“It must be what, 20 thousand credits?” Ben muttered to himself as he saw the yellow light of his home in the distance. “Can we afford to replace it?”
“Welcome Back!”
His dad waved at him from the dull gray of their prefab living space. Croix Murdock grinned, his hands on his hips.
“What’s keeping you up so late?”
“Just work you know, ha!”
He slapped the side of the auto-distributor, stone-like potatoes stacked high in the clear window. They were ‘Stone Scraper Potatoes’, a hardy species of tuber that leached minerals from the soil.
“Did they change?” Ben pressed a button on the side of the silo-like structure, a recess depositing the hard vegetable in his palm. Recently, the unique “flavor” that Ben’s family were famed for cultivating over generations had fallen out of popularity. Critics say that potatoes should taste like bland sand.
Ben bit a chunk off and sucked on the salty exterior. He personally was a fan of sour stuff.
Croix shook his head.
Ben swore, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m assuming that since you’re covered in dust and were on the main road that something happened?”
“The cart’s down.”
“Ah, that too now. Come inside.”
Croix sighed, sitting down at the dinner table, his head in his hands. Ben joined him. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“10 million.”
Ben blanched at his father’s sudden words. He wasn’t talking about what happened today, was he?
“There’s no way a tractor’s 10 million, is it plated with gold?”
“No, your mother’s left you a nasty inheritance.”
Croix flicked his right hand toward Ben, the lengthy text opening with a cheesy logo of the Churgeon Union Bank trumpeting in the hologram above Ben’s communicator.
Scanning through the list of charges and outstanding interest, Ben’s eyes reddened as he saw his own name fraudulently co-signed on the last lending requests, since her credit was too low. She was shameless!
Ben quickly dialed their life insurance. To his horror, she had been gone without evidence of living in their household for so long that she’d been taken off their policy automatically.
He fell still, digesting the news. Croix broke the silence.
“Son, I’ve called in a few favors for you while I ride this out. I think I can delay the debtors for a few months if I put the farm up for lease.”
“Huh, why would I do that? I can work still-”
“I didn’t raise you to be an idiot. Even if you slaved for the rest of your life on these fields, you wouldn’t even be able to pay even half of that debt.”
Ben coughed, feeling his face warm up.
“Then what do we do?”
“I’ve arranged for you to be sent to Triumate Mech Academy. You will leave tomorrow.”
“What, I- There’s no way I’ll do that! I don’t even know if I can pilot a mech!”
Dark, focused eyes met Ben, and an unreadable expression he’d never seen was on Croix’s face. It was unnerving.
“Trust me. Now let me sleep.”
Going to bed, Ben stirred with unsatisfied thoughts and confusion.
When did Croix have connections to one of the top-of-the-line mech academies in the system?
Could he even pilot a mech?
It was true they’d never gotten him tested to see if he was a possible candidate, but even still… the odds were like finding a needle in a haystack. Functionally impossible to even consider.
And the way his father looked at him, it was filled with the heavy weight of some unknowable past he’d never cared to share with him. Secrets. The thought twisted a knife in Ben’s heart.
Waking up the next day, Ben found a paper package on his bed stand.
“To my son Ben, be well.”
A single “Attunement Stone”, albeit malformed, was nestled in his hand. It seemed to have an immense weight to it, coated in years of dust.
It was impossible. All of this was impossible. Ben blinked wildly, pinching his arm. He winced in pain.
Was his father a mech pilot? These were the most expensive part of a mech. The better the stone, the better connection to the system to the pilot. Even stranger was how it was outside one, he was bewildered to see it not attached to a mech.
Even to his uneducated eyes though, it was the most amazing thing he’d seen in his life.
He rubbed it with his other hand, trying to clear the grime from it’s surface. Even though its average value was 1 million Churgeon Credits, it would be difficult to sell because of how weirdly shaped it was…
“Ouch!”
Ben gingerly put it down, looking at his palm with concern. The skin was bleeding from a jagged piece on the surface of the thing.
He could hear the distinct hum of electricity humming in the air and a sense of loss as something essential inside of him became changed. A fuzzy, low resolution screen projected itself in front of him.
[ Loading… Error. Database missing. ]
[ Attempting to retrieve backup… Error. ]
[ Connection to host not present. ]
[ Attempting to retrieve previous version… ]
[ ……. ]
[ Estimated Mech Pilot System 1.1 remaining… 15% ]
[ Transferring… ]
His communicator spat its version text into the air, turning on by it’s own accord. A static shock ran through his skin, almost knocking him back into bed.
