[>1<] The Book of a Transient Virologist

Six-year-old David sat in the sandbox, carefully arranging colorful glass pebbles. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the playground as his mother watched from a nearby bench with a tattered book in her hands.

"Look mommy!" David called out excitedly. "I made a dragon!"

Rachel Walter looked up from her Crystallography book, her tired eyes focusing on the arrangement of stones. To most people, it would have appeared random, but she saw something in the way the pebbles caught the light, in how the shadows fell between them.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, setting the book on her lap. "I see it! The way the light plays across the stones... It’s very… pretty, David."

David beamed at his mother's approval. "She changes colors when the sun moves," he explained earnestly. "See? Now her scales are purple!"

Rachel got off the bench and knelt beside the sandbox, her eyes tracking the subtle shifts of light and shadow. "You have a gift, David," she said softly. "You can see the patterns that others miss. Just like..." She trailed off, staring into space.

"Just like what, mommy?"

"Just like me," she whispered, pulling something from her pocket - a small paper bag from the crystal shop downtown. "Here, I got you something very special today for your birthday. It took me seven years to find it.”

David's eyes lit up as she carefully unwrapped a mood ring, its surface gleaming with iridescent colors in the evening light.

“Magic ring!” He breathed out.

"Yes," Rachel explained, slipping it onto his small finger. "It changes colors with your emotions, just like your dragon friend."

The boy stared in wonder as the liquid crystals in the ring shifted from deep blue to vibrant purple. "How does it work?"

"The crystals respond to temperature changes…" Rachel began.

"Temp-ra-turr!" David repeated excitedly.

“Yes,” his mother nodded. “But it’s much more than that. This ring... it’s not like the others of its kind. It has potential. Real magical potential.”

“Pott-ensial?”

"Yes, potential," Rachel nodded, pulling up the Crystallography book and opening a page with the drawing of fractal stars on it. "You see, David, everything has patterns within patterns. Look here, David. See these hexagrammic fractals?”

“Frac-tall-sss?”

“Infinite mathematical patterns that exist everywhere,” his mother said. “Keys to unlocking reality. This book is all about them. This is a very precious, rare edition, maybe the last one of its kind. It was written by a Soviet Virologist, a man who designed very dangerous viruses all his life. When his country, the Soviet Union, fell apart, Vladislav Kerenski abandoned his work in a secret city called Aralsk Seven, immigrated to USA and published this book. Everything in it is based on his study of fractal mathematics.”

David stared at his mom. The idea of a secret city sounded exciting.

“You see, David… According to Dr. Kerenski, some things in our world are broken in just the right way, cracked along lines that shouldn't exist. They're loopholes in reality, outliers in general probability. Some people can use their understanding of patterns to win the lottery, taking advantage of a system. But, there is more to it… so much more!”

She traced the complex geometric patterns with her finger, her eyes taking on that familiar distant look that made David's father very angry.

"Most objects are just objects, following the rules of our universe. But sometimes... sometimes things break differently. They crack along impossible angles, form patterns that shouldn't exist. Like this ring - it's not just responding to temperature, like the others of its kind. It's... reaching for something else. Something far beyond.”

David stared at the diagrams in his mother's book, not really understanding but fascinated by how the lines seemed to fold into themselves, creating endless recursive bits.

"Others don’t know this," Rachel continued, her voice dropping lower. "Dr. Kerenski wrote that there is a force that doesn't want us to find these cracks, the places where reality doesn't quite line up. But I see them. I can find them.”

“Why?”

“I started… to see them after I put Dr. Kerenski’s ‘Understanding’ into practice. In crystals, in certain arrangements of numbers, in the static, in sand… they're everywhere, invisible to mundane people with mundane lives.”

“Like magic?”

"Not quite. You're special, David. You were born in our house - the house I've been preparing for years. Every crystal I've hung in the windows, every mirror I've positioned just so, every number I've carved into the basement beams... they're all part of a greater pattern that I’ve been building based on this book.”

“Why?”

"Our entire house is an engine designed to break reality on purpose, David. I've been modifying it since before you were born, aligning everything perfectly. The crystals catch certain wavelengths, the mirrors reflect specific angles, the numbers resonate at particular frequencies..."

The boy watched as his mother ranted, her eyes gleaming with violet sparks. She was using a lot of big, complicated words, speaking too quickly.

