Adventurers Wanted

t was little surprise to you that you passed your finals with the highest marks. Whatever complaints your classmates may have had with your presentation, they didn’t affect your score with the judges. Still, you felt no reason to join your class for the graduation ceremony. You could always pick up your diploma whenever you wanted. Instead, you decided to stay in your laboratory and work on your latest construct.

“Alexle, play my music,” you command. Alexle obeys, and music flows from the voice boxes mounted on the walls. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath before you turn to your construct and begin working. You hold up a metal plate over the construct’s chest and begin welding it in place with magic energy from your other hand. Alexle suddenly alerts you.

“Enchanter, someone approaches. Shall I run them off?”

“Yes, send them away. Activate irrigation.” You can’t be bothered by visitors or jealous classmates who want to vandalize your home. You smile when you hear your irrigation system run, but the knock at the door wipes the mirth off your face. You turn to the crystal ball on the table next to you. “Alexle, activate the viewing lens at the primary entrance.”

Suddenly, the crystal ball fills with an image of your mentor, Enchanter Zorg. He looks up at you and frowns as his robes absorb the water from your irrigation system. “Alexle! Turn off irrigation system!” you yell as you rush to open the front door.

Zorg stands before you, drenched. He’s carrying several books in his arms – also drenched. You take them from him and usher him inside. “Enchanter Zorg, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you. See how you were doing.”

“I’m fine,” you reply earnestly. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Water, please.” You pour Zorg a glass of water and he downs it with relish. He looks around your laboratory and admires your latest construct.

“Was there anything else?” you ask.

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about your relationship with your machines.”

“My relationship?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “They’re just machines.”

Zorg looks at you for a long moment before smirking. “I was like you once. Creating machines to simply make my life easier.” He lets his empty glass fall and shatter on your floor. It immediately activates your Broomba, which rolls out to sweep up the shards. “Look at this little thing,” Zorg says. “So busy now. Notice how it’s useful. What a lovely ballet ensues, so full of form and color.”

The Broomba returns to its energy station.

“But when you build a construct with intelligence, you are creating more than an appliance. You’re creating a companion. You’re creating an entity that is worthy of more consideration.”

You look at Zorg in disbelief. “Enchanter Zorg, I appreciate what you’re saying, but these machines are not alive.”

Zorg looks down at the floor for a long moment, then he motions to Big Pup. “If you commanded Big Pup to jump off a cliff to its destruction, would it?”

You hesitate to answer. The thought had never crossed your mind before.

“If not,” Zorg continues, “is it because it learned not to do that or because it didn’t want to die? And once an entity is aware of its own existence and values that existence, wouldn’t you call that being alive? Maybe not alive in the way you and I are alive, but alive nonetheless.”

You mull over your mentor’s words. “Just think about it. I’ve brought some meditations from scholars that guided me to see these constructs differently.”

You look at the tomes he brought. They’re written by scholars such as Asimov, Gerrold, and Piercy. “I hope they’ll be your guides, too. Have a pleasant evening.” Zorg gives you a quick nod before leaving.

he last week was a blur of gadget reviews, unboxings, finals, and your graduation. Your teachers rolled their eyes when you etherstreamed your walking on stage to receive your diploma. Now that you were free from school obligations – at least for a little while – you decided to work through your backlog of gadgets and artefacts to review.

A few days later, you began to notice a drop in attendance to your etherstreams. The chatter was getting quieter. During one unboxing etherstream, you even overheard someone from the chatter mutter, “Neph is right. Why am I watching this?” Then they disappeared into the ether.

You had hoped that your mentor, BangLiveCake, would have contacted you to provide some guidance, but he’s been missing since he appeared in your etherstream last week. It was time to do your own investigation and find out why your audience was leaving and what Neph, your rival Influmancer, had to do with it.

You decide it’s time to visit your local tea house.

Tea houses are operated by the elves and are popular across New Eggland but not for the flavor of their tea. Instead, the elves have the ability to read tea leaves and watch any etherstream, past or present. This way, people can find out what others have been saying about them on their etherstreams.

When you walk in, the elf woman behind the counter stands to greet you. “Hello child. I am Lenor. How may I help you?”

“I’d like a reading, please.”

“Of course, I have the perfect reader for you,” she says, beckoning you to follow her into the main room.

As you do so, you pass other patrons who react in shock at their readings. “I can’t believe she said that!” one patron gasps. “I knew it! I knew it!” another exclaims. Finally, you reach your table where a young male elf sits alone with a tea set waiting for a customer. Lenor pulls a chair out for you to sit in.

“This is my new apprentice,” Lenor says, motioning to the male elf, “His name is Keem, my star pupil. You’re in good hands.”

Lenor returns to the front counter, and you look at Keem expectantly. He clears his throat.

“Before we begin,” Keem says, “would you like a cushion for your chair? We sell them for 5 copper pieces.” You shake your head. “Are you hungry? We also have a small list of appetizers. The kitchen makes pot stickers that are very popular with guests.”

