Bob followed his Nav screen back to the request board. As soon as he touched the pane, he received a prompt asking him to turn in his requests, which he accepted. He received some experience and 270 credits for the three requests he’d completed. He then returned to the Player Arrival Area, reading the WIK as he walked, figuring out what was needed to do repairs on his damaged turret and shield. The process seemed to be fairly simple, he just had to activate his field repair kit with his link, provide raw materials, and apply the micro-bot repair paste to the damaged areas. If he were working with customized equipment it would be more involved, but Basic Industries included proper repair schema with all their equipment. Quite simple, really. Even simpler and more efficient if he could find a crafting workstation.

Before finding a space to sit and work, he first went to the quest NPC to report he had completed three requests from the request board. He received another 100 credits and more bonus experience, which triggered another level up.

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“Good job on completing those three requests! Here in Servo City, most requests will be fairly simple, and have you working against mutants or rogue drones, as this is a relatively low crime city, thanks to Basic Industries being headquartered here, providing widespread employment and a sizable security force amongst many other services to the city. However, in some areas, you will see an abundance of requests involving dealing with local criminal elements.

“The next quest that I have for you is to visit the Player Creation Center, where players may engage in various crafts and trade skills to create and customize equipment. Once you are there, speak to at least one of the Specialty Overseers to receive a run down of the basics of their specialty.”

Bob received the quest log chime as the rest of the world faded in. “Well, I suppose that is convenient enough,” he mumbled to himself as he pulled up the Nav screen. The Player Creation Center was located about five blocks away. Bob left the building filled with brand new players and headed for the quest destination.

The daylight was beginning to fade, and the city around Bob began to light up. Evenly spaced lights provided illumination to the roads. Gaudy signs made of bright and clashing colors fought for attention, marking the presence of various establishments, many of which emanated faint rhythmic strains of sound. There were far more NPCs on the street than he’d seen earlier. Aside from the glaring physical tells that marked most players, he could tell because most of these NPCs seemed to be carrying around little rectangular device like the gear vendor woman and very few seemed to be wearing any sort of armor, just clothing — most of which was shiny, shimmery, or just boldly colorful.

There were probably many other traits which set the humans apart, but Bob could only just tell a beast-kin from a human. To him, the mortal races all looked more or less alike. He had interacted with them enough to be able to pick up on their common facial expressions, but all those faces looked virtually identical to him. That he could tell players apart from NPCs by physical characteristics alone was telling of just how bad the players were at crafting a human guise. Although, it might have been exacerbated by his new stature.

The sights and sounds of the city were truly novel. When Kragathor had freely roamed the world, the cities of the world had nothing that could compare to this. This city even smelled better. It had a mild, unpleasant smell not too different from a roiling pit of tar, accompanied by a faint hint of ozone. It was preferable to the stench of waste flowing in muddy streets and masses of unwashed bodies that hung cloyingly over the cities he’d seen in his own world.

Upon reaching the Player Creation Center, he went in and looked around. From the exterior, the building was much like the Player Arrival Area, a large, drab colored warehouse. Inside, however, it was vastly different. Bob found himself in a small room, with a door to the left, a door to the right, and a corridor straight ahead. They were labeled ‘Biological,’ ‘Electromechanical,’ and ‘Integrated,’ respectively. The doors to the left and right were rather fancy, made of flawless crystal and framed in steel. They each led to a small chamber with an identical door on the other side. In front of either door and next to the corridor stood three NPCs, with the emotionless, far off gaze that indicated quest NPCs. Of those three, only the one standing by the corridor labeled ‘Integrated’ stood out. He was nearly as tall and bulky as most players, but parts of his skin seemed to have been replaced with metal, and one of his arms was completely made of the stuff.

He approached the distinctly different one first, and his surroundings transitioned into the tell-tale blur of a quest NPC. “Greetings, Traveler. Welcome to the Player Creation Center, the centralized crafting and customization location for Servo City. The Player Creation Center is divided into three sections: Biological, Electromechanical, and Integrated. The Biological section is for creating items that make use of organic biotechnology such as medicines, gene spliced bio-drones, physical augmentations and more. The electromechanical section is for all inorganic crafting and customization, such as turrets, drones, links, weapons, exo-armor, and more. The Integrated section is where flesh meets machine, with facilities for integrating mechanical augmentations into organic subjects, or integrating organic components into mechanical devices.

