Chapter 4: Susie
Skill: Enhanced Looting (Level 1) [User may touch a deceased life form (or portion of said life form) or unlocked storage space (to include clothing items and private magical storage spaces attached to deceased life forms) to activate this looting ability. Items looted by this ability are added directly to the user’s inventory (if applicable) or will appear in a temporary chest in their vicinity.]
Logan looked on from a removed corner of the pocket dimension, a huge sphere of empty space, as massive, glistening dark violet tentacles moved inevitably towards the central suspended dais. Time skipped forwards and he saw himself wrapped in a tentacle’s grip, unconscious, his body pale and limp.
He had no feeling in the strange, trancelike out of body experience, but he was sure his body below was being crushed to death, ribs cracking under the pressure of the tentacle’s titanic grip.
Suddenly the scene vanished, and he was outside of the sphere now, floating alone in space, the splendor of the tremendous starscape laid out before him. The beauty of it awed him, and he floated there dumbfounded, a speck of dust in an endless sea of lights, shining in every color.
With a jolt, he realized how infinitesimally small he was, how utterly powerless, a rowboat in the open sea, a tiny mote of life existing at the whim of forces beyond his comprehension, easily extinguished by the faintest breeze.
The stars darkened, as if a shroud had been pulled over them. An overwhelming presence, felt but unseen, filled all of space. It was overbearing, commanding, tyrannical; it refused to be overshadowed by the stars, and so denied them their radiance.
Logan felt exposed in a way he had never experience before, vulnerable, like a lit candle in the eye of a hurricane, waiting for the inevitable end.
His continued life depended on the generosity of this… something, this other being that pervaded over all, that dominated existence itself. It laughed, a base rumbling that reverberated in his being. It wasn’t a human sound, but the intent was unmistakable. It laughed at his insignificance, his helplessness.
The universe around him, once expansive and bright, vibrant, and full of life, was now a smothering darkness that closed in around him, suffocating him, threatening to crush him to death. The overpowering laughter continued, mocking him as he was buried alive. The world closed in, his vision reduced to a single point of blackness, then nothing.
Logan awoke, panting, the image lingering in his mind.
“Mikey,” he thought, desperate for reassurance, for any connection, any sense of safety.
"Hey there buck-o! What's up? You look a bit pale; you didn't turn into a vampire or something while you were asleep, did you?" Mikey replied, his voice clear, piercing through the haze in Logan's mind.
After a moment, Mikey sensed his bodily companion's mood, Logan's unease seeping through the thin mental membrane that connected them.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone switching from playful mockery to pensive concern.
“Yeah, I think so. Just a nightmare. Could you see it?” Logan said.
"No… but I can feel it. Your soul’s transition from death to the afterlife was interrupted. That’s not supposed to happen; in fact, I've never even heard of it happening. This isn't something I was trained to deal with, I'm sorry mate." Mikey said.
Mate?
“Don't be sorry. You came with me to help me, right? That’s more than I could ask of anyone. I guess you don't have much of a choice now, but thanks for being here."
Mikey didn’t respond, remaining silent as Logan recovered from the nightmare, slowly regaining his sense of agency after the dissociative experience of the dream.
He sat up in bed and discovered a roll of beige cloth and a bowl of stew on the table next to the bed. The stew's aroma intoxicated him, and he noticed for the first time since waking up how hungry he was.
He hadn't eaten since, when? Mikey's pocket dimension? He remembered eating something... Cheetos, and something else. What was it?
He focused on the memory, concentrating on it; the dais, glossy and perfectly flat, the absurd tie-dye beanbags, Mikey's ridiculous form—.
His mind blanked, as if he'd run headfirst into an invisible wall, and he sat staring dumbly at the air in front of him. He blinked several times, returning to himself.
The stew sat forgotten on the table beside the roll of cloth.
On the foot of the bed were a pair of rough looking pants, a long-sleeved linen shirt, and a pair of simple boots that looked like they’d cause more damage to his feet than their protection was worth. He mentally thanked Huck for them anyways.
He noticed a bowl of stew on the table next to him, its aroma drifting towards his nostrils, savory scents of spices and steamed vegetables causing him to salivate. He was starving, he realized, and began to scarf down the stew while giving the cloth roll a cursory inspection.
| Simple Cloth Bandages: Consumable |
The words appeared next to the bandage and sounded in his head, the same muted, monotone voice that read the loot from the steam fish.
