Beginning Calibration Record. Zone 32, Byron Bay Village; Corporate Civilization 111
Finnegan didn’t like losing. So he made sure to do so as little as possible.
But now, despite his establishment being a higher level than Noah’s, it was falling behind in terms of reputation and prestige, if not customers and revenue.
Though if the chatter he’d been hearing from said customers was anything to go by, he’d be surpassed soon in that as well.
He may have had fantastic Japanese toilets, but what he didn’t have was a Titan-class tower growing from the back of his hotel, nor extremely delicious—so he’d heard—pastries.
He needed to do something about it, but the problem was the whole town was a safe zone.
His reaction to want to get rid of Noah had come as a bit of a shock to him, and it had taken him a good few hours to accept that it wasn’t just a fleeting fancy. In the old world he never would have considered something so… final.
But this wasn’t the old world.
There were plenty of high-rankers around who could easily deal with Noah, and pointing out that he was number one on the Hero Board seemed an ideal way to recruit someone to the task. But he was having a decidedly hard time getting anyone interested.
Which was absurd. If a subsystem was even a fraction as good as a system, it was the best prize anyone could hope for.
He’d leapt for joy upon reading that message, expecting all his woes to be solved by it. Well, he’d expected them to be solved by virtue of Noah being stuck inside the tower.
Which Noah also owned.
And when he’d found out that it was Titan-class? Well, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he danced a little jig.
Then the whole thing had come crumbling down as the tower was evacuated followed by a pause to the Hero Board contest, leaving Finnegan to have to deal with Noah himself.
Not to mention he’d had to suffer the indignity of that frog-representative coming around and trying to convince him to sell his hotel so he could buy the store—and its attached tower—from Noah.
Finnegan had obviously declined. He wasn’t about to give up that easily. Sure, Noah would no longer have owned the store, but it wouldn’t have gotten rid of him.
He wanted Noah not just gone from town, but gone for good.
It was bad enough Emma fawned all over him, now he would soon be richer than Finnegan, if things kept on as they were.
Finnegan was a patient man, and tolerated many things, but having Noah become richer than he was, was a bridge too far.
This all in mind, he’d come up with a plan that didn’t rely on anyone but himself.
It always came down to the old truism: do something yourself if you want it done right.
And now, as he put on a smile and approached Noah, giving what he was sure was a friendly wave, he intended to do just that.
∎ ∎ ∎
The calibration record ends and Noah doesn’t have to feign relief. It’s just not the kind of relief the Interviewer is likely to assume it is.
Finally, Noah is getting somewhere.
These records are exactly what he’s been hoping to get.
And that’s not the only reason he’s relieved. He was worried about becoming dissociated, but he’s managed to keep his wits about him.
Integrating broadcasts is dangerous enough, but calibration records are specifically crafted to disassociate the integrator, to make their wills malleable, their memories susceptible to outside observation and possibly even control, so that the differences between the raw events and how the mind interpreted them—the narrative it formed—would be revealed, allowing the Interviewer to back-patch the results and generate a pattern of differences, thereby retrieving the truth—the simple recall of events to the extent they’d been captured within Noah’s mind—from Noah’s recounting.
From there, along with other interviews, broadcasts, and other sources of information, the full truth could be pieced together.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
It is a difficult task, nearly impossible. But one to which the Interviewer is uniquely suited.
Normally there’s no way to obtain access to calibration records, but Noah’s stalled long enough, constructed enough of a narrative, that the Interviewer has decided it needs calibration.
This may not have been one of the ones he is after, but it nonetheless feels good to finally be getting results.
He was beginning to worry it wasn’t going to happen.
Now it finally has. Everything is going according to plan.
Which makes him suspicious.
∎ ∎ ∎
I heard my name called as I was leaving the hotel after talking with Emma and turned to see Finnegan approaching, giving a very stiff and suspicious-looking wave.
“Finnegan,” I said flatly.
His face twitched, but his politic smile didn’t waver. “I heard you’re interested in buying my hotel.”
“Did you now?”
He chuckled. “Always so skeptical. That salesman came by. Semer-something.”
“Semermen.”
He snapped his fingers. “Semermen, right. Anyway, he wanted the deed to my hotel. I of course declined; the deal was terrible. But it got me thinking; maybe we could work something out. Just between us.”
I frowned at him. “You want to sell me your hotel?”
He nodded eagerly. “This new world’s a tough one. Being in the safe zone’s great and all, but I want to get out and explore. Spread my wings.” He chuckled again for some reason. “I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but you’ve done an admirable job with the store after she left it to you.”
