“Why did it have to be him,” Raine Heimdall grumbled.
“In a way it makes sense,” Cato replied, watching as the digital version of Marus familiarized himself with the Elysium. Normally such aestivations were more private, but most of the people he was going to be putting into them would need some oversight given their lack of grounding in the appropriate technology and culture. “Kind of a coward, has seen what I can do, and getting dumped on by everyone else. At least it’s a good demonstration that even he is welcome to leave the System behind.”
Given the history they all shared, Cato knew that taking in Marus was not bound to make any version of Raine and Leese particularly happy, but it was necessary. Fortunately, their dislike was more abstract than visceral, a secondhand emotion, though even if they’d been more upset he would have still taken Marus in. If he wanted to have a chance of enticing everyone possible away from the System, even the worst monsters needed the option of leaving. Which wasn’t to say he’d let them all go free.
Marus was loaded into what Cato had privately labeled Alcatraz because the servers were locked down — completely unlike the servers he shared with Raine, Leese, Yannis and the digital version of Mii-Es. People living there could modify their own local realities, but only in a limited way, and certainly couldn’t transmit out. The permissions, virtualization, airgapping, and sanitization had all been inherited from an actual high-security digital prison called Meyashikuh, which had a fairly dark history and had been destroyed by persons unknown via redirected mass driver after less than a year of operation. Yet, all the design work had been done and so it was just a matter of reproducing it.
In a way it was a shame, because he really could use help dealing with the massive logistical issues of fixing up worlds after they were pulled out of the System. Yet, he certainly couldn’t trust Marus and, even if he could, it wasn’t clear that Marus was actually competent. If Cato had to guess, Marus was moderately capable at best. Judging from the debriefing, it was obvious the other gods hadn’t been particularly impressed.
“Maybe so, but it still feels weird that we’re giving these System Deities just, everything they’ve ever wanted.” Raine flicked her tail back and forth, staring at a content-looking Marus who was acquainting himself with a re-creation of his normal office-world.
“Then again, it is just a sim,” Leese added, standing next to Raine in the virtual control room and frowning at the image of Marus. “It’s not like he’s going to ever do anything real again. Which is a little sad to think about.”
“I’m sure not sad,” Raine snorted.
“I just wish we’d gotten more out of him,” Cato said, turning away from the display. Debriefing Marus hadn’t given them much more insight than what Mii-Es and Initik could supply — and they’d actually sat in on the interrogation. If anything, Marus’ knowledge of which gods were making what moves within the Nine Great Clans was more useful to them than it was to Cato. They were the ones in a position to apply political pressure — though how long that would last was anyone’s guess. Most of the independents in Mii-Es’ faction would soon be severed from the System, and that left Cato’s allies without a power base.
Marus’ Interface had been a little more useful, though sadly it had no more idea of how faster-than-light travel and portals worked than anyone else. Amusingly, it had not particularly liked Marus – insofar as a non-biological intelligence liked or disliked things – and had eventually settled into the simulation servers. If nothing else, it’d help with figuring out exactly how much essence was being spent by the other side on defense, and when Cato’s campaign might be running up against the limits of what the other side was willing to invest.
“Well, he’s less important than those comms devices,” Raine said, dismissing Marus with a wave and shutting off the feed. “Although I can’t imagine more than a few gods are actually going to call on them.”
“What I want to know is if Misse will call on one,” Cato mused. “Sounds like she’s the one I need to talk to.”
“Maybe, but from what Marus said I can’t see her listening.” Leese shook her head. “She has a lot more to lose than any Alum.”
So far, Cato didn’t have any Alums in Heimdall, but it was only a matter of time. Admittedly, the Sydean Lineage getting caught by Goyle had been suboptimal at best, but there had to be a first Alum at some point. It was fantastic luck that said Alum was cooperative — maybe. Considering what he’d found about the immortality-ready alterations the System performed, it might well be that the very drive the System instilled would make them easy to recruit.
Those who were combat focused could be offered an endless dungeon crawl with far more weapons, magic, and enemy options. Sensory and exploration cornerstones would be taken by the endless variety of virtual worlds and base reality, while defensive cornerstones would have plenty of citizens to take care of, both digital and corporeal. The only ones that might be a problem were those with a divine cornerstone, and they tended to go into godhood anyway.
