“Please, calm down,” Xoiae said. “I’m not the slightest bit upset.”

  I blinked. “No?”

  “No.” She set down her cup of tea. “You had a stressful day, and given your current understanding of events, you found no other option than to break your suppression bands.”

  I perked up. “Thanks—”

  She took a sudden breath, cutting me off. “You’re still in trouble. I’m just not upset about it.”

  Ardenidi gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll let you two have fun.”

  “You stay here, dear,” Xoiae politely ordered, gesturing toward the table. “There’s enough seats for everybody.”

  We immediately sat.

  The cat rolled off her lap and crawled into mine, where he promptly fell asleep.

  Curses.

  What little simmering possibility of escape remained had all but vanished, like smoke in the wind. You couldn’t run for your life with a sleeping cat on your lap. It’s just too rude. Inhuman even.

  Xoiae clicked her tongue. “Why so tense? I said I wasn’t angry, didn’t I?” A pot of tea flickered to life, pouring itself into a pair of ceramic cups, none of which had been on the table a moment before.

  “You feel that?” Headmaster Xoiae asked. “I’m doing a lot without flashy explosions of mental energy. That’s the power of mental efficiency, and that’s precisely why we’re having this conversation.”

  Efficient was an understatement. The mental energy she’d used to summon two cups and pour a kettle was so subtle as to be nearly indistinguishable from a stray thought.

  My wrists fell to my sides, weighed by two thick metal braces, matching the girthy bands that had appeared around my ankles.

  And then the suppression hit.

  The pace of my thinking slowed tremendously while the rest of the world sped up, faster and faster, until I could feel a headache on the way as I struggled to process the words everyone said.

  “Great.”

  Xoiae took a sip of her tea. “As I told you previously, your raw mental energy is astounding. Your power has increased by almost a hundred times since we last met.”

  Ardenidi drummed her fingers on the table. “That’s good, right?”

  Xoiae smirked. “He can fight three ranks above his level while using mental energy.” Xoiae smirked. “Yes, having the will of a thousand people is quite a substance. But that’s your healthy limit, Grind. The problem stems from your fight with the Core. You simply weren’t strong enough to match a monster with millions of stats purely through your mental energy. By all accounts, you should most certainly have died.”

  I glanced at myself. “But I’m not dead though. That’s a good thing, right?”

  Xoiae sighed. “Yes but no. It would've been better if you died and were revived, like the majority of players. Instead, you had to suffer long-lasting internal damage.” Xoiae folded her arms into the long sleeves of her white dress. “I’ll be blunt. Grind, you’re traumatized.”

  I blinked.

  “Obviously.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, rising from my chair. “Is that it?”

  A tremendous force of mental energy forced me back into my chair.

  Ardenidi cleared her throat. “Grind, this is a video game, remember?”

  “So?” I asked, taking a nervous sip of my tea. “I just need some time to collect myself.”

  “You have no idea how literal that statement is,” Headmaster Xoiae snapped. “Trauma is not some abstract concept in Tetratera. It’s expressed through a stat known as system integrity, and, in most people, it’s at about ninety-nine to ninety-eight percent.”

  Somehow, Xoiae was suddenly behind me, pressing a hand against my head. “Grind, do you know what you are?”

  “A player?”

  “And what is that? And don’t just say ‘a human.’”

  I had to think about it. “A person who can use the leveling and stats systems.”

  “How?”

  I blanked.

  She was sitting on the table with one of my screens in her hands, flicking through the menus. “You are not in a physical body. As you’re well aware, Tetratera is a video game, which, given our lack of gaming equipment, appears to mean our consciousness has been moved into the game, likely as part of a voluntary test.”

  She watched my reaction carefully. “You’re smart, if impulsive. You do understand, don’t you.”

  Something clicked.

  “The player’s mind is stored in the game,” I muttered. “If you’re experiencing trauma, that means there’s literal damage in your mind, right?”

  Ardenidi frowned. “Hang on. If your brain gets messed up, the system would start having issues, right? Aren’t brains complicated?”

  Headmaster Xoiae slipped back into her chair. “Players have a two-way connection to the game. The game sends them information, the brain develops, making choices, and the choices are sent back to the game. This is a delicate balance. Both the system and the brain are fragile. From what I understand, even minor damage to your mind would result in errors within the game, possibly triggering a crash. So we have a hidden system which fills in patches when our brains get sick. Do you know how?”

  She laid a screen onto the table. “Artificial intelligence. In other words, monster brains.”

