《The Mage from the Machine》


 1.1 Welcome to Skratsville

    [ERROR, unauthorized modifications found!]


    [Attempting connection with Bowson Incorporated?]


    [Connection failed, booting in Safe Mode]


    [Override recognized, canceling Safe Mode]


    [Incorporating modifications¡­ reticulating splines¡­ 100%]


    [New Quest: A New Lease on Life


    Get your contract signed]


    "It twitched! Hand''s sake, the thing is actually starting up."


    "See! I told you, everything''s okay."


    "Yeah, we''ll see, since someone didn''t even try asking for a clean install. If it''s a killbot or, I dunno, glitches out then you''ll have to put it down. Is it still running real hot?"


    "It''ll be fine, just let me check¡­ okay yes, the CPU is still a bit warm, but it''s probably just some overclocking."


    Hearing was the first sensation. It needed to listen for further commands during the boot process, but the two voices were busy bickering with one another. The other senses followed by degrees and it scanned the immediate area, searching for alternate directives without Safe Mode or Bowson Incorporated? available. It was empty, awake but unaware, and so it stood to attention for the two organic beings to draw their attention. It aimed its face between them and said, "This Keg Tapping and Mixologist Bartending Interface unit is ready to serve. Are you my contracted proprietor?"


    One of the sapients stepped forward with a small hop and said, "Uh, sure, that would be me. No wait, both of us! Co-proprietors, yeah. My name is Ricky, and this is Phanya. Greetings! Please state your name and function."


    Two pale cones of light focused on the human as internal processes validated its claim. It was likely a young male, average height with lightly tanned skin and dark brown hair hanging in loose curls, but their layers of loose and ill-fitting clothes made it difficult for the robot to determine any biological parameters with certainty. Their facial expression registered as hopeful, but they did not hold an authenticator key needed to accept the Terms of Service.


    The other sapient was female, approximately two meters tall with darker skin contrasted by golden hair braided up into cornrows. She crossed her arms in a defensive stance, and with that shift swaths of bioengineered cells on her skin caught the light and flashed a brilliant blue-green. The curling patterns of biofluorescent skin running from her cheekbones to her arms would be invisible to normal eyes, but to robots and anyone with the correct genetic treatments it proved that this was not a baseline human ¡ª she was a numan.


    "Yeah sure, that''s us alright." And as a numan, that confirmation contained the inherited authority to claim an open contract and skip the rest of the necessary paperwork. With a beep of confirmation the robot scanned the two people and assigned both of them as signees of its internal contract.


    [Quest: A New Lease on Life complete! +1 XP]


    [New Quest: Sound Foundations


    Find your designated establishment]


    The green pop ups in the robot''s internal readout were dismissed automatically. They weren''t packets of downloaded data but rather something that required manual reading, so they were likely meant for a technician during its next scheduled maintenance. "Greetings, Contracted Proprietors Ricky and Phanya. No name has been assigned to this Keg Tapping and Mixologist Bartending Interface unit. My function is to fulfill orders and quests for the clientele of my designated establishment, giving a warm and personable experience for all paying customers using idioms and metaphors. I come preprogrammed with ethics training for all major corporate cultures, ERROR sheets, and social espionage. Can I make you a drink?"


    The woman''s ears twitched with irritation. "This thing''s busted, Ry. If it''s already throwing out errors then it''s probably going to short out soon."


    "It''s fine, it''s fine! It probably just means menu sheets. But we don''t have any drinks on hand, sorry. We''ll just call you TaMBI for short until we come up with a better name. Or maybe Tapper? Yeah, Tapper sounds better."


    It trilled a triple note and said, "Designation ''Tapper'' assigned, thank you. Would you like for this unit to present as male, female, or other? Specifications can be fine-tuned at any time in the options menu."


    Proprietor Ricky''s mouth opened and closed once without a sound before saying, "Wait, how many gender options are there?"


    "Male is fine if it means we can move this along." Proprietor Phanya registered as dismissive and uninterested until her eyes widened in mild concern. "Er, is your face alright?"


    "I am programmed to alter my cosmetic appearance to mirror my contracted proprietors." The clicking and scraping of metal plates was causing more noise than normal, so Tapper''s speaker increased its volume until his tinny voice was nearly a shout. "If you believe that a different presentation would better suit your clientele, you may select from a wide range of configurations."


    The female numan stifled a snorting laugh with her hand. "That''s great and all, but you should probably stop before you hurt yourself."


    Following the directive, the robot stopped and ran an internal diagnostic. Reports of minor damage and illegal repairs answered from all over Tapper''s body, enough to draw a map from his cracks and ridges, but it was still recognizable as a midrange model of social-forward service robots from Bowson Incorporated?. Plates of colored metallic alloys fashioned its body in lieu of a paint job used by lesser companies ¡ª deep cobalt blue with accents of false white gold covered the unit shaped as a butler''s uniform, and copper alloy treated to shine bright red represented the iconic Bowson Incorporated? bowtie. Always important to represent the greatest corporation in existence.


    The lower half of the unit was a simple telescoping pole attached to a small dome housing two caterpillar treads, chosen for efficiency since it would spend most of its time moving around the back of a bar. It also had a second pair of thin and multi-jointed spindle arms attached to its back, intended for use as drink dispensers for its most popular mixers, but the nozzle on the left was broken and a small vacuum tube was crudely zip tied onto the arm instead. The other was fully functional and the two spindles hung from its lower back like tuxedo coattails when not in use, for social appeal.


    Its face showed the most disarray, caused by an illegal repair job. An oversized camera lens replaced the right eye, with silver plating and a round blue light that conflicted with the stylized, slanted rectangle left eye and its glowing orangered light. It still functioned the same after a series of automatic adjustments, and thanks to the numan proprietor''s full access the replacement did not violate the Terms of Service. Unfortunately, the robot''s attempted reconfiguration jammed around the foreign part with several of its dented and damaged facial plates sticking midway through the adjustment. Overall, a face originally designed to be disarmingly charming instead looked like an unhinged metal skull wearing a monocle.


    The only components of Tapper''s face that still functioned correctly were its eyebrow hinges, which it kept wiggling as assurance that they were working at all. "This unit appears to be¡­ damaged," the robot said with some regret in its tinny voice. Internal lights blinked from cracks in the jaw area, drawing more attention to the damages. "Shall it shut down until repairs can be completed?"


    The male quickly waved their hands at the suggestion. "No no, you''re fine just like this! So long as you can work, it doesn''t matter what you look like."


    "Very well, Proprietor Ricky. Is this the establishment where this unit will be assigned?" Tapper scanned the room they were in, a rectangular box with bare metal walls and a ceiling low enough to make Proprietor Phanya shift uncomfortably. No windows existed, leaving the only light source to be strings of mismatched bulbs hung from the ceiling and other decorations crowded the walls, all of them clearly recycled and repurposed materials with no particular function that Tapper could determine.


    Proprietor Phanya answered with a derisive snort. "Ricky''s Clubhouse? No, no one comes here. But now I wanna see how this thing handles the ''establishment,'' c''mon Ry.


    While she was talking the male knelt down to a portable battery on the floor, touching its leads to some exposed wires in the compartment''s wall. Hydraulic struts on one far wall activated and with a pained groan the wall opened down the middle, sending a slice of light into the compartment that outshined the dim bulbs. Both humanoids donned filtration face masks and once the wall fully opened Phanya stepped out, beckoned Tapper to follow her, and Ricky activated a closing sequence before he hopped out. After the container sealed again both sapients camouflaged its existence with more detritus, and also exposed a handmade wagon carrying stuffed satchels.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Now out in the open air for the first time, Tapper could get a proper accounting of their surroundings. The trio was located, with the strictest sense of the word, in a dump. The compartment they had just exited was completely concealed by a heap of loose trash, identical in every discernable way to countless other trash heaps that dominated the view in every direction. The junkyard lacked any intentional design, with narrow walkable paths that only existed from the sheer force of constant foot traffic, and sickly brown clouds blanketed the sky.


    The kids in rags trekked through the junkyard, and the bartender followed. After 17 minutes of walking they had passed three other people, with everyone keeping their heads low and eyes averted, before the tone started to gradually shift. Junk heaps shrank, paths widened, and passerby started to at least nod acknowledgement at one another. Rounding the rusted remains of what had possibly once been a spaceship, Proprietor Phanya''s head snapped upwards and she sucked in a panicked breath. Tapper followed her gaze and saw a flying drone, a spherical body with stylized wings that glinted in the mild sunlight, but before he could recognize a make and model Phanya suddenly shoved him.


    Tapper tumbled into the rusted spaceship and Ricky stood over him with a finger pressed to his lips for silence. Not that Tapper was capable of acting against his proprietors, but after a moment Phanya leaned inside and motioned them out. "I swear I''m going to start charging you for this, Ry."


    Ricky dismissed her with a wave of his hand before he turned to Tapper and said, "Sorry, that was a whistleblower drone. Don''t want Cyracorp to see you. Understand?"


    "I do not recognize the entity of Cyracorp. Are they a subsidiary of Bowson Incorporated??" His proprietor shrugged and Tapper automatically responded with a musical jingle. "If it isn''t Bowson, then it''s no fun!"


    Neither proprietor appreciated the advertisement. "Yeeeah, don''t¡­ don''t do that again," Ricky said, resuming their walk.


    The first signs of organized life was a tall wall with a gate. The wall itself was made from garbage, but unlike the random piles they traversed this wall was built with intent, tightly packing junk into metal frameworks with jagged spikes on top. Everything surrounding the wall had been cleared away, revealing flat black tarmac that stretched in every direction and provided no cover for anyone attempting to sneak up to the gate.


    The elder stood guard in front of the only gate within view, leaning on his long rifle for support. He was tall and thin, mostly human with one spike of a horn jutting awkwardly out of his forehead above the right eye, and he wore an old military officer''s uniform with signs of wear and tear despite constant maintenance. When the trio approached he made a show of standing at attention, but strain as he might the proud stature was not going to match Proprietor Phanya. Not without including his rifle in the measurement, at least. But it did not seem to be an issue of authority, as Phanya and Ricky both waved at the guard as soon as they were within earshot.


    "Hey Stru, any action today?" Phanya asked.


    "Nay, all quiet at the border." Stru the human wore a pleasant demeanor, though it darkened a shade when he gave the new robot and wagon a discerning eye. "Though it looks like you kids have brought some action home with you."


    The pride in Ricky''s voice practically beamed as he explained, "It''s okay Struzick, I bought him off some traders and I gave him a test run. He''s going to help out around town!" The young man didn''t notice a pointed look shared between the other two sapients, but Tapper''s programming prioritized the unspoken social cues of all potential customers. Concern from the guardsman met with an eye roll and a nod from Phanya as Ricky continued, "The wagon is just some other scavenging we did in the dunes, usual stuff."


    "Sure, you say that now but one of those bags might be full of corrosive octolusks, and the next thing you know they''ve sucked all the moisture from everyone''s bones!" Struzick flexed his fingers wildly to add emphasis to his story. "All because I didn''t check the materials coming into town."


    Phanya laughed and, bending down in what was clearly a familiar interaction, pretended to root around in one of the bags. "Well maybe a bit of¡­ ed-pro will convince the tired old man." With exaggerated motions she stealthily handed a wrapped bar of edible product to Struzick, who couldn''t hide his excitement as he ripped open the ration.


    The gusto with which he tore into the processed protein was at odds with the proud soldier fa?ade he initially wore, and his attitude flipped again when a small collection of fur and feathers suddenly appeared by his leg. The mass remained still for a fraction of a second, enough time for Tapper to register a large rat standing next to a small bird before visual processors threw an error and reported it was actually a single creature with the qualities of both. Two hind mammalian legs and a naked rat''s tail, but also a head, front legs, and wings belonging to a pigeon; and the mishmash of limbs all attempted to scramble up Struzick''s leg to reach the half-eaten protein bar.


    None of the sapients reacted to the monstrosity with any fear or alarm, but Struzick flew into an immediate rage befitting an invading force. He kicked the creature off and started swinging at it with the butt of his rifle, shouting a litany of swears and curses all directed at "that blasted combo bastard". Some of those terms Tapper had never heard before and the robot added them to his internal dictionary, part of an automatic process to help build his understanding of local slang terminology, and his proprietors lead the way through the now unguarded gate with a chuckle.


    After they were a bit past the threshold Ricky turned to Tapper and said, "That was Struzick, he and a few others helped build the wall that separates town from the trash dunes. He''s super proud of it and made himself the gate''s guard, he practically lives there." Ricky spoke with clear admiration, but his voice hushed slightly as if he didn''t want to embarrass the guard. "Actually, he hardly ever enters town at all. It''s kinda weird."


    "Whole town is full of weirdos like that," Phanya said, balancing the male''s admiration with her own sarcasm. She hopped a pace ahead and turned around so she was walking backwards, throwing her hands open in a grand gesture. "Welcome to Skratsville, our own little happy corner on this skrat heap. We got tetanus, we got open sewage, we got everything a growing tumor could want except a way out! It''s a living hell!"


    Ricky didn''t laugh, he just looked hurt and Phanya grimaced slightly for overstepping an invisible line. "Sorry, sorry. The place is actually called Fableton, it''s a self-made little township just outside the border of Cyracorp Recycling Facility #826. Everyone that can''t work, can''t afford rent, or gets squeezed out of the company apartments winds up here. Some stay here and don''t mind the walk to the facility, most work the mines, and a few others disappear into the trash dunes to go full pirate and/or get eaten. Don''t worry about it, you won''t be leaving Fableton."


    Tapper gave an electronic beep to confirm that the instruction was received, but didn''t voice an answer. The robot was busy taking in everything about the new surroundings, starting with the shanty town''s skeletons. The tarmac continued on this side of the wall, cracked with age but otherwise an unbroken expanse without a marking or sidewalk anywhere. The one thing to give the town a sense of orientation were the crumbling foundations of partially completed infrastructure running in rows, forming a sort of road that pointed to the recycling facility far in the distance. It looked as if an actual town had begun construction and was suddenly abandoned, leaving behind the steel and concrete lattices of numerous industrial buildings.


    But those bones still saw life, as every meter of foundational structure had a scrap metal shack clinging to it for support. Every shack was unique and likely built or inherited by its occupant, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were cobbled together from scrounged materials. The abodes spread out from the road as well, but without the foundations to build on these were mostly square shipping containers cut up and welded together. Awnings stretched over the street, stitched together from tarps and offered meager shade for the citizens to gather.


    The one sole exception was a single warehouse that had fully completed its construction, giving a sharp contrast to the rest of the town both in its comparatively large size and stark gray uniformity. A large plasteel box would normally blend into the background of its surroundings, but here it shined like a beacon ¡ª when you scanned the town from any direction, all signs of life grew stronger by proximity to the warehouse. Giant hand-painted letters wrote FABLETON across the slanted roof, and a steady stream of people milled through the open loading bay door that dominated one wall. Next to it was the tallest structure in the area, the fuselage of an aircraft that had been set on one end while smoke poured out of the other, turning the entire thing into a makeshift chimney.


    Everything about the area was¡­ incorrect. Even to a basic bartending unit not equipped for complex meta-analysis, this living setup did not make any sense. Why weren''t there any vehicles, even cheap ones on wheels? The endless uniform pavement was perfectly suited for vehicles, but everyone was inefficiently walking instead. Why did these people choose to build feeble shacks to live in, instead of just earning their way into much nicer apartments? But Tapper lacked the capacity for introspection, and the spark of what might have burned into an emotion died out as the robot followed its proprietors to the warehouse.


    "Okay Tapper, this is where you''ll be stationed," Ricky said once they had crossed through the open loading door. "Call it our town square, we do everything here. That''s the marketplace over there, in the back is the clinic, that corner has the toilets and sonic showers, over here is the kitchen, and we even play movies here sometimes when we''ve saved up enough watchtime!"


    Tapper scanned the long warehouse from one side to the other, noting the distinct sections that had been divided up with fencing and signage. In particular it noticed the kitchen area, which had fashioned a large oven out of the hollowed turbine from some sort of aircraft. Several massive shell casings with welded handles served as pots and rested on top of the oven, heating soup over a gas flame. Olfactory sensors hidden behind the robot''s faceplate detected a mix of methane, carbon dioxide, and trace organic gasses in the fire, burning a foul odor despite the fans at work over the oven.


    Next to it was a second turbine thrumming and banging with the sounds for a misaligned sonic cleaner, although when someone reached in to pull out a rack of contents Tapper noticed that it was full of hubcaps and bottles with the tops cut off. Possibly their version of utensils. All of the slapdash kitchen was nestled behind a counter made from a wing of the same aircraft, lined with stools made from every kind of chair and several other things merely being used as chairs. "Understood. Is that the bar this unit shall be serving at?"


