Museum Core Chapter 125: Future Nonsense

“So this is what it’s been all about …” Frye said, looking at the photograph Thomas had just handed him. “You said the next merge is going to be in twenty-four days. Do you know how … involved it’s going to be?”

Thomas shrugged. “I know when it’ll happen, but not the scope. Unfortunately, the devices that dragon hoarded aren’t all perfect.

“For example, the bloodline detector I found says that Deputy Director Abrams has Honey Badger and Haast’s Eagle bloodlines, and the same thing goes for everyone who shares her Class, and that can’t be natural.

“Every single Anima Monk, and only they, having bloodlines, and those bloodlines perfectly matching their bonds, the odds of that having happened by pure coincidence … those odds are so astronomical we’d probably have to come up with an entirely new branch of mathematics just to adequately display the numbers.”

Frye grimaced, though not for the reason that Thomas expected.

“Anima Monks looking like bloodline holders to cultivators … yeah, that’s not going to backfire horribly, considering everything I know about that particular society.”

Thomas couldn’t help but agree. They hadn’t had much interaction with cultivators directly, not ones that had grown up in a cultivation world, but between the orcs and Elias, they’d still gotten plenty of information, and the picture it painted was far from pretty.

“Probably,” he said. “But I think we’ve gotten off track a bit. I need your help with the planning. Assuming we’re getting another eight transformation zones of similar size to the current ones … where would be the best place to redirect them?”

“So, ecologically, meteorologically, politically, etc,” Frye rattled off.

“Yes,” Thomas said … pointedly not sharing that he hadn’t even considered the politics, mostly being worried about making an even bigger hash of the weather.

For example, the southern Atlantic transformation zone, apparently nicknamed “the Golden Desert,” had made a complete and total mess of that entire ocean.

All the sand that had gotten carried away by the various ocean currents had caused massive algae blooms that were now dying, and the subsequent decay would, at least according to the books in the library, eat up all the oxygen and create a dead zone devoid of life.

However, the main issue was the fact that it sat solidly in the Gulf Stream, which had been thus reduced to practically nothing, and therefore … well, Thomas had absolutely no point of reference as to how bad winter was in London under normal circumstances, but based on the sheer amount of bitching his visitors had done, the last one had been historically bad. As in, the Thames froze over for the first time in over fifty years.

But just because that one had been the most “personal” problem didn’t mean that there weren’t others.

Well, to be precise, having a transformation zone dropped on his head was technically even more personal, but he no longer considered that to be a problem. Especially after he’d chosen to stay as a dungeon core.

“I’ll talk to the experts,” Frye said.

“What are you going to tell them?” Thomas asked. “If it gets out, you guys have the ability to control the next merge …”

“We’ll use NDA contracts,” Frye answered simply, making Thomas sigh internally.  Damn self-imposed restrictions on the orcish Wardens of Truth!

Yes, not letting a functionally immortal being that perpetually lived in a heavily defended bastion that only grew tougher over time have infinite access to “magical shackles” made perfect sense … but that didn’t mean it didn’t still grind his gears.

“I see,” Thomas said, simply.

“We’ll be standing behind these guys with a riding crop the entire time. You should have a basic report in a week, and we’ll keep them producing responses to more and more unlikely scenarios until the clock runs out.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said.

“I also heard about you letting people bid on two new subcores, would you like some advice?” Frye asked.

“Sure,” Thomas said. It wasn’t like he’d have to accept it if Frye offered something false due to holding incomplete information, too patriotic, or just blatantly wrong; he could always ignore it.

“But if you’re going to tell me I should have specified I don’t want bribes, I already learned that lesson the hard way.”

Thomas had asked for museums to be offered up, ones that combined a good stock of exhibits while also having a good, near-guaranteed, traffic of delvers.

Of course, he’d also kept one subcore back, just in case he came up with something he hadn’t been able to think of at right this moment.

But what he’d gotten for those two cores was basically “here’s the little museum in the middle of bumfuck nowhere that we’ll be able to completely control, and here we have ten million dollars’ worth of bribes.”

