-=- Ginsu Mage -=-

S1E6: Catalyst

-=- \/\ //\ \/// //// //// // \/ /\/ \\/ \/\ -=-

Navonne blushed and laughed, then began to sparkle with the most beautiful light I had ever seen in my life. She glowed with fascinating psychedelic colours and when she spoke, the sound washed over me like a waterfall, erasing my consciousness.

*/// CATALYST DISCOVERED IN SYSTEM. ACTIVATING RECOVERY MODE ///*

I floated in a dreamlike state, the void around me filled with strange runes swirling like fireflies.

*/// PROCESSING INPUTS. ALIGNING MANA CONDUITS. MERGING REDUNDANCIES. ///*

I watched, detached from reality as words scrolled by on a screen the size of a mountain.

*/// ASSIGNING VARIABLES. ///*

SOURCE:

Kitchen Sink with Hot and Cold tap, Sprayer Attachment, Water Filter, and Garbage disposal

ELEMENTS:

Water, Fire, Lightning, Void

SPELLS:

Purify Water I

Create Water II

Water Jet II

Water Wall I

Void Sphere I

Lightning bolt I

SOURCE:

Butler’s Pantry

ELEMENTS:

Space

SPELLS:

Open Butlers Pantry I

*/// ERROR. Space Occupied. OVERRIDE. ///*

SOURCE:

Analog Kitchen Clock

ELEMENTS:

Time, Lightning

SPELLS:

*/// ERROR ///*

SOURCE:

Refrigerator Freezer with built-in ice maker and water dispenser

ELEMENTS:

Water, Ice, Lightning, Space

SPELLS:

Water Stream I

Cool Area I

Freeze Area I

Create Ice I

Ice Bolt I

Ice Wall I

Lightning Bolt II

SOURCE:

3-speed Reversible Ceiling Fan with LED lights

ELEMENTS:

Air, Lightning, Light

SPELLS:

Create Air I

Breeze I

Wind Wall I

Gale I

Lightning Bolt I

Light II

SOURCE:

Microwave Oven with Digital Timer

ELEMENTS:

Lightning, Light

SPELLS:

Lightning Bolt II

Light III

*/// ERROR. COMPENSATING. ///*

Cook I

Defrost I

Death Ray II

SOURCE:

Cuisinart Blender, 7-speed with Turbo

ELEMENTS:

Lightning, Earth

SPELLS:

Stir I

Chop I

Mix I

Puree I

Liquify I

Crush I

Smoothie I

Turbo I

Lightning Bolt I

SOURCE:

Four Burner Gas Stove with built-in Oven

ELEMENTS:

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Fire, Air

SPELLS:

Heat Area I

Create Air II

Explosive Gas I

Create Fire I

Flames I

Bake I

Broil I

SOURCE:

Toaster oven…

SOURCE:

Electric Kettle…Dishwasher…Washer/Dryer Combo…Dishwashing soap, Bleach, Hand sanitiser, Ammonia, Drain cleaner, Scouring pad, Sponge, Cutlery, Ginsu Knives, Junk Drawer, Flashlight, Old Batteries, Smoke and Carbon Monoxide detector…

SOURCE:

Laptop computer

ELEMENTS:

Earth, Light, Lightning, Spiritual

SPELLS:

*/// ERROR. PROCESS PRIORITY EXCEEDED. WTF IS INTERNET!? COMPENSATING.///*

The list went on and on as everything in my kitchen was measured and weighed then assigned a value and equivalence.

*/// COLLATING… COMPLETE. SPELLFORMS UPDATED. ITEMBOX ASSIGNED. BEGIN PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTE ASSESSMENT… ///*

A screen floated in front of my face and populated with information.

-=- BEGIN STATISTICS -=-

! Networks: (Nigos) Modus 8E

! Plan: Beryl @ 100gk

! Usage: 0/20,160

! Inventory: 0/25lbs

Name: Harold (Harry) William Johnson

Titles: Magister of Logistics, Champion of Nigos

Affiliations: None

Reputation: Good (0)

Experience: 3824 (3824)

Race: Human

Sex: Male

Age: 51 (35)

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Hazel

Height: 5’ 11”

Weight: 190 lbs

Strength: C

Agility: C

Intellect: C

Health: C

Skills: Logistics III

Abilities: Babel I

Mana: 120/hour (1600)

Conditions: None (Normal Ageing)

Prior Conditions: Hypertension (moderate) Fractured vertebra (T3,T4,T5), Broken Collarbone, Osteoarthritis (Knees, Fingers, Spine), Bursitis (mild), Lung Cancer Stage I, Missing Gall Bladder, Mental trauma (moderate), Stomach Ulcer, Erectile Dysfunction (Mild)

-=- END STATISTICS -=-

*/// NEW DATA ADDED TO MODUS. EXPERIENCE GRANTED. RECOVERY MODE COMPLETE. SAY “Open Status Menu” TO ACCESS SYSTEM. ///*

Wait… What!? Erectile Dysfunction?

