The Daily Grind - Chapter 165 (Patreon)

Time for some shenanigans!  

_____

“I walk, I talk, I shop, I sneeze.  I’m gonna be a fireman when the floods roll back.  There’s trees in the desert, since you moved out, and I don’t sleep on a bed of bones.”  - Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Restless -

_____

James arrived in Townton with a snap of air, replacing the pleasantly warm and dry end of summer afternoon with a hot and muggy atmosphere so abruptly he felt like he’d been dunked in it.

“Welcome to Tennessee, sir.”  A young man greeted him as he stepped off the marked off telepad arrival platform.  James had actually *called ahead* instead of just warping in unannounced, and apparently that was enough to get people calling him sir.  He should stop doing that at once.

“First of all, I don’t actually hold a rank, you don’t need to call me sir.”  James told the kid.  “In fact, let me cut you off before you argue with me.  I would *prefer* it if you didn’t call me sir, alright?”

“...Alright.”  The kid relented.  “JP wanted me to let you know that he’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Thanks.  How’s this place going?  You doing alright here? I don’t think we’ve met.  I’m James.”  James offered a handshake.

‘This place’ was, if you just teleported into the middle of it and didn’t ask too many questions, a fairly open plan office floor.  Lot of desks, many of them looking like they were bought in bulk for cheap in the 90s, lots of abandoned paperwork, windows with Venetian blinds.  James would have been willing to believe he’d blipped back in time, if he didn’t know better, and couldn’t see the damage from the Mechanic’s assault that hadn’t been repaired.

If you were paying attention, though, it wouldn’t take long to notice that this place had a lot of unconventional memorabilia on the desks. Maybe a few more security lockers than normal.  Informative posters on the walls that went into a weird amount of detail on things like traffic stops.

You know, the kind of stuff you’d find in a police station.

“We’re doing alright.”  The kid answered.  “I’m Miles.  And we’ve met before.”

“Have we?”  James felt a sense of both guilt for not remembering, and frustration at his brain’s ongoing breakdown.  “Dammit.”

Miles gave a nervous grin.  “Sort of.  I mean, I’ve seen you around.  You answered some questions about camracondas.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway. It’s going… not bad.  We’re making progress.  I am *not* the right person for this job though.”

“Oh?  Whyzat?”  James said, realizing suddenly that he’d been standing waiting for an elevator in a building that didn’t have working electricity for two minutes.  “...Also follow me.”  He said, striking out toward the stairs.

“Everything Nate’s been teaching me has been about information gathering.  Following, ditching people following me, how to read documents, reading body language, memory tricks, that sorta thing.  And now all of a sudden I’m supposed to be some kinda guard? It’s weird.  I’ve never even shot a gun before, man.  I feel like I’m here by accident.”  Miles admitted as he followed James, their shoes echoing on the old concrete steps up to the second floor.

James nodded as he pushed the stairwell door open.  “Yeah, you think that because you’re good at noticing things.”  He said.  “Honestly?  You’re here because we haven’t gotten everyone assigned after the rescue, and we need extra hands to do cleanup, and this is a city built for *twenty thousand people* and we’ve got, like, *five*.”  He sighed, and looked up and down the hallway before Miles pointed in the direction that JP was, nodding thanks and starting to walk before continuing.  “I dunno why JP ended up in charge, but I’m guessing he called everyone in just because he trusts you guys to be problem solvers, you know?”

“Yeah, but there’s monsters out there.”  Miles pointed out in a strained voice.

James hissed out a breath through clenched teeth.  “Yeeeeah, I’m not saying JP’s logic is sound.”  He admitted.  “Just that he’s working with what we’ve got.”

“Wait, he trusts us?”  Miles narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t tell him I told you.  But yeah.”

“...Why?!”

James chuckled. “I mean, he did go out of his way to find people who were clever.  You don’t need to be able to punch out a monster to be a valuable asset.  Like, shit, of the people in the Order we have… fooooour? Maybe five fighters? I mean actual for real fighters, not just survivors of things or exploratory delvers who sometimes get in fights.”

“...Still haven’t gotten to go on a delve.”  Miles grumbled.

“Really? That’s weird.”  James commented.  “Well, once we get a better handle on this place, we’re going to start making regular runs of Route Horizon.  So get in on that!”  He clapped Miles on the shoulder as they came to a closed door that read ‘Mark Matthews, Chief of Police’ across the frosted glass.  “The magic is pretty fun, though it’s actually annoyingly hard to recharge when you teleport everywhere.”

“There’s a dungeon here?”  Miles’ eyes lit up.

James just grinned at him, and rapped on the office door before pushing it open.

“If you’ve got another terrible thing to report, fuck off!”  JP’s voice sounded both bitter and overwhelmed in equal measure as James slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I mean, I’m here, so that’s pretty terrible.”  James announced himself.

JP looked up from the map spread across the desk he was slumped over, and for just a second, James saw a bit of how his friend used to be.  Excited, like he was happy to see him, and like he had ‘a plan’, with air quotes and heavily implied sense of foreboding.

Then it was gone, and JP just looked tired, like he was unwillingly growing a goatee, and pissed off.  Mostly at himself.  “James.”  He said, the word still laced with guilt.  “Welcome to my personal hell.”

“Okay, now *that’s* just being melodramatic.”  James said, infusing his words with as much levity as he could.  “I’ve gotta ask, why are you in charge here?”

“Nate was busy.”  JP said.  “With… uh… nothing.  And so I got stuck with it.  And now people just keep reporting to me.”

“Yeah, that happens.”  James nodded, looking around for a seat, and finding only the overturned remains of an office.  Documents and mementos had been tossed wholesale into a tall cardboard box in the corner, the shelves now held boxes of granola bars, and JP’s armor, and the otherwise bare walls had roughly sketched out agendas and schedules tacked up on them.  He knelt down, and braced two stacks of fancy looking legal textbooks against the wall, settling carefully onto them as a makeshift seat.  “So.  What’s going on?”

JP eyed him warily.  “Are you sure you’re okay to be here?”  He asked.

“I’m fine.”  James said.  “We copied a bunch of the broken bone orbs a couple days ago, and I took enough that even with the diminishing returns, my hand is fine again.”  He spread his fingers for emphasis with a smile.  “I think I’m at, like, four total preventions per year? I mean… not *this* year, obviously.  Used em all up already.  But I’m good.”

“Your face still looks like you got set on fire.”

“Yeah, thanks, I know.”  James rolled his eyes.  “It’ll heal.  So tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m just worried, and don’t want to…”

“JP.”  James put on his serious voice.  “I’m not a fucking idiot.  You’ve been taking on stuff like this constantly, and avoiding me as much as possible. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not talking to me, and now you’re actively trying to refuse help with the… checks notes… city wide reclamation project.  Where your staff is *twelve people*.”

“Thirteen.  El’s here.”  JP told him.

“Oh well in *that* case!”  James threw his hands up.  “Can you please get over the fact that you nearly killed me and just tell me what you need help with?!”

JP stared at him, face rippling between dull exhaustion and mild anger, before settling on bemusement.  “What a weird sentence.”  He breathed out.

“Welcome to our lives.”  James said.  “Sorry, I guess.  Kinda my fault.”

“Yeah, no shit.”  JP pushed himself up, and stretched.  “Okay.  What do you wanna know?”

“Progress, issues, and logistics.”  James said simply, leaning back and tapping his head against the hard office wall.

JP nodded.  “Alright.  Progress.”  He sighed.  “With Dave and Pen doing flyovers, and with the totems Momo gave us, we’re basically positive there aren’t survivors left within city limits.”  JP said.  “So, we’re moving to containment, and cleanup.  The main problem is the necroads, which are-“ James held up a hand, interrupting him.  JP just sighed.  “Necroad.  The term for the bone and asphalt soldier creatures.  I apparently don’t have clearance to read the fucking manual, but according to Reed, they shouldn’t be able to multiply.  The old man made them using bones with something called the ‘benediction of the pavement’, and that needed dungeon power to do.  So, what we’ve got is what we’ve got to deal with, and that’s a relief.  But there’s still a ton of them out there, and holy shit are they fast.”  He turned to go look out the window at the parking lot, and James noticed that he was limping.

“You alright?”  James asked

“Hm?”  JP looked back.  “Oh.  Fine.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway.  They haven’t been actively hunting.  But they do wander around sometimes at random, and they will try to kill anything living.  Dave’s been saving raccoons, who are, let me tell you, not super grateful.”

“So, containment?”

