The River Fan had driven Truth into a quiet fury. Its tutelary spirit would be quite hurt by that, if it still lived. It’s not like it wanted to be polluted. It would have pointed out that it had been millennia of human management and intervention that left the watershed like this. The river was every bit as much a victim as Truth was.
Some absolute bastard, probably a long series of serious, hard working, focused bastards, had been working to remove the pollution from the River Fan. They did this by means of magical filtration, apparently. The river was lined with canals. Water was very gently drawn into the canals, through a filter at the mouth, then once it had passed through the canal, the water made its slow, winding way back to the river via another filter. Or a lake, a pond, the sea, but in any case the water only moved, very gently, very slowly, in one direction along the canal.
He could now understand what he had spent most of his life looking at. The toxic water was pulled in through the first filter. It primarily existed to maintain the flow rate and ensure the canal didn’t get overfull during the torrential rains that came in the early spring and fall. If there are any problems, it also prevents backflow. The filter at the other end was a wonderfully sophisticated bit of magical engineering. It let fish through, plants through, boats through, but not alchemical runoff. Or plastic sachets, or human waste however defined. Those it kept inside.
The toxicity of the canals was slowly, permanently, building. There must be some other part of this he was missing. Something that had kept the canals from exploding into flame or boiling with toxic gasses. He couldn’t remember anything that looked like a reasonable suspect. All he knew was that, from his perspective, the money-earning parts of the city were pumping their poison runoff into the slums, and leaving it there. Keeping all the unwanted, but necessary, side effects in one place.
Truth privately swore to let it all run out- not into the river, but into the rich downtown. He could see the rushing, toxic waters sweeping through the fancy little stores and charming bakeries, into the apartment buildings in neighborhoods where normal families were forbidden on pain of imprisonment or being reduced to a denizen. He would sit on a rooftop with a bag of snacks and watch the black waters sweep through, smashing open doors and gates so the rats swarming after it could feast.
He let out an explosive sigh. The people in the rich part of the city benefited from the system, but they didn’t make it. They probably didn’t understand it any more than the slumrats did. Well, some of them clearly did, they kept it going after all, but really, it was at most the people at the very top and their elite servants. Based on what he had seen so far, he wasn’t sure that any one person really understood the systems they had built.
The barge seemed to drift down the river, carrying cargo containers full of who knows what. Chariots. Carriages. Pallets of water talismans. Each bearing a sigil that would tell the magical devices where to send it next, until it finally reached its destination. One system. The goods had to be paid for. Another system. There needed to be some way to regulate the movement of the barges, so you didn’t get accidents and traffic jams on the rivers and canals. Another system. How the stores were run and taxed. System.
Systems of systems. Enormous complexity that was invisible once you got high enough, and was so big you couldn’t see it when you were in ‘em. Swirling, dizzying systems of systems, systems all the way up and all the way down. Living in an apartment building? That was a whole system of systems right there, and you haven’t even left your front door yet. The nightmare of a commute and securing breakfast on the go awaited. More systems than you could even count.
What did it all look like, from the highest throne? Did Yaldabaoth foresee all these systems when it created the world? Or was the initial creation so powerful, it naturally gave rise to endless systems without his needing to consider them?
The barge pulled level with an unpopulated stretch of sidewalk. A long jump from the river to shore. Truth smiled. Complexity be damned, sometimes you just wanted to move. And with a sudden burst of effort, he did just that.
Truth made his way through the riverside neighborhood. The homes were nice, of course, but not particularly luxurious in this stretch. It was just a bit too close to some alchemist towers for complete comfort. Still nice, though. Trees dotted the sidewalk, comfortable carriages parked in leathally expensive garages. Nice little shops selling things that were not, strictly speaking, fancy, but were better than anything he had grown up with.
His eye was irresistibly drawn to a glowing illusion of a blossoming water flower. It was a small branch of the Green Lotus chain of apothecaries. A direct subsidiary of the Floating Dream Alchemy Tower, which to Truth’s continual surprise, was not an appendage of Starbrite. Not a competitor either- Truth remembered seeing plenty of their products in the System Shop. But in its own quiet way, it had carved out a powerful niche in Jeon, as the leading retail apothecary.
He had never been in one. Which was bizarre, because he had heard about them his whole life, talked about them, walked past them, but never actually been in one. By the time he was a citizen with actual walking around money, he was in Starbrite. Any medicine or elixir would be delivered to his door with a thought.
He smiled and went in. The dead drop would keep a little longer.
He walked into the store, dressed lightly in the identity of a moderately wealthy young man. He was leery of pushing any harder than that, and besides, he was window shopping. Nothing in this shop would be useful for a Level Four.
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The air tasted sweet, and somehow green. Like walking into a greenhouse full of flowers on the edge of blooming. Everything was very clean, very white, with pale blond woods displaying pills, elixirs, ointments and other alchemical wonders under two centimeter thick spelled glass. To maintain perfect freshness, a discreet sign informed shoppers. And certainly not because some of these products were worth more than a D Tier Starbrite employee earned in several years.