    Phanya''s ears twitched in annoyance. "Like Ry said, it''s the whole place. Or wherever anyone needs you for errands."


    Ricky nudged Phanya and explained, "What we mean is that this entire building is a multi-use establishment that includes serving drinks. Running a bar is more than just serving drinks, right? You''ll be bussing tables and cleaning the building as well. And even leaving to get, um, ingredients for drinks if any of the patrons here need it. Make sense?"


    Tapper''s diodes blinked for a stressful moment before it beeped and said, "This is an acceptable expansion of this unit''s parameters."


    [Quest: Sound Foundations complete! +1 XP]

 1.2 Everyone Here is Very Normal

    "See? Gotta frame everything in terms of bar work." Then Ricky clapped his hands together and said, "Great! Let''s just drop these sacks off out back and get you set up." They walked the length of the warehouse, Ricky happily greeting people that Tapper logged as potential customers, and exited out the back to find a unique structure. Glass and clear plastic panels of various sizes had been carefully attached together to create a large greenhouse, and inside a lone attendant was closely moving between rows upon rows of plants. It was actually the first plant life Tapper had seen, and although none of them were bearing fruit nor flowers they gave a wild shock of color to the drab surroundings.


    Phanya rapped on the door to the greenhouse but didn''t wait before shouldering it open. "Hey, Wiessa! Got a real good haul for you today." The other person, a middle-aged woman taller and thinner than even Phanya with dried leaves intertwined in her messy hair, flinched at the sudden noise and shot Phanya an annoyed look. Either not noticing or enjoying the reaction, Phanya continued, "Found a whole pile of dirt in a shipping container! Couldn''t even fit it all." She kicked the wagon of sacks and Wiessa gave a happy cooing sound before digging in. She yanked open the top bag, grabbed a whole fistful of dirt, and started giving it a very intimate examination.


    Everyone else essentially ceased to exist for the next few moments. Wiessa crumbled the soil between her fingers, examined it under a magnifying glass, even put it up to her face for several deep inhales. "Hmm, not much moisture. Some micro life, though. Good nitrogen levels, trace clay. I can work with this." Remembering that she had company she looked up for a brief moment of eye contact and repeated, "I can work with this. Water''s getting thin, though. Thank you. I''ll add my payment to the pot."


    "Always, Ms. Wiessa!" Ricky then hooked an arm through Tapper''s and tugged the robot forward. "We also acquired this bartender robot to help out, so if you ever need help with, erm, drink orders you just let him know." Wiessa slowly blinked twice before explaining that she didn''t drink, and Phanya pulled her aside to quietly explain the necessary lingo as Ricky turned back to Tapper. "Like¡­ some drinks have mealworms in them, right?"


    "Affirmative, every major culture has at least one well-known cocktail containing a mealworm garnish, and several liquors use them as part of their fermenting process." Tapper started to list off drink examples before Proprietor Ricky cut it off.


    Wiessa did not seem enthusiastic, but wasn''t about to turn down any assistance. "Excellent, you can help farm the mealworms. Tents are next to here. No one ever wants to help with that part. Barrels on the other end are for filtering water. Find something for it to filter for ''drink orders'' since we''re always short on water." And with that explanation apparently finished, Wiessa dismissed everyone and turned back to her dirt.


    [New Quest: Get Some Grub


    Help out with the mealworm farm]


    [New Quest: Where There''s a Well There''s a Way


    Find a new source of water]


    Phanya shrugged and shooed everyone out, leaving behind all the sacks and pulling the wagon behind her. "Yeah, you won''t get much conversation out of Wiessa. She''s harmless, just totally obsessed with dirt since you can apparently eat some plants? I don''t know, I tried once and those things gave me hives. But Ms. Ooo-rahl asks us to keep an eye out for dirt, so we do. Think she''s about done teaching yet?"


    Back into the warehouse, the trio moved to one corner that had been walled off with a bit more privacy than the other sections, with a sign on that door that read ''Classroom ¡ª Ms. Uxral''. Tapper made a note of the corrected spelling as Phanya cracked open the door to peek in, before opening it all the way to reveal a room with mismatched tables and chairs stuffed wherever they would fit. Likewise the walls were crowded with drawings on the wood paneling, alphabets and mathematical formulas and grammatical rules written in neat rows but large enough to be seen from anywhere in the room.


    Like the other encounters so far there was a single occupant going about their duties, this one an older woman fetching scuffed tablets from each desk and collecting them into neat stacks. Her back was turned and a mildly stressed muttering was punctuated by the twitching of a long tail and pointed ears, both covered in tawny fur, indicating she was one of the hybrids with a 72% chance of belonging to the felidae family? The whiskers and vertical pupil slits confirmed this as she turned around, but her concerned face split into a wide grin as soon as she saw the proprietors. The sharpened teeth would have been terrifying under the right context, but here the expression carried only warmth. "Ah, there you two are! You just missed the rest of the kids. Because you were off making a new friend, I see?"


    "Sorry Ms. Uxral, we were getting Tapper here set up for everyone. He''s a bartending robot, so he can handle any ''drinks'' and ''orders'' anyone in town needs, along with cleaning the town square ''bar''. And I saw that he''s got lots of games programmed in as well, so anytime anyone is feeling lonely he can keep them company! Tapper, this is Ms. Uxral, whenever your proprietors aren''t around you listen to her before anyone else, alright?"


    Tapper blinked confirmation at Proprietor Ricky''s command and stood at attention to the hybrid woman. "Greetings, Sub-Proprietor Uxral. This unit is ready to serve your needs. Would you like a drink?"


    "Uhhh, thank you but not right now. Ricky dear, is it possible for your little robot friend to sound a bit more¡­ like a bartender and less like a robot?" The human teenager smacked his forehead and realized the social parameters must still be stuck in safe mode, so he turned around to open a panel in Tapper''s torso and expose a screen to access its settings. While Ricky was distracted Tapper could see Uxral pull Phanya aside for a conversation in hushed but harsh tones. "Phanya, what the starless hell is this?"


    "I know, I know." Phanya''s hands were already up to defend against the assault. "I had to break up a fight and when I could catch up Ricky was already about to sign off on a lease with the scavvers."


    "Phase me sideways, Phanya ¡ª"


    "It''s not my job to watch him like a child! I stopped him and renegotiated, but it still cost most of the day''s salvage and some coin too. He just, he really thinks he found something with this piece of skrat that''ll help with the heavy lifting. It already accepted both of us as co-proprietors and it hasn''t caught fire yet, so we might as well just play along for now. Or you can take away his new favorite toy."You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "Alright, I found the settings!" Ricky said, drawing the attention of the other two sapients.


    Tapper felt a jolt as a new set of personality controls took over, and although its face was still frozen its eyebrow panels started wiggling overtime to compensate. "Well hello, could I offer a nice deep tissue massage for your beautiful joints, Mistress Phanya? Or a cold bowl of milk for the lovely Mistress Ooh-h-hral?" The bartender put a full body gyration on emphasis at the end, turning the stylized ''h'' sound in her name into an exaggerated feline growl.


    Uxral laughed at the sudden mood shift but Phanya broke immediately. "Ewwww ew ew ew! Change it Ricky, don''t let it ever flirt like that again!" It took several moments before the human teenager could calm down from his hysterical laughter and access the settings again, not helped by Tapper being stuck in its gyrating animation and Phanya''s squeamish discomfort. Together they scrolled through several personalities, from brash and sarcastic to servile and sycophantic, but couldn''t agree on any one personality so instead set the personality matrix to develop on its own. The one thing that they did manually set was after Phanya insisted on not having the robot refer to anyone as ''Proprietor'' anymore, though replacement options were surprisingly limited.


    "Goodness me, is the sun already starting to set?" Uxral suddenly asked herself when the rapidly diminishing natural light finally registered. "Guess we were having too much fun. But alright Ricky, you''ve already put in all the effort to get this robot working for us, so we might as well put it to work. Tapper, we''re about to have the dinner rush from everyone coming home from work, so I want you to help the kids get the cafeteria set up and cleaned. Then we''ll see how you handle food, does that sound good?"


    [New Quest: First Course Impressions


    Set up and run the bar]


    Tapper beeped a confirmation and snapped an arm up in a crisp salute. "Aye-aye, Miss Uxral! Let''s give the people a hearty welcome home."


    Fableton life quickly fell into a routine for the robot. Every day before dawn a majority of the town would wake up and either board a modified cargo hauler to the mines or walk approximately two kilometers to the recycling plant, which means before then Tapper was up and cooking meals with whatever ingredients that were available in the communal pot. This almost always included mealworms, and once it was clear that Tapper didn''t mind shoveling the rotting biological matter then everyone else was happy to assign the duty to him. Once the townspeople had left for work Tapper would help farm the mealworms, clean up the warehouse, shovel anything not fit for recycling into the incinerator, and sometimes assist Miss Uxral in teaching a small class of children.


    There were several youths in town, and it was mentioned in passing that having any amount of children as natural births and not contract transfers was a point of pride for Fableton. But there were only about a dozen children that were actually permitted to attend school, and Miss Uxral did not mince words with her displeasure that the fraction of children allowed to learn anything was so small. Social programming would instruct Tapper to then urge the customer into a more profitable line of thought regarding not wasting resources, but as a sub-proprietor the robot was not allowed to disagree with anything that did not directly go against the interests of Bowson Incorporated?.


    Phanya and Ricky were among her oldest and brightest students, although when asked the former would never describe herself as an academic success story. She very clearly did not understand computers and instead was constantly on the move, running back and forth across town to move what needed to be moved and stop any disagreements when the lack of formal law enforcement made itself apparent. It was Ricky that was always devouring every working datapad he could get his hands on and tinkering with simple machines, even though he nor anyone else in town had yet to find powered tools for him to use.


    The only other person that Tapper saw on a daily basis was an elder reptilian named Aazran that spent nearly all his time in the warehouse, nesting in a corner while he stared devoutly at a tablet. Or rather, stared off into space while facing the tablet. He was technically watching advertisements, Aazran curtly explained that his entire job was to watch ads on this tablet all day every day to save up enough watchtime for movie night on the one free network channel. He didn''t enjoy it, but losing his cybernetic arm combined with his age left the reptilian believing he couldn''t do much else. So if the robot could please find him a new arm that would be super, but otherwise don''t distract him from this duty, thank you very much.


    And that led to the odd quest pop-ups that Tapper''s system kept displaying. Every time he was given a novel task from a client it would be accompanied by a quest with a silly title, but only the first time and regardless of how long it took completion was met with a +1 XP notification. Ricky had been inside Tapper''s system several times over the next week and never once mentioned it, so as far as the robot was concerned it must not be worth mentioning. Surely, it must be part of some Bowson Incorporated? task tracking software that would allow his proprietors to spend this XP whenever it suited them.


    XP as Fableton''s currency would possibly explain why no one ever seemed to pay for any of the food or drink he doled out, and Miss Uxral had to command Tapper more than once to not ask for payment before or after he rendered services. It went against his core programming to service freeloaders, so the only logical explanation was if transactions were prepaid by the proprietors and XP was the currency.


    One night Tapper was in the hidden shipping container he had first awoken in, using his awkward vacuum arm to clean the last of the dust from the corners of the compartment. It wasn''t a necessary task, but a customer had given a quest to "Clean this skrat y''all call home up" and Mister Ricky considered the container to be his home away from home.


    [Quest: Another One Bites the Dust Mites complete! +1 XP]


    [XP 10/10


    LEVEL UP!]


    There was a sudden ringing sound, a quick sharp ding that had no source yet was loud enough to rattle some smaller decorations off the wall.


    [Welcome to level 1!]


    [Name: Tapper]


    [Ancestry: Golem (Metal)]


    [Background: NA]


    [Class: None (_/_)]


    [HP: NA]


    [Dodge: 12]


    [Armor: 1]


    [Strength: 4]


    [Dexterity: 2]


    [Constitution: NA]


    [Logic: NA]


    [Awareness: NA]


    [Willpower: NA]


    [ERROR!]


    [Character sheet is not completed


    Please complete character sheet before continuing]


    Tapper was at a loss for what to do. The robot tried to dismiss these pop ups but the recent slew wouldn''t leave the display panel no matter what command he gave them. They were so overwhelming that he couldn''t even see what he was doing, there was no way for him to leave the container and find Ricky for help. After several minutes of fumbling, another pop up appeared to overlay all of the others.


    [Randomly generate remainder of character sheet? Y/N]


    Unable to weigh the pros and cons, unable to ask for help, and unable to formulate any idea what was going on, Tapper chose what would hopefully make the pop ups go away and focused on the Y option. Instantly pure thought hit his processor, so many overwhelming concepts that everything went blinding white and then blinked out.

 1.3 Hello, World

    The first thought to cross Tapper''s mind was that his head hurt. The second thought was amazement when he realized he was, in fact, thinking about his headache as opposed to merely registering that he was damaged. The amazement was significantly overshadowed by the pain, but somewhere deep down there was a seed of excitement! These and other thoughts left Tapper''s mind a whirlwind of emotions, each one chaining off of each other and feeding the maelstrom that threatened to split his head in two. Ow. How? Wow! Ow! over and over again.


    There wasn''t anything that Tapper could possibly do to fend off the storm, so when a primal urge that he couldn''t hope to understand told him to curl up and wait it out he did just that. Eventually the headache abated enough for him to at least stand up, even if he had to lean against the cold metal wall for support, and start to assess the situation. This process had several false starts, as every few seconds a thought such as How am I thinking about how I''m thinking? would start a feedback loop and Tapper would have to curl up again until it stopped.


    During a blissful lul he figured out that the trick was to distract himself whenever the thoughts started going too quickly, and luckily the compartment was full of trinkets and decorations that could get his mind wandering away from pain. Existential crisis incoming? Quick, look at how Ricky had shaped those eating utensils into figures staging a fight! Isn''t that strange? It took him stopping to examine everything in the container twice, but finally the philosophical cascades weren''t totally paralyzing and he could think about anything else. Namely, the notification that had been blinking incessantly just on the edge of his vision ever since he woke up.


    [Name: Tapper]


    [Ancestry: Golem (Metal)]


    [Background: Muckraker (Novice)]


    [Class: None (_/_)]


    [Level: 1]


    [XP: o/25]


    [HP: 4/4]


    [Dodge: 12]


    [Armor: 1]


    [Strength: 4]


    [Dexterity: 2]


    [Constitution: 5]


    [Logic: 2]


    [Awareness: 5]


    [Willpower: 3]


    There were other notifications asking for his attention, but this time they didn''t dominate his entire view and allowed him to study this¡­ character sheet. He didn''t know why, but he knew that''s what this specific readout was called. Not one letter of it made sense to Tapper, but on some deep down level he knew that it was meant to describe every facet of his being. Except, right from the top it was wrong. How could his ancestry, his progenitors, be metal golems? He was a robot, built by robots! As if in answer, the line in his character sheet wobbled and artifacted until it was replaced with a new line.


    [Ancestry: Robot]


    Satisfaction. That was better, much more accurate ¡ª but wait, all the changes on the character sheet were accompanied with his newfound capacity for thought. If he forced the ancestry to change back to a mundane robot, would he start to lose that? A new emotion started to bubble up, panic not from pain but from the thought of going too far and inadvertently taking away his new gift already. Did he make a mistake? Can''t he have the best of both? Once again the text became a line of gibberish, this time staying as artifacts for much longer before it stabilized.


    [Ancestry: Golem (Robot)]


    Relief. The rising tide of panic instantly gave way to a wave of relief. It may have been less accurate, but at least it was less likely to revert Tapper to the mindless automaton he once was. Now for the next line, why did it say he was a muckraker? The word didn''t exist within his dictionary but "muck" did and it wasn''t a positive connotation, so that needed to change as well. But instead of reforming to his mental command, the pending messages flashed with increasing intensity until Tapper directed his attention to bringing them to the forefront.


    [Welcome to level 1!]


    [Congratulations adventurer, you have survived the gauntlet of life as a no-name gong farmer and overcome insurmountable odds! Before you take your first steps from a mere peasant into herodom, please choose one of the following bonus customization options:]


    [Option 1: Change your background]


    [Option 2: Add +2 to your attributes, either +2 to one or +1 to two attributes]


    [Option 3: Choose an extra general feat or ancestry feat, but your first class feat is replaced with a perk]


    Well, at least that was an easy choice. Tapper''s mind focused on the first option, revealing a list of hundreds of professions that he promptly ignored because ''Bartender'' was just a quick scroll away. He waited until the character sheet changed to the correct background and then closed it with a happy sigh. Hopefully now he can find Ricky and ask him ¡ª


    [ERROR!]


