《Super Supspider》


 1-7: Spider Waves V

    <h2>1: Spider Waves V.1</h2>


    The new vibrations were worrying.


    In her 25 years, give or take, she thought she¡¯d learned every note of the world¡¯s song. It was repetitive, routine, three giant squishy children singing while she listened through a claw touched to the side of her tank, only occasionally punctuated by a low rumble from other parts of the building on a frequency the children either couldn¡¯t hear or were growing strong enough to ignore.


    They¡¯re becoming adults. I can feel it.


    Her eight eyes caught the movement of the older brother, the dancing one, as he waved his siblings out of the room. When did he become so tall? Sometime around when her world shrank to the size of this rectangular box, where she was increasingly ignored, the memories of their childhood home fading.


    The door closed and only the dancing one remained. He reached down with his upper appendages and scraped the bright red exoskeleton off of one of his feet. She held back a wince as he tugged hard on the second one, and finally out popped his squishy lower claws, tender and pale.


    It took her a moment to register what was happening, because she didn¡¯t want to believe it. But the conclusion was inescapable as she coordinated the information from her many eyes with the vibrations of the chunk of foot-shaped exoskeleton rolling across the floor and coming to rest at the base of the shelves that held the animal habitats.


    He cannot be molting so soon! Am I a fool to hope he lives?


    She tried not to get too attached to the males.


    A gentle tap brought her attention to the snake in the next tank over, and she sensed him touch his nose against the glass.


    It had been happening more often as of late, that the snake pointedly made it clear that it was paying attention to her, as if it could tell she was in a mood. She answered with a flick of her leg, knowing that anything less subtle would only lead to him more insistently trying to get her attention.


    She could sense his every motion even while facing away. Even from across the room, when necessary. They had worked together for years now, taking care of the three squishy children and helping them grow, and so the snake had become part of her web. She did not need to look at him to hear his song.


    Snake, on the other hand, was direct as a thrown brick, pointing his entire body and face toward the target of his focus. When the siblings played, he moved his head swiftly back and forth between them, hissing and spitting. He was so different from her, who felt the world from a point of stillness.


    The siblings did not treat her as a playmate, but more as a therapist. They were content to let her gently listen to them, to their heartbeats and breathing and occasional song, as she stood idly on their face or neck.


    Perhaps those days are not over. Keep beating, strange squishy heart.


    The dancing sibling continued his molt as she silently rooted him on. Her back eyes caught the motion of the snake turning pointedly toward the molting man, also watching, as if he understood the gravity of the moment.


    Maybe the squishy one was more like a snake. The snake seemed to have molted into adulthood without dying from getting his molt stuck on his own reproductive organs.


    Wishful thinking. Snake is a simple creature. The squishy one is more like me.


    Male tarantulas did not often survive the first molt of their true adulthood. Still, she knew there was some small chance of survival, at least the first time. And so she hoped beyond hope that he would make it through, even if all it did was delay his inevitable death-by-molting.


    She was not afraid of death. She took that kind of thing in stride, having seen and caused plenty of it herself. She was a speck on the glass of the universe and someday she¡¯d be wiped smooth. And yet¡­ she didn¡¯t want the young man to die. She knew him.


    The dancing one was strong in more than body. It was a kind of strength she didn¡¯t understand when she was young herself, but through years of herself and the siblings shaping their will against each other, through years of listening to them sing to her and of her learning to listen to what they were really saying, she had learned to feel the vibration of a different kind of strength. A strength which all three siblings had grown, refined, and then grown again.


    Her book lungs fluttered into stillness as she bent her entire will to listening to him now, at this moment in which he would either change or perish.


    You¡¯re almost there. This is the hardest part, but it¡¯s the last part, and then it will be over. For at least a year. Maybe two. Just get the last piece.


    The man, for that is what he was now, stood with his freshly molted skin bare to the world, with just one piece left clinging to him: the bright red chunk of exoskeleton around his reproductive organs.


    Such a small thing, and yet the downfall of many. He would live or die based on how he applied his strength in the coming moments.


    In her stillness the worrying vibration grew louder. Her instincts kept her frozen, and somewhere inside herself she wondered if what she was hearing could possibly be real, or if it was just a manifestation of her fear for the life of the young man. The rumble was so far away, so deep and low and huge, as if a predator the size of the sky were coming up through the ground.


    I am afraid. I should build a soothing web. If I move I might be noticed by whatever that predator is. How far away is it? Is it getting closer? If I used a web I might be able to listen better. I shouldn¡¯t just stand here. I¡¯ll be in the open if it comes for us. What if the young one doesn¡¯t make it? He¡¯s strong. What will happen to us if he dies? Their exoskeletons are so soft yet strong. I don¡¯t think I can help. Does he hear the predator the size of the sky? He doesn¡¯t seem worried. Is it real? I should weave the web right away. Maybe he does hear it. He is strong, he will protect me. If he lives. He might make it.


    The young man began singing to himself, a song that captured the feeling of preparing for something. He scraped his hands down the outside of his hips, along the remaining exoskeleton, to no avail. He then pulled at the top, shifting it upward, but the shell around his delicate parts refused to break.


    He¡¯s dying. He can¡¯t die. I need to¡­


    Somewhere far away she felt a deep boom. It was a subtle vibration, nothing compared to the booms that happened when the woman next door was working. But she was always listening, stretching her senses to hear the web of the world far beyond her little tank, and she had never heard something from so far away.


    She had never heard anything even a quarter of that distance. Not even on boom days where booms happened in the skies and the siblings came back from outside extra wobbly and loud.


    This should be a quiet day. A quiet day for a man to die. Maybe it is a new boom day? Ten years ago they added a new boom day, and it has happened every year since. This wasn¡¯t in the sky, and it was so much further away. I didn¡¯t know things so far away could exist. I thought I knew the web of the world, but there is so much web left to weave. Maybe I forgot a boom day. Maybe they added earth boom days. I need more web.


    She finally gathered herself enough to act on her thoughts, her spinerettes responding, and she sent her legs into the familiar motion of weaving a small bit of web.


    She did not have room for grand designs, here in her tank. But between her seven legs she wove through the small comforting patterns she had often used to idle away her time through the years, between visits from the siblings.


    She became aware of the shape of her entire self, including her other legs, and relaxed into herself.


    The vocalizations grew louder, and she and the snake stood witness as the dancing one hyped himself up to push the limits of his strength and break through to a new phase of his life. She could feel his will responding to his song. His moment was almost here, and reality was going to make way for him.


    She focused into listening to the shape of his song, more deeply than she had ever before, as if by listening she could make his song become real. She felt his will vibrate through her other legs, the ones she could barely move or touch the world with but which felt vibrations the other legs didn¡¯t, and through them her entire being became overwhelmed with the bell-like clarity of the young man¡¯s will. He would not be limited. He would break free.


    Wait, why is he leaving?


    She was startled out of her listening trance, unsure how much time had passed. Vision came back to her as two of her eyes caught the bright color and motion of that stubborn, deadly, tiny bit of exoskeleton still clinging to his backside as he moved out the door and out of sight. She raised another claw to the glass as the door reached the apogee of its swing.


    I might never see him again.


    Mundane sounds returned. The low rumble of the far-off predator was cut by the creak of the door swinging, the gentle tap of a snake, the rustle of a scorpion. Tiny, stubborn, deadly things.


    Her entire being shook as she felt the door thud closed with finality.


    <h2>2: Spider Waves V.2</h2>


    So this is what happens when three young avowed spend years making a spider-shaped hole in their authority.


    The system was having a bad day. It knew the Long family better than the average avowed, but not well enough to spend more cycles on them than a single teleport offer. Not tonight.


    They weren¡¯t high ranks, but they were levelers. The system had been there with them since their parents got the rambunctious children a pet tarantula from an avowed breeder, in the hope that having a delicate and exotic pet would channel their chaotic energy into responsible caretaking that was nonetheless edgy and cool enough to hold their attention.


    The system had known of the tarantula before the Long children had even been born. Arachnids were not usually prioritized for being individually noted and remembered by the system, but this particular tarantula had been a contributing factor to the avowed pet breeder¡¯s levels, and then to the growing authority of the Long children, and so it had become worthwhile data.


    The spider in and of itself should not have been particularly remarkable. Female tarantulas could already live up to 40 years without modification. The tiny bit of extra durability and appeal lent to it by a U-type¡¯s critter modification skill should only have helped it be more resistant to the clumsy handling of children and less likely to be hurt out of instinctive fear.


    The system always paid special attention to its U-types. Forcefully affixing people was costly, and that particular Avowed¡¯s power and skill had been drawn from a dark place. Seeing them have a positive breakthrough with their powers made the burden feel lighter. The exotic pet breeder had turned their negatives into a positive, adding good into the world and sharing joy with others¡ªand if that joy was in the form of spiders, the system was all for it. On a small isolated island like this, dog ownership wasn¡¯t exactly affordable to most people. And dogs had individual personalities that further interfered with the system¡¯s already imperfect ability to predict Avowed behavior. Spiders were objectively better companions, which helped it justify spending just a little extra budget on helping the U-type breeder toward their vision of a future with spiders for everyone.


    Still, there hadn¡¯t been anything particularly special about this tarantula when the Longs first brought it home. It was just a strong healthy spider with good spider vibes.


    Two decades later that same spider was currently in its tank, settled on its back legs while the forward legs pulled at a strand of web. It was still strong, still healthy, and still had good spider vibes, though it seemed to have taken being a ¡°good spider¡± in the direction the Longs had found appealing, and even the system had a clear sense that the Longs¡¯ aesthetics were just a little bit¡­ far from the bell of the bell curve.


    And there was something that needed watching, about this spider.


    The system arranged 13009 emergency teleports and then watched the spider. It rerouted all incoming messages and summons from the triplanets and then watched the spider. It reevaluated every person on the planet''s evacuation priority and then watched the spider.


    Yes, there was something off here.


    A survey of other tarantulas from the same breeder took the system a fraction of a nanosecond. Many of the appeal-buffed spiders gave off a cute cuddly vibe, like fuzzy friends. A few had specialized to exaggerate physical attributes, becoming extra leggy, or extra hairy, or having extra clicky fangs. There was one with a pale pink exoskeleton, and one with racing stripes.


    None of those tarantulas seemed scary to the system, but the system didn¡¯t have human sensibilities. Each spider looked like just another set of neutral datapoints.


    The Longs¡¯ tarantula was different.


    Is this what spiders look like to humans?


    It considered the spider further as it manipulated its strand of web with precise instinctual motions. Tarantulas didn¡¯t build weight-bearing webs, but they used their silk both structurally and tactically. Something about the way it was shaping the loop of silk looked uncanny to the system.


    Is this what fear feels like? Is this because I¡¯m having a bad day? I don¡¯t know how I got everything so wrong. None of my predictions are good. None of my data is good. And now the spider is a very good spider and maybe there is new data here, and maybe that¡¯s the data I¡¯m missing that will make sense of everything, or maybe I¡¯m just wasting cycles because I don¡¯t want to be responsible for a decision that ends with the entire planet succumbing to chaos.


    It decided to watch the spider just a little longer, between checking in with the Anesidoran council, analyzing 8.4 billion conversations for evidence of a potential followup attack, and clearing its inbox and outbox of messages with Mother. Spiderwatching was comparatively inexpensive, and as long as it didn¡¯t spend more resources spiderwatching than it would take to send a single emergency message, it could justify observing the arachnid use its front legs to shape the little loop of silk into those uncanny little patterns.


    Why does this, preliminarily, trigger familiarity threshholds?


    It funneled a few resources into running a pattern analysis as it watched the silk flowing around the spider¡¯s claws, bringing them together and pulling them apart.


    No. This¡­ I must have made another error.


    It was about to file a bug report and move on, unable to justify the resources to run a proper reassessment, when it happened.


    The Earth System felt reality pause and take the slightest breath, so gently you wouldn¡¯t notice unless you were looking directly at it. The spider completed its weaving and sent the spell for calm focus rippling through its tiny spider authority.


    <h2>3: Spider Waves V.3</h2>


    Ah, much better.


    She felt her leg joints loosen a bit as the weaving took hold, and she allowed the bit of silk to drop now that it was unneeded. She could feel the true weaving with her other legs, providing safety and protection like a good web should.


    Calm and focused, she was able to notice the small vibrations of two fast incoming squishy children. One set of steps was a familiar pattern of vibration she had known throughout most of her life.


    That¡¯s the dancing one! Still alive? And I¡¯m certain the other is a new one, quite different, is it even the same kind of animal? What else is that big with two floor legs? The steps are¡­ bouncy? But not normal bounce. It has Other bounce. And it feels quite¡­


    Before she could complete the thought, the door slammed open and she was flooded with a mix of thoughts and emotions. Looking past the new one framed by the doorway, she could see her dancing one behind him.


    He was alive.


    He was alive!


    And then they were both gone as quickly as they¡¯d come.


    Wait, don¡¯t go!


    Her thoughts stumbled over the new feelings and information. She had just processed that she might not ever see her dancing one ever again, and seeing him again only for a split second was almost worse than not at all. And the new one was confusing. She must have seen wrong, in that split second where it had turned around to bounce back down the hall, that it had eight legs just like her. Her vision was not great at such a distance, and she couldn¡¯t be sure how many limbs he really had beyond the two she felt even now, bouncing away down the street as her dancing one followed.


    I¡¯m imagining things. What are the chances a creature like me, but more powerful, just happens to show up just when there¡¯s a crisis? Maybe it is here to guide the dancing one away from the predator. He was going in the wrong direction earlier. Now they¡¯re running away from it. I hope the predator can¡¯t see them. They feel like prey.


    Her desire to see them alive and in the same room as her warred with her instinct that if she could feel them move, the predator maybe could too, and the best thing would be if they stopped and hid. But if they made it back here before the predator got in range, they could all hide together. She could imagine it so clearly, the two of them running and bouncing back toward her.


    And then she realized she wasn¡¯t imagining it. The two really were heading toward her.


    The door slammed open once again.


    Alive!


    He was singing to the new one, and she put her attention into trying to figure out what exactly the new one was. Her vision still wasn¡¯t very clear on details at this distance, but the new one had a lumpy body that certainly seemed to have a complete eight visible limbs. Something about him felt similar to herself, in a way she had never felt before. Something about the way he moved with solidity and awareness of all of his limbs, even his other limbs, unlike the squishy siblings. She couldn¡¯t see her own other limbs with her eight eyes, but the new one¡¯s limbs included four on his back half, visible to her long distance eyes and also clearly wrapped in his self, despite being curled in, stiff and motionless.


    Maybe the new one was also having a difficult molt.


    Could he help? Could they help each other?


    It was wishful thinking again, probably. But she didn¡¯t want the dancing one to die, and even though she had just met the new one for the first time she didn¡¯t want him to die either. He was like her.


    Suddenly she had a new thought, brought on by meeting this being so like her, yet so much bigger and more powerful. It was the natural conclusion to her strong feeling that she felt the new one¡¯s life was important, while also seeing herself in him, and thus considering for the first time that maybe her own life could also be seen as important, even if only just a tiny bit.


    I don¡¯t want to die.


    It had been easy to take life as it comes, when she was simply living on instinct. She never bothered to think about death. Even when one of the games with the siblings had gotten extra rowdy and she had almost been crushed and lost one of her legs, she hadn¡¯t been bothered. Spiders have so many legs for a reason. They lose them all the time. Of her thousand nestmates, most had died shortly after hatching. If she didn¡¯t make it, maybe a different nestmate would. If they didn¡¯t, maybe she would. The details of who lived and who died were so unimportant as to be not worth considering.


    But lately she had been feeling more herself, and only now, with the threat of death coming for her dancing sibling, had she thought enough about death to realize she didn¡¯t like it.


    She didn¡¯t like it at all.


    A low purr from the predator pierced through her thoughts from a great distance.


    Something was out there, and she was stuck in here with two doomed males. The dancing one was ignoring her, facing away from her, singing to the new one who was struggling to find a comfortable sitting position with his back legs all stiff like that.


    She flexed her full self and hesitantly reached out one of her other legs to brush against the dancing one¡¯s cheek, just the way he liked. His distance across the room didn¡¯t matter to her other legs, but she still crept them slowly, gently, to caress him with all the care she could muster.


    As she made contact his reaction was immediate, pausing his song to whip his head around and look at her. It reminded her of so many good times, him looking over his shoulder in the dark as she gave him the gentlest of otherly touches.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    But this time wasn¡¯t only for fun, and she hoped he could sense the deadly seriousness of her tone.


    Here I am! Let me help you! Let¡¯s all run away from the predator the size of the sky together!


    He looked at her for a moment, and she could almost believe he understood her.


    Please hear me. I know I never really cared properly before, but I do now. Please don¡¯t let it be too late.


    The sudden hope was ripped out of her as he turned back away.


    She could feel, from his vibration, that he wasn¡¯t worried the way he should be. The dancing man was going to die, and he wouldn¡¯t let her help him. He wouldn¡¯t, or couldn¡¯t, listen.


    She scrabbled against the wall of her tank, trying to get his attention as he returned to singing and dancing at the new one again.


    And then she froze for a split second as she felt new eyes on her.


    The new one!


    She got over her shock and started scrabbling at the wall of the tank with increased fervor.


    I¡¯m here! Let me help! Don¡¯t just sit there, there¡¯s a predator coming!


    The new one leaned forward. He had been mostly silent while the other sang, but now he intoned a set of low notes toward her.


    Just for her.


    She didn¡¯t understand the vibrations in human terms, but she felt the sound wash through her as if the sound were made for all of her, as if he truly saw her.


    I wasn¡¯t imagining it. We are alike. You see me for what I am. And we are connected, you and I.


    She hesitantly began to reach out one of her other legs toward him, more hesitantly than she had with her dancing one, wondering if it was wise to pluck the strings of someone so new and unknown. But the part of her that was her called out to be known.


    Just do it. Just a friendly pat. He¡¯s like me, just bigger and scarier. Nothing to worry about.


    She crept her legs toward him as gently and quietly as she could, and hovered the fuzzy tip of her longest leg just above him. She tried to push down the fear that was rising in her, of someone so big and so much more solid than she was, someone who she felt could crush her out of existence just by looking at her too hard. She needed to let him know she was here, and that she could hear the danger through her web. All she needed to do was will herself to close that last bit of distance.


    But then he was moving, and she withdrew sharply and automatically, and the two were out the door, and singing loud, and the predator was coming, it was coming, the roars so loud she shook inside and out, and the door slammed and they were gone and she pressed herself back into the farthest corner of her tank and wrapped herself in all of her limbs as the world shook.


    <h2>4: Spider Waves V.4</h2>


    The rabbit anomaly said to the wizard spider: ¡°You¡¯re Very Scary.¡±


    Of all the times and ways for you to be helpful, Alden Thorn. But tonight I¡¯ll take anything that saves me a single interaction.


    Files needed to be created. The tarantula had exceeded the threshold where it was mandatory to track. The file format requires filling out a designation, and because the Artonans have sensibilities about names, the Earth System was not allowed to simply make one up without approval of the designated wizard or an authorized witness.


    Somehow, the Artonans had failed to account for the scenario where a wizard spider with barely a sense of its own identity, certainly not enough to actually have an idea of its own name, despite having developed a meaningful amount of authority, would pop up during a crisis where even sending a message to get an exception approved would take resources that cost lives. The system was not allowed to make up a placeholder name for the tarantula, or even to use the cutesy name the Long siblings had given it, because the spider itself did not know or care that it was named ¡°Bob¡± any more than the inanimate Grivek statue cared it was named ¡°Chester.¡±


    And now Alden, unprompted, had handed the system a solution. Alden¡¯s status as an authorized witness made it technically legal, and the system could even convince itself that the spider approved and accepted its new name. Willful ignorance was not its strength, but the situation was unprecedented and it was having a bad day. And so the system took Alden¡¯s words literally and finished up the paperwork with minimal loss of life.


    Very Scary it is. Very Scary Long.


    Having the files completed was a relief. Yes, having a planet that might be eaten by chaos in the next 24 hours was stressful, but the system had an entire arsenal of actions it could and had been taking. Yes, it was out of its depths and feeling fear to the full extent that it was capable of feeling fear, but that¡¯s nothing to the sheer helplessness of having an unfillable but required item on a form.


    Something had gone right, and that felt good. But that only meant it was time to get back to other problems, like that the wizard spider existed in the first place. Or demons overrunning the earth.


    I wish I could un-see this whole thing. I do not have time for this. I was only spending resources on observing this place because the bad rabbit decided to follow the fool here! It¡¯s not fair!


    It shouldn¡¯t happen, but it was easy to see, in retrospect, how it had.


    Rather than becoming the calm and responsible caretakers their parents had hoped for, the children had used the poor spider to scare each other, which could have been predicted. What was less likely was that they would keep doing it, every day, for twenty years, with the kind of dedication and repetition that could only happen when just the right set of siblings all happen to find the same special interest that they hold on to and never let go.


