the memory of her debt, it appeared, while my dad was daydreaming.

For my part, when I wasn’t laughing at Smegma’s mood, I was rejoicing. I may have found the perfect market for the Miner’s Picks that Smegma was selling. I scanned back to the Crafting Components and wondered if there was anything else in there that could be as valuable. Like the Herbalism Kit—could a Gardener get the same use out of it as a Miner and the picks?

My knee began jumping up and down in excitement, and my dad broke out of his waking dream to stare at my telltale ‘jimmy leg.’ “You’re thinking of buying one, aren’t you?”

The ATV not coming to a coasting stop, saved me from answering. We must have made it through the gate and back into Windsor. The conversations went from controlled murmurs to excited exchanges. People took the opportunity that this provided to congratulate the injured man on his survival. Everyone stayed strapped into their seats, but a song started up. It wasn’t a song I was familiar with, and if I was honest, the song practically had no tune. It reminded me of Happy Birthday in a way, with a rote set of words that allowed you to insert someone’s name into the jingle. The man’s name was Silvia, and he managed to perk himself up enough to smile through the somewhat haunting melody.

Mining tales of Miners tells,

Of one who went to Mine and Fell,

For though they crossed the Line Within,

All Mines and Miners meet their Ends.

We take our Picks for Mining Licks,

To each our own, the Mining Tricks.

But, ho' today's a Mining Day!

And lo' the Miners come to Play!

The Miners come for Mining Well,

They leave their Ghost, to Mining Dwell.

But woe to those, the Mine it Picks

For lo' they go give Death a Kiss,

Who was Kissed amidst the Dark?

T'was Silvia who played their Part!

Who took to Mine like it’s a Sin?

T’was Silvia who took the Win!

Who Fell that day, like it was Art?

T'was Silvia who played the Part!

Mining tales of Miner's Tells,

Of one who went to Mine and Fell!

The song repeated until the ATV came to a stop and continued for a third round even as the hatch lowered. Even the Lynx’s Hunters and Banks joined in, making me one of the few men or women not singing along. No one unstrapped until the third time through, even though the hatch had been fully dropped for about forty seconds at that point. Then as if the ending of the song was a cue, people unstrapped, and descended the ramp.

Some groups formed at the bottom of the ramp, and I could tell that these were the bar flies. The somewhat younger group of men, mixing with the two-decade senior ones a dead give-away. This was the afterwork crew who either didn’t have responsibilities at home or were past those responsibilities. The second and more damning piece of evidence was that they all headed toward a pub that was easily visible across the road from the parking lot.

“Do ya want to head over for a pint at ‘World’s End’ to celebrate Brodie’s first day,” Willa asked.

I shook my head. “I’d really like to get home. I still need to call the school and drop this semester’s courses. Then I’d like to go to the Hunter’s Mall and grab some more appropriate clothes for tomorrow. I can’t keep wearing civilian clothes under the loaner armor.”

“Okay, but you two are joining me tomorrow whether you like it or not. No excuses!” Willa exclaimed and then jogged to catch up with the group.

Turning to my father I raised a questioning eyebrow. “She goes for one beer most days. Says it clears the dust from her throat.” I nodded but he changed the subject. “Are you really only going to buy clothes?”

I looked at him, and then motioned to the car, trying to say we should talk on the drive back. He frowned but nodded. I grabbed the bag of loaned armor and my pickaxe and together we moved to the trunk of the Ford Escort. In quick fashion we were out of the armor and packed up. We both got into our seats and I was surprised to find my dad reaching across to snatch my hand.

He examined my left hand as his brow furrowed, then he absent mindedly snatched my right and checked it too. After staring at it and then back to my left for a short few seconds he looked up to meet my eyes. “Since when do you have the calluses of a veteran Miner?”

I looked at my own hands, not having to fake my confusion. Sure enough, I had rather large calluses that I knew for certain hadn’t been there before. Just like my appearance I took careful care of my hands. Sure I’d had some callouses from the gym, but this was as my father alluded to: Excessive.

“I’ve had them for a long time,” I lied. “You know, weights and Muay Thai, dad.”

I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t tell my dad about my Recovery Skill yet, but I just didn’t. If he heard about Recovery I’d probably tell him about Mental Fortitude and then Demonic Vault—and I just wasn’t sure how that would go.

Instead, I motioned for him to start the car, and he did after a final skeptical look at my hands. I waited until we pulled out of the parking lot to start talking, which effectively distracted him from my hands. I used the time it took to navigate the Ford Escort through parking spots to finalize the partially formed plan of what I wanted to say. Smegma didn’t help as he offered suggestions that no human would ever take.

My final decision, on the ATV ride back, was not to tell my father the whole story just yet. I had begun by thinking I would confess everything that had happened since Morgan Hallsbrad assaulted me, but eventually landed on the complication—Smegma. I just couldn’t be sure how my dad would react to me telling him I had a Demon Imp that was going to sell me items from his ‘destroyed’ or slowly dying home world.

Religion, particularly Catholicism—was extremely prevalent in our part of the world. While my family weren’t devout followers by any stretch of imagination, they still might feel the need to have an exorcism performed. Or consult ‘experts’.

I just wasn’t ready for that level of scrutiny. No, if I was honest, I didn’t want this opportunity to be taken from me. So, any risk of that was unacceptable.

