Crafter's Passion Page 17

  A contact icon flashed in the corner of the screen. It was Dominic, saying, [You're back! Want to meet up?]

  Stan responded, "Sure. I'm on Central, heading for the tavern."

  [It'll take me a while to get there. Man, you're still doing the most basic milk-run stuff?]

  "I've spent too many hours daydreaming lately about how to break out of that. Watch this." Okay, Dominic wasn't around to see, but someone was.

  Stan had two dead lizards and a backpack that held more than it should. He stuffed one critter awkwardly into the pack and dragged the other one along, heading for the Crown & Tail. Along the way, a third lizard jumped him. Stan dropped everything, whipped out his hammer again, and killed the beast in two quick rounds. He had two major wounds now, and his pair of minor wounds wouldn't fade until he was clearly out of trouble, but he was starting to get to the real plan.

  He greeted the startled chef at the tavern by saying, "Here: lizards! Keep the meat but give me the hides, okay?"

  The cook today was a woman who looked badly out of place, in a patchwork of wood and leather armor and toting a war axe on her back. "Uh... okay?"

  Stan ran off to fetch the third dead lizard and towed that back too. He was in luck. While he waited on the skinning he cast his metal creation spell a few more times. So now he had a little extra copper plus raw hides. Next, the market! Up on the hill he found a cloth merchant and said, "I want that." He was pointing to the burlap tablecloth that held his actual wares.

  The merchant laughed at him. "That's not going to give you any stat bonuses."

  "I don't care; I just want a sack. Want some fresh hides?"

  "Heh, sure. I'll even do it up as a proper bag with a drawstring."

  A bit of crafting later (while Stan made more copper) and Stan had a bag to go with the backpack, both holding 50% more than normal thanks to his Merchant ability. He'd brought most of the lumber uphill with him, so he sold that too for next to nothing. He could always get more. He spent his profit on a single ingot of tin. Back downhill, next!

  In the workshop he paid his admission fee, headed for the furnace, and skidded to a stop. A robed mage with a mask was staring at him and waving. Stan scanned him:

  [Dominic

  PUBLIC INFO

  Class: Mage

  Faction Flag: None

  Note: "Initiate of the Vengeful Thorn Style!"]

  From behind his blank mask Dominic said, "Hi. I've been powering up while you were gone!"

  "Cool. What did you have to do to get a mage label?"

  "Learned to do this kind of thing." Dominic raised one hand and an arrow flew up from his belt, shining in an eerie red glow. "If I keep practicing I'll be able to do a whole cloud of these at once." He flicked his hand and the arrow returned.

  "And the mask?"

  "More for style than stats. What about you? It doesn't look like you've changed much."

  "Heh, well, I've been busy." He put his metal into the furnace and stoked it with coal; he hadn't found out yet who was supplying that and probably owed them. "Mind doing the bellows for a bit? I want a good quality rating for this; I'm making a bronze hatchet."

  "Sure." The masked wizard hopped onto the furnace's set of floor-mounted bellows and started doing the dancing-on-arrows puzzle to bring the heat. Stan crafted a mold just like he'd drawn repeatedly with a 3D modeling program on his Slab. It was a pair of tight-packed boxes of sand mated together, with a hole shaped like an axe head, with a peg through that where there should be a hole through the finished product. It took some convoluted thinking to prepare, even though real smiths had done the same thing millennia ago. Dominic added, "That doesn't look like enough metal."

  "You're thinking mighty barbarian axe. I'm thinking wood-cutting hatchet."

  Slowly his creation took shape. Smoke bubbled up from the mold as from a magic ritual, making the air around him ripple with heat. He avoided doing the abstract puzzle that some smiths did, in favor of seeing what he could really make with his own design. When he cracked the mold open like last year's Winter Holiday presents at the Community, the new hatchet head gleamed and there was even a lens flare graphics effect on it for a moment. Stan had a handle ready by then, and he attached it and used magic to grow a bit of the wood into place and hold it.

  [Crafting result: Bronze Hatchet. "Conceived in the back of a car."]

  Stan brandished the new tool. Dominic applauded and a happy tune played.

