Chương 58: Confidentiality

Beth didn't question when I said I had a two-week workshop to attend. She knew this was part of getting justice for Jonathan without my saying anything. Given what she already knew, that math wasn't hard, but I was relieved that she played along willingly. I was still extra cautious and vigilant with her, however. My little sister had been crashing gates behind my back, after all. How many times did she tell me she had to work but actually went crashing? Had to be several instances for her to be level 3.

What else was she lying about? What if she was lying to me again? And how did I have that conversation with her while she actively grieved Jonathan's death? I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind. I had a mission to think about. Nathan said, "Bummer, dude," and moved on with the conversation when I told him about the workshop. Megan eyeballed me like she did that morning at the CDM, but outwardly she echoed Nathan's sentiment.

Lying to people I loved sucked, but I needed to accept that this was part of the job now. Enforcer McDouglas was right about libraries being dead. The computers on the first floor seemed to see a fair amount of traffic, but up on the third floor, where it was nothing but reference materials? A librarian passed through once a day, if that. I never saw a civilian. Not a one. I passed the time reading, starting with all the books on goblins Jonathan gifted me.

On day two of library-sitting, Beth texted me:"Mom is outside Frank's. I'm sure."

"Don't leave the shop. I'll take care of it." Just before I hit call on my mother's contact, I chickened out and texted instead. How pathetic was I? Here I was trying to takedown a high-level CKer, and I wasn't brave enough to call my own mom.

"Leave Beth alone. If she wants to speak with you, she will reach out. If you keep following her, I'll call the police and get a restraining order."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't do that. I drove by and saw you there. This stops now."

"Do you have any idea how hard this has been on me and your father? People think we're bad parents, that we didn't raise you right."

"Do you agree to stop following Beth or not?"

"You don't understand. We want to take both of you to the promised land. It's everything we always dreamed of, and it's happening soon."

"Neither of us are going to Canada with you."

"I told you you didn't understand! A prophet has appeared, and he is leading us to the promised land. Mister Rick Young. He used to be a crawler, so even you should like him." I had never heard of a crawler named Rick Young. That name was too generic for an internet search to pull up anything meaningful even with "crawler" appended to it. I tried again with the query "Rick Young promised land." The top result was a video named "Reformed crawler shares message from God!"

My first impression of him as he stood behind a podium was former military. He was gray and wrinkled, but he had the permanent hardness to his features and tone common to many veterans I had met. He wore a navy blue suit and a novelty tie of praying hands.

"For those of you who don't know me, my name is Rick Young," he began, referring to note cards frequently. The flashing lights of reporters covering the story went off intermittently as he spoke.

"When I reached level 27, I believed myself to be a god on Earth. I had the power. I had the wealth. I had the influence. But my life was hollow. I could never figure out why, nor could I understand why that hole never filled no matter what sins I crammed into it. Yesterday, during a revival ceremony at Pastor Jonathan Edwards' church in Clearwater, the Lord struck me down and gave me a vision.

"He laid bare the emptiness of my life. He made me look upon it. He made me face it. Then he spread his arms, and I saw a beautiful land. Snowcapped mountains. Rolling green fields. Forests filled with birds of every color. The Lord said to me, 'Rick, look upon the promised land. I have prepared you for this mission, and now I beseech you, answer my call and lead my people there. Guide them. Protect them. Clear the way so that the promised land can be filled with joy, laughter, and fellowship.'"

I couldn't watch anymore. Growing up immersed in that style of preachy speech made it hard to listen to anyone talking like Rick Young. Apparently, that press conference happened two days ago and had spread rapidly through church communities. Some of the reactions I read were more than skeptical, but the amount of support Rick Young already had was substantial. Presently, he was on his way to Washington D. C. where he intended to speak with the President.

The "promised land" was in South America, occupying what used to be Peru and Bolivia, and according to Young, the US government was divinely commanded to deliver the Lord's people there. Such a meeting hadn't been scheduled or confirmed. Instead, Young intended to stand outside of the White House for as long as it took to be heard. Using the strength God gave him, he would not be moved until the government agreed to support his mission. For all the other bullshit he was spewing, that part was the most true.

Level 27? Yeah, nobody was moving him unless he wanted to be moved. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. I returned to texting my mother:"South America looks nice. Travel safe."

"Is your heart still hardened?"

"Leave Beth alone, or the police will intervene. I'm turning off my phone now." A few minutes later, Beth confirmed my mother had driven away from Frank's shop. With any luck, she was on her way south.

"I hope the government does help him," Nathan said over pizza that night. Beth was already at work, and Megan got called in to close a gate. My work with McDouglas took me off the list temporarily. I hated missing out on XP, but this was more important. Way more.

"Why?" I asked.

