image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/e6471194e9237913fd2c7a8b44e1bbda/988a5d00da108e35-9c/s400x600/a25688bfa24cbf0a81e9592a0c582d480f101a5b.pnj]

Notice to Users,

For those who missed their initial chance to bond with a familiar, you can still do so by following the attached ritual. Everyone will have an equal opportunity to succeed, but you must now earn your familiar through effort. Your starter sets will be the final handout provided; any further advancement will depend on your ability and dedication.

Follow the instructions carefully, gather the necessary ingredients, and perform the ritual with precision. We will not intervene or provide additional support beyond these guidelines.

The System

The letter was sent shortly after I found and convinced Mr. Grand to look out the window and explained the situation to him. But since he didn't have a familiar, the Letter came in the form of a message that inscribed itself into his walls.

I had the letter in my inbox, so it was sent to everyone and only people without familiars got it written on walls or whatever.

"Can't believe this," Mr. Grand rubbed his eyes. "So everyone else got a big leg-up and I'm just... supposed to what? What even are these ingredients?"

"Monster parts, I believe," I replied. "We have a dead Warg in our apartment, but the ingredients don't say they can use anything from a Warg. So I suppose you're supposed to take a job that has nothing to do with combat, then buy the ingredients."

"Why would anybody need me?" he grips his hands together in his lap. "Isn't everyone some kind of amazing rpg class? I used to play those. Chefs and other mundane people probably have a class too. We're screwed unless someone has pity on us... or gives us the goddamn ingredients in exchange for a corporate contract." He stood up straight and itched at his messy brown hair in a furious manner. "That's what's going to happen. People will see the demand, write up contracts that people will have to choose a certain type of class and work for them for a span of time. It's how it's always worked."

"We'll just have to find the ingredients and nip it in the bud, then," I replied. "If people can get it for free somewhere, they won't need to sign a contract."

"Why would people do that?" he asked. "If there's nothing in it for them, it's just a loss."

"If you're part of the same community, it just makes sense to empower others," I replied. "Because then you don't get stuck defending them in a crisis. And there are more people to defend your collective resources. Also, if they get a choice of classes that could be useful to a community, it only makes sense to take stock, see what they choose and send them where they're needed."

"Not everybody is logical," he replied, but seemed to be thinking very hard on it. "You said there was a message on my phone? Hang on."

I had only begun explaining by the time the letter arrived to prove my words fact. I could understand the hesitation to believe something so fantastical. I just wanted to ensure no one was collapsing into a puddle of tears. I'd wondered why no one else was moving around, but a lot of people were probably hoping to stay in their apartment, barricade the door and wait. If they were even fully sensate at the point we left our own apartment.

Toria had been utterly convinced she was insane because she was alone. Felicity didn't know what'd happened because she and her son live alone and he's two. He couldn't articulate what he was hearing or seeing and couldn't even really understand what he'd need to do. He would've grabbed his toy and hoped the bad feelings would go away and babbled a noise that he associated with the toy or his mother or fear or something and it would've ended up being the Familiar's name.

Pure accident. And also by pure accident, his mother failed to get a familiar because he didn't know to bring her anything and she didn't clutch at something and say a name the way Katz and Toria did. She likely only had a thought for her son, but she didn't have anything on her body precious to her, so it didn't count and didn't accidentally name the familiar after someone dear.

"So we need to get everyone on this floor awake, up to speed and then meet in the lobby," Mr. Grand said. "Whoever sent the message seems like they've got their shit together. They should be helpful."

"I sent the message," I said.

He paused and stared at me for a moment. "Yeah, that checks out. Come on, let's go find everyone and then get you down to the lobby so you can make people feel safer. Let's go, go, go."

What?

I was familiar with the principle. But my flat affect tended to have the opposite effect. People reacted more typically like Felicity had, calling me a robot or other more slur-like terms and deciding I couldn't do anything and knew nothing. Sending messages was essentially the only thing I could do to project a different image.

And then... I had a thought as I followed him to the next room. I stopped him as he was going for the knob.

"You've seen I am not good with people," I said. "But I am very good at knowing what to do next and then doing it."