"That's why you can see the patterns too," she whispered excitedly. "The house... it changed you, as it changed me, made you special. Made you able to see what others can't…”

“What about dad? Why didn't it change him?”

“Some people just don't want to see,” his mom sighed. “Don't want to understand.”

“I want to see her,” David pointed at the pebbles.

“You will… someday. The house opened your eyes, made you able to observe the Holofractal Principle from Dr. Kerenski's book.”

"Is my dragon friend… a Holo-fracta-ll?" He asked.

"A Holofractal is a fold in reality comprised of invisible waves! Because you can see it, you can see a dragon in your future," Rachel's voice rose with enthusiasm. "The house helped tune you to the right frequency, like a radio finding the perfect station. Your father doesn't understand - he thinks I'm just collecting random things, but everything has a purpose, every single item carefully chosen and placed… like a note in an endless symphony.”

“So I’ma be special for-ev-er, like… like a wizard?” the boy wondered.

"Yes and no, sweetheart," Rachel's eyes darted around the playground nervously. "Special people like us... we have an enemy. Its name is Syntropy - order, control. An invisible force that wants everything to be mundane, predictable, lawful… boring."

David frowned. He didn’t like this part of her wild storytelling, the bad part.

Rachel snapped her Crystallography book closed and pushed it to her chest. "Even though your sight is open now, it can close again. Even I... could forget what I know.”

“Why?”

“If I push too hard against the universe, things break too much,” she answered. “When I try to force too much Understanding at once… I can forget. The knowledge comes and goes like an ocean wave. Some days I remember more, some less.”

“Why?”

“Because there are cycles to everything. Cosmic radiation bathing the Earth emanating from great, distant black holes where reality is divided by zero. Everytime we sleep, we forget things and then wake up as a new person… knowing more or less. Sleep is just another cycle, one that refreshes but also changes, decays us.”

"But what if I forget too?" David asked, feeling rather anxious.

His mother's face fell. "Then you'll become like everyone else. Unable to see. You'll think I'm crazy, just like your father does."

“I don't want to forget!” He said.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Just… Promise me something, David. Promise that even if you forget, even if you stop seeing the magic... you'll keep the ring. Keep it close, cherish it. Don’t ever let go of it… because when you do… You’ll fall straight through reality.”

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

“Fall to where?”

“Into the all-devouring funnel,” Rachel said, her fingers trembling. “Into the hungry, All-Grinding Wheel that feasts on all souls and all worlds.”

"I promise, mommy," David said solemnly, clutching the ring.

The idea of a hellish funnel and his mother’s tears scared him, made him feel uneasy like he was already falling.

Awake and asleep and falling to eternity.

"Good boy," Rachel smiled sadly, wiping her eyes. "Now let's go home before it gets dark.”

----------------------------------------

Dave jerked awake, his heart pounding.

Early morning sunlight streamed through a window overhead, blinding him. For a disorienting moment, Dave thought he was back in his apartment on Earth, his mind still caught in the echoes of his past, the dream-memory of his mother.

His heart clenched as the familiar wave of grief washed over him - the loss of his mom to a house fire caused by her hoarding and the even darker thought that he'd have to face another day without his best friend Lari. The awful reminder, that he’d have to figure out how to cover Lari’s part of the rent, maybe find a new roommate...

Then he felt a weight on his chest and as his eyes finally adjusted to light, reality snapped back into focus.

A dark, kitten-shaped, crystalline form was curled up on top of him, multiple blue eyes blinking lazily.

“Shady,” he smiled.

Upon seeing the Noxix Kitlix Dave's memories realigned themselves properly.

He wasn't on Earth anymore. He was in the city of Shandria, one of the nine great citadels of the Shadow Empire, one of many empires on a megastructure called Arxtruria.

As Dave turned his head, his gaze met a view that took his breath away.

A curvaceous figure sat perched on a fur-covered wooden bench right next to his sleeping bag. Her face was composed of crystalline scales that shifted and sparkled like living opals in the sunshine spilling through the round stained glass behind her.

Her body was a mesmerizing fusion of dragon and humanoid features - curvy dark violet horns framed a face that somehow managed to be both fierce and delicate. Long ears twitched. Crystalline, ruby-red hair fell in a shimmering waterfall between the horns past her shoulders, each semi-transparent strand catching and breaking up rays of light into prismatic rainbows.