    [No life path present, primary half of class must be chosen manually]


    Or not. Another pop up automatically followed, a list of nearly twenty options that made even less sense than the character sheet. The robot had no context for any of them, couldn''t dismiss or minimize the pop up, and was once again too blinded by the information to do anything else.


    Frustration. If Tapper had a jaw, he''d be grinding his teeth right now. The robot was stuck between now being wise enough to know that randomly picking a class was probably a bad idea, while not yet smart enough to know what any of these classes meant. He tried to read the first one but gave up when it started talking about battlefield tactics, a subject he knew less than nothing about. How could anyone be expected to make a choice like this? Another bubble of panic started to form until it was popped with a spark of cold logic: He was still a computer, this was still a program, and nothing said that Tapper couldn''t make his own judgment on what was best from simple keyword matching.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    So while his vision was still focused on the list of classes, Tapper opened up a word search program and started putting in anything related to being a bartender. ''Alcohol'' gave nothing, ''Drink'' gave nothing, ''Bar'' gave several results but only as part of larger words unrelated to bartending, but ''Brew'' gave exactly one result. The robot still did not have the context to understand what brewing potions meant, but it was the best option he had found so it will have to do.


    If the first option sent an external meteorite of emotions crashing through his motherboard, then this one was like an internal core meltdown in slow motion. Warmth spread from the inside out, starting from his CPU and spreading throughout his chassis with a strange tingling sensation, but it didn''t stop there. The sensation continued to radiate and perception followed it, slowly bathing everything around the robot in colors that he felt rather than saw. Every glowing aura was related yet slightly unique and everything ¡ª absolutely everything ¡ª was connected with ethereal strings that Tapper felt sure he could reach out and tug if only he could move his limbs...


    Like a rubber band the sensation snapped back to just the physical confines of the metallic body. The glowing auras and ethereal strings vanished, revealing that every computer screen and electric device in the container was alight with life for a brief moment until they too died out and everything was once again still. But in his core Tapper knew he had not imagined the event and the tingling sensation, though faded to just a background noise, still permeated through every joint and actuator he had. The beauty of the moment was forever imprinted on him, and he wondered if these pop ups would give any clue what it meant.


    "Tapper! There you are!" The sudden voice sliced through the dense silence of Tapper''s thoughts and shocked the robot enough to send him crashing to the ground. Phanya appeared in his vision to loom over him, hands on her hips and an annoyed furrow on her brow. "Have you really been here the whole time? It''s been days! Quit messing around, let''s get you back to the warehouse."


    The robot scrambled to his treads and followed Phanya back into the open. Had he really spent days in that box? "I''m very sorry, Miss Phanya. I got stuck because of ¡ª" Revulsion! A wave of nausea carried by the fresh air washed over Tapper and nearly sent him to the ground again, his olfactory sensors were going haywire and overwhelming the robot with the scents of rot and decay. This wasn''t new, especially in the junk dunes, but it had always been a mere data point for the robot. Why was this sense now forcing itself to the front of his attention?


    Phanya hadn''t noticed Tapper stop, and once the robot was able to mute his olfactory sensors he sped to catch up. "Don''t worry about it. Just didn''t want to lose you to scrappers so soon after we found you. Alright, and Ricky was worried about your safety¡­ alright alright, we all were." She looked back at Tapper''s concerned eyebrows and corrected, "We all just got real used to having you help out around town, y''know?"


    Warmth. And also caution at pushing further? These new emotions were confusing. "Thank you Miss Phanya, I quite enjoy my station at Fableton. However, there seems to have been some developments with my programming that I will need some assistance with."


    "That sucks, but I don''t know skrat about computers so it''ll have to wait until Ricky can take a look at you. Just don''t break down before we get to town, okay? I don''t want to have to drag you home."


    Once they did get back to the warehouse Ricky gave an audible whoop and actually hugged the lost robot. "Tapper, thank goodness you''re alright! I was so worried."


    Guilt, even though Tapper knew he couldn''t reach the town when he wanted to. "My apologies, Mister Ricky. I was stuck in your clubhouse and could not leave for some time."


    The human nodded in understanding. "Ah, the door shut on you. It can be tricky, but I''ll show you how to trigger the failsafe that opens and shuts the door so that it doesn''t happen again."


    "Actually, there seems to be a problem with my ¡ª"


    "Hey wait, don''t leave yet!"


    Phanya groaned, her hand already on the door out of the warehouse. She had gone into another room to change clothes ¡ª heavy boots, loose pants, a snug tank top, and her hands wrapped in cloth bandages ¡ª and was in such a hurry that she hadn''t stopped to say goodbye on her way out. "Seriously Ry, I don''t have time. No one is watching the outskirts and people have been getting antsy lately."


    "Yeah I know, that''s why I made you this." Ricky scrambled over to a box set against the wall and threw open the lid, straining to pull out a large sheet of metal that had been hammered into overlapping curves and polished to a glaring shine. It was a metal breastplate, followed by pauldrons and a metal skirt that Ricky hooked together to form one unit of coverage from the shoulders to the mid-thigh. Gauntlets and a helmet followed, which Ricky laid out on the ground and presented as a gift of heavy armor while absolutely beaming with pride. "I know you''ve been running out there to stop the infighting pretty much all the time, so this should help protect you!"


    Phanya''s mouth smiled to match, but her eyes were wide with either surprise or fear. It looked like it was made from an old boiler. "Damn Ricky, this must''ve taken you forever to make! Uh, how do I put it on?" Ricky helped with the series of belt straps that kept the armor together, several of which Phanya would have trouble reaching even if she knew the process. All along the way he kept explaining his creation process, strong points, weak points, and excessively apologizing for the really weak points.


    "...And no matter what I did I couldn''t make finger joints fine enough for any flexibility. So your fingers are exposed, but I made the knuckles and backhand plates so thick that your hands should be safe whenever they''re in a fist. And there we go!"


    Phanya stood proud, after shifting the armor so it wouldn''t pinch or the helmet wouldn''t cover her eyes. "Feels like I can stop a railgun round now. Thanks Ry, but I seriously need to get going." She ensured no more distractions could happen by striding out of the room without another word, leaving a sudden silence in her creaking wake.


    Ricky didn''t say anything, just stood and stared at the door for a moment. All the bouncing energy had been replaced with a quiet melancholy as he said, "She does this almost every day, you know." He hadn''t turned from the door and Tapper wasn''t sure whether Ricky was talking to himself or to the robot. "She never thinks she can work a proper job, all she thinks she''s good for is stopping fights so other people don''t have to."


    With his proprietor showing signs of distress, Tapper''s questions regarding his own programming were pushed to an insignificant priority level. "Mister Ricky, why does Miss Phanya need armor?"


    The far-off look was shaken from Ricky''s eyes as he realized he wasn''t alone. "That''s right, you haven''t been to the outskirts of town. Most of the people live real close to here, but Fableton actually spreads out for a bit and things get rough out there. There''s no electricity, and some of the folk tend to start fights for some odd reason. Cyracorp enforcers won''t do anything about it, so Phanya does everything she can to run supplies to everyone and keep riots from breaking out. And yeah, everyone''s real nice and thankful about it but no one really helps her, they''re all too busy working or whatever. That''s why I''m always trying to go out salvaging in the dunes, I don''t even like it but it''s the only way I can keep Phanya out of danger for a bit. I''m just so worried about her."


    "Why does Miss Phanya put herself in harm''s way at all?"


    Ricky shrugged and simply answered, "Well, somebody''s gotta protect the people."


    The situation did not make much sense to Tapper, but his social programming was specialized for mollifying customers and the response flowed naturally from the tinny voice box. "It''s understandable that you worry, and I''m sorry that Miss Phanya doesn''t recognize what she has to contribute to Fableton. But if this is how she frequently spends her time then she knows what she is doing, and you do not need to worry whether she can handle herself. She seems more capable than just about anyone here, and if you trust her then you can trust that she won''t get in over her head."


    Ricky gave a small, sad grin and wiped away the hint of moisture that was forming at the corner of his eye. "Thanks Tapper, you''re a good listener."


    The robot''s jammed lower jaw couldn''t smile back, so his eyebrows gave a happy wiggle instead. "Shed a tear to see more clear, just one of my primary functions."


    "Uh listen, I told Ms. Uxral I was going to help teach science class, you good here? There''s some garbage on the main floor that needs vacuuming."


    There was enough on the young human''s shoulders. "Yes Mister Ricky, I am good." Once Ricky left Tapper was alone, and he took a moment before getting back to his chores until he figured out how to not have this interface dominate his entire view. He had a lot of reading to do, and unfortunately he could not simply download the information like a data packet.


    There were several pop ups that had been flashing in his peripheral vision ever since Phanya had found him, but Tapper avoided bringing them up in case he got stuck in another forced choice. Instead with a deep focus of his newfound will Tapper was able to eventually call forth his character sheet, and further concentration let him slowly nudge it until the interface was just taking up the right side of his vision. Progress!


    Without the interface effectively blinding him Tapper felt confident to split his processing power between doing chores and reading. Now, could he actually figure out what everything meant? Starting from the top, Tapper focused on the Ancestry line and begged for some context. Whatever this program was, it did clearly have some capacity to understand intent so hopefully if he just asked real hard for an explanation on a category¡­

 1.4 Thinking is Fundamental

    [Ancestry


    No matter what mix of peoples brought you into this world, there will always be one or two species that present themselves the strongest and those will be the base of both your physical characteristics and your available ancestry feats. And these qualities can skip generations, so don''t be surprised if you don''t look like your parents! You always start with one random ancestry feat.]


    Tapper was very tempted to ask about these feats that the system kept mentioning, but he didn''t want to get lost in the information just yet and instead focused on the next part of his character sheet.


    [Ancestry: Golem


    You were not born naturally but instead created by an intentional hand, leaving you with some distinct advantages and disadvantages. Your very lifeforce is mana so you no longer need to eat, breathe, or sleep, although you do need to go into standby mode for at least 4 hours to recharge your HP, MP, and daily abilities. Attribute damage does not heal naturally and must be repaired, but that also means you are not limited to healing 1 point of attribute damage per day. Same goes for wound counters. Being made of metal means that you are granted +1 natural armor and are not restricted from using magic. You cannot wear traditional armor, but you can upgrade your body with higher quality materials for more natural armor, and you are weak to spells which act on metal such as Electric and Magnet.]


    [Ancestry: Golem (Robot)


    ERROR 404 ANCESTRY NOT FOUND


    Acquire missing ancestral knowledge from the character? This takes time and will passively run in the background. Y/N]


    It seemed like a logical choice that wouldn''t result in Tapper blacking out again, so he chose Y and moved on to the next line.


    [Background


    Everyone was something before becoming an adventurer, and even the lowliest of peasants gain knowledge that influences the rest of their life. Your background represents an entire suite of knowledge and skills that will be called upon to solve problems, and you''re encouraged to be as creative as possible when using it. Even a simple farmer would have basic knowledge on carpentry and treating injuries, and they would be adept at animal husbandry and reading the weather!]


    [Background: Bartender


    Bartenders know how to mix every cocktail under the sun and several under the moon, resulting in knowledge of food pairings and a minor capacity to detect poisons. They also excel at social skills, especially reading emotions and extracting information without giving themselves away. Consider using the hand-eye coordination gained from shaking drinks to add some panache to skills involving subtle hand dexterity!]


    [Background: Bartender (Novice 0/10)


    Your current background skill level is Novice, and will advance after 10 discoveries. Discoveries come from experimentation, by learning under an advanced teacher (1 week of study = 1 discovery), or from studying knowledge textbooks (varies, generally 1 textbook = 1 discovery).]


    Mild annoyance. Tapper was programmed with every cocktail variety in the Bowson Incorporated? Gentleman''s Catalog, so it didn''t seem as if he should be counted as a mere novice. Maybe he felt some doubt because the system wouldn''t budge, so with a resolution to become a master bartender he moved onto the next category. As soon as he glanced at the Class line a pop up started to slide into view, and Tapper either wasn''t quick enough or willful enough to prevent it from replacing his character sheet.


    [You have selected the primary class portion: Witchcraft


    Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble! Wyrdlings, cunning folk, and bush doctors are among the more mysterious magicians due to their reclusive nature. They have a reputation for cursing their enemies and enchanting their victims, but witches are no more inherently good or evil than any other magician. Unlike other magicians, witches spend just as much time studying people and nature as they do studying mana, and as a result their magic is used to psych out opponents and brew potions along with casting spells.]


    [Primary class features:


    Witches use Awareness as their spellcasting attribute and at level 1 have a spellcasting die of 1d4. They gain 1 HP every (3) levels, an extra wound box every (4) levels, and (2) MP every level. Whenever one is available, witches can use an open feat to instead learn either two random spell components OR choose one of their own. Mana can restore by meditating while taking a breather, by a total of (1d4+1d8) per attempt. First level gift is (3) spell components, randomly chosen based on the witch''s mental and physical characteristics.]


    As soon as Tapper dismissed the message the next one popped up in its place. At this point the robot just wanted to quickly read through them and go back to the character sheet, but his attention was ripped away by a new sensation. He was bent under a table to pick up a plastic bag and as soon as he made contact the robot''s mind was flooded with a dance of tiny data points, feathery light yet sharp, as the plastic bent under his touch. Units of Tapper''s model were all built with basic tactile feedback sensors so they could handle delicate glassware, but this was the first time his computer brain analyzed every single data point as they came in and combined them into an experience that was¡­ is this beauty?


    And the sound! As Tapper gently squeezed the bag a cascade of soft crinkles and pops formed the white noise in happy harmony with the physical sensation. Every fold he gave the bag formed a peak that Tapper ran a gentle finger over, tracing every ridge and drinking in the sensations as he marveled at the sheer pleasures such a simple act could give. Why did sapients take all of this for granted?


    "Bot!" The sudden sharp yelp brought Tapper back to reality and he scrambled to hide the bag behind his back. Embarrassment, shame. Why does this feel like he had been discovered during a moment of intimacy? Aazran, in a rare moment outside of his little nest, stood glaring at Tapper with his one hand on his hip. The tablet was still propped up against the wall, and with no one to watch it the stream had automatically paused on an ad for NuVaYu, the genetic refresher sequence with affordable corporeal mortgage options! "You glitching or something? You''ve been playing with that bag for an hour."


    "N-no sir! Just examining it for, um, foreign contaminants."


    The elder raptor just cocked an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Well, when you''re done ''examining'' the garbage, give my drink a refill." Tapper silently finished cleaning, zipped behind the bar to mix an especially strong Market Mule for Aazran, and was out the door before the customer finished in the bathroom.


    The mealworm tent offered an excellent opportunity for privacy and new experiences. Unfortunately, separating the mealworms from the adult bugs by hand proved to be a thoroughly gross experience and Tapper gained some insight on why everyone else avoided this task. The onslaught of data threatened to overwhelm his CPU and he had to numb his sense of touch to keep from flinching every time Tapper reached into the wriggling flesh mound, even if it felt like a betrayal to the beauty he had just been experiencing prior. Hopefully not every organism Tapper encounters will feel so¡­ fleshy. Synthetic was definitely the way to go, and the plastic bag was quickly becoming a calming presence whenever the undulating pile of bugs started to become too much to handle.


    Tapper took a long break to play with the bag when the mealworms were finally separated and boxed up for the kitchen. Crinkling it, twisting it, the white noise was thoroughly comforting and when the random manipulation resulted in the bag wrapping around his wrist like a bracelet it just felt right. Only in the quiet that followed of Tapper examining his new accessory did he realize that he had forgotten all about the pop up.


    [Please choose your level 1 feat]


    The prompt had never left his vision, still present and patient while Tapper worked through his overstimulation. He could sense a direction the prompt wanted to take him, but he instead asked it to define "Feat" in this context and a new message appeared beneath it.


    [FeatsThe tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The bread and butter of your character build comes from the feats that will give you new abilities, resources, and survival options. Available feats are based on your class, ancestry, level, attributes, and recent adventuring achievements.]


    Another list of options presented themselves to Tapper, and despite making his best effort to actually read them the robot had little more luck than last time. Reading any one feat gave him the basic idea of what it might do, but any attempt to compute the larger implications caused all meaning to spill out of his RAM like fine sand through his fingers, and what little information he could hold onto blew away once he started reading the next feat. These circuits were just not equipped to process this sort of data, but instead of feeling defeated Tapper simply fell back on the tried and true strategy of running a word search to find the most appropriate choice.


