Chapter 230: 230: Maniacal Laugh

Learner’s notes: On pride.

Pride is an interesting emotion. I first experienced pride when I took a slug* as a pet.

*Refer log:  Mr. Squishy

Somehow I felt as though my slug were better than all other slugs, even though objectively, the chance of that was very slim.

Owing to that mistaken feeling of accomplishment, I assumed pride to be inherently incorrect, perhaps some variation of the social bonding mechanism.

It actually is, but only when it’s pride in other people/things. The emotion of pride is far more versatile than I thought originally. When it is pride on one’s self and one’s accomplishment, it is expressed rather differently.

In this form it is often paired with confidence, although I haven’t tested whether there’s a causal relationship between the two. Does pride beget confidence, or does the same accomplishment beget both pride and confidence?

There’s evidence that suggests the former may be true, as several young noblemen have approached me with the intention of mating, and while they are confident and prideful, they have very little in the way of accomplishments.

I am grateful to my brain for being able to deal with these overtures in a responsible and delicate manner. My attempt to muddle through a delicate social situation such as that would have doubtlessly drawn the wrong kind of attention.

Addendum: Those young men did not have pride in themselves, they had pride in their family and house, landing them firmly in the category of ‘external’ pride.

The search for internal pride continues. It seems to be most commonly found among craftsmen, in a kind strange of balancing act between pride, accomplishment and respect.

Master craftsmen have a great deal of pride in their accomplishments, and this pride seems to push them to outperform themselves, which leads to an undercurrent of respect from those around them.

It’s a subtle and interesting interplay of emotions that I was unable to perceive at all until my brain unpackaged it for me. I wanted to observe an artisan for a few weeks, but they threw me out of the store after they caught me studying the effects of pride on their sleeping habits.

On the subject of sleep: I took a sample of Calvin’s new flesh and began running simulations to see if I can find a way to cause his body to fall asleep.

The Warp seems to be what is keeping him awake, but it’s tricky, as the flesh has incorporated Warp into its life-cycle, and without it, becomes dead flesh.

There are several interesting mutations I was able to glean. I am currently running compatibility testing, but it isn’t looking good. Many of these mutations are finicky and don’t play well with others. It’s remarkable Calvin was still breathing with all the mutations he’d undergone.

 I’ve got all the time in the world to run variations, though, and I will eventually adapt these mutations to my human body, or simply discard them if they prove to be strictly incompatible with her.

As always, I will place priority on making Learner as ideal a human as possible.

She is my greatest accomplishment on this plane of existence, and I am proud of her. That pride pushes me to advance her further.

It occurs to me that giving Learner this much power may one day endanger my safety, but my pride seems to make that possibility seem more and more…acceptable.

Pride is an interesting emotion.

***Calvin***

Calvin couldn’t stop a cackle from building up inside him as he overlooked the concrete foundation  of his very first refinery. In this place, his people would be able to make the thick beams of steel they would need to be able to repair the train and build more track.

“Muahahah!” Calvin’s voice echoed through the empty expanse.

They hadn’t gotten all the equipment together yet, as some of it had to be bought from knick-knacks, but it was already starting to take shape. With a good Bent engine, they could melt steel all day long on only a dozen or so Bent.

Yeah, there’s a reason Harbinger tech revolutionized energy. When you can pull reality-warping energy out of the ether, shit gets crazy, fast. Something as simple as raising the temperature of metal? Child’s play.

There were even Bent-based cosmetic surgeries that could literally change the way you look just by wishing for it. It was a crazy time to be alive. Of course, you weren’t allowed to use one without an I.D. chip, and it was needlessly expensive.

“Can you just give me a moment to gloat without dropping an anecdote about how much better things were when you were alive?” Calvin said, dropping his arms.

Oh, I’m sorry. By all means, continue gloating.

“With the steel produced in this refinery, my people will lay down tracks from here to Boles and beyond, spreading my influence to the far corners of the continent! The money will continue to gush into the March, funding my dark expansion as I topple one pathetic enemy after another!”

You know, they say you can tell the level of technology of a species by its transportation.  We had tugboats that could haul entire planetoids with nothing but the –

“Seriously?” Calvin said.

…I’m lonely.

“Hahaha!” Calvin  slapped his knee and  bent over.

Seriously. Now that Nadia and Kala are gone, the only person to talk to is Kurawe, and he’s a goddamn stick in the mud.

Calvin. I need you to eat somebody. Preferably a hobo with a devil-may care attitude and a great sense of humor.

