SCODE pilot. Chapter 1.

 A note from the author. I want to know how this form of writing goes down with the average reader. If it's too much technical stuff, tell me. 

Chapter 1

//Orders given to reduce containment bleed. -OP

Fanatic Colorburst Blaze(P){

      Define IND Sycamore;

      Onward.Lock(Sycamore);

      Bleed;

//He really needs to have some time to cool off. -Abigail

      Timer Set 100KB;

      Environment = REDUCEBY(90P);

//I hate to do this to him. -Zach

      Replacement.Ability = DERISION();

//We are going to need him again. -Zach

      Hide(ABIGAIL);

      Reduce.vibrations(P, Sycamore);

//But for now, he must wait. -Abigail

      Donate(ABIGAIL.);

      Do.Not.Reduce(INTELLIGENCE);

//We’ll leave him something to work with. -Zach.

      Hidefunction(SYCAMORE, 95);

      Knowledge.keep;

//He’ll know everything. -Abigail

      Stoneforge(SYCAMORE){

                  If(CODEBREAK) = true, abscond;

                  If(CODEBREAK) = mismatch, recover;

                  Deny.Port;

                  }

//He needs to keep it secret. -OP

      Condense(POWER100) into SPHERE1;

      //And he will return. -Abigail.

      }

End SCODE;

 

The world is a different one from any a person in the first half of the twenty-first century could have imagined. Magic is real, and it is controlled through the use of devices known as “magnetic aether accelerators.” However, even with these devices, most people can barely lift a rock above their heads. Those who can do more are considered national resources, to be taught, developed, and husbanded. Ever since the third world war tore through the globe and reduced human populations by two thirds, magic users have become each country’s insurance against defeat via enemy magicians. Nuclear bombs are pittance compared to the power of the select few: the Risen. There are only twenty-five known Risen, and each one has their own way of being as devastating as ten nuclear bombs. They are ranked by power and they are the only reason why the world has not yet descended back into chaos.

The world has recovered since the end of the war. Normal life resumes for the survivors, but low birth rates around the world have prevented a resurgence of the population. The Risen have disappeared somewhere, and the threat of annihilation seems to have been avoided. Now the everyday lives of normal people are separated from those who know how to use magic.

Magic users who have been identified go to special schools that the government funds in order to maintain the ranks of their combat magicians. These schools are segregated by power level into three ranks: Rose, Violet, and Dandelion. Each rank gains more privilege than the ones under it. Rose students gain access to the finest teachers, the finest facilities, and the best education that money can buy. Meanwhile, Dandelion students are third-stringers who are only given the bare minimum of education to retain their use to the government.

This is where I come in.

My name is Samuel Ryan. I am a Dandelion magician and it’s the day of the opening ceremony at my school in New York. I am a sophomore who has transferred in, so I am new to the school. This school is, by all means, the pinnacle of magic education in the United States. Only the best magicians get to come here. The rest of us are barely bystanders, recruited by the school to fulfill its quota of students from each ability level.

When I took my transfer test, I registered in the bottom fortieth percentile in terms of transfer energy and casting speed. My school issue MAX (magnetic aether Accelerator) did not perform to my standards, but that doesn’t change the fact that I scored near the bottom for acceptance rates, even for Dandelion students. My sister, on the other hand, tested in the top five people who have ever taken the exam. She’s in ninth grade, a year younger than I am. She’s going to be the freshman speaker during the opening ceremony this year. Her “operating system” is “fanatic reactive,” which means that she can cast multiple spells in parallel. Fanatic reactive is the perfect operating system for being at the top in terms of raw power and flexibility.

I walk onto the school grounds in the midst of a crowd. Each member of the three tiers wears a badge on their school uniform representing what striate they’re in. There are a lot of Roses at the moment, and I have a hard time maintaining eye contact with them. I know they’re looking down on me, a dandelion level. I can handle this level of classism, and I look onward with serenity in my expression. I am not going to be a target for their persecution.

When I reach the assembly hall, I enter into a large amphitheater akin to a college lecture hall, but bigger. At least two thousand students are already here, in their seats.

I take an empty seat next to a red-haired girl wearing a ribbon.

“Hello,” says the red-haired girl. “You’re a fellow dandelion. My name’s Chandra.”

“Nice to meet you, Chandra,” I say, shaking her hand.

“What’s your operating system?” says Chandra.

“Reclusive Ocular,” I say.

“Reclusive?” says Chandra. “I’ve never heard of that supertype before.”

“It’s a type that is defined by irregularity,” I say. “The type is only given when an OS doesn’t suit any of the other supertypes.”

“I myself am an Operatic Dismal,” says Chandra. “I’m mostly trained in Jaxism.”

“The Peruvian martial art?” I say.

“Yeah, you seem to know what it is,” says Chandra.

A rather nerdy looking girl with long black hair and large glasses sits down on the other side of me from Chandra.

“Hello,” she says. She is a dandelion rank just like us.

“Hi,” says Chandra. “What’s your name?”

“Cris,” says the girl.

“Okay, Cris,” says Chandra. “What’s your operating system?”

“Dynamic Chard,” says Cris. “I don’t have much control over my magic. It happens before I can tell it what to do.”