What he did have in Heimdall was a lot of refugees from various planets. A few of the independent gods had actually been happy to shed their role and take up some other mantle, whether it was the purely digital realm of aestivations and Elysiums, or a well-furnished frame on one of the big orbitals that were being constructed around the various gas giants. Some Bismuths from various worlds were scattered over the same options, as well as a few populations that had been mass-digitized and had no planet to return to. Many populations were further segregated by species, due to differences in basic biology no longer being suppressed by the System.
Cato-Tornok, for example, and the rest of the survivors of the Fern War had set themselves up on a series of smaller habitats, with the various Lineages mingling in with the Sydean enclaves established there. It was a bizarre situation for all the various Catos, as normally they would just reconcile between themselves, but the temporal disjunction was too much for that. Not to mention the bulk of them were still dealing with seeing millions of people wiped out while being unable to do anything about it, and that wasn’t the kind of experience that anyone wanted to compound.
For the most part he and his various versions were planning to let communities police themselves, but there were some exceptions. For example, inter-habitat warfare was strictly off the table. Of course he wasn’t going to just give most of those communities full access to the suite of potential weapons possible with his technology, but any dolt could redirect comms lasers or mass drivers. It really didn’t take much imagination to turn any high-powered industrial device into something truly deadly, and it would be rank stupidity to hand that kind of power to people fresh out of a civilization that required fighting to live.
He didn’t like treating people like children, and well knew how much that could backfire. It was exactly that kind of restrictions that had driven Kiersten and Morvan to Earth’s surface to begin with, and sown much of the hate they had for digital life in general. In fact, that was probably one reason they had so taken to the System, which certainly didn’t hold back. But at the same time, he needed to be satisfied there was enough community self-policing to avoid random people dropping nukes or railgun rounds on inhabited areas.
What he had so far was just the bare bones, though, and it was far too early to start making plans about what the ultimate structure of Heimdall would be. There were still hundreds of thousands of worlds to close, and some unknown number of Azoths and Alums in the Core to entice out. Millions, perhaps billions of people could wind up in Heimdall before the System was closed completely.
If he was lucky, Cato might even import gods.
***
“How’s your leveling going?”
Raine Talis blinked at Cato’s voice, which was unexpected while she was actually on a war-world — but then, FungusNet didn’t require his presence out in the black, it just needed some of the plants, and they had a few potted ones in the guild house. Even so, this was the first time that he’d contacted them while in the Core itself, so it took her a moment to adjust. Fortunately after over a decade with the guild, she’d found that the guildhouse for Punchy Bastards was rarely populated, and nobody would notice or care about her twitch.
“Just hit High Azoth,” she returned, setting down her drink and leaning back into the cushions of the lounge by the bar. At Lorraine’s urging both she and Leese took time out between hunting dungeons or world elites, which turned out to vastly improve their rate of advancement. They were far ahead of their original pace, partly due to teaming up with Lorraine and partly due to improvement in their abilities and general approach. “We’ve been busy.”
In fact, the two of them were advancing at an absolutely monstrous rate the past few years. Cato kept upgrading and tweaking the combat brains, and combined with the perfect cooperation between her and Leese, plus Lorraine’s savant genius, they were able to take on Alum rank monsters. Which was nearly unheard of as the gap between Azoth and Alum meant it normally took multiple groups of Azoths to deal with Alum monsters, and so it was the primary reason for their rapid advancement. Of course, they still didn’t have a chance against Alum-rank people, like the top members of Punchy Bastards, which was why being cornered by Goyle had been such a shock.
While the combat brains had showed their usefulness before, being able to purge the sheer panic of being found out by someone of that degree of power was one of the best things she’d experienced. It stabilized them and prevented all the extraneous problems from impacting their ability to focus. It had also helped with the gnawing worry after Goyle had gone off to talk to Cato, that the Alum would inform everyone about them and force the pair back into hiding or worse. The story of the Urivan Lineage being kept in stasis for years was absolutely horrifying.
“Is there any way I can help you get to Alum faster? Goyle is only so interested in helping, and he’d rather just ditch the System. Which is gratifying to hear, but does little to contribute to the long-term goals.”
Raine glanced at Leese, the two of them sharing a burst of thoughts, half-formed concepts that collaborated into an actual answer. While there was little direct help Cato could give them, not least because he didn’t have any true presence on the Core, information was always helpful. Whether it was the combat brains or surveillance, something that helped them optimize their time was the best Cato could provide.
