At that moment I was filled with inchoate rage. I knew then without a doubt that this System was responsible for my memory loss, and had deliberately deceived me about it. ‘Dissociative amnesia can be an uncommon but serious reaction when entering The Collective.’ But why? For what purpose? And now this ColSec buzzard was offering (or was that threatening?) to reset my memory again. All the Crypt in the metaverse wasn’t worth losing myself a second time.

But what if this wasn’t the second time…? Oh frag. I didn’t want to think about that possibility.

No. No! I don’t want that! I am not a terrorist! I am not a member of this group you are talking about!

The impenetrable white helmet regarded me blankly.

Elevated pulse. Chromatic face shift attributable to blood vessel dilation. Clenched hands. An authentic emotional response. Interesting.

I wanted to strike this thing in front of me. To pummel it with my fists. But that would be useless. I was powerless, impotent, trapped in this bleached out interrogation room.

The officer momentarily froze, then raised an arm to the side of its helmet, pausing there as if receiving some transmission. It lowered its arm again and cocked its head to one side, quietly observing me before speaking again.

There has been an explosion in The Commons. In the area colloquially known as Mendicant Row. Significant environmental destruction and many Volunteers taken offline, resulting in a bottleneck at the Restoration Point.

What?

My eyes went wide. An explosion in The Commons?

An authentic reaction of surprise, suggesting that you had no involvement.

No! Of course not!

The officer hesitated, continuing its piercing study of me. I wondered what could have caused such an explosion. Some kind of accident? Was The Commons under attack?

Due to the imminent need to reallocate security resources this interview will be cut short.

I gaped in disbelief.

Short? You kept me waiting in this box forever!

Just because the interview is being aborted does not mean our concerns about you are alleviated. A parting word of caution: do not be distracted. Focus on fulfilling the requirements of your contract. The Collective needs you to carry out the work you volunteered for.

Right.

If you for any reason come into possession of any information regarding the terrorist organization known as Antisoc, present yourself at Collective Security headquarters located in Metro Central. We will be monitoring you, Volunteer.

The white walls of the box grew brighter and brighter until they were blinding. And then, they were gone. The box, the ColSec officer, all of it.

I stood shakily in an unknown space, feeling a queasy tightness in my abdomen. It took a minute for my eyes to readjust to my surroundings. It looked like I had been dumped in a sort of narrow underground mall but all the shops were closed, their metal security gates rolled and padlocked. A handful of red neon signs flickered indecisively and abandoned sandwich board displays written in an unknown script advertised miscellaneous wares.

I saw my snubnosed revolver and push dagger lying unceremoniously on the ground in front of me. I stooped to pick them up and quickly added them back to my Equipment menu, breathing a small sigh of relief. They returned my weapons. I could at least be thankful for that. Hard to do my job as a Volunteer without them.

I turned around, trying to get my bearings. Behind me were security barricades, yellow caution tape, and the subtle gleam of an electronic barrier. A sign read: Code 404-37. Excuse our mess! This area is under construction.

Only one way out, I guess. Down the other direction.

I avoided brackish puddles in the cracked asphalt, ducking to avoid low hanging cables and air vents as I made my way to the far end of the walkway. I saw concrete steps ahead, leading up.

The anger I felt remained, burning within my breast. Part of me was glad to stick it to the system. Then again, was it a lost cause? If I wanted to get out, to return to whatever my life was on the outside (if such a place existed), didn’t I have to play along? Didn’t I have to fulfill my mysterious contract? And what the ColSec officer said about the survival of the human race… was that more lies? Propaganda?

I thought about Antisoc. They had warned me not to get caught with the shielded thermal goggles. Now the accessory was confiscated, and there was a possibility that, if the code was cracked, Antisoc might be at risk. Of course, they had also asked me to return the goggles to them. A lose / lose situation. And after spending who knows how much time in that interrogation chamber, would Antisoc trust that I had not betrayed them? They could easily choose to flatline me to reduce their exposure.

All these thoughts swirled in my mind as I began climbing the steps, only to pause as I heard a faint sound. It was the sound of somebody crying.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Hello?

A figure was hunched over, sitting on the steps, burying its face in gloved hands. At the sound of my voice, it raised its head. It was a man. He was wearing a brown leather trench coat over black corduroys and a button down shirt. Appearing embarrassed, he wiped tears from his cheeks and put on a pair of spectacles.

“You startled me! I didn’t know there was anyone else down here. I’m so sorry.”

No, don’t be. Are you… okay?

“Not really. I just got released from questioning by ColSec. Oh, it was awful.”

You too? There was some kind of incident at the Repository.

