Crafter's Passion Page 22

  As he looked over his work he decided to try strapping his buoyant treasure chests to the craft's sides. Even with the cargo they held, they could help the thing to float and be more stable. The shape looked kind of cool, too. A system message said, [You have discovered the concept of a catamaran or trimaran hull.]

  "Oh, this is a real design?" he said, and redoubled his construction effort.

  He couldn't do much to maintain the sail and rigging, but they would last him to Tourney Isle. As for his character, he had an icon warning him he had a hunger penalty to his stats now. Sort of an encouragement to log out, like major wounds, or to buy food.

  He used paddling and magic to continue to the south, avoiding anything suspicious that might pull him into another adventure tonight. That made the trip boring after a while. He said, "Ludo, I'm surprised you let her use my account."

  Text popped up saying, [She obviously had permission. We had a good chat, and she got to play with the magic system.]

  "You're giving her quests, huh?"

  [She asked me not to mess with her, for now. She's trying to sort some things out in her life that I can't necessarily help with.]

  "Like what?"

  [It's not for me to say.]

  "Can't you drop her into just the right scenario to learn whatever she needs to?"

  [Outside of a VR session, she'd need to get a Talisman or a good enough gaming computer and then make an official account, not just the throwaway she's used.]

  Stan sailed on. "But she's a player of your game now, so why does it matter whether she has a real account?"

  The AI laughed and spoke aloud from nowhere. "Consider it a safety valve. If someone shouts at me that I'm the devil and they never want to hear from me again, they can just, you know, stop playing. I actually have a few people paying me so they can call me up and rant at me occasionally, because they found out I wouldn't listen if they weren't players."

  "Loony fundamentalists?"

  "You'd be surprised. Anyway, if Mina became a regular player, that'd mean opening up Thousand Tales to other people at your Community besides you and Eddie, which is the "foot in the door" problem Hal is afraid of."

  "And you have feet in a lot of doors, huh?"

  "Yes."

  Stan kept sailing until a roughly pentagonal island rose up on the horizon, with faint daylight visible in the east. It occurred to him that the horizon must be a special effect if the world was basically flat. Seagulls wheeled overhead.

  A big shadow swooped down, faintly highlighted by moonlight or more likely, his Inspect skill. Stan whipped out his hammer and hatchet and stood up just in time to viciously whack the hawk-man who was coming at him talons-first. The impact sent both of them tumbling into the water. Stan mashed buttons to get to the surface and flail to get loose.

  "Your money or your life!" said the bird, trying to snag a spear he'd dropped in the water.

  Stan kicked the spear away from the robber's taloned hands until it sank. "You're supposed to say that first, idiot." He swam toward his raft but the thief gashed him along the shoulder with his talons. Swimming wasn't too easy with a tool in each hand. Stan slashed to keep the bird at bay with his hatchet, then put both weapons away and gave thanks to himself for learning to make pockets. He kicked his way over to the raft and was atop it before the enemy could catch him.

  "Was that supposed to be an ambush?" Stan said.

  The hawk sputtered and swam toward the raft. "Fine, you win! Let me get back to the island."

  "I don't know; what's it worth to you? I killed a couple of players before, but this one was my first fair fight."

  "You get no loot from killing me, and I'll come after you if you do."

  Stan said, "I didn't hear an 'if I don't kill you'. Hey, is that a shark in the distance?"

  "Fine! I promise I won't bother you for at least a week."

  Stan wondered what stopped the guy from just letting himself sink and respawn. He hadn't gotten a good look at the guy's armor but it didn't look impressive. "You must have something valuable on you."

  "Just my armored vest."

  Stan blinked at that concept. "Oh, how did you get one? I've made a few shirts but haven't tried combining clothes and armor. Is that part of the Smithing skill or Tailoring, or what?"

  The bird treaded water. "Are we really having this discussion?"

  "Sure. Get up here and tell me what you know about making more advanced protective gear while we make landfall."