“Oh, yeah.  They need the road.  Can’t be too far from it, as near as we can tell.  Miles is actually useful, despite what he’ll tell you, for figuring shit like that out.  We can move safely through the woods around here if we need to.”  JP turned back to look at his map.  “This city has one actual road out of it to the highway that runs nearby, which is fucking great, because the Last Line wrecked it, and in a way that seems to have severed it from maps too, so… you know.”

James winced.  “That’s kind of horrifying.  You know, I’ve never been clear on how some infomorphs or, like, general effects like that work.  Is he just targeting *bureaucracy*?  Or the recorded data? Can that hit memories too? It’s really unsettling.”  He noticed JP giving him an irritated look and laughed.  “Sorry, sorry.  Existential dread later, carry on, please.”

“*So*,” JP continued, “they can’t leave the city, and we mostly just try to pick them off when they’re dormant.  There should only be about five thousand left.  Which… uhhhh… James, there’s twelve of us.”

“Thirteen.”  James reminded him.  “El’s here, I’ve heard.”

“Shut the fuck up.”  JP gave him a welcome grin.  “Alright, moving on.  Problems.  Dungeon’s not making waves, which is good.  The only real problem is the necroads, and the threat of anyone figuring out what’s going on here.  There’s still, like, shipping routes that are supposed to go through this place.  At some point, very soon, someone is going to come to investigate.  Memeplex or not, you can’t just disappear a city.”  He shrugged.  “So we’re against the clock, and I honestly don’t think we can move fast enough to make it look like we own this place before it becomes an issue.  Do you mind a suggestion?”

“Sure, lay it on me.”  James nodded, groaning as he stood to also go look at the map that JP had stuck a lot of little colored pins in.

JP set his mouth in a line.  “We deal with the monsters, and we leave.”  He said.  Seeing James’ raised eyebrows, he elaborated, but didn’t back down.  “I’m not saying we abandon the dungeon, or don’t take as much wealth out of here as we can.  But I think we should make it our goal to secure this place and deal with the biggest secrecy risk, and then not push our luck.”

“...But… territory…” James gave a puppy dog whine.

“Dude, you can’t just claim a chunk of Tennessee as the spoils of war.”

“Why not? That’s how the US got it in the first place.”

“...Is that…” JP cocked an eyebrow.  “Is that true? I’ll believe you, I just need to know if you’re serious.”

James tilted his head.  “I actually don’t know exact details, but technically most of the US is the spoils of conquest.”  He shook his head.  “Honestly, I don’t think we *need* our own city.  I just *want* our own city.  If nothing else, than as societal proof of concept.  But I am willing to accept your recommendation.”  He sighed.  “Alright.  Other concerns?”

Pivoting back to the situation at hand, JP shrugged.  “We’re good on food, we’ve been drawing truckloads of stuff from the closest grocer.  Actually, the fact that a lot of stuff is going to rot is a big problem.  If you could get a blue or green that could handle that, it’d be great.  Um… power?  We’ve got some generators here, which is part of why we’re using this building and not some random house, but the power is out across the city.  Water’s still good.  We’re in the water district for the county, and I think the memeplex is working in our favor for once, since no one knows we’re here to shut off the water to.”

“So what do you need most?”  James asked.

“High caliber guns that can shoot through street.”  JP said quickly.  “Or a rocket launcher?  You know how you can technically cut a necroad in half if you use this?”  He tapped the ornate earring he was wearing.  “Well, you get one of those a day, and I’m out.  And it doesn’t work on guns.  And cutting something in half involves getting close to it.”  JP looked away and took a deep breath.  “We’ve got both the rifles that are bound to gun bangles, and I already checked, so I know we don’t have more bind charges ready to go.  Which sucks, because did you know this police station had grenade launchers in it?   I mean, it still does, but it used to, also.”  He paused for James to laugh.  “But again, no charges for the bangles to reload them.  So we’re limited, and also the police don’t just have frag grenades sitting around.  But just… I dunno, can you rob a National Guard base for me?”

“Probably not.”  James admitted.  “I mean, actually, probably yes?  But I’m not gonna.  I’ll talk to… um…” He trailed off.  “Do we have a gun guy, anymore?”  James asked sadly.

“Nate.”  JP told him.  “Who is busy.”

“...Did you send Nate to rob a National Guard armory?”

“I didn’t send him anywhere.”  JP said.

James gave his friend a *look*.  “Great deflection.  You know I’m getting wise to your ways?”

“Not wise enough.”  JP replied.  “Alright then. More people.  There’s a *lot* of work to do, actually.  Keeping things from burning down, dealing with cleanup, funeral rites where possible, I need more people.  But, like… I’ve been to the Lair.  I already know that we don’t have a lot of people available.  Response ate up all our good knights.”

“Hm.”  James said.  “Okay.  I have a question for you.”

“I don’t think I’d be a good fit in your polycule.”  JP told him.  “I’m probably straight.”

“...Okay, ow.”  James felt a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto relax just a bit, as JP slipped back into old habits of teasing.  “No, my question was going to… sorry, probably?”

“Ask your question.”

“How comfortable would you be with… problems?”  James asked, suspiciously.

JP glared at him.  “Oh, well, when you say it with the ominous tone and that stupid smirk, how could I say no?”  He demanded.  “Sure, bring it on.  I’ve got so many problems, maybe if you bring me more, they’ll cancel out!”

“Great.”  James told him.  “I’ll be back later tonight.”  He pushed off the desk and stepped back, but met JP’s eyes before turning away and leaving.  “Hey.  Are we good?”

JP sighed, the mood in the room dampening instantly.  “I have no idea.”  He said.  “I don’t even know what *I* am anymore.  I’ve spent almost a week being a *field commander*.  James, I missed an invitation to a gala to patrol a perimeter.  I skipped poker night to organize search shifts.  Is this… is this who I am now?”  JP looked at James, and James suddenly realized the question wasn’t rhetorical.  There was a note of urgency in JP’s voice, something that said that he really was asking for someone else to help him define himself.

“You know,” James told him, “you’re allowed to be the kind of person who’s annoyed at missing poker night.”  He tried to offer JP a grin.  “You can also be the kind of person that everyone looks up to, because they’re a good leader.  Even if they… sorry, a *gala*?”

“It was an end of summer soiree.”  JP said sadly.  “The opportunities…”

“Do we just not pay you enough?”  James asked, perplexed.

“Not that kind of opportunity, James.”  JP shook his head, staring off into the middle distance.  “You wouldn’t understand.  You’re… domestic, now.”

“Are you… no, I refuse to understand you.”  James decided.  “Look.  I’m not gonna tell you who you are, aside from ‘a little weird, but also my friend’.  You’re on your own there.  But you *are* my friend, and you don’t need to camp out in a police station fighting a really weird zombie apocalypse to prove it.”

“Hm.”  JP made a noncommittal noise.  Then he looked back down at the desk, covered in map markers and granola bar wrappers.  “Well, I’ll do it anyway.  I’ve got momentum now.”  He said.  “Yeah, we’re good.  Get out of here.  Bring me more problems.”

“See you tonight.”  James said, cracking the door just enough to slip out, and giving JP an intentionally ominous cackle as he left.  “My smirk’s not stupid…” he muttered to himself as he shut the door behind him.

Then he paused in the hall, pretending he didn’t notice Miles casually loitering, pretending to be checking his phone, about exactly as far away as someone could reasonably get if they had a few seconds of warning before the door they were eavesdropping on was opened.  James shook his head, and pulled out his telepad, writing the landing point in the Lair on it, and ripping the page off.

He left Tennessee the same way he entered, taking with him only some information, a terrible idea, and an appreciation for the lack of humidity at his destination.

_____

James snapped into existence again in the empty bathroom of a hotel room.  He hadn’t known exactly where Karen had been keeping the survivors of Townton until he’d needed to ask so he could talk to some of them, but now that he was here, he had to admit that the Crown Royale was a pretty dang nice place.

For all that Karen talked a big game about budgets and spending, she still made sure that Recovery did their job with some style.

Cutting off his admiring of the glitz in the bathroom, James adjusted his collar and walked out into the hotel suite itself.

A set of panicked yells was what greeted him as he closed the door behind himself, as first one person noticed, and then the rest joined in.  Four people shouting, and one person by the door who seemed completely unfazed behind his sunglasses.

“Yes, hi.”  James said, mostly just chewing the scenery until they quieted down.  “You cannot be this surprised by this.”

“Where did you come from!?”  A woman yelled, crouching behind one of the generously sized beds.  One of the room’s other residents, a young man who James was *pretty* sure was named Kirk, had interposed himself between James and the others.