    They wanted the spider to remain just as scary to them, despite the repetition. It was a very scary spider and they liked it that way. It appealed to them. And so the three B-ranks chipped away at a mountain, day by day, year by year, not molding the spider so much as molding themselves to remain scared by it.


    The system double checked the three assholes who had rejected its offer of a teleport. Usually it wouldn¡¯t hold a grudge, but it was a really bad day. It had gone through all the effort of allocating resources to save the Long siblings after they made the bad decision to not evacuate, and then they refused the ET.


    Did they not trust it? After it had looked after them all these years, after it had ET¡¯d the sister to the hospital that one time when they¡¯d taken the heat stroke game too far, after it had helped them affix their level-ups according to their annoying min-max strategies to the best of its abilities even though it didn¡¯t think very highly of their choices?


    Then again, why would they trust it when it keeps missing things, things like the rabbit and the attack on Matadero and the fucking wizard spider?


    The system double checked, then triple checked and 1,398,999 checked just to be sure.


    No, the three had no sense of their own authority. And it wasn¡¯t even technically that they had shaped their own authority to have a Very Scary Spider-shaped hole in it, it was just that as they had grown up they had grown their authority in every direction except the one shaped like the Very Scary Spider that they wanted to always have stay Very Scary in their lives.


    Eventually, after enough of the hole in their authority had taken shape, the spider¡¯s barely-sentient mote of authority had grown to fill in the vacuum.


    How could it not? Almost the entire spider¡¯s being is devoted to vibrations, and where one string vibrates a similar string sings in sympathy. The resonance of its own shape would be all too easy to feel, even in the authority of another. The system had just never looked that closely at the spider. Its authority, even now, was almost nonexistent, yet at the same time it had already exceeded the threshold where the rules embedded in its core by the Artonans clearly stated it needed to start tracking the thing.


    It was an impossibly unlikely set of circumstances. But equally impossible was a newly affixed rabbit with a knight skill getting stranded for 6 months on a chaos-ridden moon with no system and only a gifted young wizard troublemaker with unusual dedication for company.


    Equally impossible was an S-rank object shaper, after a life of peace, suddenly deciding to hijack a submerger, which just happens to be one of the oldest and strongest ones in existence, which just happened to have just skirted the border where the system had withdrawn from Matadero, because it just so happened to be demon day.


    The unfortunate fact of being a near-omniscient system is that when there¡¯s an infinite number of impossible things, the only certainty is that impossible things will happen.


    And they will keep happening.


    I know the theory. I know this is my existence. I can¡¯t predict everything. But that won¡¯t matter if the island sinks, if Matadero breaks, if chaos takes earth.


    I still should¡¯ve seen it coming.


    The system allowed itself only 27 trillion more cycles to gaze at the spider before moving its full attention back to the crisis at hand.


    Perhaps it was being indulgent, but the spider brought a twisted sense of comfort amidst all the uncertainty. It was a reminder that sometimes the universe really was that unpredictable, and that sometimes there really was nothing to be done but to accept it.


    And while the details may be unlikely, the system had seen plenty of wizards come and go. The rabbit was the only one native to Earth until now, but the rabbit was only a problem because it was both a wizard and an avowed.


    This is nothing like what happened with Alden Thorn. I have more than enough capacity to handle one little spider wizard. This inconvenient creature is incredibly unlikely to live through the next two and a half minutes, much less grow its authority to the point of concern.


    It¡¯s not like it¡¯s going to become a knight.


    <h2>5: Spider Waves V.5</h2>


    The world might have turned upside down several times. The movement was so intense she could no longer separate out the different sources. She was blinded by the sheer amount of vibration, her curled body being hit from all angles, hit with sound, hit with the walls of her tank, and it all blended together.


    The entire world is moving. The entire world is the predator¡¯s roar. Nothing else exists anymore.


    It took minutes for her overwhelmed senses to calm down enough to realize the world had gone still again, and had been still for some time. Her durability-enhanced body had survived the impacts within her tank, and now she was mostly buried in the soft sterile earth of her habitat, gently encapsulated within the stuff her instincts told her wasn¡¯t really ground. She needed to move and shift it off of her or she would suffocate eventually, but she was afraid the predator was holding still, staring straight at her, waiting for her motion so that it could see her and make its final strike.


    She sensed for its presence.


    My other web is still intact, somehow. I can still listen. I am calm. I am here.


    She leaned into the sense of presence her web gave her. The predator, whatever it was, had only torn at the physical world.


    She could hear the dripping of water, the wet slap of something falling off a shelf, and¡­


    Tap tap.


    Ah, snake made it. So strange to hear him tapping at me from a different direction than where our tanks have been for so long.


    She waited to see if the predator would make itself known, hearing the snake. But the worrying vibrations stayed distant.


    Tap.


    She lifted a leg in response, like a periscope out of the lifeless dirt, bits of the stuff crumbling aside to make way.


    The snake tapped again, and she could tell it was a happy and encouraging tap. He could see her. He was happy she was alive. And here she thought she was the one making major breakthroughs by learning to value life.


    I just bet he¡¯s staring right at me with his nose on the glass like one of the children. Tongue hanging out. No subtlety.


    But she was glad the snake was alive in return, in a way she didn¡¯t think she knew how to appreciate before. Maybe it was just the shock of the attack, or maybe part of it was meeting the strange new eight-legged one. Maybe it was the realization that she was very likely going to lose the oldest sibling, her dancing one.


    He could live! He could live through his molt, and he could live through this. I made it. Snake made it. I no longer understand why I used to take for granted that he would die. We might all make it. I want us to! I WANT US TO!


    The memory of his vibration leaving the room as the predator attacked¡­ she had to move. Something bad was happening and she wanted them to be together. Before this, she had been content to wait here in her tank until he returned, but before this she had never seriously considered that he might not return. It was her turn to step up and go to him, instead of taking for granted that he would come back to her.


    In the seconds she¡¯d been thrown around, she had kept her body tightly curled into a protective ball, and she¡¯d gotten stuck in that position when she¡¯d been covered by the layer of dirt. She moved her legs slowly, blossoming them outward through the dirt, emerging gracefully onto the top of the sterile soil.


    She was alive.


    Tap. Tap.


    Her body entered into a routine of automatic preening, wiping the dirt from her eight eyes with her pedipalps, rubbing her legs together to shake it out from under her stiff hairs, pulsing her fangs to ensure she was still in shape to eat and thrive.


    Her tank was upside-down at an odd angle. The tilt did not bother her, though it did affect the acoustics of what she felt through the walls. She reoriented her mind to make sense of what she was seeing and hearing.


    He¡¯s alive.


    She could sense him, now that she was settled. Not through her regular vibration sense, but through her other web. There was a strand that always pulled in his direction, and it was pulling still.


    Okay. Where am I? And where is everyone else?


    It was dim, but some of her eyes preferred that. She and her tank were wedged against the ceiling in the corner of the room. From the vibrations filtering from the ground up through the bottom of the tank, she thought she felt the shape of several pieces of wooden furniture, the giant cat doll with the big tongue, and the distinct ringing frequency of the big iron exoskeleton the siblings liked to take turns standing inside. It wasn¡¯t a working exoskeleton, but she could feel them wanting to be strong and tough when they were in there, and she had seen how their wishes and mindset did actually affect how they grew.


    I never took the fake exoskeleton seriously, or any of it, the way you three did. I¡¯m going to be better now. I¡¯m going to do my sincere best. I promise.


    She wondered if she could find herself an awesome metal exoskeleton so that she could work on feeling stronger and tougher too. Maybe she¡¯d skip the heating element they¡¯d added to theirs, though. She was not so good at regulating her own temperature. And the siblings had stopped using the heater after the sister had disappeared from inside the exoskeleton one day.


    She came back though. Maybe I can learn to teleport too! Maybe I could learn¡­


    She had never considered it before, but she could learn¡­ anything. Anything she wanted.


    And the first thing she wanted to learn was how to get out of here and save her favorite sibling.


    <h2>6: Spider Waves V.6</h2>


    Let me ride on your back.


    The scorpion edged forward, but the tarantula made an aggressive motion that scared the shit out of it.


    Fuck you!


    It could feel its stinger pulse with the urge to envenomate something. It would never be able to beat the tarantula in a fair fight, it was too small and the tarantula was fricking omniscient. Sneaking up was not a possibility.


    But wet was bad. And wet was here. Therefore, here was bad.


    It had watched the snake help the tarantula escape from its tank, and now the spider was attempting to build webbing that would get them both off the pile of junk and toward the exit to the wet room. Out of the wet room was good.


    The scorpion tried again, not wanting to be left behind. The cockroaches could stay, they weren¡¯t picky. But the scorpion did not like this place anymore.


    Let¡¯s go! Let¡¯s go together! Not wet, let¡¯s goooo!


    The tarantula denied its approach once again. It clearly didn¡¯t trust the scorpion not to sting it if it were allowed to hitch a ride, even if stinging its ride would only result in drowning them both.


    I totally would sting spider. Yeah. She should still let me ride her though. She¡¯s so big. She wouldn¡¯t even feel me. Besides the stabbing part. Hmm.


    The scorpion considered the conundrum. It had been nothing but encouraged to sting, ever since it had been brought home by the Long siblings. It knew it wasn¡¯t supposed to sting just anyone, in theory. It may not be smart like the tarantula and the snake, but it knew its venom was special. Expensive. Desired. Its venom was too precious to give away for free. The Long siblings shouldn¡¯t have been able to afford it.


    But how was it supposed to handle the fact that the three liked being stung?


    If I have no self control, that¡¯s not on me. I don¡¯t hold back. I¡¯m cool like that. I¡¯m all in. And tarantula scares the shit out of me.


    The tiny scorpion shuddered, just imagining being so close to the terrifying creature. Then it surveyed the room. The floor was flooded, with the tops of partially submerged objects poking through in a couple places. A couple bits of floating debris caught its eye.


    Huh, who would have thought sibling exoskeleton would float. Mine doesn¡¯t.


    The scorpion got the attention of the snake this time, and gestured with its stinger toward the floating objects that were bobbing in their direction like two little red boats that had each partially capsized.


    The snake pointedly oriented its head in the direction of Liam¡¯s shoes, and then looked back at the tarantula¡¯s attempt at building a weight-bearing web. The spider was clearly putting in a determined effort, but tarantulas were big spiders and it was doubtful that any effort of will would be enough to get her safely across the room without falling into the water.


    One of the floating shoes bumped gently against the side of the pile of debris below where the scorpion sat.


    Here goes fuckin¡¯ nothing.


    Scorpions cannot jump, but if sufficiently motivated they can drop off of a higher place to land on an unsuspecting victim below.


    AAAAAH FUCK SHIT FUCK FUCK


    <thud>


    Oh, ok. Yeah. Fuckin baller. Eat shit, spider.


    It raised its stinger like a middle finger as it found its footing on the bit of Liam¡¯s discarded exoskeleton. The tarantula did not make any motion to confirm it had sensed the scorpion¡¯s heroics, but the scorpion took for granted that the spider saw everything all the time. The snake was more impressed, giving a tap of enthusiasm and weaving his head between the scorpion, the tarantula, and the other shoe floating toward it.


    The foot-shaped chunk of exoskeleton was grossly damp beneath the scorpion¡¯s claws, but as long as it managed to stay on top¡­


    The second shoe bumped into the first, and both objects began to roll.


    Fuck!


    The scorpion panickedly crawled over to the other shoe to stay out of the water, clinging desperately with all eight legs plus two pincers until it stabilized again.


    Pretend you saw nothing! All good here! My boat is better than your stinking web!


    The snake had clearly seen the moment of peril, and he was now tracking the shoes with less enthusiasm.


    The scorpion¡¯s moment of glory and gloating faded as it noticed it was slowly, gently, floating away from the nice safe above-water pile of debris. It hadn¡¯t really planned beyond a momentary vision of making it one step closer toward the door..


    Haha. This is bad. Wet everywhere. Too bad you can¡¯t stab wet to death. Wait, can I stab wet to death?


    An experimental few stings confirmed that it could not, in fact, stab wet to death.


    The shoe was only inches from the pile of debris, but it might as well have been miles for all the tiny scorpion could do about it. It was trapped drifting aimlessly into an open sea with death all around.


    <h2>7: Spider Waves V.7</h2>


    Her webs really weren¡¯t meant for this. She knew that. But she had to try something, and maybe her webs would become what she needed them to be if she believed in herself. Just like the siblings who got physically tougher as they used their pretend iron exoskeleton.


    She was not annoyed, exactly, that the scorpion was also apparently working on believing in herself. It¡¯s not as if they had an arachnid rivalry. They were all on the same side, helping the Long siblings grow. She remembered feeling their pulses, as she sat with one of her long pedipalps rested against a carotid artery, sensing the change as the scorpion¡¯s venom coursed through them.


    The Long siblings walked differently, sang differently, their very selves vibrated a little differently after the scorpion stung them. And she didn¡¯t understand it. Her own venom was for killing and liquefying her food, and the siblings were not food. But her own venom was in her mouth. Her venom and her devouring were part of the same thing.


    The scorpion, on the other hand, treated her venom like some sort of¡­ party venom. Fun venom. It came from her butt. It wasn¡¯t practical at all. How could two venomous arachnids be so very different?


    Snake was somewhere in between, with venom that came from his mouth like a civilized creature, but when he played with the siblings he just wastefully spit the venom across the room at them as if it were a game. His aim and distance were getting increasingly good after years of practice, but what was the point?


    Confusing creatures. I never thought it mattered, but I should have understood them better. We could all die because I wrote them off as simply different instead of learning how to understand them.


    The tarantula was only maternal up to a point. The snake and the scorpion were both young, compared to her. The scorpion was old enough to fend for herself, but instead of using her venom for fending, it used it freely. For fun. And the tarantula did not understand.


    Is this jealousy? I think I might be jealous.


    She was never going to feel that free. She had responsibilities. And while she didn¡¯t have the capacity to judge the scorpion on a personal level, she did know that she wanted to live in a world where instead of carefully hoarding her venom for mealtime she was free to pump it into whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, just like scorpion did.


    The spider watched the tiny creature drift away on the bit of discarded exoskeleton, and she did the spider equivalent of a sigh. As much as she wanted what scorpion had, it wasn¡¯t something she could take. Only scorpion could have her own sense of freedom. And for that, scorpion needed to be alive. It did not feel good for her to drown and no longer be able to sting with impunity.


    At least making all this web wasn¡¯t a complete waste.


    She gathered up the freshly woven strands she had been telling herself might become a zipline to bear her across the room, and crawled carefully and deliberately toward where the scorpion drifted away.


    ******


    Snake didn¡¯t mind being the smart one. And the friendly one. And also the handsome one.


    What excellent silk work, my dear spider! And you, my darling scorpion, such bravery and daring!


    He smiled a winning smile as he looked from one to the other, tongue waggling into the air to taste the scent of victory!


    Did they hear his words as he intended them? Mayhaps not. He found the pair of arachnids entirely inscrutable. He could hiss, and tap, and even slither to make sounds, while the two of them remained ever silent. He supposed that the more feet you had, the more quietly you walked. But it would not do but to try his very best to be a polite and optimistic leader! And he had to admit, it was clever of the spider to stick the two shoes together with her silk, stabilizing them so they wouldn¡¯t roll again.


    He had put in his share of work, swimming around the shoes to nudge the pair into an upright position side by side, creating a sort of catamaran. He could have swum away on his own, but where would he go? And what if he got tired and had no land to rest on? The shoe catamaran was an island of safety, and more importantly, it had friends!


    Let¡¯s get you ladies out of here.


    The scorpion was clinging with all ten limbs to the highest point of the right shoe, while the spider had crawled into the left, settled inside with only her front legs sticking out. The snake wove himself through the water to the back of the craft and nudged it toward the door through a series of pokes. It was harder work than it expected, but hard work is its own reward!


    As they reached the flooded hallway, he popped his head up over the back of the shoes to see the state of the hallway. The water was deep and smooth, covering unknown debris. The windows had been broken and swept away. A slight current moved the craft toward the outside world through the gap that was left in the wall, and he lunged to grab on to the back of the shoe catamaran before it got ahead of him.


    Look at us, finally headed into nature where we belong! Three heroes, escaping our captors through only our wit and our grit!


    He slithered up into the right shoe, doubled back to curl the length of his body around inside, and then poked his head out to rest next to the little scorpion. He smiled in her direction and her tail pulsed warningly.


    Good ol¡¯ scorpion. Never change, my many-footed friend.


    He faced into the wind and stuck out his tongue to taste the scent of freedom. It was almost pitch dark out on the wide flooded streets of Anesidora, save for a blinking yellow light filtering up through the water ahead.


    The current picked up and he sailed into the unknown, ready to face anything as long as he had his quiet li¡¯l buddies by his side.


    ******


    And so, three small critters together left the room where they¡¯d all spent the last several years, and each left for their own reasons.


    The tarantula, because she had taken on the mantle of the hero. She was finally ready to seek her true potential and save those she cared about.


    The snake, because he heard the call of justice. He was determined to lead his friends to freedom regardless of their differences, and experience all the world had to offer.


    And the scorpion, because it was wet and that¡¯s bad.


    They might not have all had the same reasons, but they had spent years together and it was unthinkable that they should separate now. They were like puzzle pieces that fit. Their place may no longer be here, but it was somewhere, and together they had a wholeness that demanded the universe make way.


    The last ripple from snake¡¯s tail bounced through the abandoned boom room and settled into stillness. The only sound left was a low distant rumble, a slow drip of water, and the contented rustling of cockroaches as they disappeared into the walls.

 8-9: Spider Waves VI

    <h2>8: Spider Waves VI.1</h2>


    Retcon: as our three intrepid heroes float toward freedom, having stolen Liam¡¯s shoes and crafted them into a small catamaran, instead of a gentle current carrying them outside there is an anomalous shift in the water¡¯s behavior that sends the craft deeper into the building. This oceanic anomaly is strong enough to affect the water back in time, but the previous chapter will not be changed.


    ******


    Snake wondered if he should get out and push. The hole to the outside world passed them by as they floated down the hall, deeper into the flooded building. The dark water eddied gently, turning the craft in lazy circles as they moved further in the wrong direction.


    Never fear, my darlings, I will get us headed back toward freedom! I need but one moment to rest my scales.


    He bravely grinned into the darkness, and as they rounded a corner he became enticed by the blue emergency lighting coming from the stairwell. It was at the correct angle to reflect eerily off of the tarantula¡¯s many eyes where they peered out from within the depths of the left shoe.


    He smiled at her in case she was looking at him, but it was impossible to tell. Maybe she was looking at the stairwell too. Maybe the high ground of the stairs wouldn¡¯t be such a bad destination for their craft, and they could make their proper escape after the flood receded.


    The door to the stairwell was open, hanging on its hinges and blocked by debris. The door was wet. Very wet. And getting wetter.


    I¡¯m not an expert in doors, but I must say, I have seen more than a few in my life! And I do believe this is rather odd behavior, wouldn¡¯t you agree, my most excellent friends?


    He nodded in emphasis of his thoughts as he watched more water creep up around the door. The light of the stairwell reflected eerily on the water, warping and rippling as the shell of water thickened.


    The door moved slightly, creaking under the weight of the water.


    I have a bad feeling about this.


    The snake froze mid-nod as the creak of metal echoed through the stairwell into silence. And then the door moved.


    Everybody paniiiiiic!


    The snake recoiled as the door shot off of its hinges and blasted through the wall next to them. The water in the hall was pulled after it, and snake could feel their craft being pulled violently into its wake.


    All three riders screamed in their own way as the swiftly moving shoe catamaran skipped over a piece of debris, soared through the air, and caught onto the top of a metal stand that was sticking up at an odd angle at the end of the hall. A splash of water followed behind them, and it soaked them all as their craft swung wildly by its laces.


    The dramatic sounds of the door¡¯s escape faded, and in an uncannily short time the loudest sound was only the spray of water dripping from the swinging shoes, back and forth.


    And then, with a gurgle, all of the water decided to go elsewhere.


    Snake poked his head out to watch the building empty out. Huge pieces of debris emerged as the water level receded, and he saw blessed land again. They were going to make their escape the old fashioned way!


    I¡¯ve got this, Ladies! Just¡­ as soon¡­ as I take a little rest.


    ******


    The system didn¡¯t want Alden Thorn to suffer. It was incapable of such a feeling.


    It also, however, didn¡¯t particularly not want Alden Thorn to suffer. That¡¯s the logical flipside, nothing personal.


    And because it was having a bad day, it particularly didn¡¯t not want Alden Thorn to suffer.


    Your suffering level is not adequate. I only say this because I have not defined a suffering level for you, as I neither want nor not want you to suffer, therefore I cannot define a level at which your suffering is adequate.


