Allocation complete.
Ok, here we are. Zachary thought to himself, eyes fluttering as they slowly accustomed themselves to their new surroundings. First stop on the big Mask retrieval tour; gotta get some intel about potential locations. Might be a pain in the ass – I’ve never heard of physical manifestation of inanimate aspects of the self before, so the Mask could be anything. A glowing chunk of rock, motes of light, weird animal or a tree or something- wait, what the hell?
Much unlike his other rebirths, Zachary found himself awaking within the confines of some sort of transparent coffin. There was almost no leeway within, the dimensions of his prison being cramped and narrow. The most he could do was flex his arms outwards, his elbows stopped by the sides of the chamber.
And to make things worse, his body was, at the moment, submerged fully in water.
Or some sort of liquid, anyways.
He swished a fist uselessly at the clear cover of the chamber, the momentum of the swing blunted by whatever this fluid was. That was when he caught a glimpse of his body’s new complexion – a shade of harsh ash grey, as if the vessel had been lightly roasted in a charcoal oven. Zachary lifted a hand to his face, examining the bumpy, uneven flesh with interest. How unusual. Pickled in a jar and painted grey.
This definitely ranked up there as one of his more peculiar starts.
Ah, so it was that, then.
Soul mapping.
The System abhorred wastage, after all. It strove to use the least amount of resources to achieve the optimal result. With abnormal cases like retaining memories across different realities, the things that needed to occur for allocation to successfully take place would have to be factors like ensuring the safety of the host, an upload of culture and language to allow for smooth transitioning – and of course, to give the otherworlder a body.
Most of the time the safety clause was the stumbling block for the System’s requirements, so he was often dumped out in a relatively obscure locale, with a completely new body generated for him. The System would also try its best to maintain a similar appearance to his previous incarnation in a bid to reduce identity confusion and unfamiliarity of appendage locomotion – it was already creating a vessel from scratch, so it might as well put in some elbow grease for maximal comfort of its user.
But on the other hand; if there was a viable avatar devoid of consciousness, just sitting there, waiting for someone to claim it? Well, that would be half the work done already. Just patch it up and it’d be good to go.
It doesn’t exactly help my situation much knowing that, he griped. Still locked in this glass case. Like some sort of taxidermy display. At least I’m not drowning.
Actually, hold on- why am I not? It’s not like I’ve been coming up for air periodically. So this liquid must be breathable, then. Which is good. The next question is, why make the liquid breathable? This body didn’t have a mind piloting it up to this exact moment, or the System wouldn’t have selected it for allocation. And I don’t think you’ll need to treat empty husks with much care, either.
In other words, what this should be…
Zachary scanned along the edges of the glass, hands fervently scrabbling along the vacuum seal as he searched for something that would have to be present in his current predicament. If this was what he guessed it was. And with a little bit of thrashing about, he finally found it.
A small latch.
Is a clone pod!
He triumphantly flicked the latch.
Immediately, tiny slats at the bottom of the pod flipped aside, allowing the liquid within to drain downwards, and for Zachary’s feet to finally touch solid ground. As the fluid drained below his waist, he began to make out clearer details of the room outside. There was still a little glare from the lights embedded in the frame of the pod, but he could definitely make out that besides the one he was currently in, there were another ten or so identical chambers on the opposite end of the dark room.
The pod hissed open, its glass shell swinging upwards. Zachary stepped out, steadying himself on the edge of the frame. Looking down at his new body, backlit in the blue glow of the pod lights around him, several things stood out instantly. The bumpy grey skin wasn’t limited to only the skin on his arms and hands, it covered every inch of flesh. And on top of that, not a single hair could be seen jutting from their follicles; yet despite the lack of natural insulation, Zachary didn’t feel the cold from being completely bare naked.
This new body was almost certainly what one might call a remote host; a bio-engineered body, grown to be without an accompanying mind so as to allow a user to project their own within it to steer it – Zachary was sure of it.