Truth vividly remembered buying that Ghul potion from Prentiss when he pushed for his breakthrough. “This ain’t exactly the Green Lotus,” he had said. “You couldn’t afford to breathe the air in a Green Lotus. You can afford old Feng’s,” Prentiss retorted.
It had all worked out. Still. Nothing in here looked like it was picked up by scavengers and sold to the shop. Every pill had been branded with the Lotus logo, a brand that could be checked by talisman to ensure authenticity, date of production, manufacturing alchemist, lot number, and endless other details useful to commerce. From the second it was manufactured, to the second it dissolved in your belly, that pill’s existence was accountable.
“Can I help you?” The clerk was pretty, in a boy next-door sort of way. He had the androgyne look that was so desirable, but lacked the subtle touches to elevate him to the next level of beauty. A poor family, then, as those things went in this neighborhood. They probably spent all they had on cosmetic refinements to get him this far, praying that he would build a career from this humble beginning.
“Yes, I’m doing a little shopping around, just seeing what’s on the market. My little brother’s sixteenth is coming up next month, and I wanted to get a feel for prices. Do you have any decent, not too expensive, Level Zero cultivation potions?”
Left unsaid was that an elixir would be much too expensive. It didn’t need to be said, such things were criminally expensive for everyone. A genuine potion would already be considered lavish affection.
“Lucky boy. We have options at a variety of price points.” The clerk turned to walk away, then in a painfully rookie move, hesitated and looked questioningly at Truth.
“Brother from another mother. Dad decided he wanted an upgrade when I was ten.”
“I am so sorry. That was none of my business.”
“It’s what it is. I just felt like I always had to look out for Fal, you know? He was so much smaller and weaker. It’s been rewarding.” Truth smiled, letting the strong big brother identity firm around him. “I like taking care of little brothers, it seems.”
“Very lucky boy. Level Zero potions are this way.” The clerk turned and led him over to a display case with ten potions on display. Truth caught a hint of flush on the younger man’s neck. Laughing silently to himself, he followed.
“Have you kept up on potion trends?”
“I can’t say I have. Prices have gone up, I’m certain, but they have been skyrocketing for years now.”
“Sadly true.” The clerk nodded. There was a flash of real pain there. “Well, the big breakthrough development of the last year has been Functional Strengthtm. Thanks to major developments in both anatomical natural philosophy, as well as cutting edge alchemical development in the Floating Dream Tower, we can now provide potions to enhance the effective strength of muscles without increasing bulk. This allows the user to retain the classic Jeon look, while leaning into the more rugged physicality that is so popular right now.”
Truth pretended to ignore the darting side eye he got from the clerk.
“Huh. Any help on cultivation?” Truth asked.
“Not generally. The top end of the Sprinter range, the SX-4, does provide some benefit to the inner channels and aperture foundation, so their cultivation will be a little smoother. It's intended to complement classic cultivation potions, not replace them.”
“I see. Functional strength is in? I always get looks when people see how bulky I am.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but… you do look very strong.” The clerk sounded embarrassed. In Jeon, manual labor was nothing to be proud of. A real mage cast spells and bound demons and angels to labor for them. Long, manicured nails had always been a sign of prosperity, as was long hair, and a slim physique.
“What can I say? I love feeling my body move. I can run for hours, climb mountains, and leap across rivers.” He smiled happily. “Hard. Strong. Enduring. My body is fun.”
“No, I like it!” The clerk blurted, then blushed. “Oh Praeger. Look. Honestly? If you can’t buy something today, buy it tomorrow or as soon as you can. We are pushing the Functional Strengthtm range because elixir reagents have gone from criminally expensive to simply not available at any price. Not at an acceptable level of quality, anyway. It’s a good time to have muscles. And prices are only going to go up faster and faster.”
Truth nodded at that. “And you?”
“Get off work at six?”
Truth smiled. “I won’t be here today. But I will be around.”
Truth made his way to the dead drop, looking at the people around him. They were adapting. They had to adapt, but it was interesting seeing them do it. They were trying to adapt without changing too much. Keeping the look while upping the muscle. Increasing the labor supply while deepening the class system. Clinging to the strong, no matter what they looked like.
Well. That last thought was probably unfair. He was hardly ugly, even if he was bulky and crude looking. People were free to like what they liked. Truth spotted a dancing illusion of a little blue haired fairy in a store window, seven pointed stars drifting down around it. It was advertising a home ice cream machine.
No. He wasn’t ugly. He wasn’t dumb. And while there weren't a ton of people that knew and loved him, he was content with who he had. And if he felt the urge to stand above others, to enjoy their fear and worship, to inflict pain to affirm that superiority? He would have to learn to manage it. He would be a man, not a monster. Such traits could be positive, used carefully.
Tucked under the air vent at the top of a thirty story office building was a thick bundle. Truth unwrapped his delivery. His eyebrows almost reached his hairline.
Merkovah had sent presents.