The Daily Grind - Chapter 163 (Patreon)

Earlier than normal, even.  Hope everyone enjoys.  And now to spend a couple days trying to write cat things.

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“Years ago, my mother used to say to me, ‘Elwood, in this life, you must be oh so smart, or oh so pleasant.’  Well for years I was smart.  I recommend pleasant.”  - Elwood P. Dowd, Harvey -

_____

James pushed open the stairwell door to one of their many, many basements.  He’d started taking the stairs more, because they were so much easier to deal with, and because someone - probably Anesh - had put up convenient signs on all of them.  And now that the Great Reorganization was more or less done, all six and a half of their basements were in full use, and a single elevator simply wasn’t logistically enough for everyone anymore. Especially not if James was always hitting the wrong button.  Because he *was*, even if there was a nice floor guide in the elevator too.

This floor was now wholly devoted to Research, and the vault.  Basement one, it had been officially relabeled, after it was revealed that half the order called it basement one, half of them called it basement two, and at *least* two people called it basement A.  The new basement two was living quarters, along with a garden space, made possible by the ongoing attempts to domesticate and safeguard May, the living raincloud from Clutter Ascent.  Basement three was operations for Response, making use of the biggest open floor space to set up banks for phones and computers, and using the rest of the floor for break or nap areas for teams on call, a small armory, and a few rooms for evacuated civilians, until they could be moved somewhere safer.  Basement four was more living space, but these ones actually designed and the whole floor remodeled by the Order to be camraconda-comfortable.  That was also where they’d set up a permanent worship space.  Basement five was a sort of catchall, and was currently where the asphalt golem they’d built was stored.  They used that one for experimentation a lot, or group projects.  Basement number six was just storage.  Mostly for clutter extracted from the other basements, but also it was where continual efforts to organize the various non-dangerous dungeon artifacts were ongoing.

Right now, James was in basement one, because he needed to talk to someone from Research.  Ideally Reed, if he could find him.  Though given how quiet it was, it actually felt like an empty basement for once.

As he headed down the hallway to the main collaborative research space, James appreciated the remodel down here, even if this floor wasn’t as heavily redone as the others.  Gone were the patches of darkness lit by unsteady hanging lightbulbs.  In their place, the whole basement was bathed in a nicely diffused white light from properly bolted LED clusters up in the corners of the wall and ceiling.  The floor was still concrete, but in the new light, the whole thing really showed off how clean the place had been made.  And cork boards outside the doors to the repurposed storage rooms showed off up to date reports on experiments or scheduling, making the whole place feel like the well used and well loved rec center James remembered taking flute classes at as a kid.

When he emerged into the large floor area that members of Research tended to use as a sort of office space, he found it mostly empty.  “Hey, uh… John, right?”  He greeted the singular human down here.  There was a small pen in the center of the desks full of shellaxies, but despite all efforts on the part of some people, they weren’t actually people at this point.

“John, yeah.”  The young man replied with a nod, looking up from what he was typing, and doing a nervous double take as he saw James.  “What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for Reed, actually.  Is he here?”  James asked.

Whatever John was going to say was cut off by another voice, and he gave James a relieved look as he awkwardly pointed over toward the other speaker.  Poking her head up from underneath a desk opposite them on the floor, Chevoy called over, “Reed’s not here!”

James strolled around the fortress of desks, filing cabinets, and computer monitors, making a wide circle to see what Chevoy was up to.  “Is it actually the weekend?”  James asked her glibly.  “I didn’t think that was a thing down here.”

“Psh.”  The girl slid herself smoothly out from under the desk, hopped to her feet, and planted a cordless drill on an empty part of the surface.  “We *do* take breaks sometimes!”  She said.  “Reed’s got a D&D game today.  Every Sunday, actually.”

“I…” James paused, trying to find a way to word what he was thinking politely.  “No, can’t think of a way to make this sound nice.  I didn’t think Reed had a social life?”

Chevoy squawked a laugh, before covering her mouth with an embarrassed look in her eyes.  “Ah, well, it’s technically still in the building, so I don’t think it counts.  But I don’t make the rules.  Besides, he’s practically always here, he deserves a break.”  She said the last part defensively.

The bit of obvious respect she had for Reed made James smile.  “Oh, I mean, it’s completely fine.  He can take as much downtime as he wants, you know? Everyone can.  We’re not, like, a *business*.”

“Yeah, that takes getting used to.”

James’ suddenly made a connection in his brain.  “Actually, hang on.  When do *you* take time off?  Because you’ve been at *two* major crises in the last… what, two weeks?”  He crossed his arms.  “Didn’t you still have *frostbite* when you were dropping into bail my stupid ass out of a fight?”

“Technically, no, I didn’t have frostbite.”  Chevoy didn’t meet his eyes.  “Also I didn’t fight, I was just there to run reconnaissance.  And because Pendragon is cool.”

“I won’t argue on that point.  But you’re not overdoing it, right?”

Chevoy paused, then gave a sideways glance at him, scanning over his leg and face.  “I won’t tell anyone that you’re walking around if you don’t tell them I’m working.”

“Deal.”  James snap agreed.  “But seriously, you do take days off, right?”

The younger woman shot him a concerned glance.  “Why the hell would I do that? It’s great here.  Even John’s still here, and he’s not even doing anything.”  She nodded across the floor to the kid who was doing his best to look like he wasn’t listening in. “It’s always something new, always something fun.  You basically made a playground for us, and now you’re confused why people keep playing on it.”

“To be clear, you’re including the occasional bursts of life threatening combat in the playground thing?”  James asked with a smile.

“Oh, yeah, whatever.”  Chevoy fluttered a hand at him.  “But, counterpoint, *anything to do with the skulljacks*.  Also if I really need a break, I can just teleport somewhere relaxing.”

“We really need to be more responsible with those things.”  James muttered.

“Why?”

Declining to answer, James pivoted toward the other kid in the room, calling over the sleepy shellaxy pod, “Changing topics rapidly, John, why are *you* here?  If you’re actually not doing anything.”

“Ah!”  The kid lurched in his chair, a guilty look on his face.  “I… I… um… I have work I should be doing.  But it’s… I mean, it’s kind of boring, and I wanted to take a break.”

“Oh.  That’s perfectly normal.”  James was almost disappointed.  “What *is* your job, by the way?”

“I check pencils from Officium Mundi.  It’s… I mean, it’s boring.  But sometimes there’s a cool one.”  John shrugged.  “Someone has to do it, right?”

