Chương 109: 106: Insta-Delete

Screening people for Emma took next to no time. None of the police officers, sheriff's deputies, EMTs, and firefighters lining up at the gate to join the enclave were Murder Hobos, and none of them appeared to have taken a mind-control class. The majority were straightforward fighter classes, typically low-level, and a few were still Unknowns. Once they became official members of the enclave, most of them turned right around and left, some to go back to work, some to collect their families.

Family members would need to be approved, too, but Emma had said they could be provisionally accepted until I returned. She'd also offered us a room in the core building to plan the search for Jules. Megan had gone to find Missy and David, while Pen had taken the dogs and Gus up to the conference room. Now Jack, Emma and I were heading to the core building. Jack had already told Emma about the Minor class, and they'd been brainstorming ways to get all the Unknowns and all the children into the System.

It would take time, but earlier in the day Aqi had hinted to Emma that it might get easier. Then Rodi hit him in the stomach, and he shut up. It sounded like the MIN team was expected to follow the same rules Chelsea said Ellie had to follow: no instructing the natives. Unfortunately, Emma couldn't try to coax him into revealing more because the MIN team hadn't returned from wherever they'd disappeared to.

"Hey, Chelsea," I said to the air.

"Can you tell us what Aquila was about to say?" Chelsea popped into existence next to me.

"No." She popped out of existence again.

"I still have questions," I called to the air. She popped back into existence.

"I'm very busy," she said, somewhat reprovingly.

"The pace of your messages has picked up again. You've got over ten thousand now." I closed my eyes, pained to the depths of my being.

"Please tell me they're all spam."

"Spam, spam…" Chelsea's expression went quizzical.

"Canned meat?"

"Junk mail," I clarified.

"Ah, no. Or perhaps. Hard to say really. I'm categorizing them as invitations, offers, requests, questions, proposals, and pleas. Then I'm trying to rank them according to urgency, immediacy, tone, quality, and a certain je ne sais quoi that we might call charm. Oh, and then there are the threats and the orders. Those are moving to the bottom of the pile, obviously, but I'm ranking them according to validity, clarity, and plausibility." The depths of my being got a little deeper.

"Are there a lot of those?"

"Not as many as there are marriage proposals," she said cheerily.

"A few of them sent pictures. Not the threats, the proposals. Shall I forward them to your HUD?"

"No, thank you." Jack and Emma, of course, could only hear my side of the conversation, so Emma helpfully said, "You can use the information screens on the ground floor to read your messages. Anyone can get messages there. Or you can use the administration screen in the big conference room, if you like."

"I don't like anything about these messages," I said, sounding just a little bitter. I was going to have to do something about my mother, too, which was a thought I'd been avoiding. But Jules first.

"Some of them are all right," Chelsea said.

"An awful lot of people are offering you money, though. It's a little odd. Monetary systems tend to collapse during integrations."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. By either of those pieces of information. But I still wanted to ask you about Aqi. Rodi stopped him from telling Emma something. But they're the Multiversal Information Network, right? So what's wrong with him giving us information? Isn't that what he's here for?"

"Fair distribution of information requires that all enclaves get the same information on the same timetable. Early interference can lead to long-term power inequities shaped by outside forces instead of internal growth," Chelsea rattled off the explanation like she was a bored lawyer reciting case law. I wanted to rant. Oh, I so wanted to rant. How the hell was the challenge scenario not early interference?

How the hell was it fair that less than 1% of the population had safe places to live while the rest of humanity was battling monsters? Instead I pinched the top of my nose. Chelsea pursed her lips.

"When the MIN team returns, assuming they pass their review, you might suggest that the six-part documentary on the history of the System created by the Multiversal Studies Institute would be an interesting offering on the information channel. Or not. Entirely up to you." She widened her eyes at me.

"Assuming they pass their review?" I got the message: the documentary would answer my questions. But I was more focused on the casual aside. She snorted.