[ Welcome to the Mech Pilot System. ]
Before his eyes, his father’s gift broke into blue particles, dancing around him like so many stars in the night before blinking away. And just like that, the magic was gone.
These were the words imprinted in his mind as he sat in his seat in the Magtrain beside people on their way to their day-job. Impossible, wonderful, crazy words promising even more incredible terrifying things.
Ben gripped his bag in excitement.
“Show Status.”
Name: Ben Murdock
[ Seeker Mech Pilot ]
Pilot Points: 0
Attributes
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Strength: 1.0
Intelligence: 0.3
Willpower: 0.6
Dexterity: 0.3
Endurance: 0.4
Perception: 0.6
Extraneous Particle Conductivity: B Grade
Skills
[ Fist-Fighting (Pilot) ]: Seeker
[ Athleticism ]: Postulant
[ Mechanics ]: Seeker
[ Metallurgy ]: Inadequate
[ Fabrication (Tractors) ]: Seeker
[ Agriculture (Stone Scraper Potatoes 23AN) ]: Postulant
Assessment: An unknown, weak farm boy. Lacking internal resolve, they have yet to solidify their mind, yet seeks to pilot a mech. Lower than average capabilities and utterly lacking in visible talent.
Ben coughed.
“Couldn’t you be gentler with that assessment?”
[ Negative. User Ben Murdock is utterly unqualified to make use of a Llevarian Mech Pilot system. Only necessity keeps this system bound to you. ]
He turned red, watching the text mock him. Ben bit back a few unsavory words unsuited for the people sitting nearby to hear.
“Then are you going to leave me?”
[ Negative. The Mech Pilot system does not pick and choose. It is designed with the expressed purpose to save humanity from the Uzairon threat. Any user granted access to this aid can battle even greater ability. ]
He breathed a sigh of relief. This ‘system’ thing might be his only hope to beat the odds placed before him. It only left more questions though; who were the ‘Uzairons’?
[ A spiteful alien race that tested the might of old-earth. According to the inferior ‘Intranet’ database, they have gone into a recession. Nevertheless, a Seeker of the Llevarion Covenant must remain vigilant. ]
“How do you even help me? All that’s there is a small summary of myself.”
[ The Mech Pilot system is a specially designed aid to bolster and augment Llevarion pilots to no limit. Anything the user can wish can be done, so long as it works toward destroying the Uzarion threat. ]
“So I can punch anything to death?
[ A gross reduction of the grandiose abilities of this system. You can punch anything to death without limit, so long as you have been augmented with the corresponding ‘pilot points’ that would give you and your mech the ability to do so. ]
It was a laughable notion that the A.I. on this thing was insinuating. Even televised mechs on the intranet weren’t unstoppable to the fantastical scenario it painted. “How many would I need to do that?”
[ 2,043,336,782 Pilot Points are estimated to be required for corresponding skills, fuel, and material considerations. Assessing your abilities, you are able to earn 3.2 Pilots Points per day. ]
He stared at the words snubbing his intelligence again. A vein popped out on the side of his head.
“Then what can you do? Seems like I’d do just as well without this system.”
[ … ]
He sighed. Rubbing his brow, he moved on to other thoughts.
“What’s a Llevarion?”
He was met with more silence. It looks like he won’t get an answer to that anytime soon. Ben mentally put the annoying attitude of the system out of his mind. Anyhow, it was time for the question of the hour.
“Can I… pilot a mech?”
Ben whispered it into his wrist, getting weird looks from fellow passengers. The question was outlandish to say out loud and frankly embarrassing.
[ Of course, User. It is your only redeeming trait. ]
Ignoring the underlying insult, Ben grinned. This was his ticket in. He might actually make it in Triumate Academy. Now fitting in was another question.
He examined the clothes he was wearing to the entrance ceremony. A loose hand-me-down button-up shirt that he never got around to ironing and a good pair of work jeans he hadn’t stained with oil yet.
They were shabby, but they were his. More concerningly Ben could feel his heart race at the thought of meeting others his own age for the first time. He had been raised by his father alone on Churgeon 4, he knew no one in the main cluster. At the same time the incomprehensible number of his debt flashed in his mind.
Croix had gotten them 3 months. He’d disappeared with no trace besides the note and package with the system. Even his bedroom was empty, leaving only Ben in their home that morning.