My mood darkened at the mention of her.
“Forced me to run it is more like.”
“Exactly!” he said brightly. “There’s so much more to this new world. I want to get out there. I can’t do that if I’m chained to my hotel.”
“So what is it you’re suggesting?”
He shrugged. “Emma’s already working at the hotel. So I’m thinking, I can sign the deed over to the two of you, and in return you get me some cards. You’ve both amassed quite a collection so quickly.”
That actually made sense, I had to grudgingly admit.
“I don’t have any cards to trade. I’ve used all the ones I’ve found.”
“That’s the beauty of it! I only need an escort. There’s plenty of monsters around. The ones at the beach are too powerful, but just outside of town they’re weaker. I found a Fragment Master—”
“You found a Fragment Master? Where? Who?”
He gestured vaguely in the direction of his hotel. “Can’t recall his name. But he agreed to make me cards if I can gather enough fragments.”
“Why don’t I just pay you in fragments then?”
“You have many ultra-potential fragments?”
I hadn’t even seen any of that type, which he must have read on my face.
He gave a knowing nod. “I’ve been talking with a few of the prospectors staying at my hotel. Not too far outside of town is a spot where several corrupted are gathered. The prospectors left them alone as they’re all quite weak, but still too much for me to handle by myself. I figure we go out and rid the town of them. From what I’ve learned from a few high-ranked prospectors, corrupted are one of the easiest sources of cards and arcana in a NewCiv, which I can either use if they suit me, or trade for the ultra-potential fragments I need.”
“You know you’re talking about people we might know.”
“Better than letting them wander around and kill people they might have known.”
I didn’t like to admit, but he had a point.
“Why don’t you ask one of these powerful prospectors?”
“I don’t have anything they want, sadly. None seem interested in running a hotel. It is quite a lot of work.”
I inspected him, a twitch of his facial muscles betraying his cheerful façade, but I didn’t care.
Finnegan Bartholomew Dalton (Human)
Rank: Copper
Level: 7
“I’m not much stronger than you.”
“But you have more cards. I only have one, and let’s just say it’s not conducive to fighting.”
“So you want me to basically carry you.”
He frowned. “I can walk on my own.”
“It’s— Ah, never mind. I’d be doing all the fighting?”
“My hobby is still pretty low rank, so I was thinking of swapping it out for something more battle-oriented. There’s one that looks like it would help me use guns.”
“Where are you going to get a gun from?”
“You yanks don’t have a monopoly on them.”
I really did want his hotel, and this was a way to get it without selling my store. And if I owned it, I’d own the only two functioning businesses in town. Plus, I liked the idea of Emma and I owning it together.
“So let me get this right, I escort you out, help you deal with the corrupted, you get any cards or whatever that they drop, and you’ll give me and Emma the hotel?”
“Exactly.”
“And how do I know you’ll sign it over?”
“The system can handle that.”
I hadn’t known about this, but I was able to confirm it with a thought, my powerpack subscription giving me a rather salesy reminder of how useful it was.
The system could act as guarantor for any agreement we might come to. Which was too bad, because I would have liked to use my Contract card on him.
But this was probably better. I might mess up using the card somehow. I really needed to practice more with it.
Which escorting him would give me a chance to do.
“How long do you imagine all this would take?”
“No more than a few days. We can set out each morning, then come back at sunset. The spot isn’t very far out of town. It’s not actually out of town at all, just outside the safe zone.”
I was about to reluctantly agree, when someone spoke from way too close nearby.
Judging by Finnegan’s cry of surprise, he was startled as well.
I turned to find Sarixia, dressed this time in an outfit entirely composed of belts of various descriptions. She was standing only a few feet away, though I was certain she hadn’t been there a moment before.
She gestured in the direction of the beach. “It’s getting a bit too crazy for me out there. So many prospectors now. I couldn’t help but overhear your plan. I’d be happy to volunteer my services. It’ll help to have a Steel with you.” As she said this, she looked pointedly at Finnegan.
“Ah, I’m sure we can handle it,” he said uncertainly.
She nodded accommodatingly. “With me by your side, absolutely. I imagine we could knock the task out in under a day instead of several. So, ready to head out now?”
“Uh,” Finnegan said uncomfortably, looking around. “I have a few preparations to make. Contracts and such. Give me a few days.” He turned and headed back to his hotel the moment he finished speaking.