Yeah … that hadn’t exactly been his intention. Especially considering that he could trade for materials at any time, but had a highly limited supply of subcores.

“Are you sure they were intended as bribes?” Frye asked. “You did just announce that you had subcores in need of homes, and taking blind bids. That probably looked more like ‘pay me’ than ‘convince me.’”

Thomas sighed. “Probably true. I’ll issue a clarification once I’ve figured out how to phrase it politely.”

Frye sniggered unprofessionally. “Personalities the size of cities and egos so fragile they make glass look like diamond in comparison. That’s politics for you.”

“Thank you,” Thomas replied, voice dry as the Sahara. “That’s very helpful.”

“It is what it i- ...” Frye started to say, then did a double-take as Jack wandered past in the distance in his beast form. “Is that tiger wearing a tiara?”

Thomas sighed. “I may or may not have gone overboard outfitting my new champion. A little. And for the record, it’s not a tiara.”

It was a holder of enchanted gems filled with rechargeable elemental attacks, that just looked like a sparkly piece of a kindergartener’s princess costume.

“I see,” Frye said. He probably didn’t believe Thomas, but he could be rather impossible to read when he wanted.

“Anyway, back on topic. Museums. Going purely based on what I’ve seen out of the British Museum, you get monsters based on the museum you assimilate, and expansion is possible, but you seem to have to cover the entire museum first. I’m also guessing the creatures gained are based on the museum in question, and that simply cramming random bits and bobs inside wouldn’t have the intended purpose.”

Mostly right. Thomas decided to nod. As for the efficacy of piling on extra stuff to get more value out of it … well, that was something they’d have to check.

“The Imperial War Museum is always on the table, and technically already promised to you, but I believe you decided to go elsewhere after thinking on it?”

Another nod.

“I’d also offer you the Tank Museum down in Cornwall, but considering you’ve already bought a few of the better machines, I’m guessing you don’t want that one either.”

Thomas nodded again, the monkey he was inhabiting suddenly feeling more like a bobblehead than a, you know, monkey.

“So, I’d suggest you pick these museums, assuming they’re offered. They should be, though,” Frye said, pulling three short, single-page reports from beneath his suit jacket.

“Those are three offers,” Thomas pointed out.

“Yeah … one is a shoo-in, at least in my opinion, the others … well, it depends.

“So, number one, I’d offer the Deutsches Museum in Munich. It’s a pretty chaotic spread of various topics, mostly technological, but covers everything from spaceflight to bridgebuilding, including aeronautics and shipbuilding.

“It’ll hopefully give you something to fill that ‘engineering’ gap in your skillset.”

Thomas was about to ask whether Frye should be helping him become independent, but the other man answered before he could even ask.

“I said I’d give you advice. This is what, in my opinion, the most advantageous for you.” Frye winked at him. “Besides, most of the engineers helping you aren’t ours.”

Well, that tracked. Also …

“And any extra demand for System access in Europe also benefits the British government, because you’re the ones who can grant it,” Thomas guessed.

“Actually, the Germans figured out a way around that, and now that the anchor beast is gone, they’re implementing it. It’s basically a mid-20th-century tech diving bell, or so I’m told.”

“A diving bell is open on the bottom. Anyone inside would get crushed like a tomato in a hydraulic press, wouldn’t they?” Thomas wondered.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Frye said. “They built a dome they can permanently attach to the ground, and the sub can then anchor to that, lock out the ocean, and then open at the bottom straight into the dome through an airlock.”

That sounded good, but …

“How long would that last down there?” Thomas wondered.

“Not long, but they don’t need it to,” Frye said. “They can always just build more, and charge everyone else through the nose to use this one to fund the next one.”

“You know, I might be able to adapt the Belfast to provide a service like that …” Thomas “offered,” but continued before Frye could interject. “… but I won’t. Muscling in on everything I possibly can is a terrible idea in the long run.”

Granted, that admission could have gone over rather badly, but Thomas felt it appropriate for the audience at hand. Frye would get the intended message of “I don’t intend to be an ass about any of this.”