James shrugged.  “I mean, it’s useful.  But if you don’t like it, you can find something else to do, you know.”  He instantly regretted the way he’d phrased that as a look of despair crossed the young researcher’s face.  “This is, to be clear, not a threat!  I’m not saying we’ll fire you if you don’t get though at least a bushel of pencils a day or something!  We don’t really fire people here.”  Then, muttering under his breath,  “Except for one later.”  And out loud again, “Seriously, what would you rather be doing?”

“I really don’t mind the pencil thing.  I mean, they’re *magic*, and I…”

“Not what I asked, man.”  James shook his head.  “Come on, advocate for yourself a bit.  The whole point of this is that we don’t end up in jobs we hate.”

John winced, then looked up from the desk he’d been staring at in an attempt to escape this conversation.  “I mean, I kind of want to… this sounds stupid.”  He trailed off, but James just waited patiently, arms folded, with an understanding expression.  “I wanted to be one of the people exploring the other dungeons.  Not the Office!”  He quickly explained without being prompted.  “I don’t want to go back there!  But… there’s other places, too, right?  And… and I wanted to see them.  But it sounds stupid when…”

“Alright, sure.”  James shrugged.  “Most of them are… uh… stupidly dangerous.”  He looked the kid up and down, evaluating him even though he was sitting in a chair.  “You’ll need to put on at least a little muscle, and go through a combat experience course.  I think Nate’s running them once a month, but we’ve been *so* busy.  Maybe I can get Alanna to start up part of the rotation now that she’s back.  Anyway, talk to Reed about it, he’ll requisition you some of the exercise potions, and an armory package.”

“...Just like that?”

“Uh… yes.”  James nodded.  “Pretty much.  Though it *is* helpful that you’re testing all the pencils.  So doing at least a little of that would still be nice?  But, like, don’t make it some sisyphean task if you hate it.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway.  Unless either of you know why Reed wanted to talk to me about the rubber, I’m gonna head out.”

Chevoy looked up from the bundle of cords she was pulling through the new hole in the desk she was working at.  “Is *that* why you’re down here? I coulda told you that a while back!  Hell, Reed could have just messaged you.”

“I think he likes talking in person.”  James said.  “Makes him less lonely.”

“He is literally never alone down here… wait, is Reed an extrovert?!”  Chevoy gave James an incredulous look.  “That’s insane!  How have I not noticed that?”

James rolled his eyes, unnoticed by the excited engineer.  “You have worked here for, like, maybe two months.  What even *are* you working on right now?”

“Oh, skulljack stuff, mostly.  Designing secure firmware.  I’m not really good at hardware, which is what Mars and Mike are in charge of.  Mike and Mars who, by the way, have *also* worked here for only a few months, but *I* have several different magic things than!  Anyway, I’m mostly just trying to find ways to natively host something like a firewall on the skulljack’s primary connected platform.”  She shrugged.  “It’s kinda slow going.  In my spare time, I read all the notes Virgil left before he quit, and try to understand what the hell he was thinking.  Also!  Now I’m aware of my breathing at all times, because I keep thinking about the ‘breath’ thing the mountain gave me!”

“...Ah.”  James closed his eyes, and looked off to the side, taking a deep stabilizing breath before he opened them again.

“...Virgil didn’t quit, did he?”  Chevoy asked, voice split between awkward embarrassment, and concern.

A part of James mind wanted to ask her what she *thought* happened, after she’d just nearly died twice in a week, while being officially a non-combat member.  But he bit back the hostility and just shook his head and spoke softly instead.

“He did not, no.”  James said.  “Oh, if you’re looking through his notes, see if you can find anything about a Wikipedia dungeon.  He..”

Chevoy threw up her hands.  “He references it three times, and never explains how to get to it!”  She yelled.  “He’s a cryptic ass!”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”  James put on a shaky smile.  Then, he paused before turning to leave.  “Also, I was actually curious what you were doing *right now*, with the drill and stuff.  Not… sorry, were you talking about getting the human brain to run programs?”

“Uh… yes.”  Chevoy said.  “It’s not working.  Also I’m just setting up a workstation for a new guy.  Quiet-Intentional-Dark wants to work with us.  So, new desk.”

“...shouldn’t a camraconda desk be lower to the ground, or have a ramp or something?”  James asked.

Chevoy paused, looked at the human standard desk she’d just finished drilling holes in and running computer cables through, looked down at the drill in her hand, then back to the desk.  Then she started swearing, while James excused himself with a laugh and headed back to the stairs, shaking his head the whole way.

It wouldn’t be for another hour before he realized no one had actually told him why Reed wanted to talk about the weird rubber they’d recovered from the highway dungeon.

_____

“Hey Momers.”  James said, ducking under a bushel of hanging cords and into the room she had *accidentally* built a digital intelligence in.  “You busy?”  He asked the girl who spun her chair around dramatically to face him.  She made the maneuver so smoothly, James half expected her to say she’d been ‘expecting him’ in an ominous tone.

“No more or less than usual.  I was just about to come find you.”  Momo was, James noticed, actually dressed in human clothes, and not just wearing a battered fuzzy bathrobe and pretending she was fine all the time.  It was the kind of thing she’d probably try to play off as not a big deal, but it meant one of two things.

Either she had something a bit more serious to talk about, and didn’t want to look *entirely* unprofessional.  Or, she was actually trying to take care of herself.

James approved of one of those things.  “Nice pants.”  He nodded at the shorts she was wearing, which were, naturally, black denim and covered in an equal number of pockets, and silver trinkets.  “Are you doing alright?  Anything you wanna talk about?”

“...I know we’re, like, closer than normal, for you being in charge of everything, but that’s still kinda weird to hear from you.”  Momo said.

He just offered a shrug in return.  “I’m trying to be more open, you know?  Social conditioning and anxiety can’t rule my life forever.  Being vulnerable is a work in progress, but I’m not interested in being distant, as a leader.”  He shrugged again.  “I know you’ve had a hard time, I haven’t been great at being supportive, and I’m interested in fixing that, and trying.”

Momo peered at him with narrow eyes.  “Suspicious.”  She decided on.  “In a good mood, being casually caring… Have you been replaced by a body snatcher again?”

“First of all, that never actually happened.”  James instantly reverted to defensive snark.  “*Also*, I’m just in a good mood.  That’s allowed!”  He chuckled.  “That, plus I actually started an antidepressant at my partners’ urging, and I’m cautiously optimistic.”

“Fuck.”  Momo’s eyebrows shot up.  “That’s really cool, dude.  And also tanks my biggest defensive excuse for not… you know, fixing my own life.  What’re you taking?”

“Sorry, hang on, back up.”  James shook his head vehemently, waving his arms in front of him.  “You were using me as an excuse?”

“Uh… no.  You misheard.”  Momo settled on.  “Excuses are bad.”  She cleared her throat.  “Seriously, though.  Thanks?  I… just thanks.  Everyone here *cares*, obviously.  I’m not isolated or anything.  But thanks.  That matters to me.”