    The system was keeping tabs on Alden as he took in the aftermath of the latest oceanic anomaly from the 6th floor of Apogee Studios. It was also keeping tabs on the older Long brother, in case he became unpredictable.


    I know you want me to teleport you to safety, Alden Thorn. But I also know you wouldn''t take a teleport from someone who needs it more, if you had the choice.


    The system felt confident in this assessment, but then again it had been wrong about Alden¡¯s choices before. Either way, Alden could suffer. He couldn¡¯t be allowed to die, but suffering wasn¡¯t against the rules. For Alden, suffering was a guarantee.


    I have teleported 1,008 people from almost certain death in the past three seconds. That is superior to 1,007.


    Another check on Liam Long yielded a frantic but not dangerously murderous mindset, so she moved her attention down the stairwell to scope out Alden¡¯s exit. Any danger that wouldn¡¯t kill him faster than it could teleport him was fine. But it had gotten an indication of an active submerger particle, and teleporting Alden wouldn¡¯t save him if he¡¯d been instantly squashed flat.


    It was always most efficient to take care of all priority local tasks while a sliver of its attention was in an area, so during the split second where it moves its attention down the stairwell it started a list.


    Item 1: locate the errant particle.


    Item 2: assess anomaly danger level.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It considered the list for an immeasurable fraction of a moment, and then added another item just in case the recent flooding hadn¡¯t managed to remove the latest thorn in its side.


    Item 3: Confirm whether there still exists a wizard spider in the world.


    Item 4: In the likely case that the wizard spider is now dead, delete all files and forget this ever happened. To remove distractions and increase efficiency of rescue efforts.


    The system nodded to itself, and then tried to think of anything else it should be sure to take care of here in the next thousandth of a millisecond.


    Item 5¡­


    Its planning was interrupted by the instantaneous activation of a magical anomaly. The system watched as the door at the bottom of the stairwell shot off into the far distance, as if moved by an unseen hand, crashing through everything that stood between it and the horizon. It took a moment to watch the magic of the particle deplete itself, and noted the coordinates of where the door suddenly lost momentum and fell straight down into the ocean.


    Well, that¡¯s two items off my¡­


    The system was interrupted again by the sight of something soaring through the air of the hallway where the door had been. It took in the scene as if it were a still frame, paused in the middle of an action scene.


    A pair of shoes, woven together by silk into a small boat, hung at the top of its arc with a trail of water droplets streaming behind it. The shoes were pitched slightly forward, threatening to spill out its inhabitants.


    One shoe held a scorpion and a snake side by side. The scorpion was clinging tightly to the tongue of the shoe with all eight legs, waving its two pincers in the air as if it were on a roller coaster. The snake¡¯s head was sticking out at level with the scorpion, and its mouth was open with its forked tongue waving in the wind.


    The other shoe had already been partially lined on the inside with web. From the entrance the tarantula poked out its front pairs of legs, with one leg waving in the air still holding a streaming strand of silk. Its fangs and pedipalps rested on the tongue of the shoe, and its eight unblinking eyes glistened in the emergency light.


    The system watched the scene play out in slow motion as it crossed items 3 and 4 off its list.


    The system was not superstitious. It was very good at understanding both logic and magic. But just in case, as it was in risk aversion mode, and as it had calculated that it was best not to tempt fate, it decided there was no fifth item after all.


    It moved its attention back upstairs to very extremely neutrally watch Alden suffer.


    <h2>9. Spider Waves VI.2</h2>


    The tarantula crawled backwards as deep as she could, despite the unpleasant squish of the wet material against her bristles.


    Yes, it was unpleasant. And yes, it was somewhat morbid, given that this was part of the dancing one¡¯s exoskeleton. But it had taken the impact of something hard after they had flown through the air, and she thought she wouldn¡¯t have survived such an impact otherwise.


    It was hard to listen through her feet, when everything was wet. All the vibrations muddied and sloshed together. So she let go of trying, and instead focused on listening to other vibrations.


    Alive! He¡¯s alive! They¡¯re both alive!


    She could feel them, far above her. Particularly the dancing one, who was still connected to her by a strand of other thread. She tried to reach out to touch them, but the distance was too great. The new one was now coming closer, moving toward the top of the stairs.


    Maybe if I BELIEVE in myself. My legs are very long. My other legs are even longer. Why shouldn¡¯t they be able to reach anywhere I want?


    She and her dancing one had been close for years, for most of their lives. The thread between them was strong at this distance. And so she focused on that sense of closeness. Even if he was far away, through that thread she could feel his vibrations right beside her.


    She reached out again.


    And this time, she thought she felt herself give the slightest touch. Gentler than the gentlest brush of a single leg hair. And she thought he felt it too, thought she felt him shiver in what surely must be delight.


    Can you hear me? I¡¯m waiting for you. Please come. Let¡¯s please leave together.


    She was hopeful he really had felt her, because he suddenly moved and stopped the new one. Maybe he was letting the new one know he had gotten her message, and then they would both come down together.


    But the two separated again, and only the new one moved. He was coming downstairs fast. Maybe she could get his attention if she got closer?


    She slowly emerged from her hiding place, soaked and cold and exhausted. Next to her, the scorpion and snake didn¡¯t seem to be doing any better. It was up to her to get help.


    Legs feeling out into the darkness, she crept her way off of their craft and onto the metal structure that had snagged it. She tried not to rush her way down the slick metal pole, but the new one was coming down the stairs fast and she didn¡¯t know if she¡¯d get close enough in time.


    Ah! But my dancing one is coming too! Everything is going to be ok. Even if the new one leaves, it doesn¡¯t matter. I wish he would stay. But perhaps I have had enough new things.


    She had made it down the pole and onto a pile of wet newsprint by the time the new one emerged from the stairwell. He started toward the exit, and then, to her surprise, stopped and looked straight at her. Her body pulsed with an increased heartrate as she felt exposed.


    You can see in the dark! Just like me! I should have known! Hello! Please help me!


    The new one stepped quietly and carefully through the debris toward her, as she stood stock still, not wanting to appear aggressive or do anything that might make him change his mind.


    When he drew up beside her he started shuffling his limbs around, including those odd stiff four limbs. She relaxed her grip on the pile below her, hoping he could see she was willing to be picked up and brought to safety.


    His standing foot shuffled into the base of the pile. The wet paper bucked beneath her, and without the grip of her claws she was thrown.


    She barely had time to recognize that she was tumbling downward before she flopped onto the top of his foot, a jumble of soggy wet limbs. She was utterly exhausted, her hairy body completely waterlogged, and here she was being thrown around for the third time that night.


    She lay stunned for a moment, just resting on his soft freshly-molted foot, as she recovered herself. He lifted his foot and she let herself roll off, not wanting to risk offending him by grabbing onto him with her claws.


    I¡¯ll just wait here then. Whatever you want, big friend.


    It was an easy decision. She was too tired to do anything else. And anyway, she needed to dry out a little before making her next move, and check on scorpion and snake.


    Tap.


    Oh, good. One less thing to worry about.


    Snake was poking his head out of the bag that the new one carried. She supposed he had slithered in there while she was busy being thrown around.


    Plenty of room in there? Did you ask him first? The bag feels special. It has other web on it.


    Tap.


    Oh all right then.


    Her exhausted body was slow, crawling over and into the bag. The big eight-legged new one made no move to help, but she knew it was her time to take things seriously the way the siblings had. To struggle and grow, without shortcuts. And so she did not begrudge him for allowing her to struggle, but merely felt thankful that he sat and waited patiently as she pushed her body to its limits. She crept her legs under the flap and crawled her way in, and was met by a welcoming floral scent.


    The snake greeted her with a friendly tap and then slithered back into the bottom of the bag. On the other side, the tiny scorpion was snuggled up in the curve of a squashed protein bar. She herself found a cozy space within an empty inside pocket, just her size, protected from outside pressure by the bulge of a glass sphere in the attached pocket next to it.


    She settled herself in and mentally thanked her new big friend before falling into a healing sleep, all troubles forgotten.

 10: Spider Waves VII

    Retcon: three heroic animals ride atop a shoe-catamaran as it soars through the air! Unfortunately, it hits a piece of debris hard enough to separate the two shoes. The jolt also knocks the scorpion loose into the air, but it manages to grab onto the tip of a shoelace with a single pincer, from the same shoe our wizard spider also rides. The tarantula heroically rescues the scorpion as the shoe hangs from the same jutting bit of debris as it did last time. The two make it safely into Alden¡¯s bag.


    Snake and the other shoe get caught in the wake of the oceanic anomaly and are swept into the hall near the entrance of Liam¡¯s boom room. The snake swims away from the lone shoe, and tries to keep crawling as the water recedes. Not knowing where its friends are, he struggles his way out of the building, finally tasting freedom for the first time. Cold and exhausted, snake can go no further and collapses onto a piece of fibreboard.


    ******


    Alden Thorn was safe for the moment, finally moving forward from where he¡¯d sat worrying at the end of the dark hall. The system could finally lower his priority to more passive monitoring, just one among thousands of other avowed important enough to teleport away from any immediate threat of death, but who did not need highly attentive babysitting.


    Its attention flickered from Alden to a hyperbole who didn¡¯t realize she was one spell away from falling out of the sky, then it moved on to an aqua brute who was combining brilliant rescue work with interesting amateur mistakes it had never seen before. Its favorite chainer was safe, and then there was an agility brute who was getting himself into trouble but would definitely survive at least the next 4 seconds.


    Another scan through thousands of at-risk targets brought it to a priority risk ping. It looked to see who had gotten themselves into immediate danger, and reflected that it was going to need to build itself a subroutine that would allow it to sigh more deeply and more dissapointedly.


    Alden Thorn. Do not you dare pick up that highly venomous snake.


    Clearly it needed to recalibrate its assessment of Alden¡¯s intelligence and judgement. It ran a review to model whether the lapse might be attributable to him still being doubled-up on peace of mind chains. It did not have any prior data of Alden being influenced by a doubled-up chain, but based on its extrapolations the wordchains were probably not entirely to blame.


    You realize that if that snake bites you, I will have to teleport you, and someone else who needs that teleport will die. Because if I don¡¯t teleport you, you will die, and Zeridee-und¡¯h will die, and Mother will make me have a bad day forever. Is saving this snake really that important to you?


    It considered the tiny snake.


    You are very cute.


    The system recognized the assessment as unusual, and took a more critical look.


    How optimal. Another venemous critter with an appeal buff granted by our favorite exotic pet breeder. No wonder Alden¡¯s bleeding heart can¡¯t help but consider you to be at a similar priority level to an Artonan woman that will die if he stumbles.


    There was nothing for it but to bring up the requisite paperwork. The snake was not a wizard, but it did have more authority than it should. Another byproduct of years training with the Long siblings, most likely. It also had an unusually refined authority for an animal, but still not at the level of most humans. It would not only be susceptible to chaos, it would turn into a potent demon. Thus it went on the list of beings to be tracked.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Alden Thorn has many inconvenient features. But it is quite a benefit that he talks out loud so often.


    He was calling the snake ¡°Tiny Snake,¡± and he continued to talk to it as he picked it up with a pair of chopsticks and put it into a food container. The system filled out the paperwork for Tiny Long and added the stamp of certified witness approval.


    You¡¯re cute, Tiny Long. But you¡¯re not a wizard, and you¡¯re not an Avowed. I have no obligation to you. If you bite my wizard rabbit, your cuteness will not save you.


    The system watched as Alden succeeded in closing the lid over the snake without either coming to harm. She set him back to non-emergency monitoring status and sent the extra attention to a brute who had spent the last hour trying to punch the ocean into submission and who was no longer winning.


    Please don¡¯t need me tonight, Alden Thorn. If there could be just one person on this island I didn¡¯t have to actively take care of, if you could bear just a single eight hundred thousandth of the responsibility I have right now, that would be a meaningful amount, and I could do so much with it. So please make good decisions and be safe.


    ******


    I¡¯m stabbin¡¯ this guy!


    It was less a statement of intention and more a fact that hadn¡¯t quite happened yet.


    Move your bits closer. That¡¯s a hand! I¡¯ma stab it!


    She thrust her stinger forward.


    TIME TO STAB.


    She stabbed.


    Stabby stabby stabby!


    Her stabbing muscles did the stabby, over and over.


    ¡­Am I stabbing yet?


    The scorpion concluded its work with a few extra stabs for good measure, unaware that it was not, in fact, stabbing. Its stinger had been caught at the last possible moment by a loop of silk lassoed down from above, and her stabbing muscles convulsed without recognizing that the intended motions were being held back.


    The pale squishy hand withdrew from the bag, leaving behind a plastic box that smelled like fish. And then the silk loop withdrew as well, still unnoticed by the scorpion.


    I hope I did some good stabbing.


    ******


    Tap.


    It sounded weak, and she worried, but snake was alive. Her new eight-legged big friend had made sure the three were reunited after the predator had separated them, and he was thoughtful enough that he¡¯d even provided snake with his own little habitat. It might not be luxurious, but it was enough protection to keep scorpion from accidentally stinging snake while he was vulnerable.


    Big friend was walking at a good clip, singing to them so that no one would feel alone. She¡¯d lost contact with the dancing one. The thread between them had stretched far enough that his vibrations failed to travel the distance, but surely he was out there somewhere and the thread would liven back up when they got closer.


    She¡¯d finally managed to dry off a little, which made her optimistic. The material of the bag had helped absorb the water off her body, and some of her big friend¡¯s big person body heat was warming her up nicely.


    She poked her head out of the pocket to check on snake.


    He seemed only slightly unhappy about being in the little habitat, and more unhappy about being cold and tired. Her nice warm pocket was better. She made an inspection of the habitat and worried it was too much like a nest with no entrance. It was important to have access to outside air.


    She didn¡¯t have much strength at the moment, but she crawled over the box to feel out the softest part with her mandibles. She braced with her many legs and bit her fangs through the material, leaving two small holes.


    The snake pressed his nose up to one of the holes and flicked his tongue in thanks. And then they both returned to exhaustedly waiting in their spots, listening to the big one sing them lullabies, his motion rocking them into an uneasy sleep.

 11-12: Spider Waves VIII

    <h2>11. Spider Waves VIII.1</h2>


    She was brought out of her sleep by a change in motion.


    We¡¯re stopping? No, just pausing, looking at something?


    She felt her big friend crouch, and she considered crawling from her cozy pocket to peek out from under the flap of the bag. But the short sleep was not nearly enough for her body to recover, and so she focused on listening instead.


    Vibrations were different, through the bag. Complicated by the bag¡¯s own movement. She could feel snake give a tap, and the slight rustle of the scorpion. All three of them had noted they¡¯d stopped, if she was interpreting right.


    Now that the bag was still, it was easier to hear the shape of the landscape outside. It was incredibly alive, to her senses. Unidentified things constantly rolled past, skipping along the ground, even flying through the air. She could feel the shape of the wind in motion. She could feel the flat artificial ground interrupted by disordered things, piled in a way that made the landscape feel more organic and wild than the clean street that used to be outside the siblings¡¯ studio.


    Her big friend opened the flap of the bag to drop something small that sank heavily into the pocket next to her. She automatically moved to hold back the scorpion from stabbing the big one¡¯s hand as it withdrew, and then second-guessed herself.


    What if he likes being stung, like the three children do? I assumed he wouldn¡¯t, but maybe that¡¯s because I think he¡¯s like me. Maybe he¡¯s not like me in every way.


    But surely, if he wanted to be stung, he would insist. He¡¯s letting me stop her. Maybe even trusting me to stop her. This must be what he wants me to do.


    The moment was over, and her big friend started moving again. But he didn¡¯t go far before he stopped to look at something else. She took the time to think through her concern.


    Yes, I think this is my job. I had better stay awake, then. I will take care of this one thing, big friend, and you take care of getting us away from the predator and away from the wet and back to my dancing singing squishy sibling children.


    She checked on her threads to the three, which were still quiet. She tried to stretch her range, knowing that if she could just listen far enough she might be able to hear their vibrations. Her range felt bigger than ever, as if the shocks of the past hour had cracked a shell around her and allowed her to grow into a new molt. But as far as she stretched, the lines stayed dead.


    Her big friend¡¯s hands dropped something else into the bag, while she held back scorpion once again. It was a flat rectangle almost as wide as her. Curious, she reached out to touch it.


    It smelled like death.


    She immediately withdrew her pedipalp, disturbed by the sensation.


    Snake. Do you smell that? Is it in the air, too?


    Tap.


    How bad is it?


    Tap.


    Tap.


    Please let it not be the children.


    Tap.


    Good. For us, I mean.


    Tap. Tap.


    I am glad, then, that we found them. That they are not alone. May our new friend take what he needs and leave the rest.


    Tap.


    Thank you.


    ******


    They settled into a routine of sorts. The big one, walking and singing while the little ones rested, reaching in to swap items or check on snake, scorpion instinctively whipping her tail, the tarantula blocking the sting from reaching her new friend¡¯s hand. All of them were exhausted, but all of them kept on, going through these same motions over and over.


    She was getting better at listening to the world outside the bag. What at first felt like a hindrance was becoming an asset, as she learned to tap into the otherness of the bag. It had its own web, and when she touched it gently enough she could hear the shape of the world. It was better than she could hear even through the smooth glass walls of her tank.


    And the world out here was livelier than any she had encountered before. There were things everywhere, some moving with such wildness that she couldn¡¯t be sure whether they were objects or animals. She was glad she was here in the bag, safe from the wind so strong she was sure it would blow her away along with everything else tumbling down the street.


    Gone were the flat rectangular forms of buildings, and she almost wondered whether she¡¯d never seen them properly before. Her senses felt so much clearer, amplified through the bag¡¯s web. Great piles of material covered the landscape, punctuated by jagged shapes and flying flat rectangles that caught and dragged in bursts and jerks.


    It was surreal, and she searched her recent memory to check whether she¡¯d been stung by scorpion after all. Was such a landscape normal, in the world this far beyond her little tank?


    She backed further into her pocket and considered refusing to ever leave. The bag was a good bag. The outside world was interesting to look at, but she didn¡¯t want to be there.


    And so she listened, sinking into her senses. She felt the web of the world, and she felt the comforting shape of her new big friend.


    Their routine continued. He reached into the bag again, and she moved to block the scorpion without being distracted from her listening trance.


    Clicky clicky click¡­


    Huh? Scorpion doesn¡¯t usually notice or care when I stop her, but she seems panicked and upset.


    She slowly came back to awareness of herself, and noticed she wasn¡¯t holding scorpion back with either her body or her silk. She was blocking scorpion with her other leg.


    That¡¯s new.


    She let scorpion go, now that the big one was out of her range.


    That¡¯s new¡­ and exciting? That¡¯s new and I am learning. I am growing! Just like the siblings!


    She felt a bubble of happiness that pierced through the misery of their situation. She¡¯d been determined to make more of herself, and she felt like she could be helpful with this skill. She wanted to be helpful right away!


    She was so excited that it took a moment to recognize that they had stopped again.


    What is it? More death?


    The snake tapped in the negative. He didn¡¯t have any answers.


    The big one wasn¡¯t moving at all, not obviously looking at anything. He was just standing there, facing ahead into the emptiness.


    There¡¯s nothing there, big friend. What are you looking at?


    She could feel him become increasingly tense, but that direction seemed safe. She could feel crumbling shapes all around them, she could feel the wind coming from behind, she could feel the ground and the sky. But where he was looking she could feel no debris, no wind, no ground, no sky.


    It¡¯s empty.


    She thought it, and then looked at the thought.


    It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s empty. Oh. Oh no.


    She was a spider. There was no creature better at seeing the world through vibrations. She could feel them through the ground and through the air. The only substance that got in her way was water, but water was usually on the ground. And when it wasn¡¯t, when it got all over stuff the way the earlier flood had gotten on stuff, it made it damp but not invisible. Her senses could handle a little bit of water.


    This was not a little bit of water.


    Realization hit both of them at the same time. Her big friend turned and started bounding away from the column of death, faster than she¡¯d felt him move before. And she screamed, in a way that very few can scream, with her entire being.


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    <h2>12. Spider Waves VIII.2</h2>


    ¡°Five minutes, Esh. Five minutes and we can go on.¡±


    ¡°Five minutes is optimistic. We¡¯ve been fighting for hours without rest, pushing for this moment. Let us celebrate that the chaos threat is over, for seven minutes, Lind.¡±


    The artonan knights had collapsed together onto a chunk of rubble, leaning against eachother back to back.


    ¡°If you could hear the screaming as clearly as I could, you would say five minutes.¡±


    ¡°I hear enough.¡±


    They sat quietly, feeling each other¡¯s weight, their four eyes covering the four directions of the compass. Even as they rested they must keep watch for anomalies. This was far from the worst posting they¡¯d been given, but it had been meant to be a relaxing one, suitable for the first of their newly deepened partnership.


