Chương 39: Survive First, Specialize Later

Zelda was mad at me. I didn't blame her, because I was committing a cardinal sin: I was outside without her. I'd come out to inspect the bougainvilleas in daylight. I'd been right last night when I thought they'd grown. They were taller, denser—still bougainvilleas, so still pretty with those gorgeous hot pink leaves, but almost more of a wall around the front yard than a hedge. It had to be [Verdant Sanctuary] in action, but I wasn't sure how useful it was.

The front yard was a relatively small portion of my territory, so to speak. For it to really be helpful, I needed it to spread around the house, the shed, the garage, the backyard. And was I really wishing for my bougainvilleas to spread? Oh, how times had changed. Meanwhile, I was on the verge of committing another cardinal sin. It was Day 3 of the apocalypse, and after a decent night's sleep—no lying awake at 3AM, anyway—I was going to take the rift tutorial and figure out what exactly I was dealing with.

And I was leaving Zelda behind. From the sunroom window next to the sofa, she barked at me.

"Guard the den," I called to her.

"It's your job right now. Guard the den." Bear's head popped up next to her. Her ear flick conveyed her scoffing. Guard den. I guard den. I kept my laughter internal so Bear wouldn't see it. I was sure neither Riley nor Bear realized Zelda was now tougher than them, and I was happy to keep it that way. But I was leaving Zelda behind because if something attacked, she had the best odds of keeping everyone alive. Level 16 meant something after all. I nodded at both dogs, then turned and stepped into the rift.

The moment of disorientation from the darkness was brief this time. Apparently, I was getting used to magically transporting between dimensions.

"Good morning," Chelsea greeted me.

"Are you ready to take your tutorial today?" She sounded a little like a teacher asking if I was ready to take the make-up exam; a mild reproof for the delay was implied.

"Yep." I wouldn't waste any time ranting to her about all the other things I could be doing: water barrels, generator, camping supplies, and so on. The sooner I got into it, the sooner it would be over. She waved toward a chair.

"Make yourself comfortable. This could take a while." She was not wrong. The first section was about visualizing and forming your Rift Management Interface. Apparently, most Class One Rift Keepers had to work a lot harder to create and maintain a usable interface. None of it was relevant to me: my RMI had arrived fully formed, no assembly required. The second section was even worse.

I paused the presentation in my HUD after about five minutes and said to System Chelsea, somewhat accusingly, "How come you didn't recommend any of these abilities?" The abilities in question were the so-called introductory rift-management abilities. Not [Invisible Armor] and [Analyze], but [Gate Formation] and [Rift Insight]. I hadn't seen any of them in the pastry case when I'd been looking at abilities.

"Most Rift Keepers already have the abilities they need to stay alive in a rift. They earn the title after years of fieldwork, reporting on and rating rifts. You skipped all of that. You're beginning at a much lower level, so you need to start with the basics. You don't even have a weapon skill."

"But you told me to pick Animal Communication for my skill."

"Yes, because you've effectively used your bond to defeat monsters, and your weapon is not one that a traditional weapon skill will benefit. You could use Improvised Weapons, but your skill would take years to catch up to the strength of your shovel."

"I didn't use my bond," I muttered, feeling sulky. That sounded terrible. Zelda fought because… well, instinct, maybe? The instinct to defend herself and her person?

"You need a healing ability, a mapping ability, danger sense, or something similar, a movement or stealth ability—so many options. Rift management abilities are far less important. Survive first, specialize later." I definitely wanted a healing ability. Letting the dogs come into the rift with me would be so much better if I could help them if they got hurt. Leveling up to heal could only take us so far. But I took System Chelsea's point. The rift management abilities and skills weren't my priority.

After that, the tutorial got confusing. It assumed I knew so much more than I really did. Obviously, it was aimed at the experts who'd already leveled up all those basic skills, and who'd spent years working in rifts. Most of them had probably been integrated into the Multiverse forever, too, and had grown up knowing the System. In other words, they spoke the language. I did not. Access points, mana density, stability ratings, instance windows, core management...

the words flew by in bullet lists of which I never understood more than a little. I tried to watch, but PowerPoint + bullet lists + unknown vocabulary added up to complete overwhelm. After twenty minutes, I closed the rift tutorial window and rested my head on my folded arms on the table before me, like a kid at quiet time. There'd been so many times in my life when the world felt overwhelming to me, and all of them paled before this one. Maybe they'd been practice.

