Crafter's Passion Read online

  Why was Ludo showing him this? The AI was supposed to be providing a game, not insulting him for playing it. He put the Talisman on his desk and flopped onto his bed, confused. There were plenty of games where he could "explore, hit bad thing, sometimes get reward". What had kept him playing Thousand Tales was the other stuff. He said, "You're wrong. That's boring because there aren't any interesting choices."

  The Talisman spoke aloud. "What's an interesting choice?"

  "Fight or sneak around, do the quest or not. I mean, what if I chuck that dagger into the ocean and never investigate? Is the same quest going to just pop up again with the names changed?"

  Ludo said, "I'll recycle it for another player. Getting back to the problem of caves being dark, that's normally how my game works. If you want a simplified experience that doesn't expect much of you, then that's what you'll get. I can quit bothering you about details like what I just showed you, and simply provide either the standard Endless Isles gameplay or a personal zone with even more lax rules. What do you want, Stan?"

  He was in no mood to rethink the game and what he wanted from it. He was on duty to prepare a group dinner, and then he needed to rest up for that handyman task in town tomorrow. The one Ludo had arranged. Or had he arranged it? Both.

  "I'll talk with you later," he said, and shut the machine off.

  4. Quests

  "You look haunted," Mina said, as they met to get started early on cooking dinner for the Community. "Is it that game again?"

  "It's the AI. He's, like, asking me if I want to play the regular way or let him mess with me."

  "He? It's just a machine."

  Stan got several heads of lettuce out of the industrial-sized fridge room for tonight's salad. "For me it shows up as a sort of cool anime guy. Asking strange questions, bending the game rules."

  Mina laughed. "And you got that cracked game pad at a mysterious junk shop?"

  "Thrifty's Emporium isn't that mysterious. And the usual clerk is a bored stoner, not an ancient Chinese dude."

  "Maybe the previous owner was murdered, and his ghost still lingers to curse the new owner!" She did a spooky gesture. "Oooo. Did the shop vanish when you left?"

  Stan leaned against the counter and chuckled. "I guess the processor could be a little off, but I doubt that's it. It's like... The game's system is like our SCS rules, but more complicated and more freeform at the same time. You can do what you want. I thought it would bend to whatever I tried to make it do, but there are... consequences and restrictions. Like the caves not automatically being lit if you don't have a torch, and not being able to carry a ton of stuff at once. It doesn't just hand you a sword and throw monsters at you."

  There was more he wanted to say. Mina was wrong to want to race off to college and get a fancy job and spend her life worrying. So was Eddie. They shouldn't be planning to leave him behind like there was something wrong with wanting to have an easy life. But he was just talking about the game; it'd be weird to bring up career plans again, when they were having a relaxing evening together.

  Stan kept his mouth shut about that as they cooked. They focused on work and Mina's soccer games and the latest crazy stuff the politicians were doing in DC and over in the Free States. There were plenty of ways to avoid the important subjects.

  * * *

  In the morning he borrowed a scooter, eventually got it running, and rode into town to meet Ms. Parker. Banners on the streetlights advertised the town's most exciting annual event, the upcoming Carrot Festival.

  Along the way his Slab buzzed. He stopped to check it for anything important, but the notice was just a high-priority reminder about his work schedule not having changed. He rolled his eyes, then noticed an e-mail from "Quests" at Thousand Tales' domain. It said, [Level 1 quest offered: Special Delivery. Deliver a pizza to Ms. Parker. Reward: Extra character slot.]

  Weird. So this was one of the out-of-game quests? It wouldn't be too hard. He might as well use it to buy favor with the old lady. Stan shrugged and made a detour to a pizza shop that took scrip.

  Parker lived in one of the beige public apartment buildings for seniors, not too different from the Community's dorm blocks. She met him at the door and looked him over skeptically. "I didn't agree to buy food from you."

  Stan said, "No charge. Special delivery. Can I come in?"

  "Ludo vouches for you, so fine."