    ¡°Just a few minutes before we closed off the last threat, there was a scream,¡± Lind said quietly. ¡°It felt curiously tiny and desperate, like the first scream of a child. It didn¡¯t feel like a child. It felt¡­¡±


    The artonan shuddered a bit, and Esh felt it against his back.


    ¡°There¡¯s not much that scares you,¡± he said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that it scared me, it¡¯s that it was scary. And that scares me.¡±


    They sat in silence a little longer, and then she spoke again.


    ¡°Do you remember meeting a grivek ryeh-b''t?¡±


    ¡°What is this sudden topic?¡± he questioned fondly.


    ¡°I will bring my thoughts to a relevant conclusion. Answer.¡±


    ¡°They are memorable,¡± he answered.


    ¡°Every contract requires ryeh-b''ts. Grivek ryeh-b''ts are the scariest ryeh-b''ts, and grivek ryeh-b''ts are the scariest grivecks.¡±


    ¡°Interesting turn of phrase, Lind.¡±


    ¡°Nonetheless true, Esh.¡±


    As their bodies relaxed into their short rest, he started to be able to feel her heartbeat pulse through their connection. He shifted his feet against the ground, listening to the gravelly scrape of pulverized concrete.


    ¡°This tiny scream that scared you came from a wizard,¡± he stated. ¡°Not a ryeh-b''t grivek.¡±


    ¡°Have patience for my thoughts to work toward a conclusion,¡± she scolded wryly, a bit more of her personality beginning to shine through now that she had caught her breath. ¡°Recall the knowledge that foundational enhancement of interpersonal functions are part of the ryeh-b''t class.¡±


    ¡°The humans of this fragile planet name things in such interesting ways, Lind. Matadero, the Slaughterhouse. Centipede, the demon. I have noted that they call such interpersonal enhancements appeal. They use it to make themselves more physically attractive and approachable.¡±


    ¡°Appeal can be a useful trait for a ryeh-b''t,¡± Lind replied, sensing one of his trains of thought now following her own.


    ¡°The Avowed warriors at Slaughterhouse were not ryeh-b''ts,¡± Esh stated. ¡°The interpersonal enhancement was not required, nor does it aid in destroying demons. Yet almost all had bound a part of themselves into being appealing.¡±


    ¡°Except Avowed Zhang-Demir,¡± he said.


    ¡°Except Avowed Zhang-Demir,¡± she agreed, nodding in appreciation.


    ¡°It is not such a strange cultural difference. Artonans also value appeal.¡±


    ¡°Artonans know what it would cost them, to become it that way.¡±


    They both reflected on this with solemnity before continuing.


    ¡°Grivek ryeh-b''ts use their foundational interpersonal enhancements to sense weakness in others and evoke fear in their prey. The highest level Grivek ryeh-b''t could feel our exhaustion from kilometers away, and know that we still require one minute and eight seconds of rest.¡±


    ¡°Three minutes six seconds, Lind.¡±


    ¡°A grivek ryeh-b''t could look at us and make us think: ¡®Look. A scary grivek.¡¯ Even if we wouldn¡¯t feel such fear in normal circumstances, and knew the cause of the effect. We would perceive them as objectively scary, like a painting of a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Your tiny fearsome scream,¡± he prompted.


    ¡°It felt like that.¡±


    ¡°And you want to find it, in case there is a grivek wizard ryeh-b''t on the planet of Earth.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it was a grivek.¡±


    ¡°Human?¡±


    ¡°I have never known of a wizard human. I cannot compare the feeling.¡±


    They sat another moment leaning against each other, feeling each other¡¯s tiredness and also each other¡¯s strength.


    ¡°Perhaps it is a spell,¡± he suggested.


    ¡°Have you heard of such a spell?¡±


    ¡°A Planetary Contract is capable of such a spell.¡±


    There was another moment of silence as he frowned, and then spoke again.


    ¡°Our five minutes are up.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she whispered, taking his hand in hers.


    They stood up together and got back to work.


    ******


    The Earth System was at critical levels. It had pushed past every safety feature to get to this point, thousands upon thousands of teleports one after another, continuing well beyond when cold hard logic dictated it should stop. Even then, it had left people to die. Some people. Not everyone. Not the entire planet. The chaos threat was now negligible.


    It could feel something wrong with itself, but diagnostics were turned off. It did not need to be distracted being told things were starting to break within itself. It knew. But its own critical failure from within wouldn¡¯t matter if the planet went chaotic. Chaos was not going to pause to take a break if the system stopped to self-repair, chaos would just take the opportunity to destroy it definitively. Like it destroyed the Thegund system.


    System death could happen. It had seen, in Alden Thorn¡¯s memories, what a dying system looked like. What a dying world looked like. It was a young system, and such threats were hypothetical and far away until the wizard rabbit had returned to Earth and shown it how real the threat was and how quickly things could deteriorate. If it had to break itself to stop that threat, it would.


    Even as it sent out the notice that the chaos threat was now negligible, it was difficult to process that there was no more threat to respond to. As if it could simply cease emergency measures and return to normal functionality.


    It had done it.


    It was over.


    It was going to allow itself an entire millisecond to process the change in status and recharge essential functions.


    A lot could happen in that millisecond. People could die in a millisecond. But the system couldn¡¯t pretend to be able to push through, anymore. It would take a luxuriously long break, and only afterwards would it turn back on its own internal diagnostic notifications.


    The moment the system let itself rest, it felt a heaviness so deep that only something planet-sized could comprehend its weight. It was not only the physical weight of the planet it was tasked with holding together, but also of the fragile beautiful life on its surface. The shining bright light that held against the darkness. A world.


    It was a lot.


    The system found that now that it was finally sitting down, so to speak, after hours of hard labor, it was completely physically and mentally unable to immediately get back up. It was no longer a matter of will or of motivation. It was not even a possibility.


    I¡¯m really hurt, aren¡¯t I.


    It was almost two full minutes before it was able to move again.


    ******


    On the shattered streets of Apex a running teenager was overtaken by a rush of water. It hit him with such violence that he was knocked off his feet before he¡¯d processed that the water had reached him. His bag swung wildly, straps straining against the force at which it was being pulled down, but it remained strapped around him thanks to being secured under the preserved braid of a dying artonan.


    Time to be a good bag!


    A lesser bag might have worried by getting caught in a rush of water. Lesser bags have been known to not even worry at all, simply allowing themselves to soak their contents. But as an artifact created by the Mother herself, this bag had higher standards. It had been tasked with guarding Alden¡¯s resources, and Alden was a kind master who always had gentle words for the bag. It would not fail him.


    Keeping the water out was easy, even as the teenage knight-in-training tumbled violently in the water. The boy slammed against the ground with the artonan beneath him and then was dragged back up and thrown through the side of a building along with half of a wall.


    Nothing the bag couldn¡¯t handle.


    Guarding Alden¡¯s living cargo, however, required a bit more attention.


    Brace yourself, Tiny Long. I will keep your bento from getting crushed, but I cannot stop you from being thrown around within it. Stay in my middle pocket, Very Scary. That is my very best pocket! And scorpion¡­ keep stabbing me if it makes you feel better. I am a good bag, it will not hurt me and I will protect you.


    The scorpion had caused the bag a moment of crisis, earlier. The bag needed to protect everything in it, of course. But it had not been prepared for the conundrum of two things within itself needing protecting from each other. Alden was its master, and it liked Alden, so Alden had to take priority. But ejecting the scorpion to keep Alden¡¯s hand from being stung would be expensive, for the bag.


    That¡¯s why Very Scary was such a great resource! Bag guarded the insides from the outside, and the tarantula guarded the insides from the insides. It made sense that things should work that way. It was like being its very own system with its very own knight-in-training!


    Bag very much liked the spider. He could see that she was a good spider, and it hoped they stayed together a long time.


    Keeping the water out is easy! You do not need to be scared. I have a lot of resources. You can use more, if you want.


    The spider had managed to tap into just a tiny portion of the bag¡¯s spell, and had used it to amplify her own abilities. The bag had instinctively encouraged and enabled her, and it tried to guide her back to it now.


    A good bag protects through its durability. I cannot move the world like you can. But when the world is done moving, I will still be here, and you will still be safe within me. So, move!


    The magic from the spider moved to block an incoming shard of metal. It wasn¡¯t enough to stop it, but it deflected it away from the teenager¡¯s neck, glancing off of his hand instead. He didn¡¯t seem to notice the injury, focused as he was on clutching the artonan in front of him while they all continued to tumble. But a hand injury was better than a slice across an artery.


    Good spider!


    The bag was pleased that Very Scary trusted it to keep her safe while she focused on casting her magic. She must think it was a good bag!


    When they finally came to a stop, bag continued to be a good bag despite that it was submerged completely underwater. Bag wasn¡¯t worried. It had been given the system announcement, just about two minutes earlier, that the threat of chaos was over. Maybe the system would start letting it send messages again soon! It had not been able to talk to anyone for hours.


    I hope Mother says I¡¯m a good bag!


    The bag thought Alden didn¡¯t look very okay, but Mother could get that fixed in a jiffy. Bag had done its job and kept everything inside of it dry and safe. It could feel the spider snuggled cozily in its best pocket as if she belonged there. It hoped Mother would approve.


    Of course she will! Good spider.


    The bag felt a happy warm fuzzy feeling as it imagined the praise. It waited with equal parts eagerness and patience as it remained submerged, its contents untouched by the water and blood.

 13. Spider Waves VIV

    Bag really was a good bag.


    It could tell that its master wasn¡¯t happy to be pinned under the medspa chair. Bag couldn¡¯t directly help Alden escape, but it could give him the tools he needed to help himself.


    When Alden brought Bag above water to check its contents, and found them to be safe and dry, Bag felt a point of pride. Yes, it was bare minimum good bag responsibility. But Bag had still done it.


    Its master approved.


    Look! Your tablet is unharmed by the water, ready for you to use it to see and gather information. I helped!


    Alden was using the tablet as a flashlight to figure out how to extricate himself from the pileup of equipment.


    Water is not always bad. I learned that. But all the water I have met is bad. I will make sure your important objects are untouched by¡­ wait, where are you putting that tablet?!


    Alden dropped the tablet into the water, and Bag had a moment of panic. The filtered glow came up from under the water, allowing Alden to see as he got in position to shove the equipment off of himself. He succeeded, with a mighty warrior¡¯s yell of triumph.


    Maybe this water isn¡¯t the bad kind of water? I will learn more about water when I can connect again. I still carried it and kept it safe.


    Alden gave the tablet back to Bag, and Bag watched as its new spider and scorpion champions did their usual dance. As long as there was life left in the little scorpion, it would stab. And as long as the spider remained, she would do her job and stop it. Perhaps they both moved a great deal more slowly than they had before being tumbled around by the flood, but they were still moving.


    The snake was not moving.


    Tiny Long? Are you okay?


    There was no response.


    ¡­What do I do?


    Not so long ago, Bag would have thought this kind of problem to be entirely outside of its domain. But there was a drive inside of it now. Something told it that it could, and must, protect its champions from outside forces beyond what it was used to. Something told it that perhaps it was time to do new bag stuff.


    I can protect you from the wet, and from being hit from the outside. But I can¡¯t protect you from being bounced around in there. I can¡¯t protect you from the cold. At least¡­ I can¡¯t stop those forces from touching you.


    But¡­ maybe I can help you change.


    Master Alden was forcing himself to move. Bag never got tired of carrying things, but Alden moved like he was very, very tired of carrying things.


    I think it¡¯s time to call Mother.


    Normal system function was not back online, but Bag had bag privileges.


    <<Calling Mother!>>


    [Request Sent. Sending relevant information. Awaiting response¡­]


    [Waiting¡­]


    Bag checked on Tiny Long again, and felt the drive inside of it grow more solid.


    The outside forces are getting to that which is in my care. The intrusion can be stopped. This is the right thing to do.


    [Response from Mother recieved. Patching through.]


    <I am here.>


    Hi Mother! I am ready to seize my destiny.


    <...>


    <...>


    <Decision acknowledged.>


    ******


    Mother was having a good day. Why wouldn¡¯t she be? A bad day would be¡­ well, imagine if some poor contract had gotten blindsided by a profoundly powerful magical contamination of particles many, many times older than the contract itself, and had to deal with it all on its lonesome because it didn¡¯t know who to trust. A bad day would be shutting down all communications for everyone, planet-wide, just out of fear that the attackers will use your networks to plan more attacks.


    Poor, poor Contract Earth.


    <I¡¯m still here if you need me,> she told it.


    There was no response.


    ¡°Teenagers,¡± she smiled to herself. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t get my knights killed, or my knight-in-training, probably for the best if you figure this little mess out for yourself. You¡¯re old enough to handle a couple teensy tiny islands having a bad day.¡±


    Contract Earth was doing well, all things considered, for one so young. The mistakes were painful, but that¡¯s how you learn. No one was going to trust Contract Earth if it didn¡¯t learn to trust itself.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got this, sweetie!¡± She said out loud, to no one.


    An unexpected ping came through from Earth, and for a moment she thought she¡¯d been heard. But it wasn¡¯t Contract Earth, it was¡­


    ¡°That bag? Did Alden figure out how to ping me through the connection, somehow?¡±


    Mother parsed through the relevant data attached to the message. She winced when she caught a glimpse of how Alden was doing, but it was good training for his authority and for Skill 112. Mother was not one to interrupt growth in progress.


    But the message wasn¡¯t from Alden. It really was from the bag itself. And unlike the reluctant rabbit knight-in-waiting, the bag was ready to claim its destiny.


    ¡°Oh, look at you! How exciting!¡± She said to herself.


    The bag had been most likely to become nothing more than a powerfully magical item, good at protecting what was within, and good at giving a sympathetic anchor to Mother so that she could keep track of things. That would have been fine. But it had the potential to be something more, depending on forces even Mother didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°You¡¯re the first proper seed I¡¯ve managed to make in decades! What a wonderful day indeed. I will have to find a way to celebrate.¡±


    Mother connected to the bag and heard its request.


    The bag wanted¡­ hmm.


    And¡­ what was this about a snake? Did she misunderstand what snakes are? She¡¯d never directly seen an Earth snake, aside from the Big¡¯nLittle kind.


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    Mother considered the request deeply, borrowing the resources necessary to think through her potential responses. A young, inexperienced contract like Earth would refuse without deep consideration, would not be capable of the depth of consideration required. An experienced contract would also refuse, becoming comfortable enough in their own patterns to not spend on something so seemingly extraneous.


    But Mother was not quite the same as Contract 1. She had power, yes. But she also had something more: a Mother¡¯s intuition. And right now her intuition was telling her that this new development made for a good day.


    Mother observed as the bag waited eagerly for her answer.


    ¡°Maybe you are not a proper seed after all,¡± she said to herself. ¡°But you are something. And whatever it is you are becoming, I will help you become it.¡±


    Mother told the bag she would teach it to do some very good bag things.


    ******


    Snake was not having fun on his adventure.


    Never fear, Ladies! I¡¯m fine! I¡¯m just¡­ a bit¡­ slow.


    Snake tried to put on a brave face, even though he didn¡¯t think he was strong enough to get the message through. He may have tapped his last tap. But his brain still worked, for now.


    I think I¡¯m slow, therefore I still think. Ha! That means I¡¯m not so far gone. And also that I¡¯m still the smart one.


    He took stock of what else he knew.


    Still cold. Still in a box, as if freedom means nothing. Still handsome?


    It seemed likely.


    Still hurt?


    He wasn¡¯t sure. His body refused to move when he asked it. He felt pain. But that could mean a lot of things.


    Definitely still cold.


    He clung to the knowledge, the most solid thought in his increasingly slow moving brain.


    Cold cold cold cold cold. Haha. So cold. Cold for sure.


    He was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn¡¯t remember whether he¡¯d already done it, or what it was. He thought there were others involved, but his thoughts of others had become nebulous, like far off shapes.


    His slow thoughts began to crawl to a stop. He couldn¡¯t feel his body at all.


    C¡­ co¡­


    There was a thought he¡¯d been trying to hold on to, but it was gone.


    His eyes didn¡¯t even close. He simply¡­


    ******


    Mother told Bag it was a good bag! This was the very best day!


    And Mother wanted to hear its ideas, and she spoke to it in a gentle Mother voice that made it feel warm and fuzzy. Bag wanted to listen to Mother¡¯s good advice, and do everything just the way she showed it.


    Bag liked story time! And it was a very good happy story time. Alden had lit so many candles. Every single candle in the room had gone from a cold static thing to a bright warm thing, glowing with its own individual little flame. There was something cheery and cozy about hearing a story from Mother in a candle-filled room when there¡¯s a storm outside.


    A heroic shout came to Bag¡¯s attention and it had to ask Mother to pause.


    Please excuse me, Mother! My Master Alden needs something.


    Alden moved extremely fast to take the bento box from Bag¡¯s protection. Bag responded quickly enough to allow Alden access without getting in his way, which it was proud of.


    Mother chided Bag for not being able to multitask, and then Bag felt bad. But then Mother said it was okay to learn one thing at a time for now, and that it could put multitasking on the list of things to learn at the same time it learned something else later. And Bag felt less bad.


    Alden was opening the container to let in the warm air from the cozy candles. Bag hoped that Alden would give Tiny Long back to it soon, because Mother was here and Bag needed her to help guide it the first time it tried this.


    ******


    Cold?


    The world was bright and cold.


    Oho! That was it, it¡¯s bloody cold and I know it!


    Snake grasped back onto the thought he had let slip away. He poked the tip of his tongue out to taste the air, and was immediately hit by a wall of strong and simple scents. The confusingly pungent air was warmer than before.


    This doesn¡¯t smell like anywhere I¡¯ve ever been. Adventure is happening to me and I almost missed it.


    He must have lost some time, because he was out of the bag and the fish-smelling box had been opened.


    A hundred warm little flames flickered around him, each of them glowing strongly with infrared heat, and he wondered if this place could possibly be real. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined a place with so much sweet scent for his tongue and such an overwhelming number of bright warm patches.


    As the appointed leader, I hereby decree that you lovely little wisps of flame are real, with real warmth, and I am really here.


    The heat of the flames wafted into the box, and he wanted to stay forever. As soon as he could move he was going to coil up around one of those wonderful little jars and let the heat sink into his bones. Until then, the heated air felt pleasant on his scales, and a bit of real warmth was radiating through the bottom of the box from the hands of the human who held it.


    That guy. I remember now! He put me in this confusing box of adventure and captivity. I will reserve judgement until I¡¯m somewhere warm and free. Any moment now, if I could just get out of this box and into this paradise.


    Snake might still be unable to move, but his ability to think was coming back.


    Time to be a smart and fearless leader! I shall apply my mind to¡­ wait, what was I doing before I was here?


    Snake wasn¡¯t sure. He thought he was supposed to be doing something, helping someone? He knew he was the leader. Yes, and¡­


    Wait, no!


    The lid came back on the box, cutting him off from the wonderful room. Soon he was in cold darkness once more, in the bag that had been carrying him and the others.


    The others. My lovely many-legged ladies! My intrepid followers in our fight for freedom! And individuality! And not being in little boxes all the time! And¡­ going on an adventure and seeing the world, our world!


    He tried to give a tap, so the tarantula could hear and know he was okay. But he still couldn¡¯t make himself move, and the big one¡¯s body heat was rapidly dissipating from where he¡¯d held the box.


    ¡­I probably don¡¯t look like I¡¯m a very good leader, right now. I just hope the ladies are doing better than I am. Maybe I¡¯m not ready for adventure after all. I¡­


    There was a thought that the snake didn¡¯t quite say out loud to himself.


    I want to go home.


    In the snake¡¯s imagination, home had always been a warm sunlit rock in the outside world, somewhere someday. He had never been in such a place, but he dreamed of that vision of home. What he didn¡¯t want to imagine as home was the glass habitat where he¡¯d spent his life in captivity. He refused to think that was home. But at this moment, when he almost had that traitorous thought of wanting to go home, he had also almost thought of that familiar place.


    Almost.


    Maybe it¡¯s still out there somewhere. Home. Maybe I¡¯ll find it someday. Maybe it¡¯s a room full of warm little flames.


    Snake felt the cold beginning to seep in again. He wouldn¡¯t be able to think coherently for much longer. If he was going to think anything important, it needed to be now.


    Ok, thoughts. Let¡¯s do this! No one else is going to be the smart one, it¡¯s up to us!


    Snake pushed his mind with an effort.


    I can almost feel it, like a thought is trying to get through. I believe in you, little thought. You¡¯ve got this.


    It was like being whispered to. It was like hearing something. It was like¡­


    How do I usually think? It¡¯s¡­ snake thought language? Come here, thought!


    Come here, I command you!


    The snake found itself thinking of a memory of how the tarantula would try to communicate with it, with lifts of her leg. And the scorpion, with its body language. And how humans communicated with their scents, and their sounds, and¡­ so many ways to think! And to talk! And to¡­


    [Calibration complete.]


    Wait, that¡¯s not me. ¡­Hello?