Maybe years of learning to persist in the face of mental illness and trauma and grief had actually just been training for this moment, this time when despite everything happening, I would just keep going. Or not. I wasn't actually egocentric enough to think that somehow the universe had been preparing me to survive the apocalypse. Chaos didn't play favorites like that. Yet I'd still keep going. I sat upright and turned to Chelsea.

She was still standing behind the counter, wiping down the glass with a cloth towel like any normal barista pretending to keep busy.

"I don't understand this," I said, keeping it simple.

"It's all going over my head. I don't know enough to do this." Chelsea set the towel down and said, just as simply, "Then I'll help you." She came around the counter and sat down at the table across from me.

"Where should I begin?"

"At the beginning?" She laughed.

"A very good place to start." I blinked. She'd given that sentence a lilt, almost singing it. But before I could interrogate her on her apparent familiarity with Rodgers and Hammerstein, she moved on.

"The Multiverse is immense. It includes hundreds of millions of planets, although the exact number is always in flux. There are multiple forms of transportation between planets, including teleportation, interstellar craft, dimensional portals, even simple flight for those who can survive in the vacuum of space."

"For those who can what?" I interrupted her, squeaking on the last word. Surviving in a vacuum should be flat-out impossible, except maybe for intelligent machines. She smiled.

"Magic is powerful. At higher levels, you'll be astounded by what people are capable of. But rifts are one of the primary forms of connection between planets." Okay, I'd let the surviving in vacuum go for now. It was obviously not immediately relevant. So I nodded to the door.

"But my rift connects to a world of bugs?" Chelsea's lips twitched, not quite a smile.

"Best not to speak disparagingly of them. Many sapient species in the Multiverse evolved from insects. But yes, Rhesca, the planet on the other side of your rift, is an undeveloped planet, populated by insects and with no sapient lifeforms."

"How big do they—no, never mind." I waved off my own question before I could finish it. I didn't want to know.

"Rifts are interstitial spaces. They exist between the worlds they connect. During System integration on a low-mana density world such as Earth, thousands of rifts are forcibly opened in order to expedite mana flow from high-mana density worlds." Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does the System, the Multiverse, do such a destructive thing?" I swallowed. There was a note in my voice I didn't like. I wanted to have a nice, rational, productive conversation with Chelsea, where she told me the things I needed to know. Ranting at her wouldn't help. Chelsea paused.

"The practical reason is that the System requires mana to function, and the rifts are how it gets it. The more philosophical response belongs to the question you didn't ask: why so many, why so fast?" I waited. She was right. That was the real question.

"Back when Earth was just a ball of lava, the System was already integrating planets. Fast integrations are hard on individuals, but have a higher probability of overall success."

"How does the System measure success?" I tried really hard to keep my voice even, but that note was still there. Productive conversation, I reminded myself. No ranting.

"It varies. Species survival is a big one. Obviously, if the System can't slow global warming and your planet turns into nothing but big deserts and dead oceans, we'd call that a failure. If the System manages to repair Earth's environment such that what remains of its species are capable of thriving, it would be a success. Truly successful integrations, though, also produce future citizens of the Multiverse." Future citizens of the Multiverse? Why did I think that probably meant taxes?

Ingrained American cynicism about government, I guess. In a better world, it might mean health care, education, opportunities for all. It probably meant taxes.

"Back to the rifts," Chelsea said. I nodded. Yep, let's get back to today's problem. I'd worry about tomorrow's taxes if and when I ever got there.

"Throughout the Multiverse, people harvest rifts in order to gain experience and levels, as well as resources and rewards."

"Harvest? Like with crops?" Chelsea waggled her hand yes-no.

"Maybe we should start with basic rift terminology, the kind of thing you'd already know if you'd been born on an integrated planet."

"The stuff I'd learn in kindergarten?" My voice was dry.