  Ms. Parker looked up from her reading. "Beat a boss?"

  "Forged something, ma'am. I mean casted."

  [Special Techniques: You earned another spell element for your recent magic use, but that's been swapped out automatically for another skill talent! Make a selection.

  -Gadget Inspector (from Inspect): Inspecting tools gives you a chance to see upgrade opportunities!

  -Utility Belt (from Merchant or Smithing): Treat a set of tools as one item for purposes of weight and item protection!

  -Ace Custom (from Smithing): Items you make yourself are more effective in your hands!]

  Stan ogled the choices. "Are these talent menus all meant to be tough decisions?"

  Dominic said, "Those? Yes. It's based on what you've been doing, with some extra suggestions to tempt you to try something different. If you don't like them you can refuse and check later for different options."

  The best way to advance was to have something more valuable to sell. "I'd like either of the others, but for now let's do Gadget Inspector." An upgrade jingle played. He asked Dominic, "What's that 'item protection' thing?"

  "If you keep using the same items, they can become permanently linked to you so they don't get dropped if you die."

  Ah right; he'd read about that feature. So instead of endlessly climbing the ladder from leather armor to chain to plate to super holy spiky crystal, players had an incentive to get some decent equipment and stick with it. The power to upgrade stuff was going to be pretty popular.

  That is, assuming he ever got to play again.

  "How are you on time?" Parker asked.

  Stan stretched and yawned. "I need to get back soon, yeah." He tried a new command button that appeared when he inspected the new hatchet, and saw a branching diagram with upgrade recipes like "Custom Oak Handle: Quick. +10% speed." Nothing amazing, and most of the ideas looked more decorative than like realistic engineering analysis, but what hero wouldn't want their gear to have plus a few percent to this or that stat? While he was at it he inspected his hammer, saw that its condition had degraded a bit, and did a minor repair that cost him only wood.

  Parker coughed. Stan blushed. "Sorry, yeah. Dominic, I've got to go, but thanks. Will try to get online whenever I can. Dealing with some personal problems."

  He shut off the Talisman and left the car. "Thanks again, ma'am! That was fun." He took the brownies along, too.

  She said, "Good night. See if you can knock some sense into your feudal lord, there. Talk with me if you get into trouble."

  * * *

  Though he'd had his gaming fix, he'd also now been through three weeks of running himself ragged. One afternoon Stan twitched feebly atop his bed, sleep-deprived and bored out of his skull. He hadn't gotten to make anything, not in the real world. But his Slab told him he was doing an incredible job, on track for an A+ or maybe even the exalted (and inexplicable) S rank above that. His Slab beeped for the umpteenth time today. Stan rolled over and grabbed the thing to see what it wanted from him now. Then he sat up, because it was Hal who demanded his attention.

  Stan got cleaned up as well as he could, using up precious water and wearing his best clothes. He presented himself at Hal's door like a soldier ready for inspection.

  Baron Hal beckoned him in and had him shut the door. "What's this all about? Your score shot up, but it's hollow."

  Stan grinned fiercely. "I'm a model citizen now, sir."

  "I've seen you not paying attention to events, or sneaking out early, or showing up for an extra cooking shift and then leaving."
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  "Every one of those was within the rules, sir."

  Hal said, "Really? Letting down your fellow residents by not doing your share of the breakfast making, for instance?"

  "I did my part, sir. If you'll review the rules, you'll see that a 'substantial contribution' is what's demanded of me. And I really did help; sometimes I even got stuff set up early in the morning or came back late to wash dishes. Sir." Mostly when Mina was on duty.

  "You're doing this to spite me."

  "No, sir!" Stan lied.

  "In any case you won't get your one-seventh share from me, not with your attitude."

  Stan said, "I've read the regulations, sir. I've improved, I've shown initiative, I've genuinely helped others improve their own scores. If you can find a valid reason to fault me, one that's worth going through a formal dispute about, then go ahead."

  The director rested his head on his hands. "Teenagers. This kind of stunt would never be allowed in the military, you know. Let me try a different tack. How would you like to go to Washington for a special tour program? See the city, hobnob with politicians, see the new statue of the president, do some kind of mock legislation event with kids from other states?"