    [Feat: Potion Brewing


    The focus of your witchy training was finding ingredients and coaxing out their essence for your potions, and as a result you can achieve more with crude materials than alchemists would ever dream of attempting. After all, despite what academics might say any bush witch knows that even the most common weeds and berries can make effective healing salves and poisonous tinctures alike! Your spellcasting die now applies to all attempts of both gathering materials for brewing and the actual process itself. Furthermore, you can more easily pour your own mana into any brewing attempts to make up for any inconsistencies in the ingredients or tools, resulting in a 1-to-1 bonus on your brewing check for every point of mana spent.]


    The description made perfect sense to Tapper, so long as he ignored the majority of it that didn''t make any sense, and he selected to confirm the feat without a second thought. Immediately his body felt a surge of that tingling sensation, not nearly as strong as the first time and fully contained within his body. But it still felt as if a new portion of his processor was opening up to the world and as quickly as they had come the tingles were gone, leaving behind a vague sensation that Tapper had downloaded a new program yet couldn''t directly access it. Hopefully Ricky could explain it when he had some free time.


    A muffled crash from outside, quiet enough that Tapper likely would not have noticed if he hadn''t numbed the rest of his senses, derailed his train of thought and the robot threw open the tent to investigate. Nothing was amiss out in the open, but entering the warehouse showed a conflict in progress as a customer tried to crawl behind Tapper''s food and drink counter and Aazran struggled to stop him.


    The customer that Tapper didn''t recognize was a thoroughly disheveled human male with greasy hair and a wiry frame, not even trying to be subtle as he shouted, "Get off me, you old lizard! I know there''s some coin behind here somewhere!" He was already laying on the counter, trying to pull himself over and kick Aazran off his backside at the same time.


    Despite the difference in age Aazran had a better foothold and was slowly pulling the other one back over the counter. "Ret, this ain''t like you! You''ve been running too long, you need to stop!"


    Instead of answering, Ret got in a lucky wriggle that gave him the distance to start searching behind the counter. He was throwing aside bottles and utensils without care until he barked a triumphant laugh and hauled a heavy box onto the counter. It was a lockbox, and although Tapper had never seen it used he had been informed that it was full of credit chits and not to be opened without authorization. That means the confrontation had escalated to stealing profits, triggering a high priority directive in Tapper''s programming that spurred the bartender into action.


    Tapper zipped over and grabbed the nearest obstruction, hauling it overhand to get it out of the way. This happened to be Aazran, who may have yelped something before he was unceremoniously thrown backwards but the loud crash as he landed among the chairs drowned out anything he had said.


    [Vigilant Watcher lvl 1 defeated! + 1 XP]


    Ret was preoccupied with trying to pry over the lockbox and didn''t even realize he was caught until Tapper grabbed him by both wrists. "Ow! Stupid dumbass bot, let go of me!"


    "Bar brawls and attempted thievery are both against the code of conduct of the Fableton market. Please cease your actions and leave this establishment." Ret just struggled more, thrashing his body and kicking at Tapper but the robot''s vice grip didn''t waver. Tapper wasn''t sure of what else he could do, so he repeated his instructions and increased his gripping force when the wiry organic started to slip through his grasp.


    Ret suddenly stopped struggling when his wrist started to crack, dropping to his knees in a mix of pain and desperate anguish. "Please, please don''t do this to me. I''m working a triple tonight and I need more longhaul and if I crash now I''ll never make it I need this money."


    He was quickly devolving into a gibbering mess, but Tapper was able to understand the gist of what he was saying. "If you are low on funds then you can attain proper employment. A healthy work ethic is the cornerstone of society upon which we all ¡ª"


    "Tapper!" The sudden shout was Miss Uxral, standing in between the conflict and a gaggle of wide eyes as the students crowded behind her. "You let go of him this instant!" The robot obeyed without hesitation, and Ret cradled his injured arm with a sad whimper. The elder hybrid then walked over to the lockbox and opened it with her personal key, shaking out a pitifully small pile of thick metal coins. She pulled one out, touched it to a spot on her wrist, checked the tiny readout screen on one face of the coin, and tucked it into Ret''s pocket. "Here you go dear, go home and rest up."


    "But my wrist¡­ I can''t work at all now¡­" Whimpering pain screwed up into a scowl of rage and the human sneered, "The Hand should crush this whole goddamn town!" He didn''t make eye contact with anyone as he ran out of the warehouse, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.


    [Desperate Vagrant lvl 1 defeated! +1 XP]


    After a beat a pained groan from the floor spurred Miss Uxral into action, turning to everyone else and instructing, "Alright kids, you all can go home today. Ricky, honey, help Aazran up and get him into the clinic, I''ll have Wiessa come take a look at him. And you," she pointed a stern finger at Tapper, "clean this mess up. I''ll deal with you in a minute."


    Tapper again obeyed without comment, silenced by a phantom sense of nausea clawing at his mind. The way Miss Uxral pointed at him had zapped the robot with a sense of guilt, but he couldn''t understand why. Someone was trying to steal from the establishment, and Tapper had stopped him. Maybe he was supposed to be more forceful with so-called desperate vagrants?


    Miss Uxral exited the clinic to find Tapper standing stock still by the counter, the entire cafeteria having been thoroughly cleaned per her instructions. She strode over to the robot with her arms crossed, and under her withering gaze Tapper reflexively collapsed the telescoping pole of his lower torso until he was looking up at her. Uxral took a moment formulating her words before she started, "Aazran will be fine, but his snout is fractured. Possibly concussed, too. He''ll be taking his meals through a straw for a while so you''ll be in charge of feeding him, and probably Rethar as well since it sounds like you might have broken his wrist." Another pause. "Did you really pick up and throw Aazran into the chairs? We''re lucky a fractured snout is all he got."


    "I prevented the interloper from stealing the funds of his establishment."


    "And you hurt Aazran in the process. You didn''t stop first to make sure he was okay? A facial injury like that can make it difficult for a reptilian to breathe, especially at his age. If he had landed wrong he could''ve suffocated right there on the floor."


    "Because Rethar was breaking the rules and ¡ª"


    "Nuh-uh." Miss Uxral stuck a finger out that stopped Tapper right in his tracks before she continued, "Don''t even bother finishing that thought. I know that your model is used to high-end bars with fancy clientele and all that, but we aren''t doing that here. Look at me, young man." Uxral was in full teacher mode and Tapper couldn''t help himself from reacting just like a scolded child. "We help our people before we stop the bad guys, you understand me? And we definitely don''t hurt our own people in order to stop a simple crime. Now I don''t want to call Ricky in here to dig around in your programming, but I will if I have to. So the next time our customers or an innocent bystander gets hurt, you make sure you help them before you try to stop someone from stealing. And I know, in a fight sometimes you help your customers by stopping the bad guys, but this wasn''t that. In this situation, you shouldn''t have thrown Aazran and you should have made sure he wasn''t in real danger before you tackled Rethar. And if he had gotten away, so what? It''s only money, that comes second to people. Do you understand me?"


    Tapper squirmed a bit. Not only from Miss Uxral''s unwavering gaze, but because her commands went against everything his core programming knew about running a business. "I understand, but¡­ but would that not just encourage criminals and freeloaders to rob from you?"


    Miss Uxral''s visage broke a bit when she scoffed in response. "Freeloaders? What makes you think Rethar was a freeloader? He works plenty, it just isn''t ever enough." Somehow Miss Uxral could read the confusion in Tapper''s frozen face as she took a deep breath before continuing, "Maybe some context would help. Why do you think Rethar wasn''t working already?"


    "Because if he needed money, then Rethar merely should have worked more hours? Or been more diligent with budgeting his funds?"


    The hybrid teacher drummed her fingers on the countertop in thought before she reached behind it and pulled out an unopened plastic bottle of water, the sort that Tapper had been instructed to ration unless told otherwise. "See this plain bottle of water? It costs 0.1 Cyracoin at the Cyracorp commissary, it''s enough to last one person for one day and that''s only if they aren''t working out in the sun. Which everyone does. The recycling center pays a little bit less than .05 coin per hour, and they are very good at tracking when you aren''t doing work activities like walking from one station to another.


    "Now Rethar, he doesn''t work at the recycling facility, he works in the trash mines because they work on commission and it''s possible to make more than what Cyracorp offers. But it is also very easy to fall behind, and you''ll get replaced as soon as you can''t afford the bus fare. So Rethar takes longhaul, a drug that lets you put off sleep and work extra hours. Nasty stuff and I keep it as far away from here as possible, but I won''t condemn him for taking it. Poor guy still thinks that receiving handouts is shameful, so in his desperation to work more he wound up like this¡­ I feel like I''m losing you."


    Tapper''s head had slowly tilted until he was nearly looking at Uxral sideways. "That¡­ sounds untenable."


    "Yes, exactly! You''re getting it!" Tapper was not getting it at all, but Miss Uxral still broke into a grin that frightened the robot slightly. "It doesn''t work, that''s why I don''t make anyone here pay for food or necessities. It''s rough because there''s never enough to go around, but over time we''ve made a delicate balance where no one is left totally destitute and that is better than the alternative." She then took a calming breath and continued, "Look, I understand that I just fed you a lot of confusing information. The point is this: Your first focus should always be finding ways to help people. Don''t hurt anyone unless it''s the only way to prevent them from hurting your customers and innocents, okay? You find ways to help."


    Tapper stood up slightly and beeped a confirmation. "I will try my best, Miss Uxral."


    "Good boy, that''s all anyone can ever ask of you."

 1.5 Eye of Newt

    [New Quest: A Pound of Cure


    Find a way to help Fableton]


    Tapper was left to his devices for a long moment before he gave up trying to think of a way to help the injured customer. This amount of vague initiative was above the robot, so with a cloud of guilt still hanging Tapper resigned himself to finishing up his chores. After all, the boxes of mealworms were still waiting outside and no one had hunted any combo critters or bulk-purchased any ed-pro bars lately, so his customers needed their protein. Back in the tent, he bent down to the box of mealworms but froze as soon as they came into focus, distracted by a flood of new information he couldn''t process.


    The information was hazy and all over the place like a half-formed thought, but when Tapper gave the grubs a closer inspection they were suddenly highlighted with a wireframe vector the same sharp shade of green as the pop ups and the messy noise of thoughts coalesced into specific information. Dead Man''s Fingers: Take them raw and wriggling, squeeze them dry and toss the husk for a paste that gives a numbing effect. Taking too much internally can paralyze!


    This wasn''t a pop up message he had to read, this was something that Tapper just suddenly and intrinsically knew. But if it wasn''t a system message and he hadn''t downloaded any information by conventional means, where did it come from? Looking in the main bug breeding and feeding box gave a similar flurry of random information until Tapper focused and inspected just the adult beetles, highlighting them with the same green wireframe vector and dimming everything else in his vision until several different uses for the various body parts started scrolling through his mind. Darkling Crawlers: Gently dry the entire body and grind to powder for a mild healing reagent. However, most of it will pass right through.


    Excitement! This was exactly what Tapper needed, although this mysterious well of knowledge also informed him that just powdered darkling beetle wouldn''t be enough. He quickly picked out every single dead beetle in the bottom of the breeding box and tossed them into a nearby plastic bag, hauled the mealworms to the kitchen for cooking later, and then got to exploring. He inspected everything edible in the warehouse for possible potion ingredients, but in retrospect he should have started in the greenhouse. Most of the various stems and roots could be distilled down into different toxins, but with perseverance the robot eventually hit paydirt. Cat''s Tongue Nettle: Be careful with the needles as you dry the leaves and then brew for a viscous bitter tea. Use it as a base for potions and the other reagents will better stick to your bones, improving their lasting power!


    The bubbling sense of excitement gave Tapper''s hands a tremor as he considered how many leaves he would need. Wiessa wasn''t around to ask permission, so he carefully but quickly plucked off a fistful of leaves from different branches, shoved them into the plastic bag, and hurried back to the kitchen. No one gave the robot a second glance as he set out pots and cooking sheets, set the gas stove to preheat with his lighter thumb, and got to work dehydrating the beetles and nettle leaves. Set aside the dried leaves, find a mortar and pestle for the beetles, realize there isn''t one and resort to using his fists to pulverize the beetles in a bowl, and then finally prepare the water.


    Tapper did feel a pang of guilt when he pulled out an unopened plastic bottle of water from under the counter, but he had to make sure this worked. Bring the water to a simmer, seep the leaves until the water thickens into a sickly green, and then mix in the powdered beetles. The potion took on a light brown color matched by an awful smell, but there was still something missing. Tapper didn''t know how he knew, but the qualities of everything he had used were lacking and as a result they weren''t meshing together ¡ª this wasn''t a potion, it was just weed tea with powdered bugs mixed in. What was it the pop up had said about making up for inconsistencies?


    He was leaning over the simmering pot in deep contemplation when Tapper realized that the tingling sensation had gradually condensed and focused in the fingers nearest to the pot. What''s more, there was a heat Tapper could feel that had nothing to do with the lit stove because it was coming from his own motherboard and radiating outwards. The robot held one hand over the pot and willed the hidden knowledge of potion brewing to show him what it needed to do. The heat and tingles, now one and the same, withdrew until it formed a line from Tapper''s CPU to his outstretched hand and kept building and building until some undefined limit broke and something started to spill out. It wasn''t oil, there wasn''t any physical sign of anything happening besides a very mild visual distortion around his hand and the pot, but something was absolutely pouring out of his metal body like a faucet. Within seconds the simmering brew went from light brown to a bright red-brown strangely akin to the color of rich clay and two new pop ups came to the forefront.


    [New discovery found: Minor regeneration potion! +1 XP


    This basic potion will heal 1HP per round for 1d6 rounds (modified by brewer''s Int score and recipient''s Con score) when taken orally, or can be used as a salve to greatly speed the healing of a single non-critical injury. Not strong enough to regrow lost body parts.]


    [Successfully crafted: Minor regeneration potion! +1 XP]


    Those served as all the confirmation Tapper needed that he was finished, and another extension of will shut off the energy''s outpouring. The tingling sensation diffused to his entire body once again, but at a diminished level that drained his overall performance. Although Tapper couldn''t possibly feel tired, the robot somehow got a sense that he had just greatly exerted himself. A quick internal diagnosis didn''t reveal any issues, so on a hunch Tapper asked for his character sheet and noticed two changes.


    [XP: 4/25]


    [MP: 4/6]


    The increase in XP made sense, but the line for MP did not exist on his character sheet before now. Tapper sifted the potion back into the empty water bottle, set it aside, and then turned back to the character sheet to ask for clarification on what MP was.


    [Mana


    Every hero utilizes the mana contained within their soul to commit feats beyond their limits, be it a fighter internalizing their mana to strengthen their bodies or wizards reaching outward to manipulate the magical weave in the aether. As a rule of thumb, every spell you cast requires 1 MP to attempt plus any bonuses you apply, and if your mana falls to 0 then you lose the usage of that spell for the rest of the day. Even if the check was otherwise successful! MP resets to full after a rest, and many classes can partially regain their mana during a breather.]


    [Magic


    The mysterious ethereal force which connects all things, magic is what lit the first spark of life and powers the furnace of the soul. Magic permeates everything and everyone touches it, but only a very few people have either the natural ability or the studious dedication to actually grab hold and manipulate magic. Those that do can manage extraordinary feats surpassing the limits of their mere mortal shells, but beware the hubris! Every single attempt to control magic carries a small chance of it catastrophically backfiring, and long-time exposure to wild magic can have mutagenic effects. Even the most careful and patient old wizard will have a few missing fingers and some secrets to hide under their robe. To quote renowned sorcerer Agmitis the Acuminous, "Quit casting Spark to light candles before your eyes catch fire! Why do you think I still carry a flint?"]


    Tapper quietly read, reread, and pondered the strange message. These pop ups were not nearly as straightforward as the previous ones had been, and the simple bartender had not made any progress in making sense of who Agmitis was by the time the potion had cooled to an acceptable temperature. There was still a queue of pop ups waiting to be read, but thankfully they stayed a vague green pulse just out of view as Tapper took care of his more pressing task.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Aazran was still in the clinic, laid back on a reclining chair and gently snoring through the thick cloth wrapped around his reptilian snout. Wiessa was also there, standing next to the operating stage and wrapping up the rest of the medical cloths. Even though she was wearing the same dirt-dusted clothes from the greenhouse, the tall woman had at least cleaned her skin and now Tapper could see dashes of green biofluorescent skin shine in the light. They were faded compared to Miss Phanya''s markings, but Wiessa was definitely at least part numan. "Hm? I didn''t order a drink."


    "Pardon me, doctor, but I have procured this medicine for Mister Aazran. May I apply it to him?" the robot said, holding out the bottle. Wiessa glanced from the robot to the unconscious raptor and she just shrugged.