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“Since this is your first time here, Traveler, if your class utilizes living things, proceed to the Biological section. Otherwise, proceed to the Electromechanical section. When you are done with checking out the Player Creation Center, please return to the Player Arrival Area.”

The world came back into focus, and Bob got another quest update chime. He moved over to speak with the quest NPC next to the Electromechanical section. “Welcome, Traveler, to the Electromechanical section of the Player Creation Center. Through this airlock is the clean-room environment that we use for crafting electromechanical and other inorganic technology. The majority of the crafting you do here will require schematics, both for parts as well as final assembly. You can either purchase or find schematics, or try your hand at designing or modifying them on your own. You can also perform repairs here with better results than using a field repair kit, or break down unneeded items or components into base materials.

“To craft an item, go to an appropriately sized workbench, touch it and say ‘Craft.’ You will be prompted to choose a schematic, which will load the necessary data into the industrial part printers and assembly bays. To repair an item, place the damaged item on a workbench, touch the surface, and say ‘Repair.’ To break down an item, touch the workbench and say ‘Recycling.’ You will be prompted to select items from your inventory to be recycled. Crafting and repairing will automatically deduct the necessary materials from your inventory. If you do not have enough, it will purchase them automatically on your behalf at the going market rate, plus point five percent.

“All workbench use is charged to you at a rate of 20 credits per hour. The amount will be deducted from your account automatically.”

The world came back into focus, and Bob stepped up to the door. It whisked open with a hiss. He stepped inside the small, brightly lit chamber, and the door behind him hissed shut. The room around him was plain white, with paneled walls and the floor and ceiling consisting of a white grate. A distant whirring sound rose in pitch and was overtaken by the roar of rushing air. Wind buffeted Bob from beneath and was sucked away through the grate above. The blast of air ended as suddenly as it had begun. The door ahead slid open. Bob stepped through, and found himself in a vast workshop. Workbenches of varying sizes were laid out in a grid pattern, with truly massive stations along the far wall. To the right were a number of small stations labeled ‘Schematic Station.’ There were about a dozen players in the room, scattered amongst the various workstations. Bob approached an unoccupied station, touched the surface and said “Recycle.”

His inventory window popped up, and he selected the various stacks of drone components. Once he confirmed that he wished to break the items down, they disappeared from his inventory, and the workbench began to hum. About a minute later, he received a notification that he had received polymers, copper, iron, silicates, silver, gold and ceramics in various quantities. Surprisingly, they only took up a single spot in inventory, labeled ‘Raw Materials.’

Bob hurriedly opened his status and tossed another point into his Repair skill, unsure if it would have an effect on the machinery he was using, but hoping it would. Next he set the damaged Basic Portable Shield on the surface, and said “Repair.”

Clear walls rose from the table’s surface to surround the device, while three pairs of spindly metallic arms rose from behind the table. With blisteringly fast speed and uncanny precision, the six mechanical limbs disassembled the device, extracted the damaged plates, and replaced them with new ones, while one arm added more of the grayish black goop to a reservoir in the base. Then, as quickly as they tore it down, they reassembled it. He received a notice that he had been charged 3 credits for replacement materials.

Bob repeated the process with his damaged turret, though this repair took much longer. The mother drone’s weapon had obliterated the turret’s internal workings, as could be seen from the way the fragments came falling out once the armored carapace of the turret was opened. The six mechanical arms quickly disposed of and recycled all the broken or damaged pieces, and replaced them with freshly printed parts. Whatever principles the turret’s technology operated on, Bob would definitely not glean it from watching this repair process. He might eventually be able to assemble one from its component pieces, but what each individual component did would likely still a mystery to him for some time yet.

Out of curiosity, Bob decided to test an ancient magic version of his Analysis spell, to better understand what was going on. He quietly recited the incantation in its original tongue, as recorded by the great Atronarch scholars of the Elemental Era, “Eht rhkou, juumer thonthofaw Gau!”

Nothing happened. Bob sighed. Of course it wouldn’t work. His curiosity would have to be sated through good old fashioned research. He really had grown intellectually lazy in the indolence of the last couple of centuries, and this world seemed determined to break him of that habit. At least it was rather convenient to do research here.

After ten minutes, he finally received notification that the repair was done, and he had been charged 7 credits for materials. As soon as he moved to turn away, another notification flashed, indicating 10 credits had been deducted for a half hour block of workbench time.