The Connected System

Theodore slowed down as they passed the newcomers. The large group was gathered around one of the Clan’s secretaries. She had some fancy title, maybe it was even a Class. Theodore didn’t know and didn’t care. The Voice didn’t care either.

He studied the newcomers, blocking out Roger’s continuing ranting which Micheal Turner had joined in on. Most of them were non-combatants. A couple of children. The combatants all carried swords. The obvious leaders, an older man and one around Theodore’s age wearing a large two-handed sword, were closest to the secretary. They were pointing at the various members of their group. The one with the sword felt Theodore’s gaze, lifting his head to look. Theodore smiled, the man looked away.

The Voice suggested talking to the man later. He didn’t look happy, somewhat aggressive. The man could be a welcome addition to the growing Hive. They needed more combatants. Theodore had more success converting the non-combatants. Those people were more dissatisfied with life under the Connected System and were more easily persuaded to join the Hive. Not that they knew they had joined.

None of them did, not even Roger who had been entranced the longest. The Voice worked in the back of their minds, not as strong as it was with Theodore. It was more of a whisper. Always there, always influencing, changing their minds in subtle ways.

It was hard to make the connection between the Adapted and the Hive. Even a Level One Adapted had some resistance to mental control. A higher Level could brute force the control but they would need to be close to the target. For something like what the Voice was doing, it was harder and took more time. An Adapted could easily resist.

At first. But the longer the Voice was in the back of their minds, whispering, the harder it was to fight off the control.

For the other Adapted, but not Theodore. He wasn’t being controlled by the Voice. He was an equal partner. His mind was completely free. His thoughts were his own.

He walked past the group, pausing to decide where to go. Upstairs to the classroom that the group shared with others? Except for Micheal. He shared a smaller classroom with just his parents, a privilege of being the son of the Clan’s Magister. Theodore had little respect for Lochlan Brady, a person who had gotten incredibly lucky. But he had zero respect for Micheal’s father. Lochlan would have turned down the private room, but the other clan members had insisted. Lochlan had then chosen the smallest room. The Turners had not been offered a private class room to use as their quarters, but Ed had taken and he’d chosen one of the bigger ones. Ed used his position as Clan Magister to get extra food, clothing and whatever else he wanted. Theodore would admit that the man was good at his job. The Clan was growing and from all appearances doing pretty well considering what they had and what was available. Everyone knew that Lochlan wasn’t the one behind the Clan’s growth. It was Ed. Lochlan was the power, Ed was the brains. But that didn’t mean Ed deserved more.

Theodore was no fool. He knew Lochlan’s strength. After the battle with the gaunts, everyone knew how much stronger Lochlan was than anyone else.

For now. Maybe Roger would eventually catch up and surpass. That was Theodores, and the Voice’s, hope. Even if he didn’t, Roger was going to be their strength. They’d just have to find some other way to compensate for the Level and power difference between Roger and Lochlan.

When the time came. It was still a long ways off. Theodore had a whole Clan to convert to the Hive. It was going to be a long process.

“I’m tired. I’m going upstairs to clean up,” Roger grumbled.

Malcolm and Eric had already gone upstairs to the room. They hadn’t said anything, which was normal. The two didn’t spend much time with Roger, Mike and Theodore outside of dungeons, the spawn field and any other fighting. Theodore was having a hard time converting them. They were fighting it, even if they didn’t realize it. Eric was weakening but Malcolm was not.

It could have been an aspect of his Healer Class. It was only Common, but it was a healing Class. Mind invasion could be considered an ailment or debuff, which the Class most likely had innate Resistance to. Malcolm didn’t have much free time. As one of the few Healers in the Clan, he was called on to spend time in the infirmary on the school’s first floor. Eric spent a lot of time with the other Archers, practicing and just talking. Theodore was afraid that the two would quickly join another team if given the chance.

He thought back to the encounter with Lochlan earlier after they had left the Dungeon. The Clanchief had been angry. Theodore could understand why. They had violated his orders. It had been Theodore’s idea. One he had mentioned to Roger, guiding the man to voice it and make the decision for the group. It wouldn’t do for anyone to suspect Theodore of really being in charge. They had to think Roger was the leader, the one making all decisions. The Voice had told Theodore that they all needed to get stronger. With Lochlan and most of the others gone, this had been a good opportunity to get into the Dungeon and try for more Levels.

