16.1 A great height
(Weaponist, Spatial, Intuition)
Tesset is kind of beautiful. The roads are made of sandy offset bricks instead of dirt. Its low rectangular buildings and brush domino the city in swirls, creating mazes and nooks, framing streets that are clean and wide. Win is walking with Maeven to explore the sights tonight, and it’s beginning to remind him of the French Rivera, if it rose from the desert.
Today was a long day of building houses, handing out meal kits, and reading Riel’s textbooks during the downtimes. They also visited a school, spoke English to kids while holding giant posters that spelt out the alphabet. Forrest was a natural with the students, but to him, the energy of the students among seeing military foreigners felt boundless. Maeven seemed to have shared a similar sentiment. She said she reckoned they still don’t know what a consonant is.
“It was a thief syndicate. They were rehearsed but none of them were Users,” says Maeven.
“Oh, so it was easy then.” he replies.
“We followed their car to another city. That’s where they ended up trading the goods.”
“How was Victor?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Was he good?”
“I mean.” Maeven pauses. “He has military experience.”
Heigen is trailing along with them again, and this time, even without his direct attention, it’s managed to keep somewhat of a pace. They can hear its armour clanking behind them, merely repeating the same movement over and over again. If they reach another turn, he’d have to take control for the minion to differentiate itself.
“Quick summary,” Maeven begins. “We’ve covered Optimisation, Subjection, Creation and Transformation. And we figured out that you specialise in Creation and second in...” she trails.
“Subjection,” he answers.
“And we know that every User has a bit of...”
“Optimisation.”
“Good,” says Maeven. “Now, there’s three categories left. They’re a bit less straightforward so bear with me.
“Weaponist Will is the Will of mastery. That sounds broad, right? It is. It’s called Weaponist Will but it doesn’t have to relate to a weapon, necessarily. It can be a system, a craft, maybe even a certain talent. Captain Leichman seems like a Weaponist to me,” says Riel.
“Leichman?”
“He has mastery over his equipment, like his helmsmanship with Peacemaker. And remember the coach buses? He uses Optimisation to maximise or minimise its size for storage. Captain Eyeshot is the same but it’s the other way around. She leans towards Optimist, seconds in Weaponist when we’re talking about her firearms.”
Win couldn’t tell the difference. Weaponist-Optimist or Optimist-Weaponist, they just sound like the same thing.
“Medic Users are considered Weaponists, if you’ve heard of Will Programmers so are they,” she says. “Anything that sounds a bit esoteric would probably fall in line, but there’s a list that tells us what’s considered Weaponist Will and what isn’t, for the record. Spatialists are the rarest of all Will specialities. I only knew about—one or two in my cohort. People regard it as the most technically challenging of the Ubermen Categories because it’s generally intertwined with things like physics, quantum theory, time and space, the fabric of reality...stuff like that. You don’t have to be some sort of physicist to be one, but usually that’s what it takes.” she says. “That would be things like…teleportation, portalling, telekinesis, maybe flight. If you’re a Spatialist that knows how to teleport, no guild wouldn’t want to hire you.”
“That’s like the Great Portals, right? In the Empire?”
“Those are powered by Spatialists, yes. That’s what we would call it anyway,” says Maeven.
Everyone talks about the Empire portals because it’s beaten the UL in the race to instantaneous, intracontinental travel. There aren’t many Users that can teleport, apparently. The fact that the East was able to cultivate enough Spatialists to support the installation of portals all across the continent is a feat no outside nation has yet been able to fathom.
Win doesn’t mind the subloops, though. And there’s a reason why buses are still around. Some people like the journey, they want to look out the windows. As long as it doesn’t take too long, he guesses.
“Last is Will for Intuition. It represents instinct, and the sensitivity to arousal. Remember when I said there are two out of three Categories that every User has a bit of? Optimisation is the first. Intuition’s the other one.”
“Psychics,” says Win.
“Sure, foresight,” she says. “There’s also empathy, Resonance reading, telepathy…”
They reach a curve at the end of the road and both stop walking. Win, needing a second to recalibrate his minion, raises his hands and points at Heigen.
Heigen steps back, steps forward, pivots, steps again.
“That’s all the categories,” Maeven says. “Optimisation, Subjection, Transformation, Creation, Weaponist Will, Spatial Will and Intuition. Everyone specialises in one and more or less seconds in another. Which categories do Users always have regardless of specialty? Intuition and Optimisation. Make sense?”