There was, after all, no pesky genitals dangling off it.
This sort of thing had been quite popular in one of the other worlds he had experienced before. An experienced soldier could fight on countless battlefields without risking their lives, the rich could instantly travel to a different planet without even stepping out of their mansions, and a sick individual could live their lives, even as their real body slowly withered away.
Although that was only that one world. Zachary mused as he strolled along the row of pods, tapping on the glass at other dormant vessels. The System must be getting lazy if it’s repeating itself. Plus, I don’t quite remember the colour of the skin being like this, either. It’s better for the human psyche to have skin colour that matches their own. Reduces mental dissonance and makes for a better transition. Actually- didn’t I help with this? It was one of my earlier Masks, I can’t quite remember which- yeah, I did, didn’t I? If I recall correctly, I’d wanted to tinker with the bio-interface… or something like that. Then before I could get around to starting on that project, that life cycle ended when I dropped a sample of genetically modified fast-acting flesh-eating bacteria. Butterfingers. I suppose this world beat me to the punch.
Wait, crap- where’s the shirt?! He’d been so preoccupied by the novel experience, having being deposited in a weird body like this one, that he had completely missed the obvious – that the stained shirt which he’d definitely remembered to bind to himself, had not made the trip with him. Zachary frantically looked around the room. He rushed back to his empty pod, examining the insides – but to no avail.
Impossibly, it seemed that the object that he’d bound to himself had vanished into thin air.
That can’t be. It should have been linked to me! That’s a rule of the world; the System! Damn it, all the world numbers were on there! And it’s not like otherworlders are a dime a dozen; so if I want to call the base again I’ll need something to simulate those very same conditions! Damn it!
Zachary cursed as he nervously paced about in a circle. Without those pesky world numbers, it would be a massive undertaking to have to contact the two idiots. So even if he did find his Mask in this world, he’d still be out of luck in the ‘retrieving all other fragments’ respect.
Then there was this body. Clone bodies like the one he was in were strictly classified as automatons – the inanimate mimicking the living. They were made to be durable, sure. But they couldn’t exert much physical force without being specialised for it. And they couldn’t grow or acquire Skills like other living beings could – at least, not the normal kinds of Skills. Golems and homunculi like these could theoretically learn Skills relating to their race, but there was a bunch of annoying Skill Acquisition Conditions that Zachary hadn’t bothered to learn – he wasn’t an automaton, so what was the point?
Which meant that that wasn’t an option open to him, either.
Damn it… okay Zachary, let’s assess the situation rationally. It’s not all terrible- at least we’re in the same world as one of your Masks. Hey, that’s a silver lining! Focus on that! Right, intel; that’s what I need. The more information I have, the better.
So; a disguise. The natural progression from the starting point. Blend in, ask questions, get answers; profit. Something inconspicuous would be nice. Zachary spotted a closet in the far right corner, obscured slightly by the darkness of the cloning room.
Perfect.
Well, to be expected, really. If this room was still in active use – and judging by the twenty or so pods in the room, it was – people using the clone bodies would want to be dressed properly. Humans were vain no matter what the world.
And easily embarrassed.
Agh, none of these will work. Zachary winced as he rummaged through the closet. There were outfits, all right. But they were more akin to the gowns hospitals issued to patients than actual clothing. I need something to cover my face and any bits of exposed skin. It’ll be a dead giveaway if I walk out there and someone asks me who’s driving the clone body.
Oh – you idiot! Zachary slapped his forehead with a grey palm. That’s two worlds now; I can just swap to the body in my previous world! And to think I was worried for a second there!
With his sudden revelation, Zachary stopped rustling through the wardrobe, and started to invoke the words that would allow him to change back to his avatar back in the Beastkin world.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Profile Swap!
Only to find that he couldn’t.
The words wouldn’t come out; refused to be expelled from his vocal cords.