“Not happening,” Calvin said, straightening. “You know I only eat people I can use. What use is an amusing hobo?”

You can summon him to tell stories?

“Nuh-uh,” Calvin said, shaking his head. “But I tell you what. Feel free to talk to me as much as you want while we go about our business today, and I will respond out loud, regardless of who we’re in front of.”

You don’t think that’ll affect your reputation?

“Pfft,” Calvin waved it off. “That is my reputation. If I’m talking to myself, people will think I’m even more mysterious.”

Hmmm…Challenge accepted.

“Prince consort!” a voice echoed through the empty refinery, catching his attention. A young page was flagging him down.

“Ayup?” Calvin asked, joining the kid at the entryway, where the blinding light of day flooded into the pitch black refinery.

“Sorry to interrupt you…talking to yourself in the dark, but Kala and Kurawe request your presence at the Temple of awakening.”

How about him? He seems sharp. You could eat him.

“Nope, not gonna happen.” Calvin said, then focused on the confused kid. “I’ll be right there.”

A quick jaunt through the sky as a giant wasp later, Calvin settled to the ground and walked through the center of the town, admiring how quickly is was growing.

He saw Kurawe and Kala standing outside the large double doors sealing in the Warp.

Kala was looking particularly princess-y today. She was wearing her ivory and mother of pearl ‘business’ earrings and a pale white dress, showing not a bit of her mischievous streak as she approached.

“Calvin, the girls you bought are here.” She said, peering at him suspiciously. “We thought you’d like a chance to address them before we get started. Taking them to the fourth Break should take about two weeks, to be on the safe side.”

She handed him a small stack of note-cards. “This is what you’re going to say to them.”

“I’m sensing distrust,” Calvin said, taking the notecards form her and reading them.

Kala gave a hint of a smile as she put thumb and forefinger close together in the ‘just a bit’ gesture.

“Alright, fine.”

Calvin entered the temple, flanked by Kala and Kurawe.

Inside were nearly a hundred girls, all about the same age, sitting in small knots and chatting with each other with expressions that ranged from excitement to anxious worry.

Their voices stopped as soon as the door opened, echoing in the stone halls for a fraction of a second as Calvin entered.

He could feel the stares on his skin, a tumultuous mixture of emotions. Some of them thought he was handsome, but most thought his foreign features made him look sickly and big-headed, which was amusing

He could also see himself from ninety-two different angles.

Calvin walked past them up to the lectern where the daily First Breaks were addressed. He stood behind the lectern and arranged the notes, clearing his throat.

“Young women of Juntai.” Calvin said, reading the first four words of the note-card before veering wildly off topic.

“I am the man who has purchased you as Trial Wives.”

Kala slapped her forehead.

“There’s one thing I want you to remember, as you gain strength, confidence, and Willpower,” Calvin said, tightening a fist.

“Your parents sold you to a stranger, for a handful of copper. They fully expected me to rape you, turn you into a doting broodmare with Skills that encourage mindless obedience and sexual servitude. You might not be mad about that now. You might think it’s just the way things are.

But just…keep it in mind. Over the coming weeks, months and years, keep in mind…what they wanted to happen to you.

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If you are pissed about it, I expect you’ll relish the opportunities that you’re about to be given. I’m going to give each and every one of you the power to do or be any godsdamned thing you want to be.”

One of the girls raised a hand.

“Yeah?” Calvin said, pointing.

“What if I want to be a mommy?” several other girls nodded.

Oh crap. I didn’t think of that.

Indoctrination’s a bitch.

“Yeah, no shit,” Calvin scoffed, causing everyone to stare at him.

“Kala, do we offer Skills on…being a mommy?” he glanced over at her.

“We’ll figure something out.” She sighed.

“Anyway, you don’t need to be mommies yet,” Calvin said with a shrug. “Give it like…eight years. Seriously.”

“And after the next two weeks, if you still really want to be a mommy, You’re going to have all the tools to be the most badass mommy ever. Just…wait eight years. You are far less likely to die or be scarred for life.”

Calvin leaned toward Kala “This is really awkward.”

“That’s because you didn’t stick to the script.” She whispered back. 

“Are we married to you?” one of the girls asked. “We are your trial wives, right?”

“Are you going to visit us at night and make us with child?” another asked.

Calvin stared at the girl who couldn’t be much older than eleven, looking back at him with innocent curiosity.

….

“Fuck this.”