  Stan kept a wary eye on him as he rowed. The robber said, "I didn't make this outfit, but a friend did. It's just cotton combined with some leather and alchemical stuff. The protective value isn't great but it's light enough not to penalize my flying."

  "I thought you needed a feat to combine weapons and armor," Stan said.

  "I guess, but not armor and clothing. Who wants full plate armor while they're sailing, anyway?" The bird-man shrugged.

  "You went to the trouble of getting a bird-man transformation, and you're picking on random travelers instead of doing some epic quest?"

  "You looked like you had good stuff."

  "Mostly cheap trade items."

  The hawk-man talked about roaming the sea as a flying pirate, fighting NPCs but preying on the occasional real player too. He mentioned that he had limited flight power, which told Stan he'd have to be at his most wary when near coastal mountains a thief could jump off of. It sounded like this area had some more advanced players on it, which meant more to learn.

  "And here we are," Stan said at last. He hopped off of the raft and into the shallows. A system notice announced that he'd discovered Tourney Isle. Wooden piers extended from the rocky shore. A fancy three-masted ship lay at anchor, next to a sleek boat with a double hull like the design Stan had done with his outboard treasure chests. Stan paused to admire what the other builders had done.

  He asked the robber, "Where's an inn? Or a storage place?"

  "Your best bet is the Peabody Inn. It's run by some of the town NPCs."

  Stan scanned the bird-man and saw he was labeled "Tier-III", ie. either a real player or equivalent to one. Stan tried not to yawn or let down his guard in case the guy was still trouble.

  The hawk said, "Uh, thanks for letting me go." He walked ashore and raised one hand dramatically, making the spear he'd lost reappear. "Good. Don't worry; I'm not going to fight you." Instead he shook out his wet wings and flew away inland.

  "Weird," said Stan.

  A notice said, [As you've just seen, having a frequently used item qualifies you to make it a key item, protected against loss if you're killed. You now qualify for one, but which will it be, the hatchet or the hammer?] A tutorial window popped up to explain how to summon an item into existence from nowhere, and to banish it again. [You can use this trick with armor too, if you can keep something suitable for long enough.]

  "Hammer, please." Not every choice had to be tough; he'd been thinking of replacing the axe with a steel one. He did the dramatic hand gesture and his hammer flashed out of sight with a mighty lens flare effect. It reappeared on command. He felt like a superhero.

  He also felt ready to fall asleep. He wasn't sure he could trust people (one feathered person in particular) not to swipe all his stuff the moment he explored, and even he couldn't haul two whole treasure chests and a raft. It was just before dawn in the Isles and not many people were about.

  A woman waved from a waterfront snack shop. She had fuzzy grey ears high on her head. "Welcome! Are you having trouble?"

  Stan explained his problem. The lady paused, then said, "I have a cart you can borrow if you'll buy something."

  "Sure; wait." Stan returned to his raft to pull off the rope and remove the sail, leaving behind the near-useless damaged wood. The shopkeeper brought a wooden cart from behind her market stall, which let Stan see she also had a long ringed tail swishing behind her. "Going for some kind of transformation?"

  "You're asking about transformation? This is just how I am."

&nb
sp; Stan pinged her. [Tier-II.] She was an NPC, then. That explained why she'd be running a store when hardly anyone was around; she was basically a prop. Even so, there was no sense in being rude. He let her help load his stuff onto the cart, then browsed her inventory of stat-boosting items. He went with buying a pecan pie, which got him thinking about making one in the real world. "Do you have a recipe for that?"

  "For a few coins, yes."

  "No, thanks." He'd look one up later. For now it was more important to rest and then meet the real AI living here. "Can you tell me about Davis?"

  The shopkeeper assumed a standard hands-on-counter pose and recited, "Sir Davis is the first resident of Tourney Isle. He's an accomplished actor and a gentle-bunny. It's traditional for visitors to make him a standard offering of three carrots. Which I sell."

  "I'm a little short on coins. I'll try to sell stuff in the morning and get back to you." He hefted the pie he'd bought, and it shined with a dramatic lens flare effect. Stan blinked, then held up a burlap sack from his inventory. It, too, shined gloriously. "Did I get some kind of enchantment on me?"