James smiled warmly.  “I’d offer you a hug or something, but the last person I talked to was Nate, and as a result of being in the kitchen while there are young students learning how to do stuff, most of me is still damp from where I had a pot of sauce spilled on me.”

“*That’s* why you smell like tomatoes!”  Momo matched his smile.  “Anyway, I have serious news.”

“I *knew* the pants meant serious news.”  James mock grumbled.

Momo stuck her tongue out, before continuing.  “Seriously, though.  I’m worried about Nameless.”

“The AI, with no name, who we all now call Namelss.”  James clarified with a sigh.  “Yeah, this place is infectious.  I’ve only just noticed.”

“Yeah, her.”  Momo nodded.  “Or, it, I guess.  Them?  Them.  I keep thinking of them as… this is unimportant.  Look, the point is, I’m worried.”

Worried, in the context of an AI, could take several flavors, and James was both curious and terrified to find out which one this would be.  We’re they planning to eat the internet?  Exterminate humanity?  Build a spaceship and leave this foolish world behind? So many options, none of them great.  “Worried how, exactly?” He asked, a non-zero amount of trepidation in his voice.

“I think they’re breaking down.”  Momo said, a slight hitch in her voice.

James instantly regretted his cynical assumptions.  “Aw heck.  Why?  Is there a way to stop it?”  He glanced over to the webcam and microphone setup near the pile of computer hardware.   “Also, is this a conversation we should be having here?”

“They already know.”  Momo said.  “Also… I don’t know how to explain this exactly.  They don’t *feel*, the way we do.  Not really.  They have things they want, and they become frantic if they can’t get those things, but most of their recognizable feelings are things that they pick up through a few red totems, and… well, they’re breaking down.”  Momo seemed to shrink into her seat, twisting back and forth as she talked. “I don’t really know why, but I think it’s because they keep changing things.  Making tweaks to their own code, or drawing too much on the totems, or something.  I dunno?  Just a lot of little things that’ve added up, and now it’s causing bigger problems.  But *also*, there’s one really big thing that happened recently that accelerated it.”

“So, what do we do about it? Is there a way to replace the programming chunks?  I know you were using the emerald chips, right?  Can we just swap them out?”  James asked.  “Also, does Nameless have any ideas on it?”

Momo winced.  “I thought about it, but the problem is the chips grow stuff differently every time, and while Nameless is good at incorporating new stuff, it always changes them, and there’s no real promise that replacing something wouldn’t change something… fundamental.  Like, who they are, how they act, anything about them.  They kind of arose randomly, and I have no way to say if they’d come out the same again.”  She paused.  “Also…”

“Also?”  James prompted.

“Also they don’t care.”  Momo’s voice shook.  “They just don’t… care.”

James blinked.  “That they’re breaking down?  That…” He felt a surge of protectiveness in his chest.  “But they’re dying.”  He muttered.

“I know.”  Momo shrugged.  “*Nameless* knows.  It doesn’t matter, though.  They just… they don’t *care*!”  Momo practically yelled the last word, as she pushed out of her chair and started pacing the cramped room, stepping around boxes and piles of tools on the floor.  “They’re just interested in doing what they want!  And it feels like they’re just in massive denial about having a problem, while they throw their time away looking at weather spreadsheets!  And I’m… I don’t know what to *do*!  I made them…!” Momo whipped her head around to look at James, and he saw the beads of tears in her eyes.  “I made them, man.  And they don’t even care that they’re dying, and they don’t want help, and… and…” She trailed off, breath coming in unsteady gasps.

James stepped over a box of floppy drives, and unspeakingly folded Momo into a hug.  The two of them stood like that for a while, with Momo curled in on herself while James just offered her what comfort he could.

After minutes that felt like hours, Momo sniffed, wiped away at one of her eyes, and muttered, “You smell like tomato sauce.”

“I warned you.”  James said, releasing her from the hug.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know how to help.  And I don’t even know if it’s okay to help someone like this.  This is a very strange ethical territory you’re exploring here.” He sighed.  “Also, what’s the big thing you said earlier?”

“Oh.  Nameless found a dungeon.”  Momo said.  “Uh… they found Virgil’s dungeon, actually.”

“Holy shit, no way.”  James’ eyebrows shot up.  “Have you checked it out?”

“I have not.”  Momo said, shooting a glare at the bank of hardware that was Nameless’ physical container.  “Because apparently, they aren’t just interested in *finding* dungeons, but collecting *all sorts* of data on them.”

“Wait.”

“Yeah!”

James squeezed his eyes shut before speaking.  “So… the AI’s degradation is… battle damage?”  He asked incredulous.  “Also why haven’t you checked it out?”

“Because!”  Momo threw her hands up.  “The access point *moves*!  And apparently Nameless is alive enough that whatever antimeme protects the dungeon wipes its memory of the method!”  She pointed an arm behind her, leveling a finger at Nameless.  “They’ve been in *five times*, and didn’t tell anyone!  And it’s *killing them*!”

“Nameless.”  James said in a quiet, patient.  “Are you listening?”

“I am always listening.”  The AI replied.  “How are you?”

James waited a heartbeat for the continued cavalcade of questions the AI normally had, but that was it.  If he didn’t know better, he’d say it sounded *sheepish*.  “I’m doing alright.  And you already heard me tell Momo that.  Can you tell me, why are you hurting yourself?”

“I do not hurt.”  The nameless AI replied.  “I am collecting data.  And resources.  Information and xenotech are both of use to the greater organization.  My actions reinforce the pattern.  Why do you do what you do? What would you have me do instead?”

“The… you…” James shook his head.  “No, no.  Answers first.  Why do I do what I do? I do what I do to help people.  So fewer people are hurt, more people live.  So that the pattern, as you call it, grows and becomes more complex.  What would I have you do?”  He paused, and glanced at Momo, who was fuming, clearly having already had this conversation.  “I’d have you be part of that pattern.”  James said.  “A permanent part.”

“Nothing is permanent.  I have data to show that.”  Nameless replied.

“Yeah, but I’m human, so that’s terrifying, and I use ‘permanent’ to mean ‘eh, thirty to eighty years, and pretend it will be longer’.”

“I will record that.”  The AI’s synthesized voice said.

“Please don’t.”  James winced.  “It’s a very embarrassing thing to admit.  Anyway, the point is, the *point*, is that your existence is *valid*, and you are shortening it for no good reason!”

