The next morning—after breakfast—I played hide and seek with my cousins. An impromptu quest netted me a handful of experience when I was able to find both of them in under five minutes. Dad got stuck helping Grandpa Milton with some house work, so Aunt Kat took me out to the store to pick up some items after I indicated I wanted to use some of the money Mom and Dad had given me.
“Where to, Eddy?” she asked while buckling me into the booster seat.
“Somewhere I can get a bigger shovel and bucket,” I answered.
“What for?”
“To dig up razor clams. I want to try making some clam chowder.”
Aunt Kat nodded and said she knew just the place for that.
I rode in the car for ten minutes before we arrived. It was one of those beach stores that primarily carried sand toys, chairs, and other beach-related equipment. I was unsure if they’d have what I wanted, but I was willing to at least look inside.
The inside of the store was an eclectic mess of shore and beach paraphernalia. Aunt Kat and I went down each aisle looking for anything that might meet my requirements. Eventually, we stumbled upon a plastic shovel that was the right size for me and also was fairly sturdy. It came with a bucket that would be of sufficient size to keep the clams in. I also picked up a strainer to rinse the sand off the clams so as not to bring the entire beach back with me along with the clams.
“Don’t you want something else?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Are you sure? ‘Livi got the inflatable shark here…”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Satisfied with my purchases—and with defending my remaining wad of cash—I got back in the car and rode back to the house. I stowed the shovel and bucket inside the garage. Then came lunch, after which it was time for Dad to go home.
“Have fun, Eddy,” Dad said, giving me a big hug. “Your mother will be here to get you on Saturday in two weeks. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I waved as he got into his truck and backed out onto the road. I turned to see the rest of my family standing with me wishing him a safe trip home. A grin graced my face when I walked back into the house.
“Grandma Rose?” I asked.
“Yes dear?” she replied.
“If I got some clams today at the beach, could we make clam chowder with them?”
She took a few minutes to look through the fridge and cabinets before she answered.
“I don’t see why not. Do you have a way to get them?”
“Yeah. I went out with Aunt Kat for a shovel and bucket.”
She nodded.
“Don’t come back from the beach too late. Cooking something that delicious takes time!”
I laughed with her.
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I got changed and gathered everyone to head to the beach. My aunt and uncle decided to go shopping together, but my cousins and grandparents walked with me to the beach. I carried everything I needed to hunt clams. It was uncomfortable to walk with and I dreaded walking back with it when it was full of water and clams.
The sky was filled with puffy clouds—not enough to block the sun completely, but enough to bring the temperature down some. There was a stiff breeze running along the coast as well, so I was glad that I would be digging clams instead of swimming.
Grandpa Milton spread the towels out and weighed them down with piles of sand on the corners. Grandma Rose and Olivia followed me across the shallows to the first sandbar. There were remnants of the sand castle we’d built the day before—well, the moat of it, at least—which Olivia happily pointed out to Grandma Rose.
I cast my eyes from side to side, looking for an active blow hole bubbling sand. I saw many on just that sandbar alone. The wet sand was heavy and a challenge to dig through, but I took small scoops from around one of the holes until the tip of my shovel felt something hard. Sensing my efforts, the clam attempted to dig deeper. I stuck my shovel under it and lifted. The clam came out with the sand surrounding it—right into my strainer. Grandma Rose washed the clam off and stuck it in the bucket with some sea water.
Stolen story; please report.
Olivia and I took turns digging out clams from the sandbar. She struggled her way through it and snagged several. Some of the blow holes were abandoned—lots of digging for no prize. I was happy to see that each clam caught did net me some experience. However, it was for harvesting rather than for combat. I supposed that made sense since I wasn’t killing the clams—yet.
Eventually, Grandma Rose thought we had dug up enough and so she and I walked back to the house with the catch. Olivia decided to remain at the beach with her brother and Grandpa Milton for a little longer. The bucket was, as I had suspected, really fucking heavy. I did my best to carry it, but Grandma Rose had to help me lug it back to the house.
She showed me how to rinse and clean the clams. In doing so, I collected the Combat Experience as the act of cleaning the clams was enough to finally kill them. She wouldn’t let me cut the veggies—leeks, carrots, and potatoes—but I was allowed to open the cans of corn and drain them. With everything prepared, it was time to cook.
