It has often been said that the journey is of greater importance than the destination. From this, we may deduce the following corollary: progression is, in and of itself, a virtue.

—First Sender, Records of the Tower Strive

(Strive 1:2)

Hilbert held his arm up, and I noticed for the first time that he was wearing a bracelet like the ones he'd given us, only transparent. “Since you’re both from the modern era, this will be simpler to explain. Think of this kada bracelet as a wearable computer and input device. It detects gestures via nerve impulses and translates them into actions. Your udjat”—here he pulled down his lower eyelid, and I saw that he had a lens in as well—“functions as the output.”

“I may be from the modern era, but I’m still a raccoon,” said El Bandito, whose name I’d begun shortening to El in my head. “How about again, without the science mumbo-jumbo?”

Hilbert sighed. “Maybe an example would be helpful.” His fingers moved, and the bracelet on his wrist glowed white. His right eye flared briefly as well, and suddenly he was holding a fluffy bathrobe. He tried to hand it to me, but I was staring dumbfounded.

“How’d you do that?”

Hilbert smiled benignly. “Let’s teach you two your first kada commands, shall we? Hold this bathrobe for a moment, and ball your kada hand into a fist.”

I did so, and the letter S wrote itself in light on my stone bracelet.

“Now, place your thumb between your index and middle fingers.”

As I followed his instruction, a glowing T joined the S. Both letters pulsed, then replaced themselves with the full word Stow Item, wrapped around the bracelet in a hovering circlet of text.

With a flash of light, the bathrobe vanished from my hand. I gaped at the bracelet, which had reverted to dull gray stone and felt slightly warm.

“Well done. Your bracelets are both configured to read the American Sign Language fingerspelling alphabet. That command you just used allows you to store items in your inventories.” Hilbert raised his hand. “Now copy me.”

Each time I formed my right hand into a shape, the corresponding letter illuminated on my bracelet. I saw the characters I-N appear, then pulse and replace themselves with the full word Inventory.

Immediately, a transparent window labeled Inventory appeared in my contact lens, overlaid on my field of vision. It was filled with empty squares, except for two: the bathrobe and a familiar pellet gun.

I gasped. “My air rifle! It carried over?”

“Indeed,” said Hilbert.

I chewed on it for a minute. “How about my savings account? My 401k?”

“Unfortunately not. Just the rifle, since you had it with you when you… you know. Anyway, you can sign X to close the window, like so.”

The rest was empty anyway, so I curled my finger to dismiss the overlay. El was still struggling to form a fist with her non-opposable thumbs, and I felt a slight tickle of human superiority.

“Maybe try both hands,” I suggested.

“Maybe try fucking off,” she grumbled. “Smug asshole.”

“I do apologize,” said Hilbert. “This system is more analog than some others. The physicality of it provides a more grounded experience.”

“Fuck your grounded experience,” said El, but she used her left paw to guide her right, and her eye and bracelet flashed white. “Whoopee. It works.”

My mind had been racing for a while. “Do we pick our classes now? Specializations?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Ah!” Hilbert smiled broadly. “Genre-savvy, are we? You’re thinking of becoming a [Demolitionist] or perhaps an [Innkeeper]?”

“I was actually thinking something more basic, like a warrior or mage.” I furrowed my brow. “How did you do that with your voice?”

“Do what?”

“Demolitionist. Demolitionist. Innkeeper.” I tried different inflections.

“InNkEePer,” said El.

“Yes,” said Hilbert. “[Innkeeper].”

“Weird,” I said.

“I want to be a thief,” announced El.

“Aren’t thieves supposed to be stealthy?” I asked dubiously. “Your loud ass woke me up every single night.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She cracked open another peanut. “I’m as quiet as the night. I garb myself in the embrace of shadows.”

“How about you garb yourself in some actual clothes, now that you’re sentient and all?”

Hilbert cleared his throat. “To answer your original question, you do actually get to select something akin to a class today.” He stepped toward the side of the room, fine boots clacking on the tile. “If you'll both proceed this way.”

We followed him down a corridor decorated with gilded sconces and mahogany trim. He stopped under a crystal chandelier, indicating a handsome wooden door, and we entered.

