As the ice lady’s friends turned their heads away and giggled, her own expression was one of apologetically controlling her humor. “Yes, sir, you are. Red-handed. But that’s alright! You aren’t the first newbie caught in the headlights here.”
“Gotta be the oldest, though,” one of her friends blurted. The other gasped shyly at her audacity, while the ice lady gave her a ‘look’ with her brows raised and her chin down.
“No doubts there,” Jack replied, shrugging. “Alright, moving on, uh… I’ll take a milkshake. Vanilla- no, Caramel. Yeah. Medium.”
“I could do a blend? Add a real caramel swirl? I can’t recommend adding an infusion. Not right for these flavors.”
“Oh, no way. No jet fuel in this puppy. Hmm. Yeah, let’s go with the rest of what you said, though.”
“Would you like me to utilize my powers or have it done by my folks in the back there? Actually, just my dad at the moment. Shouldn’t change much, just some added entertainment while I’m around.”
Jack glanced, noticing an opening where a middle-aged man with a puffy mustache and a white cap on his head was watching with a grin. He gave a thumbs up. Jack returned the gesture, then turned back to the ice lady. “Being a newbie, I can’t pass up a powers demonstration. Go ahead.”
“Coming right up!” She gestured with a hand out toward the alcove, where her presumed father had swiftly moved out of the way. Multiple streams of liquid flowed in wavy lines and formed into a little combined sphere in the air. She conventionally grabbed a fancy transparent cup and set it down, the sphere falling into it and mixing. A vague, cool breeze of sorts could be felt as the liquid swirled and changed consistency in a span of moments.
She set the milkshake in front of him without a top and stuck a hard straw in it. It was overall quite aesthetic, soft semi-liquid with a discernible swirl of caramel going around, something unlikely to be possible conventionally. An imprint of ‘Frosties!’ with icicle patterns was carved into one side of the glass. Despite that he could subtly tell the material wasn’t quite glass, it was made to look like some faux crystalline ice structure.
Smiling widely, the ice lady declared, “There you go, sir! Please utilize the drop box in the wall to the left of the counter for the cup and straw. They’re a specialty plant-based polymer, biodegradable for no microplastic intake. You can also purchase it if you prefer. They are permanent and sturdy.”
“Sure, why not? A memento. What do I owe you?” He glanced over to his right to see if the girls were still snickering and such at him, but they had left.
“The cup and straw are twenty bennies total. The shake is already logged as the ‘drink’ portion of your lunch credit. Unless, of course, you need a refund. Try it and make sure you like it, would you?”
Jack picked it up and took a sip, then quickly nodded appreciatively. “Charge me, lady. It’s delicious.”
“Alright. Thank you for your purchase! I’m Permafrost, by the way.”
“Ooh! Nice one.” An approval for the purchase flashed across Jack’s vision, and he checked through it immediately. “I’m Jack. Just Jack.”
She studied him with a grin. “For now, anyway. That’ll change. And thank you! It was kind of obvious. Probably unavoidable. I’m pretty difficult to get rid of.”
“Hmm.” Jack sipped his irresistible shake and squinted at her. “Almost indestructible? Regeneration type stuff?”
“Oh, this sculpture?” She struck a subtle but queenly pose briefly. “No, it’s very fragile! And very expendable. I guess that’s the trade-off. It’s more like a prettier, ice-based gun drone I pilot while I’m chilling out elsewhere. I’m a hyper-focused Summoner. Lucky mutation because I can pilot from a good range away. Unfortunately, it’s a bit of a glass cannon.”
Jack nodded slowly as he sipped. “Cool.” After a pause, looking at each other, they shared a smile.
“Always glad for people that understand the necessity to make puns when you’re an ice power user. I don’t have a choice!”
Jack shook his head with a helpless shrug. “Of course not. That’s just the reality. Anyway, sorry about gawking earlier. Didn’t mean to be rude.”
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t really look like this — it’s like an avatar. I designed it for stylish recognition because I aspire to be a public hero. I’m already a front-liner due to my expendability.” She paused, her gaze shifting away. “Well, let’s just say I’ve seen enough to want to be as much of an inspiration as I can for those who actually risk their life, and especially for why they do, which is all the people here. New Babylon and the territories of humanity.”
Jack nodded in understanding. “As a newbie, it’s good to hear such idealism survives the front lines. Thank you for doing it. For being there for the rest of us.”
She smiled, perhaps a touch wryly. “Relatively speaking, anyway. Whatever our job is, we should embrace it enthusiastically. Especially when we’re so well compensated.”
“I was curious why you’re doing this, on that same subject. Ice cream and such.”
