[1.03] Orders are Absolute (Part 2)

Morning was over before Angelica knew it. Most of the other clean-up participants had departed after an hour or two, with a large group currently having their hauls weighed for payment, eager to head to lunch with their well-earned cash. How desperately she wished that she could be among them, having never pushed herself beyond this amount of effort in the past.

She was tired and hungry, having already surpassed everyone else in the amounts of rubbish she’d bagged. It was sufficient enough work that she could be proud of her efforts, content with the amount of money made that day. But for whatever reason, she simply could not stop. Not for trying.

“Stop, please stop!” Angelica begged her body, quietly, so that no one would hear. But every time she tried to regain control of her actions, she was given the same response. Her mind would repeat a thought that she did not conceive of, at least consciously. It was in the voice of her inner-monologue, but in no way was it words she would ever use, as if her rationality was hijacked by an outside force.

[Named Contracts can only be terminated by the Summoner.]

What in the blazing hells did that even mean? Why would she force herself to acquiesce to some random rule her subconscious came up with without her consent? At first, she’d assumed her weird mental state was some lingering reaction to the paint fumes, and she had even eagerly leaned into the strange motivational power it provided. But now she was trapped, betrayed by her body.

That didn’t stop her from trying a few other things. Whatever rules the command was playing by, it would allow her to take slightly deviating actions as long as they followed the overall goal of trash collection. Anytime a bag was full, she could pause briefly to tie it up and unfurl a new one that she had stuffed in her pockets, and when she ran out entirely, it drove her toward the supply table to get more.

In an effort to leverage this, Angelica attempted to impede herself so she couldn’t possibly continue, but none of it worked. She tried to swerve her poking stick into one of the bags, to tear it and make it unusable, but her hand wouldn’t commit. Then she managed to kick off one of her shoes, hoping that would somehow disqualify the action, meaning she’d have to break the command to retrieve it or get a new pair. But not only did it keep her going despite her lack of footwear, her body even tried to collect the shoe as trash, nearly driving a hole in it. That became an entire effort and a half to get it back on as well.

At some point, when most of the other participants had left, the organizers had packed up the spare tools. So Angelica tried to break hers. Surely, if she couldn’t easily get a replacement, her body would allow her to stop. But even after she’d managed to wedge her trash poker, bending it to the point that it would almost crack, her instincts flared. They told her that if she lost her tool, the Contract would force her to continue with just her hands, so she abandoned that idea immediately.

Then she tried different phrases to get her actions to change. If she couldn’t get herself to stop, maybe she could order herself to take a break. “Go get lunch, and then you can keep going!” Angelica attempted to convince her own stubborn mind. But it responded with that same weird thought process, words that weren’t her own.

[Summoner Rank too low. Can only issue one Order per Contract.]

What the frits?! That idea was actually her own. The fact that it hadn’t worked sucked, sure, but there was another part that bugged her more. If I’m the Summoner after all, then why can’t I cancel this scuffing command?!

“Can you at least tell me how much more I have to go?” After the first time the prompt announced itself in her mind, it had never appeared again. She’d try to keep it going on her own, but quickly lost track somewhere in the thirties, and that was hundreds of pieces ago, it had to be!

[Current Contract: Pick up trash without stopping (647/1,000)]

That was actually somewhat comforting. It meant her current nightmare surely had an end, and she was farther along than her estimate. The afternoon passed, and the trash collector had given up trying to escape her fate. She was making continual progress, so Angelica had just accepted that it was easier to push through. However, the more time that went on, the worse that she felt.

Her legs and arms were aching, having not properly exercised them in some time. And in particular, her stabbing shoulder was really sore. Angelica’s hand holding the poker had surely blistered, feeling raw and tattered with every motion. She was tired and hungry, lightheaded from dehydration. Her one saving grace was that because her body was so empty, not once had she felt the need to go to the bathroom.

And at the peak of her frustration, just as the sun had started to set, another random thought surged to her attention.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

[Transfiguration Lv.2]

[Beguilement increased]

“Oh, good, how does that help?!” Angelica uttered aloud, probably sounding like a psycho if anyone could hear her. However, despite the nonsense, some relief did come from another strange message not long later.