  The apartment had an oppressive number of knickknacks. Just on the way past the staircase to the tiny kitchen and dining room, he saw little ceramic birds, landscape paintings of deserts and mountains, photos of soldiers, and a trifold flag. Parker had him set the pizza down, then showed him the small pile of lumber and tools filling the laundry room. "The top half of the stairs is ruined," she explained, pointing to some dangerously cracked boards. "There was trouble with some idiot movers and a desk. I want to tear those up and put new wood on. Think you can handle that?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Treating the problem like a puzzle, he looked over what he had, then started prying out nails from the top of the stairs down. With the boards gone he had a view into a closet full of snorkels and hoses and gas cylinders.

  "That's my Henry's diving things," Parker said, "and mine. Don't know why I keep them around."

  Stan grabbed a plank and realized he needed a measuring tape, not some in-game automatic measurement device. He stepped outside to the blazing sun to crouch at the improvised sawhorse and cut the board to the right length; this one was a few inches off. Out of boredom he asked, "You mean scuba diving?"

  "Of course. Did it off the coast and swam in the kelp forest with otters, and before that off Cape Canaveral. Watch your thumb!"

  Stan avoided sawing into it. That was something the game didn't model! "Thanks." The other boards were the right length, so he went back inside to start hammering them into place. "I've only been to the beach once."

  "Not even the Salton Sea? But it's right here!" The lake stood a few miles away. He'd been taught it was created by greedy land developers by mistake, making a vast stinking shallow pond. There'd been some effort to shrink and clean the place.

  "Once for that too. I was little; I don't really remember."

  "Well, go. Don't swim, but take photos, maybe."

  Stan worked as quietly as one can with a hammer. He didn't hurt himself much. Soon he'd assembled the top half of the staircase with new wooden boards on the old skeleton of "risers", pretty much like the easier half of a simulation he'd done. He walked up and down, even hopped once he was confident. It was strange, being able to stand on something he'd put together himself.

  "I'll take care of the painting," Parker said.

  "You're sure?"

  "What, are you offering?"

  Stan shrugged. "I've got time. Might as well."

  It was tricky and he screwed up a bit, getting paint on bits of the wall, but the overall result looked pretty good.

  Parker eyed his work. "Since I'm trapped downstairs for a few hours until this dries, I should take a break from all this supervising. Half the pizza's left if you want it."

  Stan washed his hands, wiped his brow and ate in her kitchen, accepting some spare pie and soda too. "Thanks."

  "No, thank you, young man." She brought out a Talisman pad whose shell was wood. "I'd been reluctant to get rid of this one since it's a limited-edition bamboo case. Seems appropriate for you to have it. You paid in sweat. But wash that grease off your hands first."

  A minute later, Stan ran his fingers along the smooth, faintly ribbed contour of the light, fine frame. "This is nice. Thank you."

  "I know. And my grandkids thought I'd want this dumb plastic kind just because it's the latest model." She showed off a newer "Level 2" Talisman that was a bit sleeker and more ergonomic but made of ordinary purple plastic. "Bah, kids don't appreciate artistry."

  Stan said, "You play a space character, right?"

  "Mostly. It's as close as I'll ever get to orbit. Back in the day I was an astronaut candidate, but you
have to have the physique of a Greek goddess to make it. They went with some dirty Arab chick instead. I don't know why Ludo ever dresses up as one."

  Stan suppressed a wince. It was his duty to shame anyone who talked like that, but right now he didn't care. "What was that like?"

  Parker fired up the new-model Talisman and said, "I can show you. Let's have the Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory."

  To Stan's surprise the game came up not with a futuristic space station but with a huge white gymnasium mostly occupied by a swimming pool. In its depths was a tin-can habitat with cranes looming over it.

  Parker said, "Join in since you've got your own machine."

  Stan turned on the bamboo model. It showed him a title screen of white struts and rivets. "New owner," he told it. "Stan Cooper."

  Parker said, "It's the young man from the Community. Wipe my data from that one and put it on his account, but hold off on that so he can play here for a bit."