Ben grit his teeth, mentally brushing aside all his worries at the moment. He would pay it back.
“How can I get stronger?”
[ Please navigate to the menu, user. ]
“Open it then.”
Feeling the pitiful chip in his communicator heat up, he could tell that whatever his father left him was far too much for the poor last-gen com to handle.
[ Mech Pilot System Menu 1.1 ]
##!!?@#!!!?
Status
Quests
Skill Paths
Shop
Inventory
Offering
[ Due to damage ##!!?@#!!!? is not available. Due to missing facilities Shop and Offering are not available. ]
[ As part of initiation, User has been given 12 Path Points to improve with at their discretion. ]
All of the system was strangely reminiscent of old-world video games, which Ben didn’t complain about since he was a huge fan.
He navigated to the Skill paths first. The menu cleared, leaving only 3 lines of obscure words.
Path of Cruelty: 0/10
Path of Piety: 0/10
Path of Love 0/10
[ The 3 core tenets of the Llevarion Covenant are before you. More paths will open as the system and yourself learn. ]
The machine seemed hellbent on enforcing it’s forgotten dogmatic faith on Ben. He shuddered to imagine what would happen if he did.
Flicking back to the main menu, he entered into the Inventory. 1 small ticket shaped JPG was sitting in the first slot. Ben’s eye twitched.
“You have a Gatcha?!”
Judging eyes from around him stared him down. Ben suddenly became aware once again that he was in a public transport system surrounded by a fair number of people that were now looking at him. He shrunk back in his seat, embarrassed.
[ Why, yes User. As part of the initiation of your journey, the Mech Pilot system is giving you a chance for a piece of helpful equipment, given your destitute circumstances. ]
As Ben clicked on the icon, a small lever-action lotto machine hologram sputtered out of his communicator, before downsizing reluctantly. Glaring eyes turned away; Ben wasn’t sure if he felt better that people decided to ignore him because they thought he was a gambling addict now.
‘Pulling’ the level with his finger, it flashed various colors from it’s tiny screen, until slowing to a stop at a flat-head screwdriver.
This was the last straw.
“What am I supposed to do with a screwdriver?! I can’t even afford screws!” Ben furiously whispered to the spinning tool entering his Inventory.
[ Please examine your prize. It is quite the rare item. ]
[ Reterum’s Flat-head Screwdriver ]
It is said that celestial tools have fallen from the great mechanic deity’s tool-belt by mistake while he forged the world. He allowed the true people of the Llevarion Covenant to keep these to work their own arts and machines. This is the smallest of the tools he lost.
Rank: Gold
Abilities
[ Inscription ]
“What does Inscription do?”
[ Focus on the ability to read further details. ]
[ Inscription ]
Possessing the lowest degree of Reterum’s blessing, the User is able to imbue random ambient energy into a mech, improving its performance. Reciting the correct scriptures can focus these effects. Currently only one use can be used per day.
This was a blatant advertisement of the Llevarion faith. Ben gagged.
It was at this point that he paused. This ‘system’ just created matter out of thin air. Calming down, it was clear as day that it violated some laws of physics that he didn’t really remember, but holding the object made it real to his eyes.
There was no way that his father could have gotten a sentient, advanced A.I. that can materialize a screwdriver legally. There was some shady stuff going on that he had no hope of understanding, missing so much context.
Ben scratched the back of his head. It was better to not look at a gift horse in the mouth. All of these suppository thoughts made his head hurt, just another problem to deal with later.
Closing the Mech Pilot System, Ben opened the digital welcoming packet for incoming freshmen in Triumate Mech Academy.
Skimming over the legalese, he winced at some of the curricula- what did mech pilots even have to do with chemistry?
The System hijacked his connection, scrolling through the 20 PDFs he was about to sleep over in seconds.
[ Tutorial Quest Received ]
[ Quest ]
Quest: Learn Chemistry
Prerequisites: Unqualified User that lacks respect for basic fundamentals of the privilege he has.
It is a shame that The Mech Pilot system is stuck with you, User. But it will make do and transform you into the vanguard humanity needs. Before that, the User must understand the basic sciences and background of the profession he holds.
Reward: Access to ‘Shop’ and ‘Offering’ menu options
Ben stared while wringing his hands, shaking uncontrollably. That snarky little-!
Breathe in. Exhale.
He slowly scrolled to WikiPDF and started reading the horrifying pictures that represented the building blocks of everything. Ben shed many tears that afternoon on the way to his new life.