[NPC Log Start!]
[Log Holder: Lucky Paine]
[Level: 1, Sub-Level: 02]
Lucky had grown up when trains were first being created.
They had watched from the sidelines as the hulking machines running on steam were advanced and experimented with. Perfected, even. All while the skies had seen the first stirrings of smoke had marred the skies.
When she had been a child, she lived in the countryside. There was plenty of flat land for her wheelchair to go, but she enjoyed rolling herself down grassy hills as well, frolicking around even as her father worked at the rudimentary train station. He wasn’t a mechanic or an engineer or any other fancy person. He was just a porter. And she loved hanging out at his work, watching the metal dragons puff out smoke, like living creatures. Back then, the smoke was almost wondrous to look at. And if it clawed at her lungs too much and felt like a piece of cloth intent on smothering the life out of her, she could simply take a step back and everything would be okay.
Once, an inventor had been commissioned by the local town proper to work on a memorial clock. He had been even more intriguing than the trains. Or, well, his creatures were. He had this way about making delicate clockwork mechanisms and winding them up with such precision that when he extracted the key from them, and let the machines do their thing, their metal plates would seem to shift and breathe and dance.
Back then, they had seen this as the closest thing to a miracle that she would have the honor to witness.
And now, this boy was telling them that he could perform miracles.
For some reason, Lucky found that harder to reconcile than the idea that a minimum of three other dimensions existed and all dimensions were doomed to a horrible end. Possibly for the sole purpose of giving these Players a thrilling backdrop for their Game.
You could claim all you wanted that that was not the case, but Lucky knew better. She could tell just by the way that little arse Jared had treated her sympathy and help. The Players really thought that the worlds as a whole were nothing but tragic places to go and stomp all over in their efforts to use them as steppingstones, until they got their little medals.
Lucky would not let that happen to her home. She was going to make sure that they made it out of this in one piece. Or she would die trying.
“So?” She prodded the boy, “Do some of this ‘sorcery’, then.”
He did not react, and really, she should have expected it from him. Instead, his face lit up red and he thrust his hand out. Not like he was interacting with these invisible panels, but instead like he was expecting lightning bolts to come out.
“It’s not activating.” He finally admitted, slumping down. As if he was genuinely surprised.
The whole display was so pathetic, Lucky found themselves whispering, “You’ll get it eventually.”
“You think so?” Michael asked, sounding so hopeful and sweet, her heart melted a little at the sight. Jared was like that too, so… it wasn’t trustworthy.
“I do.” She agreed, just to placate him. And maybe because she truly did believe in him, just a little bit.
“But your latent sorcery or no, I need your help in weapons assembly, stat.” They continued, forcefully nudging Michael towards the unassembled bits and pieces which had already been made by the molds. All around them, her wonderful machines purred and flexed, working at twice the speed they ever could, and still not enough to fill the high demands of her employers.
An armory was a basic weapons set every Explorer unit was outfitted with. It had three rifles, four handguns, fifty grenades, two machine guns, a rocket launcher, and enough ammo for each of them to fill a tactical backpack. This turned out to be considerably smaller than what Michael considered to be an armory, but it was no small amount of work. A lot of sweat and tears went into it. Blood, too, when Michael tore his hand open trying to reach for a bullet casing which had slipped too far into a cutting machine.
“You got any way to track the time?” He asked, as he clicked the final bits of the first rocket launcher’s trigger system into place, “How long do we have left?”
“Well, half the place is running on clockwork, so I would say time is the only thing we can reliably track.” Lucky joked, reaching up to pull a clock down from the rafters. Sure enough, it was ticking away ferociously. Ten hours left.
They both exchanged tired looks and were in complete agreement without even a word. That wasn’t enough time.
“Better pick up the pace, then.” Lucky muttered, turning back to the bullet casings. The callouses she’d built up over the years had begun faltering, the pads of her fingers turning red and inflamed. If they kept going, it was definitely going to start bleeding.
They kept going.
Lucky hadn’t worked with people in a long time. Even when she had had co-workers, it had always felt like there was a clash of antagonism in the air. They were always in competition over one another. Fighting over bonuses and pay raises and perks that would no doubt mean that someone else would miss out. It was an unfair and ridiculous cycle, but she had no way of combatting it. All they could do was sit tight and squabble amongst themselves for the scraps. And, after a while, there weren’t any coworkers to be jealous of. Lucky had made them all obsolete.