“I came from the bathroom.”  James said, like that was obvious.  “Also calm down.  I’m not here to hurt anyone.”  He grabbed one of the padded chairs around the room’s small breakfast table, and plopped into it, kicking his feet up onto the end of one of the beds.  “Hey Matt.”  He said, addressing the nonplussed guy by the door.  “How’s it been?”

“Boring.”  Matt replied.  He was standing in a relaxed posture, but the way he carried himself just made him feel like an implicit threat.  James didn’t much care for the Response member, mostly because of that vibe of violence he carried with him.  Also partly because he seemed to be one of those people that thought wearing sunglasses all the time made them look tough.  But he was one of the people who were working as rotating guards for this group, and he was effective at it.

James gave him a sympathetic nod.  “Well, I’m here to fix that.”  He said, and turned back to the other four.  “How have *you* been?”  He asked the group of cultists.

Well, ex-cultists.

These four people, seemingly both the youngest and oldest pair that were part of the cult, were the last remaining members of the Mechanic’s cadre of minions.  There had been fifteen of them, initially.  Well, initially being when James and Anesh rolled into town.  Two of them had failed to apprehend James, due to an Alanna-shaped miscalculation, and had been murdered by the Mechanic when they’d reported back.  Four of them had fled from El’s home where they’d been held prisoner during the last fight, and had been promptly killed by the rampant asphalt.  One had killed himself afterward.

And four had chosen the option that James was *extraordinarily* uncomfortable with, taking the Order up on the offer of Planner’s services.  The infomorph surgically taking memories from them, assisted by their own desires, and wiring into their minds small personal routines, and leaving them unaware of their own involvement, their own culpability.  Just another group of survivors of a traumatic event, albeit ones who would get over it a little faster than the others.

That left four ex-cultists, who still hadn’t decided what they were going to do.  And for James, they were the least surprising people to be in that position.  Because all four of these people were the ones who hadn’t really understood what the Mechanic’s plans were, who weren’t in it for profit or power, and who had just wanted to protect and explore the dungeon that the Order had since named Route Horizon.  The others had been cruel or greedy, and for those that had chosen the mindwipe, James felt absolutely justified in asking for removal of their worse habits as payment.  Along with the actual ownership of any of the properties they’d acquired, which did actually leave the Order as legal owner of a big chunk of Townton.  But these four were just people who had tried to help, and been misled.

Not that they were innocent.  They had fucked up *big time*, and they’d still tried to do good in that “the ends justify the means” sort of way that left a sour taste in James mouth.

In his mind, the end was the means.  When you got to the end of the road, you weren’t going to end up anywhere except where the road had been going.  And if your path to victory involved kidnapping children and murdering witnesses?  Well, you were always headed somewhere evil, no matter what you lied to yourself about.

So it wasn’t a surprise when none of them answered James immediately.

“We’re fine.”  The older woman, Dorothy, said, crossing her arms and meeting his eyes with a steely gaze.  “Or have your guards not reported that to you?”

“First off, no.”  James answered.  “We’re obviously keeping you under guard, but… think of it like patient confidentiality.  Matt won’t tell me anything about what you’ve been doing, if it’s not directly a security risk.”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the guard.  “Also, fine?  Really.”  He crossed his own arms in response.

The two stared at each other for a long moment, before the others cut in.

“Tell him.”  Kirk said quietly to the girl with short brown hair and a grim expression sitting on the bed next to him.

James shifted his attention, and the girl took a breath to steady herself.  “Not fine.”  She said.  “We’re all having nightmares.  Even-“ she flipped off the older woman, “-even Dorothy, yeah!  We’re fucking… we’re… none of us are fine!”

“Everyone we thought we could trust is either dead or gone.”  Kirk said with an exhausted, resigned voice.  “And… is that our fault?  God, we know what happened.  To Townton.  To… to…”  His words trailed off, and he shook his head.

Now, Dorothy uncrossed her arms, and turned away from James to move to sit next to her companion, pulling the young man into a reassuring hug.  She looked back, and in a less hostile voice, told him, “We’ve been informed what the death toll was.”  She shook her head. “And we are partially responsible for that.  Your ‘offer’ of forgetting is generous, but…”

“But we’d forget.”  The other man in the room said with a shrug, walking past James to idly rummage through the suite’s kitchen fridge.  This hotel room was way nicer than James expected; it was basically a small apartment, and the rotund man seemed happy to raid whatever the Order had stocked their food supply with.  “We’d forget everything.”

“We’ve talked about it.”  The younger girl said.  “With the others, too, before they…”

“They were cowards.”  Dorothy spat out.

“They were afraid.”  Kirk said.  “Mostly of you, actually.” He nodded to James.

“Oh?”  James gave small encouragement to keep talking.

Kirk elaborated.  “Yeah.  They figured it was just a matter of time before you killed us for what we did.”  He still didn’t have any emotion in his voice except quiet resignation.  “This place does kinda feel like a ‘last meal’ sort of deal.  And then you’d get our globes, too.”

“Sorry, what?”  James raised his eyebrows.

The others gave either shocked, or furious looks, directed at both James and Kirk equally, as Kirk just shrugged.  “What we call the place where the spell map bits go.  We’ve all got ‘em.  And… we know they can be taken if we die.  So they just figured.”

“Huh.”  James said.  “That’s gonna be weird for the people who took the memory wipe option.”  He mused.  “Awkward.  Not gonna kill you, in case you were wondering.”  James sighed, and pushed himself up to his feet, wincing at how sore his soles still were.  “Okay, so, here’s the deal,” he said as he started pacing, “we have no idea what to do with you.”

“Excuse me?”  From her expression, this was apparently the most surprisng thing Dorothy had heard in the last sixty years.  Which was impressive, given that she was a wizard.

“We won’t kill you.  Ideologically, we’re opposed to punitive incarceration.  But we lack the resources to really commit to some kind of rehabilitation and therapy arrangement.  Not that I think you actually need that; it seems like you’re here and not out there because you *already* feel guilt.  But you *really* fucked up, and without actually knowing what you can all do, letting any of you just wander off seems like a recipe for potential disaster.”  James looked around, meeting their eyes with the exception of the guy who was more focused on making his sandwich.  “So, let me ask you something.  What do you want?”

“Time machine.”  Sandwich guy said without hesitation.  Then he waited a beat, and asked.  “Do you have one? I’ll take that if you do.”

“Sorry, no dice.”  James said.  “Anyone else?”

Dorothy stood and started pacing herself.  “What do we want? We just want to leave.”  She snapped at him.

“That’s not what I want.”  Kirk cut in.  James turned to him with a cocked eyebrow.  “I want to go back.”  He said.  “Back to the Horizon.  All… all I wanted was to keep it safe.  But that’s done.  So now I want to go back.  Explore the roads, find new spells, maybe die.” He shrugged at that like dying was just another part of a road trip.  “Do you know how it feels?”  The kid asked James, seemingly honestly.  “To have the whole world go back to being boring?”

“I have depression, and also access to an infinite office full of living staplers and cubicle towers.”  James responded.

Kirk nodded at him.  “Then you get it.  That’s what I want.  I want to go *back*.”

“I just want the nightmares to stop.”  The other girl said.  “But I don’t want to forget.  Kirk’s right, it’s too special.  And also… I wanna try to help.  Undo what we did.  I know we can’t, but I…” She sniffed, and blinked tears out of her eyes.

James wasn’t sure if she was as completely honest as Kirk was being.  He should have brought Alanna.  Behind him, sandwich guy spoke around a mouthful of food, adding, “I wouldn’t mind unfucking some of our mess.  But I also won’t forget.  My fuckups are *mine*, you hear me?”

“Alright.”  James said.  “I’ve got a deal for you then.”  They looked at him, expectantly and apprehensively in equal measure.  “You work for us.”  He said.  “We’ve got a whole city, most of which we own, that needs cleanup, and security.  And if you were honest with us, then I know at least two of you have spells that could help.  After that, well… you can stay with us if you like.  We’re going back into the Horizon, and other places like it.  We’re going to save people.  And if you fit with us, and want to join, you can be part of that future.  Otherwise, you can consider your penance done, and make your own way in the world.  We won’t stop you, unless you start hurting people again.”

“Who *are* you?”  The girl that James was aware could drive a car through a building without issue asked.  “Are you the government? No one’s actually *told us*.  You keep saying ‘us’, and, like, what is that?”

“Oh!”  James grinned.  “We’re the Order of Endless Rooms.”  He told them.  “We’re like you.  But a little bigger, and a little cooler.  And no, we aren’t the government.  Well, *yet*.”

“Yet?”