An entire stick of butter went in along with the vegetables to sauté them. When the veggies had softened some, she added some flour to form a roux. After that cooked for about a minute, she helped me pour in half a gallon of chicken stock. To that, she added spices and salt before setting it to simmer for forty minutes.
While the potatoes softened and the rest of the flavors got to know each other, Grandma Rose began working on an apple pie. I helped by peeling the apples and using the stand mixer to make whipped cream. She handled the rest of it. By the time the pie went in the oven, it was just about the right time to make the chowder into, well, chowder.
She killed the stove’s flame before adding the clams—followed a couple minutes later by a substantial amount of heavy cream. The cloudy, slightly yellow soup turned milky white in an instant. The Crafting Experience awarded let me know that the soup was officially done!
Grandpa Milton called to let us know that he—and my cousins—were on their way back. My aunt and uncle popped in and offered to help get the table ready while Grandma Rose and I finished up the food. Besides waiting for the pie to bake, there were few items left on the list.
First up was toast to dip into the hot soup. I worked the toaster with practiced hands—and a fork. In no time at all, I had toasted half a loaf of bread and plated them neatly. That went to the table along with some butter. Grandma handled the salad. She put it into a gigantic wooden bowl. Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and so much more all piled and dressed in a homemade vinaigrette.
Finally, it was time to sit down and eat. Aunt Kat helped Grandma serve the food. It started with the salad before moving on to the main course of clam chowder. I savored the flavors of the soup, carefully dipping buttered bread into it while it cooled down. The sweet and buttery taste of the liquid mixed with the satisfying pops of the corn was heavenly. And that was without mentioning the fresh clams!
By the time dinner was over, I felt like a balloon filled almost to bursting. The apple pie had been great—even if I could only fit a few bites. I decided to call it an early night to catch up on quests and to check on how the writing project was going.
I managed to get some experience from a jump in followers. According to the stats I could see, it had to do with it being referenced by some social media account. The jump wasn’t big, but it was a start. I smiled—more from the extra experience than anything else.
Speaking of experience, I checked how I had been doing over the last two days while on vacation. It wasn’t as dire as I had feared it might have been, but the overall rate of experience gained was down. The positive was that many of the activities I’d been able to do at the beach had been worth enough experience to mostly make up for the daily quests I was unable to accomplish.
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The rest of the vacation went much the same as the first two days—albeit with less excitement and discovery. I managed to pick up nearly two thousand experience in that time, bringing my total to 24,305. I was a fair way off from the first permanent purchase, but I had time on my side still.
I continued to write in the evenings and whenever my cousins had their nap time. Ratings were coming in mixed—which is about what I expected. It still hurt to see the bad reviews no matter how prepared for them I thought I was. Followers continued to climb—if slowly—but each additional added to my experience total. That part always brought a smile to my face. I had to remind myself that I was doing this project as a test to see if it would affect the timeline any. If I let it get to me, I would end up changing nothing!
Spur of the moment one evening, I thought to check if there were any upgrades that would let me take things into the past with me so that I wouldn’t have to rewrite the story or maybe bring some cash back with me. It did exist, but it was prohibitively expensive and came with the negative of making the monsters stronger, so I knew I probably wouldn’t get it. However, its existence did give me some other ideas.
Feature: Timeless Vault
Prerequisites: Restart I
Unlock Personal Use: 100,000 Exp
Unlock For Universal Use: N/A
Description: Allows for items to be brought back upon restarting
Feature: Companion I
Prerequisites: Restart I
Unlock Personal Use: 100,000 Exp
Unlock For Universal Use: N/A
Description: Allows for one person’s memories to be brought back upon restarting
Feature: Experience Vault
Prerequisites: Restart I
Unlock Personal Use: 100,000 Exp
Unlock For Universal Use: N/A
Description: Allows for excess experience to be brought back upon restarting
The only one I could consider was maybe the experience one. It might be worthwhile on a later loop to buy that. Still, just purchasing it would mean another two or three levels to the monsters. I would have to weigh the savings of the feature against both the cost of it and the cost of stronger monsters later down the line.
I put those thoughts to the back of my mind. Mom was coming tomorrow to pick me up and there was one last event to enjoy before then. I’d been looking forward to it ever since Grandpa Milton spilled the beans. We were going to a baseball game and fireworks!