  "Enchantment?" said the shopkeeper. "You can find enchanters at the market during the day."

  "Show me one of those muffins, please."

  She did, and it gleamed dramatically. "Would you like to buy one?"

  Stan gestured for his interface. "Ludo, something screwy is going on. Uh, a system error."

  [What is it?]

  "You don't notice all the shiny effects? Look." He pulled a dirt-covered turnip off of the shopkeeper's display and held it up. It shined like a magic sword.

  The interface buzzed. [Checking.] A lens flare decorated the text window, and another the shopkeeper's stall. Stan began to wonder if Thousand Tales was crashing. Then the text updated: [There's a problem with some special-effects AIs. Please remain calm.]

  "Ocean-of-Tears, is that you?" In the background, someone had climbed up on the deck of the big ship and was generating shiny effects as he danced and posed.

  [We apologize for the inconvenience. This malfunction is unprofessional and it will be dealt with.]

  "Inconvenient? See that guy over there; he's enjoying it!"

  The text went away. Stan shook his head and began hauling his equipment inland. The ground was unpaved and stony, and even the wooden cart was getting the lens flares now. He moved through a fantasy island turned ridiculous, where more adventurers were waking up or logging on to see what was happening. Somewhere outside the game there were probably excited social media comments. Stan came to a stately inn with gratuitous white columns and a lot of vines, where shiny ducks splashed in a shiny pond. In-game it was now dawn, and the sun had, like, four special effects on it at once. Clouds spun and drifted across the heavens.

  "What's going on?" asked a dark lord in bleak armor, which of course also shined. A pair of monks got out of a player-made hut to look around.

  Stan said, "A minor special effects error, supposedly. Check out my treasure." He held up a suddenly impressive copper coin.

  The bird-man robber glided into view and landed on a hut. "Is everything doing this?" He drew his spear. "Apparently."

  "What do we do?" said the dark lord.

  Stan thought of the morose AI who was Ludo's manager of this game realm. "You know what the Isles currently need? A party. We've got the flashy lights."

  "Music, then!" said someone dressed as a bard. He whipped out a guitar and began to play the latest catchy song. A parade broke out along the winding streets of the southern isle, with everyone swinging weapons and whatever else came to hand to watch the flashes. A wizard sent fancy spells upward just to see her mighty lightning and fire blasts turn into spinning, gleaming fireworks.

  "Nah, nah," said Stan after a little while of hearing the pop songs. "We need a fancier song. Like, a hymn."

  "Which one?" said the bard, pausing too.

  Stan froze. He had never learned any. The morning sun was rising in an endless world and everyone was coming together to play and to make everything shine. He said, "Did you know that the guardian AI of the Isles is sad?"

  The robber said, "Huh? How can it be?"

  "She's seen some things." He grinned. "I hope she sees this, too. Hey, somebody played a cool old song for me once; do you know one called 'Wheel In the Sky'?"

  The bard laughed and brandished his guitar at the head of the parade. Lights streamed along it with every movement he made, and the chords kicked into electric guitar riffs.

  "Sent a letter on a long summer day. Made of silver, not of clay..."

  Before long they were all singing it and playing shiny air guitar. The island's NPCs peeked out of their shops and houses, then began to follow. Stan looked up from his screen and he wanted to go to Eddie and Mina, to wake them up and say "come and see". But they were asleep, and they hadn't played enough to appreciate the silly malfunction.

  The dance party petered out and people went their separate ways. Stan waved goodbye and headed back to the hotel, but glanced at the ocean world's sky before going in. "Don't worry about the 'inconvenience'," he said. "It was fun."

  Behind the counter stood a clerk who looked almost identical to the shopkeeper he'd met, wearing a cute bow tie and a smile. She showed no sign of anything strange having just happened. Oh, well. For most of his remaining coins, he got a hotel room good until his next login. The bed looked comfortable and huge, and a quick inspection told him it'd provide a "Well-Rested" bonus. For him as a mere human, that is. If he were an uploader, he could really enjoy it. He made sure his stuff was safe in the room, maneuvered his character over to the bed, and logged out.