“No, thank you. I’m just here for the tea,” you reply flatly, slapping down a gold piece onto the table. “Now spill it.”

“Sorry,” Keem says under his breath, “they make me say that.” He takes your gold then drops some loose-leaf tea into his cup and pours hot water over it. You both wait as it steeps. After a few minutes, Keem drinks most of the hot tea then swirls what’s left in his cup. Suddenly, his eyes blaze with arcane energy as messages from the tea leaves take shape.

“Yes,” Keem intones, “a woman named Neph has been talking about you on her etherstreams. She says that your content is stale.”

Your eyes narrow and your mouth falls open reflexively. “My content is stale?!” you shout. “What about hers? How many times can people watch someone put on face paint?”

“There’s more,” Keem continues. “She says that no one’s interested in gadget reviews. People can get that content anywhere. What people want are engaging personalities and unique experiences. She says that you can’t provide either, so people need to stop watching you.” Keem’s vision ends, and he blinks away the energy in his eyes. He looks up at you and asks, “What are you going to do now?”

Minutes later, you stand outside of BangLiveCake’s estate in front of his gate which has his “POW” logo emblazoned on it. You look around before hopping the fence and walking up to his mansion. When you finally arrive, you pound on the huge double doors.

“Bangs,” you plead, “it’s me! Open up!” After a few moments, the doors finally open to reveal your mentor. His arm is in a sling.

“I broke my arm,” he says. He motions you in, and you both walk to his studio where you explain your newfound feud with Neph. You finish catching him up and wait for BangLiveCake to give you advice. He doesn’t. Instead, he just looks wistfully over your shoulder out the window.

“Bangs, are you OK?” you ask, waving your hand in front of his eyes.

“Do you think she might have a point?”

“What?” His question staggers you. “You’re siding with her?”

“No, of course not. She’s a terrible person. What I mean is, maybe there’s more to our existence than sharing every aspect of our lives with the world.” He finally focuses on you. “Now that I’ve spent some time away from etherstreaming, I think I’m enjoying just being present. Maybe you should, too. Get away from all of these devices and just live in the moment.”

You search his eyes, waiting for him to laugh and say he’s joking. When he doesn’t, you reply, “No, I won’t let her win.”

“Fine!” BangLiveCake throws his hands up in the air. “My advice to you is to go to the Grand Library of Lore at the edge of town.”

You listen with rapt attention. “You want me to study some great work that will give me wisdom and guide me to victory.”

“No, moron. It’s a great place for an etherstream. No one’s done that before. It’s unique content, which is what your etherstreams need. Now get out of here.” He kicks you out and slams the doors behind you.

our victory over Cobra High was the perfect way to end the year. Not only were you hailed a champion by your classmates, but you started drawing the attention of new sponsors. And you wore their patches with pride. Then, at your graduation, your school’s orchestra even played a few dramatic measures when you ascended to the stage to receive your diploma. You curled it up, turned to the student body, and raised your diploma above your head like a weapon. The graduating class cheered and raised their fists in turn. The teachers in attendance simply shook their heads and rolled their eyes. You grinned back, but it quickly faded when you noticed your mentor was absent.

Now, a week later, a messenger drops off a summons from your mentor. You leave to meet him.

You enter your mentor’s temple like you have done almost every day for the last four years. Somehow, the environment feels too familiar and yet also foreign as your mind is already focused on university. In the rear of the temple, you see your mentor scurrying around as usual as he multitasks. Impressively, he’s cooking a meal, writing on parchment, folding laundry, and filing his taxes at the same time. His APM has always been incredible.

“Master Gosu,” you greet him with a solemn nod.

“Ah, Warrior,” he replies without looking up. You wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” you ask.

“For what?”

“Look, I got new sponsors.” You point at the newest patch on your arm from the Gold Piece Slash Club.

Gosu frowns. “Sponsors fickle. Leave when lose.”

“I’m also the Dueling Champion of the Kingdom,” you counter.

“Part of team champions.”

“Yes, but I was the one who won it for the team.”

“Team put you in position to win. Everyone do part.”

Irritated at not being adequately recognized for your individual achievement, you sigh. “Why did you summon me?”

Gosu tastes his meal and puts away a shirt before answering. “Want you continue training. Much learn.”

“I’m the champion,” you mutter. “I have nothing left to learn.”

Gosu suddenly stops moving around and stands disturbingly still right in front of you. “Nothing left learn?” he asks, placing one hand behind his back. “I show you. Defend!”

Suddenly, he’s all around you, pummeling you from all sides with just one hand. You can barely keep up with his attacks to deflect them, let alone counterattack. But then Gosu smirks and produces his other hand, staggering you over and over again by attacks you’re not fast enough to block.

In desperation, you attempt the FADC, but Gosu wags his finger in your face before throwing you to the ground. Dazed, you look up at your mentor standing over your crumpled body.