  Text appeared, saying, [Acknowledged. Temporary character ready.] The pad switched to a view of the same "laboratory".

  Stan had a spaceman character now in a marshmallow-man spacesuit. Parker sat next to him at the kitchen table and appeared pretty much the same in-game, but for her own spacesuit. "In this pool we practiced maneuvering in something like micro-G. These are throwback suits. Equip a helmet and give it a try."

  He grabbed a bubble helmet from a shelf and jumped into the pool. The noise of bubbles and water made him feel cold. His movement was sluggish and he wasn't sure how to paddle.

  "You're not supposed to swim," she told him, joining him underwater. "Grab that handhold, then pretend that losing your grip means you fall out of orbit and burn alive."

  Stan grabbed it and saw a new little meter indicating his grip strength. "Wouldn't it be easier to run this simulation actually in space?"

  The real Parker grinned at him from across the table. "Sure, and I do that sometimes, but it's nice to recreate the work that I got to do in real life. Try entering the station through that airlock over there, for instance."

  He clambered across the metal cylinders that branched this way and that. The facility's lights dimmed so that he relied on his helmet light and lost track of which way was up, climbing along a set of handholds that was probably horizontal. "I'm at the airlock. What button do I push?" His character's gloved fingers looked too big to do anything delicate, and the controls made it hard to steer the hand.

  Parker's voice came double from the real woman and her character through the Talisman's speakers. "That one."

  Stan tried to open the airlock that way, but poked it too hard, forgot he was holding another button to grab something, and accidentally let go of the space station. He flailed in the water, inches away from safety but (he imagined) fated to drift through empty space forever. Parker grabbed him, though, and her face showed a fierce grin. "I did the same thing once," she said.

  There was no skill list in this little world, no monster to fight, but Stan still had to work with complicated controls as he maneuvered around the habitat and tried to attach an aluminum strut underwater.

  "Enough of that," Parker said, stretching and shutting her machine down. "I'm sure you've got better things to do than hang around here all day."

  Stan said, "Thanks again. That was... fun."

  * * *

  Back in the Community he went to Eddie's room. His friend had the same kind of standard-issue home, but he'd filled it with books. At least a dozen, anyway, occupying much of his shelf and desk. It was all dusty old stuff about miscellaneous science and history. "More books from your family?"

  Eddie nodded. "It's nice to see, but I think they get the idea that this is ancient lost wisdom. Most of this stuff is on the Internet free or for sale."

  Stan imagined being hemmed in by piles of books that grew until they squashed him. "Donate them to the Community? That could get you some points. Anyway, here." He pulled out his damaged red Talisman. "You can have this one."

  Eddie was skeptical, as though having the same thought about too much junk in his room, but took it. "Thanks. I'll try it out for studying help."

  "If you try the shared parts of the game, my character's in Endless Isles. We could go exploring together."

  "Sure, later."

  Stan retreated to his room since he still had free time. He fired up the fancy bamboo Talisman and said, "This one's linked to me now, right?"

  [Could not connect to network.]

  Stan cursed. Who designed this network? The Talisman pads aren't a threat; I should be able to get permission to use the Net with one without jumping through hoops.

  The neglected Slab computer buzzed at him. Stan picked the thing up and said, "What?"

  The Slab displayed, [Nutrition not logged.]

  Stan rolled his eyes and tapped out the commands to indicate that he'd eaten half a pizza.

  It buzzed again. [Records show that you bought 1 Pizza with scrip. Add 1/2 Pizza to Community leftovers?]

  There was a point to that tracking, since pretty often someone put spare food up for grabs and it was nice to know when something was available. Stan clicked No.

  [What did you do with it?]

  Stan glared. If he clicked something saying he "shared it with a friend" it'd ask who, and then he'd have to explain what he'd done in terms that the minder software could understand. Whatever he did had to be wedged into its categories and menus. He clicked to dismiss the message, which only turned it into an icon that would stay on the Slab forever as a notice that he had a pending task. The designer wanted to be really damn sure that Stan explained what he did with his lunch. Stan clicked "I threw it out" and dismissed the scolding message that resulted. Then he went back to the new Talisman and installed the damn monitoring software on that, so he could get on the network with it.

