A refreshing thing about stone age people I’d noticed is their general forthrightness. It’s probably best not to generalize, but I’ve found most interactions with the villagers free of guile. Well… other than the smarmy merchant, Barkley, I suppose.

But, speaking with Gak, I knew he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t truly mean. The earnestness of these people proved a welcome change from the world I’d left behind.

Since I had the former barbarian’s ear, while we observed the trench diggers working away, I had to ask his opinions on possible security threats.

The threat of a dragon where the potential moat was concerned, caught me by surprise.

Of course, I was going to hear nosy Dillard’s opinion on the matter too, whether I wanted to or not.

“Why you see no river among us?” Dillard said.

I had no idea what he was talking about until Gak made mention of the village’s natural spring again.

“Aye,” said Gak, “could’ve flowed that source down through her middle. We kept it in the trees where it falls beneath the dirt. Then we collect her in the well.”

“We had our way, we’d dig it out full,” Dillard said. “Run it as a course through Moonlight. Easier collecting that way than from a well, ain’t it?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t completely sure of their meaning.

“Are you saying, you’ve purposely let the spring flow underground, under the village, rather than have it all dug out, and accessible? Like a river?” I said.

Both men nodded. I guess I did understand after all.

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

“He done told ya,” Dillard said. “The Dragon of Stone. Arakawa.”

“The Fifth Dragon,” Gak said, with reverence.

“Arakawa,” I repeated the name, unsteadily. “It likes moats? It likes rivers? What does stone have to do with it?”

Both men appeared confused as to why I’d be confused.

“Turns to stone wherever he perches,” Gak said. “The water brings him out.”

“All water?” I said. “This massive dragon will just show up if you have water around? Doesn’t sound plausible.”

Neither man spoke.

“I just don’t get what the potential river you could’ve had has to do with this particular dragon,” I said.

Dillard frowned. “He just told ya, didn’t he?” He said. “The Fifth Dragon, he comes around when ya got loads of water.”

“Okay, so it’s attracted by a certain volume then,” I said.

This wasn’t all that productive a conversation, I could feel their palpable sense of frustration with me. As though I was immediately supposed to be on their same wavelength where the dragon threat was concerned. I felt it best to change the subject, slightly.

“What about other threats?” I said. “Beyond the T. Rex's, er, the thunder lizards. Beyond the big bugs or crawlies or whatever. What about armies? Battlers, or barbarians, soldiers from other villages? Is that something to worry about here?”

“Aye,” Gak said. “‘Tis, truly. Many rivals would kill us true, given the chance.”

“Really?”

“Used to have raiders ride through,” Dillard said. “Bloody freebooters, ain’t it?”

“Aye,” Gak said with a grave nod. “It’s the bastards on their thrones most vexing to me. Walled cities and their high castles. Bloody fortresses. They’d bring you riders. Columns of cavalry. Haven’t come through in seasons, but they will. They will.”

Great. More things to worry about.

Proctor caught up with me, and Gak went back to join his friends digging.

“What’d you find out?” I asked my friend.

“Weapons are coming along,” Proctor said. “Stacks of spears. Barkley’s people process them quickly. Quite a few arrows. Shields, of course. You’re going to be able to arm a good deal of security employees.”

“If you’d been here for the conversation I’d just had, that’s welcome news,” I said.

“Oh?” Proctor said. “Anything in particular I should be concerned with?”

“Just, well, you already know,” I said, “it’s a dangerous world.”

“Indeed.”

Before I could utter another word, bold text punched my eyeballs.

[ATTENTION HUMAN!

This is the System speaking.

You will not commence a baseball season in April. You may have been working toward beginning a baseball season in spring. This will not happen.

Prepare for tournament play in April.

All preparations must be ramped up. You are expected to field a successful baseball team. You are expected to operate a successful baseball franchise.

Failure can be fatal.

We reserve the right to eliminate you, as franchise owner, and/or villagers, as those your franchise represents.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

You are expected to fulfill in game tasks, and achievements. You are expected to finish tournament play having won the requisite number of games while also fulfilling various benchmarks.

You will be informed of what is expected at the appropriate time.

Prepare to enter a large baseball tournament in lieu of a season, in lieu of league play.

This, as with all things, is subject to change.

Thank you for your cooperation.]

A rather shocking turn of events, putting it mildly. I have a tendency to understate when I’m overwhelmed. Could probably call that a coping mechanism.

Proctor seemed to take it in stride when I read the message to him. “We knew we were preparing for play in spring anyway,” he said. “It’s not as though this news changes anything from the point of view of preparation.”

“I just don’t like the way they whiplash you around,” I said. “Like they just expect you adjust to whatever they want with little to no warning.”

“I understand the frustration,” Proctor said. “We still have a bit of time.”

“A bit,” I said. “Not a lot. Not enough.

“It’ll never be enough,” Proctor said. “That feeling of running to catch up, unfortunately, I believe it’s a feeling you’re going to need to become entirely accustomed to. Your inconvenience is their entertainment.”

“They’re likely listening to this conversation right now,” I said.

“Likely.”

“Makes me wonder,” I said, and my tone turned solemn thinking of those we’d lost, “what was the point of having Aubrey here, and Zane? Chai?”

“I’m at a loss there,” Proctor said.

“We don’t even know if Chai’s still alive,” I said. “She wasn’t the most pleasant person, but I didn’t wish her gone.”

“She may have made her way to safety,” Proctor said. “It’s a wide world out there. You can never be certain.”

