Chapter 167: 167: It’s Called the Parietal Lobe

Carl Daley was once again sitting at his Admin desk, designing a sexy lady with his spork and a dollop of mashed potatoes.

Ten year doctorate in System Engineering, a host of Skills taken to advance my career, and I turn out to be as useless as a screen-door on a space-ship.

Even the benefit of being functionally immortal was largely pointless, as an Administrator was disconnected from the coming and going of the real world, stuck in their tiny satelites orbiting planets that didn’t even know they existed.

As always, the System kept everything in perfect balance. There hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, ever. The man he’d replaced hadn’t even had to do a single thing in eight hundred years, so Carl was understandably confused when his monitor threw up a big red alert.

For the third time in the last five years.

Relative to the last guy, this is an extremely busy decade, Carl thought, wiping his sexy potatoes off the desk and into the trash and taking stock of what he was looking at.

It wasn’t the emergency alert about the Siphon in the desert again, this time it was actually the Incoming Call signal.

That’s weird. Carl hit the Accept button.

“This is System Admin Carl Daley, ID Mx-0013FA9, to whom am I speaking?” Carl asked, just like he’d been trained. Anyone who had the ability to call him directly through the System had a lot of pull.

“This is Llortan. I need you to relay a message interstellar. Copy?”

The hair-raising voice of a Harbinger came through the speakers, and Carl straightened reflexively. Big fish on the line. Just do your job.

“Copy, recording for transmission.” Carl said, hitting the button.

I grew up a Diocese, now I’m a glorified switchboard operator. Carl thought, rolling his eyes. Interstellar FTL communication was a tricky thing, and it required a special compression before it could be sent out, requiring a technician to perform the compression and decompression on each end that was almost as much art as science.

AIs were capable of it, but they were also highly illegal under Harbinger law.

“This is Llortan, urgently requesting the presence Z-quadrant inner fleet admiral Vashniel. There’s a situation here and it requires his immediate attention.”

Carl waited to make sure there was nothing more to the message.

“Understood. For that amount of data, expect a response within four years.” Carl said, as he began encoding the message, collapsing it down to the absolute smallest possible size, inscribing it on a single molecule, so he could send it through a micro-wormhole.

An entire library of information could be distilled down to a droplet of condensation in the wormhole generator, but each molecule took an incredible amount of energy to shove through the artificial wormhole, and the size also caused drag in the wormhole, slowing the arrival.

“Wait. Change the message. I need it faster.”

Carl sighed, but not loud enough for the Harbinger to hear it.

“Scrubbing the previous message. Give me your message.”

“Grethna’s here.”

Carl waited. “That it?”

“It’ll get the same reaction,” Llortan said.                     

“Alright,” Carl said with a shrug. “Expect a response in a year.”

“Better,” the Harbinger said, disconnecting a moment later,

Carl was finishing up the condensing and spinning up the wormhole generator when he heard a rapid clomp of foot against steel grate, then felt a hand on his shoulder, nearly startling him out of his seat.

“Bwah! What the he” – Carl’s Harbinger boss loomed over him, breathing heavily – “ck can I do for you?” Carl said, managing his expression carefully.

“Scrub that message.” the Harbinger said. “Forget about it.”

“What, but it-“

“Do as you’re told.”

“But I –“ Carl’s entire body ground to a halt, paralyzed by indecision. He literally had Skills making it more difficult for him to breach protocol, and protocol dictated that he send the message. He also had a Skill that encouraged obedience towards Harbingers, which was conflicting with the other.

It felt like every nerve in his body was at war with the other, tensing all the muscles painfully in his body, causing a full body cramp. Each muscle was painfully tearing itself apart as he struggled to resolve the conflict.

While Carl was struggling, the Harbinger simply leaned over him and wiped the message with a flick of his wrist, spinning the wormhole generator down.

“Better?” the Harbinger asked with something approaching concern, it’s head tilted, green eyes boring into his own.

“Um…” Carl raised a shaking hand and rubbed his aching shoulders, the cramp slowly wearing off. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. If you get any more messages from the surface of Marconen, forward them to me immediately. Understood?”

“Ah, Yessir,” Carl gave an awkward salute from his seat.

“Good work as always.” His boss said, before turning and leaving.

Carl sagged back into his seat, giving a long exhale as the tension drained out of him.

He was caught right in the middle of some kind of Harbinger power-play, and that was an untenable situation.

I need to get the hell out of here…Except I’m locked in for the next fifty years. Damnit.

***Calvin***

“No princesses? Seriously?” Calvin asked aloud, ignoring the passerby glancing at him curiously.

