TWENTY-FIVE: Wardrobe

Wardrobe

The boy stood in front of a white door.

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, or where he had come from, or what he was supposed to do next. His fingers rested on the cool metal knob without gripping it. He watched them for a while, then gradually he looked up.

A sign had been affixed to the door with clear tape. It said QUARANTINE in black marker.

The handwriting looked familiar.

He blinked slowly, and it changed.

DON’T BE AFRAID, it said. WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU.

As though the phrase had triggered something, he had his first clear thought.

My name’s Alden. What’s going on?

He looked from left to right. There was nothing but endless, empty hallway on either side of him. And at his back…he was scared to turn around. Something bad would happen to him if he did.

He tightened his grip on the knob and twisted. The door swung open easily, and he stepped through into a room that glowed with a deep gold light. It was several degrees warmer than was comfortable. A bed made of artfully curved wooden branches embraced a thick foam mattress, and a line of screens glowed on the wall above it.

Every screen was flashing with the same message that had been written on the door.

That’s not right, Alden thought.

He recognized this room. It was in the House of Healing in Chicago. The screens were supposed to be showing numbers and graphs and detailed anatomical models.

VERY GOOD, said the screens. PLEASE HAVE A SEAT AND WAIT.

There was nowhere to sit but on the bed. Alden walked over to it. There was a stool in place below it as if a much shorter person was expected to need it. He hopped up and sat, twiddling his thumbs while he watched the white door.

Just as he started to feel the first stirrings of impatience, the door opened, and something that Alden decided was most likely a robot stepped through.

It was a solid white humanoid figure, about the same size as him. It looked like it was made of plastic, and it had no recognizable physical features. Even its hands were fingerless oval shapes.

“Hello, Alden,” it said, holding one of the ovals out toward him.

Alden shook it automatically.

“Good,” it said. “That was the desired response. Allow me to apologize to you for the inconvenience of this meeting. On rare occasions, my final integration with a being proves abnormally difficult. At such times, special protocols must be followed to prevent the creation of an abomination.”

“You’re the System?”

He remembered now. He’d just affixed his class.

“Good,” it said again. “The timing of your realization is within parameters. And your mind is intact. Affixation will be possible, though adjustments may be necessary in the future.”

“What’s an abomination?”

“You are not one. You merely contain a previously un-encountered presence.”

Gorgon, thought Alden. It’s whatever he did to me.

“Yes. Prisoner #12005794 has slightly modified you.”

“I didn’t say that out loud.”

“We are currently in a room made of your own memories while I monitor your mental processes. Your thoughts are the entire source and purpose of this conversation.”

“It’s just a little magically enforced veganism. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Good. A sense of humor is a sign of healthy mind. But I do not worry. And if I did worry, I would not worry about this. The presence is exerting a stabilizing effect on your existence, which is also one of my functions. It is merely new to me, and therefore difficult to interact with.”

So the System was good with Alden’s new mental weirdness. That was nice. But what if the Artonans weren’t?

“Anomalies are only reported if they exceed certain thresholds. Violation of spiritual or mental privacy incurs a debt.”

What the hell does that mean?

The white robot tipped its head at an angle that somehow looked annoyed despite the lack of visual information on its blank face. “It’s too expensive to violate the finer details of the Contract for the sake of small-fry.”

“Insulting me while you play with my brain will probably give me some kind of complex you know.”

“Good,” it said. There was a long pause.

Alden raised an eyebrow at it.

“Fear for your own wellbeing is an appropriate response.”

#

“He’s awake! Boe, he’s awake!”

Alden blinked up at a fluorescent light overhead. He felt a little dizzy. And he was confused about why he was tucked into the sleeping bag on the floor when he clearly remembered sitting on the trading table while he finalized the affixation.

Before he could sit up, Jeremy hit the ground beside him and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re not brain dead, are you? How many fingers am I holding up!?”

He waved his hands in Alden’s face.

“All ten of them I guess?”

“He can count, Boe!”

“I see that. Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Alden managed to fend off Jeremy for long enough to right himself. Boe was sitting at the table with a thermos beside him. It was full of coffee, if the smell in the room was anything to go by.

“Guess what percentage of B-ranks swoon like distressed damsels?” Boe said.

“Not a lot?” Alden rubbed his eyes. Fainting during affixation was a rare occurrence.

“Yeah. And guess how many new Avowed stay unconscious for sixteen hours?”

Alden stared at him. Then he looked around the room. There was a half-eaten pizza on the table. And one of the mats from the wordchain classroom was beside his sleeping bag.

