Chapter 57: Boring Stuff, Prototype, and Rat-tongue

  Alright, with a good amount of re-arranging and back and forth with Sia, I think I finally have my progression figured out. I think. In addition, Sia did some self-upgrading and re-organizing of her internals.

  Previously, my ‘Character Sheet’, for lack of a better term, had me at 17 out of 25 [Skill]s/[Spell]s/Advancements towards [Level; 4]. When I counted them, I found 18; not a huge deal, the counting error could be glossed over for the fact the Sia was not even a [Mark 1.0]. Clerical error.

  I had always questioned how any of this crap was determined in the first place. To Sia, it had simply been programmed in the way it was, because of course. She was an AI, duh.

  //My line//

  The locals describe [Level]s, [Class]ess—yada-yada-yada—as feelings, or measured with (not) crystal balls and various other paraphernalia. Esoteric and all mystical woo-woo.

  //But I am an AI//

  ‘Duh.’

  Sia agreed, taking a note from me. Why did the…Universe? Mother of Trees?…count [Skill]s versus [Spell]s, or so on and so such, differently? It was all about the [mana]…

  “Because you know I’m all about that bass ([mana]), ‘Bout that bass ([mana])…”

  …how much you could handle, how efficient you were with it, and how skillful. That’s it. Sia had also talked with Sai—that’s a mouthful—and found that Tess’s AI had swapped around some [Skill]s and [Spell]s, moving them from one folder to the other. So, simple solution, at least in theory if not practice.

  Theory does not equal practice.

  What would seem like a simple re-labeling of a folder, turned out to be far more complex. This led to that, and Sia went down the rabbit hole, programming-wise. It was analogous to a neurosurgeon performing surgery on their own noggin—unwise. There followed a whole slew of boring stuff.

  //I am bored//

  ‘Me too.’

  Short story, there really is a reason for the separation, as they used differing neuron pathways and magical meridians. Sia screwed the pooch. But, in her mucking about, she managed to create a so-called limbo list.

  OK, brain—‘not you!’—let’s recap. The little (v…) is how many times a [Skill] has evolved; the {Error}[Limbo]{Error} is where Sia is storing future gains, in a sort of holding pattern. It took up not an insignificant amount of processing power, but this close to the next [Level] it was doable. Ally my [ink]s were together for convenience, except the (Flex) which was my next free time—ha!—project. And I still only had one [Spell]—*frown*.

  So, three [Skill]/[Spell]/Advances to max out the [Level] and then one last to push me over the threshold. Only spots available; [Spell]s. That left advancing existing spots. Again, doable.

  //Stop already, would’ya?//

  ‘Fine, no more, Ok, alright already…’

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  //STOP!//

  Eeep! That gave me a headache, but no zap!, so progress.

  “Hey, Book! I think I have figured out…are you OK?” Magali came waltzing down the upstairs to the main room of the townhouse where I was lounging on a second-hand recliner. What this place needed was a dozen or so bean-bag chairs and poofs.

  “Yeah, Magali,” I said, still rubbing my temples. “Just a little headache, that’s all.”

  “But not one of your…migraines?”

  “Nah, at least not yet.” I gave him a grim smile. Four more whatsits and then the big bang. I’d need to make sure Tess was around. She’d told me she was almost there, as well. But—ha!—I’m almost a full [Level] ahead of her.

  //My money is still on her in a fight//

  ‘Well, duh. And what money?’

  //Fifty percent of any intellectual property you get from me//

  Fair.

  ‘Twenty-five percent.’ I had to, he-he.

  “Watcha got figured?”

  “Oh, the quick-release piping. Although, and I hate to say it, [Enchant]ed gems would work better.”

  “True, but I’m a [Scrivener]…

  “…not an [Enchanter].”

  “Tak?”

  “No, gemstones is a completely different discipline.”

  “Too bad. Where is she, anyway?”

  “She went to talk to her father, see about the equipment.”