They give any female children away the moment they’re born. They might theoretically be out there, but so far, it looks like it’s a pointless endeavor. Kurawe’s voice came through Calvin’s head.

Maybe I can look through orphanages or just kidnap the entire city.

I doubt it. The very act of giving them up disqualifies them from counting on your mutation. Elliot chimed in.

It’s so arbitrary! Calvin thought with a scowl.

“I hate this city already.”

On the other hand, how are negotiations going?

Oh, pretty typical. They’re trying to get everything they can out of the trade route. They started the negotiation demanding a ridiculous amount of down payment, taxes, and control over the route itself, effectively neutering us while refusing to help build it. I’m currently bringing the price down through a combination of vague threats and promises of rich rewards for the upper class. All normal stuff.

…Okay… Calvin thought it didn’t sound like normal stuff, but who was he to judge. Every time he threatened people they tried to kill him or became impossible to control. But Kurawe could nudge people in the right direction like a chess player nudges his pieces.

What the Abyss am I missing?

Restraint. Your threats are always too specific, and too extreme. Nadia’s thoughts brushed against his.

You’re one to talk, Calvin thought, rolling his eyes. Now stop distracting me or I’ll attach your lips to a Stalker’s nutsack for the rest of the day.

That right there.

It was supposed to be a joke given the context of your previous statement, damnit. Calvin thought. Can’t you tell when I’m joking?

It’s tough when it’s something you could actually do.

Calvin rolled his eyes with a grunt.

“Something wrong?” Kala asked. She and Ella were browsing through the open market, with the princess acting as the translator, using the Ilethan trade tongue. They had a bag of copper coins that they brought along for the express purpose of sampling Juntai wares. They were currently going through the decorative steel and jewelry.

There were myriad conveniences, from blenders to heating devices, but they all required a Juntai’s Abilities with copper to activate them, so the pair were only able to appreciate a fraction of Juntai goods.

“Actually it’s all going well, but this country irritates me,” Calvin replied with a shrug.

“Will that be all?” The merchant said, looking directly past the two girls standing in front of him with money in their hands, at Calvin, who was easily four feet further away and totally uninterested in jewelry with neat color-shifting properties.

“See what I mean?” Calvin asked, pointing at the man.

Kala gave a small sigh and smiled before turning back to the merchant.

“He can’t speak the trade tongue, and yes, he says that will be all.” Kala said. The merchant smiled and money changed hands, and Ella got a spiffy necklace made of tempered steel that looked blue-purple-pink.

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“You don’t have to like these people’s culture to trade with them.” Kala reminded him.

“True. Calvin said, glancing around, trying to weigh up what would be valuable in other countries, and what Amenities they lacked here in Juntai.

Sassy ladies, is the amenity they lack here in Juntai. Calvin thought sourly.

“I’m going to do some recon,” Calvin said, “Are you two good here?”

“Of course.” Kala tapped Ella’s elbow, which was close to her shoulder. “I don’t think anyone’s going to give her any trouble.”

“Are you sure? I could find a man to chaperone you. Maybe Goob?”

“Get out of here, twat.” Ella said, shaking her head.

Calvin left them to their own devices, scouring the city for a place where young men congregated. Calvin finally found a sports arena where young men were watching other young men beat a heavy ball back and forth to each other with their elbows and knees, trying to make goals on hoops set up on opposite sides of the court.

The players and the audience were the ideal blend.

Calvin ducked into an alley abutting the arena and triggered One of the Guys, his bones creaking, skin tingling as the coloring changed. Ten seconds later, an entirely different man stood where Calvin had once been.

Calvin slipped out of his clothes, switching into a traditional Juntai outfit, along with some copper below average bracers and pair of earrings pinched onto his earlobes.

Disguise complete, Calvin thought, shoving his clothes bag into a corner of the alley. Now to see what this city has to offer a native.

Can I come too? Nadia asked.

No. You’re obviously a foreigner. You would draw way too much attention to me.

I don’t have to be with you. I can explore on my own and nobody will know where I came from. Nadia pleaded.

Nope.

If you don’t let me explore and blow off some steam, I might go crazy and sing show-tunes in your head for hours.

Calvin weighed his choices.

Fine, just don’t interact with me or anyone you know, understood?

Yay! You see? That’s how you threaten someone.

Right, right. Calvin thought, Visualizing Nadia, every major organ laid out in exquisite detail.

Wait, what are you doing?

No time like the present to get some practice in, Calvin thought, zooming in on the brain.

