In which I have no answers and more than a few questions
Well, the last few weeks of my life have been… well, interesting would be the understatement of the century.
Not only did I have an official Council representative show up on my doorstep, a high ranking member of the Reformation Order (apparently Mitch, the cleric I saw previously is considered especially low ranking), a few members of the aligned magicians organizations, and a few other distinguished persons who I can’t even be bothered to remember.
At one point, I seriously considered starting to just pretend that I wasn’t at home. Seemed like every couple of hours, someone new and “important” was turning up.
The Order wanted to do a higher resolution scan (as if that’s even possible, considering the description that Mitch gave me of it looking through my atoms and essentia). The magicians wanted to talk to me about having me participate in some experiments. And the Council rep… well, they were interesting.
--
I was so sick of the knocking at the door that I finally opened it.
“What do you want?” I bellowed.
It had been 8 days since my scan, and it hadn’t gotten any less busy and it was getting on my nerves.
It took me several moments to realize that where there should be a person, I wasn’t seeing anyone. At least until I looked down. What my D&D memory helpfully provided back to me was that this was probably a gnome.
Standing probably a foot high and carrying a scroll that appeared to be almost as big as they were, they looked not even like a child, but more like an oversized Ken doll, at least in terms of their proportions.
They weren’t the oddest thing I’d seen so far, but this was the first of… whatever this group actually was, so it probably wouldn’t do for me to be excessively rude as yet, nerves or not.
“And you are?” I prompted, since the little figure appeared to be waiting for something, probably surprise, but given that I wasn’t surprised, I pressed forward.
The almost throaty grumble that came up sounded like the voice of a fantasy dwarf, rather than the often imitated tinny high pitched voice that is normally associated with such small beings.
“I am Representative Odarth of the Council. I am here to see a Sam Evermore, Seer Baseline,” the little figure spoke.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been called a Seer. For some reason, it’s the classification that the Order and the Council had agreed to qualify me as. Much to my dislike, I had no say in this (or at least hadn’t so far).
Notionally, and as far as Lucy and Warren could/would tell me, combined with Wiznet, Seers were an archaic classification. Before the utilization of the current 4 prime categories, there were practically hundreds of categories, subcategories, and resultant classifications and they varied hugely, depending on what part of the world you were in. Almost no standardization.
Seers were apparently something of a joke classification. A kind of boogeyman (which is surprisingly under the lycanthrope category by the same, along with Bigfoot, who is/was likely a lycanthrope exposure event) that was told to non-baseline children that certain baselines could still come after them, no matter how well they hid.
The mechanism as to how seers came into being through was a mystery, even to the non-baseline community.
Seers were more along the lines of baseline hunter leaders, intent on hunting down non-baselines. They’re usually regarded as monster hunters, paladins, or something equivalent, at least in baseline culture, vice being the ‘seers’ who watch the future for kings and emperors from a place of safety. This was because seers could see through the various illusions, camouflages, and similar magical disguises that were the most common means of avoiding being hunted.
By the same token that seers were used to track the non-baseline community, the non-baseline community took the same opportunity to eliminate what seers they could. It was not family friendly in the slightest and being fair, I couldn’t really blame them for doing so with the self-described ‘monster hunters’. The seers of that age really were little better than serial killers. Selective serial killers who were celebrated by their communities, but serial killers none the less.
And so with my emergence, there was apparently huge concern that they would need to make a decision regarding whether to leave me alive or not. This is, as you can imagine, quite a hamper on one’s interest in going out in public and even talking to anyone you’re not familiar with.
You might even say that I had a couple breakdowns in the quiet of my apartment, particularly given that a small but vocal section of Wiznet was calling for me to be executed immediately and even willing to put up materials to find me.
How… not comforting to see that the bigotries that we baselines have towards one another are also reflected in the non-baseline community.
In any case, I now had a small gnome (or something to that effect standing outside my apartment).
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“Do you have any identification to that effect?” I asked. Given the threats, I wasn’t about to let just anyone walk in.
“None that would be visible on your scale, I’m afraid. I am here to deliver this official message to you from the Council, if you are Sam Evermore,” the gnome said, profering out the scroll in such a way that they should have tipped over forward from the effort.
Moving to the kitchen, I grabbed my tongs, gave them a perfunctory click-click and went back to the door. Carefully, I took hold of the scroll from the gnome and brought it in. The apartment barrier didn’t appear to sparkle at all (a telltale that I’d learned to start watching for, indicating the presence of a spell). Related fun fact - only I can see that telltale. No one else (or at least Warren and Lucy) can see it.
Carefully, I unrolled it.
To: Sam Evermore, Seer Baseline
From: High Council of Aligned Beings
It is our duty to inform you that due to your unique status, we had begun deliberations as to your status moving forward within the non-baseline community. Due to the loaded nature of previous Seers, these deliberations have been restricted to only the highest levels of the Council.
These deliberations are now concluded.