  “I told her I’d…”

  “She knows, and I said the same thing when she told me. I think it is something that she has to do for herself.”

  “Probably best, I guess. Well, I hope she has some luck.”

  “Back to the point, I went with the wrap-around idea, an over-the-pipe, clamp-on addition with room to insert a scroll into it.”

  “Cool,” was that a saying here?

  //*Sigh*, another item on the list, I suppose?//

  ‘You betcha.’ There was literally a list function now, yippee! ‘And add bean-bag chairs, too!’

  //You just want people to call you ‘cool’//

  “Maldyn, of all people, is helping to make it,” Magali’s surprise was contagious.

  Really? Maldyn had a practical use?

  My friend went on before I could question it. “It seems one of his apprenticeships was to a pipe-fitter, I kid you not. He seems to always know a little bit about a lot of things.”

  “But not good at any of them? A 'jack of no trades'.” Magali’s smile was all the confirmation I needed. “Where is he, by the way? At the Alchemy Guild?”

  “No, no!” Speak of the devil; His Darkness burst through the front door off of the outside street and strode over to where we were hanging. “No time for that nonsense, Book. I’ve got real work to do now!” In his arms was a long object covered in a tarp. He set the bundle down on a battered coffee table—let’s just say all our furniture fit in that category; second-hand and…well-loved (//cheap//)—then whipped the covering off with a “ta-da!”

  Sitting there was a hinged, metal pipe with a handle along its length. It looked like something I had seen in an old movie—peace, Dad!—about WWII submarines, a clamp the sailors used to seal off leaks in burst pipes. Exactly where I’d gotten the idea from, no shame. My otherworldly knowledge was standing me in good stead here; score for the transplant!

  “See,” Maldyn was happy to explain. “This latch releases it, and the replacement scrolls slip into this slot, wrapping it completely around the pipe. Magali drew up some great detailed plans, then I ran with it.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. “Ran to someone who could make it?”

  “Yes, exactly!” Whoa, he admitted it? “I’ve never been good with my hands, but I’ve studied under a ton of Masters, so I knew where to take it.”

  Dude was self-aware, who’d a’ thought?

  //You do know that you talked bad about Mater Alric at first, too?//

  Crap, was I the problem?

  //*Snort!* In this case, no//

  No, the others felt the same. I know they did.

  ‘Stop screwing with my head!’

  //Never//

  “I think we’ve found your specialty, Maldyn,” I quipped, and he gave me a hearty laugh.

  “I know all kinds of crafters since I’ve been fired from most of them!”

  “I probably could have made it,” Magali said, and I absolutely believed he could. “But Maldyn had the free time. I have to spend enough time at the shop to placate my dad, and I’ve star’ed a proje’ a myown.”

  “Oh? Something for the co-op?” That came out selfish, so I tried again. “Or something we can help you with?”

  “Nono, I wanna wor’ it me-self.” Wow, he must be excited. “Thanks for the offa’. Maldyn? I migh’ ne some names from ya’.”

  “Sure, dude. No problems.”

  How come Tess’s slang took off, but mine didn’t?

  //The source//

  ‘Wha’eva’.

  “Whatever you need—time, materials, etc., just let us know, OK?”

  “Of course. Thanks, Book. I won’t let it interfere with…”

  I held up a hand, classic stop speaking. “No worries, buddy. Do what you need, we’ve got you.” And I meant it.

  “What…?” Maldyn started to ask, because of course he did. I waved him off.

  “Doesn’t matter; it’s all good. So,” I changed the subject. “Where does this maguffin attach?”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t bother; you’ll get used to it, Maldyn. For our purposes, I framed a permanent cutout in the wall in front of the pipes, about chest high, for easy access. But that only works because we’re re-building this place almost from scratch.”

  “Yes, yes. We’ve been talking it over, Book, and this is our personal tryout.”

  “Prototype,” I said, then explained. “The first, preliminary model; at least, that is what I’ve always heard it called.”