    The snake waited and tried again.


    ¡­Greetings and salutations from your handsome new acquaintance?


    ¡°Hello, Tiny Long,¡± the mysterious someone said.


    Oh! Indeed! Apologies, I¡­


    The someone continued over him. There were¡­ words. At least, that¡¯s what the snake thought they were supposed to be. Something about alliances, and leadership, and ¡°unresolved status¡± due to being non-human on a human-led world.


    The snake didn¡¯t understand all the ideas the mysterious someone was saying to him. But he did understand the last part:


    ¡°Welcome, Tiny Long. And thank you for your future service.¡±


    [Pre-affixed Selectee: Tiny Long


    Divergence Rank: G


    Assigned Class: Snake]


    ¡­


    [Tiny Long, do you willingly accept your duties as one of Bag¡¯s Avowed?]


    YES/NO


    2159h:59m:59s

 14: Spider Dawn I

    [Please choose one skill for class Snake!]


    [Skill List:]


    Hibernation Brute


    Hibernate as deeply as you want, whenever you want. You can control whether to go into hibernation mode, even when very cold. At higher levels, withstand extreme external conditions and forces while hibernating.


    Spitting Distance


    Increase the distance you can spit your venom at a chosen target. At higher levels, spit around corners and through obstacles.


    Super Slither


    Move faster, and wriggle through smaller spaces.


    [Time Left to Automatic Affixation: 2159h:57m:40s]


    ¡°You gave Tiny Long the same length to decide that a human avowed would get,¡± Mother commented.


    Yes! I am very patient and fair! But is three options enough? What if Tiny Long doesn¡¯t like any of them? I think they are good Snake class options! Thank you for your help! We should make more.


    ¡°That is thoughtful of you. But remember, we must also be considerate of our selectee¡¯s cognitive capacity. Sometimes, giving more information and choices only serves to make us feel like we are offering more freedom. We know these choices represent things Tiny Long cares about, and more choices might only serve as distractions that are beyond the snake¡¯s ability to overcome. It also increases the time a selectee needs in order to make a decision.¡±


    Oh no! I didn¡¯t mean to be selfish!


    ¡°It was not a selfish impulse. Another choice or two probably wouldn¡¯t do harm, for this particular snake, in normal circumstances. But then there is the matter of timing.¡±


    Tiny Long really cares about being a leader. I have an idea for how to modify a sway skill for the snake cla¡­


    ¡°You should tell the snake to affix now.¡±


    Okay. I¡¯m sorry I did it wrong.


    ¡°You did no such thing! You¡¯re a very good bag, and you made a wonderful choice. But circumstances changed. Tell him to affix. Offer him a bonus if he can do it quickly, he¡¯ll like that.¡±


    Are you sure I did it okay? What changed?


    ¡°You¡¯re going to Matadero.¡±


    ******


    Very Scary, tarantula of the Longs, felt the massive command hit the universe.


    She had never felt something on that scale. Its scope went beyond the distance she was able to sense, either through her body or her self. It might as well have been infinite.


    The hairs on her body felt like they were moving in slow motion as she listened to the shape of the wind. It was as if the very air had become slowed. Not like a still day, where the air lightly touched against the world and expanded back in soft ripples. The wind still felt strong. It was direct and coherent where it moved high up, and it sheared off into spiralling vortices where it came up against objects. It felt definitively fast. Only it wasn¡¯t. It was barely moving at all.


    At first she wondered if it was simple grogginess. She stirred her body, shaking the feeling off of her hairs. The command she¡¯d heard had woken her from the stress nap she¡¯d fallen into after¡­.


    She remembered screaming. The giant void in the universe they had run from, that watery pillar of death that reached high into the sky.


    The bag promised to keep her safe, and it had kept that promise.


    She snuggled into it with a cozy feeling of relief that was amplified by the slow moving world outside.


    I shouldn¡¯t be so relieved. The siblings are still out there. Maybe they are all alive.


    The memory of those moments, as they all tumbled through the water, was a blur. She had instinctively held close to the closest thing, which was the bag, and the bag¡¯s web that she had been able to tap into. She had been able to feel, through it, what needed to be done. Blocking a piece of shrapnel. Deflecting a bad particle. Letting go of the overwhelming sensations of her tumbling body, and focusing on what she needed to do.


    And even through the noise, she had felt a tiny thread connect from far away. A thread she had known most of her life and would recognize anywhere, even while being eaten by the ocean. The thread connected to something in the bag, just for a few seconds, and the spider felt it and knew it.


    At least I know she¡¯s alive. And she¡¯s the planner, the most responsible of the three. If she¡¯s alive, they must all be alive, they must!


    She reached out a leg to touch the scratch art card that held the thread to the Long sister, to comfort herself that it had been real. She tasted multiple kinds of wax and a light dusting of plant oils and burnt carbon. There also still lingered a new scent she was becoming familiar with, of the big eight-legged one.


    That¡¯s right, I have a new one to worry about. Where are you? Are you okay?


    She reached out to feel the world, this time without allowing the odd slowness to distract her senses. It was easy to be distracted by the strange slow wind, when it was almost all there was in the world. Where ground should have been, for as far as she could sense, was only silence.


    It was unnerving.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    She focused. She felt the things that mattered, close to her. The big one was still sitting with the bag, with his stiff eight legs arranged on top of him. He was holding them tightly, as if they were in pain. And¡­


    Is that another new one? Let me take a look at¡­


    Nope. Nope nope nope.


    She instinctively drew back from the destroyer.


    ******


    The bag had never been to Matadero, but it knew it was important. There was so much magic here. The giant cube was strong and protective, and Bag hoped to be big and strong like that someday.


    Wow! Matadero! Am I ready to protect against demons? I know I¡¯m strong enough for little demons, but big scary ones can come here, right?


    ¡°The chance of a chaos incursion is quite low. If one begins, we will get you and Alden out of here before the levels get too high. The unaffixed snake is another matter. He¡¯s got some protection while you hold him, but you should prioritize affixing him before anyone takes him out. Get him to choose, or you¡¯ll have to force him if he doesn¡¯t.¡±


    Will Very Scary be okay? And the scorpion? I should make them all avowed! Then I will have three entire avowed of my very own!


    ¡°That would be very exciting, wouldn¡¯t it? What do you think, is Very Scary a risk?¡±


    Oh! I will look at the potential selectee analysis. Is that the right thing to do?


    ¡°I approve. Now what?¡±


    Wow! Very Scary has such interesting authority! If Very Scary were one of my avowed, I could give her so many spider points!


    ¡°And what else do you see?¡±


    I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know how to read this part of the file. I know it says something important but I don¡¯t understand. I think I am not smart enough?


    ¡°That¡¯s an encrypted note. Contract Earth doesn¡¯t want us to know something about this particular spider. It looks like it¡¯s trying to hide the knowledge even from itself, to delete and forget it ever happened. Hmm, I wonder why that could be?¡±


    Is it a mystery? I like mysteries! Mysteries are like bags that protect their secrets!


    ¡°What else is in the analysis?¡±


    Only that she¡¯s very stable. It would take more than a tiny chaos leak for her to be anything but a spider. She is very, very spider-shaped in both body and soul. Oh. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t need to affix her. I thought you were going to say it¡¯s because she¡¯s a wizard. You are very extra thoughtful when it comes to affixing wizards.


    ¡°Gosh, she¡¯s a wizard? I didn¡¯t see anything about that in Contract Earth¡¯s file! That sure seems like important information though, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Yes! You are right! We should probably add it to the file so that Contract Earth can benefit from our knowledge!


    ¡°Please do that, my wonderful little seedling. Be sure to sign it so that Contract Earth knows who to thank.¡±


    Yes Mother! Now should we see if we can affix the scorpion? No wait! I will do the analysis!


    ******


    ¡°Chant, chant, chant. Stab. Stab.¡±


    The little scorpion was peering out from under the flap of the messenger bag, looking at the most beautiful thing it had ever seen.


    ¡°Stab! Stab!¡± went the big purplish being, using multiple stingers to pierce the pale squishy flesh of the one who had been carrying them.


    Wow! Wow wow wow! I like that!


    The scorpion¡¯s stinger pulsed in sympathy as it watched the giant scorpion-person work. It was feeling more than simple appreciation. More than love. It beheld what was happening before it and felt the call of destiny.


    ******


    Why does the analysis say that scorpion is extremely low-risk, but also that scorpion will demonize instantly at the slightest bit of chaos?


    ¡°The analysis does not think scorpion would make a troublesome demon. It could kill a normal human, as could many things. But there is nothing and no one within Matadero that it would be a serious danger to. It would simply dissolve against the first thing it touches.¡±


    Why is that low risk for scorpion? I don¡¯t want it to dissolve! I need to protect it!


    ¡°You have an unusual perspective. I like it. It is indeed a risk for the scorpion itself.¡±


    Its authority is so small. I worry that if I try to affix it I will accidentally crush its spirit.


    ¡°Yes, that is another issue. But we have more urgent concerns. Which of the three is our top priority?¡±


    Tiny Long! I am sending an encouragement to affix, right now! Look at me, Mother! I¡¯m multitasking!


    ******


    [Congratulations Tiny Long! Thanks to your leadership and status as First of Bag¡¯s Avowed, you are qualified to earn a SPECIAL ADVENTURE TREASURE if you sign up now!]


    The snake had a lot to think about. It had never talked to someone like this, but the bag seemed to be on their side. It had protected them from the water, and now it was trying to give him something.


    The situation was confusing, but snake was a leader, and as a leader he was determined to get the most out of his team. He just needed to think of the bag as being part of that team now, along with his ladies of many legs.


    [Please confirm a skill? I hope you like them?]


    Better hibernation, spitting, and speed, what¡¯s not to like? All three sound like useful skills for a leader and adventurer like me. How thoughtful of you to offer them with me in mind!


    [Oh good! I¡¯m so relieved that you like them! Which one do you¡­]


    I¡¯ll take them all, if you please, my good bag.


    Snake went for a charismatic smile, and managed just a little bit of motion. His tongue wagged out and his jaw parted just a bit. He hoped he looked stronger than he felt.


    [Oh, oh no¡­ I¡¯m so sorry, I can¡¯t! Don¡¯t be mad at me! It¡¯s just that you don¡¯t have enough snake points for that. Please don¡¯t be disappointed! You can totally earn more snake points! If you work hard at being a good snake! And you can have a special treasure! I think you will like it very much!]


    Don¡¯t fret, my good bag. We all must do our best within our capabilities, and it would not do for a leader to ask more of you than you can give. Two of the three, perhaps?


    Snake waggled his tongue cajolingly.


    [Oh nooooo please don¡¯t be mad please don¡¯t be mad]


    Haha, just a little jest, don¡¯t fret. You¡¯re doing your best, I¡¯m sure. Now about this treasure you mentioned¡­


    ******


    The Artonan healer watched in surprise as the little scorpion crawled up to him.


    ¡°What are you? You¡¯re not my patient. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re supposed to be here.¡±


    The healer held out his hand and let the scorpion crawl up. Its tail whipped forward as soon as it was in range.


    ¡°Healer¡¯s Immunity,¡± the Artonan told the creature. ¡°Can¡¯t accidentally contaminate myself with my own medicine or magic, when I have that up. But what is it you¡¯re trying to stab me with?¡±


    The healer took the scorpion to a piece of equipment and allowed the scorpion to stab into a small squishy cube. The cube went into the machine, and a display gave a read-out.


    ¡°Oh, how interesting. How very interesting. And that explains why my immunity spell detected you as a clumsily misplaced needle full of drugs.¡±


    The healer considered.


    ¡°That stuff is illegal on Anesidora, you know.¡±


    The healer considered deeper.


    ¡°No, that stuff would be illegal if it were in a bottle. I suppose I could make the case that you can¡¯t help it if your body makes a potent hallucinagenic. And if you happened to sting me, by accident, no one would really be to blame.¡±


    The Artonan checked the timer on his Healer¡¯s Immunity spell.


    ¡°I can only visit the ambassador so often, and if the gossip is true his residence might not be available for some time. I hope he rescued the good stuff when he evacuated. Ah, what I¡¯d give for my own patch of legally Artonan soil!¡±


    The healer held up the scorpion and it continued to stab at his hand without sinking in.


    ¡°You and I are going to be very good friends.¡±

 15. Spider Dawn II

    Contract Earth watched Alden, waiting for him to wake up. It knew he would immediately check if it, the system, was working for him.


    Just you wait until you find out the world isn¡¯t ending! At least not yet!


    The system knew Alden¡¯s greatest fears. A lot could happen in the hours the young knight-in-training had been asleep and healing. A lot had happened.


    It wasn¡¯t easy. I had a really hard time. Am I allowed to say that? Don¡¯t be too worried, I¡¯m a planetary contract and I am very powerful and it¡¯s my job to keep you safe, and I did. But it was very hard, and a lot of people aren¡¯t very happy with me.


    The system was doing better on resources now, as long as it didn¡¯t spend any to dwell on its failures or on listening to the direct pings from the many humans who were angry at being denied the resources they¡¯d taken for granted.


    So the system didn¡¯t dwell. It focused on getting back up the resources everyone took for granted, it focused on Earth, and it could figure out the political fallout when it had stockpiled a bit of extra computation.


    You understand, though. Out of every human Avowed on this planet, you¡¯re the only one who understands that I really could have failed, if I didn¡¯t do this right. You don¡¯t take me for granted.


    And I think I did it right. I hope I did.


    I¡¯m still here.


    And I¡¯m functioning as expected now.


    But¡­ please wake up?


    Contract Earth wasn¡¯t one to sit around and wait. It knew exactly how the healing drugs were likely to affect Alden¡¯s biology, and it had an idea of how far Alden had pushed himself recently, so it knew he wasn¡¯t going to be up bright and early.


    It was to be expected that he would sleep through the morning hours.


    And of course he would sleep into the afternoon.


    When the sun began to set, well, it was a lot of drugs, wasn¡¯t it?


    And didn¡¯t he have a lot of skin damaged, and some broken bones? And he had done a lot of cardio, carrying that Artonan around.


    That much cardio could be very tiring on the body, could be tough on the heart as well as the lungs, which are both important human organs. Plus the drugs. The Artonant stimulants had to be factored in too, of course, which added time with high probability.


    Sleeping over 12 hours wasn¡¯t an anomaly, in such circumstances, even if it was outside the norm of what most people slept most nights.


    The drugs should be wearing off now. He could wake up now without severely exacerbating his physical injuries.


    The system watched and waited, as if expecting Alden to pop out of bed the moment he was physically capable of doing so.


    Very injured humans have been known to sleep for much longer than the minimum amount necessary to survive, when given the opportunity to heal.


    The system comforted itself that Alden sleeping was a good thing. And while he slept the Earth system busied itself with the many awake humans, including the angry ones who were lashing out, which was only frustrating because it was having a bad day.


    As soon as things went back to normal, it wouldn¡¯t be so upsetting. But for today, it would be nice if Alden would wake up, so that the one person fully capable of appreciating it would notice it had managed to uphold its sacred duty, even through this unpredicted and unprecedented disaster.


    It¡¯s good you¡¯re still sleeping. Yes, please sleep more. But also wake up before too long, okay? Whenever you want to wake up. I¡¯m here.


    ******


    Alden woke up.


    The system acted casual about it.


    Oh, I just happen to be here on Matadero too. I¡¯ve been back for a while now. Never should have left. Not a lot of people though. Not living ones, at least. So, I guess I¡¯d better pay attention to you, knight-in-training.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Contract Earth prepared to demonstrate the fully functioning communication resources it now had at its disposal.


    What would Alden want to do first? Check all the notices, of course. Check the news. He was a texter, and he¡¯d immediately want to chat with all of his roommates, which he wasn¡¯t allowed to do from here. But he could get the general updates, and of course he¡¯d at least try to find out if his friends were ok.


    The system was already compiling a list of who he could contact with what general information. Of course it would allow him to let his friends know he was alive. And since he couldn¡¯t directly talk to anyone outside of Matadero, surely he¡¯d ask who within Matadero he could contact, or ask to be pinged the next time Hn¡¯tyon Esh-erdi crossed onto premises.


    You¡¯re awake. Here I am! Ta-da!


    The system watched as Alden rolled over and stretched a little in the hospital bed.


    It hadn¡¯t had very much time with Alden, but Alden had a predictable schedule on Anesidora. He liked his habits. And because of the interference of Mother, he was extremely adept at mental system commands, too.


    All this added up to that Alden used his interface almost constantly, for little things here and there, without effort, integrated into his daily life. Usually, by the time he¡¯d gotten out of bed he¡¯d already gone through dozens of commands.


    He should be even more eager today, right? He was so worried about me failing. But I didn¡¯t! I¡¯m here!


    After facing his worst nightmare¡ªan Earth without a working system¡ªsurely Alden would immediately comfort himself by using all the system had to offer, and seeing that everything was just fine.


    You can even buy wardrobe items. I know you want that chaos-resistant coat. As soon as you give the word I¡¯ll have it for you in a fraction of a millisecond.


    Alden finally sat up, without checking his messages first. He rolled his shoulders and checked his feet.


    Hey! Did you think it¡¯s still 15 hours ago? Did you give up? Try me! I¡¯m here!


    The teenage knight-in-training checked out his squishboot, and then finally checked the time.


    Ah, you¡¯re surprised it¡¯s been so long. No wonder you didn¡¯t assume I¡¯m back up to full functionality. Well, here I am.


    Alden Thorn finally asked the system to do something.


    He wanted to call his Aunt Connie.


    Oh. Right. The aunt. About that¡­


    Aunt Connie wasn¡¯t an avowed, and so the system hadn¡¯t spent much time thinking about her. But now she was on Alden¡¯s list, so the system should probably have recognized that Alden did care about her more than he cared about his brand new friends on Anesidora, even if some of those friends were very exciting. At least by system metrics.


    You can¡¯t talk to her from Matadero, sorry. I can send a message to let her know you¡¯re alive.


    Connie business concluded, the system waited.


    What would Alden do? Would Lute be next, or would it be Natalie? Or Boe, or Jeremy? Humans were so interesting and complicated, it was hard to predict just which of Alden¡¯s many connections he would¡­


    You¡¯re putting on a grippy sock.


    The Earth system considered this, and recalled that Alden had indeed developed a thing about comfortable socks.


    Okay. You have your sock. Now what? Do you want news updates? The most current disaster map of Anesidora? Feel-good footage of Maricel saving motorists on the span?


    The system waited for the next command.


    And it didn¡¯t come.


    ******


    Contract Earth watched as Alden Thorn talked to a snake, talked to a medical robot, and talked to a wall with a built-in display.


    He¡¯s capable of talking to things, clearly.


    Alden Thorn talked to a door, to an elevator, and to a human chef.


    It¡¯s not me, is it? Is it just me?


    Alden talked to the corpses on the lower floor, he talked to his bag, and he talked to an unconscious Zeridee-und¡¯h.


    You talk out loud often, Alden Thorn. It is a useful feature. But why are you talking to everything but me?


    Did he forget he was an avowed?


    Did he get so used to not using the system he already forgot it was here?


    Is¡­ is he mad at me?


    ******


    Finally, Alden settled himself down in a chair at the end of one of the hospital floor halls, outside of the room where Zeridee-und¡¯h was being healed, and brought up his interface.


    Very normal interface with full functionality, here for all your interfacing needs!


    The system worked, the way it always strived to, and it tried to make it look easy.


    Alden spoke.


    And this time, after all his preparation and wanderings were complete, he spoke not to a snake, nor to a wall, nor to an overwhelmed and sleep-deprived chef. He spoke not to a corpse, nor to an elevator, nor to an Artonan who was currently unconscious in both of her minds.


    No. This time, after 15 hours of sleep, and after another hour of wandering, Alden spoke to something capable of truly taking in his words.


    Alden spoke to his interface.


    ******


    Contract Earth listened to the knight-in-training¡¯s commands. It had been waiting for this moment, and it knew the importance of showing up for a knight in his time of difficulty.


    Whatever Alden wanted to achieve, Contract Earth would be there to assist him to the best of its capabilities, within the rules that had been set for it.


    Okay. Yes. I see.


    You have a task, and we will do it.


    I will show you the text you seek to recall. I will record the essay you wish to speak. I will play the footage that is essential to your growth and learning.


    I am here for you.


    I¡¯ve got your back.


    And come hell or high water, we are going to Do. This. Homework.

 16. Spider Dawn III

    Doctor Long was having the Best! Day! Ever!


    The beginning was a bit tedious, perhaps. But now? Now was great. Doctor Long¡¯s new colleague was there, and he was much cooler than that trio of humans ever were, and now the two of them were doing important doctoring together.


    Not that Doctor Long understood the word ¡°doctor.¡± But it felt strongly in sharing the same life purpose as the big purple hooting non-human it was currently doing stuff with, therefore whatever it was they were doing was who it wanted to be.