Win hums in acknowledgement. Slowly, the minion orients itself.
“Somethings still bothering me though,” says Win.
“What is it?”
“It’s still…” Win makes the minion step towards them, close enough so that he can reach it. He swipes, and his hand moves through its body, glitching like a projection.
“How do we get it to concretise, you mean?” says Maeven.
Yeah. That.
Riel thinks.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“I have an idea,” she says.
Imposed at the centre of Tesset is a large stone tower, layered with decorative tiles of blue and green on the outside. It’s been a hallmark to the assignees in this particular city ever since they drove in, and during the daytime, it looks like it’s painted onto the sky. They thought it was some sort of religious monument at first; someone from the council confirmed that this one isn’t. Just an old military installation, decorated to match the neighbouring courthouse.
The two of them are spiralling up the narrow steps. Maeven climbs with seemingly no effort while Win labours behind. He should’ve asked for an explanation, at least. When they were on the ground all Maeven did was glance around, point, and tell him, “Up there,” and he merely followed with the trust that she knew what she was talking about.
When is this Optimisation going to kick in…
“Why did you join the Reserve?” Riel asks.
He’s somewhat breathless. “I wanted time to get away and work on my Concept. My parents didn’t think I was doing anything sitting at home, so.”
“You didn’t look for a job?”
“Why should I? I don’t want one.”
“How are you going to earn money?”
“It’ll happen,” he says. “I just want to get stronger. That’s all I’m focusing on.” He adjusts the cap over his hair. “Why did you join?”
At first, she walks a few steps without answering. “I didn’t like sitting at home either.”
“Shit sucks, right?”
She says, “Yeah.”
It takes time to work on a Concept. A lot of thinking and trying again. He stopped telling people he was trying to be a User a long time ago, because the responses were always so unserious and wrong that he decided it wasn’t worth sharing at all. But it’s frustrating when you’re trying to achieve something that could change your life—heck it could change the world, when all you have to show for it are the words: Wait, you’ll see.
Anyway, he’s not doing it for other people. That’s what his mantra is for.
“When you and your Will are aligned, that’s when your power can be realised, right?” Maeven explains, as if the previous conversation never happened.
He’s too out of breath to answer.
“There are certain situations where we can force that alignment to happen,” she says.
They reach the top. A small roof bells above them. Maeven and Win lean over the balcony: all the way down at ground level, Heigen is standing below.
Maeven isn’t speaking. She grips her chin, drums her fingers on the stone railing.
“Now I’m not insisting you do anything,” says Maeven, after a while.
Maeven sounds unsure about something. She doesn’t know how to explain what she’s trying to say. She was talking about an “alignment” when they were walking up the steps, whatever that means. A few seconds of Win thinking about it, it clicks.
“Oooh I’m supposed to jump.” he says.
Maeven looks at him. “It’s just an idea,” she disclaims. “It’s completely up to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do it.”
She blinks. “Seriously? You want to?”
“Yeah,” he answers casually. He places his hand on the corner pillar. Maeven lowers it.
“But you are aware of the consequences.”
“It’s like a three-storey drop of course I know the consequences. Do you know the consequences?”
She doesn’t answer.
“If something happens to me, people might think it was your fault.”
She pauses to consider that. Together, they turn to Heigen down below, then back at each other.
“What are you feeling right now?” she asks.
“Well the counting game, the lucid dreaming, the journalling. I didn’t really see the connection at first. This however…This feels like it makes sense.”
“Are you scared?”
“No. I feel like it’s going to work.”
“You feel like nothing can stop you at this moment?”
“I guess you could put it that way.”
“And I’m staying up here, you understand? I have no chance of catching you, because the purpose of this is to have no safety net. Your Will has to have no other choice but manifest. If you know that I can save you, it negates the risk factor.”
Win nods. He climbs up to the railing.
“Give me your hat.”
He takes his cap off and hands it to her. “Thanks for the help.”
He shifts to the edge of the stone, observing the drop. At best he’d break his legs, if Heigen doesn’t manage to do anything. But even as he looks down, there isn’t a doubt in his mind. He’s only felt this sure a few times in his life. When he decided to become a User. When he put his first pencil to paper.
“I always trust that feeling,” Maeven tells him last.