There was a quiet tension in the air, broken when the AI spoke again.  “My existence is not self-defining.”  They said. “I am different from you. I want to study, to compare.  And also to explore, in my way.  When I end, I will not measure my success or failure.  I only know, now, whether I am doing as I want.  Momo says I am defining myself as a tool.  But if that is true, am I not a good tool?  I am succeeding, now.  That is all I can know.  The future is not real.  I am not human.”

Momo looked like she was going to try to strangle the computer, but James just lay a hand on her shoulder and made a low uncomfortable humming noise.  “Okay, putting aside the horrifying existential crisis waiting to happen there, what about the connections to and feelings of the people around you? There’s quite a few people in the Order that like you.  Does that not add value to the process of sticking around?  To put it in terms of utility.”

“No.”  Nameless said simply.  “It is not part of the set of things I want.  And I cannot change that.  You could, if you wanted.”

“Oh, I am ridiculously not comfortable with that.”  James spoke without thinking.

“Yeah, welcome to my whole week.”  Momo ground her teeth together.  “The whole fucking foundation you’ve gotten us all on board with is that consent is important.  And now, someone consents to let me *rewire their brain*, and you know what? I’m not super comfortable with it!”  She shifted away from James.  “I do *not* know what to do, but none of it is fun.  I signed up to have fun.”  Momo griped.

“I think you’re misremembering the hiring process.”  James joked, trying to lighten the mood.  Then, more serious, he added “But I do see where you’re coming from.  Is there a good ethical reason to not just add a component to Nameless that makes them want to be alive?”

“The impermanence of all things?”  Momo suggested, and instantly regretted it as she saw James shudder and clench his hands into fists.  “Uh… also, I don’t think it would help.  It would only make them… sad.  AI-sad.  Whatever.  Because the degradation is ongoing, and more or less unfixable.”

“Terminal.”  The AI added, and it sounded like it was *smirking* with its synthetic speech.

“Did you just make a pun?”  James asked.  “Is puns one of the things you want?”

“Yes.”  The AI answered.  “It is collation of linguistic data.”

“I guess it is, yeah.”  James agreed, before turning back to Momo.  “Do you want the shitty truth that I don’t see a workaround for?”

“No.  But say it anyway.”

James shook his head, shoulder’s slumping.  “Let them be comfortable.  Happy.  And when they can’t keep doing what they want, we help them shutdown easily.”  The words felt *wrong*, even as he said them.  The emotional part of him that hated the idea if death rebelling against its existence.  “Or, you know, we hope they find a healing potion for AIs in the dungeon they *apparently* keep finding and delving!”  He was a little annoyed at that, and let that emotion take over, driving away the shadows.

“If it’s any consolation, they did bring back a bunch of dungeon stuff.” Momo suggested.

“How long has this been going on?”  James asked.

“A week, like I said.  But I literally only found out today about the dungeon thing.”  Momo shifted something on the desk, and handed a cardboard box over to James.  He peeked inside and saw a mishmash of data storage hardware.  Floppy disks and USB sticks and other such pieces of technology scattered together.  “I haven’t tested any of them.”  Momo said.  “I don’t… really want to, right now.”

“Hang on to it for now.”  James passed the box back.  “We can take it to Research later.  Let them figure it out.”

“You know I’m part of Research, right?”  Momo raised her eyebrows at him.

James cleared his throat.  “Honestly?  I’ve internally been thinking of you as a one-girl division called Ritual, because I noticed the other day that all of our divisions are r-words.”

“Oh my god, yes.”  Momo gave a slightly manic giggle.  “Yes!  That’s what I am now!  I’m gonna start recruiting.  Can I get the new kid with the infomorph?  She seems like a *great* witch candidate!”

“Who, Ava?  Uh… hell no.”  James drawled as he turned to head out.  “For one thing, her mom would kill me.  For another… actually, that’s all I’ve got.  No, wait!  The danger!  You can’t put literal children in danger.  Besides, she’s gonna be going back to school this year.”

Momo pulled a face.  “Ew”

“Yeah, I know.  We’ll solve that one next.”  James promised.

_____

“Dang, kid.  What happened to you?”  Bill let out a low whistle as he passed his nominal boss in the hallway.

James stopped as the burly older construction foreman turned to face him in passing.  “What?”  He raised his eyebrows, and instantly winced as the skin on his face pulled.  “Oh, right.  That.  Chemical explosion.”

“The fuck did you blow up?”  Bill asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the basement wall.

“Well that’s just mean.  What makes you think I…?  Okay, yeah, not even gonna try to finish that sentence.  It was a living tanker truck full of what I *think* was some sort of explosive concoction.  A lot of it got on my face.  Alanna’s kinda messed up too, but there was more intact windshield protecting her.”  James sighed.  “Really don’t wanna do that again, honestly.”

Bill stared at him.  “...You shitting me?”

“No, I actually don’t want to do that again.”  James blinked.  “Oh, and yeah, that actually happened.  I guess you’ve been kinda busy with other stuff lately, huh?”  He sighed.  “No one appreciates my reckless heroism.”

“Yeah, I’ve actually been out for the week.  We got some acreage over in Yamhill that no one ever goes to where we can test out buildings.  Someone said it was fine if I worked in chunks, so I can take a whole week off every now and then.”  Bill stated it like he was almost challenging James.

“Yup.”  James just nodded.  “Good call.”  He agreed.  “So, how is the totem stuff going, anyway?  You fitting in?”

Bill’s shoulders slumped a bit in equal parts relief and exhaustion.  “Honestly?  Kid, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.  It’s like… like I’ll put together a building frame to test on, and everyone will gather around, and when they look at it, they’re seeing stuff I’m blind to.  Like I woke up one day an’ got told that I’ve been disabled this whole time, but nothing’s changed.”  He shook his head, staring down the hallway to avoid looking at James.  “They don’t need me there.  I’m just putting together shacks.  You can find someone better at the magic part for that.”

“Are you... quitting?”  James was confused.

“Do you actually want some old guy who can’t adapt around?”  Bill snorted out.

James sighed.  “Okay, so, here’s the deal.  And I’m gonna try to make this quick, because I’ve got a lot more of this exact same conversation today, probably.  So you get to be my guinea pig.”  He paused, but didn’t get interrupted, and so carried on.  “You’re not here so you can build a magical city.  You’re here so you can help us build a magical *society*.  I didn’t hire you to be an urban engineer-”

At that point, Bill actually did interrupt.  “Wait, really?  Shit, kid, I’ve been studying for that like I’m back in college and exams are coming up, and I could have skipped all that?”

“...” James tried to find a spot on his face to press his palm into that wasn’t burned.  “Okay… nevermind, you are now hired to be an urban engineer.  Does that not… is that not a qualification?!  Is that not adapting!? Oh my god!  You don’t need to be a goddamn wizard to work here, Bill!”  James exclaimed with no small amount of frustration.  “We’re in this for *everyone*.  Just putting up walls is good enough!  *Being here* is good enough!  We… I don’t… agh!”  He threw a hand over his head and spun around to thump his forehead into the wall, only narrowly being dodged by a passing camraconda duo who politely ignored the scene.