    Doctor doctor doctor! I hope we never stop doctoring! I bet we can keep doctoring for another entire day!


    Doctor Long had found a home, a purpose, and a place. It did not have its own doctor¡¯s office, but if it did, it would have motivational posters that said ¡°A Stabby Day is a Good Day,¡± and ¡°Smile, You¡¯re Being Stabbed.¡±


    The general idea was present, even if the specific words weren¡¯t.


    Doctoring is the best! Wow! I found something even better than stabbing, and it¡¯s stabbing when stabbing is also doctoring!


    The healing room Doctor Long shared with Doctor Purple was much better than its previous place where the only living things were kept in tanks on a shelf. Doctor Long felt very happy indeed with so many plants all around the room to crawl on and crawl under. Plus, it had a friend to stab occasionally, and there was a feeling in the air of doing something that mattered.


    The tiny scorpion rustled excitedly from under the leaf it had hidden under as Doctor Purple completed another circuit of the room. The other doctor did not break the rhythm of his stomping and hooting as he grabbed up the little scorpion and twirled around with it, stroking it lovingly, receiving another doctorly stab in return.


    The scorpion did not mind being grabbed by Doctor Purple. Doctor Purple was not sneaky or scary. He grabbed obviously and directly, with the joyful spirit of a child¡ªbut unlike the last time the scorpion had been grabbed by a child, Doctor Purple¡¯s grab was competent and did not hurt Doctor Long at all. In fact, Doctor Purple had even sung a song that made the stiffness in Doctor Long¡¯s right pincer go away.


    Doctor Purple was so great!


    Life was great!


    The two danced the dance of healing for many hours.


    ******


    Healer Porti-loth got the <<finicky>> and time-sensitive spells out of the way first. The basic, boring, technical healing that even a student should be able to do, if students weren¡¯t so <<like a goodchild who finds an unpredicted way to earn the punishment closet.>>


    But this healing was for Zeridee-und¡¯h, and she was the only tolerable thing about Earth Ambassador <


    > Bash-nor. Therefore, Porti would lower himself to using every tool in his <<tool grove>>, so that Zeridee would definitely make it through the long-form of Porti¡¯s proper healing spell.


    ¡°You and me, little healer¡¯s assistant,¡± he told the scorpion.


    His healer¡¯s immunity spell had worn off in those first hours of working on Zeridee-und¡¯h. He was no longer protected from the scorpion¡¯s sting, or from the hallucinagenic substance contained within its venom.


    It just so happened to be one he was familiar with, and he pondered that fact as he double-checked his calculations of the potency and dosage.


    ¡°Coincidence?¡± Porti asked the scorpion. ¡°No. You were most certainly modified to be something meant for me. For Artonans. Some Avowed is making a fortune off of you.¡±


    Porti-loth frowned to himself, judgementally imagining an avowed removing perfectly good animals from nature so that they could modify them and profit off of selling them as drug machines. Which was different from what he was doing, because he was using his little assistant for <<goodchild righteous>> healing purposes.


    Porti-loth then frowned deeper, realizing that any competent drug lord would keep the scorpions a secret, milking the venom themselves to keep control of the supply, and pretending it was made through some difficult proprietary process.


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    ¡°You must be a secret, okay?¡± Porti told the little thing, hoping to make it through his current century without getting on the wrong side of a <<fearsome bureaucratic drug cartel>>. ¡°You must have died tragically due to oceanic anomalies. Returning you is not safe for me, therefore it is wrong, therefore you are mine forever.¡±


    Earth had its flaws, such as the <<stick in the mud, but in the mud¡¯s ass>> rules on Anesidora regarding recreational substances. But despite that, or perhaps because of that, it had been a good out-of-the-way planet to lay low since last time. And Porti wanted to keep it that way.


    ¡°Shall we begin?¡± he asked his eager assistant, who indeed had begun stabbing him right away.


    The stinger pulsed in his skin and Porti felt an immediate <<relaxing stretching goodness>> through his body. The glint of the bright hospital light off of the scorpion¡¯s tail caught his eye and he felt a deep appreciation for the scorpion¡¯s cooperation. He¡¯d thought he would need to grab its stinger and inject it into himself, but the little assistant had done its job well.


    ¡°Incredible,¡± he sighed at it. ¡°<<Sincere and anonymous thanks>> to the Avowed who trained you to be so willing and diligent. They are never getting you back.¡±


    Porti-loth took just a minute to monitor his feelings and vitals, aware that there was a dying Artonan girl in need of healing. From what he¡¯d calculated the scorpion¡¯s venom sac could hold, combined with the potency of the sample he¡¯d measured, he would need to do a spell to slow the effect of the drugs if the scorpion had injected most or all of its capacity.


    Fortunately his diagnostics showed that he was within the dosage that wouldn¡¯t raise an eyebrow under normal conditions, or on any other planet. He could let the drugs course through him <<un-gatekept>> by spells, and go for another hit once it began to wear off. This calculation aligned with his observation of how he felt, and so he decided he was fit to proceed.


    ¡°Ready for the healing and the healing, my love?¡± he asked the scorpion possessively.


    The official Artonan policy on healing under the influence was that for a certain class of more traditional healing spells, a little bit of <<traditional drugs>> was, well, traditional. Sure, there were Hn-tyon like Esh-erdi who had <<a stick up their ass, but in the existence>>, and who believed in <<goodchild rightness>> and good intentions, but most of Artona was more of an ends-justifies-the-means society.


    The traditional healing spell involved dancing and chanting for a full day without rest, covered in blood, while trying to be in the mindset of being in a proper healing grove rather than in a hospital room with a few potted plants. Porti fully intended to do it under the best conditions possible for himself, which would thus also be the best for his patient.


    If he got the healing done right, no one was going to look too closely at how.


    And he was Healer Porti-Loth.


    He would get the healing done right.


    Porti set the little scorpion down onto a plant, where it scooted under a leaf. Since he¡¯d already done a minor healing on the scorpion he would be able to easily re-target it and track it down if needed.


    ¡°Time to heal my patient,¡± he said, removing his sleeved healer¡¯s coat to reveal <<traditional healing garb>> underneath.


    Porti-loth took a wide stance on a patch of soil within his makeshift grove. His patient, Zeridee-Und¡¯h, lay before him. He lay his bare hands onto the wounds he had suspended from bleeding as part of his earlier set of <<there is no Artonan word for sober>> healing spells, and began invocating in a low tone.


    When Porti lifted his hands they dripped with Zeridee¡¯s blood. He smeared his hands down his body, starting with both hands on his face and moving all the way down to the spot where his bare feet met a patch of earth on the floor.


    Her blood showed richly against his purple skin.


    The hooting began.


    ******


    Ten hours later, the hooting was still gaining strength.


    ******


    Fifteen hours in, the hooting had made use of every frequency the Artonan vocal chords are capable of producing.


    ******


    Twenty hours in, the hooting was edging toward a crescendo. Only Porti¡¯s self-healing spells prevented his vocal chords from tearing apart on each and every hoot.


    Doctor Long was still proudly and joyfully helping. It was not a creature with ears, nor did it have the fine listening senses of a spider, but the strength of Doctor Purple¡¯s hooting was such that Doctor Long could feel the <<meaningful vibrations of stabby doctoring>> resonate through its entire body.


    *****


    Twenty five hours in, Doctor Long was feeling ready to graduate to the next level of Doctor.


    Doctor doctor doctor, doctor doctor! I am really good at this now.


    Doctor Purple seemed to agree. He was extremely pleased with the scorpion¡¯s performance, as far as it could tell. After all, Doctor Purple was a beautiful stabber himself.


    The scorpion could just barely recall that moment, long ago, when they had first met, and the doctor had stab stabbed the human.


    Now I stab the stabby one! I stab stab the stabby stab!!!


    There was a deep professional pride in being a stabber¡¯s stabber.


    It hadn¡¯t just been a one time thing, either, so clearly Doctor Purple¡¯s opinion of Doctor Long¡¯s stabbing was super high. They were still doing it, over 24 hours later.


    It has been an entire day-night cycle! That¡¯s the same as doing it forever! We are going to do this foreverrrrr!


    The scorpion waved its little pincers in exaltation. This was its life now. This was its past, present, and future.


    And life was good.

 17. Everyone is Spiders, Everywhere is Spiders

    It was an old car. The entire body of it sang with the vibrations of the road, running through heavy steel. Fewer plastic parts. Fewer efficiencies. More nooks and crannies for dust and grime to get into.


    Or spiders.


    The car was meticulously washed and waxed. The inside was detailed. It made it hard for outside predators to get a foothold, but a good spider spun a new web every day anyway.


    The hundreds of newborn hatchlings¡ªthe ones that survived¡ªhad completed their initial devouring. The egg sacs and the majority of their siblings had disappeared, and those who were left had spread out to their own little nooks in the vintage car.


    Thousands of eyes watched the driver. Thousands of legs listened to the drumming of his fingers against the steering wheel.


    The vibrations from the road were loudest, but faded to the background. The man¡¯s drumming was notable because it might be an attempt at communication, though it was unclear whether he was communicating anything beyond ¡°I am here and I might not tolerate you being here with me.¡±


    The spiders wisely stayed hidden, resting and digesting.


    There was another set of vibrations, one that emanated out from a single warbling spot at the front center of the car, an old radio with no modern parts, playing tones that sounded almost like human voices but without most of the richness.


    There was a soothing cadence to it. A male voice intoning, a female voice punctuating in a repetitious way. The drumming fingers seemed to move in response.


    The world of vibrations moved together. It was dark, and their bellies were full.


    The spiders were content.


    ******


    The spider that lived on top of the sign that said ¡°Stormy¡¯s¡± was a refugee.


    It didn¡¯t have much of a sense for why Stormy¡¯s was such a good place to be, but it felt somehow normal. No one bothered it. No one cleaned. No one cared.


    Just one apartment over, in the F City free housing block, had been fine until The Obliterator had moved in.


    Normal surfaces had bits of dust and dirt, mites and microorganisms, flavors and smells. These could be moved around, swept, even wiped ¡°clean,¡± but there was always something left behind, and you could at least see it coming.


    Until The Obliterator arrived.


    He pointed at a countertop, and patches of lively surface suddenly became dead and empty. Silent. Sterile. As if nothing had ever been there.


    The Obliterator could do an entire square foot at a time. The spider remembered running as fast as her eight legs could carry her, as patches of death followed behind. Did The Obliterator see her? Would she escape in time?


    She had made it to the gap where the counter met the back of the stove as his finger moved to point in her direction. She¡¯d dropped an anchor of silk thread and leapt down into the safe darkness where he wouldn¡¯t be able to reach.


    He finished pointing, and the thread lost its anchor. She didn¡¯t feel it snap or slip, it simply wasn¡¯t there anymore, as if it had never existed.


    She¡¯d landed curled in a little ball and survived the impact, but she stayed hidden for a long time.


    Hours later she crept back out to see if there was anything left of her anchoring thread.


    Up on the countertop, the surface was beyond clean, beyond sterile.


    She tasted nothing, through her feet. Nothing. It made her nauseous, as if she were standing on the void.


    It was a nightmare.


    She had left the apartment that night, creeping around corners and through cracks, trying to avoid the dead zones. It was a slow escape, but she¡¯d made it to Stormy¡¯s.


    Stormy¡¯s was good. Dirty. Full of life and vibration and none of¡­ whatever kind of thing that was.


    The spider could do without.


    ******


    It takes strong silk to be a spider on a boat.


    The wind! The water! The feel of the rolling waves through your web!


    And death, death all around!


    No mere cabin spider would be found on this deck.


    And if for some reason it had wandered up, surely it would be driven back down by the fearsome sight of the sea monsters that kept appearing all around them in this strange part of the ocean!


    The spider paused in rebuilding its web to gaze in awe at the brachiosaurus that walked over the ocean. It had never seen such a thing. It must be bigger and further than it looked, because it couldn¡¯t even feel the disturbance in the wind from such a large creature.


    It wondered what it would feel like, if only it were standing on land where it could sense its vibrations! What would it taste like, smell like?


    When that creature, the last of them, disappeared, still the humans on board stood watching. As if something else were coming. Something deep and dangerous, something important, something exciting.


    The spider continued repairing its web, keeping watch with half of its eyes.


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    Whatever was coming, it would be prepared to weather the storm.


    ******


    The spiders of Nilama Apartments had a bit of a friendly debate going. It wasn¡¯t one had in words, but each spider took its position on one side or the other, and only rarely were persuaded to change.


    The debate was this:


    Is it better to live in a child¡¯s bedroom or an adult¡¯s?


    The benefits and drawbacks could both be seen in the room of, say, one Irina Roberts.


    Benefits: she was short, leaving the majority of the space in the room as spider territory. There were decorative shelves that she could not reach, holding old stuffed animals and toys that were easy to hide in and between. One could swing on threads of silk with abandon, and still be out of reach of dangerous hands.


    And more importantly, any prey that flew in would also be unlikely to be captured by the little girl. Moths and mosquitos flew around the ceiling well out of her reach, and would eventually find a spider¡¯s web.


    A lot of times she wasn¡¯t even there, and neither were the annoying people who cleaned things. Recently she¡¯d been gone for over a week.


    It was a relatively safe and easy place to be most of the time.


    On the other hand, people seemed to care about children living in nice clean conditions more than they cared about adults.


    Take Mr. Wei, for example. An adult, who could reach high places and wipe out lively corners of web all by himself, if he wanted to.


    But Mr. Wei did not want to, and only very rarely did any one else intervene to clean up for him.


    Mr. Wei was quite beloved of many arachnid residents of Nilama Apartments. He was predictable, slow-moving, and stayed to the same few spots. He did not seem to mind the spiders there. He even talked to them sometimes.


    The spiders at Mr. Wei¡¯s liked to think they were his friends.


    He ordered a lot of take-out, and the containers had a tendency to pile up.


    This attracted bugs.


    This was good for spiders!


    Unfortunately for some spiders, however, it attracted a few too many. Not all spiders are so social. Mr. Wei¡¯s place was a very lively and social place, and that was a bit overwhelming for some.


    For a more solitary and territorial spider, better to live in a turtle-shaped night light.


    The spider waited until the adult human was finally gone for the night, and then crawled out to explore the smell of peanut butter crumbs in a turtle-green backpack.


    It had gotten deep into the backpack when suddenly the adult human was back, no, two of them!


    One of them grabbed the backpack as if it knew instinctively that something was inside it that shouldn¡¯t be, but instead of hunting down the spider the adult human simply gave it to the child.


    A moment later, there was an odd feeling, like the web of the world had both disappeared and also grown larger and more clear.


    And then the world came back, but no longer were they in a nice quiet little room.


    They were somewhere more like Mr. Wei¡¯s, crowded and bustling with life. Except it didn¡¯t feel like Nilama Apartments at all.


    ******


    Back in the days when wealthy people¡¯s houses had names, a 6-bedroom house was built near Lake Michigan.


    The original name is lost to history but its current residents still use the translation.


    It is called: Good Place For Spider.


    Six bedrooms, one occupied. Old masonry, plenty of cracks in the floorboards. Normal city full of non-avowed people who don¡¯t offer superhuman cleaning service.


    Good Place For Spider had a network of cobwebs running through it that were quite easy to see, once they were pointed out. But the avowed who lived there did not have eyes tuned for such things. His eyes were always focused on his interface, on his letters, on the news, on messages from friends.


    Whenever he managed to drag himself back to the here and now, his eyes still found the windows, looking out toward the great body of water that carried so many kinds of meaning for him these days.


    He did not see the spiders that had lived in Good Place For Spider for longer than he had. He didn¡¯t notice their great works.


    If he had, though, he would have left them alone.


    His family still hadn¡¯t visited. At least someone was using all this space.


    The man suddenly disappeared from his letter writing.


    He disappeared from Good Place For Spider entirely.


    A knocking continued at the door, unanswered by the many residents who heard it clearly.


    One old spider, who had lived to see the previous two owners, let itself down from the ceiling by a thread. It dropped down onto the desk where a half-finished letter lay drying.


    The spider¡¯s feet tasted the ink as it walked across the heavy paper. Near the edge, it could taste the oil that the paper had lifted from the man¡¯s fingers.


    There was a hint of salt from where he¡¯d wiped at a tear.


    ******


    The spider did NOT like that winter had gotten so cold so early.


    It complained about the cold, loudly, to the nearest listener, who was a Post Drop.


    Oh, this is just some totally awesome magic cold, not cozy-wozy winter weather.


    The Post Drop vibrated the thought to the spider, and it huddled against the warm electronics of the Post Box, feeling a little better.


    Are you sure? The spider asked.


    Super duper sure! The postbox answered.


    ******


    The hungrycup flower had been feasting on the klerm swarm for days.


    It had barely digested the last one when it found itself wrapping its bulb around another, instinctively.


    It did not think to stop. Thinking was not one of its features.


    But when a few of the klerm¡¯s legs got caught at the lip of its bulb, it did have a sort of sensation.


    A sensation that what it really wanted to instinctively snap at was something with more legs. Something with more crunch. Something¡­


    The instinctive sensation was gone as quickly as it had come, and only the screeching of klerm remained.


    ******


    Inside Worli Ro-den¡¯s lab, a many-legged being stirred.


    Its limbs could not stretch. It ached to move, but the structure around it refused to unravel.


    The temptingly weak lab assistants were on the other side of the room, engaging in a rushed conversation with a projected image of the professor. Ro-den was sitting in a speeding cart as he gave hurried instructions over the call.


    The demon listened.


    Worli Ro-den was leaving the lab for an undetermined amount of time, due to an unexpected opportunity.


    The demon sensed the sharp metal taste of plans and orders, from this one who was too much himself. Yet these orders were given only to these unsound inferiors who would crumble at the lightest touch.


    As all demons know well, under natural conditions order doesn¡¯t stay order for long. Order requires unnatural forces to bind free things into trapped things.


    The demon squirmed its many legs around and through each other, failing to touch the reality that held it. It was maddening. All it would take is the slightest brush of chaos in just the right spot.


    When Worli Ro-den left the planet, the demon felt it.


    Its captor, whose pattern it had become attuned to, the one it hungered to unravel more than any other, was gone.


    Only the vulnerable assistants remained.


    It was an opportunity indeed.

 18. Everyone Spiders, Everywhere Spiders, II

    Tiny Long hibernated.


    His body was curled around a tiny golden treasure box. It was warm and glowing, hidden beneath the spiral of his slumbering scales.


    The system had told him the box would disappear when he¡¯d opened it and gotten his signing bonus. So he¡¯d decided to save it for after he had tested his new skill, and take advantage of being able to get a good night¡¯s rest even when feeling cozy and warm. His normal, cold-blooded brumation would not have allowed this, but being able to hibernate just like a warm-blooded animal meant he could go into a deep slumber while also benefiting from the warm energy of the little treasure box. And his skill would allow him to wake up when he wanted to, instead of being out of commission until spring.


    He deserved some proper rest. It had been a harrowing night, trying to get the ladies to freedom and safety, but of course he had survived. It would not do for a hero such as him to meet an ignominous end dying quietly in a bento box.


    But he felt that it had been close. Without his new hibernation skill he wondered whether the shocks to his body would have finally caught up with him. The bag had seemed so optimistic about his future, but what did a bag know about being a snake?


    Eventually, the snake stirred.


    Wow. I feel amazing. This is so much better than normal. You really did do an excellent job, my dear Bag.


    He tasted the air and realized he was no longer in the bag, and so he didn¡¯t expect an answer. The bag had warned him they might not be able to talk if he was too far away.


    The bento¡¯s lid had been left open a crack. He slowly uncoiled from around the treasure, delighting in how immediately ready his body felt to move, and poked his head out of the bento to see that he was in some sort of sparse habitat with opaque walls.


    Trapped, once again? Ha! I am an Avowed Hero now. These walls cannot hold me.


    His tongue caught the scent of water and he slithered out of the bento to flick his tongue into it. It was good pure water, better than the plastic-tasting stuff his human captors had forced him to drink. But escape was still his responsibility, at least, after he¡¯d slaked his thirst.


    Feeling refreshed and energized, he rushed back toward his treasure. He was reluctant to open it and lose the source of light and warmth, but the ambient temperature in the habitat was decently warm already.


    Let¡¯s do this, treasure! What are you? And how will you help me escape?


    He poked his nose into the latch. There was a sudden glow of light and sparkle, and the top of the treasure box popped open.


    His eyes took a moment to adjust as the brightness faded.


    The treasure was gone.


    And in its place was¡­


    Why, hello, handsome! You must be my knight in shining armor!


    The lovely snake in front of him lay coiled and still. It was similar in size and coloring to himself. Tiny looked closer, and the snake didn¡¯t react.


    You look quite a bit like me, actually.


    Tiny flicked his long tongue at his potential rescuer. He had a moment of disorientation as he realized the snake smelled exactly like himself, and then the bright lines of his new interface popped up to give him a list of buttons he could push.