The dragongirl was attentively combing her hair with a large metal comb. The hand-made comb looked like a stylized dragon clutching a hundred swords within its fearsome maw and claws.

As the dragoness tended to her mane, she hummed a soft, wordless melody.

Another small, dark crystalline kitten was perched atop her head, mimicking her movements as she groomed herself. The small creature's sharp four ears, dorsal spine and big violet-gold eyes pulsed softly in time with the girl’s humming - a haunting, wordless melody that seemed to resonate with something deep in Dave's soul.

The dragoness's voice, as rich and warm as a velvety summer night, seemed to embrace him, providing a sense of comfort that he hadn't realized he was missing his entire life.

When gold-violet eyes finally caught his gaze, the song cut off abruptly. Her scales flickered through a rapid cascade of pink and red hues, the Kitlix atop of her head replicating the colors of her changing scales exactly.

“Morning Remicra,” he said, offering her a smile.

"How long have you been staring?" she demanded, adjusting a metal-bug-wing undershirt that she was wearing.

"Long enough to appreciate the view," Dave shot back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I had another dream... no, a memory.” He yawned, ignoring her question.

“About?”

“Of being a six-year-old kid in a sandbox, making pictures with polished glass shards and rocks," Dave explained. "I made a dragon out of pebbles.”

“Was this dragon… Me?” Remicra asked with a weary expression.

“Yes you.”

“That… sounds like Skill Psychosis,” she said.

“I don’t think that I’m going insane from going up too many levels too quickly,” Dave replied. “I’ve been going over my childhood memories using Dreamspace Communion, trying to reassert what I am. I remembered that my mom found this weird book somewhere…”

"A book?" Remicra raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Dave sat up, making Shady jump off him. "An old, raggedy book that she kept reading. A Crystallography text written by some ex-Soviet doctor. My mom was obsessed with it. She believed it contained secrets about the universe, about fractal patterns, Omnicode language that could break through reality to... something else."

"And this relates to me how exactly?" Remicra asked, running her metal comb through her ruby-tinted hair again.

"My mom said our house was some kind of a magic engine she built based on that book's instructions. That it helped me see patterns others couldn't because I was born there. That's why I first saw you - in arrangements of pebbles, in TV static, in wallpaper designs..."

"You're saying your mother built some kind of... reality-breaking, magic artifact in a world without magic?" Remicra's scales shifted to a skeptical orange. "That somehow let you see me decades before we ever met here on Arx?"

“Yes.”

"You know," Remicra rolled her eyes. "I'm not some mystical dream-creature, just a mundane smith with Pathosteel and Dragon Affinities.”

"I choose to disagree,” Dave shrugged. “You absolutely are my mystical dream girl. Remember when we first met? You were so determined to chase me out of your smithy, but all I could do was stare at you, trying to remember where I’ve seen you before.”

"What was I supposed to do?” the dragoness scoffed. “Welcome the strange, annoying, blood-covered, smelly human who wandered into my prison with open arms?"

"Prison…" Dave's expression darkened slightly. "You know… that collar bothers me on a personal level. Can we not take it off while I am subleasing you?”

Remicra's hand went unconsciously to the thick metal band around her neck. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Overseer Princess would know if the collar runework was interrupted,” Remicra explained with a sigh. “She’d come here and investigate, figure out that you’re not using me to kill dungeon monsters and that you’re not a real Highborn Lord. Then she’d gate her entire Hunter team here and they’d kill you and that would be that.”

Dave sighed.

“Did you forget that I killed a Highborn Knight? I am bound to Shandria for life. Even if Burgundy dies, I still won't be free.” The dragoness stated bluntly as she tapped at her collar with a dark claw. "The Bondsmen Guild is a nation-wide institution that keeps meticulous ledgers of all slaves. Like this smithy, I am but a mere possession of Burgundy's Estate. If he were to perish, I would simply pass into the hands of his next of kin. And if there is no next of kin or if Burgundy’s Estate no longer exists, the Bondsmen Guild would reclaim me by sending one of their bounty hunters to collect me.”

“Oh,” Dave said.