"The vocabulary of a foreign language," Chelsea said gently. She was probably nicer to me than I deserved when what I really wanted to do was yell and scream and be bitchy.

"But you didn't and I'm not," Chelsea replied, her voice just as dry as mine had been. Oh, right. She could read my mind. I could probably stop asking her questions entirely and just think them at her. Her smile was faint.

"Back to the lesson. Every rift is formed around a core, a mana construct that shapes the rift's appearance and attributes."

"Rifts have attributes?"

"Not like your attributes, no. I'm referring to the contents of the rift. The landscape, the monsters, any puzzles or traps, the resources and loot, that kind of thing. The rift core determines the nature of the rift."

"Got it."

"Rifts have gates, at least two, sometimes many. They mark the spot where the rift connects to a planet." So that thing in my backyard was a gate, really. Maybe I should put up an archway around it to make it look more like one.

"Many of the rifts currently on your planet released monsters onto Earth when they opened. That's referred to as a flood, and it may happen again when the System needs to increase the mana flow to Earth." She said it so pragmatically. I thought back to the monsters I'd seen while watching TV and swallowed.

"Individual rifts may also overflow independently, when the mana level inside them hits a certain level."

"Which is when?" I interrupted her. Chelsea gestured to the chalkboard.

"Tier Progress 100%. The amount of mana varies between rifts but when the progress hits 100%, the rift is saturated, and it will either overflow—spewing monsters out through the gates—or tier up."

"Tier up?"

"Tiers are rated according to the levels of the creatures inside. A Tier 1 rift, like the one in your backyard, has monsters up to Level 10. Tier 2 rifts go up to Level 20 and so on." And so on. Did that mean Level 30? Level 40? Level 100? Nope, I didn't want to know. That could be just one more thing on my ever-growing list of things to worry about later.

"Rift Keepers usually earn their positions by harvesting instances, clearing rifts, and submitting rift reports and ratings to the System. When a Rift Keeper claims a wild rift, it becomes referred to as tame."

"A wild rift isn't any different than a tamed rift, though, is it?"

"Intrinsically? No. But tamed rifts should be managed. Their attributes are known, any changes are recorded, and their Rift Keepers ensure that they're used appropriately. For example, encouraging alchemists into rifts with rare herbs, miners in those with ample ore. The Rift Keeper is expected to know what resources are available within their rift." Bugs. Bugs were available within my rift. I'm sure someone would find them useful. Not. Chelsea frowned, but continued.

"The Rift Keeper also ensures the rift is regularly harvested to prevent overflow or tiering up. Or managing the overflow if that's desirable." Managing the overflow. So the overflow would be an invasion of bugs? Into my backyard? I pictured those giant roaches swarming my house. I might have gone pale.

"I selected your rift quite carefully, to—""Wait, wait." I interrupted her, putting my hand up, fingers wide to say stop. She'd given me roaches on purpose? Deliberate roaches? Intentional roaches?

"You selected my rift?" Chelsea nodded.

"There was a bit of an uproar happening about the concession granted to your dog. By comparison, moving a rift from a few hundred miles away instead of simply re-locating the closest rift was relatively trivial." She sounded almost smug, definitely pleased with herself.

"You gave me roaches?" It was probably not the right question. Maybe the nearest rift was populated by those plague-ridden zombies or something. But even so, roaches couldn't possibly be the best of all monsters to have in your backyard. If I ignored the rift, I could someday get killed by an apex predator cockroach. How disgusting would that be?

"Roaches?" I repeated. Chelsea folded her arms across her chest.

"I gave you gasoline. I gave you ice. I gave you—" She unfolded her arms and started ticking items off on her fingers.

"—first aid supplies, groceries, dog food, bottled water. Diapers, for heaven's sake. Do you know how many mothers are going to be desperate for diapers in the near future? Donuts!" She leaned across the table and glared at me.

"I gave you donuts. You should be thanking me, not complaining." She was right.

"Thank you," I said without hesitating. Not that I cared about diapers or donuts, but I did care about dog food. Back when I'd been lying awake, contemplating what was happening to the world, I'd been trying not to think about supplies. We'd be fine for a while, maybe a month or longer, but what then? Here was the awful calculation: if a huge chunk of the population died, I could probably feed the dogs for years from a single warehouse trip. The more people died, the easier it would be to find resources.