He squinted at me. "Yeah..."

"You seem to be very good at remaining calm in crises, but are also capable of acknowledging the situation and pointing out new facets I hadn't considered," I said. "We should simply say that you are BlissfulDreams."

"Hang on, what?" He turned to face me with an incredulous expression. "Why would we do that? Why can't you just do it?"

"You haven't spent enough time with me," I replied. "I can mask, but in crisis situations, I tend not to. I will not be comforting. I will not be leadership material from everyone else's perspective. I'm a much better planner and executor than I am a public figure."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"...you seem fine to me," he said.

"I just slapped a woman for being too loud, as there are monsters outside that could be drawn in. And then I told her to stop freaking out and get busy when she learned about the monsters and what was going on," I said. "And I know that was considered wrong to other people, but I can't comprehend why. To my mind, I do what needs to be done and everything gets done, so what's the difference? But people are often angry or frustrated with me because my emotions show themselves in different ways."

"Ahhh," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're one of them... uh. Autistics?"

"Autistic person, but no," I replied. "I don't have an official diagnosis, but it's something similar to Autism and ADHD, at least. I just can't say I am one, because... well, no official diagnosis."

"And people get pissy about that kinda thing," he muttered to himself as he seemed to think my proposal over. "Alright. Give me your screenname and make yours something else. We'll pretend I'm in charge so people don't get scared. But you need to message me about what to do next, what to look into... I'm good at projecting confidence, you kinda need it to get jobs, but... I'm honestly kind of a slob."

"I had noticed from the state of your apartment," I replied.

He sucked his lips in and then let them out with a pop. "Yup, you're right, that was a completely rude thing to say."

I changed my Username to Lila Cooper and he changed his to BlissfulDreams before it could be snatched up by someone else. Though I wonder if that even works that way...

Checking the messages, it seems the sent message was still from BlissfulDreams, thankfully. It didn't change the name of past sent messages, then...

"Alright, I'm gonna get down to the lobby then and start getting everyone chilled out and tell them to wait till we have more people to talk," he said. "Get down there as soon as you can and start sending me messages about what to do."

"Yes," I replied and watched him walk away down the corridor. I didn't envy his job. He'd have to smile and pretend everything was fine while I got the easy jobs of just simply completing tasks. I felt a bit guilty, but then reasoned that perhaps it would be easier for him than someone like me.

I wasn't able to open the door when I went for the knob for the next apartment.

"GET AWAY!" someone's voice shouted from the other side of the door. "I DON'T NEED HELP, I'VE GOT MY CLASSES AND EVERYTHING, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE."

Well, ordinarily I would. "If you're staying, then we just need to know what class you chose-"

"YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW SHIT! I'M NOT SIGNING UP TO GET TAGGED AND BAGGED," her voice was hoarse but also had that telltale tang of...

"Ma'am, are you high?" I asked. "I can just wait for you to come down from your bad trip."

"WHAT!?" There was a lot of noise and she eventually threw open the door, huffing and puffing, red-faced. "What'd you just say to me!?"

"Your voice sounds hysterical," I replied. "But you seem to understand the situation. I thought perhaps you were partaking in recreational drugs."

She stares at me. "Are you really stupid enough to say some shit like that to somebody's face?"

"Are you stupid enough to try and attack someone who has much more practice with her class than you?" I asked. "I killed the Warg on this floor. What have you been doing?"

The silence as she just stared blankly at me was strange. "You... you killed it?"

"It's dead in my apartment," I said and pointed. "Go and look if you must, but then get down to the lobby if you're the only one in your apartment. Or group up with some other people and send a representative."

"What makes you think you can tell me what to do?" she asked, seeming to come out of her stupor a bit. "Who put you in charge?"

"The entire point of going to the lobby is to PUT someone in charge. If you don't want to be part of that decision, then stay," I replied and moved away from her.

"Where are you goin'!?" she demanded.

"I'm checking on the neighbors," I replied and tried to turn the next Knob. This one didn't open either, but no one said anything from inside. I tapped on the door with my fingertip, to make a noise they could hear, but not loud enough to draw attention.