“Yet.”  James confirmed.  “So.  What do you say?  You in? I know Matt over there is itching for you to say yes just so he can go get in a fight with one of the monsters still hanging out in Townton.”

The ex cultists shared looks with each other before their more matronly member spoke.  “We’ll need some time to-“ “Yes” “Yeah” “Sounds good to me.”  Dorothy looked at the others with a frustrated glare.  “Okay, I suppose they don’t need time to talk about it at all.”  She said.  “I’ll give you my answer after *some* consideration.”

“Alright, cool.”  James said, tossing Matt a telepad with an address already on it.  “Whenever you’re ready, you can get out of here.  No rush.  Now, I’ve gotta get going.  Does anyone have any questions before I blip out?”

“Why?”  Kirk asked.

“Why... what?”

“Why even bother with us?  Why… this? Why forgiveness, or whatever you’re offering?”

“Oh.  Easy.”  James said.  “Because everyone keeps trying it the other way, and the world they’ve built doing that *fucking honks*.  So we’re gonna do something new.  So yeah, you’ve got a debt to pay back.  But *you* already know that.  I’m just… here to help you do it.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway.  I’m out.  Good luck.”  He said.  And then, with a flick of his wrist, he dropped a telepad into his hand, and tore the page, blinking out of the hotel room.

Karen would handle the checkout.  James still had more people to catapult into the mess that this whole road trip had delivered to the Order.

_____

There was a secret that James had kept from his friends for a long time.  Even the people who were so close to him that he called them family, who shared his bed and made him breakfast, were kept in the dark about a crucial part of him.  And especially from Sarah, and *doubly* especially from the massive white ball of excitement named Auberdeen that Sarah had adopted into their shared apartment.

James was allergic to basically anything with fur.

As he popped into the cracked asphalt of the parking lot under the shade of an oak tree that was probably older than he was, James considered that he might be the wrong person for this job.  But, he was available, and this was technically his ‘job’ anyway.

A small silver bell hanging off the door by a dog collar jingled cheerfully as he pushed open the glass door to the front reception area of the vet’s office.  Instantly, the smell of a building made for cats and dogs hit him like a wall.  Alongside, almost paradoxically, the clean smell of disinfectant and that weird tang that he always associated with hospitals.  Within seconds, a golden retriever with a tail wagging fast enough to generate lift had plowed into James’ legs and demanded affection, which James was only too happy to give, scratching behind the ears and making a mental note to wash his hands later.

There were actually a few animals in the lobby, a couple other smaller dogs and a pair of cats, one of which was in a carrier on the linoleum counter.   all but the dog that had come up to greet James were napping in a fenced pen in the corner, which took up more of the room than the chairs for waiting humans.  And after the golden retriever had gotten its pets and sufficiently smelled James, it headed back into the pen through the open gate, and lay down in the middle of the floor, forming a line of fur with the other sleeping animals across the middle of the penned in area.

He looked at the napping animals for a while with a concerned frown on his face, and the black cat in the middle of the line looked back at him with feline contempt.  This staring contest could have gone on longer, but a voice broke him out of his focus.  “Hi there!  I’m Dr. Marris, what brings you in today?”

James jumped a little, and turned to see a short woman with a messy black ponytail that looked *suspiciously* like his own hair.  She was wearing a white coat with a ton of pockets over a set of scrubs, and giving James the kind of smile that you tended to only get on people who had already decided the day was going to be fun.

“Hey there!”  James matched her grin, and offered a handshake.  “I’m James Lyle.  I owe you a few favors.  Or a *lot* of money.”  He said.

She gave him a confused look as she shook his hand.  “Oh, are you here for an owner’s account?  My desk person isn’t in today, but we can make an appointment…”

“Oh, no, sorry.”  James bit his lip sheepishly.  “To be clear about this, I’m here about the giant invisible panther sleeping in the corner of the room.”  He nodded toward the animal pen. “Which, not gonna lie, is actually making me super nervous, but I assume you know what you’re doing?”

Dr. Marris froze, tensing up and giving him an appraising look as she took a short step backward behind the desk.  In the corner of the room, James suddenly because *very* aware of the low rumbling growl coming from nowhere.  And also the other growls coming from the dogs.  “And who are you from?”  She asked, cautiously.

“Order of Endless Rooms.”  James answered.  “A name I am still getting used to being real, much as I’ve always dreamed of talking like a character from a fantasy novel.”  He kept his smile in place, as cool and disarming as he could be.  “You’ve helped us out at least three times.  I know you patched up Deb when she got hurt.  She said you were aware of the weirdness we had going on.  Also, you know… giant cat.”

“Oh, it’s *you*!”  The vet let out a relieved sigh.  “I’m sorry!  I’ve been panicking for a week about someone trying to kill me for knowing too much!”

“I am… hm.  I don’t think that’s a thing that happens?”  James was suddenly uncertain.  “That said, you’ve got a hell of a bodyguard, Dr. Marris.”  He nodded toward the invisible cat again.

She snorted.  “Amy.  Please.  And I’d *hope* I’ve bought some loyalty, given how much it costs in cat food.”  The veterinarian shook her head.  “He eats.  A *lot*.”  She met James’ eyes.  “A *loooooot*.”

James chuckled.  “Well, on behalf of all the random local wildlife that was not eaten, thank you.  And also seriously, thank you for this in general.  I don’t think many people would do more than scream and run from something like this, much less take care of it.”

“Yeah, well.”  She shrugged.  “I was already kind of primed for it. Um…” Amy looked at him with some worry.  “Are you here to take him back?”

“The cat?  Oh, uh…” James cleared his throat.  “Would you be shocked to learn that we don’t really have a place to keep something like that?”

“Yes.”

“Because we… wait, really?”

“Yeah?  Don’t you have, like, a magic farm or something?”

“I… have no idea why you would think that.”  James admitted.  “We have a small industrial-commercial flex space, that has too many basements and not enough room for the increasing number of weird members our Order has.”  He told her.  “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to keep-“

“Yes!”  Amy yelped, like if she took too long James might rescind the offer.

“...okay, well good.”  James nodded, and laughed.

Across the room, the line of sleeping dogs shifted as the cat moved.  “Yeah, we’re talking about you!”  Dr. Marris called over, in that kind of sing-song voice that humans almost instantly reverted to when speaking to pets.  “Are you behaving yourself?”

A small pure black cat padded out the gate of the animal pen, making a strange stepping motion as it did so.  Anyone not paying attention wouldn’t have noticed the untouched fence to the side wobble as the cat passed by, something brushing against its top end.

The vet came out from around the counter, and walked over to the cat.  But rather than bending down to pet it, she instead extended an arm to the air overhead and to the right, and James watched as her body shifted while the small cat below bobbed its head like it was nuzzling something.

“That’s kind of adorable.”  James said.  “And also terrifying?”

“Welcome to my life!”  Amy told him.  “So… uh… what do I do?”

“Like, in what way?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about the care and feeding of magical invisible tigers.”  She admitted with a roll of her eyes.  “Also, am I even allowed to keep him?  Is he intelligent?  Can you help with the times when he wants to be *really* active?  I have so many questions!”

James laughed, idly scratching his nose.  “Oh yeah, welcome to *my* life.”  He shot back at her.  “To all of those? Your guess is as good as ours.  Although we can help you cover food costs.  We do actually owe you a lot of money.”  James stepped over near her, and waited with a little anxiety that he tried to quash as the cat turned, and an unseen huff of breath moved his shirt while he was curiously sniffed.  “Actually, we *do* have a farm-esque plot of land, and we can arrange transport there and back whenever you need space for him to adventure around.”

“That would be *great*.”  Amy sighed.

“Actually, question.”  James said.  “Do you know if he likes other people?”

“He’s actually *really* friendly.”  Marris said.  “He *knows* he’s not supposed to bother people who come in, but it’s hard sometimes.  I think a lot of people think the building is haunted.”

James nodded.  “Okay.  Well, I ask because, we’ve got another big space, too.  Actually, we’ve got a city?”

“A… sure, okay.”  The woman just rolled her eyes and accepted it, like she’d gotten used to just believing the bizarre and moving forward.

“I bring this up, because we’re doing some recovery work there.”  James told her.  “And a cat that can move at thirty miles an hour and topple cars would actually be a valuable helper, in terms of providing security while we’re there?”  He cleared his throat.  “If you were interested in taking a vacation.”

Dr. Marris eyed him like he’d grown an extra head.  “Are you offering me a job?”

“Technically, I was going to do that later.  And it’s less a job and more a… calling?  Affiliation? What are we.  I have no idea.”