The more people survived, the harder the struggle would become, at least in the short-term. It was miserable math, but Chelsea had just pointed out that I would never have to worry about it because of the rift she'd given me. She was right; I should be grateful, and I was.

"Roaches are fine," I told her earnestly.

"Roaches are great. I will love the roaches."

"And you will loot the roaches, right?" Chelsea said, still glaring.

"What?"

"You didn't even bother to loot the monsters you killed yesterday. How do you expect to earn the credits you'll need to buy more skills and supplies if you don't even pick up the loot?" I blinked at her. And then, in a small voice, I said, "I forgot." It hadn't even occurred to me. They were roaches. Bug goo, by the time I was done with them. I wasn't gonna touch that bug goo. Bad enough that it splattered on my invisible armor.

"I think I need some gloves," I said.

"Well, you could buy some gloves if you had some credits, which you'd have if you bothered to loot the monsters you killed."

"Where would I get them? Actually, wait. Credits? Am I supposed to sell the loot somewhere? Isn't it all protein bars and dog treats?" Chelsea's eye roll was subtle, but not subtle enough to miss.

"Loot within the challenge scenario represented possibilities, not everything you'd ever find. As for selling, every enclave has a System shop."

"But I don't have an enclave. I don't even know where the nearest enclave is."

"Ocala. But… well, no matter. I can handle your transactions for you."

"No matter?" She pursed her lips.

"The recipient of the Ocala enclave key does not appear to be making the best choices. That enclave may fall. In which case, the nearest enclave would be Sanford." I took a very deliberate breath. And then I switched to square breathing for a minute. Three in, three hold, three out, three hold. I couldn't save the world. I was going to be doing great if I managed to save myself and my dogs. And maybe that cat that had invaded my house. Worrying about people in Ocala was counterproductive.

Three in, three hold, three out, three hold. Okay. In as even a tone as I could muster, I said, "You can handle transactions for me?"

"Yes. You collect it, I'll sell it to the System shop. I only have access to the lowest level of supplies, though. A System shop in an enclave is a window to the Multiverse, but me?" She shrugged.

"The basics, only."

"What are the basics?"

"Rations, fresh water, common weapons and armor, that kind of thing. You shouldn't need any of that. But the health potions might come in handy." Health potions for purchase? I would loot all the bug guts in the world for a steady supply of health potions.

"Excellent news," I said, with what felt like my first genuine smile of the day.

"So what else do I need to know about rifts?"

"I don't think you can learn everything today. And you might learn better by just doing."

"Killing bugs, you mean?" Chelsea gestured at the chalkboard. The details had changed slightly on my one-and-only rift. Tier 1 Progress: 16% Current instances: 0. The progress had dropped by 2%. Was that because of all the bugs we'd killed?

"If the progress dropped by 2%, does that mean I need to kill eight times that many roaches to clear it?"

"Probably," Chelsea said with a level of cheer that she wouldn't have had if she'd been the one covered in bug goo.

"Rifts are instanced. Do you understand what that means?"

"Vaguely. It's sort of like everyone gets their own copy of the unreal thing, right?" Chelsea seemed momentarily puzzled, then said, "Close enough. A rift can support multiple instances concurrently. When you enter it, you enter a single instance. If you fully harvest the instance by reaching the rift core and collecting the instance reward, the rift's tier progress will be lowered by some percentage. Two percent on a partial harvest probably means a full harvest is 5% or so.

So you might need to harvest three instances to bring the progress to 0%, which is the point at which you can fully claim the rift." I looked back at the chalkboard. 16% was gonna be a lot of bugs. Chelsea leaned forward.

"Since you've asked me for information, I feel comfortable telling you that it would be an excellent idea to clear your rift." I was totally investing in bug spray. I could probably find it at the Dollar General, in fact.

"You should look." Chelsea's smile held a hint of mischief.

"But you should kill the bugs, Olivia. Kill all the bugs, and then kill them some more."