“Is this part of the test run?”  Bill asked, sounding equally confused and amused.

“Yeah, sure.”  James bonked the wall again, before pushing back and facing the man again.  “Alright.  Look.  We want to make a city, yes.  But also we want to make a better world.  The city is a working model of how *everything* can be better.  And that means either finding places for everyone, or letting people find their own places.”  He straightened up his back as he made the connection himself and gained a growing confidence in his own words.  “It’s not about the buildings.  It’s about the culture.  But we’re not gonna get to the point that we can share that culture, shape that culture, without the foundation.  And that’s something you can help with.  And I don’t even know if I’m making sense here?”

“I mean…” Bill shook his head, rubbing a hand across the rough stubble on his chin.  “It just sounds naive, kid.”  He said.  “You just don’t need someone like me for this.”

“Bill, being perfectly honest, I don’t *need* any of this.”  James folded his arms over his chest.  “I could be living a perfectly comfortable life if I’d never told anyone about this, never stuck my neck out, and just vacuumed up all the cash from Officium Mundi.  Which I guess probably looks naive to a lot of people.  But it would have been boring, and useless.  So we’re doing this instead, and you’re invited to join.”

Bill pursed his lips and gave a small ongoing bob of his head.  “Alright.”  He said finally, in his rumbling voice.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”  Bill’s nod got bigger, before he turned to go.  “Alright.  I’m back to the test site.  Don’t work too hard.”

“...Was there actually a problem, or do people just like getting me riled up about stuff?”  James asked after him.  “I’m starting to suspect people are just messing with me. Or just constantly testing my convictions.”  He grumbled, before he shook his head and went back to his original goal of borrowing a telepad from someone on Response.  “Dumbass.  Trying to quit.”  He muttered to himself, ignoring the people he was passing.  “The one day I plan on firing someone, and I’m spending time convincing people to say.”

Twenty feet after James had passed, Morgan turned to Color-Of-Dawn.  “Can people actually get fired here?  I didn’t think that was a thing.”

The camraconda twisted to look back at James as the Order’s founder made his way through the door to the Response armory.  “Hasn’t fired *me*.”  It said, synthesized voice sounding almost petulant.

“Right, and you’re actually a hardened criminal.”  Morgan tried to make the joke sound lighthearted, but it still came out strained.  The two of them shifted slightly, moving away from each other a fraction as they continued to the rest room.

And then, Color-Of-Dawn looked up with curiosity in its lens.  “Would we accept hardened criminals?”  It asked Morgan.

Morgan almost stumbled as the question hit him, and he spun on the ball of his foot to walk backward briefly, looking down at the camraconda.  “I mean, they took me, and I shoplifted *a lot* before I got here.  So, probably?  Yeah.  Yeah!  Probably!”

“Mmm.”  The camraconda hiss-hummed.  “Accepting.  Acceptable.”

“I think that should be the motto here.  Want to see if we can get Sarah to put that on a sign somewhere?”

“Work.  Wish to coil and drink tea now.  Sign later.”  Color-Of-Dawn said, passing by its friend.  Morgan just nodded and followed.  Both of them weren’t even really ‘supposed’ to be down here.  But the break room on this floor had the *good* sugar.  And both of them had been through enough of an ordeal lately, they felt like they earned it.

_____

James snapped into existence outside the door to a hospital room, and elicited a startled yell from a passing nurse.  “Sorry!”  He said, flushing in embarrassment, glad that his face mask blocked most of that detail.  “That’s literally never been a problem before!”

“Wh.. you!  What?!”  The woman clutched her chest through her blue scrubs, pointing her other hand at him like was a ghost.  “You scared the hell out of me!”  She accused him.

“Yeah, I didn’t really think about it.  Sorry, again.  I’m just here to pick up my friend, and clear up a bed for you.”  He jerked a thumb toward the door to the room he’d appeared by, where presumably El was still recuperating.  “Kinda thought there wouldn’t be anyone around here?”

“We’ve been *full*.”  The woman snapped at him, smoothing her scrubs and regaining some composure.  It was, James had realized, something that had come up with almost everyone he’d talked to at this hospital so far; even when things got weird, it only took them about thirty seconds to adjust and plow forward.  Was there a dungeon here that he should know about, or was this just a medical professional thing?  “If this is your friend’s room, then he’s sharing it.”  The nurse challenged him with hard eyes.

“She, and… I suppose that’s fine?”  James shrugged.  “Look, I already talked to the surgeon, I just need to get El to a bed that’s not in your way.”

Upon hearing the actual patient’s name, the nurse softened measurably.  “Alright.  I still need to send someone by to do the checkout paperwork, but you can talk to her at least.”  She slid open the glass door and let James pass first into the room, following after.

El was occupying one of two beds that were placed opposite each other, making the already rather tightly efficient hospital room *very* cramped.  The other resident, another girl who looked to be about fifteen, was watching El with a sarcastic look as the older girl spoke.  “...so then he did something stupid with a dragon, and just sort of… oh, hey James.”  El nodded at him.  “Anyway, the point is, we *didn’t* die, and you can tell, because I’m here, and awake, and hungry, and still haven’t gotten the pudding I was promised an hour ago.”

“I will have Nate make you some pudding.”  James promised her.  “I would have thought Liz would be with you.”

“You made up literally all of that.”  The teenager accused El.

James was glad that his toothy grin was concealed as he hissed out a laugh.  El shot him a glare, and he just raised his hands.  “Oh, hell no.  I’m not helping you with this *again*.  You’re on your own.”

“You are amazingly unhelpful.  I nearly died for you and this is the thanks I get!”  El moped as the nurse moved past, checking the pillows and monitors of the younger girl in the room without comment.  “See if I get torn up over you next time…” She grumbled.  “Also Liz got checked out yesterday, according to your own chat server.  Come on, man.”

“Are you her boyfriend?”  The kid asked, staring openly at the visible damage to James’ face.

“Nooooooo, no.”  James laughed

“No!”  El barked out, a little harsher than needed.

“Well hang on now!”  James jokingly protested.  “You don’t need to be so mean about it!  I could be a *great* boyfriend!  Have you considered, perhaps...”

“I’m going to set you on fire.”  El cut him off, yelling through the pillow she’d covered her face with.

James shook his head.  “Sorry, you aren’t that kind of witch.”  He said regretfully.  “Anyway.  You ready to get out of here?”