Bandages huh? Useful.
Again, he sent silent thanks to Huck.
He turned his attention to the bowl of steaming soup in his hands.
| Huck’s Vegetable Stew: Consumable: slow recovery over time. |
Recovery over time.
He wondered if this was different than simply healing as a result of rest and normal bodily function.
"Mikey, do you know wha-"
He was cut off by the appearance of a text box.
|
Recovery over time. Healing. This is an additional healing effect. Recovery over time can result from The duration and intensity of the effect can be viewed in the item or spell’s description.
|
The voice droned on and on in his head, monotonous and robotic. Though dull, it was far more convenient than reading the block of text that’d appeared in front of his eyes.
As he began to wonder if there was a way that he could adjust the volume, and maybe even the accent of the voice, it informed him that menu settings could be modified under the “Settings” tab of his menu.
It's reactive! Great, he thought, now there are two voices in my head.
Clueless as he was about his new surroundings though, he couldn’t help but be grateful for any source of information, no matter how intrusively it was integrated with his thoughts.
Logan set the bowl on the table, he'd already drained its contents, and took the roll of cloth to his hands. He’d never learned how to properly apply a bandage before, but he did the best he could with the wraps Huck had left for him. He tied them around his forearms and legs, not realizing until he did so the extent of his injuries: none of them were serious, just scrapes, cuts, and bruises, but they were plentiful and stung incessantly, distracting him.
| You have gained the skill: Field Medic. Field medic has increased from level zero to level one. |
The voice told him that the field medic skill gave him knowledge and proficiency with basic wound treatment and care, he’d be able to identify simple injuries and intuitively know how to treat them.
He had gained the skill from performing the action, the addition of the skill adding on to knowledge and ability that he'd discovered and developed for himself. It felt intuitive, and he felt like he would get the hang of it quickly enough.
Logan looked out of the window at the end of the room and saw that it was nighttime, the darkness illuminated by a multitude of unfamiliar stars.
He decided that he’d try to figure out more about his menu and the “powers” that Mikey had mentioned, then try to fall back asleep.
He thought about opening his inventory, and a window appeared in front of him, taking the appearance of a large grid of small grey boxes. The things occupying the few boxes that were filled displayed little image icons, miniature depictions of the real-world items they represented.
He knew intuitively what they each were, but if he directed his attention to any one of them, a detailed description would be displayed. Items of which he had multiples, like the chainmail scraps and the scales, had a small “x” with a number, indicating how many were in a stack.
Additionally, there were multiple symbols in the top right corner of the window, four of which were stylized as small grey circles, which he recognized as currency counters.
There was a 100 next to the bronze icon and a 200 next to the silver. He figured gold came next, but what was after? Diamond? Platinum? He wasn’t sure.
Well, that’s awfully convenient. I feel like I’ll fill this up in no time though, even if items can stack. If this is anything like the games I played back home, inventory management will be essential until I can get a vault or something.
He noticed more tabs: pages with titles like Wardrobe, Pantry, Armory, and more each had their own inventory slots, allowing him to store more than he’d realized.
It comes with its own organizing feature!
He wondered if anyone else had an inventory ability. From Huck’s reaction to his looting ability, he guessed that it was pretty novel, in this village at least.
Above the grid was a 3D rendition of himself with more grey boxes next to it. Icons displaying symbols for clothing items as well as jewelry and weapons lines his avatar, and he found that by concentrating on the little floating version of himself he could spin it around, zoom in and out, and even undress himself.
When he removed the dirty, plain white T-shirt from the figure in the panel, it disappeared off of his actual body too, and he found that it now occupied one of the previously empty slots in his wardrobe’s inventory. Amazed, he picked up the linen shirt off of the bed and held it in front of him.
He could sense that he could either add it to his inventory or put it on directly. Realizing that he’d never actually put anything into his inventory yet, he tried that. It vanished from his hands and a notification appeared at the corner of his vision.
| Simple Linen Shirt has been added to your inventory. |
It worked!
He hadn’t expected it not to, but seeing the shirt disappear in front of his eyes was something that he couldn’t have prepared himself for. The steam fish’s disappearance had felt involuntary, but this was something he'd intended to do, and it felt amazing. He felt in control, capable. Putting the shirt into his inventory was a tiny, insignificant action he realized, but to him it felt empowering.