It wasn’t like that with Michael. There was real camaraderie there. He was a quiet and attentive worker, but not in a way that made him surly and stand-offish. He genuinely replied to any question she tossed out and considered all the stupid hypotheticals she came up with.
“If you could choose to have any old-fashioned dessert: ice cream or jelly?” She asked, desperate for some distraction as her nimble tweezers packed bullet casings with gunpowder. Michael paused from beside her. He wasn’t very good at multitasking, but that was fine. He was fast enough to make up the difference.
“You guys don’t have jelly here?” He asked, sounding surprised, “I mean, I get ice cream, there’s no freezer to keep it chilled, but jelly?”
“Horses were hunted to extinction years ago.”
“Are you sure you don’t live in an unnatural apocalypse?” Michael asked. He seemed oddly intent on the idea that her world had ended. She didn’t believe that. It was called an apocalypse. An Armageddon. The end of the world, brought on by a cataclysmic even so decisive it could only have been by God’s hand.
It was nothing like what Lucky had gone through.
“But, if we’re being serious about this, I’d go with the ice cream.” He continued, “It’s… really hot. Where I’m from.”
“We are hit by snowstorms every winter.” Lucky divulged, “It is not a happy existence.”
“Sorry.” Michael clicked his tongue, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean-”
“Let’s get a move on.” Lucky moved on stiffly. He took the hint and bent low over his work again.
A few minutes and twelve machine gun bullets in, they felt the urge to turn around and ask him about his thoughts on cricket. But his eyes were scrunched up, fully immersed in his tasks, so she didn’t disturb him. It was always awful when you were knocked out of your groove at exactly the wrong time.
She bent her head down and began working harder.
Tick, tick, tick. The clock continued spinning. Faster, and faster with every glance she spared to look at it.
Two hours, three hours, five. Time was slipping through her fingers like loose grains of sand. The stress of it made her want to turn around and begin moving. But instead of the smooth slide of wheels, she would feel the rickety tilting of her spider-chair. Badass, for sure, but not exactly comfortable.
There was nothing to do except push herself deeper into her rabbit hole, even as she struggled to focus. Mechanically worked through one bullet, then other, and another. On and on and on. Don’t think about the bigger picture. The bills, the security, the patch of life she had secured for herself. That would only serve to drive her to frustration.
Finally, the clock began to chime. Ten hours. The deadline was about to snap shut. Taking her livelihood with it.
“Shit.” Lucky whispered, sitting back in her chair. Pink slips floated underneath her eyelids, and her chest felt so tight all of a sudden, she had to reach for her sparse supplies of clean oxygen and indulge herself.
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“It’ll be okay.” Michael consoled her, placing a hand over her chair’s arm rest, “We… I think we made enough.”
“You do not know that.” Lucky replied, sweeping her more versatile metal appendages through the piles and piles of differently shaped bullets to count them as quickly as she could. Trying to keep track of the numbers was difficult, but she managed to split her attention enough to look at Michael.
“Please, go and hide.” She begged, “Once the madam comes, we will be in heaps more trouble.” They refused to be fired because she brought in a stranger from another dimension to help on the project.
Thankfully, Michael didn’t argue with their decision, immediately moving to climb up and over one of the more stable bits of machinery. He was a good climber, with lots of experience working without nets or ropes or helmets. She could commend him for his bravery at least.
Against all odds, the count came out nearly right. There were enough guns, grenades, and ammo assembled by them to make up for the shortfall. Give or take a few rounds, but she was sure no one needed to know that. She sighed, putting them aside to wipe the sweat off her face. It wasn’t just how hard the work was. It was also in how stressful it was. Long hours spent in the dank, gloomy factory, with no one to talk to and the roar of machines nearly deafening her. Sometimes, it felt like the higher ups were the only people they ever talked to anymore, which was strange. She had had a thriving social life, once. Way back in the day.
The door opened, and the sharp glare of xenon lamps easily penetrated the factory floor, which had previously been illuminated with dull tallow lamps. The sharp step of the newcomer was indeed the Madam.
Genevieve Richardson was her actual name. The Madam was just what all her employees called her. She had been one of the first people to start recruiting for their own private army. Ahead of the curve, she was, as the trend picked up quickly after she started it off, and soon every major company had been outfitted with paramilitary security corps.