Adding in the Lure sense organ is going to be tricky, but…Calvin thought as he tried to arrange the Lure’s focusing crystal and desire-sensing membrane somewhere it wouldn’t turn Nadia into a drooling vegetable.

How about you shrink them down until they’re pin-sized and create a coating of them right here? Elliot suggested, making a particular upper slice of Nadia’s brain brighten and flash.

Why? Nadia asked.

Why? Calvin echoed her.

Trust me, It’ll be funny.

Wait, that’s -

Good enough for me, Calvin thought, mentally inserting the miniaturized Lure sensory organs into Nadia’s brain and casting the spell.

Chained Spirit

Chimera

39/46 Bent remaining.

Nadia burst out of the green smoke emenating from Calvin’s hand, stumbling forward, holding her head and frowning. A second later, she took her hands away, still frowning.

“I don’t feel anything.”

Calvin shrugged.

“Well, it’s not always going to be a rousing success. It took a bunch of tries to get the Refraction spinner channels to behave the way we wanted. Go explore and tell me if anything happens.”

Nadia nodded and the two of them went their separate ways.

Calvin spent the next half an hour casing the city, studying things like their water systems and toiletry, talking with strangers about politics, estimating their wood output, and basically angling to use the insider information to maximize the benefit he would receive once they started trading between the nations he intended to connect.

Juntai had a lot of wood. More than Uleis would ever need, for certain. Juntai’s wood exports could increase by several orders of magnitude, but would that devalue the wood, defeating the purpose?

He was considering the price of wood and demand for the material in Uleis and Iletha when he heard someone running behind him.

Calvin glanced over his shoulder and spotted Nadia. The princess grabbed him by the arm and attempted to drag him into a nearby alley, but Calvin stood his ground, watching her curiously.

The girl was deeply flushed, her breathing heavy, twitching nervously here and there as people glanced at her curiously.

“People won’t stop touching me.” She whispered, staring straight into Calvin’s eyes, her whites bloodshot.

“At first it was fun, literally feeling men undress me with their eyes, but there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing!” She said eyes wide. “I can feel their every lustful thought being enacted on my entire body, and it’s maddening!”

“Good job,” Calvin said, patting her hand.

Nadia groaned and melted into a puddle on the street right then and there, panting desperately and staring at the sky.

I told you it would be funny.

I think I’m gonna go somewhere else, Calvin thought, stepping away from the shivering mess in the dirt and moving on with his reconnaissance. I wanna go see how their loggers do their jobs. Calvin thought, heading off to the south.

Unsummon me! Nadia’s thoughts brushed against his, wobbly with desire. I can’t….her thoughts fuzzed out for a moment. I can’t stay sane like this! I, oh gods, that’s not where you’re supposed to nngngg –

Calvin manually closed the channel to Nadia’s thoughts, preventing her from contacting him again.

She’s the one who wanted to be a succubus. Calvin had every confidence that Nadia would overcome this particular hurdle, and if she couldn’t…well, at this point in their relationship, the princess was more valuable as a test subject than anything else.

So what part of the brain was that? Calvin thought. As he approached the lumber yards on the south end of the city.

The one that processes touch, Elliot replied.

So she’s processing other people’s desires as tactile input?

Basically.

Calvin chuckled as he walked down the street. You’re right, that is funny. But seriously, don’t mention any of this to Kala. I really don’t want her ‘volunteering’ to be a Chained Spirit for stupid reasons.

You think that would be a problem? Seems like a stretch to commit suicide so she could be ‘Enhanced’ by you.

Stranger things have happened. I don’t even want the thought to even cross her mind. It could introduce a moment of hesitation if she thought she would have a free pass to living again.

My lips are sealed.

At the lumber yard, Calvin was unsurprised to see men using their copper bands to power handheld steel axes with teeth that spun in place, gnawing through wood in seconds.

There were larger ones wielded by obvious veterans, and smaller ones for de-limbing trees. All in all, they were very efficient at cutting trees, fastidiously replacing them with new growth as they went while teams of guar hauled the stumps out of the ground.

Calvin struck up a conversation with the foreman under the guise of looking for a job, directing the conversation towards the number of logging outfits in Juntai and how much wood they could output.

He then fed this information back to Kurawe in real-time, who used it to pierce the veil of secrecy that the Juntai negotiators were attempting to cast over their supply of lumber. The opponents were taken aback by Kurawe’s ability to accurately gauge their production, and the oversized dictator used that to push the advantage, securing a sweetheart deal by dropping the price of lumber to more reasonable rates after the first twelve months of trading.

The first twelve months would be a year, but the amount of time after that was potentially infinite.

Macronomicon

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