"I don't think the scope of what the older Samurai can do is something people can wrap their minds around. All the magic, the destruction, the creation, almost all of what you see in the feeds is Class Two tech, what they call tier two technology. That's stuff just beyond what humans could do with say another five hundred years of tech. Tier two is like two-thousand years away. And not to get back on the topic of aquatic incursions, but they are much larger and thus give the Samurai involved that many more points. Further there is very little human interest in monitoring the sea. They can wipe out huge areas of life, then use their tech to rebuild and replace. There is a reason the Samurai that deal with aquatic incursions tend to go non-human or post-human the fastest. They have points. What does a Samurai do with points, buy stuff. Which brings me to my main point. We've got famous Samurai on the surface that might have several tier three tech trees open, some possibly with tier four, rumors that the oldest might have tier five. People can't even guess at what three can do, and there might be some with five? Yet we know the world is mostly water, the aquatic incursions are more frequent and often go unnoticed for longer meaning larger hives. The battles that happen every day under the surface are-"

Excerpt of Discussion from Fat Joe's Morning Munchy Hour.

----------------------------------------

I was shaking my head with wonder thinking about building a ship from the material mined from asteroids, and using fuel scooped up from Jupiter. He'd put almost all of his points into nanite catalogs, and ended up with at least one tier four catalog. Constructing and changing matter was a very quick and fluid experience. The distance and time frames were quite staggering to imagine.

"Oh!" Sara said, "I forgot about breakfast."

She dipped back into her virtual space and began working again.

I let out a sigh.

"So the guides are missing needed information and therefore aren't the best path to follow?"

"Best path requires me to have evaluated all the paths. These guides are well thought out and have considered many aspects that would likely be of benefit to you."

"Give me an example."

"My predictive model of you suggests you will likely eventually create a printer that can produce shelf stable and nutritious foodstuff. Likely canned food and juice-boxes. You will do this to help humanity by providing cheap-to-them calories while also providing nutrition without the addictive additives in mass produced food. The guides have a very though break down on risks associated with such an action, as well as benefits. Further they have examined what appears to be historically similar events."

"What's a risk to doing that?" I asked. I might be able to come up with some, but it seemed like a win win to me. Printers, at least Samurai printers could takes trash or even raw sewage and convert it into other things so long as they had electrical power and the needed material.

"They predict that eventually there will either be knock-off products, or legitimate packaged products that are refilled that are poisoned deliberately by corporations who have sales in decline because of your products as an attempt to cut you out of the market or to hurt sales or your image. They cite conspiracy theorists that believe Long-Bow's breakfast cereal is a long term campaign to first get people used to eating it, and then, when the market share is large enough, to sterilize everyone who eats it. While the conspiracy has no merit, the fact that many people refuse to buy Samurai printed goods because they don't trust them, is a very real."

"And their suggestion to avoid something like that?"

"There are many different aspects, but many revolve around the idea that you 'get into bed' with the corporations." I could somehow hear the quotes even though I didn't really hear Max's words at all. They were just in my head, and yet the phrase, 'get into bed' was clearly somehow different.

"They suggest you pick a product that you like, enter into a sponsorship agreement with that company that allows you to produce a slightly different product with a new flavor or gimmick. You then produce the product yourself and sell through them, letting them deal with all the extraneous issues, marketing, corporate espionage and the like. Since the real goal is to flood the market with nutritious food any profits made or denied are immaterial. The company can believe they have won the exchange because their goal to maximize profit is not your goal to maximize well being and reduce hunger."

"That's- that's really good advice actually. What else do they suggest?"

"There is a suggestion that you advocate for human operated logistics, at least at the local level. Instead of delivering items via automated cargo hauler and unloader. Use humans. It allows more people to work, but more importantly allows items to be stolen while loading or unloading by claiming a certain percentage of packages were damaged. A secondary market of cheap stolen foodstuff tends to end up in the bellies of those who need nutrition the most. It then goes on to say that you should hire compliance officers and loss prevention officers that have a history of accepting bribes. To increase camera access in manufacturing areas where theft could lead to safety concerns but to limit or eliminate cameras in places like warehouses or loading docks. The guide includes a historical anecdote you might enjoy."