I heard a shuffling and then suddenly an eighteen-to-twenty year old girl was blinking her sleepy eyes at me. "Huh? I didn't order anything."

She tried to close the door again, and I asked her, "is there anything carved in your walls?"

Her expression went from confusion to irritation, and then instinctively she just looked. And then it changed to alarm. "What the FUCK is that!?"

I repeated this process about fifteen more times. Though a more accurate number might've been sixteen, since I stopped to look at the biggest number on the floor and it said 20. So minus myself, Toria and Katz, plus Grand, that'd be sixteen other apartments. So I repeated it sixteen times.

I'm so tired, I thought as I made my way back to Katz's apartment. It wasn't a long walk, but it felt like it. And everyone was getting out in the halls now, to discuss who to send as representative. I just had to go and let Toria and Katz know about the arrangement with Grand and tell Sophia that I'd be back later.

But when I tapped the door and Toria opened it, Sophia and Max were both asleep and Mrs. Katz and Felicity were both sitting on the couch, holding hands and praying. I didn't really understand religion, but I respected privacy, so I brought Toria out into the hall and explained.

"You could've asked me," she said and frowned. "I would've helped and you wouldn't have had to tell anyone else."

"Grand wasn't sobbing when I found him and easily accepted and adapted to the changes," I said. "You could break down again in an important moment. Besides, I only thought of it because he and I were talking about it, or I might've asked Mrs. Katz to do it."

She was crossing her arms tightly and glaring at me. "Everyone has these kinds of reactions sometimes, even you!"

My brow pinched. You have to really get me to feel annoyed or confused for that to happen naturally and frankly, I'm both. "Yes? But you're more prone to collapsing into a heap of tears. It's just a fact. I would trust you with making promotional art for me before anyone else. Does that help?" She's a graphic designer, so of course that's her skill. But she cries a LOT.

"Not really!" she snapped and then thought about it and sighed. "I know you don't mean it like I'm a baby or something, but god, can't you learn to talk to people? It's not that hard! You just have to avoid saying stuff to offend people."

"But that's everything," I retorted. "I can't so much as point out that someone's made a mistake on their homework, to HELP them, without people being angry at me. So I gave up on being 'polite' in that way and just follow the other rules of etiquette instead."

She nodded, rolling her eyes. "I remember. I just... stop mentioning people's weaknesses. Can you do that? Focus on their strengths. Is that possible?"

I thought about it. It was telling the truth, it was just that I wouldn't be mentioning something related. Which can be difficult when trying to explain something. How do you tell someone they aren't fit for this job when they illogically think that their fitness for it, doesn't matter? When a toothpick person asks to be allowed to lift a heavy load you KNOW they can't lift without hurting themselves, how do you say 'You are too small and weak for this' in a 'nice' way?

"It will be a challenge," I said. "But I will try. I won't hide what I think."

"I know, god forbid," she said. "Jeremy at least knows how to be nice to people. God I miss him, he can communicate with you better than I can."

True, I thought. Jeremy and I were on a similar wavelength and while we did still have problems communicating, we had it easier with each other than anyone else. He'd tried to explain to me how to avoid offending people, but I only understood it logically as 'lie', 'obfuscate' and 'manipulate'.

My phone vibrated and I checked it to see that BlissfulDreams was sending me 'Where the hell are you?' essentially. "Mr. Grand requests my presence. Will you be alright to watch Sophia?"

"Me and Felicity can handle the kids," she said, sighing. "I know you're better at stuff like this than I am, so... whatever. But I still want to help."

"Your class will be extremely helpful," I replied. "It's versatile. You simply cannot help every second. I don't understand why people are always so irritated by that."

"Huh," she looked up and then back down at me. "Yeah. I guess that's true. It's just when you're sittin' still, it feels like you're just relying on other people."

"I've been told since I was six that 'relying on other people' is supposed to be the way we live," I said. "But at every turn people spit it out like a curse. I've never been able to figure that out."

She turned slightly pink and coughed. "Just go, okay?" and returns to the apartment.