Chapter 110
The Conversation
As the motley assortment of men women and children headed for the shelter Mr. Osmond prayed was there. Mr. Osmond remembered his conversation with Leo, on the day of the Change, as they'd sat next to each other in the back of a truck after killing their first High-Level Boss.
I don't know all the details, but I know how the programmers intended us to win School's Out. Leo had messaged. The “Don't Swim in the Water Reservoirs” sign that kept popping up in the game was the giveaway. The six player characters go to the water reservoirs and go swimming, merging with their alien symbionts, sacrificing themselves to save what's left of the human race.
You think so? Mr. Osmond messaged back.
Yes. You see, the alien/human symbionts break apart into alien protozoa 2.0, taking over the reservoirs and eventually the earth's water supply. When these new protozoa infect a human, whether previously infected or not, they form a symbiotic rather than a parasitic relationship with their host. So you now have millions of alien/human symbionts. And that's how these godlike bosses are defeated.
Mr. Osmond messaged back. So you're suggesting we sacrifice ourselves somehow and break ourselves into millions of implants? How's that supposed to work?
Leo answered. The sacrifice isn't literal. At least not for you. Every implant wearer needs to sacrifice some of their implant's power to continue producing more implants. Ideally, every fucking human on this planet needs an implant.
How do you propose to make all, or most, of the world's implant wearers continually replicate their implants? Mr. Osmond asked. And what do you propose to do when the Bosses hunt down your implant wearers and grind them out of existence before they gain the numbers and skill levels to fight back?
The Guardian has two functions, Leo responded. The first is to give people hope. To convince them they have a chance of winning and that they need to replicate their implants. The second is to convince the High-Level Bosses they've won the war, so they'll return to fighting among themselves. And to do that, the Guardian needs to die.
Leo. We just talked about your suicide issues. Mr. Osmond messaged back. And how do you plan to convince all or most implant wearers to sacrifice implant capacity to create more implants?
I was hoping you and The Professor would help me get the Guardian's message out. Do you, or The Professor, have the ability to communicate with all implant wearers?
That is a high-level communication skill, Leo. Implants were made with personal freedom and privacy in mind. To outright message everyone, regardless of their preferences, is a big deal. As is the ability to eavesdrop on other implant wearers' communications. I would need to raise my Network Administrator skill to an extremely high level.
So what would it take for you or The Professor to do this? Leo asked.
About 30,000 Demon Tears. Mr. Osmond had responded.
***
“Man. This place is a dump,” Brick said when they finally entered the shelter, three days after they'd entered the subway tunnel. If it weren't for implant wearers with speed and strength skills, not to mention their earth mage, who'd leveled up several times in rock removal, it would have taken them a lot longer to get there. Parts of the subway tunnel had to be cleared before they could proceed.
There were numerous sounds of agreement.
“It's got good bones,” Mr. Osmond said, looking around the large, dusty shelter uninhabited for decades. “I learned about this place from a black site that kept track of old bomb shelters. Someone built a parking lot over the shelter's original entrance, so the entrance we created in the subway tunnel is our only way in and out. There should be a ventilation system and access to groundwater, though we may have to do some work to use them.”
“Welcome to our new home,” Gretchen said, as tired as the rest of them. “Charlotte, get the other assassin and make sure we have all the stragglers and that we've removed any evidence we came this way.”
With a groan, the two implant wearers got up and left for the tunnel.
“Some shelter supplies should still be good,” Mr. Osmond said. “This place was built with longevity in mind. We'll have to use human power to power the generator, to begin with at least, but we have super-powered humans, so that should work. Trent, you and Howie check for supplies. I'm going to find a quiet place where I can get some work done.”
Mr. Osmond found a small dusty room with faded posters of Cold War propaganda and some long-forgotten president on its walls. There were stone benches and a stone table with an ashtray on it. He'd found the shelter smoking room.
Completely exhausted, he collapsed on a bench. He went into his implant messaging and got to work.
***
'Alpha Gremlin': Greetings. You can ignore this message if you want, but you can't prevent me from sending it to you. I have a high-level networking communication administrator skill. To quote a TV series from the previous century called Outer Limits: “I control the horizontal. I control the vertical.” Ha. I've always wanted to say that. I'm sending this message to everyone with an implant.
I strongly advise you to pay attention to this message since I'm trying to save your lives. Those High-Level Bosses floating around are not your friends. They're trying to lure out the implant wearers and anyone else that might pose a threat to them. If you're hidden, stay hidden. If they don't know you're an implant wearer. Do. Not. Tell. Them.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Mr. Osmond waited for the response. Alpha Gremlin felt fitting as his new implant name. He intended to sneak around the implant communication network and sabotage the Boss monsters' plans.
Blowfish 23: Piss off. Wanker.
Green Master: Perv.
