CWD: OE ~ Twenty-Four

As they made their way down the stairs, Reuben explained that his new Skill had cost him seven thousand and five hundred credits, and Brie paid the same. Jennifer had paid twenty thousand credits for her new Skill, proving to Nacho that Satiation Players' Skills were considered more potent.

Exiting the stairwell, they found themselves in the entrance to a room that could have easily been the Internal Revenue Service’s main lobby, or any standard DMV. Nacho carefully ran his eyes over the room, noticing that the lights clearly weren’t powered by electricity. Instead, a glowing moss covered what would’ve been a typical office fluorescent light hanging over a cubicle.

Nacho was a little surprised that CruxTerra looked just… super boring. Every computer on every desk was a chunky plastic monstrosity. Each workstation seemed to be made of old tank metal. The equally metallic chairs were similar, though they had a scant half-inch of foam cushion that would offer bureaucratic butts a bit of padding.

The cook crept into the room and eased over to one of the cubicles. While the CruxTerrans had clearly used computers, they also had kept paper ledgers, calendars, and various manuals. A variety of old-fashioned ink stamps were visible on numerous deals, and it was clear that they were used a great deal. CruxTerran written language seemed to be perfect for stamps—big blocky letters with lots of straight lines. Each stamp included the symbol that PewJack had chosen for his empire: the cross-pupiled eye.

Nacho couldn’t read any of the words at first. Once he attempted a System View, the System obligingly translated the text. The document he'd found was a Test Procedure Specification report, and he dropped it as soon as he figured out how useless it was. Then he shuffled some papers to find a calendar, all marked up by an L-three district manager named Pecu Leer. He'd had time set aside on his calendar for interrogations, coercions, and a section of his day for stamping important documents.

Reuben joined Nacho in the cubicle farm, rolling open a filing cabinet the color of boredom. “I think we can be confident that we can beat the CruxTerrans. All we have to do is intercept their TPS reports, and we’ll halt their entire civilization.”

“I found an actual TPS report,” Nacho muttered with a gesture at the document that had landed on the floor.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Brie stood at the door, refusing to join them in rooting through documents. “I’d like to get down to street level and rest. We’ll probably have some fighting ahead of us, and we’re running low on food. Nacho, that means it’s on you to do some cooking.”

Jennifer walked over to a desk where a barcode scanner was connected to one of the terminals. “From the logbook, it looks like they wrote down the names and corresponding ranks of dissidents, recorded the type of ‘persuasion’ they used on them, and whether they were killed or incarcerated. That was all noted, but it’s also fairly apparent that there was a second database for tracking all the methods and information. Why do something once, if you can do it twice? Ugh. Bureaucracy.”

“No joke Let’s get out of here while we still can.” Reuben headed to the door with his wife, only to halt as the Brewer called to them.

“Hold on, there’s more.” Jennifer shook the scanner. “I looked at an old manual using the System View. I’m pretty sure that they scanned people’s eyes to identify them. Could it be that they based their entire civilization based on UPC codes in their pupils?”

“Bar codes? Really? You think that’s what the line is across their pupil?” Nacho stepped away from the reminder of what his life would have been if the Juxtaposition had not happened, both physically and mentally putting distance between himself and the cubicle. “I suppose that makes sense; they have to be something that was added on. Their history shows them without it, and we had already worked out that it was a recent addition.”

“Why wouldn’t a totalitarian world government force people to get tattoos on their eyes?” Reuben shook his head sadly as his wife gently but firmly pulled on his arm. Brie wasn’t verbally hurrying them along, but Nacho could feel her anxious impatience. He understood why. The Kansas City Under Fun had contained multiple dungeons, very dangerous bosses, and a puzzle that had led to the death of Richard Crave and his strike team. The CruxTerran UnderFun likely also had hordes of deadly monsters for them to face.

At the same time, Brie was smart enough to know that the more they knew about the CruxTerrans the better. Only one world would win, and they needed to make sure that winner was Earth.

“Here’s what I’m seeing.” Jennifer easily summed up what they’d found. “Centralized world government. They have networked computers, but it seems like they also used paper backups. Judging by this ledger, it seems that all food production was for large groups only. Nothing was ever made or allowed to be customized just for one person.”

“What does that even mean?” Nacho wondered out loud. “How would that even work?”

“Look.” Jen’s finger trailed down a list of expenses that were subdivided into dining facilities and the food allowed in each one. “Depending on the rank, the quality of food was better. However, even the A-one leadership like Arriod ate at a buffet for breakfast and dinner. Then, over here, you can see that the only food allowed for excursions are meals ready to eat, or MRE’s.”

“Scrambled eggs, toast, pancakes, sausage.” Reuben had gotten interested in the conversation for some reason and ambled back over to read the ledger. “No waffles? Not even at the highest echelon of society? Scrambled eggs only? No sunny-side up, no additions to the basic protein? I need to have onions and a little bit of milk in my eggs. Makes them fluffy and delicious.”