“I have a job.”  Dr. Marris told him.  “I *like* my job.”

“I admit, hiring people who aren’t currently unemployed or haven’t recently lost everything in their lives is a *little* weird for me.”  James said.  “But we’re not asking you to give up your current job.”  He shrugged as he tried to explain.  “We want you to be independent from us, but know that you can rely on us for help.  We like what you’re doing, both mundane and magical, and we want to help you keep doing it.  We’ve got some resources we can share.  And mostly, all we ask is that if someone needs help, you give it.”

Amy cocked her hands to her hips and glowered at him.  “I already would have done that.”  She protested.

“And now we’ll give you very specific superpowers to do use while doing it!”  James grinned at her.  “Also you can make friends with a giant snake-thing made out of cables.  Is that a plus?”

“...Yes.”

“Look,” James said, still smiling but shifting his tone away from joking.  “I’m trying to solve two problems at once here.  If you’re not interested, that’s alright.  We will still help with upkeep on the cat… does the cat have a name?”  He asked, suddenly realizing he hadn’t checked.

“Romulus.”

“Because… of…” James racked his brain.  “I thought Rome had a wolf-based creation myth?  Or is it something else?”

“Because of Star Trek.  He’s cloaked!”  The doctor seemed a little too pleased with herself.

“I actually haven’t seen much Star Trek.”  James admitted, ducking his head.  “Don’t tell anyone, I’ll lose my nerd card.”  He laughed, and she joined in before he continued trying to be serious.  “But really.  We’ll still help.  No strings attached.  But *also*, if you want a part time role hanging out with weird creatures, exploring strange places, and assisting with the backbreaking labor of cleaning up an abandoned city?  That’s on the table.  And it’d be kind of a big personal favor to me, if one of the people I sent JP’s way today was someone we already know we can rely on.”

“I’m not sure why you think that’s a compelling sales pitch.  Also, JP?”

“He’s in charge of the city thing.”

“Ah.”  Amy nodded, running both hands through the unseen fur of the cat which had, judging by the position of the smaller feline projection, laid down and rolled slightly onto her legs.  “How dangerous is it?”

“Pretty dangerous, probably.”  James admitted.  “That’s part of why I’d like a six hundred pound panther shaped security blanket.”

“He’s actually closer to nineteen hundred pounds.”  The veterinarian replied.  “I had to lie to a truck weigh station to get that checked.”  She paused in her petting to think, but resumed when she got a light bump from that cat’s muzzle to her chest.  “This is kind of a lot, all at once.”  Amy admitted.

James nodded.  “There’s no rush, honestly.  But hey, here’s my number, and you can let me know when you’ve decided.”  He reached out tentatively and pet at what he hoped was the right patch of air, being rewarded by the feeling of warm fur under his fingers and a rumbling purr that felt like a car idling.  “Anyway.  I’ve gotta go.  Oh!  If you could get your expenses written up, that’d be helpful.  We can get on paying that off for you, either way.”

“Thanks.”  Amy said.  “It really is a *lot* of cat food.  And steak.  And do you know how much pet shampoo it takes for something this size?”

“...A lot?”  James ventured.

She nodded vigorously.  “A lot, yes!  But yes, I will call you when I decide.  I think I just need some time.”

James nodded and smiled.  “Alright.  Well, I’ve gotta get going.  Lot of meetings today. Nice to meet you, though!  And thanks again for taking care of Rom here.”

“Anytime.”  She smiled back.

James reached into his coat and pulled out his telepad, making sure the address to the Lair was correct before pulling of the page and vanishing out of the lobby of the small veterinary.  He arrived on the telepad platform with a snap of air, stepping off quickly to make sure he was out of the way, and moving past the Response team that had just returned themselves to head upstairs.

He had just pushed open the door to the Lair’s common area when his phone rang.  James didn’t recognize the number, so he answered with a curious “Hello?”

“If you told me you could teleport, I probably would have said yes sooner.”  Amy Marris’ belligerent voice told him.

James grinned.  “Alright.  Pack your bags and clear your calendar.”  He said.  “There’s a lot to do, and we are *so* understaffed.”

_____

As James left the Response basement and telepad landing platform for the third time that day, he passed Alanna in the stairwell.

After a quick peck of a kiss that got applause from the people they were blocking the way of, Alanna pivoted and walked with James back up to the common area.

“How’ve ya been settling back in?”  James asked her as she grabbed a reusable water bottle from the communal fridge, offering him one as well.

Alanna gulped down half the bottle before giving a puff of an “ah” and flipping the cap back on.  “It’s been not even two days.”  She told him with a small amount of snark.

“What? No.”  James narrowed his eyes, unsure if he was being messed with, going insane, or caught in a time loop again.  “It’s been, like, two weeks almost?  We took a few days to recover, did the Office on… around... Tuesday, then the Sewer on… Friday?  What day is it?”

“Oh.”  Alanna counted off on her fingers.  “Then I guess I’m settling in well?  Because I just kinda got caught up doing stuff.  What’re you doing today?”

“I’m rounding up a lot of the people who know about us, rapidly recruiting, smooshing them together into a makeshift crew of vagabonds, and handing them to JP to be both his problem and a solution to his problem.”  James said, all in one breath.

“...Why not just… recruit… new people?”  Alanna asked.

“Partially because we’re doing that anyway, I think I’m actually supposed to start interviews tomorrow, but also because new people have an adjustment period, and people who are already exposed to the weird stuff don’t need to spend a month coming to terms with the existence of camracondas.”

Alanna nodded. “The camracondas are kind of a big deal around here, huh?”

“I mean…” James shrugged.  “They’re our friends?  I’ve gotten so used to them just being part of our lives, it’s honestly weird to me when I go to other places and there aren’t any.”  He thought about it for a second.  “I should see if any of them want to go to Townton.  I don’t think I saw any while I was there? But then, I mostly just went in a straight line to harass JP, and then left.”

“Do you ever worry that teleporting everywhere loses you some of the value of travel?”  Alanna asked him curiously, as she sipped her water.

James fidgeted with the cap of his own water bottle, leaning against the counter and watching some of their summer interns setting up a few tables for a mock debate taking place later tonight.  “I mean, I did just try to take a road trip.”  He said.  “And if I’d teleported…” He swallowed.  Hard.  “If we’d just blinked there, we might have been in time to keep a few thousand people alive.  So maybe travel isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I guess.”  Alanna said, staring at the ground.  “But then you would have missed me, and Jeanne and Ava, and maybe that whole thing with Cammy.  You also, if I have the timeline in my head right, wouldn’t have the spell you used to break through to the Mechanic anyway.”  She shrugged.  “I’m not, like, saying ‘everything happens for a reason’, because that always seems like a cop out.  But reasons are why things happen the way they do.  Wishing you’d done it different… you’re just wishing to erase the bad stuff, assuming that nothing else would’ve happened to fuck it all up, right?”

“I guess.”  James said, staring up at the ventilation pipes overhead.  “But I don’t, you know, *want* thousands of people to die.”  He rolled his head to look at his partner. “It’s my *thing*.”

Alanna barked a laugh, and clapped a hand on his shoulder, strong fingers massaging at the tense muscles.  “I know, it’s why I like you.”  She said simply.

“So, what’re you up to?”

“Oh, I was actually going to go talk to Ann, if I could find her.”  Alanna said.  “So, you know how we spend a lot of time in armor these days?”

“I’m aware of it.”  James nodded.  “We need better armor.  I’m honestly annoyed we don’t have a magic coat of protection yet.”

“You have shield bracers, shut up.  Anyway, the body armor we have.”  Alanna deftly blocked his attempt to derail the conversation.  “It’s kind of the worst fucking thing ever, and I was hoping maybe the one other woman who spends all day in it could help me out with that.”

“Worst… how?”  James asked.

“So, you know how I’ve got tits, right?”  Alanna asked, giving James an inscrutable look.

James paused and tried to look just as enigmatic back at her.  “I’ve been informed of this, yes.”  He said.  “Sources say they’re very nice.  Especially when you-“

“*Yes thank you* anyway moving on.”  Alanna’s sarcasm crumbled.  “The point is, the armor wasn’t designed for that.  And even my, let’s be real here, not-very-voluptuous form still ends up getting crushed and pinched in ways I don’t appreciate.”

Setting his bottle on the counter with a metal clink, James frowned in thought.  “We can just buy a different model of armor for you.  We’ve *got* the money.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that commercially available body armor is almost exclusively designed by and for men?”  Alanna asked him.

“I mean, it sounds kinda horrible, and I’m prepared to believe most negative things about the world these days.”  James shrugged.  “What about designing our own?”