Icons floated across my vision as everything was assigned and scattered in an apparent random fashion. My consciousness revved up and I emerged from the dream-like state with a head stuffed full to overflowing. Rousing in a drunken stupor, I rolled to the side of the bed and vomited rainbows all over the floor.

Someone jumped up from a chair as my vomit splattered on their feet and held a bucket under my face. Several heaves later, I asked for water.

Navonne eased a glass to my lips and I sucked down the liquid in greedy gulps. Rinsing and spitting into the bucket, I sat up with her assistance and waited for everything to stop spinning.

“How long?” I croaked, my throat raw from vomiting.

“All night,” she replied, her accent thrilling my ears. Did she always have an accent? It was exotic and lovely.

“You have a beautiful voice,” I slurred, smiling up at her.

“And you are mana drunk,” she sighed. “Some food will help.”

Food was the last thing on my mind and the thought was enough to send me dry heaving into the bucket again. But soon enough food appeared and the aroma caused my stomach to rumble. Before I knew it, I found myself seated across from her devouring breakfast. Two plates later, I pushed back and gulped down a glass of the tart red juice I had the day before.

“Omigawd, best breakfast ever,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “What’s this red stuff?”

“Acadi juice. It’s a fruit local to the area.”

“It’s good stuff. Kinda like orange juice and mango juice mixed together, sweet and a bit tart.”

Sunlight cut through a slit in the heavy drapes, brightly illuminating a section of the thick carpet on the floor. I stared at the tiny motes dancing in the golden beam for a moment, lost in thought.

“A kupon for your thoughts,” Navonne said.

Slipping back to reality at the sound of her voice, I asked “What’s a kupon?”

“A small coin. What are you thinking about?”

“The strange dream I had. It was like someone was in my head, adjusting things.”

She nodded. “The Modus. It must have recognised your mana source and integrated you. Say “Open Status Menu”, but don’t be alarmed. You’ll see a vision that describes how the Modus sees you.”

I spoke the words from my dream and the statistics display appeared before me just like a screen from a video game.

“I’ve got a ‘C’ in everything,” I complained.

Navonne leaned over the table and pointed a finger in my face. “The Modus is not who you are. Do not judge yourself or allow yourself to be judged by its measurements.”

Drawing back from the suddenly serious princess, I nodded. “I understand. We are more than what others can see.”

She smiled brightly at my words. “Exactly! The Modus scores are based on metrics the Founders established. We are not numbers!”

I noticed a button at the bottom that said “Advanced Mode” and pushed the incorporeal button with my finger.

“What are you doing?” Navonne asked.

“Toggling advanced mode,” I said, looking at the new screen and the dozens of options.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she frowned. “What do you see?”

“Lots of stuff,” I replied, describing what I was seeing as I tabbed through it. “On the Physical tab there’s a figure of me and all my organs showing their health, my pulse, blood pressure, and lots of other stuff I’m not familiar with. Is a cholesterol level of 110 good? I have no idea. There’s an Inventory tab that shows everything I’m wearing, which seems kind of pointless, and a long list of available items - like my Ginsu knives.” I concentrated on my favourite knife in the list, the 12” carving knife, and my palm tingled. A moment later, the knife appeared in my hand.

“Sweet!” I yelled, brandishing my knife like an excited kid. I loved these knives. Yeah, they were over-hyped, but they were damn good. Guaranteed for 50 years, unbreakable, eternally sharp. I don’t know how they work, nor do I care, they’re damn fine knives.

“You have an inventory box!” Navonne exclaimed, delighted at my discovery. “How big is it?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted, trying to make the knife vanish back into inventory. It vanished with a tingle. “Um, 25 pounds. Is that a lot?”

Navonne shook her head. “No, quite basic. It costs mana to store and retrieve items from inventory, so use it sparingly.”