  * * *

  The Talisman reset and came back with his nailed-boards version of the title screen. Ludo's voice spoke: "How did it go?"

  "Pretty well!" said Stan. "Thanks for setting that up."

  "I just made introductions. You sweated."

  "That reminds me to log the exercise." Stan grabbed the Slab and fiddled with it to input the fact that he'd done work off-Community, then picked up the Talisman again. "You do that a lot, I bet."

  "I have many friends. A lot of what I do isn't that different from an old social network. You want someone to buy you a lucky maneki neko figurine in Japan? Or get you a backstage tour of the Haunted Mansion in Disneyland? I can arrange it."

  Stan still didn't know what to do with his contact with Oroblanco. "If I get more powerful within Thousand Tales, will I have more influence in the real world?"

  "The things you learn, the people you meet, might carry over between worlds. Just don't think you're going to learn to cast actual spells through the game; I've had some angry parents getting the idea that I'm teaching that."

  Magic did seem like an oddity in a game that taught real skills. He had a vague idea that he could make use of it somehow. "Let's go back to Endless Isles," Stan said.

  * * *

  He was thrown off by appearing on Island East-1 instead of Central Island, thanks to that flag. "I thought I had to save here to make this my starting point." He was near the dark cave in the bramble valley.

  [Normally, but we got sidetracked. Warp back to Central Island?]

  "Nah." Since he didn't have a light source for the cave, he hiked around outside, picking whatever flowers and vines looked interesting along the way. When he reached the eastern shore he stared out across the faint, shimmering curtain marking the boundary between map segments, between him and the cave he'd first explored. He had no way to get over there without swimming, which would probably get him eaten, or building a raft, which was still beyond him, or magic. No bridges led north or south from East-1. Stan hit the Attack button and punched the air in annoyance, thinking, Fine; I'll walk back to Central. The game wasn't going to hand him a way to move on. He'd have to make one.

  While
combing the south shore of East-1 he found some swampy ground with a stand of trees whose exposed roots jutted like fingers over a wide area. The Inspect skill told him, [Mangrove, a coastal tree. Used in making dyes and leather. Important to shore ecology.]

  He crouched and snapped some chunks free. He'd broken half a tree's worth with satisfying snaps, like bubble wrap, when it occurred to him that the stuff might not regenerate. "Is there one of those Stability Gems around here, or will it reset?"

  [No gem here.]

  Stan rampaged for a minute, until a wolf-sized frog hopped onto shore and let loose a croak of challenge. An inspection window popped up to inform him, [Battle Toad: Wants to make you part of the local food chain.]

  Stan backed away and chucked the assassin dagger at it, but missed. The frog's tongue shot out at him. Stan hopped backward but got hit anyway, which yanked him forward. Stan tapped controls to break free but got bitten by a mouthful of frog fangs. [Major wound!] "Do frogs even have teeth?" he said, snapping loose. He dodged in circles to dodge its next strike, and ended up in shallow water. While wading he was too slow to avoid another hit. He tried to parry with his club. That worked at first, but the second time the club got tongue-wrapped and yanked forward. Instinctively he held down the attack button as though clutching the space station. Instead of getting disarmed, he got dragged forward again toward that waiting maw. The good news was that the frog had visibly taken damage from the thorns still wrapping the club.

  What can I do besides mash Attack? he thought. He jumped forward while holding on. In reaction he sailed over the toad, landed on its back, slid down behind it, and watched the monster get yanked right above his head to slam into the trees. There was a satisfying squelching noise. Stan slammed his weapon down on the beast's head. When it got up it was obviously trying to pull its tongue off of the club, but had gotten the thing impaled. Stan tried whipping around in a circle and saw himself swinging the entire frog like a flail. It crunched against another tree, got a swirly-stars effect over its head, then took a final blow from Stan. He managed to get untangled and wipe the slime off.