You have accorded yourself with respect and engendered no malice within your local baseline community. Even going as far as to provide unique opportunities for baseline technology to be used in conjunction with non-baseline needs.
To this effect, we do hereby grant you all the rights, privileges, and protections of a non-baseline citizen. While there is some community resistance to this effect, we shall endeavour to assist your transition into our community.
As the first Seer Baseline to be granted this status, you will be under increased scrutiny. This is for your own protection as well as that of your fellow citizens.
Our official representative, Odarth [which was a kind of hyperlink looking name, which was odd given that this was a scribed document] will deliver this message and act as the primary local representative for the Council. He will provide the relevant details on how to contact him.
At the bottom was a series of signatures that looked so substantial and complex, I was half-surprised that none of those were spells. There was also a very heavy looking wax seal, the likes of which seemed to be so complex that you could keep looking at it and finding more details.
No, there was no doubt as to the authenticity of this document at least.
On habit, I tapped Odarth’s name, strangely, the document shifted a bit to allow for a small picture and description to appear.
Odarth’s species was in fact listed as Gnome and the picture did appear to match the small being still standing outside of my apartment patiently.
Out of curiosity, I tapped the name again, and the description and picture vanished from the scroll. I think I was more surprised by this functionality (although pleasantly surprised) than at finding the gnome at my door.
I looked back at Odarth.
“So you’re my Council representative?” I prompted.
“That’s correct. Although I’m more like an assistant than any kind of political being,” Odarth said in that same deep baritone that seemed completely to not match their size.
“Oh. An ombudsman?” I asked.
“In a manner, yes. Although, I do many things, including collecting taxes,” Odarth said. “Look, may I come in? I believe the formal part of this is over now.”
I eyed him a moment. This was no less unnerving than inviting that one wizard investigator into my apartment, but I decided that it was still in my best interest to play the hand I’m dealt.
“You may.”
The gnome stepped through and I watched the barrier shimmer rather significantly.
“You’ve got spells on you,” I said, matter of factly.
The gnome looked a bit surprised.
“A few, but mostly just utility things, like keeping my feet on the ground and official monitoring. Is that a Seer ability?” Odarth asked.
“No. Not really. Just something I’ve learned,” I admitted only in the smallest truth.
“Hmmm. Well, anyway, I am not in the interest of harming anyone who is in good standing with the community and frankly, I’m given to understand that you are on exceptional terms with the whole building, particularly given your creation of a lycanthrope acoustic dampener,” Odarth said.
“Seriously? That’s what everyone remembers?” I asked a bit incredulously.
“Well, it has earned you a fair bit of credit with the lycanthrope community. And that it can be dynamically tuned to an individual and operated entirely without runes is quite impressive. Although I will say that there are some rune mages who are a bit upset by this development,” Odarth admitted, clambering up a chair.
“Like… want to harm me kind of upset?” I asked.
“No, nothing like that. Just a bit upset that they no longer have a lock on acoustic damping,” the gnome said, setting into sitting on the edge of one of my kitchen chairs.
“This is probably going to sound rude, but I don’t think I ought to offer you any tea, given our… uh… scale differentials,” I managed, after a moment’s thought.
“No offense taken. I am quite accustomed to dealing with scale differentials and while you were not surprised by me, I take it I am likely the first of my kind that you’ve met,” Odarth said in a voice that suggested that they knew they were right, but were saying it for the look of the thing.
“You would not be wrong in that,” I admitted.
The rest of our dialog went fairly smoothly. There were a few things that I would need to fill out for the Council as a new citizen and a few registrations that I’d need to arrange for in order to get the various services through.
“Which of course brings us to taxes,” Odarth began to wrap up.
“I presume you take baseline currency,” I indicated.
“Of course,” Odarth said, rather cheerfully.
“What’s the Wiznet portal for payments?” I prompted.
Odarth blinked for a few long moments.
“I’m not sure I understand,” he looked puzzled.
“Do you only deal with hard currencies or could I simply do an online funds transfer?” I asked, slowing my roll a bit.
“I… I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess I should see about asking the Council to set something up like that,” Odarth seemed a bit half-dazed at the suggestion.
“It shouldn’t be too hard. After all, you have an online marketplace. Surely, you could use the payment portal system behind that. Or even piggyback on a baseline payment portal system,” I suggested.
Odarth nodded, still with a semi-dazed look on his face. I know the look. It's usually the same look that my clients get when I point to a rather obvious solution that will cost them a fraction of the time and effort that a custom solution or the old-fashioned solution costs them.
Odarth left about 10 minutes later, still appearing to be doing figures in his head.
--
Since then, I am apparently both some kind of genius and madman. Hence all the visitors.
Seriously though, at this rate, I may need to look at starting my own technical consulting firm just for dealing with non-baselines. Who knew that being a baseline with high tech baseline ideas or even just a fresh eye could turn into so much?
In any case, I’ll just have to see where it all goes, assuming I don’t get any more spells in the mail. But that’s an entry unto itself.