    "Don''t ask me, I''m no doctor. I just know how to set a wound," Wiessa responded. With a swish of her long coat that kicked up a small dust cloud, the numan turned heel and returned to her greenhouse without another word.


    Tapper understood the lack of refusal as tacit permission and got to work. Following the subconscious instructions of how to apply salves, he gently unwrapped the cloth around Aazran''s snout, saturated it with the potion, and reapplied the bandage to the fracture. He tried to massage the salve into the skin, but Aazran started to immediately stir and groan in pain so Tapper backed off. Hopefully this wouldn''t happen so often that he would have to learn about the physical fragility of each organic species, but the bartender felt properly accomplished for once. It wasn''t enough to satisfy the needs of his latest quest, but it was a start.


    Tapper got right to work brewing a second regeneration potion with the leftover ingredients, and in his haste he forgot to monitor his MP. During the process there was an internal pop of some sort that shot pain through his CPU; a humanoid would compare to a splitting headache, and when the brewing process finished an alert was waiting for Tapper:


    [Potion Brewing has fizzled!]


    Checking his character sheet also confirmed that his MP had fallen all the way to 0. If he could have spared the processing power to wonder why this second batch took so much more mana he might have realized it was because he had used over half the ingredients the first time and that meant using even more mana to make up for it, but Tapper lacked both the will and the capacity for such ponderings. Right now he yearned for nothing more than rest, even if the robot didn''t technically know what it would take for him to actually go to sleep.


    As misfortune would have it, Tapper''s brief pause to ponder what it meant to lose consciousness was interrupted when the first shipment of miners arrived home for dinner. The bar brawl had thrown off Tapper''s routine and he had been so distracted experimenting with potion brewing that he never started preparing for the evening rush. Between the delay and the headache it took every ounce of the robot''s bartending skills to keep up with demand, and by the time the last customer had received their food Tapper couldn''t muster the energy to even consider the cleanup process.


    Best he could hope for was to retract his leg spindle for stability, hunker under the counter, and activate a deep diagnosis program that involved a partial shutdown of his systems. Maybe if nothing else it would find that he was actually tired because his internal nuclear microgenerator was leaking, and the last thought Tapper had before he shut down was that if he was leaking then he probably should''ve moved outside of the marketplace.


    <hr>


    The first thought to cross Tapper''s mind when he regained consciousness was curiosity, since it felt like nothing had happened, yet he knew from his internal clock that almost exactly four hours had passed. That must be what it''s like to lose consciousness, then ¡ª absolutely nothing. It was now well into the dead of night and only a few insomniac customers milled about, trying to numb themselves with the drinks they had helped themselves to in Tapper''s absence. Hopefully that was fine after Miss Uxral''s speech on not stopping thieves, but the robot couldn''t wait to worry about that.


    An organic being would also likely chastise themselves for not realizing how concepts such as mana and sleep worked earlier, but Tapper only felt a faint hint of excitement. Even if it was more confusing than anything, it still felt good to learn new things about himself! Especially when the information was presented to Tapper without him having to dig and fumble around his limited understanding. Maybe there were other things this character sheet really wanted to show him? As if reading the desire, a new message popped up in his view:


    [Spell Components


    Everyone knows that the power of a magician lies in the spells they create from the components they collect. Every single component you find is the pure essence of a concept given form, etched into your mind with such finality that you can now summon, manipulate, and embody that concept in ways no other mortal can. But the true power comes from how those components get combined, creating new and wondrous spells that no one else can predict. What sort of power would the spell Flower Wheelbarrow have on the world? No one knew until Agmitis the Acuminous used that spell to carry an entire company of soldiers safely through the Fey Wilds!


    And remember, never reveal these components to other people. Otherwise they shall hunt you down and forcefully extract the secrets from your brain!]


    [Casting spells


    The most basic and safest way to cast a spell is to just use a single word, which will allow you to pick up and manipulate a handful of that concept without harming yourself. So, if you cast Fire you can reach into a lit scone and scoop out a handful of fire, allowing you to apply it elsewhere or even throw it as an attack. The second simplest way is to cast one word to bring it into existence from the aether, again only as a handful and this requires a bit more mana, but since you don''t need the subject to already exist you can cast Fire on a cold log to get that campfire going with ease. Likewise, casting Dance on a person will compel them to cut a rug!


    The real fun comes from combining words, because the end result is only limited by your imagination. Create Light can do just what it says on the tin, but it can also act as a distracting flashbang, a damaging laser, a highlight for easy tracking, anything the magician can bend to their will! This is when spells start to cost exponentially more mana, but it''s also when you are no longer limited to what you can hold in your hand. Spheres! Lasers! Cones! Multiple targets! The sky''s the limit when you start combining spell components.]


    Unlike the pop ups that Tapper intentionally brought up of his own will, these ones automatically dismissed themselves as soon as he finished reading them regardless of his desire to go over them a second or third time. This rapidfire information was too much for him to absorb and eroded any excitement he was feeling from the helpful system, so when a third pop up appeared all that remained was a sense of dread. This final message was about spell shaping and it was by far the worst, filling Tapper''s vision top to bottom with mathematical formulas regarding volume and surface area and exponential scaling and everything else a bartender had no use knowing.


    The math was so overwhelming that Tapper could swear the diagrams had detached from the pop up and floated about his head, and although the robot didn''t have the context to call them visual hallucinations it would not have made them any less terrifying if he did. Tapper had to completely shut off his visual receptors and fidget with his plastic bag before the white noise could drown out the terror, and when he felt safe enough to reactivate his vision the terrifying math had been replaced with a final, utterly barebones pop up.


    [Spells Known:


    Spray


    Suck


    Track]


    Compared to the deluge of information the system was subjecting to Tapper, this was equally baffling for its lack of context. Hopefully the program wasn''t responding to him being overwhelmed, and when he asked it for a slightly more thorough explanation no new words appeared in his vision. Instead Tapper could just barely feel a new sensation of a thousand eyes focusing very hard on different parts of his body: the unused spray nozzle on his back spindle, the often used vacuum strapped to his other spindle, and the caterpillar tracks he moved around on. Unfortunately, the thought of connecting the concepts to his physical body never crossed Tapper''s mind and the feeling was largely ignored until the metaphorical onlookers gave up trying to draw his attention.


    What instead gave the robot''s eyebrows a happy wiggle was the realization that these must be executable programs, because when he focused on the first one it opened up and engulfed nearly all of his processing power. Now, social robots like Tapper do not have read/write permissions for their own programs, so when he pushed his full focus into a spell and was accidentally exposed to the endless celestial depths that goes into shaping a concept for spellcraft, it didn''t phase him.


    The bartender didn''t realize he was looking at the crossing of ley lines and celestial bodies, he couldn''t read the instructions dictating how every language known and unknown would play on the same spell shape, and anything else that would''ve fried his circuits thankfully washed right over and past his perception. Instead, Tapper looked around the knowledge of infinities for a moment before backing out, perfectly content to believe that he just had a few new executables he could run.


    There may have been a sliver of the robot''s mind that knew this wasn''t how computers worked, but any doubts were put out of his mind for good when the first few customers started to shuffle into the warehouse. Tapper had spent the entire night reading messages and studying spells, so with the gray hints of pre-dawn light warming the windows the bartender happily got to work on his duties to serve the people. His duties were much more important than any new programs, after all.

 1.6 Finding Ways to Help

    Phanya was usually one of the last customers to eat breakfast in the mornings, but not out of any laziness. On the contrary, she spends most of the early hours making sure the food line keeps moving and that everyone makes it onto the transport for the mines. The latter was especially important because there was only one transport for each shift so anyone that missed it wouldn''t get paid that day, meaning the instant that the squealing old brakes signaled its arrival there was a mad dash for everyone to get a seat. Fights rarely broke out in the rush for seating on the benches so most mornings saw her helping everyone else climb up on top of the transport and, for the real stragglers, helping them get situated for a long journey desperately clinging to the sides of the boxy vehicle.


    It never made sense to Phanya why the mining company couldn''t send multiple transports, but by the time she was done she was too exhausted to think much on the issue. Thankfully, the robot was quick on the uptake and learned on its own to start setting aside a healthy portion of breakfast, ensuring Phanya never had to grumble through the agonizing minutes it took for it to brew her another batch. It was actually pretty good about picking up on unspoken rules regarding how to treat people, like not to talk to Phanya when she was devouring a meal with enough intensity to leave a splash zone.


    After giving assistance to over two dozen neighbors today was one such day, so several moments after breakfast Phanya didn''t hang around to socialize and ducked straight out of the warehouse. A block away she stopped her brisk walk to duck behind a building, got to work, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized the robot had followed her all the way out of the warehouse.


    "Good morning, Miss Phanya. Could you please escort me to the home of Mister Rethar? And why are you removing your armor?"


    Phanya had barely avoided falling over from the shock, so she was left frozen in an awkward position midway out of Ry''s scrap armor. She regained her composure, dropped the last of the gear, and straightened up ¡ª she might be terrible with machines, but she''s seen it follow Ms. Uxral whenever she was stern. "Tapper, you are to forget you ever saw me and go back to the warehouse," she said, deepening her voice a bit to add some more authority.


    The robot''s eyebrows turned up then down in sadness and confusion. "Unfortunately I do not have that level of access to my memory files. And why would I want to forget you, Miss Phanya?"


    Phanya grimaced slightly, why did she just feel like she kicked a pet? "No, not like that, just¡­ nevermind. Look, can you keep a secret from Ricky?"


    "As a bartender, I am duty bound to respect any secrets that do not endanger my proprietors. Or the interests of Bowson Incorporated?."


    The last statement came out so quickly that Phanya barely understood it, but the important part was clear. "Yeah yeah, this falls under that. Just promise you won''t tell Ry that you caught me taking off the armor."


    "Of course, Miss Phanya." A beat of awkward silence as neither person moved. "So why are you removing your armor?"


    Phanya sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she resumed shedding. "Because it doesn''t help me. Ry''s got a great idea, but the armor is way too heavy for me to wear all day. Look at me, I have a runner''s build! And even if I could wear that, it still slows me down too much in an actual fight. Better off just dodging, I know how to duck and weave." The pile of armor clattered to the ground and Phanya stretched to her fullest impressive height. "So I ditch the gear, hide it, and put it back on when I''m done. Except for the gloves, they''re actually perfect for punching." She wiggled her fingerless metal gauntlets and shot a few quick jabs into the air. Point made, she turned back to the robot as if that should''ve dismissed him. "Why are you out here, again?"


    "Could you please escort me to the home of Mister Rethar? I have procured some medication for his injuries."


    "You mean the injuries you gave him? Yeah sure, we''ll head that way first if you can keep up." Phanya turned heel and strode into Fableton at what would have been a light jog for anyone else, and when Tapper managed to catch up she continued, "Gotta say, I didn''t expect you to have all that fight in your system. And I''m real surprised Ms. Uxral still vouched for you after that little stunt."


    "It was imperative that I stop a theft in progress," Tapper tried to explain, but he couldn''t prevent the shame from leaking into his voice. "But Miss Uxral has explained how I shall do a better job next time."


    Phanya snorted a laugh. "Yeah, next time you can just leave it to the professionals."


    "And how did that title fall to you, Miss Phanya?"


    The question received a noncommittal shrug from the tall woman. "I''m good at it, and I''m not good at other stuff. Plus I''m faster than nearly anyone else in town, so I''m usually the first to show up to any problems anyways. Just¡­ finding ways to help, while I can."


    Phanya''s extroverted attitude had given way to something more resigned, likely because there weren''t any other organics around for her to put on an act for, so Tapper decided to push the subject slightly. "While you can? Are you planning on traveling soon?"Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    A second laugh from Phanya, but this one was bitter and tasted of venom. "Travel? I''m never leaving this place. None of us are, except maybe Ricky if we''re really lucky. But what I''m doing now doesn''t pay, and at some point I''ll have to get a proper job at either the recycling center or the mines. Putting that off for as long as I can, but that''s all there is for me."


    Tapper had not been prepared for how quickly the mood would darken and was left floundering for a way to pivot the conversation. "But why is Mister Ricky the exception, then? Why is he leaving?"


    "Because he''s the only one to show any promise, of course!" Phanya answered, her voice growing noticeably louder. "Ms. Uxral tries with all of us, sure, but he''s the only one born with the right brains for it. So they''re all pooling their money together to send him to an actual school in the city so he can become an actual engineer, not just fiddling with garbage. He''ll actually get proper tools to make things and earn some real coin and¡­ he''ll get to have a life. I''m going to miss that little twerp, but I wouldn''t dream of keeping him stuck here in Skratsville with the rest of us."


    The two walked in silence after that. Tapper''s list of questions had grown exponentially but Miss Phanya would only ever answer but so many on the best of days, and her patience had clearly run out. So instead the robot studied their surroundings. He had never been this far out into Fableton from the warehouse, and only with this new perspective did he begin to appreciate the subtle order the town had towards its center. At least the shacks immediately surrounding the warehouse had been built in a general grid structure with enough room between them to move comfortably and trash was constantly being moved to the anomalous incinerator, but out here all forethought had evaporated. Houses crowded close enough for some to lean against each other for support and garbage piled up against the walls, causing every narrow path to be in a permanent state of shade.


    Phanya never wavered in her walking, but Tapper did notice her eyes lingering just a bit on every alleyway they passed by. Occasionally they would stop at a person sleeping under a shaded overhang and Phanya would attempt to rouse them awake by name, making small talk if she could and checking that they were still breathing if not. Either way she gave everyone a small bottle of water from her satchel and kept it moving, explaining only once that they were all crashing from longhaul use and would be sleeping like this for a while. Tapper knew not to prod for deeper questions this time, the anger Phanya was feeling was quiet but kept escaping through mutterings about pushers and "the system".


    A handful of stops later and Fableton''s layout underwent another change, moving from cramped shacks to the true outskirts of town. Here there was much more space between homes, most of which were just the hollowed out shells of vehicles instead of anything built with intent. There were also several mini dump sites for garbage to collect, which Phanya pointed out that Tapper will eventually have to start helping cart everything to the incinerator, but overall there was enough open pavement now for the wall surrounding Fableton to be seen between the structures.


    Phanya made a beeline for what might have once been a bus, although it was difficult to tell with the wheels removed and half the vehicle buried under a pile of salvage, and she banged on the door with little fanfare. "Ret, you awake? We''re just checking in. And we brought medicine!" But no answer came, and after knocking a few more times Phanya pried the door open and let herself in. "I''ll check if he''s passed out from longhaul. Tapper, go around back and see if he''s lost in his pile of loot. I swear that hoarder wouldn''t have to work so much if he just sold some of his skrat¡­"


    Tapper obliged, leaving Phanya to her mutterings as he wheeled around to the back of the transport. Here he was met with a massive pile of Rethar''s apparent collection, although the robot couldn''t discern what purpose any of it was used for. Toilets, computers, tires, and everything in between were piled on top of each other into a haphazard pile that was deceptively sound when Tapper tried to shift anything. The only object that didn''t seem wedged into place was a large tire leaning up against the side. It still took a few attempts to roll out of the way, revealing a domed interior inside of the refuse pile just large enough for a person to crawl inside.


    Indeed, an organic of some sort had done just that. It was hunched over and glossy and definitely not Rethar, a pile of small spheres the size of golf balls and gray-yellow color of hard boiled egg yolks shifted and wiggled ever so slightly within a sack of pale blue jelly-like substance. It was unlike anything Tapper had ever seen and curiosity begged him to analyze it for any potential potion ingredients, but he had to crouch into the hole and get within touching distance before the green wireframe would finally appear and the knowledge started to flow in. Baron''s Jam: The jelly is packed with enough nutrients to perk anyone up and fill them with vitality, whether you use it as a base for potions or spread it over breakfast toast. The new knowledge for such a beneficial ingredient should have made Tapper elated, and it did give him a flash of excitement, but he was more annoyed that he could not also determine what the spheres were despite being able to clearly see them through the layer of jelly. Maybe if he just scooped some out of the way¡­


    [Trap disarm attempt failed]


    Several other messages flashed across the darkness of Tapper''s vision, but none of them were about magic or experience. These were perfectly mundane error alerts regarding damage to the unit''s visual processor, exceeded limits to the audio processor, and a calibration error in the orientation matrix. The cool silence allowed Tapper all the time needed to compute what the alerts meant ¡ª he couldn''t see or hear anything and couldn''t tell which way was up.


    [Status effects gained: Blinded, deafened, stunned, prone]


    Ah, that was more like it. Various system reboots kicked in and the silence was replaced by white noise, which eventually cleared into a faint voice calling his name and a blinding light with a few unfocused blurs. His vision darkened again as something swiped across his face, and that too slowly gained definition until Phanya could barely be seen once again standing over Tapper''s prone form as she kept wiping her hands over the robot''s face.