  “Prototype?” Maldyn tried out the word, and I saw Magali silently mouthing it as well. I could tell they both liked the word (//mind reader?//). “I like it.”

  ‘Told ya’!’

  “If we want to take it to market, we’ll need to find a different way, one that works with the existing plumbing.” Ah, Magali the Practical.

  “Once we prove this way works, I’ll get my uncle to come over and see it. He might finance us.”

  “A proof of concept,” I pitched another phrase, and they both ate it up. I think Magali even wrote it down. He’d been fiddling with his clipboard and notes through the whole conversation.

  “Speaking of, do you think you can get him to reimburse us for some of the bigger items? Our group funds are starting to run low, and I know that you need some more supplies, right Book?”

  “I…” Maldyn’s hesitation was telling. “I’m not sure. He’s pretty tight unless he is getting something in return, that is.”

  Typical businessman, huh?

  //Or slum lord//

  ‘It’s not that bad. The location is prime.’

  //And so is the rodent breeding ground in the back courtyard//

  Ew, rats. Their hairless, whipping tails were an affront to nature. Ick!

  //Stormy is certainly fattening up//

  ‘Nasty! He licks me with that tongue, you know.’

  //Ew, rat-tongue//

  Aaaand, we are moving along. Although, our…

  //Tess’s//

  …’our’ cat loves the new place. Tess and I were slowly moving over—not that we had much, aside from the cat—but we kept the apartment, strictly for the showers. Most of my expanding group of friends were using it. Which was my plan, he-he. It had sure sped up the plumbing timetable, exampled by Magali being here during the day.

  “So, Maldyn,” I said. I hate to say it, but the guy was growing on me.

  //Like a carbuncle. You said the same about Kolin, too. I’m starting to sense a pattern here//

  ‘My mind is a grand tapestry, now shut up.’

  “What, Book?” Part of the dislike was Maldyn’s constant state of defensiveness.

  “Are you taking time off from the Guild?”

  “No, I quit.”

  Oh, how Gaelia must be dancing, not having to work and live—soon—with the guy. Even if he was getting better, there was still a certain threshold limit to his presence.

  “It wasn’t worth it, not now that I have the house and you all. It was mainly my uncle, wanting me to ‘make something of myself’, or ‘be a useful member of society’; he was always saying stupid things like that. Since I found my own thing, he should leave me alone now.”

  “But you will still show him the [heat]ed pipes?” I asked, ignoring his cluelessness. I knew we’d need the funding.

  “And the big items? We really can’t afford everything we are planning to do with place, not without help.” I could tell Magali was worried, which made me worried. Had we bit off too much?

  “I wouldn’t hold out too much hope, guys. Sorry.” Maldyn seemed genuine enough. “I can pitch in more; he gives me a good allowance.”

  //Allowance? This guy is even older than you!//

  ‘Then think of it as a trust fund, you old biddy.’

  “Noooo,” I unintentionally stretched the word out, showcasing my reluctance. “We need to keep things balanced, so one of us isn’t putting in more than the rest. We don’t want any resentment.”

  //Stop; being the martyr is unbecoming of my host//

  Eck, bad choice of words.

  “Actually, Book, Paytin wants to talk to you about that,” Magali told me. “You know she keeps the accounts, and it is no secret to the rest of us that you put in more than your share. Paying for equipment and supplies”—yeah, I've done that, too. A lot of places liked my prairie rose, I even had orders for some custom scents. “And your scrolls will be the major seller. We need to revise the partnership shares, and ‘keep things balanced’, as you said. You are owed more—don’t protest—and Maldyn’s contribution might need to be more in liquid capital.”

  So, ‘liquid capital’ is a term here? Neat.

  “That is good with me,” Maldyn said.

  I started to protest but stopped when Tess burst in on us from the back courtyard and said the worst phrase any of us had ever heard.

  “Yo, dudes! If you have time to sit, you have time to train!”

  “Crap.”

  “Damn.”

  “Do we have to?”

  I won’t say who whined that last one.

  //No need//