Solomon's Crucible 52. The First Contact (2) (Patreon)

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Dale led them through a bit more walking before they arrived at a sizable rambler at the end of a cul-de-sac. The setting sun provided enough light to navigate by, but it was still strange for Solomon to step inside and realize that the light switch wouldn't do anything. For all of the craziness he'd been put through by the system, the fact that his mundane reality now included a permanent blackout was only starting to sink in.

"Sorry about that," Dale said. A moment later he reached into thin air and came out holding a glowing rock. "Everybody who goes out at night made sure to buy one or two of these from that dungeon store. Here, let me give you the nickel tour."

The layout of the home was simple enough. As Dale was showing them where they'd be sleeping, Solomon took a look around the house. The walls were covered with family pictures. Dale was a fixture, of course, with varying levels of gray in his hair. More often than not he was pictured standing next to a woman who Solomon assumed with his wife. Kids showed up as well. It was hard to keep track of who was who, but the most he saw in any one photo was three. 

"Wife passed a few years ago," Dale said. "She would have gotten a kick out of all this."

"I'm sorry," Solomon said.

Dale waved him off. "Kids are off in college. If you're headed to Eugene I'd appreciate it if you could look them up."

Solomon nodded. "Write down the names and addresses before we go. I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

He was already planning to swing by the campus anyway to find his sister. He wasn't sure he could find another few college students out of everybody attending the University of Oregon, but it wouldn't hurt to try. Solomon already harbored the vague ambition to get as many people as possible out from under the invaders' thumbs. Repaying a favor at the same time would be icing on the cake.

"Thanks," Dale said. "You two hungry? Me and the boys are trying to grill up all our meat before it goes bad."

As it turned out, the whole neighborhood had decided to respond to the system's disruption of their lives by having an impromptu block party. Grills and tables were dragged out into the street, which was lit with an eclectic mix of lawn torches and system-granted light balls tied to sticks. Watching men work to get their charcoal started and argue over the best way to prepare hot dogs, it was a reassuring scene. Just so long as you didn't pay attention to the young men and older teenagers walking around the perimeter and killing the occasional monster that tried to sneak by.

Within the guarded perimeter, families mixed together and socialized as they put dinner plates together. Kids ran around being kids, though Solomon noticed that most of the adults were keeping half an eye on them to make sure they didn't venture out into the night. Inside the lighted area, it was a little bubble of small town America holding on despite the system.

For Solomon, sitting at a picnic table with a hamburger and potato chips gave him a moving taste to normality. Even the warm can of Rainier beer tasted good.

The conversation around the table broke Solomon out of his reverie. Naturally, even in the warm atmosphere of a neighborhood barbecue, the main topic of conversation wasn't the game or the weather, but the system. What was it, how did it work, what did it mean... the system itself had never provided an explanation for its underlying purpose, save perhaps encouraging combat, which left space for people to build their own theories to fill in the gaps.

Solomon let the conversation wash over him as he ate. He didn't have any particular insight to offer to explain why the system had been inflicted on Earth. His gut feeling disagreed with the notion that the system was God's punishment inflicted on a sinful world, but it wasn't like he could prove it one way or the other. From what he remembered of the Old Testament, God hadn't ruled anything out when it came to cursing sinners. He just had a hard time believing that divine justice would ever be administered in the form of blue dialog boxes.

He finally spoke up when talk turned to more practical matters. "I can tell you a few things about what's coming."

He found himself the center of attention. Solomon and Kanmi were sharing a table with Dale, two of his deputies, Tom and Mike, and Mike's son Junior. He'd gathered from earlier that these four had taken on a lot of the responsibility for organizing the community's response to the system, and also had gone further than the others in terms of pushing the limits of the system.

Solomon didn't share the details of his skill levels or grid purchases, but he didn't hold back in describing the challenges that the system had put in front of him. From the dungeon monsters, traps, and boss, to the outpost, to the final arena challenge. He laid out everything that Glide would have to overcome in order to claim its own land back from the system. He also explained the time frame they were working with: one week before they had to worry about dungeon breaks, and another month before they'd have to duel with aliens for all the marbles.

"That's a hell of a road," Tom said. "But if you could do, so can we, right?"

Solomon smiled. He'd rather the locals be fired up than scared of what was ahead of them. Of course, it wouldn't do him any good if they charged off half cocked and got themselves killed. He was trying to think of a polite way to warn Tom not to underestimate the task in front of him when Kanmi cut in.

"It scales to population size," Kanmi said. "He went through a one man dungeon and outpost, and then had a one on one fight with me. Not saying you guys couldn't do it, but it'll be different. The dungeon told you, right? Four or five man parties, something like that?"

"Five," Mark replied. "What's your story, anyways? You some kind of alien invader?"

"He beat me fair and square," Kanmi said, nodding at Solomon. "Decided to have me work for him instead of just killing me."

Kanmi paused for a moment. "I'll admit, it's not how I planned it. Usually, the guys stuck by themselves in a zone don't make it. I figured with my ticket I'd come out at the end of Fourth Grace and just kill monsters and make money until I got sick of it."

"Oh," Mark said. "Sorry about calling you an invader."

"No, no, you're right to worry," Kanmi said. "You know those tv specials about some tribe in the jungle that was isolated for thousands of years until a helicopter flew over? That's you guys right now."

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