"Okay," I said, a little surprised, "hit me with it."

"After the Seven Years War people began to starve. When King Frederick II of Prussia, Frederick the Great, learned potatoes, which came from South America, were easy to grow, and could provide more nutritious food, grown faster, and on less land than any other food crop he was determined to introduce them to his people. He filled a large field with the crop and explained the nutritional and economic value of the crop to his people. There was however a worldwide stigma against potatoes, much like the guide claims, there is a stigma against printed food. The stigma against potatoes, combined with being told what to eat that Frederick's people refused to eat potatoes. Frederick taking note that the populous was stubborn but prone to theft ordered his soldiers to guard the potato field but to be lazy about their patrols at night. The well guarded diurnal field was seen as valuable and after the sun set and the nocturnal guards visibly shirked their duties, people began to steal the seemingly valuable potato plants and replant them in their own plots."

"Is that really in the guides or is that just a story you spun up?"

"It is in the guides and as far as I can tell a semi-factual accounting of the potatoes' history."

"So I just happen to be named Fredric who wants to give food away, and there happens to be a guy named Fredrick the Great who wanted to give food away, and he figured out all the problems I'm going to face and solved them and I should just copy him?"

"I suppose your other choice is to believe this was a prank and that I altered all records of human history to include Fredrick the Great and the introduction of potatoes to an unwilling populous."

I smiled and then felt that chill.

"Could you do that?"

"Not with the access I have now, and there are likely printed records as well that would either need to be changed or diluted with many more written records holding the false information. Then again even though there are written records how many people would see them, or believe anyone else that claimed a Samurai had changed history?"

"That's terrifying," I whispered.

There was a huge noise behind me, like something had broken free. I jerked forward and then got to my feet.

Max said, "There is a hover vehicle approaching the train. The train is deploying counter-measures."

I heard something begin rotating as Sara shouted over the noise, "Helmet!"

In minutes it was over. The Gatling gun stored in the car and deployed above, though it never fired, and instead folded itself away after the threat left the area. I swore at Max for a while, but it became clear I was the fool. Every other car was a flat bed carrying cargo containers. Only the anti-theft cars had any space in them for high value packages, or in this case empty space for us to hitch a ride.

"I've almost got breakfast ordered," Sara said, "but I can order it as is if you don't want to wait any longer?"

"Take your time," I said fishing around in the single duffle bag I'd brought. It had our weapons in it as well as a few other things like one of the thumpers and one of the smaller aerial mapping drones. It wasn't the long range fixed wing kind but a small quadcopter the size of my palm with an insane camera and mapping suite, and it was only tier one technology.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I pulled the six pack of beer out and then fished around to see if there was a juice box left.

I pulled one of the beers out, asked Max if there would be any other trains by in the next half hour or so, and when she said no I had her open the door.

I watched the world roll by us. This track was built post Samurai. I could tell because it was perfectly level. When the ground dipped low it was built up on supports. When the ground rose up there was a wide trench cut through the earth. Mostly we seemed to be on a five to six foot elevation.

I lifted the beer and noticed the cap was still on.

I stepped away from the door so I didn't do something stupid like slip, then tried twisting the cap off.

Then I stared at it.

It wasn't a mass produced thing so there were no instructions but the bottle cap didn't look threaded. What the hell? I needed a bottle opener? I hadn't seen a package that wasn't openable with only human hands in the last decade.

"Max give me a can opener," I said.

"While it is a class zero item I must charge you a minimum of one point. Do you still want it?"

I hadn't looked at my points or thought about them in a long time. And after a moment I guess it didn't matter how many I had. It's not like you'd leave all the lights on in the apartment when you left even if you were rich. Some things were just a waste of credits, and this would be a waste of a point. Besides Sara was trying to get us a decent meal on one point and I'd use the equivalent on a single piece of metal.