“We need leads on more Feats of Glory,” Leese replied. “And I think the combat brains could use more handling of raw essence structures. We’re starting to see direct essence manipulation at Alum, rather than just Skills. If we could understand those before the effect came together…”
“I’ve got some gods I can interrogate for the former, and for the latter, give me a couple days and I’ll have an update for you,” Cato told them. Raine sent an acknowledgement and the connection closed.
“If we could get Shiel-Ruyu on our side, things would be so much easier,” Leese said across the link. “But he’s even scarier than Goyle.” Raine grunted agreement. Even if there didn’t seem to be any ranks to Alum, it was clear there were still differences. Neither of them had actually seen Shiel-Ruyu in action, but they had hardly needed to. Just his casual control of both body and essence had been enough.
“We’ll have to take a chance sometime,” Raine said reluctantly. “Maybe not yet, but we’ll have to.” It wasn’t something she was looking forward to, but it was also their entire reason for coming to the Core. They weren’t there simply to get stronger, like everyone else, but rather to reach a point where they could offer people in the Core a way out of the System. Cato had given them a rough deadline on that, looming in the future, and even if it wasn’t exact there was still only a limited amount of time for them to work.
“It’s always weird to see you two chat privately,” Lorraine said. She could not only keep up with the Sydeans, despite not having the advantage of combat brains, but her ideas and approaches actively improved theirs. Her frame wasn’t as good as theirs either, though it was far better than any natural-born member of the System. It was just her bizarre set of Skills combined with an unnaturally precise ability to be in exactly the right place with just the right timing that made her a true peer — though Leese still teased Raine it was just the similarity in names that had predisposed them to adopt the human.
“We were just discussing ways to get to Alum faster with our patron,” Leese said, of course not using Cato’s name. “We should be getting some interesting information soon.”
“Oho?” Lorraine sat up, shaking her hair out of her face. Raine never really understood the allure of hair, considering how it got everywhere. Scales were so much better. “See if he can get a line on quests. They always have better rewards than just grinding out mobs. I mean, I definitely want to level cap before we go.”
“Go? So you’re thinking about it?” The human had been somewhat unenthusiastic about the idea of leaving the System, but at the same time had no interest in betraying Raine and Leese.
“Yeah, Cato did a lot to sell it to me. Sounds a lot better than what I thought, you know? Actually doing things instead of sitting around in some weird bodiless mental commune like I used to think digital stuff was back on Earth.” Lorraine waved her hands, less a specific gesture as just an indication she was looking for words. “It almost sounds too good to be true, except for the warnings.”
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“Cato does seem to worry overmuch sometimes,” Leese said, and Lorraine cackled.
“Yeah! So that’s reassuring, but there doesn’t seem to be a point to leaving before I hit max level, you know? Get Alum, then we’ll see. Especially if you two keep feeding me desserts,” Lorraine said, pointing her fingers at them. Leese laughed. Cato had indeed given them a large stock of human-compatible foods, including the original versions of things like ice cream and cheesecake, though none of those appealed to the Sydeans.
“That won’t be a problem,” Raine assured her. While it was in some ways odd to have someone around that wasn’t Leese, it was also nice to have a party member they could rely on. Unlike Cato, who still seemed like a distant god, Lorraine was a very ordinary person.
“Great!” Lorraine said, hopping to her feet. “So, while we’re waiting, might as well hit the auction?”
“Might as well,” Leese agreed, the pair of them rising with ease, even if they didn’t match Lorraine’s bouncy energy. Every time they returned from an outing they had maintenance to take care of anyway. Offloading loot and drops, getting repairs, shopping for upgrades, and other little errands. At High Azoth, they actually didn’t liquidate most of their acquisitions through the ordinary System shops anymore; the War Worlds featured auction houses where the considerably rare and more customized equipment and materials were bought and sold.
It had been a bit of a surprise for them, but made sense in retrospect. Materials had little point prior to the Inner Worlds in general, where people had the luxury to rank up dedicated crafters and outfit them with the resources of guild halls. The zone control which added specialty crafting stations to further empower certain types of materials and crafting added another layer on top of that, so at the higher end almost every piece of equipment had at least been touched by a crafter, if not created from scratch.
Their weapons had already been upgraded once again, and now Raine’s spear could shear through Azoth-rank stone with a casual swipe, not to mention the magical effects. Accelerating her already-extreme reactions, igniting enemy essence directly, multiplying her strength and giving her the ability to copy her weapon within her Domain, meaning she could now throw her spear and not lose it. Leese had similar upgrades, and their armor was next on the list to improve, giving them better protection against hostile Domains.