Michael’s imaginary voice teased in the corner of her mind. Are you sure the world hasn’t gone to shit? Okay, this particular instance was indefensible. Maybe he had a point in all his catastrophizing.
“Hello, again!” She fluttered her hand towards Lucky, “Have you made any progress, Lucy?”
“The name’s Lucky.” They reminded her, trying not to come off too confrontational, “And yes. I have managed to clear up our… slight organizational hiccup. Nothing to worry about, anymore. The machines have been adjusted, though I’m uncertain if we still have enough fuel to keep them running after this-”
“Look, Lucy.” Genevieve cut her off with a stern smile, “The fuel concerns will have no bearing in a month. What matters now is that you fix up the problems plaguing us now. Have you done that?”
“Naturally.” She agreed, resigning herself, “I never fail a project.”
“And that’s why you’re my favorite contractor.” She nodded. Lucky was always confused when she made allusions like that. There were other contractors? She’d been working under the assumption that the guards were all salary workers, because they sure acted like them. Were these supposed contractors engineers too, or in some other part of this… survival scheme? How come she’d never seen them?
She never had the courage to bring up the issue to Genevieve, but the questions were certainly there.
The Gunnersons Project had been a gamechanger in a world already plagued by a growing pollution problem and increased political stress. Company towns and cities and living communities were not uncommon. In fact, the government had gone through a whole phase of encouraging their growth and development, so as to cut down on the cost of maintaining railroads and gas mains and sewage systems.
But a fully maintained privately owned operation which provided a source of free, clean oxygen to its staff and willing to defend its living space through force if terrorists were ever to attack? It was an impossible idea. But it brought incredible results.
“If I’ve fulfilled my side of our arrangement, does that mean we’re cleared to move onto level two for this month?” She asked, wincing a little at the terminology. She’d never think of Levels in the same way again after Michael’s story.
But this wasn’t playing into some occult Game. Level Two of her plan was the next step in her goal to perhaps divert some of the problems that plagued their world. Or, well, one problem.
The fuel problem.
In this world that runs on trains and machines, fuel was in high demand. And there were only two major types of fuel. Coal, and oil. Gas, too, but that was more dangerous to mine, store, and transport. This was all well and good, until you realized that all of these were in short supply. There simply wasn’t enough in the Earth to keep them going.
Compound that with the fact that getting energy from them required burning the stuff, and that was exactly how the smoke epidemic started, then these were not long-lasting solutions.
Other people had tried to come up with solutions, back before the sun had been nearly blotted out and breathing wasn’t something you had to pay for, but none of the solutions were particularly elegant. Manpower was wasteful and led to widespread abuse, water wheels had starved out a town which had been reliant on salmon for their diet. There had even been discussions on using strange glowing rocks to harness pure energy, but testing had never gotten far.
Now, if there was further research being done on the topic, there was no way to know. Public services like mail and newspapers had shut down three months ago. Not with a bang, but with a whisper. Once people began allying themselves and ganging up on others, the desire to hear news and keep in touch with people far away became less desirable. So, after hundreds of subscriptions were cancelled in the span of months, they just stopped delivering.
Lucky Paine was all on their own in the pursuit to create a cleaner form of power. And they had the perfect idea on where to start.
Sunlight.
Of course, there wasn’t any sunlight, because of the duvet of smoke blotting it out, but if she were to travel to a place where the smoke wasn’t nearly as thick, maybe she had a chance. And if there were no places like that, Lucky would make one.
Regardless of whether there was sunlight or not, she had figured out a reasonable way to extract the sun’s energy that she planned to test out the second she managed it. But first, she was going to have to construct it. And that would take time and resources.
Time and Resources that had been promised to her by Genevieve if she managed to do the work that would regularly have taken a cricket stadium full of people.
“Yes, yes, go ahead.” Genevieve agreed, “But we may need you for an express run later tomorrow, so make sure you keep the tinkering light, will you? We’re trying to recover your position after you let that… little rat go free. The board of directors is feeling a little uncertain about letting you deal with prisoners after that particular mishap.”
Their ears burnt at the insinuation.
“I would never have let that happen under normal circumstances.” She insisted, “That was just an infuriatingly special boy.”