  {Grind : Shock - system_integrity 65%}

  [Disruption effect : 4%]

  [Edge case : 95%]

  [Regulator : 10%]

  “An integrity of sixty five percent means that out of a hundred thoughts, only sixty-five function as intended. A disruption effect of four percent means that of those dysfunctional thoughts, four percent are entirely created from an AI, in order to push your mental regulation into healthier territory. Speaking of which, Regulator is similar but less subtle, dampening your feelings. Bandwidth monitors the emotional intensities you can currently experience at any given time without damaging your mind. Edge case monitors the most recent substantial shift in your mental state. Judging from this, you reached a point during your fight with the core where ninety-five thoughts out of a hundred were likely born from the AI countermeasures.”

  I had broken into a cold sweat, gradually processing each statistic. “So when I have spikes of mental energy—”

  “The ‘will’ of robots can be anything from zero to infinity,” Xoiae stated. “Monsters have a stat to determine will, as they have no true intention, but players don’t. There’s a difference between doubling your maximum willpower in a moment of tension and increasing by several orders of magnitude.”

  “You’re saying that when I got into that fight—”

  “You were virtually indistinguishable from a monster,” Headmaster Xoiae said with a nod. “They use the same systems. And yes, before you ask, no, there’s never been a player in recorded history who has reached zero percent system integrity, if only because no one has survived with the aftereffects. If they had, it would be incredibly dangerous.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “What kind of aftereffects?”

  “Poor judgement. Processing inability. Extreme mood swings. Plus split personalities and a tendency to ignore pain and fatigue. Now, don’t panic, it’s very reversible. Your human brain will naturally overwrite the AI’s influence, but it is something to be taken seriously.”

  She clapped her hands, and we were in the middle of a kitchen, only a few feet from where Sip, Toya, Catania, and Soise were playing a game of cards.

  “Hello dears,” Xoiae said, waving politely.

  The party froze in shock.

  Well, most of our party, anyway.

  Sip waved back. “Hey headmaster.” He adjusted some of his bandages, holding up another card. “Guys, snap out of it. It’s probably something with Grind.”

  Catania looked slowly to the door. “I could’ve sworn we locked that.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t keep a platinum out,” Headmaster Xoiae chuckled. “And yes, Sip, you’re quite right. Grind is going to need some special care these next few days. You may have to make some adjustments to your schedule.”

  Sip twitched. “H-headmaster?” He swallowed, suddenly scared out of his mind, shaking like a branch in the wind. “We’re still going on the raiding vacation, aren’t we?”

  She nodded.

  Sip let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”

  “You and your obsession with money,” Soise grunted.

  “Money is power and power is delicious,” Sip cackled back. “Anyone got twos?”

  Catania threw her card on the table, clutching her face in her hands. “I hate this stupid game!”

  “Hey, why don’t you cook something for us,” Soise asked, patting her friend on the back. “No sense playing a game if you’re not having fun.”

  “I’m fine,” Catania muttered. “Besides, none of the stores are going to have the ingredients we need.”

  Toya scratched his head. “Why’s it about fish anyway?”

  Ardenidi glanced around the room, taking in the moment. “I get Xoiae bringing the three of us here, but the table and chairs too?”

  “She didn’t spill a drop of tea,” I whispered.

  “I know right? I didn’t even feel anything. How’d she do that?”

  Headmaster Xoiae cleared her throat and everyone went dead silent.

  “As I was saying, Grind is going to need more attention in the next few days. His mind has partially fragmented.”

  Soise covered her mouth.

  “Please, you don’t know what that even means,” Toya growled.

  “It sounds serious!”

  “Given what he’s already been through, it can’t be that serious,” Toya said, rolling his eyes. He paused. “It’s not bad, right?”

  Xoiae smiled. “It’s more of a serious nuisance than anything life-threatening. He isn’t quite himself. In order to fix that, he needs to spend quality time with friends—”

  Sip perked up.

  “---before the raid can happen.”

  He slammed his head on the kitchen table.

  “I’ll postpone a mission somewhere distant, so you six can get a general helping of stats and experience,” Xoiae stated. “But before you start going back on missions, Grind needs to find himself a little, and that takes time. It won’t be safe to take him on a mission for a few days. Possibly longer. Possibly less. Keep an eye on him for me.”

  Xoiae was suddenly gone.

  She reappeared for another instant, glaring at me. “And Grind? Don’t even think about training.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “What if—”

  “No.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “Yes you were.”