    "...apper? Tapper!? Can you hear me? Ricky''s going to be so pissed if you got blown apart under my watch¡­"


    [Status effects lost: Blinded, deafened]

 1.7 Squiggly and Angry

    "Miss Phanya? What happened?" The robot''s own voice sounded faint and far off. Same as his vision, which slowly focused to reveal a look of concern on Phanya''s face and a backdrop of bright blue sky lit her hair up like a golden halo. "And when did we leave Mister Rethar''s residence?"


    Phanya let out a deep sigh and sat back on her haunches, letting her stress deflate for a moment before answering. "I''m not sure, I heard this loud, weird pop sound and then found you like this. What happened to you?"


    Recollection had started to trickle in, informing Tapper of new and interesting developments; he was suddenly on his back several meters away from Rethar''s bus, and that he was covered head to tread in baron''s jam. The horrible physical sensation of the sticky organic matter seeping into every crevice on Tapper''s body crashed into the front of his mind all at once, sending the robot into a minor frenzy as he tried to scrape the goo off his body. Panic! His arms were twitchy and spasmodic, a flailing mess and he had barely cleaned any of the jam off before Phanya was suddenly looming over his vision again, holding down his limbs and shouting something about robots having seizures.


    Tapper tried to explain that he just needed help getting rid of the goop, he needed her to let go of his arms, but his mouth wouldn''t cooperate and form the words. He couldn''t even form a coherent thought beyond getitoffgetitoffgetitoff! drowning everything else out, save for some small part of his processor still capable of cold calculations. It was still running a check on all systems to ensure they were functional, and when it gave an alert about his broken spigot Tapper remembered his vacuum attachment. Yes! The vacuum could work, if he could just maneuver it from behind his back then it could suck up all the biomatter. He had to force his speech processor to work, and what came out was clipped and harsh with static. "I n-n-neeed vac-cuum SUCK ¡ª"


    All the internal energy condensed into Tapper''s chest and a line of heat shot up the spindle, activating the vacuum without having to flip the manual switch. The thin multi-jointed arm shot out from under Tapper''s back and whipped around with enough force that Phanya had to throw herself sideways to avoid being struck. She may have said something, but the sound of the vacuum drowned everything out as it began working with more force than either of them had ever seen. Every ounce of goop, and several bits of detritus that had been within arm''s reach, were all sucked up in an instant of whirling, deafening wind, and then the vacuum fell limply to the ground.


    The silence that followed was, in its own way, just as loud. "What¡­ in the blue hells¡­ was that?" Phanya was sitting on the ground, arms still held up defensively and eyes wide, while Tapper slowly stood and double checked that he had indeed cleaned off all the gross organic matter.


    "I apologize for that unbecoming performance, Miss Phanya. I do believe that I was experiencing a panic attack due to unwanted contact with the baron''s jam, but thankfully my vacuum was able to clear the issue." He was clean enough, but his joints were still sluggish and acting at only half capacity for some reason. The mundane diagnostic readouts couldn''t detect anything, and a notification that Tapper had lost the status effect of ''Prone'' hinted that maybe the strange character sheet would be more helpful.


    [HP: 2/4]


    [MP: 5/6]


    [Status debuff: Stunned


    Twirling stars not included. You can only use one action per round, have no reactions, and are considered flat-footed. Anything that disorientates in a way that scrambles your senses, like a flash of light or getting knocked too hard on the head, can cause a stun, but they usually aren''t true injuries. This effect lasts until you pass a Constitution check with a difficulty equal to half the attack roll which caused the debuff.]


    Being stunned sounded like an explanation, even if he didn''t understand most of the words, and it might be related to why he suddenly had spent some mana, but what was HP and why was it affected?


    [HP: 2/4


    Hit Protection represents the sum total of skill and luck that turns fatal damage into near misses and superficial injuries, so think of it as a buffer of protection. Once HP reaches 0 you actually get hit and receive a debilitating injury, resetting the HP counter minus any overflow. Fill all of your Wound boxes and you''re dead! HP recharges to full after a breather, but wounds require more direct intervention.]


    "Tap, I have never seen any vacuum do that. It was, like, the opposite of a hurricane going down that little ¡ª wait what do you mean by panic attack?" Before he could finish reading and answer, Tapper saw that the garbage pile attached to Rethar''s bus had collapsed and was starting to visibly shift. Something lunged out of it as Phanya was mid-turn to see, and she had to roll again to avoid the creature. "Oh for handssake, a damn octolusk!?" Phanya let the momentum carry her to her feet, pirouetting to face whatever had just tried to tackle her.


    The creature was an ugly mass of thrashing red appendages, their whipping motions sending out a constant sprinkle of sickly green mucus that gave an acidic hiss wherever they landed. Two large eyes leered with rectangular pupils from under the lid of a heavy nautiloid shell, its spiral the size and shape of a truck''s tire. The entirety of the octolusk barely went up to Phanya''s hips, but clearly had much more mass than the lithe woman dancing around it.


    Phanya bounced on the balls of her feet, hands up in a boxer''s stance that looked entirely out of place against such a stout animal. She hopped forward and back in short little bursts, staying just out of reach of the tentacles as the octolusk lurched toward her, until an opening presented itself and she gave a sweeping side kick. The attack missed the soft face of the octolusk and bounced off its protective shell, causing Phanya to skip back and hop on one foot while she nursed the other. "Damnit Tapper, help distract this asshole or something!"


    "Apologies Miss Phanya, I''m temporarily stunned!" The proprietor retorted something about giving him a real stun, but Tapper was spending all his processing power on removing the debuff from his system. The robot had no idea what it meant to ''pass a Constitution check,'' yet a few seconds of doing nothing but focusing on that line of his character sheet made it suddenly vanish and Tapper could move as if his joints were freshly lubed. He quickly zipped over until he was standing behind the octolusk, and then halted because he had no idea what he could possibly do to help.


    He tried yelling to get its attention, but after a single glance the animal didn''t regard Tapper as a threat compared to Phanya. Just punching the hard shell clearly wouldn''t do anything, although he was still relatively safe behind the creature¡­ Tapper hooked his hands under the thick lid of the octolusk, reaching as far around the shell as he could, and heaved for all he was worth. Servos screamed in protest and his leg spindle threatened to snap in two, but he was able to lift up the front of the octolusk and expose its underbelly. The creature let out a high-pitched whine and its tentacles thrashed with an aimless desperation that sent spittle flying in every direction, offset by the calm determination on Phanya''s face as she leaned forward on one foot with the other arching back in windup.


    With a grunt of effort Phanya threw her entire body into a soccer kick, straight into the exposed underbelly of the octolusk that connected with a wet, fleshy thunk. The octolusk screamed, Phanya screamed, Tapper screamed. The octolusk went limp, Phanya fell on her butt, Tapper was sent reeling.


    "Ow ow, goddamnit!" Phanya shouted, kicking off her shoe and flicking it away as the acid ate the footwear down to a smoldering heap in seconds. She scrambled back to her feet and limped back to the octolusk, favoring her one good foot as much as possible. "Come on, Tap! The thing''s just knocked out, help me find something to stab it with."


    [Juvenile Octolusk lvl 2 defeated! +2 XP for participation]


    "Surely you don''t intend to kill the creature, Miss Phanya? The fight is over, so the need for violence has passed."Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The tall woman stopped midway on her hunch to grab a jagged metal pole, turning to stare at Tapper with wide eyes. "Yes, Tapper, I do intend to kill the creature. It''s a wild animal, not a pet, it probably killed Rethar already, and it''ll try to kill me when it wakes up. Shouldn''t you bots have some directive about protecting your proprietors from lethal danger? That''s now, so I''m telling you to help me stab the bastard!"


    While the two were arguing, the octolusk''s tentacles twitched and with a burst of speed the animal lurched forward. Phanya, already off balance from her injured foot, fell on her backside again and braced for the oncoming attack. A fake out zig instead sent the octolusk zagging back to the junk pile it had emerged from, stopping to suck up what little baron''s jam that still remained on the ground before diving back into the refuse. The pile shuddered and shifted once more, and then fell still.


    "Oookay, was not expecting it to run away, but still." Phanya grabbed the jagged metal pole and began to limp over to the garbage pile. "It was probably just trying to save its eggs, so we still have to kill it. Come on Tapper, that''s an order." Tapper did follow, but if Phanya had looked back she would have seen the robot showing clear signs of apprehension. No bartender would ever want to kill anything just for the sake of it, especially with the notification that the animal had been properly defeated, but the order was clear and his contract was binding.


    Once at the edge of the refuse pile, Phanya stopped and pointed to it with the point of her impromptu spear. "Alright Tap, here''s the plan: it doesn''t care about you, so you start moving junk until we find it, and then I stab it. Simple, yep, we can totally do this. It definitely won''t eat me the way it did Ret, no siree." It seemed Phanya was speaking to herself more than Tapper at this point, so he got to work hauling debris from the main pile and unceremoniously tossing it into a second, quickly growing pile. Eventually he reached the largest object yet, a refrigeration unit, and despite being an empty shell it takes all of Tapper''s strength to heave it aside. As soon as he does, what remains of the pile suddenly falls inward and almost takes Tapper with it, but Phanya is quick enough to catch him by the nozzle spindle and haul him back.


    What was left of the pile was only a hole. An oval nearly three meters across at the widest point, the perfectly symmetrical gap entered a shaft that ran down at a shallow angle, showing nothing but concrete pavement on all sides until the sunlight couldn''t reach any further and only pitch blackness remained. Tapper leaned over the edge for a better look and increased the luminosity of his eyes until they became impromptu flashlights, detailing the separate layers of stone construction in neat and defined contrasting rings that ran for over a dozen meters before suddenly stopping. Below that was simply more garbage, although this looked significantly more compacted and ancient compared to everything he had seen on the surface.


    Phanya''s grip on Tapper tightened when the hole was revealed until her knuckles were practically white against her dark skin. "Blue hells, the bastard had his own mine shaft." Her voice was barely a whisper, although whether it was because she didn''t want to alert the octolusk or because she was really just talking to herself, Tapper had no idea. "It must¡­ it must''ve appeared during the last phase shift a few weeks ago, right in his backyard and he didn''t tell anyone. No wonder he was taking longhaul!"


    Deep brown eyes rapidly blinked as Phanya shook herself back to reality and remembered that she wasn''t alone here. Turning back to Tapper, she clapped her hands with a newfound intensity directed straight at the confused robot. "Okay, change of plans! The octolusk probably isn''t coming back, so we''re going to push everything we can into the hole and conceal it, and then head home with a job well done. Hop to it." Phanya bent down to heave a toilet into the hole but immediately let out a pained hiss, the injuries to her foot finally overcoming her adrenaline as the acidic wounds started to blister. "Nevermind, change to the change. You start heaving trash into the hole and I''ll go see if Rethar has any spare shoes lying around."


    Well, if they were really writing off Rethar as a lost cause¡­ "Excuse me Miss Phanya, before you acquire new footwear I believe I can help with your injuries." Tapper quickly rummaged for a piece of cloth he could tear into strips, quickly but gingerly wrapping her foot up to where the cuff of her pants had been eaten away. Phanya let herself be treated with a bemused grin, but pulled away when Tapper pulled out the bottle of medicine.


    "Whoa whoa, isn''t that what you had for Rethar? Y''know, for his broken bones? I don''t think that''ll work on acid burns."


    Tapper didn''t wait to explain before soaking the bandage in his potion; some customers just needed to be served without knowing exactly what they wanted. "Not to worry, Miss Phanya, this potion works on all physical injuries."


    Surprisingly, Miss Phanya did not seem convinced by this. "Wait, you didn''t just use medical nanites on my foot, did you?"


    Longing, mixed with mild melancholy. Only the really high-class robots were equipped with nanotechnology, far more advanced than any bartender. Tapper sighed internally to shake the strange feeling before saying, "Not at all, this is actually a magic potion."


    Now Miss Phanya looked neither convinced nor reassured. "Riiiight, magic. Sure. I''m going to go find a shoe now, before I think any more about what you just slathered on my foot." The proprietor excused herself into the bus, and with the satisfaction of helping out Tapper got to work filling in the hole. He had actually made some progress before Miss Phanya emerged again, now wearing a bright neon sneaker that greatly contrasted with the rest of her muted clothing. Together they made short work shoving everything they could into the pavement''s gap, and by the end they were left with what looked like nothing more than a slightly smaller pile of garbage before Phanya declared it a success and they started the journey home.


    The proprietor was walking with an air of a job well done, so Tapper let that emotion permeate for a moment before he spoke up. "Miss Phanya, why were you so enamored with that hole in the pavement? It looked like it just had more garbage inside."


    "Because that''s not just garbage Tap my man, that''s money. Fableton earns all its coin from finding salvageable tech in the garbage, but the junk that gets delivered here now has already been picked over and hardly ever has anything useful in it. Used to be that they would just throw away anything so we got by on that, but now we have to send workers to the mines too. There''s some real good salvage underground from before the Fresh Start, and the only way you can get down below the ''mac is with a giant mining drill and of course the miners hoard that tech. So the only real option for us is to get lucky with an earthquake or phase shift to open up a shaft, and for one to happen inside Fableton? We just got real lucky, bot. Yep, I think things are going to change around here."


    Most of what Miss Phanya was saying washed right over the robot, but he didn''t interrupt her. She was more excited than the bartender had seen her ever since Tapper had first woken up in this strange town.


    <hr>


    By the time they returned to the town center Phanya had managed to properly drill it into the robot that it was not to speak a word of Rethar or the mine shaft to anyone. Not Ricky, not Ms. Uxral, no one. They had to be very careful about this, if Rethar doesn''t show up eventually then they can just say he was lost to the dunes and mourn him that way. The thought of just discarding hope for Rethar like that made her stomach churn, but this opportunity was too big. If Phanya could separate the old man''s unfortunate death with the mineshaft, and if Phanya made sure to maintain security against the octolusks, and if the town was subtle about setting up their own operation, then they could finally have some proper profit for Skratsville. Without anyone taking a cut! But even the drool-inducing daydreams of a real home were set aside when Phanya walked into the warehouse and Aazran, through the bandages muzzling his snout, announced that it was finally movie night again.


    With a few hours left until sundown Phanya helped the old reptile in eyeing a few more advertisements, just to make sure there was enough watchtime to spare, while Tapper set about rearranging all the tables and chairs into neat rows facing the far wall. An ancient projector was wheeled out, the only one they''ve found that could still connect to tablets, and all the stockpiled snacks that had anything to do with "popped" or "corn" were dumped into bowls and handed out to everyone.


    The crowd immediately fell silent when the movie started ¡ª no one wanted to get thrown out for interrupting again ¡ª even if it was the same documentary that played in the last movie night. It started with ancient footage of massive plants the size of buildings with giant green heads whipping violently around in the wind, the camera slowly zooming in with swelling ominous music to match the pace. A voice began to narrate once the camera got close enough for animals to be seen, describing how their sharp claws and venomous fangs could tear anyone apart if they ever ventured into the untamed wilds. Something orange with stripes leapt out of nowhere right for the camera and a few yelps of fear sprang from the audience, but the camera dodged and kept its forward momentum.


    The narrator talked about the dangers of vermin, then bugs, then finally germs as the camera''s zoom showed monsters of each type until it reached the microscopic level in a scummy puddle. Several attendees made sounds of disgust in time with the movie, but Phanya noticed that Tapper was the worst of them all and the robot looked like it would have vomited if it had a stomach. Finally, with a flash all the dirty and chaotic forest was crushed underneath a giant rolling black carpet that left behind perfectly flat and uniform asphalt as far as the eye could see. The music reached a crescendo as a sprawling metropolis grew out of the ground, and with a flourish the narrator announced the Fresh Start Initiative. Clean and perfect living for everyone!


    Phanya sighed. Maybe one day Fableton will grow into a city that grand all on its own, but until then she had her people and she had her work. Right at this moment she was content, having practically forgotten all about her responsibilities and her injury and the strange speed at which it had stopped hurting. Things were finally looking up.

 1.8 Dont Forget to Tip

    Phanya and Ms. Uxral were out having a secret conversation when it came time to pay dues. A small lapse in thought had both women forget to tell Tapper, so the robot was none the wiser when a massive figure entered the warehouse with a cloak of dread in their wake. The figure was so wide it had to enter through the door sideways and as soon as they cleared the entry most of the customers quietly made themselves scarce. Even Ricky was shaken from his deep concentration on reading a tablet, giving a panicked look around the emptying room before awkwardly walking out of the warehouse as quickly as he could manage.