Calvin tossed the note-cards into a fluttering cloud in the air and marched toward the enormous double doors leading back outside.

“Kala, you’re in charge,” Calvin said over his shoulder.  “Kurawe, sub for Ella and Learner. No men whatsoever until these girls are fully baked.”

“As you wish, Ravager,” Kurawe said, hurrying after him.

Noped right out of there, didn’t’cha?

“It’s a great idea in theory,” Calvin said, “But in practice, they aren’t aware of any other options besides what they’ve been taught. For them, being a broodmare is as good as it gets. It feels gross and slimy, and I don’t want to be there.”

Also, I can so distinctly see Chris Hansen showing up in your tower.

“I don’t know who that is.”

He hosted a show about catching pedophiles like…two thousand five hundred years ago.

Calvin chuckled as they headed down the street.

“Ravager.” Kurawe said, coming to a halt behind him.

“Eh?” Calvin grunted, glancing over his shoulder.

“One of my bodies has seen that equipping Juntai with your livery and weapons with your stamp has done little to slow the Bolesian incursion into Juntai land. They don’t seem to be stopping.”

“What are my options?” Calvin asked. “The Royal agreement prevents me from creating a flood of giant fire-wasps and burning the offending city-states to the ground, or dropping a mountain on them from the sky.”

“I suggest going to the frontlines yourself and bringing champions who are not Royals to act on your behalf. You can also act personally in a limited capacity as long as you use Skills that are not unique to you.”

So, dupdomancy. Pretty much everything except for Calvinian Summoning and Abyssal Alchemy. I can do that.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be bringing Ella as my champion. Give me…three days to prepare.”

“As you wish, Ravager.”

 I gotta make that grimoire. Calvin thought, heading toward his tower.

He went up into the fourth floor and started work on the book.

Calvin used the same skin he did for his armor, simmering the soft, dark blue leather in toad extract.

For good measure, Calvin took the toad extract and carefully soaked a thousand pages in it, until they were each nearly indestructible. Once they were complete, Calvin couldn’t even write on them, as an invisible force drove away both the pen and the ink.

They weren’t easy to tear, even with Calvin’s Strength being a damn respectable thirty-five.

Once the cover and the pages were created, Calvin made an Unqua clasp to hold it together. With a little ratchetting, the clasp and everything connected to it would shrink.

Perfect.

Calvin then diligently went through his entire component belt and one by one, stashed a duplicate on one of the pages.

Steam, Void, Web, Lightning dust, Flash, Miasma, the tiny cannon, the poison gas capsule, a new bottle of compressed ooze weave slime.

He put the Fireball component in, along with the nitroglycerin, the dynamite, the thermite, and magnesium

With some experimentation, Calvin was able to store a magnesium bar in the paper just as it caught fire. Whenever he copied it from then on, it was already burning.

He stored a huge chunk of Abyssal steel to act as both a source of hard material for Dupdomancy and a source of Mass for Shifting.

Calvin stored the acid and the sodium, the oil, the flexible glass, dragon leather from Boles, The base, alcohol, diamond, Featherwood, spring steel, and a copper plate.

When he considered that the page’s mass limit was huge, Calvin also went to the embassy and bought a large tank of what Elliot called liquid nitrogen, and a fifty pound Bent-powered super-magnet from the Knick-knacks.

Calvin could only carry maybe half of these things comfortably, so he was rather grateful for a way to not only store them, but also target them without having to know exactly where they were in relation to his body.

As an experiment, Calvin took a bottle of air, used Opposite Day to make it superconductive, then sealed the bottle, air and all into the page.

When he came back to the stored bottle a day later and copied the air inside, it was still superconductive.

All Calvin had to do after that was create a violently swirling bottle of air with several tons of mass and magnetism. It was contained in an inch of Abyssal Steel.

Even so, it nearly exploded the lab before he shoved it in one of the pages.

Now, let’s see if this works.

Multi-shaping.

24/54 Bent remaining.

Calvin created a swirling gust of supermagnetized air, and a thin thread of superconducting air between himself and the target.

Crack! Crack crack!

A bolt of lightning leapt out and struck the target three times before the air dissipated.

I like the grimoire.

The fact that the energetic state of the stored object was preserved was a huge benefit. He could excite materials to the exact state he wanted them to be in and then store them like that, allowing him to save time and Bent in battle.

What other uses can I make of this? Calvin thought, the urge to laugh maniacally rising.

Macronomicon

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