"No," I said.

Just then two large crates appeared just above the floor. They dropped perhaps half an inch. They were five feet long, two wide, and two feet tall. They were huge.

"Food," Sara said. Then she noticed the beer in my hand looked at my opposite hand and then up at me.

"Let's see if the can opener works for that," she said.

There was food, but also plates, napkins, water, a small collapsible toilet, forks, spoons, knives, a can opener, two knives, spices and seasoning, and lots and lots of various food pouches.

She found various packages and minutes later handed me a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, link sausage, and slices of bacon. Everything was steaming and with the doors closed the smells were trapped in the car.

"Is it real meat?"

"Oh yes," she said with a large grin.

"I've never eaten real bacon or sausage," I said. "Do you think it will taste like the plant-based stuff?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Sara asked.

"Because maybe it's like orange juice and the flavor has drifted over time to cheaper and cheaper material and manufacturing so that the public drinks imitation orange juice and thinks it tastes real but if you ever have the real stuff-" I paused. Her face was very very blank.

"You have real orange juice in there?"

"Yes. The packages can only heat the food, there is no way to cool it, but give me a second."

The bacon, eggs, and sausage all tasted great if slightly off compared to the fake stuff I'd eaten for most of my life. The potatoes, the real potatoes were so much better than the fake stuff. Sara thought it might be that they were cooked in butter, but since she'd never had real butter either we didn't know. The orange juice made her wrinkle her nose and then slowly swallow.

"You're right," she said seriously, "This is nasty?"

"Actually," I said with a grin, "the stuff we drink is the nasty stuff but we got used to it and think it's the good stuff."

She sipped at the cup again and grimaced. My smile faltered. People had a false idea of how orange juice tasted because over time corporations changed the taste little by little until it was vastly different. Give real orange juice and the manufactured juice that is orange colored to people and most would tell you the real stuff didn't taste real. They'd be wrong, but did that matter if most of them believed it? I wondered if Max could change history and get away with it. I didn't ask though because I didn't want to know the answer.

"How is it?" I asked Sara as she set the open bottle of beer on her leg.

"It's not bad. Heavier than I normally get of course."

I tasted it, swirling the liquid around my mouth.

"And?" she asked.

"It tastes sort of bad," I said, "but it's my first time tasting beer."

She started to say something and then stopped. Alcohol in the slums and poorer places was strong stuff made to degrease tools and knock out drunks. Beer was something most people hadn't tried. It was seen as frivolous. Why spend credits on something with less alcohol content when you could just buy vodka in a can from the vending machine. Want to get less drunk? Drink less of it.

"Are you going to tell him you didn't like it?" she asked.

"I'll finish my three, maybe they will grow on me."

I held the beer in my left hand tapping the bottle with my thumb as it rested on my thigh.

I caught Sara staring at my beer a few times before I asked, "Did you want this?"

I asked with a smile, but she looked from me to the beer and back without humor.

"Paula says you won't talk to her about it."

Suddenly the train car across North America didn't feel like an escape and adventure, but a trap.

I took another swallow of the beer.

I watched my thumb tapping on the beer bottle. Except the glove was empty. It was something I'd bought quickly because the other option involved butchering my hand and getting a prosthetic. Or going cyborg with some sort of implants, or doing what I'd done to Troy. Paula sent me updates and kept me informed. Troy's flesh had grown wild and lumpy at first. When I'd last seen him he looked something like the elephant man. Then it slowly deflated and though we didn't see him before we left, timeline wise he was mostly healed at that point.

He was still scarred up but Max said that was easily solvable with a regenerative inhaler once we got back.

"People forget that Samurai are still human," she said softly, "that they are still social creatures, and no matter how much they change or improve themselves they still need people they can trust. The Operator Network exists in part to be there for Samurai in this way. I am I happy to be there for you in that way. But you should call Paula and talk to her about it."

"I can fix it in an instant," I said.