“Oh. Well…” Permafrost glanced behind her, where the guy from before could just be seen, his back turned as he replaced stock in a mini-fridge. She then leaned forward and whispered, “My folks are especially enthusiastic for me, let’s say? They needed some channel to be involved, and they ran something similar back home. I don’t think my dad even understands the word ‘retirement.’ Anyway, I’m not around a lot, so this is a semi-special appearance. It has numerous benefits and — honestly — is pretty fun.”
Jack grinned. “And you get to spend time with your folks, who like to stay busy.”
She looked a bit sheepish as she flipped her head side-to-side in grudging ‘maybeness.’ “Even when he doesn’t need it, there’s nothing my dad likes more than me making him money.” Despite the words, it held that special brand of familial familiarity — threads of happiness within the teasing exasperation.
Jack loved seeing such things. Looked for it and envied it a bit. His own familiarity and ensuing memory tickled and finally bubbled up. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and pointed. “Frost Top! Tomatotown, Enkidu District! Mister, Mister, uh, uh” — he kept snapping his fingers until he got it — “Billswan! Used to have a big beard.”
Permafrost’s eyes bugged out. “Wha-? How?!”
It piqued her dad’s interest, his head shooting up and him soon wheeling around to poke his head through the inner window, staring at Jack and squinting his eyes. “What’s that I’m hearing, a fellow Tomato?! What’s your name, son?”
“Not a Tomato, sir. Edenite, originally. My dad took me to your establishment many times. Never a trip between the city and Eden without stopping there. I had ice cream and he had the same thing every time: a root beer float. Jack Laker is the name.”
Mr. Billswan slapped the counter. “Blow me off the Plats, little Jack Laker?! Freddie’s son?!”
Grinning, Jack nodded. Then he hesitated. “Er, allegedly. Not sure my identity-”
“Ha ha ha!” Mr. Billswan burst into hearty, joyous laughter as he also burst through a swinging door, hopped the counter with amazing smoothness for his significant size, and shortly threw his arms out and embraced Jack firmly, laughing all the while. The general power of the act was such that Jack was glad for his recently improved toughness.
Permafrost stared on, mouth hanging open, perhaps just a little bit mortified.
Internally, Mini-Mem clarified,
“Alright. Noted, thanks.”
“What a sight for sore eyes!” Mr. Billswan broke from the hug, repeatedly clapping Jack on the back with a big grin. He was also suddenly shaken with a big hand on his shoulder. “Haha, look at this, Snowcake! He’s all grown up!”
Permafrost glared at her dad. “I told you to never use that nickname in-”
“You brought him his sundaes when you were a wee little thing,” Mr. Billswan interrupted smoothly with his unwavering cheer, apparently oblivious to his daughter’s ire. “A time or two anyway. Or was it ice cream cones?”
“Both,” Jack answered, smiling politely as he awkwardly patted the big guy’s shoulder in return. “Unlike my dad, I didn’t always get the same thing.” He was eying Permafrost, trying to recollect her younger self. Once again, he managed to summon it. “Aup! Now I remember. You dropped my ice cream cone once! You were totally inconsolable, bawling your eyes out on the floor, like you’d just killed someone.”
Mr. Billswan exclaimed, hand going to his forehead. “By Marduk’s Left Tit, I remember it! Half the damn restaurant tried to comfort her before I came sweeping in to the rescue!”
“ ‘I smushed it, daddy! I smushed the icekweem on the fwooor!’ ”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Her dad pointed at him in amazement at the sheer gold of his recall, and they both laughed uproariously.
Permafrost glared at them, though half in resignation. She huffed once and said, “Yes, I, too, am thrilled to ‘revisit’ this embarrassing childhood thing I don’t remember. In public.”
Her dad glanced over at her. “Oooh, hush now. It was adorable! My little girl can’t help but be adorable in everything she does or ever did. From a wee babe to today, it’s effortless.”
“Oh really? Including when I’m fighting with murderous invading hideous monsters? That’s adorable, still? Not that you’ll ever get to see it in the first place.”
Her dad frowned at her in concern.
Just then, another customer came up, smiling politely. “Hope I’m not interrupting too much…”
“Not at all, sir!” both Permafrost and her dad said with lightning-speed cheer, right on top of each other.
Mr. Billswan was quicker on the follow-up. “What’ll you have?! We've got any shake you can dream up, or take a look at our extensive menu!” He was back over the counter like a dance he’d performed a thousand times. He held a finger up emotively, grin wide under his big mustaches. “What’s more, my amazing, beautiful daughter can even construct it for you with her Powers Most Cool while you watch on!”