Also, while Frye’s information on the “easy” access to the Atlantis System was helpful, it also didn’t change the fact that the nearest place to get the magic powers needed to take full advantage of a dungeon was solidly under British control.

“Anyway, that sounds like a solid option,” Thomas said. “Munich’s a big city, right?”

“Big city, big airport, well connected through highway and rail, and plenty of military bases with easy access. And it’s in the middle of Europe.”

So, good traffic too.

“Well, that sounds like a winner, then,” Thomas decided, and began to dig through the pile of offers to check if it was actually available. Apparently, it was. And as a slight bonus, they could now also check whether or not piling other stuff inside would work, since this particular museum lacked any animal-based exhibits.

So if they stuffed a couple of rooms with crates of taxidermied critters and he didn’t get any animal monsters when emplacing the subcore, that should disprove the concept.

“What about the others?”

“Firstly, you’d obviously have the option of offering one subcore to the United States of America. I know someone over there is being stubborn, but …”

“I don’t have anything against the US,” Thomas interjected. “I’ll happily deal fairly with the nation as a whole. If they accept a core under the conditions I offer, they’ll get it. It’s one specific person in the government, or persons, I don’t actually know, who has a problem with me.

“If they’re willing to bury the hatchet, so am I. If they’re not …” he shrugged. “I’m not bending over backwards to make something happen.”

“Fair,” Frye acknowledged. “The United States would give you more traffic than any other nation, and, quite frankly, you’d have your pick of museums. Technological ones, various prehistoric ones … but whatever you’d pick, it would be well-visited.”

“And keep the core out of Chinese hands,” Thomas pointed out.

In response, Frye threw him the last paper.

“While I was going to ask if you could avoid empowering a powerful geopolitical force opposed to Great Britain and her allies, I’d like to remind you that I’m advising you on what’s best for you.”

“I don’t think World War 3 is what’s best for me,” Thomas replied dryly. “In your professional opinion, what are the chances of that happening if geopolitics shift?”

“Honestly?” Frye asked, blowing out a long stream of breath. “The only way a war isn’t going to happen is if everyone sits down at the table and works this out. Otherwise … tensions have been building for years, even before this, and with how quickly things are shifting, at some point, someone is going to see something they don’t like, a trend that makes things look like the other side is going to be unbeatable in twenty years, and then things are going to pop off.

“And that’s assuming no president decides that he has ‘proof’ that the yearly hurricanes are actually China’s fault, instead of only asking if a nuclear strike would be an appropriate response to a natural phenomenon.”

“What are we talking about?” Thomas asked, having slightly lost the plot.

“The fact that two-party systems have a nasty way of asking voters to choose between a rock and a hard place,” Frye sighed. “Anyway, that’s my opinion on good museums. We’re also currently exploring the other transformation zones, as per usual, we’re willing to sell you the parts.”

Thomas grinned. “I’m guessing you have a wishlist too?”

***

Frye wound up leaving fifteen minutes later, leaving Thomas deep in thought.

On one hand, the man’s pessimistic opinion of the current geopolitical situation were depressing, on the other hand, “no matter what happens, it’s going to end in war” was a weirdly freeing idea. Because it took the responsibility for future global conflicts out of his hands … but that was just too easy. Washing his hands on the topic of any consequences just felt wrong.

And as such, while both China and the US would be best from a purely selfish perspective, that just wasn’t going to happen. Even if he hadn’t outright caused whatever happened, he’d likely still feel responsible in some way. And rationalizing his way out of guilt wasn’t exactly something he could do; he knew himself well enough to realize that.

In the end, that meant he’d have to choose something else, and digging through the literal pile of offers revealed something pretty perfect.

A very simple offer from the Japanese government: say what kind of museum you’d like to put your subcore in, and we’ll build it.

He wouldn’t take it until the second wave of the merge had happened and he knew that he had some breathing room, but if he could afford the wait, he’d take the offer in a heartbeat. And it would give him easy access to the Divine Hunting Ground.