“Kind of what I was gonna ask Ann about.  I know there’s other delvers or responders who also deal with this, but she’s the only one I know that well.”

“Oh yeah?  That’s cool.”

Alanna gave a small laugh.  “I mean, we’ve talked a few times.  Mostly about dumb stuff, but it’s always fun.  I dunno.”

“You’re describing… friendship. That’s friendship what you’re saying there.”  James gave her a long suffering look, mouth stretched into a line.

“Well, hopefully my friend will have some advice on making the plate edges not dig in so much to the sides of my boobs.”  Alanna said, shifting her weight from foot to foot.  “It’s either that, or get breast reduction surgery, because not wearing the armor isn’t an option.”

“Oh, I know about this one.  You’re on the Oregon Health Plan, right?  You can just have that.  I mean, it takes a couple of preliminary appointments, but you can set up a surgery.  Though I’m not sure if it’s something that’s being done right now, what with the whole… hospital situation.”  James looped his hand in the air, trying to figure out the somatic motion to describe ‘a global pandemic’.

Alanna eyed him.  “You were just saying you liked ‘em.  Now you’re okay with me getting reduction surgery?”

“I mean, they’re not *my* breasts.”  James rolled his eyes.  “So yes, I’m fine with it.”

“Well, I’m not!  I like having boobs!”  Alanna retorted.

“I’m not sure what side I’m supposed to be defending here!”  James exclaimed.  “Also, we have a machine that makes the armor shells, and the Kevlar mesh that goes in them!  We can just make you better armor!”

“I know!  That’s why I was going to talk to Ann!”  Alanna grabbed James by the shoulders and shook him lightly.

“Why are we yelling?!”  He burst out, grabbing her shoulders and returning the motion.

“You two are such dorks.”  Momo said as she passed by, sliding through the front desk’s access door to get to the fridge, and passing close enough that James suddenly had a moment of knowing the names and locations of everyone in the building, every phone number within two blocks, and the lunch menu.  “Hey, you done with those? I’m heading back to the kitchen.”  She pointed at their bottles, and both James and Alanna calmly released each other, handed Momo the water bottles, let her pass by again, and then reached out to grab each other’s shoulders in the same formation as before.  They both gave Momo an expectant look, and she just snorted with a smile on her face.  “Dorks.”  She said.

“I think I’m setting in fine.”  Alanna admitted, as Momo headed away and she and James untangled themselves.  “I remember almost everything, but that’s less important, I think.  It’s just so nice here.  My brain keeps overvaluing the last few months, and so I have this impressing in my head of people just being generally shitty.  And now… this, I guess.  Worst thing I get called in a day is a dork, you know? And I *remember* that, but now I’m living it again.  And I like it.”

“I like it too.”  James smiled.  “Anyway, go get your armor settled.”  He turned and headed toward the elevator, before spinning on his heel and walking backward to call back to Alanna as she opened the door to the Response basement.  “Oh, and question!  What’re you doing for the next week or two?”

“Uh… lots of stuff?”

“Wanna babysit a ragtag band of vagabonds as they grow into a valuable addition to the Order?”  He asked.

“Absolutely not!”  Alanna called out.  “I hate Tennessee and you can’t make me go back!”  She yelled, before ducking through the door and letting it swing close behind her.

“Damn.”  James said.  “Nate said the same thing.”

_____

The Research basement had become messy, James noticed immediately as he stepped off the elevator.  He’d known for the last week of being back, but it had somehow gotten worse in the time that he had focused on other things.  Like some kind of perverse game of red-light-green-light, where every time he blinked, more clutter accumulated.

It wasn’t like it was turning into a garbage heap down here or anything.  The place was still clean, someone was keeping the floors swept and the small increasingly impossible garden around the tree kept neat.  But someone was also stacking bankers boxes full of random Status Quo documentation by the elevator, storing pallets of bricks and plywood on the sides of the already fairly cramped hallways, and leaving random objects on every available flat surface of roughly table height.

It reminded James a lot of his apartment.  In the last way, not in the sense that he kept construction materials sitting around just in case he needed them.

After an unintentional dance with a camraconda that was also trying to slip past a choke point in one of the halls, James emerged into the main floor space that the investigators, researchers, engineers, and historians of the Order shared.

It, too, was a chaotic mess.  Though more in the sense that it had a lot of moving pieces, more than it had a lot of clutter.  Reed had a *line* of people waiting for him to give them a slice of his time, one of the new engineers was having - and losing - a debate with a camraconda about AI ethics, someone was giving Momo a status update about one of the grown program chips, a manifested Planner watched and took careful records of orange totem design plans, and there were a half dozen other sources of movement and sound besides that, all vying for James’ attention.

It was interesting, and he was here for none of it.

He instead took one of the relatively clear corridors around the outside of the space, heading to the far side of the room, and the secure containment vault that lay beyond it.

And he almost got there without being spotted and interrupted.  Though fortunately, it was Momo, and not someone who was going to ask him to approve any kind of bizarrely irresponsible project.

“Hey, I need you to get everyone on board with something stupid.”  Momo said, just as James opened his mouth to say hi.

He closed his mouth, and frowned at her.  So much for his high esteem for his friend and colleague.  “I’m almost certainly going to say no.”  James told her.  “But alright, let’s hear it.  You have limited time, because I’m here for something and it’s almost seven, and I haven’t eaten in…” He thought, and couldn’t come up with a number.  His stomach growled at him.  “I’m hungry.”  He corrected.  “Anyway, what’s up?”

“I want you to let me build an AI doctor.”  Momo said, a determined look on her face.  “Nameless is degrading, and I can’t fix h- it, and there isn’t a lot else I can do.  I wanted to get them an authority, but they’re all going to camracondas over the next couple days, and Reed doesn’t know when any new ones will grow, or if we can even bond one to a life form that doesn’t have a normal body.  So I want to try to make a new digital intelligence, that can fix others.  Please.”

James took a close look at her, and saw a girl who hadn’t slept in a long time.  “We don’t make life to be tools.”  He told her softly.

“But we sure do use them when it happens anyway.”  Momo snapped out bitterly, and then instantly looked like she regretted it.  “I… I mean…” She took a step back, and looked around for anything to focus on that wasn’t James.

“I’m not going to be mad at you.”  James told her, still in that same calm voice.  He was getting good at staying cool for situations like this, which wasn’t experience he’d ever really wanted.  “But we don’t make life to be tools.  And if you did make another AI, there’s no promise that it won’t suffer the same degradation that this one is going through.”  He didn’t draw the parallel to aging in general; he felt like his goal of eliminating mortality was pretty well stated.  It was more about the time frame of how quickly the AI had begun to fall apart.  “No, I’m not going to okay that.  And I think you know it.”

“It’s not *fair*!”  Momo yelled, looking like she wanted to punch the nearest wall, but finding nothing but hanging cork boards and shelves within arm’s reach.  “It’s done so much for us, and I’m just… letting it die.”  She sniffed, and rubbed at the edges of eyes that had run out of fresh tears hours ago.  “And it doesn’t even care, really.  So I guess I’m just wasting everyone’s time.”  The words came out angry and bitter.

“It isn’t fair.”  James agreed.  “We’ll divert an authority to you, to see if you can make that work.  And any other resource you need.  Do you need more red orbs? We can prioritize that.  Has running the programs Nameless won in the dungeon helped?  Is there some kind of code-based healing potion?  That would fit the pattern…” He muttered the last sentence quietly.

“What, just like that?”  Momo asked, brain only just catching up to the authority comment.

“Yes.  The AI is dying, the camracondas aren’t.  It’s worth it to see… hm.”  He paused.

“Yeah, you thought it, didn’t you?”  Momo said.  “What if the AI dies, and the authority goes with it?”

“They don’t start as people, same as with most infomorphs.”  James said.  “It’s weird and ethically uncomfortable, but it’ll be okay.”  He raised a hand and caught Reed’s attention from across the room, and then indicated Momo.  Reed nodded once, and then went back to his petitioners.  “There.”  James told her. “I am curious about the programs, though.  And if that’s a little too much right now, that’s fine, but maybe if I could get a list? It could literally save lives.”

“I… yeah, I can do that now.”  Momo said. “We did try them, just to see.  They’re all like that CD that Anesh made a bunch of copies of.  Run the program, get immunity to something.  But the portion, processor load of the program, and usefulness, all seem random.”

“As expected.”

“Yeah.”  Momo rolled her eyes.  “Whatever Virgil got, either he aced some challenge for it, or just got super lucky, because…”

James winced.  “Oh good, the part where things go wrong!”