The young man blinked several times. “Right. Well, I was wondering if you can incorporate coffee and what the options are — I know it'll be extra if you have it…”
As Mr. Billswan regaled him with options, Jack moved off to the side and leaned over the counter to get Permafrost’s attention. “Hey, sorry about that. I got carried away. I’ve been remembering things way too well lately…”
Permafrost shook her head and offered him a polite smile. “It’s alright, Jack. It’s pretty ridiculous.” She snorted. “I just- I really talked like that? Ugh. Wow. Need Mom to break out the old videos and cringe at myself. Anyway, see you around. Good luck with training, rookie. Enjoy your cup — it’s dishwasher safe. And do come back and see us! Five percent off for cup owners!”
“You bet. Thanks. I will!”
Jack proceeded further down the circumference of the Great Ring of Food. Once he saw an automated station called Slapped Between, serving custom foot-long sandwiches, he couldn’t resist the sights or smells. He ordered up a double meat, double cheese Deluxe Ham & Chicken with the works, and watched robotic arms put it together and package it. A special Infused sauce was squirted on top. From a separate machine on the side, five types of baked chips were served, which would dump them on your tray. He went with plain and yet another Infused concoction as a dip. ‘Peppy Bean N’ Cheese.’
His shake balanced on his new tray, Jack found a seat and took it to eat. While devouring it all, he bounced around in his head about his imminent attribute choice. Augment, Interpret, Destroy, or Transmute. When he leveled up, he’d have to choose one of them again, and could thereby specialize in one if he wanted to.
He gravitated to Augment or Transmute as having the most apparent potential to start out with. Between the two, the former was maybe a bit more of a stable, even choice, the latter more of a gamble. Transmute was, all-in-all, more radical. Wanting some of both down the line was a given, but Lindsay had advised to choose carefully based on how he wanted to ‘steer’ the development of his powerset, as mutations were not set in stone nor entirely random.
On the surface, Augment was raw functionality and power — probably mainly defensively — and Transmute was versatility and utility. But the gamble was if Transmute happened to provide an option that did both at once. The biggest trouble for him was that he had no clue what any of it looked like. What did it actually mean in tangible reflection? Lindsay’s power could help with that. Ultimately, his final choice was better off punted to after his first training session and her full power utilization on him. Which came first, he wasn’t sure.
When he was done eating — down to pinching up crumbs — Mini-Mem chimed in. “As an incentive to ensure proper nutrition for a still-depleted body, you’ve been granted another free meal credit. Drink and food must be fully Infused rather than drizzled with it via sauces.”
Jack shrugged. “Okay. I can eat. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Technically, you were told twice. Lindsay first instructed it in your room.”
“Yeah, yeah… Big Sisters looking out for me. I’m eternally blessed by your loving concern.”
“Indeed.”
“I’m forever in debt to your priceless advice.”
“Correct.”
“You don’t have to agree every time I say these things, you know.”
“True.”
Just as Jack was sighing longsufferingly, Lindsay sent a Mem-text:
He approved it and then sent a voice-link request, which she accepted. “So,” Jack began, “I ate, but I was granted another Infusion-specific meal. Any advice?”
“You went light on the extra juice, didn’t you?” she asked with an admonishing tone.
“I guess? I got some thrown in with oil and a dip. Sandwich and chips from Slapped Between.”
“Boys and their sandwiches. I just don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to get it, Sister, just accept that you’re damned skippity I can’t resist a toasted foot-long served without a single living witness!”
“You wandered around to order? Yeesh, you need to get with the times, grandpa. Okay, whatever, but let me order for you this time, yeah?” Another request came through for Lindsay to ‘arrange his lunch credit.’ He approved it.
“Getting the ‘ole royal treatment again, hehe. A guy could get used to this!”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve eaten here half my life, though. I just use the interface. Speed of thought efficiency. Your order is already made and being prepped, boyo. Yours and mine will be droned over to the table.”
“Hot damn, we can do that?”
“Mm-hmm...”
“A girl who doesn’t like window shopping?” Jack asked in mock incredulity, teasing her.
“Not for my lunch, no. But I’ve been around that block enough. I prefer to have my lunches planned out a week in advance.”
“Of course you do.”
“Do you have a problem with that, Jack?” The cool, subtle danger in her tone.
“Not at all — I acknowledge that this is consistent with your character and fully accept you as the beautiful, unique human being that you are. Quirks and all.”
“Hmph. You better. Be there soon.” She disconnected.
“Dodged another bullet, Jack!” Jack declared to no one as he fist-pumped. “Haha! Smoothest of the smooth confirmed.”