"A newbie mistake, I suspect. Basic protocol for multiversal visitors includes a shield to deflect attacks without damaging the attacker. Killing inhabitants of the planet contravenes the intervention restrictions, especially in circumstances that might look like they're playing favorites. If the review board thinks they're interfering in local politics, they'll be kicked off planet faster than you could read your messages."

"It would take me hours, maybe days, to read all those messages."

"Yes. And for the Multiverse, that's extremely speedy. A bureaucracy created by immortals tends to take its time."

"Right. So if they get fired, do we still get our informational programming?"

"Fired!" Emma exclaimed. She and Jack had been listening to my side of the conversation as we walked.

"Would we lose our garden?" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Chelsea shrugged.

"No idea. Can I get back to organizing your messages now?"

"Nope," I said to Chelsea.

"No idea," I said in an aside to Emma. Then turning back to Chelsea, I said, "I'm going to search for Jules and Toby using the rifts along Interstate 10 in Texas. Can you make a map for me with the rifts, their identifiers, and any enclaves along the way?" Chelsea waved a dismissive hand.

"You thought about wanting that at least thirty minutes ago. It's done. You'll find it in your RMI when you return. Although you didn't think about the enclaves. I'll have to add those." She frowned.

"There won't be many, you know. Enclave distribution correlates with population density. In West Texas, you'll be lucky if there're any."

"How many rifts were there?"

"I limited the search by the route from Briar Hill to I-10, and then I-10 to Sonora, which is around the 100 mile limit, and then further constrained it to rifts within a mile of either side of the highway. There are three rifts within that area. If you'd like me to expand the range, another two are within five miles of the highway, and there are three more if you go farther west, to the Fort Stockton area." We'd reached the door to the core building.

The ground floor held a small crowd of people watching the wall screens. The show appeared to be a basic introduction to mana concepts, and I half wanted to stop and watch it myself. I needed to learn more about mana, especially now that I had the [Mana Conduit] ability.

Chelsea might have recommended the ability, but after using it once, it felt a little improvisational to me, as if it might always be my last-minute panic response and I'd be forever counting on my Serendipity stat to prevent it from being catastrophic. Which, you know, didn't seem like a great idea. I was fairly sure that in those books Jack was so fond of, the main characters trained. Practiced. Got good at their shit.

Me, I was just going with the flow, which, while it had worked out so far, didn't seem like the best long-term strategy. As usual, though, I didn't have the time, either to practice or to learn more about mana. In contrast to the last major worldwide disaster I'd survived, in which mind-numbing boredom turned out to be the worst part of the experience for a sizeable chunk of the population, this disaster was keeping me hopping.

Maybe after I found Jules, and saved my mom, and hooked up my solar panels, and checked on my bougainvillea… yeah, okay, I'd have time to learn more someday, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. The three of us—four, if we count Chelsea—made our way through the audience and headed upstairs. The shop on the second floor had expanded, too. More of the vending machines were lit up, and a sign on the counter read, "Coming Soon!"

"What do you suppose is coming soon?" I asked, aiming the question at Emma.

"A representative of a Multiversal Trade Association," Chelsea answered promptly.

"No idea," Emma replied a few seconds later.

"A sales clerk," I told her.

"Your assistant tells you stuff, doesn't it? Ours is a sanctimonious butthead," Emma declared. Jack snorted.

"I think he enjoys being mysterious." I glanced at Chelsea. She wobbled her hand back-and-forth.

"Trickster gods, remember? You might not want to mention this to them, but Jack's expectations of a System representative heavily influenced their pixie's development." I would absolutely not be mentioning that to them.

"You could let them know that your own unusual choices led to your pixie forming a slightly more deviant personality type." Chelsea put her hand on her chest, almost a bow, as if she were acknowledging her own awesomeness.

"Deviant?" I replied, raising my eyebrows.

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"Would you prefer alternative? Eccentric? Overly honest? Personal Interface Constructs reflect their owners." Jack and Emma were both watching me. They couldn't hear or see Chelsea, of course, but they could see me rolling my eyes.