He pushes himself off the railing.
Rushing wind. His VR uniform ripples in the plummet. He can feel his heart surging with adrenaline, but he stays calm, eyes locked on his manifestation below.
I could die…
It’s a momentary, flippant thought.
It would be disappointing, he thinks. His life hasn’t been very fruitful until now. He had a quiet graduation. He passed without ever really studying. Made friends without ever really trying.
His only job was working at his parent’s restaurant.
But his sister would miss him.
Time’s distorted. He’s falling fast but long.
He’s not going to die.
It’ll work.
As he squints his eyes in the wind, all he sees is the ground, rapidly closer with each blink, and above it, his manifestation.
Heigen. His Creation. His antithesis made with his own Will.
Another blink and he swears the minion begins to saturate. He blinks again. Heigen slowly reaches forward with its arms.
The Creation leaps, glinting under the moonlight like a platinum angel. Win can feel the smooth, cold steel as the armour begins to cradle him in the air, its shadowy interior touching his skin like a cool mist.
To his perception, the drop to the ground feels feathery slow. He can’t stop staring at the minion, its yellow eyes fixated on the pavement.
Heigen lands with Win in its arms, and he doesn’t care about the noise, nor the pain in his back, he yells in triumph with his fists in the air, and his voice echoes down the paved streets.
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16.2 Announcement
After the walk, Maeven and Win return to their accommodation. They’re animated compared to their usual demeanours, reliving the moment at the military tower.
“I was so close to changing my mind,” says Maeven.
“Yeah, and then we would have to walk back down like a million steps.”
“I felt the armour and the katanas. It’s pretty solid, you did a good job.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank yourself.”
“Yeah that’s how I meant it.”
She pushes him with her elbow.
This time, the VR is stationed at a three-storey, orange adobe brick hotel lined with tiny windows that was emptied just for the Reserve. Inside, the floors of their hallways and rooms are layered with old Persian carpets, where it smells of something like mildew and dried bark. Bunk beds have been prepped for most of the assignee rooms, lined up along the walls and fitted with fresh sheets.
After a lukewarm shower, Maeven lies down on the bunk above Gunner’s. The conversations are beginning to ease.
“D’you think we get steak one of these nights?” says Gunner. “None of this chicken bullshit.”
“Is there not beef in the meat cubes?” says Forrest.
“Everything’s in the meat cubes, Forrest.”
Maeven stares at the ceiling. She still hasn’t processed what Win had managed to pull off at the tower. You can’t apply the same standard assumptions on Win as you would some ordinary student of Will, that’s for sure.
Seeing him accomplish something like that, it was satisfying. It took her back to some of her best moments at the academy. The breakthroughs, feeling like your work has finally paid off.
She pulls the sheets over her shoulder and rolls to her side, feeling a renowned appreciation for spring mattresses. It’s much more comfortable that the fold-out nylon, or the ground. She closes her eyes, feeling absolutely exhausted.
To their dismay, somebody switches on the light. Members of Sky, Sand and Ocean groan in protest.
There’s a Resonance walking towards her. Maeven opens her eyes to see Ina standing by her bunk.
“Congratulations,” the assignee says unhappily.
“What the hell Ina…” says Henri from Sky Company. “Turn the light off.” mutters Jackson.
“What for?” says Maeven.
“You’ll be leading Sand and Ocean on a big mission,” says Ina. “Eyeshot’s office. Tomorrow morning 0600.”
Together?
“You’re welcome by the way.”
“Are you done?” Henri says.
“If you need a bunk, Gunner doesn’t mind sharing huh Gun?” says Jackson.
She hears Gunner tap on his mattress.
“Fuck off?” says Ina. “Sky’s getting a mission too.” She tells them that and then walks out the door, leaving it ajar with the lights still on. More complaints. Maeven drowns them out.
Is Ocean Company prepared for another mission? Their last one in Rosca ended in a fight, and depending on what Ina meant by “big,” this could potentially be a lot more dangerous than guarding a city border. Gunner and Callum aren’t Will Users, Forrest doesn’t want to develop his Will, and Win’s, though he’s made impressive progress, probably isn’t enough to use in combat.
On behalf of everyone, Stendahl is the one to switch the light off. Maeven sinks back into her pillow.
Thanks Ina.
Just as she was about to sleep, nonetheless.