The drone arrived to set the food down just as Jack caught sight of Lindsay coming down the steps. The bag was labeled ‘Phonominal’ and the wonderful smell gave it away as, indeed, Pho. Pho and jet fuel. He started taking everything out, noting two bubble teas, one labeled ‘Energy Latte’ and another ‘Wintermelon Green Milk Tea,’ whatever the hell that was. It was clear whose was whose, though, so he set the milky, tapioca-pearled milk tea on her side.
Lindsay did a friendly wave as she took her seat, nodding at the paper container of food he was opening up. “There you go — lots of meat for a strapping young lad’s tastes, saturated also in heavy Infused elements. Drink all of that actual beef broth, too. Also, the latte is among the thickest of concentrations you’ll find. A pretty good staple to slurp up in between meals, by the way.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jack replied as he began prepping the soup, his mouth watering for it despite having just stuffed his face. This new factory inside me is something else. “Duly noted.”
As soon as Jack started eating, he was absorbed, feeling that special satiation once more. It was delicious, especially the meatballs. What they were made of, he didn’t know or care. He was feeling more ‘fueled,’ too. The drink especially had a kind of ‘kick’ to it, bestowing a noticeable energy spike.
Lindsay appeared no less hungry as she attacked the food, scarfing it down as if on a mission. Jack was still eating meat and noodles when Lindsay was at the ‘spooning up the broth’ stage.
A gaggle of laughter somewhat behind her made Lindsay look, and a small group of cadets could be seen crowded around the station Jack had been — Frosties. Apparently, Mr. Billswan or Permafrost had said something funny. Lindsay turned back and glanced at Jack’s ‘killed’ shake cup. “Got lured by that ice siren, huh?”
“I’m an easy mark, what can I say?” Jack replied after swallowing a bite. “She seems to have a pretty important powerset. I forgot to ask what club she was in.”
“Guess.”
“A fellow Linewalker, maybe?”
“Close. Nope. She’s a Mantle. Another group known for producing leaders, though they are way more likely to be the obvious faces and icons. Lots of tank types. Guardians, Bruisers.”
“Ironic considering a singer is considered one of the penultimate faces.”
“The truth is that any club can produce a leader. In fact, most of us will lead in some capacity eventually, being the most capable of elites. The randomness of powers ensures some who aren’t inclined or suited. The suitability isn’t always obvious… Memoria can see things in people the rest of us can’t. But those truly inclined for the subtleties of the background are much more likely to find themselves in clubs that celebrate that, so to speak. I certainly don’t talk about this or that leader to besmirch other kinds of potential. I’m from a club with plenty of unsung types myself. If we had nothing but archetypical Linewalkers and Mantles, we’d be completely fragged.”
“Right. I get you. Gotta have minions to boss around.” He grinned, showing it as a flippant comment.
Lindsay rolled her eyes as she sipped some broth off of her spoon. “People who execute commands, when those who make them see a bigger picture. Sometimes that executor makes a sacrifice to eat the ego of their own ideas, so as to suit the larger vision, though they themselves are much, much more than someone’s minion.”
“Preach that teamwork! No need for me to worry about that yet, though. I don’t even know what I’m doing, yet, much less others.”
Lindsay leaned on the table and thrust her spoon at him, giving him a stern look. “You do need to worry about it, Jack. You’ve spent most of your life piloting, fully in control of your solo vessel. Passengers and cargo, not teammates, and you preferred it, didn’t you? But you passed on the option to continue that because you want to grow and be all that you’re capable of. You’re on a multi-manned ship, now — a capital vessel. It’s bigger, it’s badder, but it’s more complicated in every way. Arguably, the biggest complexity is, quite simply, people. People who sometimes suck.”
Jack nodded slowly to this, as Lindsay emphasized each point with the spoon. He glanced at it after. “Food for thought.” He kept his face straight as he maintained rapt eye contact while cramming noodles in his mouth.
His tutor sighed, shook her head, and went back to sipping. He detected a bit of a smirk to her lips at one corner, at least. “My grade for you right now is: Hopeless. Fortunately, that’s a grade, so you can improve it.”
“Seems like that’s both our jobs, so I better.”
“Keep such sentiments up, and you’ll be well on your way to Hopeless Plus.”
“Oooh.” As they both continued scarfing down, Jack added, “I hope Extra Credit can include more eating.”
“Oh, you’ll eat, but it will be in-between busting your ass. You’ll need the fuel.”
“Shucks.”
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sticking, too. This is a big drag on my writing, and it affects long-term exposure, which only gets worse as more decide to take their potshots. I just don't really deal with it well and obsess, especially with how proud I am of this fiction. When you don't get Super Duper Big, or write the right thing, maybe (a nebulous concept), you don't have enough ratings to absorb it and are more vulnerable. 'Mass' is king.
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Who is your favorite met Non so far?