It had worked. They hadn’t Leveled, there was diminishing experience returns every time they ran the same Dungeon, but had gotten closer. Every little bit helped them Advance.

Then Lochlan had returned right at the wrong time. If they had managed to avoid being seen, the Clanchief never would have known. But he had seen and they had gotten punished.

The punishment made the extra trip not worth it.

But Theodore wasn’t upset. It was what it was. Sometimes plans hit snags. He had let Roger rant because it was what Roger was expected to do. More and more there was less of Roger and more of Theodore. He was able to spend more time with Roger and in Roger’s mind. Others, he wasn’t as lucky, which was what made the process so long. He’d just started to get a foothold into Micheal Turner’s mind.

And the teen was trickier. His parents were around and mindful of his actions. There were others in the Clanhold that knew Micheal pre-Connection. They would start to notice if anything changed with the boy’s personality. With Roger, no one knew him except those that had come to the Clan with him. Like Roger, Jim Caldwell was as much Theodore as he was Jim. The Voice was talking to the two, not whispering.

Randy Sager, the other that had been with them, spent no time with them anymore. He’d reluctantly joined the party for the battle with the gaunts but had not stayed after. There was no connection to the Hive with him. He knew Roger, but not well. Even when they had traveled together, Randy had not fully meshed with the others. He’d been standoffish. It had been obvious he hadn’t liked Roger, but there had been strength in numbers so Randy had stayed with them. First chance to ditch them and he did.

That was fine with Theodore. Randy was growing strong but there would be others. Randy would get die with all the others, Lochlan included, when it was time for the Hive to rise.

Theodore stood by himself off to the side off the lobby, halfway between the stairs and the double door entrance to the smaller waiting area outside of the cafeteria and gymnasium areas. The gym was turned into a larger dorm and storage area, the cafeteria keeping its original use.

He wasn’t sure what to do. These were the times he hated. The Voice had no suggestions for him. It never told him what to do, just gave ideas, that was how he knew he was a partner. He had no task or assignments. Not at the moment. He was lost with no direction.

Even before the Connection, Theodore had not been good without direction. He needed tasks, needed to be given something to do in order to focus on it. Since the Connection, the Voice had been there to help guide him. It was the moments of downtime, when he wasn’t fighting for his life or trying to Advance, not having chores to do around the Clanhold, those were the moments when Theodore disconnected.

That was how his therapist had described it before the Connection. Disconnecting. Momentarily, or for a couple of minutes, losing connection with the world around him as his mind tried to figure out what to do. It was like that now. Go upstairs and listen to more of Roger’s ranting? Go into the cafeteria and try to get something to eat?

Shifting as he figured out what to do, Theodore saw Lochlan Brady entering. The Voice spoke up, saying he needed to be moving. Don’t let Lochlan see him standing there like he had been. The man was already suspicious of Theodore, it was one of the reasons he had stood with the guards and protected the doors. It made him a hero in the eyes of the Clan, giving him some protection from Lochlan. The man couldn’t just exile Theodore from the Clan now.

He headed for the cafeteria. Going upstairs wouldn’t help his goals. He knew he needed to be more social to recruit for the Hive. He needed to be visible, to develop relationships. Even if the people he became friends with, friends was such a weird concept for Theodore, he still needed them to help his overall standing. He couldn’t afford to be the creepy, weird guy. He had to be a hero.

The cafeteria was pretty empty. Theodore didn’t know what time it was. Late afternoon? Early evening? Not quite time for the dinner rush but there were always people eating. Some just used it as a place to gather to be around others. Isolation, depression and lonliness were heightened thanks to the Connected System. Not everyone wanted to Advance and if they didn’t, there wasn’t much use for them.

It was those feelings that the Voice grabbed onto.

Theodore smiled, catching sight of a small group at one of the tables. He recognized one of the men. There were two other men and a woman. All four were leaning into the table, heads close together, talking. Simu Chang, the one he recognized, was doing most of it, the others seeming to listen and asking questions.

“Can I join you,” Theodore asked.

All the heads snapped up at him, only Simu smiling.

“Yes please,” he said, motioning to the open spot next to him.