In an ancient tongue that only he understands, he intones, “Gee gee no ree.” Then he extends a hand to help you up. “Warrior, cannot succeed alone. Learn appreciate teammates.”

“How?” you ask, catching your breath.

“Travel Halls of Prima. You find Guides of Strategy. Now, go!” He pats the dirt off your shoulders before pushing you toward the door and going back to his tasks. You give him one final look before leaving.

The next day, you hire a horse-drawn Kărt to take you to the Halls of Prima.

As you climb into the back of the Kărt, the driver turns around and, in a cheery voice, asks, “Where are you headed?”

You tell her.

“No problem!” she exclaims, pulling out a map. “Now, the map says to take the main road, but I know a quicker way. Is that alright with you?” You nod. “Fantastic! You want some water? I have a canteen right here.” You shake your head. “How about some music?”

The driver nudges the man next to her, and he starts singing. You smile politely and the driver smiles back before snapping the reins and driving the horses forward.

After an hour, you arrive at your destination and exit the Kărt. The driver smiles at you big and hands you a card with five empty stars printed on it beneath the question “How was your ride?” On the back of the card is a mailing address. You pocket the card with a nod. The driver nudges the man next to her who stops singing, and they ride off.

The Halls of Prima are mostly empty. Its vast bookshelves are dusty from lack of use. Nevertheless, you pore over the guides, hoping to find what your mentor wanted you to learn.

The sound of movement suddenly draws your attention. You move toward it and discover a shadowy figure in the center of the halls facing away from you and standing over a giant tome. You approach.

The figure hears you and turns. It’s Johnny Rolento! He’s just as surprised to see you as you are to see him. His eyes narrow when he recognizes you.

“Looking for a rematch?” you ask, clenching your fist. Johnny simply turns his head up and looks down his nose at you. Then he walks past you, hitting your shoulder hard with his as he passes. You watch him leave before walking up to the guide he was reading. The title of the book is “The Alphabetized Guide to Fighting Strategies” and it’s been left open on the page for the “FADC”.

hen you finally got home after your encounter with the red-headed woman, your family didn’t berate you. Instead, they just expressed their disappointment in you. Frankly, you would rather have been yelled at than see your mother’s crestfallen face. Your parents hadn’t said much to you over the last few days, so you decided to talk to your mentor, Toy Wichman.

You find him at his workshop, adjusting his own augmentation suit. He sees your long face and gives you a commiserating nod.

“Hey, Kid. Parents still upset at you?”

“I wish they were upset,” you reply. “I’d rather they just yell at me and get it over with.”

“If that’s what you need, I can help,” Toy says, putting down his tools. You nod apprehensively. “OK, here goes. What you did was stupid. And you wasted a lot of people’s time. Not just your family’s time or my time, but your own time! What have I been teaching you all these years?”

“Time is money,” you mumble back.

“Exactly! What’s the point of being fast to save time when you just throw it away?”

“I thought I could get it and be back in time!” you explain.

“Get what?”

“It was a necklace that keeps you from getting drunk.”

“You’re not even old enough to drink!” Toy throws his hands up in exasperation. You’re both quiet for a long moment as you both absorb how silly your gamble was.

“Look, Kid,” Toy says with a softer tone, “you gotta understand that every decision you make has a cost. So, you gotta make smart decisions. Gambling with your mama’s hopes and dreams for something you don’t need and can’t use is not smart.”

You look down at your feet, wishing you could disappear into the ground.

“If there’s one thing you still have to learn, it’s how to properly value things.” Toy looks off into the distance before speaking again.

“Look, I get it. I spent a lot of my life chasing amulets in scary places, so I know where you’re coming from. And each time I did, it was always a new dungeon, but they always seemed the same, so I never felt like I was making any progress in life. Looking back, I can’t say any of that was worth it. I don’t want that for you.” He writes down something on a scrap of paper and gives it to you.

“What is this?” you ask, taking the paper.

“It’s a book I want you to read. It’s on sale at the used bookstore across town. I want you to get the book and read it. It’ll help guide you in life. Now get out of here.” The paper reads: “Defining Value”.

You give Toy a hearty handshake before hitchhiking to the bookstore. Outside, you’re surprised to see “going out of business” notices. No wonder the books are on sale. You’re about to enter the shop when a familiar voice catches your attention.

“Don’t you just love a good deal?” the voice asks. You follow it and look up at someone sitting on a wall next to the bookstore. It’s the red-headed girl who beat you to the necklace. Her black cloak waves dramatically in the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” you growl.

“Just a little light reading.” She motions to the book in her lap. She lifts it to reveal its cover which reads: “Defining Value”. That’s the book you were sent to buy. When she sees the look on your face she grins. “I’ll make a deal with you,” she says.

You cut her off. “Forget it,” you say, and you begin the long walk home. Again.