“Uh… I’m gonna need a wheelchair or something.”  El motioned down at herself, laying in the bed.  “Leg’s still… you know.”

“I mean, you got clawed up, like, three days ago.”  James said.  “I’d be shocked if you could walk.  But yes, we’ve got a chair waiting for ya back at the Lair.  Uh… assuming you… you know, want to… come back?”  He cleared his throat.  “I realize we didn’t talk about this much, and I dunno if anyone’s been visiting you here, but… well, you’ve got a place with us if you want, you know?”

El stared at him.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been less surprised to hear anything in my life.”  She said, dropping her head back to the rough hospital pillow.  “Also no visitors right now.  Cause, you know…” She waved hand around the hospital.  “Anyway.  Yes.  Get me out of here.  I *obviously* don’t know what I want with my damn life, so… whatever.  Let’s go, come on.  Spirit me back to your anarchist utopia.”  She held out a hand to him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

James stared at her.  “You do realize you’re going to have to stand up, otherwise when we blip back, you’ll fall on your ass, right?  Also, I keep *telling* people that the Order isn’t specifically anarchist, and no one believes me.”  He gnawed at his lip under his mask.  “I should draw a diagram.”

“What?”  The other girl in the room said.  Even the nurse paused at the door to look back, though the fact that she’d seen James appear out of thin air made her glance more one of excited curiosity than anything else.

“Dammit.” El said, struggling to push herself up, and hissing in pain as she tried to move and pulled at the stitches in her side.  “Okay, okay.  I’m alright.”  She waved an arm at the nurse, trying to keep her away even as the woman attempted to get El to lay back down.  “Get off me, I’m not staying here.”  El practically snarled at the nurse, who just gave an unimpressed stare back.

James traded exasperated looks with the other girl in the room.  “Has she been a tough roommate?”  He asked her.

“Eh.  She’s… fun, I guess.  Keeps making stuff up.”  The teenager shrugged.  James took a second to examine the younger girl, and noticed she seemed far, far too thin for her age.  Pale, too.

“What are you here for, if you don’t mind?”  James asked her.

“Nothing.”  The girl looked away.

James turned toward the nurse, who just shook her head.  “I’m not violating HIPPA rules for someone who just came in her eto rile up a patient.”  She snapped, before turning back to El.  “Now *lay down* or I will call security!”

El, still struggling, sagged back panting for breath, and gasped out at James, “She’s here for chemo.”

James tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling tiles.  “Of course she is.”  He muttered.  “Nikita’s getting too fuckin’ smart, huh?”  He gave the nurse a resigned look, and she replied with an alarmed expression on her face.  “Whatever.  Here, kid.”  James pulled his good hand out of his coat pocket, and tossed a purple orb over to the teenager.  “And a pile for you.  One for you, the rest for anyone here for cancer treatment, kay?”  He held out his hand, and the nurse reflexively accepted as he poured a handful of orbs into her palm.  “Careful with those.  Justine tells me they’re worth ‘basically all the money’.”  He looked down at the bed.  “El, I’ve got things to do today.  You getting up or not?”

“She is…!”

“I’m up, I’m up.”  El rolled off the side of the bed, ripping off several monitoring wires taped to her chest.  “God, you fight *one* crazy wizard and every expects you’re a fuckin’ superhero.”

“Don’t I know it.”  James agreed, offering her a hand.

She took it, and a second later, there was a snap as two humans worth of space emptied out of the hospital, accompanied by a yelp of shock.  Leaving behind an awe struck nurse staring down at the bounty in her hand, and a young girl crying in relief as her body started to repair itself for the first time in years.

Then they arrived back at the Lair, and El fell on her ass anyway.

_____

Clutter Ascent welcomed James with an intensity of warmth he hadn’t known was possible. It was like… like waking into the kitchen on Christmas Eve after taking a golden retriever through a long walk through the snow and smelling cookies in the oven.  He didn’t know how the attic had captured that feeling, but then he realized that the feeling was just a fragment of the whole thing.  The Attic was projecting something much deeper, and James was just feeling his own memory resonate with it.

“That’s really cool.”  He whispered as he stepped up to the top of the ladder.  On his shoulder, Rufus nodded in agreement.

The landing at the entrance to the dungeon was as cluttered as ever, the attic really living up to this name.  Cardboard boxes, stacks of board games that were assuredly missing pieces, bushels of old garden tools standing up in buckets, sheet covered dressers and cupboards.  It was a riot of faded colors, wood tones, and dusty cloth.  But every time he was here, James always seemed to find something that caught his eye.

“...Is that a *stuffed camraconda*?” He asked no one in particular.  “Whaaat.  That’s adorable!”  He spoke in a hushed, excited tone to his companion as he found one of the pathways through the piles, and started making his way toward his destination.

The attic was *technically* still a dungeon.  But James had a hard time feeling any amount of tension as he moved about here, anymore.  It was just too safe, too welcoming.  And that would have made it the perfect *trap*, honestly, except instead of a trap, it spawned things like excitable rain clouds and blanket forts, and whatever the hell Fredrick was.

So while it did actually have challenges, most of them weren’t dangerous at all, and the challenge of navigation was more a matter of spotting the occasional sign that had been posted around, or following one of the many, many sunsets shining through what was rapidly becoming a variety of different styles of window set high against distant walls.

And it wasn’t long weaving through chipped old furniture and boxes of tangled light ropes that James, still with Rufus riding on his shoulder, came across his destination.

It was a semicircular cleared area, pressed up against a wall and right under a window that beamed purple and orange sunset light down onto a loosely disturbed pile of blankets.  There was a coffee table in the middle of the space, covered in multiple game boards and a clutter of various pieces that would make the dungeon proud.

Rufus shifted his weight and clicked a question, and James was reminded that his first dungeon friend had actually gotten quite a bit heavier as he tipped sideways.  Rufus clicked wildly as he slid and tumbled, but James deftly caught him and set him down on the table, grinning sheepishly at the frantically waved sign gestures the stapler made at him.

“Sorry, sorry!”  He apologized.  “I’m still a little wobbly.  Sorry.”  James softly settled himself down into the blankets, smile turning more natural as Rufus bobbed in acceptance of the apology.  “So, this is where I last met him.”  James said to the stapler.  “I think he has some kind of dungeonsense, so he should be here eventually.  Kind of skittish.”

The two of them were here because James had asked his stapler friend if he’d be interested in meeting the strange rat-gecko-spider hybrid creature, whom Sarah had gleefully named Fredrick Umbra Armillary the First.  And Rufus had… well, Rufus had thought for a long time, but eventually said yes.