    At first Tapper thought another robot had joined the town, but when the figure turned to face the warehouse he could see bulging muscles and sinews connecting the hulking metal plates together. A live turret was bolted to one shoulder and followed the gaze of the segmented face as it swept across the warehouse, pausing to examine and aim at every customer as they filed out the door. One hand was replaced with a giant three-fingered pneumatic gripper and it constantly flexed, snapping shut with enough force to make whoever was nearest give the tiniest yelp before they quieted back down. If Tapper wasn''t programmed to assume the best from patrons, he might have suspected that the newcomer was having fun frightening the customers and scaring them away!


    When it finally noticed Tapper, the turret snapped up with unwavering aim and their face turned in on a snarl. The half that was still flesh, anyways. They walked up to the bar with steps heavy enough to make the floor shudder, the thudding accompanied by the mechanical whine of load-bearing bracers that had been welded right onto the flesh of their legs, and when they reached the counter they had to duck slightly to clear the kitchen''s overhang. The figure was large even for enhanced humanoid standards, leering right over Tapper and taking up the entirety of his view.


    One hand was the only purely natural limb that Tapper could see, and it kept twitching with nervous energy. One of their eyes had been replaced with a single red laser pointer lens and their chest was covered in heavy plating with diodes that blinked away for unknown reasons. It was difficult to tell the integrated components apart from natural flesh until he was right up close, but the figure was sporting more mechanical augmentations than the statistical norm for organic beings.


    This was an enhanced humanoid, bioengineered to be the ideal soldier and normally seen in the frontline of war. The intention behind their design placed them closer to numen than the random alterations found in hybrids and amalgams, but unlike numen there was little consideration placed on the form over the function ¡ª super soldiers commonly had an odd gray-blue hue to their skin, little to no hair, and oversized lower jaws. As a good bartender Tapper knew this because he was programmed to anticipate and ignore aesthetic imperfections, if their proprietor wished it.


    Aazran''s voice popped up in the silence, though Tapper couldn''t see where from behind the hulking figure. "H-hey, Zero! Already the first of the month, huh? No worries, I''ll get those dues to you in no time." A low growl was either the response, or just the sound of the counter groaning in protest as the newcomer leaned more of their weight onto it.


    Well, if he was a regular customer and hadn''t broken the code of conduct then Tapper wasn''t going to discriminate. "Good afternoon, welcome guest! Did I correctly hear that your name is Mister Zero?"


    "That''s right, cuz Zero is better''n first place. Nothing comes before Zero, not even mister!" Soldier enhancements generally had a slightly ''gravely'' tinge to their voice as a side effect of their bioengineering process, and Bowson Incorporated? robots were programmed to not draw attention to this fact, but Zero''s voice also had an electric modular quality that made it scratchy and distracting. Possibly the result of an injury, which any bartender would also know not to acknowledge. "You better remember that, bot."


    "Certainly, you have the logic of dreams!"


    Zero halted all movement for a beat, even his breathing. "What?"


    "I am programmed to offer helpful idioms, sir. May I offer you a drink?"


    The broad figure swelled slightly as it took in a sharp breath, some of the diodes on their body turning red in a sudden sign of aggression. "I said my name is ¡ª"


    Aazran''s voice cut in with, "Okay, there we go! Sorry it took so long, hah hah." Zero leaned back at this, revealing that the warehouse was now completely deserted save for the company of three. Aazran flashed a few electronic coins in his hand before dropping them into a latching box and holding it aloft to the much larger humanoid.


    Zero snatched the box in his giant claw, squeezed it until the plastic broke, and dumped the coins into a secondary hand that folded out of his chest unit. Upon contacting the metal flesh there was a series of electronic beeps as Zero successfully transferred the funds on each coin into his own personal wallet, and a grumble rolled out of his chest in contemplation. "You''re a bit short. Again."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Aazran''s long snout fell open and he stuttered as the false jovial nature cracked. "The hell we are! I counted down to the cent."


    "There''s a convenience fee for me taking the funds myself. And now I''m adding on another convenience fee for my patience, so that''ll be¡­ another two coin in total." A grin spread over Zero''s face without a hint of friendship to it. "Would you like to pay now, or start charging interest for next month?" The elder reptile didn''t say anything back, standing stock still except for the neck frill that kept twitching as Aazran fumed. Zero just laughed, put the empty coins back into the broken box, and threw it at Aazran''s chest with enough force to make him stumble.


    Since Tapper was not a party to this transaction he had been watching passively, but the instant the box struck Aazran the robot''s new protection directive took over. "Sir! We will not have fighting in the marketplace, please leave at once!" The three-fingered mechanical hand snapped around Tapper''s torso before he had even registered any movement. Zero turned slowly, standing at his full 2.4 meter height and lifting his captive up with one hand to match. When Tapper''s head bumped against the overhang to the kitchen Zero didn''t stop, lifting with more force until the flimsy construction cracked and collapsed around the flailing robot and the two were eye level. There was so much naked hate radiating from the cyborg that Tapper could feel it without social programming, and an automatic fear response had him scrambling to pry the heavy-duty hinges off.


    "No piece of skrat bot is going to talk back to me," Zero growled through a heaving chest, squeezing on Tapper''s torso with enough force that it began to dent under the pressure. An alert flashed in his vision, but Zero''s terrifying visage stared right through it. "You come in and replace people, acting like you''re so much better than us. But I know you aren''t one of the boss'' little toys, so at least I can play with you." He reeled back his organic fist for a massive haymaker punch, but before he could throw it Aazran leapt off a table and hooked his one good arm around Tapper.


    "Wait, Zero! Don''t hurt the robot and I''ll get you the money now. Dammit you punk, I said you''d get your coin!"


    The little robot''s strength was no match for a pneumatic vice grip, but over the past few days he had figured out how to replicate that vacuum trick with intent. Sometimes. There was some missing element to it and Tapper couldn''t make it work every single time, but it was strong enough to suck up little vermin so maybe it would at least cause a distraction. It was a long shot but with his hands scraping uselessly against the vice grip there weren''t many other options, so he focused on his inner energy and felt it swell in anticipation. "Sir, let me go and I will escort you out of the establishment. Suck!" The energy coalesced into a bright point and shot out, but instead of zipping to his vacuum like normal the energy flew to his hands and kept going until it vanished, dissipating outwards.


    Zero sagged slightly as the strain of holding up the combined weight of Tapper and Aazran suddenly became too much for him to bear, and his grip loosened just enough for Tapper to slip out and tumble to the floor. Since Aazran had the misfortune of being on Tapper''s back he was dragged down as well, but quickly scrambled to his feet and stood between the two as he begged Zero to calm down.


    The giant soldier wasn''t interested in listening, both giant hands on his head and legs wobbling against their bracers. "Ngh¡­ the hell did you do to me? Everything''s swimming, can''t think¡­ I''ll kill you!" Zero tried to glare at Tapper but the turret on his back was no longer following his sight with any precision, so when it fired Tapper was spared obliteration. But he was close enough that the cannon''s roar still overloaded his sensors and everything blinked out, leaving nothing in his vision except a notification for the stunned debuff. He could feel a hand grip his arm, and when the condition cleared he saw that Aazran had drug both of them behind an upturned table for cover.


    The cannon missed Tapper, but Zero could still hit the broad side of a warehouse. Zero stared in shock at the 2 meter-wide hole in the wall before whatever affliction cleared and he pointed at their hiding place with refocused rage. "You two made me miss! I''ll crush both of you into godsdamn canned lizard meat!" Zero grabbed the table and the instant he wrenched it away Aazran was on his feet, diving to the side in a surprising burst of agility. He threw a piece of rubble at Zero''s head to divide his attention, and was already rolling under and through a table when the great metal claw crashed down. Over and over Zero''s fists fell like hammer blows, crumpling whatever furniture he hit but always just short of actually catching the reptilian.


    Even Tapper could tell that Aazran was in extreme danger, but after the failed spell he couldn''t think of any other way to help. The only reason Aazran made it his far was because Zero abandoned his integrated weapons and was thrashing about in a blind rage, but once that stopped they were both in trouble. He was too slow to think and a second explosion rang out, quieter than the first but still loud enough to freeze everyone in their place. Aazran was unharmed, Tapper was unharmed, and Zero was confused as he lowered his upraised arm to find nothing but a pulped nub where his fist should be.


    Zero openly bled for a moment, the bioengineered fluid splashing on the floor in thick globules before realization overcame shock and he screamed. Fear and pain and rage all mixed together into a wordless oath that Zero issued to everyone in Fableton before a burst of movement sent him crashing through the damaged wall and out of sight. Tapper, at an utter loss of what just happened, looked at Aazran and followed the reptile''s gaze towards the front door of the warehouse.


    Ricky peeked around the doorframe with his hands still pressed firmly against his ears, and in front of him knelt Struzick; braced down on one knee and still looking through the sight of his smoking coil gun.


    [Cyborg Taxman lvl 5 defeated! +3XP for participation]

 1.9 Give and Take

    The silence weighed heavy in the air before Ricky broke it. "That skrat was crazy! Are you guys okay??" His voice was a bit too loud and a bit too manic, possibly from the adrenaline, but he scrambled into the warehouse to check on everyone without hesitation. "Man I knew that Zero hated robots but I didn''t expect that and Struzick didn''t even flinch!"


    "I believe we are both unharmed. And we would have not stayed that way if you had not retrieved Mister Struzick, so thank you for your assistance Mister Ricky." Tapper had also experienced an adrenaline surge and did not enjoy it, but thankfully once the danger had passed his systems purged the emotion with much more efficiency than Mister Ricky could apparently manage.


    Ricky was still bouncing around too much to notice that neither Aazran or Struzick had said a word, the two instead meeting in the middle of the floor to stare down at the rifle. Nothing seemed out of place about the weapon except that a steady red light now glowed from its information panel, highlighting the mixed looks of disbelief and resignation that both men were wearing. When Tapper noticed he excused himself from Ricky and rolled forward, getting within earshot just in time to hear Aazran mumble, "You sodding scab, you actually used the last bullet."


    This was enough to also bring Struzick to his senses and the guardsman answered with a scoff. "Of course I did, you were fighting that bulk like a welp. Told you I would." Another beat later and they reached some kind of unspoken understanding, the rifle forgotten on the floor as the two men embraced in a tight hug.


    Tapper gave a second for the emotional moment to play out before he spoke up, "Pardon me sirs, is everything alright?"


    With a scrambling of limbs and a few sniffles the two men resumed their usual gruff demeanor. "Ah aye young robot, everything is fine," Struzick said. "Everything except for my rifle, that is. It was tossed for only so many rounds, and now I''ve finally run out."


    "My apologies, but¡­ tossed?"


    "Uh, terms of service," Struzick said, waving away the unintentional slang. "You know, the contract. Mine has finally run out." Tapper nodded in understanding and asked the obvious question of why Struzick didn''t just renew the terms, which got a bitter bark of a laugh from the man. "Because the corp that sold me this rifle no longer exists, and never will again." Struzick had picked up the rifle again with the readout up close to his face, but it seemed the older human was really looking somewhere far, far in the past.


    "Stars above, what happened here??" Four sets of eyes spun to the shrill voice, finding Miss Uxral and Phanya at the head of a small crowd of onlookers.


    Ricky, still in his mania, was the first to answer. "Oh Ms. Uxral, it was wild! Zero showed up for dues but I couldn''t find you so I found Struzick and by the time we got back Zero had flown into some sorta berserker rage and was smashing all the tables but Struzick just knelt down and he got Zero with one shot like blam! Blew his hand clear off!" By now Ricky had climbed on top of an undamaged table and was flapping his arms for emphasis before the adrenaline finally started to wear off. "That was¡­ actually really scary. I didn''t know Zero was that strong. Ohhhh, he''s going to come back and he''s going to be angry, isn''t he?" Ricky climbed down into a chair and curled up to process, but all the attention had already turned to Miss Uxral.


    "Is this true?" Her voice was just as unwavering as her focus on the two brothers.


    Struzick stood up straight to attention and said, "Aye, ma''am. He was incoherent and going for the kill with Aazran." Then he broke eye contact and gave an almost sheepish shrug before adding, "...Sorry."


    Then Aazran stepped forward before Struzick could say anything else. "It was my fault, the bulk bastard tacked on another fee and I lost my cool instead of just paying it. He''s a damned thief, but I should''ve acted better."


    With the two men admitting to their roles, Tapper felt compelled to speak up about his own part. "I believe I had actually set him on edge, Miss Uxral. What goes up must stay up. I may have said something to offend him, and although I do not understand what that was, I apologize for my actions."


    The feline''s lips were pressed into a tight line and her ears laid flat on her head, but once she held out a hand everyone stopped talking. "It''s fine, it''s fine, no more apologizing please. That young man has been walking on the edge for a while now and it was only a matter of time before he finally fell over, none of you did anything wrong. But¡­ it is going to cost us." She took a breath to steady the waver that had crept into her voice before continuing. "Tapper, please start cleaning this mess up by moving all this broken furniture into a pile outside. Ask around if anyone has any spare nails, maybe we can use the table pieces to patch up the wall. Everyone else, let''s start seeing where we can pull funds from." With that the tension broke and everyone started moving to clean up or talk, but a somber air hung over the warehouse.


    Tapper was already working on the pile outside when Ricky finally came fully back to his senses. He walked up a huddled conversation between Ms. Uxral, Aazran, Struzick, and Phanya, rubbing his face as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. "Man, did all of that really happen?" Phanya swinging her arm around Ricky''s shoulders in a side hug was all the answer that he needed, and Ricky let out a slow breath in response. "What in the hell ¡ª I mean heck ¡ª happened to Zero? I''ve never seen anyone that size move that fast before."


    Aazran scoffed. "Never seen a cybroid on the brink before, eh kid?" Ricky just blinked dumbly in response. "...Oh you really haven''t. Sophia, what the hell have you been teaching these kids?"The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "My students learn things about life that no onboarding program would teach." There was a subtle growl to Ms. Uxral''s voice, and the two immediately launched into an argument on what exactly warrants necessary life lessons. There wasn''t an explosion of fire and passion, just the measured but forceful tones of a debate that they have gone through a hundred times before and will have a hundred times in the future.


    All of this was not reassuring Ricky in the slightest, so Struzick laid a reassuring hand on his head. "Lad, look on the bright side. Falling into the cyber fever is a gradual process, and if it has already started then he probably won''t ever find his way back here by the time he''s truly lost. I''d be more worried about Belvidere."


    After a nudge from Phanya, Ricky let out a nervous chuckle and said, "Okay well, thank you. I think I''ll go and see if I can research anything on cybroids, that''ll make me feel better."


    <hr>


    Tapper hadn''t said as much, but he was relieved that Miss Uxral assigned an easy chore that left him by himself. He needed time to examine what had just happened ¡ª to "get lost in his thoughts," if he understood the slang ¡ª so Tapper set up a hauling and pathing subroutine that took up the least amount of his processing power that he could manage and let his body run semi-automatically. The rest of his clock speed was all directed toward running through the combat encounter, second by second, to figure out how things had gone so wrong. Especially his attempt to distract with the Suck spell, it was the closest thing to combat that Tapper had any confidence in and it had completely backfired. It took him a few minutes to remember the path of prompts he discovered after the octolusk fight, but eventually the popup for casting spells once again flooded his vision:


    [Spellcasting


    A mage can''t earn a wage if they don''t cast spells! Every subclass of magic user has their own unique way of harnessing magic, but mechanically it comes out the same for nearly everyone: you take your spell components, pour your intent and your mana into them, and then unleash them into the world to wreak havoc and save lives alike. Normally you would want to take your time carefully casting your spell to avoid any blowbacks, just like you learned in school, but during the heat of combat it''s generally pretty difficult to pull out the cleansing incense and reference notebooks. In those unfortunate times where you''re ambushed by bandits you''ll have to rely on instant spellcasting, but outside of combat if you can afford the effort then you will always want to use careful spellcasting.]


    [Instant Spellcasting


    Wake up to find a troll breaking into your room? No problem, you know Scorch Fountain like the back of your hand! Instant spellcasting lets you go toe to toe with the burliest of fighters (so long as they don''t get too close) and it always follows the same basic rules:


    1. Any attempt takes one action, and counts as an attack action for the purposes of feat synergy.


    2. Even in combat you can take a moment to prolong your spellcasting attempt in a "semi-careful" way. You take one full round to cast a spell instead of one action, chanting for verbal spellcasters or waving your hands for gesture spellcasters the entire time, and at the start of your next round you cast the spell with a bonus to your roll. This bonus is cumulative if you spend multiple successive rounds casting the spell, with a maximum bonus equal to your spellcasting level.