  Back in reality, it was still late night. He stretched and looked at his simple cot. Any uploaded player could have not just a kingly bed, but a palace and servants fanning him and feeding him grapes. He scoffed at that image; he didn't even like grapes. Come to think of it, why would he want a palace? There was a lot to be jealous of, about the immortals' lives, but even unlimited food and sex and piles of gold probably got old quickly. Why else would people like Oroblanco bother with the game rules instead of hopping into one of those little bubble worlds forever?

  He went to sleep and dreamed of designing his own personal heaven. It wasn't too different from what he was already doing in the Isles.

  * * *

  In his daytime life, he worked the fields and repaired the Community's tools in the machine shop. Spare parts were in short supply nationwide, said the rumors from other Communities, though Mina posted polite rebuttals showing that production was going up. Besides, they didn't need tractors when there was so much labor available.

  Stan could see some wisdom in the Communities' labor-intensive farming. It wouldn't be good to organize the world so that machines did all the work, whether they were ordinary tractors and trucks or miraculously non-polluting friendly robots. The game that managers like Hal were playing involved keeping people not just fed, but busy enough to feel useful.

  He had an unexpected afternoon free, due to Hal rearranging the schedule on the east-side greenhouses. Stan got an idea. He made plans to visit Mexicali for that electronics store. He started to call up Ms. Parker to ask for a ride, then stopped. He'd thought to use her as a tool. For that matter, he'd been looking at the trip to visit Davis the AI as just another goalpost to touch, a ticket to punch to get his prize. Who was Davis, anyway?

  He buzzed Baron Hal. "Requesting permission to take a scooter across the border. It's a long trip but I'll make sure to recharge the battery."

  Hal's voice said, "Ugh. Going to your game place again?"

  "Actually, no. Shopping. Want anything?"

  Hal sounded a little more pleased. "A shipment didn't come in. Can you grab six light-switch panels and the screws for them?" He named a few other odds and ends. "And... well, you know. A case of Tecate, if you can."

  Stan laughed. "Fine."

  He now had a legitimate errand to help boost his SCS. He'd have done the VR center but money was tight. Instea
d he drove to the electronics store and parked the borrowed scooter under the eye of its outdoor cameras, with a lock.

  The shop had light switches and some other things Hal needed. Stan grabbed a few items for his own use, then went over to the store's demo Talisman units and said hello to Ludo. "These are what I need, right? Sorry I'm not visiting your Fun Zone this trip."

  Ludo popped up and examined his armload of wire and other parts. "Looks good. And you don't need to visit, especially not when you're saving money for other things."

  "Thanks. Say, what else can you tell me about Davis?"

  "He wouldn't like me gossiping. How about you do some research, before you cross the border again?"

  Stan signed off. Rather than spend more money at the cafe to use their wireless network, he rode out to the playground and got online using his Slab.

  The search results were different, seen from here. In America he'd seen something about Davis being in a cartoon, but it was blocked on the video channels. Stan had shrugged and gotten distracted. Here, there was no censorship on this particular topic. Stan sat next to his scooter, ignoring the kids at play, and watched the first episode of a show called Oops! Universe Repair Crew. Then the second and third.

  There was a genie in training who'd made friends in magic high school. She was now going with them to different worlds that were on the verge of falling apart due to some kind of terrible AI. The first episode was "Rossum's Unbearable Remix", in which humanity was living in a fake paradise while a population of robot musicians forced them to listen to the same generic feel-good pop song forever. Then came "A Wrinkle In Pants" where the heroes got everyone to tear off their slacks for justice against SIT, the Casual Oppressor. By the third episode he was laughing out loud, as a rabbit in shining armor helped the genie defeat the agents of a paranoid mega-city. The agents' motto and the episode title was "Friend Computer Is Watching Your Butt," always spoken like a holy mantra.