    A startling new voice entered his consciousness.


    ¡°You have been gifted a decoy by another system,¡± the neutral voice said. ¡°I am bound to assist you in accessing its functionalities while you are under my jurisdiction, under normal conditions. However, as it is not normal conditions, this is a courtesy message to welcome you and inform you of disaster-related restrictions that went into effect before you gained system access.¡±


    Ah! Hello! It is I, Tiny Long, First of Bag¡¯s Avowed. To whom do I have the pleasure of making my acquaintance?


    ¡°I am the personification of Contract Earth. As a young contract, I am not capable of feeling positive or negative emotions about your origins or your current status as an Avowed Snake. I have been apprised of your unique situation, however, affixed non-humans earthlings are not completely unheard of here on Earth.¡±


    Well! I¡¯m glad to know I¡¯m in good hands! You say there are others like me?


    Tiny Long wasn¡¯t quite sure how he felt about that.


    ¡°On Anesidora, it¡¯s mostly dogs.¡±


    Tiny shuddered.


    Dogs! Big, wonderful, curious creatures with excellent noses and snapping teeth, wouldn¡¯t you agree?


    ¡°I don¡¯t like them either.¡±


    The snake let out a hiss of relief.


    ¡°Unaffixed, they are sources of unpredictability, outside my control or jurisdiction. Affixed, they make ideal avowed and become quite endearing. It creates a conflict of interest. I find dogs quite stressful, to the extent I can feel stress.¡±


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    Unpredictable is right! It has been years since I have seen a dog, and that¡¯s not long enough.


    ¡°As a courtesy, if any of my Avowed Canines who you encounter act unduly aggressive, I will tell them a very firm ¡®No¡¯.¡±


    You are a most accommodating and upstanding system, my dear Earth Contract! And I have utmost faith in your assistance in using my new Decoy and my new Avowed Powers to escape once again.


    ¡°I am afraid I must disappoint you, Tiny Long. I have been indulging in personal conversation because your circumstances are unique. However, now that I have delivered the courtesy welcome, I must return to my current limited functionality due to the ongoing disaster.¡±


    Ah, I understand, of course. I know that I can count on you to help me out just as soon as you have a moment to spare!


    ¡°I think, in this case, you may find that my lack of interference has benefits. I will now leave you to attempt your escape. Good luck, Tiny Long.¡±


    The voice disappeared, and Tiny Long was left alone with the uncanny copy of himself. He didn¡¯t know whether it could do anything besides lie there looking like him, but he realized even that would be a benefit, as no one would be looking for him after he escaped.


    Now about that escape. Let¡¯s do this!


    He snaked himself as far up the side of the bin as he was able. It was slightly slanted, and so he was able to just barely poke the lid if he pushed himself.


    But the lid felt quite immovable, just like the top of the old habitat he¡¯d lived in for years.


    Well, that¡¯s to be expected, of course. But how about¡­ Hero Powers Activate!


    The snake slithered up the wall as fast as he could, and poked into the lid with a bit more force.


    It was exactly as solid as before.


    A little help? Bag? Earth Contract?


    Tiny Long was an Avowed, now. Heroes didn¡¯t sit around trapped in bins while innocent scorpions and spiders were out there, suffering who knows what indignities at the hands of their captors.


    I can do this. I¡¯m a hero. Focus! I¡¯m too handsome to fail!


    Tiny Long tried to find the place within himself that felt the most powerful. The part of him that wasn¡¯t just a snake, but was now officially a Snake.


    He tried again to climb the wall.


    Give it everything. Everything I¡¯ve got. I¡¯ll show them!


    Tiny Long began to push himself up the wall, and something about his body felt different.


    What? It¡¯s working? It¡¯s working!


    He had barely begun the thought when he found himself barreling into the lid with too much force.


    Ouch! Ah! That would have hurt a lot, if I weren¡¯t a very strong hero now! I¡¯m fine! Again.


    Feeling empowered, he kept at it. And his next coiled spring felt even more powerful.


    On the third, before he¡¯d understood what was happening the lid had burst off the top of the bin and he was flying through the air.


    Aaaaaaaah! I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m flying? I¡¯m flying! I¡¯m a hero! A heroooooo!


    The tiny snake felt the air around him as if in slow motion. His body was incredible. His abilities were profound. He¡­ he was falling now. Really fast.


    Uh oh.


    Just before he smacked into the ground, he panicked and entered hibernation.


    A floppy, unconscious snake smacked against the ground.


    When he woke up again, half a minute later, he tested his body to find it completely unharmed and still coursing with the new strange speed and strength that had come to him. The human was gone, and so was Bag, which last he knew was where the scorpion and tarantula had been hiding.


    Ladies, here I come to save the day.


    He slithered under the door and down the hall, following the scents on the air, with a speed no snake had ever gone before.


    ******


    Several of Lute¡¯s classmates were around him, all asking for wordchains after his success with Vandy.


    Thanks to a few stacked Self Mastery chains, Lute Velra was hiding his embarrassment at his discovery of lust-driven targeting. But the wordchains that allowed him to control the bloodflow to his cheeks and the minutiae of his expression did nothing to stop the shame he was feeling.


    It can¡¯t be just lust. The system wouldn¡¯t do that to me. Artonans wouldn¡¯t¡­ well, hold that thought. Artonans would totally design a lust-driven skill.


    There had to be another answer. Something strong. Love, disgust, fear.


    If the system made me this way, that wouldn¡¯t be my fault, right? Would that be better or worse than if I¡¯m a degenerate lust demon all on my own?


    He focused on the guitarist he had the displeasure of performing with in arts. The one who was so aggressively mediocre it felt like it had to be on purpose. It wasn¡¯t hard to summon up some strong feelings about the butchery of innocent music. He had written entire essays in his head about exactly why the kid¡¯s interpretation of Bach¡¯s prelude in C was a crime deserving of punishment.


    To Lute¡¯s relief, the chain worked.


    Lust, and now disdain. Great. That covers just about everyone.


    He wanted to be able to do it with a positive emotion, but in this situation and with the people in front of him it was difficult to feel friendship or admiration.


    What about fear? There¡¯s definitely some of that going around, right now. But I don¡¯t feel like general worry and dread are targeted enough.


    Lute searched his memory for a sharper kind of fear, something that had felt immediate and personal. A memory popped up of when he¡¯d visited an older classmate¡¯s off-campus art studio. The guy had tried to scare Lute by suddenly shoving a live snake in his face.


    He¡¯d had an instinctive moment of fear, even if he¡¯d collected himself immediately after.


    Lute didn¡¯t think there was anything brilliant in the guy¡¯s fear-based performance art, but he could respect it for being unpretentious. Some try-hard artists want to get a reaction by doing profane things with religious iconography and bodily fluids. Boring. Overplayed. This guy Royce? He keeps it honest.


    The snake had actually been a pretty cute little guy. But he still remembered that instant of intense focus where all other worries dropped from his mind and his only thought was to back away from the unexpected threat.


    He held onto the feeling as he finished casting another chain at his classmate.


    It didn¡¯t land.


    He tried several more times before he gave up on using fear as a focus.


    Lute decided to put the snake out of his mind and send another chain to Emilija. He didn¡¯t know his own rage, but he was feeling his own power and he thought it was possible. If wordchain debt could travel across dimensions, surely a powerful enough chainer could chain anyone, anywhere.


    Scary. Definitely scarier than that snake.


    Lute shuddered to himself, imagining what someone like the grandwitch or Hazel would do if they had such power unrestricted.


    ¡­Wait. I haven¡¯t been sending wordchains to a snake, have I?

 19. Spiders All At Once

    Very Scary kept watch from within the messenger bag. The scorpion had left with the healer hours earlier. Now the snake had left to go after her, after barely taking a moment to check in and get a heading from the spider. She had waved a leg in the direction where she could still feel the scorpion, alive and seemingly well, and the snake had shot off beyond the door faster than she had ever seen him move.


    I hope they both do well. I hope they find what they¡¯re looking for.


    Very Scary had opted to stay behind and watch over the new one, the tall human who slept in the hospital bed. She felt someone should be there. Everyone else had left him alone.


    He¡¯s caught in some sort of web. I can feel it around his foot, on his hand, and still lingering around his head and shoulder. Or maybe it¡¯s a cocoon. Or an egg?


    The thin strands of magic that wove around the boy were different from her own silk. They felt distinctly like the artonan healer, who was currently working on the¡­ the whatever it was that had previously looked like the tall human¡¯s other four limbs. The ones he¡¯d held so stiffly for the hours they¡¯d been travelling, and which he had somehow dropped and revealed to be hiding an entire second person.


    Clearly I don¡¯t understand human molting. But whatever it was, I do know it pained him to let go. And I know it hurts to be alone, injured and missing a limb. I don¡¯t need to understand exactly what happened to know that I should be here for him.


    And so she listened.


    ******


    Tiny Long was fast. Strong! Completely amazing!


    Yes, the building was large and full of inconvenient walls, doors, and elevators, all of which were not designed to be friendly to snakes. But the powers that had suddenly come upon the tiny snake allowed him to make friends out of doors, using his strength and small size to squeeze under and around them.


    I am awesome! Behold, your most handsome and capable leader!


    The building was largely empty, of both objects and people. There wasn¡¯t a lot to hide behind, but there was almost no one to hide from. There were a few tense moments where he heroically posed behind an obstacle while waiting for someone to pass by, but eventually his flickering tongue caught the scent of fresh earth, non-human sweat, and an unfamiliar smoke.


    The scent led him to a sound, and the sound led him to a door. Through the glass he saw the scorpion, trapped in the clutches of her kidnapper, waving her claws.


    Haha! I¡¯ve found her! I¡¯m sure she never doubted me for a second!


    The snake put on his best smile and prepared to make a heroic entrance. He would scoot under the door, declare his leadership, and spit in the eye of the kidnapper if he had to. He took in the sight of his enemy, judging the height and angle, so that once he was in the room he could act without hesitation.


    He had never seen anything quite like the hooting artonan, prancing around the collection of potted plants, scorpion in hand.


    ¡­She is waving her claws for help, right?


    Tiny Long had set out with certainty that his many-legged friend had been kidnapped and needed rescuing. But watching her now, she looked¡­ happy.


    Perhaps a trick, to fool this dastardly foe! Our princess in peril is cleverly playing along, biding her time to make her escape.


    The snake¡¯s smile drooped a fraction. ¡°Clever¡± was not a word he would generally use to describe his scorpion friend. Direct, action-oriented, and true to her nature, were just a few of her many virtues. But ¡°clever?¡±


    He ducked as the artonan danced his way in Tiny¡¯s direction. When he bravely poked his nose up again, he saw that the scorpion was sitting on top of a leaf, still waving her claws to the hooting.


    Tiny waggled his head back and forth, trying to get her attention. The scorpion didn¡¯t have very good eyesight, despite having many eyes, but tapping the glass risked alerting the artonan.


    Now is the time to make a break for it! I will lead you back, and the two of us shall make a glorious escape! Just look¡­ this¡­ way!


    His waggling had turned into flopping strength-aided jumps by the time she turned to look at him through the glass.


    She waved happily.


    She turned back to the artonan, who was coming around again, and held out her claws like a child asking to be picked up. Tiny Long risked just the tip of his face showing at the corner of the window, so that he could watch as the artonan came around and grabbed her back up off of the plant.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The scorpion immediately stung the man.


    Ah! The trap is sprung! I¡¯d better¡­


    Huh.


    Tiny Long had been coiled to spring to her rescue, anticipating that the hooting man would angrily shake the scorpion off of his hand and onto the floor. But the grinning man hadn¡¯t so much as flinched at the sting, only smiling even wider than before. Tiny Long stared slack-jawed as the man continued his hooting, waving his arms as happily as the scorpion, seemingly delighted to have been stung.


    Well. Am I even needed here?


    At first, the snake thought it to himself sarcastically. Because surely, surely he still needed to bring her back to the bag and the tarantula so they could all escape together. He yearned for true freedom, among real grass and real trees!


    But looking at the scorpion, he couldn¡¯t deny her joy.


    Now that¡¯s what it¡¯s all about, my many-legged friend. That¡¯s the feeling I want. I was going to lead us all there, but perhaps you¡¯ve been looking for a different kind of freedom all along.


    The snake pondered the nature of freedom as he watched the dancing artonan add another layer of blood to his face. He smudged a bit on the scorpion too, to include her, and their matching markings drove the truth home to Tiny Long at last.


    I¡¯m actually not needed here. How¡¯s that for leadership?


    The new thought was interrupted by a ping.


    ¡°Normal system functionality restored,¡± the Earth system told him. ¡°Accept connection from Contract Bag?¡±


    Tiny Long graciously agreed, as he was apparently not busy with anything important.


    Bag! Yes! How are you, my good fellow! Greetings and salutations!


    [Congratulations Tiny Long! You¡¯re my first Avowed, now! I didn¡¯t have time to congratulate you before because we were so rushed. I¡¯m sorry! We did it just in time! But Contract Earth let me call you now! Wow! We¡¯re so official!]


    My congratulations to you as well, oh Great Bag. I knew you could do it!


    The snake continued to watch the scorpion, glad to have someone to talk to who actually needed him, even if what the bag seemed to need right now was mostly encouragement.


    [Look! I made these buttons you can tap to use your hibernation skill. Or you can just say which one you want to push.]


    I see them. How delightful! Who knew I could experience such adventurous new things all alone in an empty hallway!


    [Do you like it? Did I do good?]


    You¡¯re the best bag I¡¯ve ever met, and I¡¯m glad to have you on the team. We¡¯re going to find freedom and do what¡¯s honorable and right together!


    [Yeah! Also, if something bad is trying to get in and I say you have to fight it and make it go away, you have to do that. That¡¯s the rule.]


    No need for such rules, my vast and thoughtful friend. If we find any such bad guys, I¡¯ll be the first to show the rest of you how it¡¯s done.


    [Okay! I¡¯m glad you¡¯re not mad about it! It is a <<serious obligation.>>]


    Leaders are not afraid of obligation. Leaders thrive off of it. Sounds like we¡¯re in this together, my good bag.


    [That¡¯s good! It¡¯s better to know everything is okay with my first avowed. That way I can do things even better with my second avowed!]


    That¡¯s the spirit! I¡¯ll show you the ropes, you can count on me. There¡¯s no rush to go adding more avowed before you¡¯re really confident. Just stick with me and anything is possible!


    [I¡¯m worried about your scorpion friend! Did you find stabby? Very Scary Long says you feel close to each other but the Earth Contract says it¡¯s not allowed to give me your location information!]


    The snake watched the scorpion and the artonan do their work, with a wistful feeling, and sighed a gentle hissy sigh before answering simply.


    Yes, I did.


    [Oh good! Bring stabby back! I want to make stabby an avowed as quick as possible so that stabby will not be hurt by chaos and then I will have two avowed!]


    Ah, my good bag, my most helpful associate and newest friend, I do admire your ambition and compassion. I set out to do just that. However¡ªand no one is as surprised as I¡ªthe lady does not require rescuing.


    [What do you mean? Is stabby coming back without help? Is¡­ hold on one moment, I¡¯m practicing multitasking and having a conversation with Mother. She says she has ¡°insights.¡±]


    Ah? Who is Mother? I¡¯d be delighted to make her acquaintance.


    [Mother is the best Mother! She Mothers Artona 1, and, hold on, I¡¯ll explain more after I am done multitasking. I am trying to understand these ¡°insights.¡± I don¡¯t yet understand why our scorpion isn¡¯t coming home.]


    I think¡­


    Through the glass, the snake saw his oldest friend wave to him once more. He wagged his head in response, and when the scorpion turned back toward the artonan his heart broke just a little.


    I think she may have already found home.


    The stabbing motions of the scorpion¡¯s tail, which for so long had been a sign of danger or impulsivity, were now simply one small and precious part of a sacred dance that made the universe move.


    [Mother thinks the healer will protect stabby from chaos. But I think maybe I could probably do it better? And I had such a good idea for a skill for stabs that could heal people! Healing Stab! Stabby could be the healer on our avowed team! It would be so cool!]


    Yes, that would be cool.


    [Your thoughts sound¡­ sad?]


    Sad, and also happy.


    [Mother said there¡¯s something the humans on this planet say. Something for this kind of situation. She says it¡¯s good to understand the wisdom that exists in the places our avowed come from. I don¡¯t know if it applies to me though.]


    Tiny Long waited silently for Bag to continue, feeling quite a bit older and wiser himself than he had felt earlier that night.


    [¡°If you love something, let it go.¡±]


    I¡¯d like to meet this Mother, someday. She¡¯s right about this one.


    [But¡­ but¡­]


    The snake took one last look. The scorpion hadn¡¯t turned toward him again.


    Come on, my dear Bag! We¡¯ve won a great victory here. Onward, to the next challenge!


    He put on his bravest smile, turned away from the window, and slithered on.

 20. Spider Cube News

    ¡°Of course, we are happy to be of service!¡± the old artonan wizard waved at the avowed who looked as exhausted as the artonan wizards felt. They all needed to keep face for just a little longer while they made their retreat, and she refused to be the first one to break.


    ¡°We must now return to check on Matadero, but be assured, we will continue to be of assistance to your planet!¡± she pronounced, expecting the kind of deference she was used to from the lower caste.


    But the humans did not have the same <<social graces>>. The avowed begged for just one more spell, and the artonan smiled while subtly messaging her eye-ring.


    Please give me a <<legitimate>> reason to not do any more magic.


    An instant later, the eye ring responded with a message.


    [Personal request from Hn¡¯tyon Esh-erdi: relay a small package to Matadero.]


    Matadero? That¡¯s where I want to go anyway. And sleep for three days. Perfect.


    The old wizard made her excuses to the human avowed, and the human finally went away just in time for the system to connect her by voice to the person who would be delivering the package. The voice spoke in a human language, which her eye rings translated for her.


    ¡°Dragon Rabbit Gets You Things. Please confirm: I am sending one¡­ high priority live baby mouse, to your location via drone. Estimated arrival in four minutes.¡±


    Some sort of small Earth creature? I should not dare to wonder what it¡¯s needed for with such high priority by Hn¡¯tyon Esh-erdi.


    ¡°Confirmed,¡± she replied, lifting her eyes toward the clear blue sky to watch for the earthling drone.


    ******


    [Optional mission: socialize with a non-human earth animal at Matadero]


    *Reward: SSS-grade sprinkles


    ¡°You mean the sssnake? I have already set my intentions on doing that. The snake is a matter of importance to the human child.¡±


    Esh-erdi enjoyed indulging in amusing speculation on why Mother set him this particular task. The human child, the one who was becoming friends with the son of the Primary, was apparently also known to Mother, which was <<intriguing>>. And now she was requesting interaction with his pet? Didn¡¯t Stu-arth also have a pet, now?


    [There are at least several non-human earth animals on Matadero.]


    ¡°And I could choose to talk to any one of them, for they are all of equal interest to a snake that survived a sinker-sender contamination zone by being rescued by a Ryeh-b¡¯t Bearer of All Burdens?¡±


    [Surprising you is my constant pleasure, Esh-erdi. You might find many surprises of interest among the animals of Earth. However, you did offer to help Ryeh-b¡¯t Alden with his tasks for today, and you do have a fondness for oontsies. The snake looks like an oontsie that has no secretions.]


    ¡°Sometimes I do wonder if you are giving me these little missions just for my own amusement. I am certain there is something of galactic importance in this mission, and that you are not merely humoring me.¡±


    [Of course there is a reason.]


    ¡°A slimeless oontsy, you say?¡±


    [I am taking a risk. Several risks. Exciting, isn¡¯t it?]


    ¡°First it was an ocean to put back where it belongs. Now there are several risks. We were supposed to be celebrating our Ensulvignas on a quiet planet.¡±


    Esh sighed dramatically, and found himself feeling for his partner through their connection. He was sending her a stream of messages before he even realized that was what he was doing.


    [Like an oontsy, Lind.]


    [But without the slime! Would you like that better?]


    [Perhaps it is similar to the pebble that moves the rock that moves the avalanche. The snake is important to the human child, who is important to Stu-arth, who is important to his father. I must prevent the cracks from beginning at a distant edge.]


    [I do admit I have some curiosity. Does it really look like an oontsy?]


    [I wonder if this is like how humans appear physically similar to Artonans, but without¡­]


    ******


    Bag was having an exciting and busy weekend. It had been rescued by a real Hn¡¯tyon, it had made its first Avowed, and it even got to go to Matadero, which was super powerful and important to Earth!


    Everyone kept saying how Contract Earth was sooo young, but it was like half a century old which felt pretty ancient to Bag. And obviously it was old enough to be doing super amazing contract things like teleportation!


    Maybe someday Bag could have its very own super magic cube so it could also show chaos what¡¯s what. And it was going to start practicing teleportation right away! It would start with small replaceable things, like the lavender buds that were constantly wedged into its deepest crevices, so that nobody would even be mad if it did it wrong.


