Chapter 42: Numbers

  ADMINISTRATOR POV

  This could be a problem.

  I rolled out of bed with a nervous flick of my tail and took a deep breath. I’d been so proud of my emergent system that tried to work out how best to use whatever traits manifested in a creature. Now it had done just that – somehow picking up on my back door into the avatar and providing a link that I wasn’t sure was a good idea.

  It would be different if I controlled Tastka, but I didn’t. She was my soul and, in a way, she was me, but her mind was still that of a child… and an alien child at that, at least alien compared to me. Giving her access to what I could do would be disastrous.

  Fortunately, my body’s lack of biology meant I didn’t immediately spiral into a panic attack. I took another deep breath and considered everything. I knew the class had not been clear on exactly what she would get out of this; until I knew, I couldn’t panic yet. I also couldn’t act hastily. Even now, I had to force myself to pause in my rush.

  I opened my interface and pulled up something I hadn’t used before: when Orpheus had left at the beginning of the Fourth Epoch, a new button had appeared, an emergency call that could bring her here at the steep price of 100 Reality Points. I had very nearly pushed that button, but… what would she do if she found out there had been leakage?

  As much as she claimed to help me, and as much as her answers made sense, I had to remind myself that she was alien… more alien than Tastka. I couldn’t jump to the conclusion that this would be a problem if it wasn’t a problem. Maybe I could ignore it. Even if it was a problem, maybe I could fix it myself and not involve her at all.

  A small part of me said this was a terrible idea, but the much larger part leaned on my distrust of Orpheus. I rarely expressed it, but when she wasn’t here it was easier to think through how ruthlessly efficient she seemed, even if she claimed to be my ally.

  This situation might even call for someone above her. I didn’t know if she had a boss, but this whole arrangement reeked of bureaucracy. Right now, anyway, it was likely there were things she would feel she had no choice but to do.

  I centered myself and considered where that left me. The simplest thing would be to go back to sleep and see what Tastka got out of this. If she remembered everything clearly, that would be one kind of worry; if she just got vague impressions, or even nothing at all, that would be another…

  I let my thoughts trail off as I realized that would be a terrible test. If I went back to sleep, nothing would happen; she probably wouldn’t pick up anything. I wouldn’t know one way or another if this was dangerous.

  I curled my tail into my lap and played with the tip in an absent gesture of thought. It still felt sensitive, even if I didn’t have any ticklishness or anything. One of these days I would have to figure out how this bizarre, not-quite body worked and decide what I should and shouldn’t feel – but that would be for another day.

  Right now, what could I do? Now that I was thinking logically, and the vague imprint of a biological body had faded away, the answer came a little more easily.

  I had to test this very carefully. The best way would be to do something… but to make sure that whatever I did, if it leaked back to her, would not endanger my universe and preferably not her personally.

  That left me considering what I could possibly work on.

  The obvious answer would be the patch to the system that made it easier for elves – and others who had yet to develop abstract counting – to understand what it was telling them. That patch was almost finished, but I didn’t think I was ready to deploy it yet. I could work on it, though. Since the whole point of it was to make things clearer for Tastka and her kind, it wasn’t the sort of thing she’d understand if she caught a glimpse of it. That meant it was probably safe to tinker with.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  So I spent about an hour on it, mostly to clear my head. By then, I was pretty sure I had a solution, but making live changes to the system was relatively expensive. I wanted to make sure I got it right the first time… or at least by the second, since this would be a patch.

  By the time I reached a good stopping point, I’d come up with a few ideas. I brought up my interface, showing a broad portion of Upside where the elves lived. I thought I’d been clever when I placed them, but I’d gotten lost in my own ability to zoom through the landscape without considering just how huge the world really was.

  When I’d first seeded them, I placed them about a third of the way up that half of the cylinder, away from the central mountains, figuring they’d reach the barrier range to Downside much sooner that way. The problem was that their population was still relatively small, and they didn’t breed anywhere near as quickly as humans. Humanity’s diaspora on Earth had probably lasted far longer than the few thousand years the elves had existed here. I couldn’t know for sure, but it seemed a fair guess, considering how long and arduous early travel had been.

  In placing them “near” the mountains, I’d forgotten that “near” was relative. Traveling that distance would be like crossing to the other side of Earth—with all the terrain, oceans, and hazards in the way. It was probably even farther than I’d realized. It would be a long while before they spread far enough to actually encounter those mountains.

  I could deal with that, but it was still disappointing. I stared at the tiny glowing blotch that covered maybe one percent of Upside: the sum total of all elven life. All three subspecies, every clan and tribe, crowded into that little area, barely starting to spread out. I’d seeded a few isolated groups farther afield, of course, so there were smaller, disconnected enclaves developing their own variations of culture. I was sure they were evolving differently already, but I resisted the urge to zoom in and check. I had to be careful about what Tastka might pick up on.

  Even just seeing the shape of the world through my eyes would be a huge leap for her people if she remembered it… something that could accelerate their understanding of the world’s structure by centuries or more. That was risky enough on its own.

  I groaned to myself. This was becoming a headache. It didn’t help that the description of the new class had obviously been slapped together in a hurry. I’d put the provisional system in place, and the class had developed on its own and sent itself to the dragons for categorization. They simply hadn’t gotten to it yet. The system needed a name for it, so it had grabbed the nearest Elder Dragon and had them write an emergency description until the Great Game found time to handle it properly.

  I found myself pulling up the nearest Elder Dragon out of curiosity, just to see who had done it… but stopped before zooming in too much. Tastka had never seen a dragon. She’d never heard of one. I wasn’t even sure her clan knew they existed. I’d be surprised if they hadn’t ever encountered one, but clearly it hadn’t happened recently enough for anyone to remember.

  That was odd. They told stories constantly. Like most primitive peoples, storytelling was their chief means of preserving history and entertaining themselves. That was how they still knew about the Aravel Elves, despite never seeing one in Tastka’s lifetime.

  I sighed to myself and dismissed the image of the world. Instead, I brought up another elf – this one also asleep, so there wasn’t much to see – but I might as well get this done. I was curious to see how Tastka would perceive it, if she remembered any of it at all. It was harmless enough.

  At least I’d already prepared this special class, and now I applied it. Of course, this particular elf wasn’t ready for it yet, but that was fine; it would simply appear in their available choices when their class selection unlocked. I was fairly sure Orpheus hadn’t lied about that – to never force choices, only present them – and I intended to keep it that way.

  I itched to do more, though not because there was so much that needed doing. There was always more to do, of course, but this time the hesitation was different. Now that I’d handled what I could, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fall asleep again. Giving my avatar the ability to dream had felt like a kindness… but now it seemed she might share the stress of my job as well.

  I resigned myself to taking it one day at a time. I’d been so casual about advancing time before that now, the slow pace made me restless. Perhaps that was something I needed… to slow down, to sit with the consequences for once.

  Reluctantly, I dismissed the interface and lay back again.

  Hopefully, nothing else would go wrong.

  The Day the World Changed