All of that was progress enough, but it wasn’t as exciting as it might have been, because it wasn’t permanent. They both knew that ultimately it didn’t matter, and that they would leave all their equipment and the System itself behind. Which was an idea that balanced itself between dread and anticipation.
After seeing some of what Cato could do, Raine had no doubt there was plenty out there beyond the System. But it wasn’t the same, and the two of them had been dealing with the System all their lives. Considering that they were supposed to sell the alternative to Alums, having any doubts felt a little bit like betrayal.
“It’s fine,” Leese said to her as the three settled in for the auction, picking up on her mood through the link. They had enough both in terms of reputation and money to reserve their own private booth, on the third floor of the amphitheater of the auction house floor. It kept them anonymous and allowed them to speak aloud without worry — something they did more often than they used to, as Lorraine couldn’t partake in their link. “We know Cato, and he actually welcomes those kinds of questions. Besides, we just need to get them curious enough to get in touch with Cato.”
“You want to get people in touch with Cato?” Lorraine half-asked, used to hearing only fractional conversations by that point, no matter what her complaints were. “Just had a thought. Why don’t you sell some of his propaganda stuff at auction here? The Azoths and Alums here aren’t going to care about the [Crusade]. Otherwise they’d be off elsewhere.”
“That is…” Raine stopped consider it. “Would that work?”
“I think it could,” Leese said thoughtfully. “In fact, this is the best use of our ability to alter identities. Not like we need the money. I’ll go submit it from elsewhere, though — I don’t trust the privacy here that much.” She rose and headed off, her form shifting into a much smaller, four-armed race that Raine couldn’t remember the name of before she left the private booth. While it had been Lorraine’s idea, Leese was far better to actually implement it.
“That was a rather twisty thought,” Raine said, and Lorraine shrugged.
“I used to read a lot of books,” she replied. “Never had to deal with it myself, but there were all kinds of stories about decadent courts and whatnot. This is pretty simple by comparison.”
“Simple, but still not something I would have thought of,” Raine said. Despite being among the absolute elite of the System, they hadn’t really gotten there the usual way. Not through the guilds and factions and power blocks that would require them to learn how to deal with people that way, and of course Sydea hadn’t had anything like the complexity shown in the core. Arene and Onswa had been very careful to keep infighting to a minimum, and she and Leese had only just managed Gold anyway.
By the time Leese returned, the auction had been going for over half an hour, but Raine hadn’t been worried as the connection with Leese had never dropped. Still, Leese murmured an apology as she slid into the box next to Raine, already back in her normal alter-ego disguise.
“Had to take a quick jaunt to the nearest Inner World to get rid of the receipt token,” she explained. “They have to be able to track that.” Raine grunted agreement. Considering what Leese had put on offer, she was sure someone would be trying to track down the seller, and that would be awful hard if the token was no longer even in the System.
They all had to wait until near the end of the auction to see their item go up. They’d offloaded a number of more prosaic materials, and purchased some to upgrade their armor, but the three of them were far more interested in the reaction to their offering. After all, nobody in the System actually had anything directly from Cato — until now.
“This lot is something special,” the auctioneer cried. He was a Bismuth, but empowered by the Auction House he might as well been an Alum. Regardless, he commanded attention from the thousands of booths set into the walls, not to mention the less prestigious pit below. “We have items and materials captured from the mysterious being known as Cato! The House has verified that none of these have any determinable origin; and though it cannot fully confirm the veracity, it is certainly nothing any of us have seen before!”
The auctioneer waved his hand and a score of boxes and containers from the supplies Cato had given them appeared on the table. Most of it was, actually, the leaflets and pamphlets that Cato had provided, but there were also foodstuffs and pieces of art in the special cases Cato used to drop from orbit. Packaged as they were, their alien nature was obvious.
“We will be selling each item individually, and the supplier has offered an additional description beyond what [Appraise] provides in order to give further context to these items. After all, if they are, as claimed, from something beyond the System, it is not surprising that a simple [Appraise] would not yield all its secrets!” Raine judged the auctioneer’s spiel to be only moderately good; he had been far more enthusiastic and in-depth about some growth accessories, but it wasn’t terrible either.
The reaction more than made up for it. Lorraine giggled and Leese smiled as a burst of noise came from the pit, and over half the boxes flashed as the auctioneer started a bid on the first item. Raine just considered the auction house and then shook her head. They were going to need to get more literature from Cato.