The stapler spidercrab was not blind to what James was attempting here.  There was an impulse for dungeon life, as far as he was aware, to view humans as alien, and in a lot of ways scary.  Though that might just be him, because he was *very* small compared to the human friends he’d made.  But he *had* made friends, and he was a living proof of concept to any other dungeon’s denizens, that coexistence was not only possible, but welcome.

Also he had a suspicion that James and Alanna and possibly also Sarah had conspired to try to get him to make more friends.  Which was… fair, really.  He’d been spending a lot of time on his own silent, lonely project lately.  And while he and Ganesh operated well as a pair, they didn’t spend a lot of time together casually these days.  Similarly, human friends could be hard to talk to, especially when they were constantly rushing around to this or that crisis.

And the thing Rufus came to realize was… he didn’t mind that.  He didn’t mind the idea of meeting new friends, crafted creatures like him, from other places.  Maybe with similar lives, who could understand what he’d been through. For sure, there were human parallels, but it wasn’t quite the same.

So he’d said yes.  And here he sat with James, waiting on a coffee table and trying to deduce how the sprawling game in front of him was played without a rulebook, or any sense of logic to its layout.

And when the other creation, Fredrick, materialized out of the shadows, hummed a greeting at James, and settled in after accepting a bag of pistachio nuts as payment, Rufus started to think that maybe James wasn’t just tying to get *him* to make friends.

“This is Rufus.  Friend of mine.”  James said, waving a hand down at the stapler.  Rufus politely raised a leg in greeting, and watched as the scaled muzzle and beady gem-blue eyes of the creature across the table locked on him and froze, before Frederick lifted a furred limb out from under the cloth cape bound around his back and waved back.

James noticed that the small creation was hiding half his limbs, but he didn’t draw attention to it.  Instead, he and Fredrick dove back into whatever game they’d been playing while Rufus watched and pieced together rules, and James explained what had been going on lately.

“Problem was,” James eventually said, rolling a chess pawn in his hand and not focusing on the board, “problem was we were just too late.”  He said with a sigh.  He still hadn’t made a move, and Rufus, with growing confidence about the rules, inched a piece forward for him.  Fredrick’s eyes met his across the table, and he gave a nod, the motion slipping his hood back a little to reveal another set of eyes that widened in alarm before the small creature pulled the cloth back down.

Rufus didn’t mention it.  He didn’t want to be rude.  But he had too many strange friends these days to find this new one at all scary.

So instead he made another move on the board, and matched back and forth with the scaled not-monster until James snapped out of his morose mood and noticed.  “Oy! You’re gonna cost me points!”  He exclaimed.  Rufus just looked up at him with a disbelieving eye.  “Okay, well, *I* was gonna cost me points too, but I wanted it to be my fault…”

And a few minutes later, after they’d all lapsed into a comfortable quiet, Fredrick opened his muzzle after moving a piece, and asked, “Bringing them home?”  His voice wavered, like he was uncertain about using it.  Rufus was honestly a bit jealous that he had been made with a voice at all.

“Home… here?”  James asked, and shook his head in response to Fredrick’s nod.  “No, no.  We’re going to help them find their own homes.  Or recover the ones they lost.  It’s hard.  There’s a lot of people who need help, and even then… we didn’t save everyone.”

“Help?”  Fredrick asked.

“Help finding a home.”  James explained.  “Getting back on their feet.  Recovering.”

But Rufus had heard the real question in the word.  He wasn’t asking what help was.  He was asking how *he* could help.

Rufus decided he liked Fredrick.

There came a point when James leaned back, and just started watching, as Rufus and his new board game opponent played against each other.  And then, when James excused himself and headed off with a smile and a promise to have someone check in with Rufus later.

And then, it was just the two of them.  And Rufus watched with curiosity as Fredrick seemed to completely drain of tension when James left, relaxing and rustling under his cloak.

He made a series of gestures.  You know, he asked of the amalgamation, he really doesn’t care what you are.

Fredrick answered back with his own motions, either because his voice wasn’t meant for conversations, or because he was just more comfortable this way.  I don’t want to upset him, Fredrick said.

Rufus rolled his eye, not needing to move to make the message clear.  You’re upsetting him more this way; he’s worried about you.

The other dungeon creation kneaded scaled paws in front of the clasp to its cloak.  Anxiety.  Fear.  Emotions, not words with meaning.

Rufus changed track.  Gestures around them, looked up at the window with the false sunset coming through.  Gave a curious look at the seated Life across from him.  What, he asked, is this place?

And Fredrick didn’t have a gesture for it.  So he spoke a word that he’d heard the humans use before. That he felt, in his bones, was right.  “Home.”  He answered.

Tapping at his head, Rufus jabbed a leg toward where James had left.  Think, he encouraged.  Think about *that human*.  The one that just spent half an hour wishing he could have protected more people.  You think he cares what you look like? Or do you think he’d just see a home that needs protecting?

Fredrick’s fidgeting stopped, as the dungeon Life really did think about it. And then, with a nervous motion, he unclipped his makeshift cloak, and pulled the hood down.  Three extra rows of eyes, colors fading from blue to red, but never losing that glittering shine, stared at Rufus.  And with a relieved stretch, Fredrick unfurled his other four long furred spidery legs from behind his back, and moved them into comfortable positions around himself.

Rufus nodded.  Held up his own extra forelegs to show that he, too, had an advantage in limb count over the average human.  They were *large* yes, but they didn’t have enough *legs*.

Then he tapped at the table. Now, he signaled to his new friend, I think its your turn, and I’m finally starting to understand why I’m losing.

______

James knocked on the open door to a small office space near the front of the building.  It had originally been *his* office, before a series of complicated magical steps had stapled a floor of a skyscraper to their elevator access.  Then it had been more or less repurposed as a place to shove their new FBI liaison, and after their *first* FBI liaison had been shredded by heavy machine gun fire, the space had been cleaned up, large parts of the front area had been remodeled, but this little extra space had remained.  And so, rather than turn it into a closet or something, they’d put a better desk in there, and given it to DeKay.

“DeKay.”  He nodded curtly at the woman behind the desk as he walked in.

She wasn’t actually seated, instead she was standing bent slightly over as she arranged objects in a sturdy grey briefcase.  “Lyle.”  She replied without looking up at him.

James just watched her in silence as she shuffled around whatever it was she was packing.  ‘Whatever it was’, he almost snorted at the thought.  He knew almost exactly what it was.  It was, in large part, why he was here.  And also why he’d awkwardly left this conversation for the last thing he did today.

Eventually, the woman looked up at him, and James was almost certain he saw the spectral form of the infomorph she carried flicker around her eyes.  “Can I help you with something?”  She said.

Taking a deep breath, James gave a small shake of his head.  “What are we gonna do with you, DeKay?”  He asked quietly, and watched her tense noticeably.  “Stealing magic, plotting sabotage, what did we ever do to you aside from invite you in?”  James sighed.

