A simple venture up one of the workbench's legs brought me to a whole new mess. Varying clamps and other tools were set aside for a project that was clearly far from its inevitable completion, and some were even left spilling out of the semi-mechanical machine that was centered in the workspace. Another similar-looking machine had it's back panel taken off and sat cattycorner to the pile of tools laid about for use. As I moved around their large rectangular frames, I saw the front of the machines were facing towards the back wall and had numerous knobs and switches with many symbolic settings. Nothing was particularly familiar about the machines until I saw what was undeniably a power button, a symbol synonimous with initial function, and all just sitting there like it came from a steampunk convention through a portal and plopped itself right down here in another world.

After glancing at the recognisable circle with a small dash through it's top for an uncomfortable amount of time, I figured I'd just leave the questions for later and continue my productive roll until all was sparkles and sunshine. However sparkly and sunny it could get in the depths of the earth anyway. Pretty sparkly, actually, if some thought was put into it.

I pushed the distractions out of my mind and went about cleaning the metal tools as they lay. A common practice I had used a number of times before after meeting several masters of their craft and quickly learning that tools not where they were left were 'lost' to an artisans eyes, and 'lost' is nonconducive to a proficient or efficient work environment. People in their industry of choice loved when they could find what they were looking for because they always knew where they left their tools. A master of avionics had only once requested I completely put away every single one of his tools. The only reason was he was heading out on a trip to assist in the repair of the largest turbine engine known to man, providing the functional power for the largest spacecraft ever created and the only Gladiator Class Space Exploration Vehicle. G.C.SEV as all the nerds would chant in unison. It was their creation after all.

My mind wandered as I navigated my back and forth path across the working surface. Its heavily cracked wood boards heighten the difficulty to clean consistently, and I gradually cleaned less and less from between the boards and just focused on what was ideal for a space that would become dirtied again soon enough. I came across a 4-piece flathead screwdriver set hanging off one side, the tips showing no wear in stark contrast to the other tools. An obvious reason hung on the front, showing near identical tools slightly bent and even shorter from repeated use. As wild as the notion did seem, the metal was obviously not going to be on par to grade 9 titanium like back home. Probably not much better than crudely refined iron, let alone steel. There were certainly going to need to be some improvements to the manufacture and process that was currently implemented in society if this was standard.

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A couple hours have passed, and the workbench has been cleaned to an impeccable degree. I only need to climb the workbench's tool wall and clean the top board of it's dust, and I'll be done with the workspace.

As my elevation started to reach it's peak, something started gleaming brightly—a reflection coming from a wooden crate with it's lid ajar. Where or what the light source was, I had no idea, but there was a reflection metallic and colorful, unlike anything I knew. I reached the top and started my duty, inching along the 6-foot length of support but keeping an eye on which crate that was. I hadn't much focused on anything besides what was directly on the floor earlier and was nonshelaunt about a simple obstacle that I had just cleaned around. The lid was hardly off anyway and undicernable from the two other crates. Soon enough, I'd be finished and be heading down to check out whatever was in that box.

Task Complete!

Clean Tren's Workspace

Difficulty: A (C-)

Rewards:

1 Artisan Point

200 XP

Level Up!

LVL 1 > 3

6 Attribute Points Available

ZIP! A white orb popped through the solid stone ceiling and shoved itself into my face. Quickly illuminating my view and causing my phantismal self to squint and wave in front of my eyes to no avail as the windows just shown through my arms.