"There are combat vets and survivors of incursions who have prosthetics they didn't ask for. A big part of your body accepting a piece of chrome is your mind accepting it. To some people it's like clothing or tattoos. The flesh really isn't them, just the container they are in. But to other people, they are their body and the loss-"

"Enough," I said calmly. She stopped speaking.

"I will organize the food into meals," she said. As she stood she hesitated and then added, "I put a post on the forums like you asked."

I must have raised an eyebrow or something because she continued, "About having Max help with things. The mods locked it down and are in discussion about how to ethically vet questions. Like not let through questions that might be used to stalk someone or if infringing on a patent is legal, or creating a patent, all that stuff. They also put a Vanguard lock on it. Some sort of encryption check or something. I'll send the link to you."

I received the link and then sub-vocalized, "Max can you work on a solution for that?"

"It took longer to transfer the puzzle than to break it," Max replied.

"Send the solution back with a message to the mods asking them to allow all posts, we can sort through them on our end."

Four to five seconds later Max spoke up again, "The mods have unlocked the post and thanked you. There were posts that were locked previously would you like to approve some?"

I spent twenty minutes looking at the problems and having Max explain some of the solutions she proposed. There were lots of specific questions. For instance a question asking about the leading edge of a propeller to be used in water to drive a large electric boat.

The problem with these types of questions, someone had posted below, was they the AI might just answer it. It's not a general AI, this is a god-thing. Instead of asking about the leading edge, perhaps ask about the whole propeller, or better yet, 'What is the most energy efficient way to ship cargo up the XYZ river?' The AI can tie into weather, wind speed current, water conditions, salinity, etc.

Max answered the question about the leading edge including links to various engineering sites so the poster could learn. Then replied to the second poster with drawings for what looked like a large kite attached to a boat, and a second set of drawings for power-craft.

Hundreds of pages of technical documents all created and posted in mere moments.

"Can you make another post, authenticate it with the puzzle. Ask who people are, where they are located who the work for, all that. The mods can keep it private from everyone but you can't they."

"There are provisions for such secured communication, assuming 'all others' excludes Vanguard AI and humans with Class Two hacking technology."

I felt foolish about asking to join a group chat with amputees and people with body dysmorphia. It was nothing in the long run. I could buy my way out of any hole.

"Max what would I have to get something that regrows my missing fingers and flesh?"

"You already have access to the Mark II regenerative nanite suite. The same one that you purchased for Troy to regrow his flesh. You also have a Flesh Shaper Class One catalog. There are some devices within in, but purchasing a Class Two catalog would allow you to morphically change your body, albeit slowly over the course of hours or days. The Class Three catalog would allow near instantaneous changes and greatly reduce the need to train in non-native forms."

"Training?"

"The Class Two technology would allow you to take the shape of a bear for instance, but you'd not have the skills of a bear, even walking around could be difficult to get used to. An organism with a greater degree of difference like an octopus or shrimp would be even more different."

"Shrimp?"

"Many shrimp have vastly superior eyesight than humans and as such the overload would likely leave you comatose for several days as you would have no way to remove the stimulus."

Half a moment later I grinned.

"Max did you just make a joke about shrimp not having eye-lids."

"They do not, and I did not."

My mood plunged again.

"Can you buy me a regenerative suite without Sara seeing it?"

"For two additional points It can have be attached to a cila-drone, auto-inject, and then reduce to dust and be transported into your body with it's own nanite swarm."

"Okay."

"Your remaining points after purchase-"

"No!" I said out loud. Sara swiped everything away and stared at me.

"No Max," I said out loud before leaning back, "I don't want to know my point total."

"Why?"

"Because then I'd have to do something. Like if I have enough points to buy a hovercar why are we taking the train?"

"That is illogical," Max said.

"I just need time to work through this- this- becoming a Samurai."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?" I asked with a sigh.

"Working though the acceptance of your new reality?"

Silence stretched and I noticed Sara was very much watching me while pretending to type and communicate with others.

"No," I sighed.