“They take longer to make, and more effort, than mass-production.” Nacho stated with dawning realization. “It isn't about keeping them from having good food; it's all about efficiency and maximizing return. If you can pay a cook for an hour and get as much food as you could with three different cooks making specific meals over the course of three hours, why wouldn't you go with the faster, cheaper option?”

“I need to ask…” Reuben jokingly poked his friend in the side, “Did the CrossHumans teach you how to cook? Because you prepare food exactly like this. Bland, but does the job of filling Hunger Points.”

“I think we’re done here.” Jennifer crumpled up a piece of paper and threw it at Reuben. “Come on, friend. Let’s get outside, and then we can talk about Skills. I used some of the credits to buy myself a brand-new Skill Slot and a very nice new talent.”

“We should level up as much as possible as well, once we are safe,” Brie added, as though they were all having a perfectly normal conversation. “I know it’s not going to be pleasant, but I need to improve my Fitness and Metabolic Efficiency before we go too deep. It’ll also allow us to bump our Skills to a higher Tier… abyss, I’ll need to upgrade my weapon.”

The Berserker led the way down the stairwell and through the building. They passed other cubicle farms, as well as a floor that was nothing but filing cabinets to hold all the reports and memos. The building seemed strangely devoid of monsters and any other living thing. Nacho particularly noticed the odd absence of dungeon welcome messages from the System. Crossing the bottom floor took them past another scanning station, then a guard room where a wicked-looking assault rifle hung on the wall.

Reuben stared longingly at the nifty weapon. “I wish gunpowder worked. I’d love to use that machine gun on monsters.”

Jennifer went over, quickly figured out the gun, and pointed it at the computer and pulled the trigger. It *clicked*. She tossed it on the ground, shrugging easily. No one had expected it to work in the first place. Reuben went and put an arm around Brie, who patted his hand distractedly and led him through the glass doors, which were reinforced inside with blue metal wire; probably the most colorful thing they’d seen in the place.

Outside, other gray, square skyscrapers rose into the rocky ceiling above. Every window glowed with mossy bioluminescence. There were no cars, but large ancient-looking buses, kind of like a cross between a San Francisco cable car and a Soviet-era commuter train, sat abandoned on nearly every block. More blacks, grays, and whites, though there was a bit of frill to the bus design. The street signs were mildly interesting. Nacho used the System View to read them: Third X Axis North. Second Y Axis West.

“We did it!” Jennifer pointed at the signs as the others flinched at her sudden shout. “I don’t want to go on a tangent, but look at the street signs! Do you remember when we entered the Welcome Dungeon and thought that we were going to be fighting math? I think this is why! It was a clue! I’m reading the sine over there, or… maybe the cosine, but I think if we can figure this out, it’ll lead us to the Starvation Dungeon!”

Reuben took a few steps back. “Wait just an abyssal minute, Brewer. I can do puns, but actual math has no place here.”

“No, I think she has a point. We need to figure this out so that we aren't just aimlessly wandering for the next two days.” Brie pointed with Mr. Lacrosse Stick. “Let’s find that park we saw from the top of the building. Once we set up camp, we can level up, talk about our Skills, and try to calculate where we need to be.”

The Dinner Party passed between the government buildings, paused at an intersection, then crossed a deserted street to get to the collection of dead alien trees growing out of the square rectangle of grass surrounded by a sea of cement. Nacho checked the rooftop of the building that they’d just been in, finding that the ladder leading up into the ceiling remained clear of CruxTerrans. If the armies up top had found the castle and noticed the gate open, they would likely still be fighting the fried prisoners.

“Man… anyone else ever get hit by a wave of ‘what the abyss is happening’?” the cook grumped as they found a bench out in the open, away from the shadows thrown by the trees. Nacho frowned at the clear outlines of his footprints in all the grit and watched as the others nodded solemnly.

Brie leaned Mr. Lacrosse Stick against the bench. “I’m not going to mess around. We’re going to use our credits to level, because getting to the edge of Tier two is important now that we have all these skills to play around with. Nacho, can you make sure to have recipes and food ready to go for us at that Tier? I have no interest in starving when we finally make that leap.”

“I’m already on it,” Nacho promised her easily. “It won’t be an issue.”

“Good. I'm that case, I’m going to go ahead and upgrade right now. Everyone please be prepared for issues while I’m indisposed. Okay, I’m feeling my blood starting to boil. Joint pain is next. This one is going to be bad, I can feel it.” Brie shut her eyes and started sweating as her entire body began heating up and glowing. Reuben attempted to hold her hand, but she eased him away without looking at him. “Nothing you can do, and I really don’t want to crush your hand as my muscles tense.”

Seeing the Berserker in so much pain, Nacho wasn’t exactly excited to be leveling up, but she was right about it being important. For just a single moment, he hoped that he would be able to handle the physiological changes at least as well as she was, if only to impress Jennifer. He paused and forcibly relaxed. He didn’t need to impress the Brewer. They were becoming friends, they were adventuring together, but that was it. He just needed to stay alive, keep his people alive, and keep using his Skills until he had perfected them.

A light exhalation was followed by Nacho firming his resolve and whispering, “Practice makes better.”