  She vanished.

  Soise was the first to move, bolting from her chair, to grab me by the face. “Grind? Grind? Do you remember who we are? How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine! Geez!” I swatted her hands away. “Soise, I can remember everything perfectly.”

  Too well, actually. There were a couple rather disturbing memories where I could count the cracks in the pavement, the hair on people’s heads, and the specks of crystal in brick siding.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Alright, I guess.” I said with a shrug. “ Maybe a little tired? And bored. I’m really bored right now.”

  “The boredom is pretty normal,” Ardenidi stated. “Grind, is there anything you’d like to do?”

  I glanced at the kitchen table. “Actually—”

  We spent the next few hours playing go-fish. Sip won again, possibly cheating, though it was hard to tell.

  As much as I would’ve liked to play longer, Screech would certainly be up by now, wondering where I’d gone off to.

  I returned to my apartment sometime around nine in the morning.

  Flour dusted the floor, clinging to piles of squash pulp and forgotten rinds.

  I took a deep breath. “Screech?”

  “Don’t look!” Screech shouted from our kitchen. “It’s a surprise!”

  I stepped around the corner, locking eyes with the four-year-old, who sat on a stool with a spatula in his hand, cooking breakfast.

  “I SAID IT WAS A SURPRISE!” Screech hollered.

  The undulating mass in the pot bubbled up in my direction. Screech gave it another good whack, splattering overcooked black and purple squash on the counter.

  I took another deep breath, prying the pot from his hands. “Since when can you cook?”

  He crossed his arms with a huff. “I’m not talking to you anymore. Jerk.”

  Screech wasn’t really a kid. He looked like a kid, and his mind was in a similar state, but he’d aged for years now. I could at least be polite.

  “You were cooking this for me? That’s…” I started coughing, pushing the pot out from directly beneath my face. “...well that’s very thoughtful.”

  I had a spoonful.

  {Undulating Substance : Unknown entity}

  [You have been afflicted with [Food poisoning XI]]

  “And it’s good too,” I said between gritted teeth. “Mmm”

  Screech turned away, trying to keep from smiling in pride. “You’ve gotta eat all of it.”

  I glanced down at the pot.

  I threw it out a window so fast the pot might as well have teleported. “Mmmm.”

  He blinked, looking over his shoulder. “You ate the pot too?”

  “I’m very hungry.”

  After briefly considering the use of a little mental energy, I realized I couldn’t do anything with the bands on, so I got on my hands and knees, combing through the carpet in the nostalgically painful slow process of cleaning an entire house. Except this time, I was keenly aware how much I was struggling with basic movements, like picking things up with my shaking hands.

  “Where’d you get that jewelry?” Screech asked, rocking himself back and forth on the hardwood kitchen floor.

  It took me a second to realize what he’d meant.

  I tapped the braces. “These? They’re from Headmaster Xoiae.”

  He wiped his nose on my knee. “Why?”

  “They’re supposed to make me stronger.”

  “Does she like you?”

  I hesitated. “It’s hard to tell, but I think so. At least we know each other fairly well.”

  “Does Ardenidi know you’re cheating?”

  I choked. “Xoiae’s my Headmaster, not my girlfriend. Also she’s about a million years older than I am.”

  “Oh.”

  I nodded slowly. “You get it?”

  He shook his head. “Where’s Sharon?”

  “I don’t know,” I sighed. “He’s out looking for a way to get stronger.”

  “Can we get more food? All your food smells bad.”

  I grabbed him by the hand. “C’mon. We’re going grocery shopping.”

  “But I don’t want any more squashes.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “They’re smelly.”

  “I know.”

  “Grind, don’t buy any squashes. Promise?”

  “I’ll take your opinion into consideration.”

  “Grind? Grind, they taste weird. Grind? You’re not going to buy squashes, are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Grind?”

  “Screech, if it means that much to you then I won’t buy you any squashes.”

  “Promise?”

  I bit my lip. “Sure.”

  Quick update, I plan to take the day off writing Thursday and Friday, now that the Writathon is winding down.

  // {Notice} //

  Hi! Hope you enjoyed my fantasy story. But as much fun as a fantasy is, there’s things in the real world beyond what writing can fix. That’s where you come in.

  Want to fight human trafficking? Whether you’ve got money or time there are two organizations I wholly recommend.

  Race Day — Thirty

  Donate - Venture

  https://www.freeinternational.org