“It’s not that bad.  But it takes one CD tray, and any PC made after 2010 can run it.  Anesh’s obviously been testing it, and I think he’s got a computer around here that we should be mining bitcoin on, that can run maybe six copies?  That’s pretty cool.”  Momo shook her head.  “Most of these are clunkier.  Like, they need dedicated hardware, and I don’t know how much we’re willing to invest in that.”  She gnawed at her lip.  “Also a lot of them suck.”

“Like?”

“Like the one that gives immunity to wood?”  Momo suggested.  “There’s also one that protects against ‘hammers’.  So, that’s vague.  Oh, they also both are hugely inefficient programs.”

“What are the good ones?”  James asked, waiting outside the vault door to finish the conversation.  “And how comically inconvenient are they?”

“Heat, lightning, and drowning.”  Momo rattled off.

“Lightning or electricity?”

“Lightning.”

James clicked his tongue.  “So heat and drowning then.”  He said.  “Weren’t there, like, twenty things in that box?  Is that really all that’s good?”

“More now.  I’ll get you a full list.  But the heat one is a floppy disk that’s actually a very small program.  It just only gives a quarter of a percent.  The drowning one…”. She winced as she looked at James.  “The thing’s a laserdisk.”

“...How?”

“Dungeon nonsense?”

“Kay.  How often do any of us really drown, though?”  He mused.  “Nevermind, that’s the point, isn’t it?  Okay, get me the full list.  I have a thing to do right now.”

“Okay.”  Momo nodded vigorously, the spikes of her short Mohawk wobbling as she did.  “And… thanks.  For jumping me over the line like that, for the authority.”

“Reed has his head in the right place, but he’s looking at the rules as rules, not guidelines.”  James told her.  “Don’t hold it against him.  He’ll learn.  We’re all learning.”

“Yeah.  Well, good luck in there.”  Momo paused for a minute, looking uncertain, and then moved forward like she was stumbling to wrap her arms around James in a quick hug.  “Thank you.”  She said, before awkwardly breaking off and running - obviously unsafe down here - to get into the line of people who all had things to ask Reed.

James just shook his head, but he couldn’t hold off a smile as he did so.  Punching in the code to the vault, he pulled open the heavy door as the locks disengaged, and let it swing shut behind him as he walked into the containment room.

The inside had been rearranged since he was last down here, mostly making use of the extra floor space since the camracondas now had a new space for their religious observances.  The wall of trophies from the fallen was still in its place, tucked in a corner for anyone to visit, and James noticed that some superstitious engineers had left skulljack accessory prototypes on the shelf with Virgil’s orb.

The back of the room, though, was very different, having been divided into secure observation rooms.  The whole place was brightly lit and a lot cleaner and more organized than the outside, which was simultaneously offputting and a huge relief.

Sarah was waiting for him by the desk that was positioned to watch the cells - James knew they weren’t technically a prison, but they reminded him too much of cells for him to think of them as anything else - talking to Deb, who was flipping through a sheaf of papers.

“Bloodwork came back… uh… nothing.”  Deb was saying.  “It’s not blood.  And despite us having a bit of a reputation with that particular hospital right now, I think they might think this was a practical joke.”  She sighed.  “Hey James.”

“Hey James!”  Sarah perked up as he walked in.

“Hey you two.  And hello to our guests.”  He nodded politely toward the wide security glass windows of the two occupied cells.

The occupants were already watching, but at his nod, both of them reacted.  The two ratroaches that had been brought out of the Akashic Sewer, one standing by the window, the other sitting in a ball on the bed, both flinched as he acknowledged them.  They were wearing shirts that had been specially sewn for them by members of the support group, along with loose fitting sweat pants that looked enormously baggy on the smaller one, and almost comically tight on its larger partner, accentuating the odd proportions of its musculature.

They weren’t prisoners, at least, not to the Order. But a lifetime of being imprisoned, no matter how nice anyone here was going to treat them, was going to leave marks.

That’s wasn’t why Deb was here, though.  She was here to check on the more physical marks.

There was weird effect that came from exposure to the skill orbs that Officium Mundi offered.  For some people, like James, a few interesting orbs could take him down a radically new path for a hobby or profession.  But for others, like Anesh, they were more concerned with skill orbs that amplified their current passion.

It wasn’t like anyone was a hundred percent one or the other, but it was kind of clear that Deb had wanted to be a doctor, and access to lifetimes worth of medical knowledge had only helped her do that better, even if she *did* end up on delve or rescue teams more often than she really remembered signing up for.

“So, what’s the situation?”  James asked her.

“Well, despite not having ‘blood’, they still aren’t carrying any foreign  pathogens.  I think we talked about this, but I did some of my own tests, and they do benefit from most vaccinations, though whether or not they can get chicken pox is up in the air.  If they could before, they can’t now, though.  You were right, too, that red inflammation where fur and chitin meet is absolutely an infection.  Their bodies seem adapted to it, and they were probably made for it, but it still leaves them in intense pain.  We’ve been using tacrolimus as a treatment, after it became clear it was working like organ rejection, and that’s been helping a lot, along with a standard antibiotic routine.”  She flipped through her pages, and turned one to show James an outline of a ratroach form with a slew of red marks.  “They have multiple badly healed fractures, scar tissue clumps, and open lesions.”  She frowned, and looked back through the windows.  “Or at least, they *had*.  They heal *fast*, even if they don’t heal well.  Just being out of the Sewer, they’re getting healthier by the day.  Good food and real beds probably don’t hurt.  I have a report on recommended nutrition here for you, too.”

“...Deb, how smart are you?”  James asked her.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“...Okay.”  James glanced at Sarah.  “How about communication?”

“They can understand us.”  Sarah said confidently.  “And communicate through gestures and some words.  They were ‘gifted’ with different languages by the Sewer, so we got them overlapping yellows to cover.  They both know English and Spanish.”

“But they can’t speak very well.”  Deb told him.  “Undeveloped vocal cords, badly connected lungs, and misshapen jaws make speaking painful for them, probably on purpose.”  She snarled.  “Whatever did this, it’s a real fucker.”

Sarah gave a sad look at the two ratroaches, who were still watching James on high alert, multiple sets of eyes tracking him.  “I’ve been talking to them, as much as I can.”  She said. “They’re terrified, you know?  Oh, they did help identify one of the weird samples Anesh brought back!  They call it shaper substance; and I think it’s what the big one keeps using to modify herself.  If we had more of it, enough of it, we could probably help them do the same.  But if I understand right, it’s insanely painful?”

“We do have anesthetic that could help.”  Deb commented.  “But yeah, that’s what I’ve got for you.  They’re as healthy as I can make them, and with the proper routine, they’ll only get healthier.  And they don’t have anything that could cause problems.  They *had* some nasty spores in their fur that could have caused lung damage to a human, but that’s taken care of.”

“Do you want to talk to them?”  Sarah asked him quietly.

“Yeah.”  James said, stepping forward, with Sarah moving to flank him.  Deb stepped back and excused herself politely, leaving the documentation on the desk, but knowing that more humans in the room was only going to make it too crowded.   “Hey there.”  He said, standing in the spot where they could both see him through the windows.

The ratroaches eyed him with caution. On the one hand, yes, he had been the one to get them here.  Away from the dungeon.  “Safe”.  But on the other hand…

They had seen him fight.

“So, Deb tells me you don’t need to quarantine anymore.”  James said softly.  “We can get you moved to real rooms, not isolation cells, probably today if you want.”

The one that had been pacing stopped and pivoted toward the window, and James noticed he had a quartet of antenna coming off the back of his head that bobbed when he moved.  The large ratroach rapidly alternated glancing between James and the wall separating their rooms, a worried look in both kinds of eyes on its face, mouth open as it struggled to say something.

“Take your time.”  Sarah stepped in, stopping the ratroach’s attempts.  “There’s no rush, do you want paper to write?”

The ratroach paused, looking down at the three clawed hands it possessed, folding and unfolding its fingers as it struggled to breathe.  Eventually, it steadied itself, looked back up, and croaked out a word.  “Together?”  He asked James.

“As in, rooms next to each other, or one room?”  James asked.  The ratroach held up a hand, and with effort, gestured with two raised fingers.  “One room then?”  A nod.  “Yeah, that’s easy, we can do that.”  He said simply, and saw in the other room the smaller ratroach curl itself around the pillow it was holding as it sat, muzzle twisting into a happy smile.  “Wait, hang on.  Are you two... partners?  Romantic or otherwise?”  James asked, curious more than anything.

Both ratroaches froze, any hint of a smile vanishing from their faces.