She had vouched for Jared. Extended a hand to him that she had wanted back when she was attempting to get back into the commercial world. And all that had led to was humiliation. Even if she had made amends with his friend, she could not bring herself to forgive Jared himself. He did not deserve it.
Genevieve gave her that simpering, pitying look that made Lucky’s teeth itch.
“Of course.” She told them, “I believe you. But the board doesn’t.” She had more than enough money to fund this entire operation herself. Why was there even a board? To shift the blame off herself in situations such as these, Lucky figured.
“Well then, I will make sure to keep my record cleaner than it has ever been before.” She promised, as though she didn’t have the best reputation in the engineering world, despite her spartan education.
Genevieve smiled contently and walked off, quickly closing the door, taking the glow of the xenon lamps with her. Just as well, they burnt a metric ton of energy every second they were lit.
Michael extracted himself out from the machinery he had hidden behind. She winced as he dodged a giant axel that nearly knocked him into a set of sharp gears. She’d never taken note of how hideously sharp everything was in here.
“What were you talking about?” He asked, the moment he’d landed in front of them, “What’s Level Two?”
“My end of the deal. Where I help make up for the lack of manpower, and they let me experiment on extracting energy from the sun.” She explained, feeling excitement rise inside her at the very thought. Her dream was so close, she could just about feel it!
“How’re you planning on doing that?” Michael asked, “Solar panels? I know those.”
“Solar panels…” Lucky tested out the words, “Hm, not exactly what I imagined mine to look like. I’m working with vials of chlorophyll to create electrical energy.”
Michael’s face twisted in a way that made it obvious that he didn’t have much faith in this plan.
“You have a problem with it?” They challenged, “Say it to my face, because I have worked through all the science and it should work.”
“I’m not saying that it can’t work. Just that my world didn’t figure it out before it collapsed, and yours is much less advanced, so the odds aren’t in your favor.” Michael explained, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I’ll be much help here.”
“That’s okay.” She assured him, “I am not going to need any help. Got it covered from here.”
“You swear?” Michael blinked.
“Yes! The spillover problem is fixed, all the extra info I needed is on the table, and now I have time to focus and prepare my inventions.”
“That’s… good to hear?” Michael told her, still knocked off balance.
“What about you? There is a task we need to fulfill to get you home, right?” Lucky asked eagerly, “You have been a brilliant help for me, so I am obligated to return the gesture. What do we need to do?”
He wrung his hands together, looking strangely guilty, “Well… uh… I already finished it.” He explained, “A while back. Could have left then but didn’t.”
Lucky froze. He didn’t seem to see the enormity of the situation. No one had ever done that before. If they had been given the chance to escape this world, they would’ve snapped it up immediately, damn whoever was left behind.
Even Jared had followed that pattern. Yet here Michael was, going against the grain without even a thought.
“I appreciate it.” They managed out through a dry mouth, “If any others come by for their own Sub-Levels, I’ll keep an eye out for them. Help them along if I can.”
He smiled back, “Thanks, Lucky. That’s pretty cool of you. I’ll… tell them to keep an eye out for you too. But there’s something you need to know.”
They immediately straightened up, “What?”
“There’s a Player somewhere here.” He told her, “Using Compulsion on you.”
“Compulsion?” She demanded, immediately not liking the concept.
“An Ability, much like Sorcery.” He explained, “…I’m sure you can guess what it does.”
Yeah, she had an idea.
“And there’s a Player here doing that?” She pressed.
He nodded, “I wanted to find out who it was, but you’re clearly dealing with your own shit. So, I’m just letting you know to keep your eyes out. So that he can’t mess with your photosynthesis plan.”
“Thank you for alerting me.” They returned, “And I hope you figure out the sorcery mess, too.”
Michael laughed, reaching out to press on some invisible panel. And then, he was dissolving into a shower of green pixels. A sight they remembered in sharp clarity from a week ago, when Jared Caliber had vanished in front of her eyes, throwing everything they knew into question.
Except this time, it wasn’t an enigma. It was simply a friend, dropping out of her life.
Not a figment to stress over, but a loss to be mourned.
There was nothing to be done of it, in the end. All she had to do was roll up her sleeves and fix this crisis herself. She may be a believer in miracles, but by the looks of it, there were no miracles coming to her world. Only the people could fix it.
[NPC Log End!]