"Bro, really? It's perfect. It fixes everything."

"Help me out here." Nathan dabbed some pepperoni grease with a napkin.

"Think about it. If a bunch of church communities straight up leave the continent, that means they aren't crashing or occupying gates. People still crash gates, I'm sure, but this big nightmare conflict could sputter out."

"Oh. Wow. You're right."

"Won't be cheap to boot up a whole new country, but the land is there. Monsters are a problem, sure, but this move helps that too. The doomers want gates and levels, and they'll have that, which means a few less gates for the rest of the world to worry about."

"Might actually be more cost-effective to do that than to fight them in court," I said.

"Exactly! It's a no-brainer, man. Anyway, how was that work training thing?"

"It's boring, but permadeath on that topic, please. I'd like to not think about it."

"Yeah, sure," Nathan replied, unbothered. I preferred that to lying to my best friend every evening for however long this took. His accepting my request so easily was a relief.

"You're still going out to old man wilderness training with Megan this weekend, right?"

"Yes," I answered. I didn't tell McDouglas what I did on Saturdays, but he told me not to change my routine in any major way, so if I usually did a thing on Saturdays, I should keep doing that thing. Opting not to tell him about wild monster hunting felt similar to the choices that got me into trouble with Enforcer Chapman. After all, he could call me in to meet crashers while I was all the way out there, and I'd have to say I wouldn't be able to get back to the city any quicker than a couple of hours.

Beth needed this apprenticeship, however. Unlike the debacle with Chapman, my motivation here wasn't my own levels. The Dungeon Divas sponsorship got Beth the opportunity, and that sponsorship would die if we didn't have new videos to upload. I wasn't violating a medical hold by hunting wild monsters, so I wasn't technically breaking any rules, but I still had to accept the risk of pissing off McDouglas. Maybe saying I was doing it to prepare for the Unsung Heroes would save me, which was his indirect advice.

I'd prefer it never to come to that, though.

"When you get to this dude's cave, think you'll go in?" Nathan asked.

"I don't know. Probably."

"Bad idea."

"Huh?"

"Haven't you watched any of those videos? Caving is crazy dangerous, man. This one kid crawled the wrong direction, got himself stuck upside down, and they couldn't get him out. They filled him with drugs to make him comfortable, and he died in there."

"I remember hearing something about that, yeah," I said.

"So maybe just don't go in? Safest that way."

"Did you and Megan have this conversation?" Nathan frowned.

"You know we did. She told me she 'would be careful,' and that was it. You're an overthinker, though. Getting stuck in a cave seems like something that would bother you."

"Are you weaponizing my hypochondria?"

"Not at all," he retorted, shocked I'd even suggest that was the case.

"This is one of the times where you're right to be super cautious."

"I promise not to recklessly cave dive."

"And?"

"I promise to try and keep Megan from recklessly cave diving."

"Thank you. This is me caring about you both. You know that, right?"

"Yes. I'm not offended."

"Good. I'll send you some videos to help you prepare."

"No, thanks," I said.

"Too bad. Oh, underwater cave diving is pretty damn scary too. I'll send you videos about that also."

"I don't know how to scuba dive."

"Don't care," Nathan replied.

"This one is wild. There was a body that had been underwater in this cave since the 70s, so these divers organized this big mission to get him and lay him to rest properly. Bro, two of the divers died trying."

"Please stop sending me these," I begged.

"This one is about some college kids who got lost in the catacombs in France and starved to death."

"Dude, please. No more videos."

"I need you to understand the true danger of caves."

"I understand." He shook his head.

"If that was true, you would be as passionate about this as I am."

"I agree that walking into a cave as a bunch of noobs is a bad idea. I promise not to do that."

"Still lacks the enthusiasm for self-preservation I'm looking for." I stood.

"I'm going to watch TV." Passing so much time in the library wasn't so bad. I wasn't excited about having nowhere to go and nothing to do, but I was surrounded by books. This part of the job might not be thrilling, but I could still make it productive. Sitting down with a stack of materials on local history, I was about to dig into colonial Pennsylvania when I thought of Rick Young and his vision to build a Christian nation in South America.

So instead of reading books, I aimlessly browsed internet commentary related to the story. Young's stand outside the White House lasted all of two hours. A group of senators lobbied hard for the government to hear him out and were successful. Supposedly, Young was with the president, discussing what the Lord told him to build.

That moment in time didn't feel real, but a significant portion of analysts echoed the perspective Nathan shared the night before: Supporting Rick Young's vision, as outrageous as it sounded, would resolve major conflicts that, thus far, seemed unresolvable. If my parents were already on board with the idea, that certainly solved at least one problem for me. I wondered if I should write my representative or something and ask them to expedite getting this done. I certainly had the time.