SAVE POINT 101

Loading Throne Room Code Level & Some Fun...100%

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Dormouse

So...I gotta be real; this is freaking me out. And, sure, I'm the kind of guy who jumps at Jaws reruns, but, if I'm being honest, at least that's a plastic shark. This is not plastic. This is real life. Real. Tangible. Life. For each and every one of us. Grand Dragon, I can't believe Rosabella's roped me into this! I let my eyes wander over the rows of neon code bouncing in the air in the darkened throne room. Could someone at least flip on a light to make me feel better about this whole thing? —Like we're not doing it in hushed secret or something? The ornate ceiling hangs over me like the looming feeling of unease I can't seem to shake off no matter how hard I try.

"How long will it take to go into effect?" Rosabella wants to know.

Creator magic? Being given to the masses with one click of my pinky finger? Oooh, this doesn't feel right. Am I old-school, or am I just certainly and definitively against ideas with terrible consequences?

"Dormouse—"

I snap back to attention to find the brunette girl staring into my face. Right. Concentrate. Answering questions. ...What did she ask? I can barely breathe—

"Immediate," I swallow but find no saliva to wet my sponge-dry tongue. I clear my throat, pretending this is natural—that all of this is, somehow, okay...when it feels like I'm going to go down in history for the wrong reason. ...As the guy who pushed the wrong button and caused immediate chaos in the entire Game, "It applies immediately."

Once I click that button.

I stare at it—the pulsing blue-and-white button at the bottom of the screen that reads 'Apply Change'—but, so far, I've been buying time. I only have that one last, final move to install the changes but—

But my quaking fingers can't do it yet. I can't. I'm—fuck it all, I'm scared. I haven't been this scared of anything since I tried to ask Maude out but—

...Well, actually, it was kinda terrifying for a second there talking to Mimi too—

"Dormouse!"

Sparo and Rosabella stare at me this time as I jolt forward, out of my thoughts. Both of them? Shoot...

I try an awkward smile, but the aggravation doesn't leave their faces just like the twisting upset won't leave my stomach. "What?" I whimper, "Don't you guys need some sort of decree to make this change? Some sort of—announcement?" The last word is, admittedly, a squeak.

Sparo sighs—the sound clearly vibrating through his whole body and rippling through his tired expression—"We already went over this, that's why you need to send the system-wide alert message first. The board already approved all of it. It's okay," the man says.

But, the way he says it, I kind of wonder if it's for my benefit or his.

I swallow.

Should I—? My finger hovers over the 'Apply Change' button. There's certain times in your life when you wish you were braver, you know? Like when you're squatting in the bathroom with a queasy stomach before a job interview or hiding in a bush during a Darken attack and... well, this is one of those times. I send a sideways glance at Sparo. Grand Dragon, I wish I was like him sometimes—that easy swagger, that entitled temper, that...directness. If he's an arrow, I'm a strand of spaghetti—limp. Wet and sweating. Lacking a backbone.

I grind my teeth together, trying to combat the wave of self-hate. I mean, Mimi likes me, right? She's metaphorically into spaghetti, so why do I have such a hard time of it? Thinking of the freckled girl gives me a little extra strength—the extra push I need to—

To suck it up.

I gulp for air.

I swallow.

I fight the cascading dizziness and blink into the neon code, piercing my pupils in this darkness and I—

I hit the button.

Beep.

[System updating...loading...]

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

My heart jumps into my throat, pounding—

My ears ring.

And I don't have Mimi's hand to hold during this, but I grab for Rosabella's because... I need something to calm me. And her skin is warm and her fingers, soft. And it fills what I need in that minute as she smiles nervously at me.

"It's going to be okay," she whispers. But I hate that all of have to say it a million times just to hope it's true.

Nerves dance under my skin as I watch the loading circle, rotating mid-air—

[New changes successfully saved.]

Beep.