***
“Kanpai!”
Kiersten lifted her mug along with everyone else and drank deeply. It was Alum-rank beer, and while she had never been much for beer, it was Alum-ranked which automatically made it good. Those attending the party were essentially all human, and while Kiersten didn’t know what the toast actually meant it was apparently traditional for adventurers to shout at a celebration.
She, Morvan, and Justin were among the ones who had ascended to Alum for that particular celebration, a full raid of eight of them taking on incredibly powerful boss under heavy restriction to put them over the top. After something over sixty years, most of her life, they’d reached the peak of what the System had to offer. It was, she’d heard one wit remark, the start of the real endgame.
“So now that you’re Alum, what do you wanna do,” the person next to her asked. Kiersten had to use [Appraise] to remind herself of the questioner’s name, a neo-human going by Casparel who looked like he’d stepped out of some ancient Chinese romance novel. Unbearably pretty, long black hair, all that. She’d been surprised that type would actually thrive in the System, but perhaps the same could be said for her and Morvan.
“Not sure, actually,” Kiersten admitted. It was one thing to make plans based on rising through the ranks, improving equipment and Skills and honing their abilities to reach the peak. It was another to actually get to that peak, and realize there was an entirely different schema for advancement.
Justin would probably be going for apotheosis; moving into the role of World Deity, however that worked, which was a shame. He’d been integral to their party from the beginning and the three of them worked well together, but if Justin was haring off to go do weird System Deity stuff, she and Morvan would have to team up with some of the other Alums. Which she wasn’t looking forward to all that much, nor did she really feel like learning how to fight all over again using direct essence manipulation. It may have appealed to Morvan, but not to her.
“We’ve only seen a billionth of the War Wolds,” Morvan said from her other side. “There’s tons to do. Dungeons to delve, mountains to climb, cities and outposts to take. It’ll be grand!”
Kiersten joined the cheer that went around the table at that, but in her heart she wasn’t completely certain. She could feel the unquenchable coals of desire, knowing that she would absolutely enjoy doing that. Yet that very feeling was tainted by the suspicion that it was imposed from without, a false thing to keep her happy in a realm that she otherwise might not like at all.
Growing up in a Summer Civilization, and then subsequently in a more conventional digital-friendly one, she was more than aware of some of the methods of keeping people contained. Keeping them supposedly happy, in the soft prisons known as Elysiums. That was exactly the sort of insubstantial unreality that she hated, and she had become less and less convinced the System was much different as she’d progressed toward Alum.
The War-Worlds were real enough, and she could see the Milky Way on the horizon whenever she went outside, lighting up the sky with a massive whorl of stars. That wasn’t the problem. Rather it was how some aspects of the System seemed a little too close to the very prisons she and Morvan were trying to escape, something synthesized solely to keep her busy, rather than her achievements having any real meaning.
Kiersten didn’t raise it with Morvan because her brother had only gotten more aggressive as he’d risen in rank. Not toward her, of course, or even any of the other humans and neo-humans who had gotten into the System proper before the No Fun Allowed War got anywhere. But he’d gotten more and more enthusiastic about combat, about delving dungeons and killing bosses, in a way that was just a touch odd. At the same time, she knew she was just a little bit more inclined toward exploration and finding new things than she should have been.
There was an unending amount of unknown territory in the War Worlds, which were greater and more expansive than anything Earth had ever had to offer, but were also limited. It was fine as far as it went, but there was no noir, no cyberpunk or looter-shooter, nothing like the spread of potential settings that virtual reality or even micro-civilizations offered.
There was just a tiny bit of her that didn’t quite buy what the System was selling.
Not that she’d ever admit that. Everyone at the celebration was more than invested in the System, battle fanatics and power-levelers and optimizers who had put in literally decades of work to get to where they were. Not that she had slacked in any way herself, and being a genuine caster mage was definitely fun, but she wasn’t quite as dedicated to a life of killing monsters as others.
It was a small sour note in what was otherwise a great celebration, with Alum ranked food and drink, in an Estate that had been designed as the perfect tropical getaway. Sun, sand, wind and waves, and even some surfing. At Alum, even those humans who had never partaken in the ancient ritual had no problem staying on their boards.