A button at the top of the Inventory tab caught my eye. “Open Butler’s Pantry”

After Janie and I divorced I bought another house, an ancient relic from the beginning of the previous century and began renovation. One of the things I loved most about it was the beautiful kitchen which included a butler’s pantry, basically a large walk-in pantry.

I mentally pressed the button and a reticule appeared before my eyes. The reticule went green when I looked at the wall, so I mentally selected it and a familiar red wooden door appeared.

“My pantry!”

I knocked over the chair in my haste to open the door. Inside was a room I was intimately familiar with. Five foot by seven foot and ten foot tall, shelves filled with food on the right wall, a granite counter running halfway down the left, and boxes of miscellaneous paraphernalia stowed in the empty space along that wall. The liquor cabinet on the back wall was fully stocked and all my wine still secure.

Navonne crowded behind me, peering inside. “You have a Mortmain,” she whispered in awe.

“What’s a mortmain?”

“This,” she whispered, excitement tinging her voice. “This space between spaces. It is yours and yours alone, sacred and inviolable. Anything you put in here goes into your Inventory.

I stepped inside and looked around. All my appliances were missing and some strange gear left in their place. Mortar and pestle, a stack of boards with cabalistic symbols on them, various beakers and flasks straight out of a Frankenstein movie. I tested the sink and the taps poured both hot and cold water, which fascinated Navonne.

Pulling open the cabinets, I discovered all my plates and glasses, cook books, mixology books, and other literature related to the kitchen arts I had pursued. The mini fridge under the counter was inscribed with glyphs, but was cold and stocked with Pepsi, Reed’s extra ginger brew, and apple cider. The drawers revealed familiar items as well; bits of wire, various small tools, screws and bolts, old charging cables. My emergency flashlights were transformed into thick wands that produced light, and the fire extinguisher was covered with strange glowing runes. I had an almost overpowering urge to try it out. The hoover was an evil, gnarled staff lurking in the corner. I was afraid to approach it.

Navonne watched me examine everything, asking the occasional question, and listening intently to my explanations.

In the back left corner was the breaker box for the house. I pulled it open to reveal two dozen crystals set in complex diagram.

“Any idea what this is?” I asked.

“None. Maybe vizier Demandrope would know,” she said, then continued. “But I do know the value of those mana stones would buy you a small estate.”

I closed the breaker box, then moved to the back wall. I had been slowly renovating the house for several years, it was part hobby and part money-pit, something to keep my mind and hands occupied now that the kids had grown. Honestly, the house was a bit too large for me, a three bedroom, two bath, Victorian farmhouse on five rural acres. It took over an hour to drive to work, but I didn’t care. I was supposed to retire soon anyway.

There was a small board screwed against the back wall. Grabbing a screwdriver from one of the drawers, I began unscrewing it. In the real world, I could peer through a fist-sized hole into the garage. Removing the thin board I peered through the hole.

Glowing spiderwebs filled an endless technicolour void. The webs vibrated as something unseen moved along them.

I screwed the board back into place.

Manoeuvring around the curious princess, I opened the liquor cabinet and poured out two fingers of scotch, downed it and poured another.

“It’s full of spiders.” I said in response to Navonne’s unasked question. “Let’s go.”

The door vanished behind us as we exited.

Setting my chair back upright, I dropped into it with a heavy sigh. “It was almost home,” I said, examining the strange emotion running through me. Something like homesickness? Whatever. I summoned the bottle of scotch from my inventory and plonked it on the table. Two rocks glasses appeared a moment later and I poured a drink for me and the princess.

“Twenty-one year old single malt. Try it. Roll a small amount gently in your mouth for a minute before swallowing.”

“You do realise that it’s before noon, Magister Johnson?” She said, eyeing the tumbler of amber liquid.

“I am not familiar with your culture, nor at this moment do I care. Drink.” I said, pointing at the glass. “You can tutor me on the finer points after this glass.”

She brought the tumbler to her nose and sniffed. “It smells like Dwarven spirits,” she murmured, taking a sip. Rolling the liquor around in her mouth for a moment, she swallowed then exhaled. “Hiras! It’s strong stuff!”

“It’s good stuff,” I responded, sipping my own glass and watching her take another swallow. “I have a million questions, princess. Care to answer them?”

“If I can,” she replied, finishing off the glass and hesitating, then holding it out for more.

I poured another finger in her glass. “I assume you stayed by my bedside all night. Why?”

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