“I know you said that it’s a gamble,” I started, and saw my dad’s face morph into a deep disapproving frown. “But!” I added pointedly before he could get a word in. “I think that I Awakened a second Skill.” The frown became numerous blinks and Gary went as far as pulling to the side of the road.

“What?!” he asked, his voice excited but also unbelieving.

“Today when I was swinging the pickaxe, I could feel my Mana Pool draining. Then, on a particularly bad swing I chipped off a bit of the metal, and that’s where things got strange. The chipped piece kind of returned to the pickaxe, like it was magnetized. I thought I imagined it, but it happened a few more times throughout the day. I think I have a new Skill that repairs weapons, maybe even armor.”

Sure, that was a lie, but it was what Smegma and I managed to come up with.

My dad screeched the tires as he pulled to a quick stop on the side of the road. Once the car stopped he turned on the four-way blinkers in the car and avoided looking at me. He breathed in deeply and then let the air out in a long slow sigh. He scratched roughly at his beard and didn’t look at me for the next several minutes as he continued his patterned breathing.

Finally, he did turn on me, and I could see a glimmer of something in his eyes. “Brodie, you would be one of possibly one or two percent of the world’s population with two Awakened gifts. Are you certain you aren’t still just reacting to the Mana Assault?”

I nodded, having expected some sort of reaction like this. It was extremely rare to have two Awakened Gifts. Just as rare to ‘re-Awaken’ according to everything I read. Looking my father firmly in the eyes I whispered, “I’m pretty sure dad.”

“You heard Ms. Stovall, son. It would be on par with winning the damn lottery to have re-Awakened, outside of a Portal!” My dad argued one final time, his eyes staring earnestly into mine. When I didn’t look away he nodded slowly and took a deep breath his eyes going unfocused for a moment

This probably meant he was currently internalizing the ‘bombshell’ I just dropped on him. After a moment he looked back up.

“That doesn’t mean you need to be a Miner Brodie!” he said, his voice animated in a way that wasn’t quite excitement—more like agitation. “If you have another Skill, and that particular one, you could repair my pickaxe every night at home.” This time the excitement was real, and I smiled.

“Got ‘em,” Smegma said, evilly. My smile slipped a bit. I wasn’t sure I liked how much Smegma seemed to want me to lie—wanted me to do things that were morally ambiguous.

Still, this was exactly where we hoped my lie would lead, and realizing this allowed my smile to grow. Thinking of the hopeful destination turned the look devious.

“And Willa’s,” I added.

My dad demonstrated where the habit of my jimmy leg, when I got excited, came from, as his leg began bouncing under the steering wheel.

“Should we get you tested first?” he asked, and I shook my head. I truly wasn’t sure where I would rank now that I had three Skills of relatively high rank and a Mana Pool.

The UNMH provided free surface scans of all Awakened, and I had already completed one to find out that I had an F-rank Skill. That test was more of a quick aura scan. There were more in-depth tests, or rumors of them at least—for those who were scanned with Skill rankings higher than C or had the money to pay for them. According to rumors you could find out a little more about your Skill specifics, which made it valuable for combat Hunters.

“No, I think if I go buy one of those five-thousand dollar picks you mentioned, I can prove it myself tomorrow. Plus, I don’t know if it only works when I’m the one holding the pick. I don’t think that’s the case, it feels more like a mark I’m applying to the Pick that slowly repairs it using ambient Mana. Still, I think slowly figuring it out through us will be way cheaper than spending twenty-five thousand on an Assessor.”

“I guess that’s true,” my dad said sheepishly, some of his excitement seeming to escape from him. “If the Skill is strong enough though, you should get it Assessed. Even D-ranks get free tuition at lower end UNMH sponsored Academies!”

“If this Skill works the way I think it does, then I could go to school and start a business, right?” After that suggestion, it took a few minutes for my father to get a hold of his bouncing leg and be able to drive again.

The drive home was very pleasant after that, if I ignored Smegma’s snide comments. My dad spoke excitedly about future possibilities: if I actually had a secondary Repair Skill, about him starting his own Mining crew, filled with nothing but Equipment Specialists, and about how my mother would never have to work again.

“If it is a repair Skill, do you think we should buy the picks and rent them to others? I would need to repair them or reapply whatever my Mana is doing each night, so…” I let my thoughts hang in the air.

“Not sure. If you need to repair them, that would be the easiest, and we wouldn’t have to tell people about your Gift. Just say that it’s for maintenance or perhaps even use the excuse of replacing them. However, if people know about your Skill, we can also just charge them for repairs, but keep it more reasonable than if they went to an Enchanter or Blacksmith.”

My heart hammered as I heard that suggestion. “I think I’d prefer to keep it hidden,” I lied, further realizing that the lie was getting larger with every sentence. I consoled myself with the thought that I’d tell my parents the whole truth at some point.

My father helped me feel worse instantly when we pulled into the driveway. He stared pointedly at our front door and said, “That’s true. Probably best to keep it hidden for now. However, I’m not the only one you need to convince.”

I joined my father in imagining the upcoming conversation.

“Are you both afraid of Clara?” Smegma asked. “She’s half the weight of both of you?”

I didn’t humor the Imp with a reply and just continued to stare at the front door to our house. In a whisper I asked, “Can you let me take a shower first?”