Tuf Girl Kelly: Perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv. Go away. Perv tentacalist.
'Alpha Gremlin': Tuf Girl Kelly, what is a tentacalist?
Tuf Girl Kelly: Perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv. My friend says a tentacalist is someone who hates beings with tentacles. Pastor Brown rescued a kitten from a tree with his tentacles and he's helping everyone out. But tentacalist Leo Edwards supporters like you are trying to kill him because he floats around and has tentacles and you resent his success and good fortune in life.
'Alpha Gremlin': I resent him eating everyone. You seem exceptionally childish, even by implant wearer standards. How old are you, Kelly?
Tuf Girl Kelly: Perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv, perv. I'm six and a half.
Mr. Osmond groaned. Then he contacted the girl's imp. One of his high-level system administrator skills. The same skill he used to ensure Leo's imp kept quiet about his continued use of Leo's senses, despite Mr. Osmond having supposedly died in the explosion.
'Alpha Gremlin': You must be aware your owner's behavior is counter to our given quest of eliminating the human-eating monsters, and it's likely to get the two of you killed.
You are correct, Kelly's imp responded. However, I'm not allowed to interfere with her personal choices.
'Alpha Gremlin': True. But you can shut down certain implant functions for her safety until she behaves in a more rational quest quest-friendly manner.
Again, you are correct, Kelly's Imp said. I will shut down everything but communication and implant replication ability. Sadly, I don't think she'll notice.
Mr. Osmond buried his head in his hands. The world was doomed. Then he proceeded to go through the other responses.
The MF Paladin: Are you some kind of perv? Better stay out of my town. We've got too many of those already. But assuming you are correct, Mr. Gremlin. How do we get rid of the bastards?
'Alpha Gremlin': Well, Mr. Paladin, let me tell you about the Guardian's plan to save the world...
***
The shelter residents huddled around one of the old TV sets that someone had fixed. Over the past few weeks, they'd done a lot to get the old shelter cleaned up and functioning again.
The shelter residents had used their skills, implant related and not, to access clean water, clear out the ventilation shafts, and fix the generators, appliances, and waste disposal system. They'd even set up the shelter's hydroponics plant so residents would have fresh vegetables to go with the barely edible food from the shelter's storage.
Like many of the world's inhabitants, the shelter residents watched Leo's trial. To say things weren't going well for Leo would be a bit of an understatement. Leo had to be the most hated person in the world.
The human audience of the huge amphitheater courtroom chanted. “Death to Leo! Death to Leo!” Leo sat there hopeless, as witness after witness, testified against him.
One of the implant wearers flew over and threw something that splatted down next to Leo. He didn't respond. The large Boss monster floating next to Leo waved off the flying implant wearer with a tentacle.
Lydia ran crying from the room.
“What is wrong with these people?” Trent asked.
“They want to believe the Ascended Ones are there to help them,” said the bearded man, David Longstrom. “When you're homeless out on the streets, you learn to read people. Those Ascended Ones are like pimps luring runaways into drugs and prostitution. They're being so nice, predators stalking their prey. If I was a human in that audience, I'd run away as fast and far as I could.”
***
Lydia stormed into Mr. Osmond's office. “There's got to be something you can do! They're going to kill him!”
“I know,” Mr. Osmond replied, looking exhausted. “I'm as upset as you are, Lydia, but there's nothing we can do.”
“Well. A frontal attack would be suicide,” Charlotte said, coming into the office on the tail end of the conversation. “But what if a small group of us were to sneak into that place and bust him out? I've gotten pretty good with my concealment skill.”
Mr. Osmond stood up, walked around his desk, and sat on it. “Absolutely not, Charlotte. Even if you could sneak inside, sneaking out again with Leo would be suicide. The Ascended Ones would quickly find you, and those implant wearers would help them search.”
“But they're going to kill him!” Lydia shouted.
Charlotte looked away.
“I know, Lydia,” Mr. Osmond said. “And I'm sorry.”
“Something I've wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Osmond,” Charlotte said after Lydia had left, probably to find Sparkles and cry. “You killed four people.”
“You mean the ones I left on the bus before we came here?” Mr. Osmond replied.
“Yes. You knew the place was going to blow up, and you must have known those four people would die when that happened.”
“They were traitors,” Mr. Osmond said. “They'd be killed soon regardless when our Boss friends drop their nice monster routine.”
“We could have left them behind, or on some street someplace,” Charlotte said.
“Then people would wonder why we left them,” Mr. Osmond said. “It would be one more loose end that would increase the likelihood of them finding us here. We're at war, Charlotte, and if the monsters find us, we're dead.”
“Did it bother you, killing those four people?” she asked.
Mr. Osmond thought it over. “Yes, their deaths bother me a great deal,” he lied. “But we have to do difficult things if we're going to survive.”