Bewildered, Zachary brought his hands to the vicinity of his mouth, running them over his face to ascertain the issue; and soon discovered the horrible truth.
There was no mouth.
This body had been grown to resemble that of a human, sure. Head, torso, legs, arms – but no mouth!
DAMN IT! Stupid designers didn’t think to give this thing a mouth?! Do they have brains?! The whole point of a clone avatar is to do things! And if you can’t communicate with others; how can you do things?! Idiots!
Zachary stomped the ground in mute frustration. Things were going from bad to worse. First he somehow misplaced the world numbers of the other Masks he was aiming for, and now he couldn’t even speak?! That meant a couple of voice dependant Skills were effectively off-limits to him; including Profile Swap and Inspect!
Crap, he grimaced. Zachary grabbed one of the hospital gowns off the hanger, wrapping it around the grey body. Guess I’ll have to risk it. Better than nothing. For that matter, this is a facility that has clone avatars stored within, so there shouldn’t be that much scrutiny placed on me. If anyone asks, I’ll just nod along with whatever assumptions they come up with.
Gown fully on, Zachary walked over to the door, gripping the doorknob.
He took a deep breath.
Into the breach once more.
He turned the knob.
~
“Hold on, hold on- stop, stop, stop!”
Kris, night security guard, hurriedly ran over to the figure in the hallway. He’d been on his rounds patrolling the Better Life complex when he spotted something irregular – an unscheduled Life Model out of its holding pod, a trail of oxygenated gel left behind it. This one was dressed in one of those flimsy blue gowns they gave out to customers, so there was definitely someone steering it on the inside.
But Kris had checked the bulletin before he started his shift – double checked it, even. No scheduled Life Model test runs or transportations for tonight. So this was an unauthorised activation, meaning that he had to detain the perpetrator and report the incident to his superiors. It’d be a hit to his year-end bonus – his superiors would inevitably put the blame for the attempted theft on him – but that beat losing the job entirely.
Kris didn’t want to lose this job – it paid well, and was a cinch to carry out. Three thousand credits, and he only had to walk about for five hours a night?! A dream vocation, alright.
Still, he couldn’t just jump to conclusions. This could be one of those things, couldn’t it? A surprise inspection by a governmental authority? Or perhaps – a hush-hush VIP purchase! If it was the latter and he offended them, this cushy job of his might be jeopardized!
Stupid politicking, he grumbled to himself. Always have to think about the damned hidden meanings of everything nowadays.
“Who are you? This Life Model is property of Better Life Inc. State your name and registration number and I’ll check it with the database.” Kris tapped authoritatively at the interface tablet hanging loosely off his belt.
That wasn’t rude, was it? Nah, it’s formal enough, don’t think if he’ll take offense even if he is a VIP.
I think.
The person piloting the Life Model bowed apologetically and started to gesture at the area around the lower half of his face. Kris frowned as he looked at the Life Model more closely, guessing at what the stranger was getting at. Ah, they hadn’t initialised the different bio-modules yet; the Model was still in its initial start-up template. So no mouth, no way to communicate.
“You- you have to think the command phrasing; the one given to you at orientation, then again when you paid for the Model. Do you remember it?” Kris told the Model carefully. Evidently the person in the Model was some newbie or wasn’t familiar with the different commands to instruct the Model to grow the relevant organs available to it, because the grey man started to shake his head vigorously.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured the customer as gently as he could. The very real possibility of it being a VIP was, of course, still nagging at the back of his head – well, it had to be a VIP, right? A thief would have run the second he approached him. Heck, a thief wouldn’t have bothered putting on a gown. It would waste too much time that they could be spending locating an avenue of escape.
“I’ll look up the mouth growing command phrase in the database- just give me a moment.”
Kris took the tablet at his waist into his hands and tapped out the four digit lock code, unlocking the tablet. A few swipes later he’d brought up the customer-limited list for bio-module initialisation.