Theodore took it, studying the other people. The woman was older, hair mostly gray. She looked fit, but she was now Adapted so that was to be expected. Bright blue eyes stared at Theodore with a little fear. She was matronly, Theodore decided. Kind of plain, not that he cared about such things. The two men were very different. One was younger, the other older. The older seemed to sit closer to the woman. A married couple? The younger didn’t look like them so was not related. He looked to be in his middle twenties, maybe late twenties. A scrawny guy, even after being Adapted. Theodore wasn’t big himself, but he was bigger than the other guy.

“Theodore Kincaid,” Simu said. He pointed at the older man first. “John Allen, his wife Lisa and that’s Terry Faria.”

The other three didn’t look thrilled with Theodore’s presence.

“Aren’t you one of those Adventurers,” John asked. It was almost accusatory. There was a bitter tone to his voice.

Regret at not being able to be one? Upset that the adventurers, like Theodore, seemed to get preferential treatment? Theodore would need to figure it out, or more accurately the Voice would. That would be how it would start its manipulation of the man.

Theodore, really the Voice, had already decided to have these three join the Hive. There was a reason they had been talking quietly with Simu, who was not a very social person.

“I guess so,” Theodore answered with a shrug. “I have a combat Class and have been running the Dungeons.”

“What’s that like,” Terry asked. He didn’t sound bitter like John, but more curious.

“Dangerous,” Theodore answered, being truthful for once. “It’s scary and every time I fear for my life.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“What else can I do,” Theodore answered, putting some exasperation and fear into his tone just as the Voice suggested. “My Class isn’t suited for Guard work and the Higher Levels,” he said the last with a sneer. “They wouldn’t let me just do grunt work. It’s run the Dungeons or….”

Theodore left it hanging, letting the others imagine what the consequence would be. Truthfully, and they probably knew it, Lochlan wouldn’t force anyone to do anything life threatening if they didn’t want to. Theodore could do grunt work if he wanted, but the Voice expected more from him. The Voice could tell that these three were like Simu. They were bitter, angry and resentful about what the Connected System had done to them. About how people like Lochlan were now in charge because of their strength.

Power had always been the deciding factor about who was in charge or not. Some places, like Russia, it was more obvious, but even in the United States it was the powerful that ran things. People all knew it, but they pretended it didn’t happen. With the coming of the Connection, it was obvious and blatant that power mattered more than anything. People couldn’t pretend anymore and those that were weak by the Connection’s standards were becoming bitter.

Those were the ones the Voice wanted. Like the three sitting across the table from him.

‘You’re forced to do it,” Lisa asked, shocked.

Theodore just shrugged while looking around the cafeteria as if making sure no one was listening to them. Lisa gasped, taking his action as an acknowledgement. Just like he had hoped. The Voice knew so much about manipulating people.

“It’s like I was telling you,” Simu said, doing exactly what Theodore had hoped. “The powerful control everything. If we don’t do as we’re told, they will throw us out. If we are not the right Class, they have no use for us and just use us as labor.”

Which was true but only from a skewed perspective and it was a perspective that Theodore was working hard to keep skewed. It was a warped truth. At this point, the Clan and any survivors, needed everyone contributing. If the person couldn’t hunt, craft, guard or run Dungeons then they needed to do the physical labor of farming, lumberjacking, carrying everything, building. Doing the grunt work.

Simu had been a banker. He hadn’t done physical labor but was now being forced to. And he hated it. He didn’t hate Lochlan Brady, not deep down, he understood the real truth, but he was resentful at all he’d been and all he’d worked for being torn away in an instant. There was no need for a banker and Simu wasn’t good at anything else. All he could do was provide muscle to carry logs, or anything the Clan needed.

And the way the System worked with Classes, doing that labor almost guaranteed him a Class built around that work. When he finally, if he finally, reached Level Five he’d get some kind of physical Class. There were no pure laborer Classes, but there were ones geared for the less intricate aspects of Crafting. Simu was most likely to get one of those.

Further fueling his resentment.

Theodore didn’t know the story of the other three but it was most likely similar. There were a lot of people in the Clan that were in the same situation. Some of them were okay with it but some were not. Those were the ones that Theodore sought out.

He was happy that these three had basically come to him.