"Back to the sales clerk…"

"Representative of a Multiversal Trade Association," Chelsea corrected me.

"Fine. Can you explain what they'll be doing and when they'll get here?"

"I don't know the answer to the latter. Applications should be flowing in. Getting a head start on planetary trade can be quite profitable and I'm sure Earth's early success is leading to all sorts of interest. That said, no one would have been prepared for this stage of the integration to arrive so quickly."

"Early success." I swallowed.

"That's just…"

"You, yes." Chelsea patted my arm.

"At the moment, all purchases through the System store require the use of System credits. But the MTA representative will be empowered to trade, so you'll be able to exchange resources for goods. Or goods for resources, as the case may be." Overall, that was probably good news, but I added it to my long list of Things Not To Think About, at least for the moment.

"We'll be able to trade for stuff, not just System credits," I told Jack and Emma.

"But it might be a while before someone shows up."

"Now may I get back to work?" Chelsea asked as we reached the third floor. I waved her off.

"Yep. Have fun. Don't accept any marriage proposals, please."

"How would you like me to rank the ones that send pictures of their genitalia?" Chelsea asked.

"Are those higher or lower on the je ne sais quoi scale? I find it a bit brash, myself, which I assume means—" I was already shaking my head.

"Just insta-delete. I don't need to see those."

"Dick pics?" Emma asked. I nodded.

"Am I glad that some things remain the same?" she asked rhetorically before shaking her head.

"Not so much." The third floor had changed, too. It had expanded in ways that made no real sense. Instead of the one room that I'd been in with Emma and Nat a couple of days ago, we were in a lobby. A ritzy corporation sort of lobby with a polished front desk and windows that overlooked the entire enclave, but not a lobby that should exist given the footprint of the building. The hallways that led off in two directions ought to be leading to, at best, balconies. Instead, they appeared to lead to rooms.

Emma gestured toward the right.

"I'm gonna go meet with the local team about logistics and what needs to happen around Harfield. If you need me, though, I am all yours." I looked away, uncomfortable with the intensity in her gaze. She stepped closer to me.

"Olivia, I mean it. When Sam… yeah. This entire enclave exists because of you. I know that. And if you need my help, you come first." I blinked away some very unexpected tears.

"We'll be okay. Take care of your town. But thank you." Jack had already started down the hallway to the left.

"Meg?" he called.

"In here," she called back. The conference room in which she, Pen, the animals, and Jack's parents sat was not as ostentatious as the place where I'd told Emma about children not expanding the enclave. The chairs were sleek leather instead of plush velvet, the table polished mahogany rather than crystal. But it was still more "billion-dollar financial firm" than "high-school board meeting."

"Olivia, how well do you know Texas?" Megan asked, before I even made it through the door.

"Uh, not that well. Galveston is lovely, a great place to camp, and their state parks are some of the best in the country, in my opinion. Beyond that, the Dallas airport is not a great place to get stuck in a thunderstorm, and Houston traffic sucks. What else do you need?" Megan didn't quite roll her eyes at me, but she made her restraint obvious.

"West Texas."

"Flat, boring, hellacious," I responded promptly.

"Okay, so we need a map," Megan replied.

"Do you have one or should we get the atlas from my mom's car?"

"I'm sure it's still there," Missy said.

"I can't imagine why it wouldn't be. It's been living under the passenger seat since we got the car." David huffed a chuckle.

"It's been living under a passenger seat since before we started dating." Missy tilted her head.

"Yeah, it's not exactly an up-to-date atlas. I've been carrying it around for the past twenty-five years or so. But I-10 hasn't changed."

"It shouldn't take me long to get it. I can hop into the rift and be at the parking lot in Spruce Gap right away." I'd have to walk back to the gate that I had literally just walked away from, but the Spruce Gap rift would be the second to last one on my HUD list, so it would still be easily accessible.

"It would be good to have a map," David said, sounding resigned.

"Let me go get it," I said.

"I'll be right back."