The following months went as usual; heading deep into the War-Worlds and finding nooks and crannies with interesting monsters or resources, fighting elites and monsters, and delving dungeons. Kiersten enjoyed the process, just as before, but she couldn’t help but feel there was a certain aimlessness to it. Or maybe it was her own doubts, worrying over something that only she cared about.
It was still on her mind when one of the Azoths burst into their Team Fun guild hall, waving something that was utterly alien to the usual System items. A glossy, plastic-laminate sheet, standard letter sized, with words and pictures. She could read it from where she sat, without even turning around, given her senses, and it was very clearly from her cousin. Though not just from her cousin, as while she recognized some of his voice in the text, other parts clearly were not.
“Hey guys, there’s another human around and they’ve got chocolate ice cream!”
The guy waved a large container with his other hand, and a half-dozen people converged on him. Kiersten followed after a moment, but Morvan was there first, plucking the glossy from the Azoth’s hands and scowling at it.
“Where did you get this?” Morvan demanded, shaking it in the Azoth’s face.
“At an auction!” The man scowled at Morvan. “You don’t get any ice cream.”
“Who cares about that?” Morvan rolled his eyes and destroyed the sheet with a snap of his fingers. “Which auction? If Cato’s got agents here we need to find them.”
Kiersten stopped listening, considering what she’d read. It didn’t matter that Morvan had destroyed it, because she’d already memorized the entire thing. The leaflet was blatant about being from Cato, and it was directly aimed at other humans. While she didn’t entirely trust her cousin, she also didn’t think he would lie outright — and the passage about the alterations the System made to their minds matched all too well with her suspicions.
The leaflet had also contained instructions for getting in touch with Cato, which clearly was a bit of a risk but – unless one of the gods was spying on them – not something an Alum really had to worry about. By the time she finished mulling it over, Morvan had gone, but she wouldn’t have told him anyway. While she was entirely skeptical of Cato’s good will, Morvan’s dislike had curdled into actual hatred, and she knew he would refuse to even talk.
Kiersten left the Guild Hall, her movement Skills letting her slip out through the city’s portal, checking her map as she headed for a Hunting World. As an Alum she would have been more than disruptive simply moving through the Inner Worlds and Frontier, so she pulled in her Domain and used it to shield her presence instead. It took only minutes to maneuver through the portal network, and – following the instructions – she skipped to a few dozen miles outside the primary city and drew some human-alphabet letters in the dirt, each one about ten feet tall. Orbital surveillance could have seen something smaller, but it didn’t seem right to be coy.
Shortly after she’d written her name, she sensed a Copper rushing out of the city toward her. As a Hunting World, the surrounding area was Copper as well, but it’d still take time for Cato – as despite wearing the skin of a gorilla-like local, it had to be Cato – to reach her. So she extended her Domain and vaporized all the hostile beasts between him and her before compressing the distance. In moments, he popped out in front of her.
“Kiersten!” her cousin said, the human expression of relief looking quite odd on the nonhuman face. “Are you— did you—”
“I saw one of your flyers.” Kiersten cut him off, not wishing to engage in whatever reconciliation Cato thought was happening. She didn’t really trust him, not after the No Fun Allowed War, but she didn’t hate him the way Morvan did. “The System really alters our minds?” Sёarᴄh the nôvelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
“Yes,” he said, fortunately recognizing her discomfort and adopting a more neutral stance. “The Bismuth transition very definitely creates a permanent incentive and disincentive structure that prevents most of the long-term problems of radical longevity. I don’t know if it’s enough for actual immortality, but judging by the System it’s stable over hundreds of thousands of years at least.”
Kiersten grunted, not entirely sure what to think. She doubted her cousin was saying anything he didn’t believe, but that didn’t mean he was correct. It was hard to doubt him though, especially since she’d harbored suspicious she’d been almost afraid to say aloud, for fear of making them real.
“If you want—” Cato started, but she held up a hand to interrupt him.
“I don’t want to live in an Elysium,” Kiersten said. “I don’t want to live in a digital world, or anywhere that’s just useless. Empty. Spinning my wheels like I’m just a toy in a playpen. I don’t want to be forced to think I’m doing something useful. I want to be in the real world, doing real things. But how can I even know that now?”
“Ah.” For a moment Kierstan thought the meeting would be pointless, given the way Cato reacted, but then he nodded, either to her or himself.
“I think that you shouldn’t be talking to me,” he said. “I know someone who has gone through that exact same worry. Especially since I know you don’t really trust me. Kiersten, I’d like to introduce you to Yaniss.”