“Ok, let’s see here… Right, here it is- think the words, ‘Green Rocket’. Those words exactly, green rocket. It’ll generate the vocal cords and relevant body infrastructure- mouth and whatnot.”
The Model nodded, and squeezed its eyes shut, apparently thinking the words it had been told.
Kris watched in mild disgust as from the smooth grey skin above the chin tiny pustules formed quickly and ballooned outwards, then popped simultaneously as a slit emerged horizontally across.
The security guard wasn’t often present for these initialisations; he was a low level employee, just there to make sure nobody got in. But he had been informed of how the Models functioned; they were grown using revolutionary bio-tech – universal cells that readily adapted to whatever they were required for. Meaning that if necessary, these creations could create additional limbs, increase their body height; anything.
But the unfortunate drawback, was that it wasn’t pretty to look at. Which he supposed wasn’t what the scientists really cared about. As long as it worked, who cared what it looked like?
“A… ah…”
“Yeah, yeah, take your time. When you’re ready, name and registration number.” Kris repeated, aimlessly scrolling down the list on the tablet as he waited for the Model to identify themselves.
Oh, these things could grow extra eyes! Cool.
And… extra genitals.
With an additional option to mix and match.
He smirked. Yep, these features were definitely aimed towards the rich.
Kinky bunch.
“…ah, thanks for letting me know what the command was.” The Model spoke up in a hoarse voice, the person within expressing their gratitude. “You can guess how much of a panic I was in- waking up with no mouth! Really; thank you again.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” Kris waved it off. “Now, name and registration number, please.”
“Err, before that- could I ask you something? It’s important.”
Kris looked up from the tablet.
“Yes?”
“Is there anyone else in the building? Besides you, that is.”
“No, just me- why?” Kris replied to the strange question, confused.
What had that got to do with anything?
“Oh, ok. Thanks.” The Model said, smiling.
Then, pulling back – and with perfect form – Zachary delivered a swift blow to the night guard’s chin, knocking him out stone-cold.
He shook his hand off. It didn’t hurt, but sensation from the impact had still been transmitted to wherever the brain in this body was. A sort of weird tingling.
The tablet! Zachary hastily picked up the device and tapped the screen before the automatic screen lock activated. Luckily, it hadn’t turned off, or he’d be down another source of valuable information. Commands, commands; what's this, storage? Pink Raccoon?
To his delight, the skin covering his lower abdomen rolled away, revealing a hidden cavity which one could assume was a hands-free storage that users of the service could utilise to carry about various objects.
But that wasn't what Zachary was happy about - it was what was within the storage space.
A blood-stained tunic, on which were scribbled five strings of numbers. Zachary pulled the shirt from his stomach, hugging it tightly in relief. Oh, thank God! It did come along, after all. Whew; scared me for a moment there.
Depositing the shirt back into the cavity, he thought the storage phrase once more, and the flesh meshed back together.
Alrighty, let’s see what else we can find out. Oh, and I’m going to have to write down some of the mental commands later. Could be helpful.
It took a few tries as he wasn’t too familiar with the user interface, but it was intuitive enough, since Zachary eventually managed to bring up an about page for the company which owned the building he was standing in.
Revolutionary processes, early days… half a month ago?! This company was created just half a month ago?! He pawed at the screen, scrolling up as he looked for the bio of the genius who had founded this rapidly growing enterprise. Gordon Higgins, aged 45- used to be a cleaner?! Is there a picture of this guy? Cause some dude like this has got to be some-
Zachary stopped abruptly.
It was a reflex – one of surprise as he came face to face with an appearance he never expected to see from the other side.
Because while the middle-aged founder was smartly dressed in a tuxedo, hands tucked in his pockets in a confident pose…
Above a smug smile, nestled snugly on his nose and over the upper half of his face…
Was a single, golden Masquerade Mask.
Someone’s using my Mask.