“Jeremy tried to wordchain you back to life like he was a healer. My Artonan sucks, but I’m pretty sure he traded his liver away accidentally. So that’s on you now.”

Boe had dark bags under his eyes.

“Sorry, man. Sorry both of you. Jeremy, seriously? I can stand up on my own.”

“You’ll have to apologize to Gorgon, too,” Boe said. “When you didn’t wake up after a few minutes, we went to get him. He wasn’t even remotely interested at first. But after three hours, he started to chew on his claws.”

I bet he did. He must have suspected the System would notice. Alden climbed to his feet and bounced up and down on them experimentally.

He felt normal, but…high-end normal. Healthy, well-rested, thoroughly grounded. Slightly too interested in the trading table.

Huh. That was weird. That Rabbit point boost in Sympathy for Magic must be doing that. Alden didn’t think coming out of your affixation with a newfound love for alien furniture was standard.

“What time is it, then?” he asked.

“Around two in the morning,” said Boe.

Alden winced. “Wow. You guys could have gone home and left me with Gorgon.”

“No way!” said Jeremy. “I wanted to be here when you woke up!”

“I went home and showered.”

“But if it’s two, the consulate’s empty, right?”

“It’s just the three of us and Gorgon,” Jeremy said, excitement coloring his voice. “Are you gonna play with your new skill?”

“I just got a super power,” Alden said, grinning. “Of course I am.”

Jeremy leaped up. “Boe made a list of things for us to try.”

“Grab the box in the corner, Alden,” said Boe. “It’s got some supplies.”

Alden bent to pick it up, examining the contents curiously. “Why do we need so many golf balls? And what’s the spray paint for?”

“Test One,” said Boe. “Jeremy, your time has come.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Jeremy karate chopped the box with all his might.

With a startled yelp, Alden leaped back as it tumbled from his hands. Golf balls went everywhere. “What was that for!?”

“I told you to grab the box,” Boe said, making a note in a binder he’d brought. “I wanted to see if you accepting the request automatically made me your target and started the preservation.”

“But you could have told me that!”

“It was funnier this way. After you pick up all the stuff you just dropped, we’ll do Test Two.”

 

#

 

Standing in the lobby under the glittering LED’s, with Gorgon watching quietly from the desk, Alden finally got to use his first superpower.

As far acts of magic went, it wasn’t that special. “Target Boe,” he said. Immediately, the his System interface showed a ring of white light over Boe’s head.

“It gave you a halo,” Alden reported.

“I guess that’s better than crosshairs. You’re not trying to shoot me after all. Here’s a package for you, Rabbit.”

Boe set the box of junk down, and Alden bent to pick it up.

It’s heavier, he thought at first. But that wasn’t right. It was just his mind trying to wrap itself around what appeared to be a brand new sense. It was like the cardboard box in his arms suddenly had its own gravitational pull, but that pull only affected…

My what? Focus? Willpower?

The strange pull lessened and then stopped. For a second, Alden thought he’d adapted to it, but then he remembered. “Right. Cessation of carriage ends preservation. So if I take a step…”

He took his first, and then immediately stopped again, startled by how different it was. “Oh, the Azure trait’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I can’t imagine it wouldn’t. Its effect is supposed to increase as your speed does, so I recommend you wear a helmet before you try running around in an enclosed space…what’s it feel like?”

“My foot pushing off the ground felt normal, but…” He walked a few more steps, testing it out. “I’m getting more oomph out of each step than I should. I almost have to tiptoe to maintain my usual walking speed.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

It was a little, but Alden was not in the mood for negativity. “Yeah, but if I walk like I normally would…”

He gave it a try and managed a series of strides more like short leaps than steps with only the same amount of push off. This is cool.

It was easy to control. It was just confusing because he wasn’t used to it.

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“To my absolute shock, you don’t look totally ridiculous doing that,” Boe admitted grudgingly. “Only like fifteen percent cartoon-character.”

“His posture’s good,” Jeremy said. “Can I hit him yet?”

He’d been shadow boxing for a while. For some reason, he really wanted to punch a magic shield.

“Hang on. Alden, how’s your skill working? The luggage skill I mean, not whatever it is you’re doing with your feet.”

Alden refocused on the box. That odd new sense was still there.

A willpower drain still seemed to be the closest thing he could come up with for a good description. But it was small. He probably wouldn’t even have noticed it if it wasn’t so new.

He was pretty sure his arms would give out before the drain forced him to stop carrying the box, but it was still useful to know there was some limit beyond the physical.