A blue, message box pops into view:

ATTENTION:

The system code has been updated. By order of GAME MAKER ROSABELLA, ALL GAMERS and ALL BEASTS will receive creator magic and can create without the resulting black magic. This change was implemented to encourage fun and freedom, improve Gamer lives and dismantle opportunities for black magic and Darken number growth. Please create responsibly. Creator magic can sometimes be tied to your health. Always wait for your creator magic to refill before attempting large creations. Thank you for your attention.

***Creator Points, Awarded to ALL GAMERS and ALL BEASTS***

Oh my Grand Dragon; it worked. I mean—I know I'm good at what I do, but—

Shit, it worked.

My throat is dry.

My eyes are open wide.

—As I hear cheers and woops of laughter and joy rise behind the door to the hall. What—? It's—

It's The Higher Place staff cheering! Rosabella had been...right? People just want to create? Can this really stop darkness from spreading over The Game—stop the Darken from being created?

I turn towards the girl slowly, marveling at the grin spreading over her face. "Thank you," she says, the sentiment flowing into her eyes.

I nod.

But I can't speak. I don't know what I'd say—I still don't know how to feel about all of this. Part of me wants to join in the excited cries—the bubbling-up laughter and shouts. It wants to give into the thrill of the moment, let it course through me and begin to experiment with this new creator skill but...but part of me is—damn it!—scared again.

Because this is unknown.

It's feels like a science trial where the side effects aren't fleshed out yet. ...And we're the test subjects, blindly agreeing to the miracle drug without knowing all the information—

Who made me such a stick in the mud?! I try to shake the doubt and unease off, but damn that shit's sticky, you know?

BAMM!

The side, throne room door flies open as a dark ball of fur hurls through—massive, lean, toned—lunging—

I recognize the beast's black wings and spotted body; it's Fiasco, my Jagwindo. How the heck did he get in here? The creature darts around the room, pausing as though to think. Then, a wad of bacon appears on the floor in front of him and he swallows it up, leaping forward—

Then, he stops, again, pausing.

As a fully cooked turkey breast on a platter with sausage links appears a few feet away.

Which he slurps up—

To all of our amazement, Fiasco repeats this exercise, working his way gleefully around the room as our eyes follow him.

"Well..." Sparo drawls as he turns to me, beaming with cankerous congeniality, "what are you waiting for, kid? The animal figured it out. Aren't you gonna try it? Create something?"

Try it...

Try it out? Create something?

I feel a little sick—or like how a kid wants to feel sick so he can get out of attempting to ride his bike with training wheels even though his Dad's been bugging him...shit. I attempt a tenuous smile, pushing down the butterflies, "Oh—I—"

"Give it a try!" Rosabella prods, her voice gentle but excited and—jeez—I have such a weak spot when it comes to that girl's big, dark eyes. I hold up both hands, not liking any of this, "Okay, okay!"

I'll do it.

I'll do it to appease them, and that's it.

I close my eyes, thinking for a minute. What do I want to make... And, as though I can't help it, a grin spreads onto my face without my approval—I can feel it sitting there as energy spirals through my feet—

An alien-feeling purple bar pops into my view, lowering slightly. And...

And I look down at my feet to find—

Oh my gosh, they're just like I imagined!

My toes are encased in bright blue and red high-top sneakers—brand new without any marks or scuffs. The leather is stiff and smells amazing even from this far away. All my kid dreams of being a rockstar suddenly seem that much closer as a flutter of hope and joy dances in my heart. ...Actually, it feels illegal to have this much fun.

My head whips up to Sparo and Rosabella. The dark-skinned man eyes me disbelievingly. "You are such a nerd—" he emphasizes.

"Don't listen to him," Rosabella cuts the man off, folding her arms over her chest, "I've watched him make himself sunglasses for himself more times than I can count—"

"Touche," Sparo concedes.

And we're all left breathless and smiling at each other in that darkened room. And it feels...good. To have friends...to be able to create and relax for the minute. I just hope Rosabella will never have to find out about the safeguard I buried deep in the code because... Well, right now, it feels like maybe even I can forget about it and just...sink into the fun for once.