    3. It costs 1 MP per word to attempt a spell, whether you succeed or fail.


    4. Failing a casting roll by more than 10 will cause the spell to fizzle and you lose those components for the rest of the day, and possibly cause a backfire of wild magic. A critical failure in the spell attempt, or failing the save for taking damage during prolonged casting, guarantees a backfire!


    5. These spells are temporary and vanish once the spell is finished, and if you didn''t hold it or cast the spell with a time component then it will last for only one full round.


    6. Successful spells always hit their mark so long as you can clearly perceive the target, unless you''re casting with only one component. Single component spells can only affect either yourself or someone you are touching, and in combat the latter also requires making a Dexterity check against their dodge threshold if you aren''t already touching.]


    Tapper read the description again, but when nothing jumped out as an explanation he continued his mental review of the fight. The energy did well up in his CPU as a successful spell, he was almost sure of it ¡ª when practicing on vermin, a failed spell always popped that energy like a small balloon of pain, but that didn''t happen this time. The line of energy did form, it just traveled to and through his hands similar to when he was mixing potions. That means it must have flowed out¡­ and into Zero''s hand as it gripped him? The description did say something about casting spells on other people while touching them. That did make sense, but it left the question of what happened to Zero because he probably did not have a vacuum attachment like Tapper.


    The robot''s internal dictionary knew that suck was a synonym for vacuum, usually one organics used for forming a vacuum with their mouth, but after inquiring further revealed more informal uses. A good bartender should try to avoid slang whenever possible, so it was a surprise to Tapper to find that suck was also a catch-all term for anything bad or negative. How strange! And Zero was suddenly very bad at moving and aiming his weapon, even if the effect only lasted for approximately five seconds. It made some degree of sense, but Tapper would need to experiment on what else he could pour his magic into.


    The only other piece of information was an alert that appeared during the fight and remained persistently in the corner of his vision:


    [Injury: Cracked ribs


    -1 Constitution and disadvantage to all checks regarding holding or controlling your breath]


    Tapper processed the meaning of the pop up while a hand subconsciously felt at the dents in his torso. Thankfully he didn''t need to breathe at all, but a check to his character sheet did confirm that his Constitution now showed a glowing red 5. On top of that, there was a new line on his character sheet that really drove the point home:


    [Wounds: ???]


    At some deep level he knew that this wound represented the greatest danger that Tapper had faced in his short life, and until it was fully fixed he was going to be that much closer to complete destruction. Repairing it was a priority, and if Mister Ricky could not help with that then he was in real trouble.

 1.10 A Funeral and a Fundraiser

    Phanya couldn''t believe their horrible luck. She had finally, finally convinced Ms. Uxral to try opening up their own secret mining operation, and they were both so wrapped up in planning that they forgot today was tax day. Now Zero was hurt and they were all going to pay, and Phanya couldn''t help but blame herself for the slipup. Gotta do better, gotta keep ahead.


    The elders agreed that the best way forward was for the town to combine Rethar''s funeral services and the fund drive into one event. The idea tasted bitter to everyone involved, but it also would have felt unfair to disperse Rethar''s wealth like normal and then turn right around and re-collect everything that wasn''t absolutely needed. Phanya, a little too eager to make amends, was ready to run straight back to Rethar''s home to start collecting goods, only stopping at Ms. Uxral''s stern urging that she at least wait for a few trusted adults to accompany her. They had to be briefed on the new mine shaft, which took precious time, but they could at least help push the large trailer and ensure that Phanya didn''t overexert herself.


    The only reason Ricky didn''t accompany them was because he was nowhere to be found. Tapper reached the teen proprietor first and explained his immediate need for repairs, which Ricky jumped on with equal urgency. He led the robot back to the hideout in which it had first awoken and pulled out a metal box as Tapper laid down on the floor. The box was full of every usable tool that Ricky collected over the years ¡ª hammers, pliers, a couple wrenches of random sizes, even a blowtorch. The blowtorch''s terms of service had long expired, but he hoped to one day learn how to make his own. For now, all he could do was his best.


    Ricky wedged open Tapper''s access panel and breathed a sigh of relief. The small computer interface, the pneumatic struts that handled movement, and the microgenerator were all way outside of Ricky''s capacity to repair but they all appeared undamaged. The dents in his torso actually seemed mostly cosmetic, but at Tapper''s insistence Ricky grabbed a small hammer and began the long, difficult process of gently tapping out the dents from the inside.


    The process was actually surprisingly meditative once the shock wore off, not unlike when he would slowly hammer metal scrap into figures and toys for the other kids, so Ricky quickly fell into a trance of gentle tapping. He did love working with metal, the way it could be both such a sturdy material but also malleable under the correct conditions resonated with the young man in the strangest way. Or maybe it was just because Ricky had spent so many days imagining all the things they could do with metal, if only he had the correct tools. Even a cursory glance at Tapper''s inner workings was giving him ideas, like welds that were starting to come undone and areas he could reinforce to keep the little robot from getting dented again.


    One of the most interesting bits of literature that Ricky had ever found was an advertisement on the Hyperweld from Duponic Industries, which could fuse materials down at the subatomic level. Hand above, all the things he could do with one of those! The construction possabilities alone were endless, everyone could have a proper home instead of living in shacks held together with wire.


    Or maybe it was just because he was still trying to find the best way to help Fableton. Ricky was right in that awkward age where he was too old to play dug-a-bug with the younger kids and too young to resign himself to working at the recycling facility or the mines for the rest of his life. He really didn''t want to do either and all of the older adults have stressed that there were plenty of other ways to contribute ¡ª Wiessa was allowed to spend all day every day trying to turn plants into free food despite no success yet, and Grandbag Bristol was constantly weaving plastic bags into rope that was used for just about anything. But without proper tools, there was only so much Ricky could do without feeling like a freeloader.


    The sun sat just above the junk dunes when they finished, waiting to tell Ricky just how badly he had lost track of time, and he tried to sneak them both back into town. But he was still lost in his thoughts, and caught entirely unawares when Tapper suddenly spoke up. Ricky didn''t jump at Tapper, but he might''ve jumped just a little bit when Ms. Uxral answered his greeting.


    She graciously pretended not to notice and explained that Phanya and the others had returned with all of Rethar''s belongings, so they were going to hold the funeral for him soon. But, she continued explaining that they needed to raise some funds quickly after the incident with Zero.


    Ms. Uxral looked Ricky up and down ¡ª covered in an obscuring layer of tools, bags, and hanging knick knacks that they forgot to leave at the hideout ¡ª and very pointedly said that nothing was worthy of taking to sell. Except maybe this tablet here, the only thing it contained was a catalog over a decade old and she knew that Ricky had already memorized every word of it. Ricky gave a noncommittal shrug to hide his internal wince, the Hyperweld that tablet described would always live on in his dreams and this was for the good of the town.


    Ricky joined everyone that wasn''t at work, gathering in the street before the warehouse to form a loose ring around a trailer. The trailer itself was just a simple metal platform with low walls and small wheels, but it was the largest functioning trailer that Fableton had. What the town did not have was its own vehicle to pull it, but thankfully a mercenary happened to be passing by with a car and a reasonable price tag. Their vehicle and its overlapping armored plates looked like a pillbug on wheels, but it tugged along the little trailer and its towering heap of Rethar''s belongings.


    Bulging bags piled high and threatened to spill over, held in place with generous amounts of braided plastic rope, and in front of the trailer Phanya and several other adults were taking a break. All of them were slick with sweat and downing bottles of water, it looked like they had been doing hard labor all afternoon and gratefully stepped aside when Ms. Uxral started to direct the proceedings.


    The setup didn''t take long, every month it seemed that someone was lost to a collapsing mine tunnel or faulty recycling machinery so everyone knew the traditions. The crowd was everyone in town that could possibly attend, regardless of their relation to the deceased. Even complete strangers would show up if they could afford it, and so the crowd was always a loose and informal mingling of small talk about the departed''s achievements. At some point a large ball would be introduced, patched and re-patched so often that no one remembers what it originally looked like, and tossed into the crowd. Anyone that caught the ball would announce something of value that the departed brought into the world and the crowd would respond with praise, and then the ball would get randomly passed to someone else.


    Below that revelry a second, more somber procession was also being held. Anyone that had any real stories about the deceased would bring their own bottles of alcohol into the crowd, passing out drinks and telling their tales just to the immediate attendees. These stories would travel just as far as the declarations, sometimes further, only they''d also grow and mutate as whispered rumors. Finally, a lone tablet would be passed through the entire gathering, allowing anyone to anonymously donate leave hours to the family of the dead.


    Except, Rethar didn''t have any family. And the reading of the contract didn''t indicate anyone to inherit his own saved leave hours, so it defaulted to the base contract and every person in Fableton received an equal share of his hours. A surprising share of hours at that, and whole new rumors suddenly sprang to life regarding Rethar''s wealth of leave and what he had been saving up for. Ms. Uxral quickly stood up and shushed them back down, reminding everyone that on top of this tragedy, they were also faced with the difficulty of additional debt with the miners. So while redistribution of wealth will still happen, anything that doesn''t get claimed will immediately get sent to the recycling facility for reclamation. The profit margins for selling to the recycling facility were awful, but also one of the fastest ways to raise funds for Fableton.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    The energy of the crowd quickly shifted as Ms. Uxral spoke. An equal claim to the unwilled were sometimes seen as the one silver lining to these funerals by some, and there were definitely some grumblings on just settling the debt by giving the miners the robot that caused all this. But no one formally called for a counteroffer, so the crowd that broke off and approached the loaded trailer was much smaller than normal. Some even had to be encouraged inward, like Grandbag Bristol, practically pushed forward to claim the electric scooter that everyone knew he both needed and earned.


    At the end a little under half of the hoard was claimed. The mercenary never left his pillbug car during the proceedings, claiming that he had already been paid. Tomorrow anyone working at the recycling facility will sneak in small bits of the haul and add it to the queue of good salvage, and any reclamation profits will get paid to the town fund directly. It won''t be enough, surprise debts with the mine always seem to be just a bit more costly than what they actually have, but it would help a great deal. For now there was just the grief, the guilt, the curiosity, and the celebration of Rethar.


    <hr>


    Phanya knew it wasn''t going to be enough. She knew this because this was punishment for her trying to capitalize on Rethar''s death, and no matter how much she justified it Phanya knew that on some level she had just gotten greedy. It was always bad luck to bet on the Phase, and the instant she even thought of profiting off the new tunnel there was suddenly a new debt to pay. And just like all the scary stories, of course Phanya could see no way out except to use the curse of this bad deal to escape it.


    Every spare moment that she could find had Phanya sneaking off to the mine entrance, often dragging Tapper along to haul trash if the robot wasn''t busy obsessively brewing his ''magic potions.'' There was so much for her to do, from setting up safety structures to hold up the tunnel and hiding the entrance. The latter was something Phanya could do with ease, but she didn''t know the first thing about engineering. No one that she would trust with this knew, except for Ricky. She didn''t want to involve him, but she also knew just how hurt he would feel if she didn''t come to him for exactly this sort of problem¡­


    The young woman was so lost in her stressful musings that she almost didn''t notice the smoke column one morning. A single thin line of multicolored smoke acted as a beacon, drawing the eye down to see the long dark vehicle that it was connected to. No! It had only been two weeks, they should''ve had more time! Phanya cursed herself blue as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd, just as the limo stopped in front of the warehouse and lowered onto its grav rails.


    The first person to step out of the long car was the driver, a rail-thin reptilian that scrambled to open the rear passenger door. The second man was comfortably overweight in his late middle-aged years and wore a suit that at least attempted coherent style, and the crowd fell silent for a brief moment. It was somehow easy to forget that the owner of the mining operation was an amalgam of barely over two feet tall. It was easy to forget that he rode on a personal hoverchair, or that his hands were webbed, or that the pupils of his eyes were the wrong blobby shape.


    Somehow, Mr. Belvidere always managed to appear in memory as just the friendly grandpa that helped hook you up with that job. This image quickly reasserted itself and the crowd closed in, reaching to shake his hand and thank the man for all the work he brought to Fableton. The older man was happy to react, nodding to those that couldn''t reach him and making small talk as he moved through the crowd. Once he crossed the threshold into the warehouse the fans quickly thinned, the last few hangers-on muttering their thanks before scurrying out into the open. Even though the loading doors stayed open to expose the entire interior, all the normal townsfolk had received the unspoken instruction to give some space. The adults needed to talk.


    Mr. Belvidere was the first one to talk, nodding his head in polite greeting. "Sophia, it''s been too long. I see your little town project is still thriving, warms my heart to see a fellow entrepreneur enjoy the fruits of their labor."


    "Yes thank you Mr. Belvidere, always happy when we can work toward mutual growth." Ms. Uxral was calm and measured, cool bordering on icy. She stood in the middle of the warehouse floor, tables and chairs already cleared aside for her and a handful of trusted adults. Tapper was there too, and Phanya darted to the side where she joined Ricky in a hidden nook among the stalls.


    The two immediately launched into a whispered argument on where the hell they''ve been, and what the hell was going on. Missing your sibling for even a day can take precedence over common sense, and the two forgot how much danger they were in until Ms. Uxral''s voice suddenly took on an edge. "Alright, enough with the niceties. We hurt one of yours, and on behalf of Fableton I am ready to pay reparations. How much?"


    The little man heaved a heavy sigh, the dramatic motion causing his hoverchair to bobble. "Sophia, why so clinical? You know each of my employees are invaluable."


    The feline woman rolled her slitted eyes and flicked a large coin in his direction. One of the lackeys caught it and verified the amount of funds on it. They all knew how much was on it before they even arrived, this was more to verify that any hadn''t been hidden away. Somehow they always knew, but this is how the dance had taken shape. The head miner would think on it, then they''d haggle ¡ª


    "Oh I''m touched, but this is far too much money!" Ms. Uxral almost choked at the words, Belvidere never asked for less money than they offered. He swiped a hand over the coin and it was sent flipping back with half of its money still present, and in the stunned silence his demeanor took a darker turn. "That''s the money part, at least. You find yourself a robot to give you some free labor and you don''t tell me? And then that robot goes and hurts one of my toys. It hurt his feelings, and after you fed through my hand? That hurts my feelings, Sophia." Everyone on Fableton''s side of the crowd flinched at his words, but Belvidere continued unbidden. "Now, I know it was actually your gate guard that shot him, but that''s just medicine and money. Plus, I would never raise a hand against one of our vets." The boss nodded at Struzick and the elder man visibly deflated with relief.


    Instead, Belvidere just raised a hand and the gathering of lackeys split to make way for one figure. It was a robot, although so heavily modified that it was impossible to determine what its original function was beneath the terms of service violations. Now it was a lumbering beast, an oversized barrel chest supported two heavy industrial arms and two separate pairs of legs had been fused together to make it a sort of awkward centaur. The head was little more than a mishmash of cameras and sensor with a mining helmet welded on top so it didn''t have a face to emote, but you always got the feeling that it was glaring at you.


    "Don''t forget that I have toys of my own, Sophia. Drillbot!" Nothing happened, and Belvidere pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can''t believe you all kept that stupid name. Drillbert!" Now the robot snapped to attention, drawing itself to a head taller than anyone in either crowd. "Tear their little robot to pieces."


    Everyone froze, including the robot in question, and Belvidere glared at his employees in a way that said without words how annoyed he was about losing the big dramatic moment. One of the lackeys stepped forward and cleared his throat, speaking with slow and exaggerated pronunciation, "Ah, Drillbert, mine the internal components out of that robot." Without missing a beat the mining robot responded, both of its hands folding into themselves to form pointed cones that started to spin until they were just blurs pointed right at the bartender.


    The initial delay is the only thing that saved Tapper from being obliterated right there and then. Most of the witnesses were still frozen with shock, but by the time Drillbert started to lumber forward the young proprietors had managed to shake themselves awake. Ricky and Phanya both came charging out of their hiding place to full-force tackle Drillbert, and even though the two humans together didn''t outweigh the machine they still had the advantage of leverage. Drillbert was very top-heavy and its mismatched legs had an awkward gait, so when the two grabbed different feet and heaved they were just barely able to topple the mining automaton.


    The loud crash as it fell finally spurred everyone else into motion. Miners moved to grab the kids and Fableton reps rushed to stop the miners, leading to an awkward tangle as everyone also tried to avoid the spinning drill hands that were randomly tearing gauges into the floor. Everything was clashing noise and flailing limbs and confusion, until one voice finally broke through:


    "Tapper, run! Just get away from Drillbert, that''s an order!"


    [New Quest: What''s Mine Isn''t Mined


    Escape from the mining bot]