The last thing I had expected was for the obnoxious dinging to come blaring back. It's loudness far exceeding that of what would be audible to normal ears, but on closer attention to the window, I realised quickly why it was so loud. One window had an unusually bright outline. A clear sign that there were actually about a dozen windows overlapping and all in one spot. Shuffling through their contents was the now complete request, with its discovery difficulty, a gray questionmark, the profile of Tren with only information I had gleamed from what he had told me and my impression of him, a quest to learn more about the depths of the deepest place above water with a rank of M, whatever that means, 3 windows with updates to a quest to "discover the underground civilization or dispell it's myth," which apparently I had learned quite a bit since Tren's acquaintance, and lastly a unique window with several bars showing what I had contained within my mass. Talk about a mouthful to chew.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

I thought back to my escape on the surface. I recalled that in the heat of things was right when the white orb had disappeared from the corner of my vision; the orb's color hadn't seemed important at the time, but the windows were distinct. There were blue ones I didn't pay attention to and disappeared when I accidentally looked at them, red ones always at the edge of my viewing range, green showed up and disappeared only to show me my unlocked nature, and, lastly, white, which was the system as I understood it.

Maybe there were more, but back to the present. The new window had a transparent and uneaven edge; its resemblance to a slimey creature was blatant and obvious. Within me was nondescript soil, viscous fluids, lively colony (e+), reduced metals, and organic matter. Not very descriptive, but probably all the information that the slime could decipher with it's simplicity. In fact, I was pretty sure that the window was directly from the slime itself, not part of the other windows and more a part of us. It, the vessel, me, the pilot, and the window—a display in my cockpit.

I had fronted the information the windows provided, tossed the quests to the back since it was pretty clear I'd be completing them later, and resumed my curious trend in the direction of some boxes. As I closed the distance, I noticed a black brick sitting in the middle of the room, roughly the size of a smartphone back in the early 21st century. Instantly recognising it from earlier as a byproduct of my previous—and first—meal, I snagged it and drug it along with me. I had no idea of its use or perhaps lack thereof, but leaving such a thing just lying about wasn't my idea of a perfectly clean room, which I was hoping Tren would be at least slightly ecstatic about. He already has shown probably the least emotion out of anyone I'd ever met.

I propped the brick on its side against the box and started to scale it's corner. The box was actually sealed, but the lid, through some deformations, no longer fit the box it was built for, and the residual crack from the improper fit left nearly half an inch of gap to peer into its depths and, for me, to slip into. The inside was rather roomy for what I'd thought was going to be mostly full; the slight glow contrasted the pitch darkness of this particular dark corner, and the apparatus and its crystal core were also far more refined and sophisticated in comparison to most of Tren's other belongings. That's assuming these are in fact his; not that I'd judge if it was stolen from a certain prick who tried to capture me, but anyway. The glow had grown slightly brighter when I got closer to the middle of the silver rings surrounding the large gem; each ring holding a different orrientation made it look like a piece of art or perhaps a measuring device from some fantasy to seek distant places among the stars.

My non-physical body had shrunk to suit my very short stature, and I stood beside my new body looking at the crystal. The reflection I saw earlier flared and was shown again, but instead of reacting to my slime, it was heavily focused on my incoporeal stature. I saw my face and body in detail, familiar and exactly what I expected, but my arms and legs had developed slime-like natures, reflecting my adaptation to a new body to control. I lifted my arm up, and the reflection mimicked my wave, the slime arm trailing slightly with no bone structure to give it rigidity. Comparing what I saw of my own phantom body and the reflection that showed a splash of who I had become was an interesting perspective change. I reached out to touch the crystal.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Tren's voice tappered off slightly while he looked at my reflection. He whispered slightly under his breath, "A facinating reflected persona you have indeed."

I had shrunk back from the fancy mirror, slightly startled by his voice. 'I respect the urgency but a knock would have surficed.'

"Danger waits for no one, small friend, and I would rather not lose the only other... person—down here with intelligence that wants to talk instead of trying to slaughter any little thing that so much as has a heartbeat." He said with a grim smile.

A couple clicks riddled out as he fiddled with the box and eventually popped the lid off the container and fished me out. I clung to his hand and wrist like a glove and pointed at the brick knocked over from where I'd propped it. 'Any use for a slime brick?'

He grabbed it, shaking his head. "You can just eat it again and it will disappear. If I recall correctly, I think I overheard a mage talking about slimes gaining something depending on what the slab's material was created with. Not my expertise though, so take it with a grain of wheat."