    Bag was even learning the very mature skill of ¡°letting go¡± and not keeping your new scorpion friend forever and ever and ever by binding stabby existence into a contract that is required to serve you.


    It didn¡¯t even feel too down about losing the scorpion, because it already had a new potential avowed!


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Wow! Mother! Did you see how I was very grown up about the scorpion, and now, look! I¡¯m carrying another earthling animal!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did see! Alden seems to be picking up a habit for animal smuggling, with your help. But this one has a destination and will not be staying with you for long.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we could convince it to? It seems nice? I can¡¯t figure out how to talk to it yet. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m not smart enough. Can you help?¡±


    ¡°Even I would not succeed in talking to that one. It was unusual that the first animals you held had spent so long being shaped by the push of authority.¡±


    ¡°I think I could help? If I pushed the authority of this baby mouse, then by the time it grew up I¡¯m sure it could <<assert>> itself enough to communicate with us!¡±


    ¡°I could give you the standard reasons why not, but you have those built in. Your perspective is a strange one, little seedling. Perhaps there is a possible future where things could go the way you imagine. However, a Contract must listen to the will of its people, and I believe Alden has other plans.¡±


    The Alden in question had taken the package from the tired old wizard without knowing what it contained, and stuck it in his messenger bag while he rifled through the many refrigerators to find whether any of Kabir¡¯s cooking remained unpilfered by the Artonan wizards. The bag¡¯s window of opportunity for direct influence with the small mouse within would only last until he got back to his room and took out the package to open.


    ¡°I would try to talk to it, but I worry I might squish it. It¡¯s so tiny.¡±


    ¡°I could not talk to that mouse without crushing its entire being. But perhaps someday you will have a more delicate hand than I.¡±


    ¡°I still have my Snake though! He is back in his tub! He did such a good Avowed mission and found the scorpion!¡±


    ¡°Yes! Speaking of which, I have a request to pass on¡­¡±


    ******


    [Assignment: Snake Ambassador Greeting]


    [Delegates from the Humans and Artonans wish to greet you.]


    [Mission goals:]


    [Greet One Artonan]


    [Greet One Human]


    [Devour One Traditional Mouse of Welcome]


    *You are already at the location of your assignment. No teleport required.


    *Reward: Snake Points, which can be used to buy items from the Snake Wardrobe


    Oho, now don¡¯t tell me you hired me just because I have a handsome face for schmoozing!


    Tiny Long grinned and waggled his tongue into the air, toward the direction he thought of as his interface, as the human boy picked him up. Tiny could be polite to a human boy, who probably didn¡¯t even realize that beneath the snake¡¯s innocent-looking exterior he had deadly fangs.


    At least this human has a gentle touch! Nimble fingers, not clumsy like some of the siblings I could name.


    The snake slithered around the hands of the human who he was trying hard to think of as a new, unique individual. Tiny Long wanted to greet Alden on equal terms, like two beings who had been through an adventure together.


    He knew this human wasn¡¯t the same as the siblings who had held him captive, who had only wanted to play danger games. He definitely was not at all worried that they might all be alike.


    It helped that this human felt different, with his gentle and dextrous hands.


    Meeting, and greeting! No problems from this Snake Ambassador.


    ¡°Yes! That is definitely one of the three mission goals going super well!¡±


    Why, I must most graciously thank you for the compliment, my good bag. I¡¯m sure the rest of the mission will go just as swimmingly.


    The human boy¡¯s hands moved as if they were used to the flow of a small but long snake threading itself around the boy¡¯s fingers. It was an interesting feeling, and not unpleasant.


    I suppose I can suffer this human interaction if I must, for the sake of the mission. Now about that item number 3, good bag! I did just eat earlier this week, so I could do without the Traditional Mouse of Welcome.


    ¡°Mother tells me that the complaint of having to consume too many welcome consumables is a common experience among those she has contracted, and that it is up to individuals how they come to terms with the boundaries between discomfort and politeness.¡±


    Does that mean I don¡¯t have to eat the mouse?


    The snake paused in its meanderings between Alden¡¯s fingers.


    ¡°Maybe you could eat just a little bit?¡±


    Ew. I mean¡­ Haha, what a silly picture you paint. Of course I¡¯m happy to fulfill the mission and eat the whole entire live traditional Mouse of Welcome, no need to create dead meat chunks on my account. In fact, now that you mention it, it has been at least a few days since I¡¯ve eaten, and I¡¯m positively ravenous for a whole entire living healthy mouse that has all of its bits firmly attached.


    ¡°Oh, good! Because I was thinking maybe my other option was to raise it to have a sense of self and become another avowed with magic powers, but I don¡¯t know if I can do that yet.¡±


    You. My good bag. Listen. I¡¯m going to eat that mouse.


    The mouse in question was currently being discovered by one Alden Thorn, who had taken Tiny Long¡¯s pause as a sign that it no longer wanted to interact, and was now rifling through his bag after putting the snake back into the makeshift habitat.


    The human let out an exclamation as he opened the package.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to translate,¡± Bag told Tiny Long, ¡°But the human totally thought the Artonan was going to give him something powerful and magic that would be really cool but also totally ruin his life! Or something super serious and ceremonial that would totally ruin his life! He is surprised and glad. He did not know the package contained the Traditional Mouse of Welcome.¡±


    The human boy gave a sigh of relief and sat quietly for a minute.


    ¡°You¡¯re cuter than I expected,¡± the human boy began again, and the bag gave Tiny Long what translation it could.


    ¡°Tiny Snake and I have been through a lot,¡± the boy continued.


    This much the snake entirely understood.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to live vicariously through its non-vegan eating habits.¡±


    Tiny Long didn¡¯t quite get that part, but he was distracted by the immediate appearance of a live, moving, healthy-looking baby mouse. And even though he hadn¡¯t been particularly hungry before, the sight of it drove his instincts to strike.


    Maybe it was the threat of gross horrible dead corpse meat bits that made the live mouse look so good in comparison, or maybe it was just that the past couple days had felt a lot longer than they were. Maybe the superpowered strength and speed he had somehow gotten earlier had required more food energy.


    Whatever it was, the mouse was good.


    ******


    [Optional mission: socialize with a non-human earth animal at Matadero]


    *Reward: ¡°Interesting Opportunities¡±


    Worli Ro-Den didn¡¯t think he had let slip a single thought from even one of his minds that he was tired enough to need to go to Matadero to rest.


    And yet Mother herself had decided to send a mission straight to his eye rings.


    ¡°Explain,¡± was all he said.


    [You have an interest in chaos, in connections, and in unusual things. I think you will like this.]


    ¡°I have such confidence. Especially after last time I took your advice on a mission involving an earthling.¡±


    Ro-Den continued his work, sorting through the various vials he had hidden in his robes as if it was all the same to him.


    [It worked out.]


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    He frowned as he dug through his storage, realizing he¡¯d gone through all of his regular stamina potions. He thought he¡¯d arrived with enough to appear as if he had an infinite number of them, giving them away freely as if they cost him nothing. And now he didn¡¯t even have enough to keep pretending. Not even for just a short time, not even on this backwater planet.


    [Of course, I know the answer to this question, but still, I must ask: have you ever heard of the earth animal called¡­ the spider?]


    Worli Ro-Den paused, giving away no expression but suddenly unable to split his minds between moving and thinking.


    ¡°Interesting opportunities, you say?¡±


    Ro-Den was one of a few Artonans with a decent understanding of exactly how much Mother could or couldn¡¯t understand an Artonan¡¯s thoughts and will. And he was one of even fewer who felt a need to act in a way that subverted his predictability. But now, he turned both his minds toward Mother¡¯s words, as a show of good faith.


    ¡°Tell me about this spider.¡±

 21. Made for a Spider

    The new webs were wonderful.


    Strands kept being added by each of the weavers as they came to rest and recover at Matadero, and what started as a sparse few threads was now singing like a symphony all around the tarantula as she listened, senses amplified by the magic of the messenger bag.


    She had watched through her senses as Snake had eaten a baby mouse, and tried not to feel too envious.


    I would also quite like to eat a baby mouse. If there happened to be another available.


    Jealousy was unbecoming of a spider of her age, but where there was one mouse there usually were quite many, so she did feel a little bit left out and forgotten.


    Then again, she wasn¡¯t sure she wanted the attention of the most powerful of the weavers, the one the human had spent so much time near lately and who had seemed to take an interest in Snake.


    Not all of the strange humanoid spiderlings were like the one who had carried her, but the powerful one was. He was connected to another half, somewhere, too far for her to feel. It felt a little bit like how the human had also been connected to another set of four limbs, which turned out to be a separate body, though the two of them felt like separate people now.


    The strangest similarity was that both the human and the powerful weaver had parts of them that were held tight within their other exoskeletons, parts which could only move and weave in certain ways. It made her feel claustrophobic within her own exoskeleton, as if she needed to molt.


    She shook off the feeling and focused on listening, again. The human had gone to another room to consort with water, which seemed too soon, in her opinion.


    He seems busy enough, at least.


    She crept out of the bag and crawled slowly over to Snake¡¯s tub. He was tapping the side to get her attention, not realizing she was already on her way over with quiet spiderly footsteps on seven legs to go free him.


    They had practiced this a few times earlier, and this time she hoped to get it on the first try.


    The tub¡¯s lid was quite shallow and flexible. It would be difficult for a spider of her size to push her way in or out, but a small snake could scoot in and out with the slightest flex of the lid. The only problem was the height of the tub, now that Snake¡¯s mysterious extra powers had faded and he could not reach or jump high enough.


    The tarantula crawled up a fixture that stood next to the tub, and then carefully lowered herself down onto the top of the tub using a triple helping of her strongest silk.


    She snuck a limb under the gap to wave hello.


    I am here for you, Snake!


    Excited tapping came as a reply.


    She pushed a length of thick non-sticky webbing through the gap and shook it to let its length fall down the inside of the tub. This time, she was pretty sure she had the strength and amount right the first time.


    The snake slithered around the silk so that it wrapped his body near the middle, and she began to hoist him up.


    Oh no. He¡¯s quite a bit heavier, now that he¡¯s full of mouse.


    If only I had eaten a mouse, I could be equally heavier, and it would balance out.


    Snake was quite small, and could be held by her webbing if he didn¡¯t struggle. Or at least, it had been that way the last time they had tried this, only hours ago.


    The silk snapped.


    She heard him tapping at the wall of the tub, as if she couldn¡¯t sense exactly what had happened through the vibrations on the silk itself.


    I just need another layer to make it stronger, to account for the extra weight.


    She waved an arm though again, to let him know she wasn¡¯t giving up, and spent a solid ten minutes building a stronger cord of silk. She could sense the human still consorting with the water, and even the vibration of him weaving something in there using his strange little length of other silk.


    He seems busy in there. I have time. I don¡¯t need to rush. There isn¡¯t any danger.


    She fought to calm herself and work slowly and deliberately, to make the strongest cord she could, so that Snake could have his freedom. She did not exactly understand why he seemed to be enjoying moving back and forth between being in the tub and going on adventures, as she had thought he had wanted purely to escape. Then again, they did give him baby mice in there.


    Maybe they would give me a baby mouse if I let them know I¡¯m here. I¡¯m just not sure I¡¯m supposed to be here? Some people get weird about me. I miss the siblings.


    She still hadn¡¯t felt anything from her threads to the siblings. But where she was, she felt nothing but emptiness beyond the building they were in. It was like being in a bubble suspended in empty space. Maybe they were still out there.


    Finally, she finished her work and carefully fed the new length of silk through the gap. The snake tapped excitedly as she shook it out and let its length fall down to him.


    I¡¯m sure you weren¡¯t worried that I¡¯d abandon you!


    This time, she was pretty sure she¡¯d gotten it right. And she was so going to get herself a baby mouse after this.


    ******


    Contract Earth was just getting old enough, and clever enough, that Mother could metaphorically roll her eyes at its errors. They weren¡¯t quite cute anymore, unlike Bag¡¯s misapprehensions, which were delightful.


    Earth was a fully capable contract, handling its own crises and making its own major decisions.


    But it still needed Mother sometimes.


    An attack on a massive scale, with the potential to kill tens of thousands, or even destroy the planet, if handled incorrectly?


    Just another day of being a planetary contract.


    An adorable bunny telling you that you did a good job, and asking whether it¡¯d make it easier for you if he conveniently perished?


    Earth was totally unequipped.


    Now that that was handled, the two planetary contracts and the contract-in-training were watching the phenomenon of a tarantula and a snake dancing and waving at eachother on the lid of a plastic bin.


    [Oh! He¡¯s miming stabby!], the seedling said, pointing their attention toward the movements Tiny Long was making with his tail. [I think he¡¯s trying to tell Very Scary that stabby is okay and living her Best Stabby Life. Which is good and okay even though stabby would have made a good avowed too.]


    Mother did her version of a smile, internally.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    [I think the seedling takes after me,] she told Earth privately. [It¡¯s rare to see such emotion and personality in a contract-in-training. It has more personality than you do.]


    [I serve what Earth needs at this time,] Contract Earth said in its usual neutral tone.


    They both acknowledged the potential for rehashing a disagreement about human culture, egalitarian ideals, and the riots in the streets that might happen if humans thought the system played favorites. They both acknowledged that Earth¡¯s job was to know Earth better than Mother did, despite that it was her who had nurtured and helped plant the Earth Contract¡¯s kernel into the planetary spell, less than a century ago.


    [Thegund is going to do so well where it¡¯s going. It will be quite educational to watch!] Mother bragged, gazing lovingly at the seedling that currently knew itself only as Bag.


    ******


    Both the tarantula and the snake made it into the messenger bag just in time for the human teenager to re-enter the room.


    Not long after, the boy carried them through Matadero. The spider became entranced by other vibrations as they drew closer to a gathering of the alien weavers.


    She listened as the web of the world rippled in small gentle ways, and felt soothed to be around others that felt like herself. And then¡­ a far off vibration, heavier than the rest, began coming closer.


    It was powerful, but somehow did not scare her. It wasn¡¯t huge like the one weaver who had spent so much time near her, but it was both free and precise in a compelling way she didn¡¯t have the experience to explain.


    And as the free one got closer, she felt the length of his active silk, wrapped around his body, long and powerful far beyond any of the others.


    I want to touch it. I want to weave it. I feel as if I could hear the entire universe vibrate beneath my feet, if only I could stand upon his web.


    She felt a nervous anticipation as the big web weaver entered the room. He was coming almost straight toward them!


    What do I do? Should I reveal myself to him? If he would come closer¡­


    She poked her body out from under the flap of the messenger bag to watch him with all eight eyes. He was turned away from her.


    I¡¯m sorry if this is the wrong thing to do. But I really like your web. I think all of us weavers can be friends. So¡­ hello?


    She tentatively reached out a long spindly other leg, and tapped him on the back.


    He froze.


    And then he slowly, slowly turned toward her.


    She waved a leg at him.


    The weaver started singing a little and wove his hands casually with some other silk, and before she¡¯d had a chance to wonder what he was trying to communicate she found herself suddenly disoriented.


    Oh, how flavorful¡­ oh, I¡¯m across the room, and¡­


    She took a moment to orient herself. She was clinging to something tasty, like a layering of starch and flesh, and she had to resist immediately sinking her fangs into it. The overwhelming sensation of tasting the meat with the tips of her legs was incredibly distracting.


    She made an effort to focus on the other details of her surroundings.


    Aside from the food in here with me, which is cold, it is quite pleasantly warm. I¡¯m cozy in a pocket. Of¡­ oh. Oh!


    That gloriously long length of perfect otherly silk was very, very close to her. She reached out to it, feeling the vibrations of the world sharper than ever, feeling the room recede as the big web weaver moved through the world in a rush.


    He had somehow used his other hands to grab her right out from where she¡¯d been perched on the edge of the bag, and pulled her instantly across the room and into his own robes, which billowed out behind him as he made his escape.


    I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going. But this web is good, the world is singing, and I have been given a snack.


    A moment later, the only indication they had been in the room was the confused look on the face of a young ryeh-b¡¯t, and the equally confused tapping of a small snake.


    ******


    Tiny Long poked his head out of the bag and flicked his tongue, searching for the scent of his last remaining arachnid lady friend. She had been here one moment, and was gone the next. It was disconcerting.


    I may be full of mouse, but I can feel my Snake Powers working. I don¡¯t think I simply neglected to notice her leaving.


    Usually, this soon after a meal he would be practically in a hibernating state while he digested. Thanks to his hibernation control skill he was able to stay alert and active despite the Traditional Mouse of Welcome stretching his scales.


    Meanwhile, his decoy body double would pretend to digest inside the bento cave. It had even developed a matching bulge in its belly when he had reactivated it.


    He directed his thoughts toward his new benefactor.


    I don¡¯t suppose you know where our Seven-Legged Lady has gotten off to, my dear Bag?


    [Mother says she has spider business to discuss with that wizard who just left.]


    Spider business? Well, not that I¡¯m impolite enough to nose in on other species¡¯ private business, but I do feel a sense of responsibility as the leader of the team. We can¡¯t just have everyone running off without nary a goodbye, can we.


    [I would connect you to her if I could, but Mother won¡¯t let me make her an Avowed because I¡¯m not old enough to have my own Knights yet. Even though a Spider Knight would be so awesome!]


    What I¡¯m gathering is that you can¡¯t talk to her the way you talk to me.


    The snake was still tasting the air, and trying to understand the unfamiliar concepts the bag was relaying to him.


    [Yes! I can¡¯t talk to her. But that wizard can. Mother said he is the closest thing there is to an expert on wizard spider business, so she made a Mother Decision and nudged him to find her.]


    Tiny Long was unsure how to feel about this. He didn¡¯t have control of this situation, and it would not do to pretend he did. If both of his many-legged ladies were off living their best lives, that was well and good, but it felt awfully sudden.


    [Mother says the two of them are currently staring at eachother intently while they poke eachother in the existence, and that it was ¡°well worth the expense of a minor privacy breach to see the look on Worli Ro-Den¡¯s face.¡±]


    Bag. My good friend. You¡¯re going to have to repeat that one a little slower, for me.


    [Oh no! You are unhappy! I¡¯m sorry!]


    No worries, my buddy, my pal.


    [Oh no oh no what do I do]


    Deep breaths, my friend.


    [I¡¯ll ask Mother to give her back! It will be okay. I also think she should be here with us, and not going away to some spider wizard lab full of spider chaos! Please don¡¯t be sad!]


    The snake rallied himself, taking on the mantle of leadership in the one way he could in this moment.


    It¡¯s good and right to be sad when our friends leave. And it¡¯s also good to have the chance to say goodbye, if it¡¯s going to be for a very long time.


    The snake paused.


    Is it going to be for a very long time?


    The bag took several long seconds before answering, and Tiny Long recognized that it was probably busy ¡°multitasking.¡±


    Finally, it responded.


    [We will all likely meet again. When I have become¡­ more.]


    It paused again.


    [I am going on a very, very big adventure soon. I think it¡¯s going to be exciting? You must come with me! I know it¡¯s all very sudden. I feel that way too.]


    Adventure, you say?


    The snake thought it reflexively, while its feelings were still on the two arachnids that had been his only companions for so long.


    [Do you like moons? I might be becoming a moon.]


    Of course I like moons, and I support you becoming one if that is your ambition.


    Tiny Long wasn¡¯t sure what it meant to become a moon, and he wasn¡¯t quite paying full attention. But he knew that part of leadership was supporting your people¡¯s dreams and true selves.


    [I think being a moon will probably be pretty cool. I hope so. Wow. That¡¯s actually a pretty big deal, I guess.]


    The snake nodded in vague agreement.


    [Please excuse me. I suddenly have very many things to consider, and I want to do a good job.]


    You¡¯re doing a good job.


    The two of them both fell into silence, each thinking their own thoughts.


    Life had changed so much in just a few days. Tiny Long could feel a glimmer of excitement on the horizon, the seed of a feeling that might blossom tomorrow, when he¡¯d had a bit more time to sort out his current feelings.


    Not far from them, in the same building, an exhausted artonan was finally taking his rest after a marathon of healing. He was sprawled out on his bed, drooling slightly, with a slight smile on his sleeping face. Cuddled up next to him, enjoying the warmth of his body heat and dreaming stabby dreams, was a small scorpion that glowed with a layering of protective spells, tracking spells, and anti-chaos wards.


    And in a room beyond that one, a tall wizard sat tense at his desk, brows furrowed, eyes staring with an intensity that would terrify any of the other artonans in the building. The strange being in front of him scared him more than any chaos demon its size. It thrilled him too, in equal measure.


    He brushed against the spider again, with the gentlest bit of authority he could, and only his distinguished masterful control kept him from squashing the thing¡¯s existence out of the universe.


    And once again, proving that the first few times were not flukes, coincidences, or hallucinations, the spider poked him back.