“About anything,” I said. “As much as hated my former life, and sure, as much as relished the idea of starting over… everything… over. Still, I don’t like the way it’s all being done.”

“I hear you,” Proctor said. “I really do.”

My thoughts quickly pivoted, however. As much angst as I’d possessed, I also felt that nagging ticking clock at the back of my psyche. Like it or not, progress had to happen. Didn’t seem to matter if we were in our former modern world or this ancient one, progress often came down to money.

“How much gold is left?” I said.

“Sad news on that front, I’m afraid,” Proctor said. “We’re dwindling now.”

“But, we’ll get paid if we win,” I said.

Proctor nodded. “We win, we profit,” he said. “Indeed. We have the climate incentive as well.”

“Right,” I said. “It’ll get warmer here, in general.”

“Yes.”

“Which means, better baseball weather, right?” I said.

“Ideally.”

“Which means better results on the field, more wins, etc,” I said. “More gold. I suppose we could have an easier time recruiting better players that way? The more attractive we can make this place, as a place people will want to come?”

“It would help our beautification efforts,” Proctor said. “It would help us improving village infrastructure, no doubt. The knock on effects of winning are myriad.”

“So, we need to do well in this tournament, is what you’re telling me,” I said.

“You already knew as much.”

He was right. I guess I just needed to say it out loud to solidify it in my own brain, convince myself I was in control, and that I could do it… or, fool myself into believing I would.

“You think the other villages in our area, the Murphy Mountains and such,” I said. “You think they have rosters full of players yet? I haven’t even begun to put a team together. Where you think the other places are, in terms of that?”

“Difficult to say, obviously,” Proctor said. “We’ve never visited these other places.”

“I’m afraid to,” I said. “I picture rolling up into one of these rival places, and being arrow'd through the heart, or beheaded by a sword.”

Proctor’s eyes bulged. “A tad dramatic,” I said. “I’m not certain that’s what would happen. But, I understand your fear. Without someone visiting these places, however, it’s difficult to know, obviously, what progress they’ve made in terms of putting a team together. I doubt other franchise owners has your innate ability to see overall future potential. No one else has this text vision of yours. It’s a wonderful, massive advantage, you realize?”

He made a great point, and I don’t why I was having such a hard time being grateful for this power.

“Do you suppose these other places have these soda machines, too?” I said.

“I doubt it,” Proctor said. “We must make sure we take full advantage of these performance enhancers.”

I had to laugh at Proctor’s choice of words.

“Performance enhancers,” I said. “A baseball team on steroids.”

“An entire franchise,” Proctor said. “But, these things have been granted to you by the System. They’ve put their thumb on the scale for you. You could see that as them wanting you to win. Take solace in that.”

Even when I’d get down, and certain I was facing doom, and about to drag an entire village of people down with me, Proctor had a way of turning it around so I could see it from a healthier perspective.

“I suppose these gifts are things that could pay dividends for all of Moonlight, right?” I said.

“Yes,” Proctor said. “Imagine what magic can do to build village infrastructure. You could potentially, dramatically change the lives of the people here. Sewage systems, proper roads. You could build civilization.”

His words sent a chill up my back. Not in a good way. Maybe you’d think it weak willed, but I didn’t like the pressure his words implied.

“I’m here, apparently, to play baseball. To run a baseball team,” I said. “I drove a bus in my former life. You’re making me sound like I’m supposed to be George Washington.”

Proctor chuckled. “My friend,” he said. “Unfortunately for you, and I have a feeling you’re going to find this out more and more as you go, these abilities of yours are going to make you more of a Founder type of figure than perhaps you could even fathom right now.”

I bristled at this immediately.

“It’s not something I want,” I said. “I don’t want that role. I want to operate the franchise, that’s fine. But, this whole thing about building sewers and streets? Forget that?”

“I would invite you to think about what you’ve just said,” Proctor said. “How are building sewers and streets, as you’ve put it, mutually exclusive from building a successful franchise which represents this whole area? I would argue they’re all connected. Think about it. The better you set this place up, as a destination, as a desirable place… no, the better you make everything for the people who live here, well… you’ve set up a strong foundation upon which to build a strong franchise, haven’t you?”

Remind me to never get into a legal dispute with this man.

“And, the better we’ll be able to keep us all safe too, right?” I said.

I didn’t even really need to ask, I already knew ‘yes’ was the answer to that question, and Proctor said as much.

“The dinosaurs, the giant insects,” he said, “whatever lurks out there, we’re going to have an easier time dealing with them the stronger we make this place in every aspect possible.”

I exhaled pretty loudly, and concentrated my gaze upon the trench diggers.

“I’d hate to build some crazy intricate society here full of modernisms, only to have that torn down the way those stupid centipedes wrecked most of the village completely out of nowhere,” I said. “You know, Proctor? We could do everything you’ve talked about, and boom! It’s all gone in an instant. And, then all the gold you’ve spent, all the soda you’ve drunk, all the hopes you’ve tempted and brought to life among the people here, all the wins on the ball field we’ve put up… what would any of it be for if it’s all knocked down in thirty seconds at the whim of some crazy beast who goes nuts in our village, thrashing around… just because?”

Proctor stepped forward, and he put a hand on my shoulder. Uncustomary for him.

“My friend,” he said, “humans have been asking themselves that question since there’s been humans. Why do anything? Why get out of bed in the morning? You’re experiencing existential dread, and I get it. I understand where it’s coming from, but unfortunately, you’re going to have to move past it. Because if you don’t… well…”