James instantly realized he’d made a mistake asking, but Sarah again came to his rescue.  “It’s alright,” she told them, “that’s not a problem here.  A lot of us have partners.  You’ll probably meet James’ partners at some point, inevitably.  Anesh is *around* a lot.”  She smiled at them, and they relaxed just a fraction.

“I cannot,” James said quietly, “imagine trying to both have and hide a relationship in that dungeon.”  He shook his head. Then, speaking up, told them, “But yeah, we can get you out of here now, if you want.  Would you like to come upstairs and meet some people?”  He pressed a few buttons on the door’s keypads, and opened each of them with individual hisses of slightly pressurized air.

The two ratroaches didn’t move, staring at the open doors like they were a trap.  “People?”  The smaller one said.

The larger one was a little more bold, and took the opportunity to slip through its own door, not taking his eyes off James or Sarah though, before backing through the open door of the adjacent room and settling into the same standing position before the bed the small one was sitting on.

“People.”  Sarah confirmed.  “Nice people, mostly!  Friends, if you want ‘em.  People to spend time with, people who won’t… hurt you.”

“How…” one of them croaked out, before stopping, struggling to speak, and then instead of using words, just held up its hands and ticked off fingers one by one.

“How many?”  James asked, and it nodded its head, a line of glowing blue drool rolling down its jaw before it wiped it away with an ashamed look in its eyes.  “There’s about a hundred people in the building at any given time.  A lot of them camracondas or Response members, but we’ve got a pretty wide variety of things going on.”

The ratroaches shook their heads, shrinking away from the open door.

“It’s…!  It’s okay!”  Sarah tried to mollify them.  “It’s not scary!  We’re not…!”

This time, it was James’ turn to jump in.  “Can I ask, what is it that bothers you?  Is it the idea of other people, the number of people, or the feeling of being exposed?”  The ratroaches indicated the last two points, with the small one heavily emphasizing the feeling of exposure.  “Because you’ve met ‘people’ before, right? In the Sewer? And they hurt you.” James asked.

“Yes.”  The small one squeaked out, voice sounding both raspy and high pitched all at once.

A stray thought in James’ head collided with his path through the day, and he tapped a finger on his lips as he considered something.  “Would you be more comfortable in a place that has fewer people, and is mostly isolated from other people wandering in?”  He asked

The two creatures shared a look, and then gave James cautious nods.

“What are you thinking?”  Sarah asked him.

“Townton.”  James said.  “There’s twenty people there, max.  Most of them are constantly busy, and not around all the time in their base, so it’ll be mostly empty but still have contact.  But it’s still ‘our territory’, more or less.  A place they can be safe.”

“Safe, with a bunch of road warriors wandering around?”  Sarah gave him an incredulous frown, all pursed lips and furrowed brow.  “Really.”

“They wouldn’t have to leave the forward base, if they don’t want to.  And it’s *isolated*.”  James shrugged.  “Would that be better for you two?”  He asked them.  “It’s not as safe as here, but it’s got fewer people.  If that doesn’t sound okay, we can maybe look into buying a remote cabin in the woods somewhere and setting you up there.”

The large ratroach looked like he was going to say something, and then stopped, like he’d just realized something terrible, shrinking down as he bowed his head and crouched down to the floor, no longer towering over James.  “Not choice.”  The ratroach croaked out.

“..What?”

“Not our choice.”  The smaller one rasped, seemingly having a firmer grasp on its own voice, even if he did have to pant for breath after each sentence.  “You own us now.”

Sarah lay a hand on James’ shoulder, preemptively saying, “James, don’t…”

“Own you.”  James hissed.  “*Own* you?”  The ratroach scraped its shell on the floor as it pushed itself backward to the wall, moving to get away from James’s sudden burst of anger.  “No.”  He took a deep breath, pushing the white hot feeling of indignant rage away.  “No.”  He stepped into the room, and almost wanted to cry as the small ratroach on the bed curled into the corner, holding the pillow between himself and James like a protective totem.  But whatever they expected, all James did was reach down an open hand to the ratroach on the ground.  “Please, stand up.”  He asked, a sad note in his voice.

It took a minute, but eventually, realizing he wasn’t going to punish or hurt them, the dungeon creation reached up one of its main arms to place a chitin plated hand in James.  James gave an “oof” of exertion as he helped the ratroach to his feet, not realizing how heavy he would be.  And then, he stepped back.

“We don’t own you.”  He said, firmly.  “No one does.  You aren’t property, or assets, or anything but people.  When anyone here asks you if you have a preference, the choice is yours and yours alone.  Even if you’re not asked, speak up, and we’ll work with you.  We want…” James trailed off, trying to figure out how to express what he really did want.  “...we want you to heal.  To see the future with us.  Even if you don’t want to join us directly, you’re under our umbrella now, and we’ll do whatever we can to keep you safe.  Okay?”

There was a long silence.  James signed, and turned to go, not sure he had anything to say that would make the difference here.  He was standing in the doorway, about to let Sarah know that she should get them a room and leave them be, when he heard a hissing gasp behind him, and felt a tap on his shoulder.

James turned around, careful not to spin or jump, and faced the smaller of the two ratroaches.  He had slid off the bed without a sound, and tapped James with the extra arm that originated just under the back of his right shoulder blade.  And stood there, trembling, staring up at James, with a defiant look in its eyes.  The larger one looked like it expected James to just kill his partner right there, which made James’ heart break all over again.

“Yes?”  James asked, softly.

The ratroach flicked its hands, and it took James a second to realize it was speaking sigh language.  It took him another second to realize that he understood that, and he thanked whatever yellow had given him this unlikely skill however long ago it had happened.

“You swear?”  The ratroach asked.

James *almost* made a joke about how he swore a lot.  But instead, he just replied in the same language, with fingers that weren’t used to using it.  “I promise, yes.”  He said.  “You have a choice with us.  Always.”

“Why?”  The sleak, clearly terrified, ratroach asked.  “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” James said out loud.  “It’s why you knew you had to leave the Sewer.  It’s why your partner looks ready to try to fight the whole building if I threaten you.”  He nodded to the larger of the two, who had one furred hand extended into wicked looking claws, and the other two hands balled into tight fists.  “It’s because kindness is worth showing, even if it’s hard.  Compassion is valuable, even if it’s scary.  Love is worth protecting, even if it’s painful.”  He looked down at his own hand, broken until recently, and held it out slowly to the ratroach.  “You’ve been alone and starved and hurt for so long, it might seem like that’s normal, and you’re the strange ones for wanting anything different.  But that’s not the world I want to live in.”

The ratroach looked down at James’ offered hand, staring at it with five eyes all at different focuses, before he slowly extended a half furred half shelled hand of his own, and placed it cautiously against James’ palm.

James smiled, and gave a light grip back to the ratroach, trying not to think about how spiky the coarse fur was on his skin.  “Now,” he said, “go hug your boyfriend, and you two take some time to decide what you want.  You’ve got time.  But I do think the best option for you might be our secondary site.  It’s got fresh air, and it’ll be funny to me personally to add another thing to JP’s pile of tasks.”

Sarah swatted him on the arm.  “Don’t be mean!  Also that’s just gonna confuse them.”

“Wait.”  The muscled ratroach said, stopping James as he turned to go.

“Yes?”

It took some time to marshal its voice, and then asked slowly, “What… is a hug?”

And finally, James couldn’t keep the tears back any longer.  He jerked his head to look away, a hand covering his mouth as he stifled a strained set of sobs, hot tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

There was, he had figured, a finite limit to the amount of cruelty in the world.  And now he was given a front row seat to a massive alert that he had been absolutely wrong.

And then Sarah wrapped her arms around his back, and thunked her head into his neck, pulling him close and throwing him off balance in surprise.  But he didn’t fall, and she helped him stabilize, and he put his own arm around her shoulders and just tried to be *okay* for a minute.

“This is a hug.”  Sarah said.  “It’s something you share with people when they need it, or you need it, or to say hello or goodbye, or just because you want to.  It’s a very flexible gesture.”  She told them.

In their temporary room, two new people, secret loves who had survived injuries both physical and mental, who had taken a wild chance on freedom, shared a hug for the first time in their lives.

And James’ kept crying, but he smiled while he did it.

_____

_____

“This is absolutely not what I meant, *James*.”  JP muttered to himself, standing on the second floor balcony and looking down at the cracked and damaged floor of the police station’s lobby.

Then he shook his head, took another swallow from the beer he’d liberated from a local grocery store, and turned to make his way downstairs.  He had new arrivals to welcome to the project.