“Exactly. They took every Volunteer who was there in for grilling. And I had nothing to tell them!”

He put a gloved hand to his side and winced, as if his ribs hurt. I carefully looked him over. I did not recognize him as having been in the Repository. But what did that mean? Everything happened so fast, and it was a large building.

Did they hurt you?

He waved away my concerns.

“Don’t… don’t worry about it. I’ll be alright. I just need to pull myself together.”

The man had gentle features and a kind disposition. His dirty blonde hair was medium length and parted in the middle. His face was smooth, save for a cleft in his chin, and he had beautiful blue eyes which appeared larger through the lenses of his wireframe glasses. I assumed no metaverse avatar would be created with vision problems, so the glasses must have been an aesthetic choice.

Yeah. That was my first run-in with ColSec, and I hope it will be my last. What were you doing at the Repository?

“That’s a very personal question.”

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. As I’ve been told many times, I’m a noob. Just curious is all. I haven’t opened an account there yet.

“That’s alright. Nothing too secret, if you must know. Just checking on some investments. I don’t generally like to put that out on the street, but you seem kind.”

Investments? Are Volunteers allowed to have investments?

“Bonds mostly. It is pretty niche. I’m sorry, where are my manners? The name is Jack, although most people call me Fancy Jack.”

He stood up, removed a glove and held out a well-manicured hand. I shook it politely. His skin was soft. I stifled a laugh.

Fancy Jack? What sort of name is that?

“I know, I know. Tease me if you like. The short version of the story is: I came out of orientation at the same time as two other Volunteers. So we teamed up. King, Queen, and Jack. Get it? A regular bounty hunting threesome. But all that blood and guts. Killing and being killed. It just wasn’t for me. My partners eventually became lovers and I was the odd man out, so I turned my attention to less-violent interests.”

You were only missing an Ace. Then you could have been a bounty hunting foursome.

He grinned, put his glove back on, and gestured up the steps.

“Care to walk as we talk? I’d like to get back to my apartment.”

I was obliged to follow him and soon we ascended to ground level. Looking around, I saw that indeed I was back in The Commons. I spotted the spire of the Restoration Point far in the distance. I wondered where we were in relation to the explosion on Mendicant Row.

What did you mean by less-violent interests?

“When we were out there fighting monsters, the three of us, I became more intrigued with some of the plant specimens we came across. My partners could not have cared less. But me? You can say I became a little obsessed. Enamored might be a better word. Orbexilum stipulatum and St. Helena Olive. The Toromiro tree. These plants should be extinct–are extinct. Yet extinct plants somehow live on in this place. It’s like a miracle. This place is a miracle.”

Wow. That is certainly a unique perspective. So you’re really into plants?

“Hence the backhanded nickname. But I’ve come to embrace it. Botany. Horticulture. These are my passions now.”

But you are a Volunteer. What about your contract? What about taking bounties?

I privately recalled how the ColSec officer criticized my low bounty output just a few minutes ago.

Fancy Jack sighed wistfully, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the shining buildings and dark streets. He stopped walking and turned to face me.

“That’s just it. I aspire to become a Citizen.”

A Citizen?

“If I save up enough Crypt, I hope to buy my way in.”

I arched an eyebrow incredulously.

They’ll let you do that?

“I honestly don’t know. But a man can dream, can’t he? Let me dream. One step at a time.”

There was something else under the surface. Something he wasn’t saying, but I couldn’t figure out what. The aspiring pacifist reached into an interior pocket of his coat and pulled out a small paper card. He handed it to me. It felt soft and natural to the touch. It read: ‘Fancy Jack, Herbalist’, and had an address listed.

“That card is crafted from fibers of plants I raised myself. You should come by my apartment sometime. It doubles as my urban garden and shop of sorts. I make a mean cup of tea.”

I slipped the business card into my inventory.

Thank you. I have a lot going on just now, but I’ll consider it. I don’t know how much time I lost in that interrogation chamber.

Fancy Jack raised a gloved finger in the air as if remembering something. He materialized an unusual book from his inventory and flipped it open. I wasn’t standing right next to him, but it looked as if ink was swirling into place on the pages, forming words and astronomical diagrams.

He noticed my curiosity and offered a brief word of explanation.

“This is my almanac. Or something akin to a rokuyo. I found it on a job once upon a time and have kept it with me ever since. By my calculations… oh my, it seems that nearly two cycles have passed.”

Two cycles?!

I suddenly remembered the Round Table raid. I might completely miss it. I may already have.

Excuse me, Jack. I have to go. I have to go right now!

“Me too. I have to get home and water my plants. Come visit sometime!”

I sprinted in the direction of the Rathskeller.