He removed the shirt from his inventory, and it materialized in an instant in his outstretched hand. This time, he tried putting the shirt on. He concentrated on it and envisioned the empty shirt icon next to his character depiction. The shirt vanished from his hand, reappearing on his body. He let out a short laugh, a broad, stupid grin splitting his face.
He took the shirt off again with the inventory ability and put it back on. He experimented and found that he could do this while his inventory was closed, too.
"You're a bonafide magician now! What do they call that on Earth? Slight of hand? Does that make you a speed dresser, then? No, a cross dresser! That's right, you're a cross dresser, Logan!" Mikey said enthusiastically.
Logan's face reddened as he smoldered with frustration. He wished Mikey had a physical body to glare at, but instead he just put his clothes back on and tried to ignore his jibes.
"I'm not a crossdresser," he said, as he replaced his white shorts with the pants from the bed and donned the boots using the same method.
He found that the boots automatically tied themselves and the pants were already buttoned.
This is seriously convenient, he thought.
"How did you come up with this? You said you liked video games, right?" Logan asked.
"Minecraft, Skyrim, Rust, New World, I kinda just through them all together in my head and this is what we got. This is my first time actually seeing it in person... I like it!"
"Huh, I like that. Can I encumbrance stomp monsters?"
"Encumbrance what?" Mikey asked, confused.
"Come on dude. You're telling me you've had access to our video games for god knows how long and you've never been encumbrance stomped? Lucky you, I guess. Anyways, how big is the inventory? Does it expand?" Logan asked, ideas generating rapidly in his head.
"I will find out what that means... but I don't know if it expands or not. I gave you my power on a whim since I couldn't give you the afterlife that I was supposed to. Even I don’t really know what I did, but what I do know is that if my boss ever finds out about this, he’ll kill me. Human souls can’t wield cosmic being’s powers, so for them to take effect I had to merge with you. I guess that means I quit on my first day! I don't know about human decorum, but for celestials that's bad form," Mikey said with a nervous chuckle.
"It seems like you’re in control now, though, and I’m just along for the show. I guess that’s what I get for making split second decisions and trying to save you, my first soul," he finished.
If Mikey had had a body of his own, Logan could sense that he’d have received a playful elbow to the ribs from the celestial.
"If you want to figure out how your abilities work, we need to experiment. Susie at least can answer some of your questions though; you’ve already figured that much out." Mikey said.
“Susie?” Logan asked, confused.
He looked around the room, but he was definitely alone.
“I am Susie, the help function for your Menu system, it’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mr. Dileva,” the robotic voice sounded in his head.
“Ah,” Logan said in his mind, understanding dawning.
“I’m really going insane. I’m actually, clinically, insane.”
“You’ll find that I’m quite helpful, sir, unlike a certain parasitic cosmic being claiming to be your guide, I assure you that I’m extraordinarily useful,” Susie said, a lofty air to her mechanical tone.
Logan rubbed his chin. He hadn’t realized that Susie was intelligent; he’d assumed she was just a narrator for the text boxes, but she might prove to be an invaluable asset.
“Right. And you can hear my thoughts too?” he asked.
“Those that you direct at me, yes.” She said, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone.
“You can communicate directly with the freeloader, with the two of us, or directly with me. Until now, you’ve been speaking to the both of us. You’ll find addressing me more natural, as I am bound to your soul inextricably, where Mikey is simply attached, like an unsavory barnacle,” she said, disdain evident in her voice.
“Mikey’s not a parasite or a barnacle, he’s a friend. An annoying, immature friend that makes bad jokes, but a friend nonetheless” he said, amused by the venom in her tone.
The thought was only perceptible to her. Now that he was aware of it, he could easily choose to whom his thoughts were directed.
| Focus: +1 |
The notification appeared in the corner of his vision and quickly faded.
He mentally raised an eyebrow at Susie, who told him he could view his status through his menu ability, which he decided to look at later. He was content with what he’d discovered so far, and though the excitement of dressing and undressing himself using nothing but his mind had spiked his dopamine, he felt the fatigue of the day’s events and the weariness of interrupted sleep.
Stripping to a pair of plain, surprisingly comfortable boxers that he’d found under the pants, he tucked himself under the blankets for the first time, reveling in their lustrous softness and the cool air pocket between the mattress and the covers.
He lay his head down on a pillow and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, the first time in as long as he could remember, he was excited for the coming day. He had mostly forgotten about the nightmare that’d woke him, and patiently waited for what he hoped would be a peaceful night’s rest.
Amogus