At first, the room reminded me of a wine cellar with its subdued lighting and the dozens of recesses in the wall. Each was about the size of my hand, and they were all empty, as if waiting for something.

“Try placing your kada hand into a slot,” suggested Hilbert. “Any will do.”

With some trepidation, I submerged my right hand wrist-deep in the nearest one, and my display came alive.

Aspect of Plantera

This aspect is the basis of botanical spells, spells of vegetation, and spells of life. It provides a passive bonus to nearby plant growth.

You currently have 0/2 basic slots filled.

Accept this aspect (Y/N)?

“Underrated,” commented Hilbert. “People never seem to realize how terrifying a ten-foot-tall Venus flytrap can be.”

I took a deep breath of ancient-smelling air. “This whole room is magic? We get to learn magic?”

Hilbert grinned. “Eases the sting a bit, does it not?”

“I’ll say.” I ran a hand across the wall in awe. So many options.

Hilbert spread his arms wide. “It’s my pleasure to welcome you to the Room of First Principles. You may select one aspect here, which will grant you passive effects, as well as continuous unlocking of spells via your kada bracelet.”

A million questions bubbling inside me finally breached the surface. “What is this all for? Why all of this in the first place? And you mentioned a name, the Tower Strive?”

“Yes,” Hilbert said. “Great questions all. But we should sit down for this discussion. It might take a while.”

My stomach rumbled. “Actually, before we do that… you guys got a restroom nearby?”

Hilbert graciously pointed me to a door down the hall. It was single occupancy, but just as opulent as the rest of the place, all dark jewel tones and brass finishes. There was a toilet, spotless of course, as well as a litter box set unobtrusively in one corner. Considerate of them to provide that, I thought, although I wasn't sure El would know how to (or decide to) use it. As I sat, I found my emotions surprisingly calm, with a growing undercurrent of fear or excitement. I wasn’t sure which one.

I was deep in thought when I felt a splash of cool water, and then the horrible feeling of something wet against me. Something slimy. A burning sensation.

I swore and jumped upright. From the depths of the toilet on which I'd been sitting, a mass of green goop was sending up an inquisitive arm. I felt my rear with my hand, and it was tender. There was a patch of skin burned away where I'd felt the slime touch me. I thought about going out to fetch Hilbert, but something told me that I should deal with the situation myself. It might've been simple pride, but it seemed improper to involve another man in my bathroom affairs.

There was a fancy-looking plunger underneath the sink, and I grabbed it. Better to not touch the acidic toilet slime with my bare hands if I could help it.

The slime was still emerging from the drain, so I mashed the plunger into it and pressed down. Every thrust brought a disturbing sucking noise from the slime. It compressed, stretched, and executed all kinds of topologically unlikely transformations. But it refused to reenter the bowels of the toilet. In fact, my assault only seemed to make it more determined. The goop began to work its way up the plunger handle.

I looked around. There was a closet I hadn't noticed earlier, right by the litter box. Did I dare to relinquish my grip on the toilet slime for a second? I had no choice. I waddled over with my boxers still around my ankles and flung it open.

It was just what I was looking for. A chemical closet, with all the usual suspects: toilet bowl cleaner, Windex, bleach, ammonia. I grabbed the last two. Unscrewing the cap on the bleach, I lobbed the whole jug at the slime. The container spun through the air, spraying liquid, and landed a direct hit. I held my breath for a long moment as it was slowly absorbed.

The slime stiffened into a hard lacquer-like substance and sent out spikes. It seemed to be trying to build a protective shell around itself. But it was too late. The bleach had already begun to damage whatever innards it had.

It collapsed back into the toilet with a splash, and I sighed in relief. Ammonia would’ve gotten it for sure, but the off-gassing might’ve done me in too. I'd seen that combo send people to the emergency room.

Picking up the plunger, I forced the limp slime down the drain. It waggled at me weakly, sank below the waterline, and then, finally, disappeared. I gave the toilet a triumphant flush.

When I had concluded my business, I staggered back into the wine cellar room. El and the bartender turned to look at me, and I realized I was still holding the fancy plunger.

"Trying out a new career path?" asked El.

I spun it in my hand and forced a smile. "You know, Mario was a plumber too.”