  Stan blinked, snapping out of smartass mode. "That's not up my alley. Mina might like it."

  Hal brightened. "Now we're getting somewhere. I got word today that we're sending our highest-scoring resident on this gig, chosen as of next week. And suddenly, that's you."

  "You want me to turn it down?"

  "Well, no. You're automatically opted in for having the highest SCS, since you're such a model citizen lately. But again, Mina's a better candidate."

  "So...?"

  "Do I have to spell it out?" said Hal. "Take a dive. Relax. You've made your point that you can get a high score if you want."

  "My point, sir? I still don't have travel privileges. I can't even choose my work schedule."

  Hal waved that off. "I can unlock those features for you as of tomorrow. Just make sure you don't work quite so hard as Mina."

  There was an opportunity here. Stan said, "I suppose I could get suddenly distracted by video games..."

  Hal swore, the first time Stan had ever heard him do that. "What is it with you and that game?"

  "What's with you and it?" Stan said, engaging his mouth before his brain.

  "Kid. You do not want to go down this road with me. I don't like the idea of an AI trying to sweet-talk its way into ruling the world."

  Stan thought, I could stick a knife in your heart by reminding you exactly why it's personal. Taunt you about how your sister woke up one day and decided the life you've chosen, the things you value most, weren't enough for her.

  Was that who Stan was, though? Hurting whoever got in his way, to unbalance them enough to get what he wanted? He wouldn't treat Mina that way, and Mina probably would hate it if Stan abused the insider knowledge she'd given him. Stan shut his eyes for a moment and took a breath. He said, "Straight answer: I'm getting a lot more out of Thousand Tales than I ever did out of SCS. Nothing personal. Not everybody learns in the same way, right?"

  "It's not just about learning," Hal said. He turned a little desk calendar around to face Stan and read the quote on it without looking. "The Social Credit System shouldn't be a simple carrot and stick; it's a way of life. We should learn to embrace it and have its principles inside us, serving as a guide and motivator rather than a simple letter or number."

  Stan said, "Your carrot and stick are inside us all. Look, you know exactly what I want besides my privileges. Give me my Talisman back and let me play it -- and the same for Eddie."

  Hal's lips twitched as though he were on the verge of snarling like an animal. "I smashed them. With a hammer."

  Jeez. Did Clementine just argue with you and run off, or did she kill your dog on the way out? Stan shook his head and said, "I earned both of those with my sweat and my time. I figure you owe me for what you took." Right away Stan saw the problem with that, crediting his Diplomacy skill. "No, strike that. I'm not planning to brag about this incident or make you admit anything. Call it a legit expense for replacing equipment that a Community member uses to help him do his job effectively."

  Hal sat there fuming. "Two game tablets. Standard off-the-shelf model, no accessories. Bill the Community since they're replacing equipment I broke."

  Stan nodded and started to back out of the office, but paused. "Sir? How come you care that Mina gets to go on this trip, anyway?"

  "Because I want what's best for you kids, even if you're too short-sighed to see that. Go have fun gloating; I'll approve your inevitable request to go shopping tomorrow. Just remember that that AI is less powerful than it seems."

  9. Lampbearer

  Stan brought Eddie and Mina along to Mexicali. Or more accurately, Ms. Parker brought them all in her car. "Since you're goofing off, I might as well have some fun in town while you're shopping," she explained. "Try not to get mugged."

  "Are you going to be all right yourself?" Stan asked. She was dropping them off at a warehouse-sized electronics store. All around them the roads were full of potholes and trash.

  Parker patted one hip, where there was a subtle bulge. "I can take care of myself if any thieving Mexicans try to jump me."

  Mina said, "That's racist." She lowered her voice. "And are you carrying a, a gun?"

  "You wound me, young lady -- but today no one else will. Now get going and I'll pick you up in two hours."

  Stan gave Parker a backward glance as she rode away. Maybe she knew what she was doing. There were no stupid or careless astronauts, and she'd come close. He said to Mina, "Best not to argue with her."