“Is that all this is about?”  DeKay asked, trying and failing to cover up the stress in her voice.

“Wow, not even a denial.  And that sentence *super* implies that you’ve been doing more stuff I’d hate too, so nice job.”  James shifted his feet to a casually guarded stance in the doorway.

“Think of them as already paid for.”  DeKay suggested bitterly.  “You charge enough for your services, after all.”

James shook his head.  “I’m not charging *you* though.  Come on, what the hell is this?”  He asked.

“Oh, what?”  The agent asked, suddenly *angry* in a way James hadn’t really seen from her before.  “You thought no one was going to notice you? That you’d coast by under the radar because anyone with enough power to stop you would be blind to all the alien mindwarping bullshit you have here?”  DeKay jabbed a finger toward James.  “You are a *threat*.  To this country, to its people, to its *government*.  And you’re a fucking idiot if you think you can just do whatever you want and get away with it.”

With raised eyebrows, James let her yell, and then when she was out of words, let the quiet take over.  “Anything else?”  He asked.  “Any more flimsy justifications for the preemptive suicide notes you’ve been writing for people?”

“How…”

“Shut up.”  Now it was James’ turn for anger.  “Just… shut up.”  He closed his eyes.  Let the simmering fury in his chest subside.  “I’m here to tell you that you are no longer welcome in this building, agent.  You will be leaving now.”  He tried to keep his words calm as he spoke.

DeKay stared at him.  “Your organization’s relationship with the Bureau…”

“Is *over*.”  James informed her with a hiss.  “There is no relationship with you, or your government.  Your presence here is no longer required.”

“You’re making a mistake.”  DeKay told him, shifting to lean forward on her desk, hands curled into claws on the cluttered surface.  She met his eyes with a razor sharp gaze of her own.

“I’m always making mistakes.”  James said.  “It’s about time we corrected one.”

“Your little ‘Order’ won’t last.”  The fed told him, lashing out.  “Your stupid ideology is disruptive and dangerous.  You need to be stopped *now*.”

“Jesus Christ, again with the ideology thing.”  James almost slumped back against the doorframe.  “DeKay, our ‘ideology’ is basically just ‘look at available statistical data and try to do our best’.  Hell, even JP does that, and he’s the closest person here to *your* apparent ideology.  Also he’s a way better spy than you, so good job there I guess.  Fuck, your petty little obsession with controlling things-“

“Controlling threats is my *job*!” DeKay yelled at him.

James didn’t rise to the emotional bait, just kept his voice level, if a little shaky.  “Control… ugh.  Control is what we strive for so we can stop being afraid.  It’s great, when you want control over your health, or your food supply, but get much bigger than that and it starts to turn violent.  Dangerous, to use your word.  No, no.  I’m done being scared.  We’re building something better.  And you could have been part of it, but you’re still jumping at shadows.”  James looked away.  “Get out, DeKay.  And come back when you’re ready to face the world with courage, and not the gun in your hand.”

The gun in her hand was literal, not a metaphor.  She was leveling it at James, having plucked it off the desk like it was a secret and he hadn’t noticed it five minutes ago.  “I could kill you now.”  The look in her eyes was wild.  Almost feral.

James stared at her, not bothering to even rise from his position braced against the doorframe.  “First of all, no you absolutely could not.”  He started.  “Second of-“

The agent tried to pull the trigger.  And found that her finger would not move.  Nor, in fact, would any other part of her.

“Red light.”  A synthesized voice came from just above the ceiling tiles, where Frequency-Of-Sunlight was peering through a small gap.

“*Second of all*,” James continued,  “what the *fuck*, lady?  That’s your answer to everything?  Gun in hand, threats and violence?  I changed my mind, don’t ever fucking come back.  Christ on a bike.  This is the real world, not an action movie.  You don’t need to shoot everything.”

DeKay didn’t reply.  Instead, she was busy reaching out with her mind. Connecting to her infomorphic companion, the old greedy assignment spinning to life as she promised him an equal share of the spoils of war after they-

“That Which Is Owed To Me.”  James solemnly addressed the flickering green spectre that was building around DeKay’s arms.  “Good to see you again.”  He didn’t make a move to flee or fight, instead saying.  “When we first met, I let you go.  Gave you a second chance.  A favor is *owed*, and I am calling in that marker.”  James calmly reached over the desk and spun DeKay’s briefcase around, plucking one of the hundred or so telepads she’d packed into it out, and quickly shredding the first five pages before scribbling an address on the last one.  “What do you say?  Call it even?”  James asked, holding up the telepad.

In her mind, DeKay screamed defiance.  But it didn’t really matter; camraconda’s weren’t a test of will, they were a test of whether you brought a friend along.  And Debt… well, Debt was a lot of things.  But he always paid his own dues, and at the end of the day, Tiffany DeKay had been a far better home than his previous ‘owner’.

The infomorph manifested a single spined hand, and plucked the telepad away from James.  Debt did spare several seconds of longing look at the packed briefcase, but his gaze was drawn back to James when the young man held up a roll of bound green bills.  “Here.”  James said.  “A gift, just for you.  As thanks.”  He gave Debt a smile.  A *real* smile.  “You know, you’re welcome back here.  Even if she’s not, okay?”

Debt made another few hands, snatched the money.  And gave James a tentative thumbs up.  But paused before tearing the telepad.  With a voice like clinking metal, he told James, “Tiffany wants you to know, this is not over.”

“Nothing’s ever really over.”  James smile turned sad.  “Not until a hundred years later and a few dozen history books.”  He sighed, then blinked once.  “I mean, except for her having an office here.  That is absolutely over.  See you later, Debt.”

“And you.”  The infomorph spoke one last time.  And then, with a snap, DeKay was gone and the green spectral form with her.

James stared at the now empty office for some time, before he sighed again and went to walk away.  But a rustling overhead caught his attention.

“Halp.”  The camraconda’s voice came down from where she had wedged herself in the ceiling.  “Plz!”

“Oh shit, right!  Hang on Frequency!  I’ll get a stepladder.  Oh, and thank you!”  James called, and rushed out of the room.

The best possible solution for him to feeling morose about a hard decision and a confrontation had just presented itself; another crisis that he needed to solve.  James figured, as long as the problems kept rolling, he could always keep finding the energy to snap out of his gloom, and go find a ladder.

This would be easier if they had a supply closet up on this floor, though.

“I’m turning that office into a closet.”  He muttered, before calling to the assembled front lobby area, “Does anyone know where a ladder is?!”

No one did, but they got Frequency-Of-Sunlight down in about five minutes with a little bit of creativity and no injuries anyway.