"Even if Shandria was razed to the ground and reduced to ashes, other cities under the Aegis of the Shadow maintain copies of the infernal ledger. If someone is made a slave for life, they cannot be freed. Yes, the Estate of Burgundy owns me, but even if its master were to lose his mind and decide to grant me my freedom, I would simply return to another cage. Once a person's soul is bound to the Bondsmen Guild's ledger for a big enough crime, their name is forever etched within its pages."

"That’s pretty damn horrible," Dave declared.

“I’ve accepted it long ago,” Remicra shrugged. “I’ll never be truly free of this Abyss-damned artifact feeding on my magic. Even if you sell the Voidtree from the Whispering Depths dungeon and somehow convince Burgundy to sell me to you, I’ll still be collared.”

"There has to be a way," Dave insisted. "Some loophole in the system..."

"The only way out is death," Remicra stated matter-of-factly. "And even then, the collar prevents suicide, reporting if the slave is dying to the Guild. It's designed to maintain the Guild's property. The collar ensures that slaves are eternally kept in check. They have devised this perverse system so that a freed slave cannot retaliate against the Guild, liberate their kin, or employ any kind of magic to free themselves or influence their master's mind through threats or seduction."

The grim reality of Remicra's plight hung in the air between them like a dark, oppressive cloud, casting a pall over the cozy sanctuary of the smithy's loft.

"What about..." Dave began, but was interrupted by a crystalline chime from the dark Kitlix, pawing at him.

[Daylight out. Dawn! Duty done? Want rest!] The Shadowbeast within Shady insisted, the Kitlix waving a paw at the window.

“Right,” Dave said. He grabbed the Kitlix, reshaping her into a large ring.

A portal manifested with flash inside of the crystalling ring. A mass of writhing shadows poured from its innards, quickly coalescing into a dark foxgirl form. Dave turned around as his friend dressed in her dark leather, gemstone-encrusted outfit that contained her memories.

"Morning guys!" she chirped cheerfully. "Did you two have fun without me?"

Both Dave and Remicra remained silent.

“I see that this relationship is going to need much more work to function,” Cedez commented. “Eyyy. What are you two so glum about?”

"We were discussing the Bondsmen Guild's collars," Dave explained grimly.

"Oh," Cedez's large fluffy ears drooped slightly. "Yeah, that's... pretty awful stuff. That collar feeds on her mana, powering the ward of the lighthouse. It’s one of the reasons why Highborns bind debtors to properties. Living batteries.”

“What about mana crystals?” Dave asked.

“Those work too… as backup.” Cedez shrugged. “Mana crystals have to be scraped out of dungeons and aren’t as effective as owning slaves. Rems, what level are you?”

“Forty one,” Remicra replied.

“A slave like Remy is worth over forty one thousand gold right now at the Bondsmen Guild,” Cedez said.

“What?!” Dave sputtered at the absurdity of the price.

“She’s a lifetime slave,” Cedez explained. “That’s lifetime value. The older a slave is, the more marketable skills they’ve got and the more power they can pour into a building’s ward. The more properties a High Lord owns, the greater their own status and magic. The Dragon God Emperor who summoned your butt to Arx along with a bazillion other people is only able to do such with a single spell because he owns truly enormous tracts of lands covered in Citadels fed by billions of collared slaves.”

“I see,” Dave sighed.

“If you want to compete with people like that you gotta start owning slaves and buying properties, darling,” Cedez smiled.

“Don’t encourage him,” Remicra butted in.

“I’ll do what I want,” Cedez stuck her tongue at the dragoness. “Why, without my guidance you two would still be loafing…”

"We wouldn't be 'loafing'," Remicra's scales flickered orange. "We'd be..."

"Making moon eyes at each other without actually doing anything about it?" Cedez tilted her head. "Face it bestie, you need my expert matchmaking skills!"

"Expert matchmaking?" Remicra scoffed. "Bugging me with inappropriate jokes isn't matchmaking!”

“I choose to believe otherwise!” Cedez laughed. She reached out to Dave’s head and pulled another Kitlix from his ginger mane. “Healy, back me up on this!”

Dave’s familiar chirped loudly, sparkling green and violet as Cedez squeezed and wiggled her in front of Remicra’s face.

"See?" Cedez grinned triumphantly. "Even Healy knows you two need my help! You should trust her wisdom, she’s a mother! A mother can’t be wrong!”

Remicra’s eye twitched.

Dave broke out into a fit of barely-held-in chortling which earned him a swat of dragonclaw from Remicra.