  Inside was a maze of aisles crammed with everything from exercise equipment to computer parts to bags of individual circuit pieces. Black camera domes looked down from the high ceiling and quadrotor drones buzzed around, watching the customers too. The many digital eyes watching him felt like a constant vague accusation, but at least the store's security system wasn't telling him what to do. "Over here," he said.

  Thousand Tales had its own display along one wall. Two demonstration units were propped up and chained in place, and a mother was letting her two young kids bang on them while hefting a toddler on her shoulder. Eddie made a face and fished out a bottle of hand sanitizer from his pockets.

  Stan looked at the shelf holding the Talisman units. The "standard model" now was the kind Parker owned, an update to the sort Stan and Eddie had used so far. Stan bounced a little back and forth as he ogled the different colors and accessories and even some t-shirts and plush griffins and collectible doodads. You could buy immortality from Ludo's corporation, or you could buy a keychain.

  Mina walked up to the mom and said in Spanish, "Excuse me, ma'am, but would it be all right to let my friend here use one of those?"

  She grunted and barked a command at her kids, who converged on one demo pad. Mina thanked her, then the kids. She walked over to the unoccupied pad and said, "Mina Summers here, visiting with two over-excited boys." She threw a grin back at Stan. Eddie was reading a spec sheet boasting about "blast processing" and other features.

  "So I see," said a voice from the pad. "Are Stan and Eddie with you too?"

  "Ha, yes."

  Stan joined her and looked into the beaked face of Ludo's current avatar, a griffin with shimmering blue feathers. Meanwhile, the other pad had shifted to a cartoon adventure that involved both kids at once. Stan looked back at the griffin and said, "Hello, sir."

  "Sir?" asked Mina.

  "Never mind. We're just shopping. I look forward to playing again. I can only bill the Community for a basic Talisman, but I've got some money of my own too." Being confined with nowhere to spend it for a month had helped. "Maybe I can get those sensor gloves."

  Ludo said, "Between you and me, they're not that useful. You have to prop the pad up on something to free your hands, and the camera can see them well enough without special sensors. And the tactile feedback is kind of lame since t
hey can't push on you. There's a custom rig that puts your hands in this cats'-cradle web with true feedback, but again, more trouble than it's worth."

  Mina laughed. "Shouldn't you be up-selling, oh corporate overlord?"

  "Not for customers who could do better things with the money. I am not our marketing department."

  Stan startled, recalling something. "Drones! Right. I was going to get some and then cart them out to the desert for your residents to play with."

  Eddie said, "You might be better off buying used, then."

  Mina looked around the store. "Maybe I can find you cheap ones in here. Or just look up the junk stores in Mexicali; we're free until evening."

  They were here by grudging permission of Baron Hal to do one specific thing, which struck Stan as very different than "free". Mina was even here on some make-work Community task, so that her wasting time here counted less against her SCS.

  Stan picked out a Talisman in royal blue, forgoing the silver model that looked meant for businessmen. Besides the controls being slightly different and there being two front cameras, the main difference listed on the box was that this new "Level 2" edition had more internal processing power. Stan shrugged at that. He asked Ludo, "Does it make much difference?"

  "For most users, no. But if you need to go offline it can run a personal game pretty well without me, especially if it can call home once in a while. Also it happens to be able to run a communications network for a small village."

  "So I hear," Eddie mused. "You're really trying to set up gaming infrastructure for obscure parts of the world that don't have toilets?"

  "I can build one more easily than the other. Also, many of the poor people you're pitying right now have resisted installing toilets for cultural reasons. If my game can change a culture, it can save lives."

  Mina's eyes narrowed. "So you admit you're trying to manipulate people."

  The griffin's ears perked up and its beak curled into a grin. "I prefer the term 'entertain'."

  * * *

  There was a sale on a brand of cheap quadrotor drones. After wandering around the shop and ogling the parts and tools and televisions, he decided it was better to grab two of the bots with his own money than to get a gimmicky peripheral for Thousand Tales. He held up the boxes to the Talisman pads' cameras (the mom and kids had finally left) and asked, "Can you use this model? I mean, you've got those much better ones of your own, so can I be useful with these at all?"