“I’ve known some high level Roses with the Dynamic Chard operating system,” says Chandra. “It’s not a bad operating system. Has a lot of compatibles.”

“They’re all expensive or require too much computational power,” says Cris. She turns to the stage. “I think they’re about to start.”

My sister, Emi, approaches the stage.

“Entering the forty-fifth class at Ixtham Academy for the Magic Sciences, leading speaker, Emi Lane.” The announcer’s voice is curt.

Emi climbs the steps to the stage and stands behind the podium.

“I greet this incoming class with the utmost concern for your well being,” she says. “I, myself, am no more than a commoner with the great blessing of coming to a school that is known across the nation and the world for its excellence, both in academics, and magic. I address this speech to those who would wish to build a better world for all. We have been brought here by fate, by circumstance, and by commonality. I wish to increase our awareness of the fact that we are all in this together, whether Rose, Violet, or Dandelion. I wish that we could overcome our differences.”

“I hope that, through working with you all, I will come to understand the true meaning of patriotism, courage, and truthfulness. There is no better possibility than the advancement of the human race, the elimination of poverty, war, and famine, and the creation of a generation of people who live to create a better world. I believe we are this generation, and we have the ability to create this reality. Thank you.” Emi steps down from the podium and is replaced by the principal.

“Thank our student leader, Emi Lane,” says the principal. “For her frank speech.” He seems to have swallowed something sour. I know exactly why. Our society isn’t really one where dandelions and roses can be considered as equal. If Emi wasn’t head and shoulders above everyone else in magic and academic ability, she would have never gotten away with that speech.

Chandra leans towards me and whispers. “What do you think her goal is?” she says.

“I know exactly what it is,” I say. “She wants equality.”

“How do you know that?” says Chandra.

“She’s my sister,” I say. “I know everything about her.”

“Oh, wow,” says Chandra. “But why are you a Dandelion while she’s a top level Rose?”

“Because we’re not fully biological,” I say. “She is my half sister. We have the same father.”

“Seriously?” says Chandra. “Genetics really do something, don’t they?”

Cris narrows her eyes behind her thick eyeglasses. “Ms. Lane’s spirit aura is very refined. I can feel it. It feels like a cold snap in the middle of January, colored pink with something I can’t understand.”

“You have spirit vision?” I say.

“I can’t turn it off,” says Cris. “My glasses keep it contained, but …”

“It’s fine,” I say. “I understand most of the theory behind spirit vision.”

The principal continues to drone on about achievement and prosperity. I turn to Chandra.

“Do you have any siblings who are here?” I ask.

“Yes,” says Chandra. “A brother. He’s a Violet in his junior year.”

“Hm,” I say. “Any familial resemblance?”

“He has bright red hair like I do,” says Chandra.

“My sister is a Rose in her senior year,” says Cris.

“So genetics isn’t everything,” says Chandra.

The principal chooses that moment to end his speech and dismiss everyone. I stand up.

“It’s time for secondary eval,” I say.

“I’m not excited,” says Chandra.

“I am,” says Cris. She smiles.

“Is it okay if we go with you?” says Chandra. “You appear to be a very reliable guy.”

“I’m not disinclined to have company,” I say.

The three of us walk towards the magic training grounds.

A group of people is gathering near a small outbuilding. I approach.

“Stay back if you know what’s good for you,” says a male student with a Rose badge. “We’ve got something to do.”

Two Dandelions and a Violet are backed against the outbuilding. They are clearly being vindicated against.

I approach.

“Stay back!” yells the Rose.

I hold up my hand. “No need to hurt anyone,” I say. “I’m sure we can deal with this situation peacefully.”

“Not if these stems know what’s good for them,” says the student.

“Stems?” I say.

“What, you’re a stem and you don’t know what you are?” says the student.

I hold up both hands. “I’m not looking for trouble. And neither are these three students.”

“Shut up,” says the Rose, holding out a ring-type MAX. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Three rings of differing color disperse around the MAX, filled with articulate characters.

This is what I read:

Exit Start: Seclusive Rampant;

This means that the caster can “inhabit” objects with SCODE. It’s a calling card that starts the program.

Choose Target = 3#B0K;

He’s aiming at something close to me that he can inhabit.

Inhabit(3#B0K){

      Fire.Element.PERSE;

      }

He’s giving it life as a fire elemental.

Energy.source(DEVIN_1);

He’s powering it up.

Package!;

He’s getting ready to cast the spell.

A beautiful girl wearing the uniform of a senior approaches, with a band on her arm representing the disciplinary committee.

I hold out my MAX—a small ring—and run the following program.

Exit Start: Ocular Inversion;

Break;

It’s two simple lines that cancel an opponent’s casting process.

“Hey!” yells the girl, just as the aggravating Rose’s spell fizzles. “You’re not supposed to use your MAXes against other students!”

The aggravating Rose backs towards his cronies. “I wasn’t doing anything!” he says.

I turn to the girl. She really is beautiful, with long flowing black hair and an elegance to her that is implacable. She frowns, as two other disciplinary committee members follow her.

“Gary Genius,” she says. “You’re under academic arrest for utilization of a MAX to incite violence against another student.”

I held up my hand. “He wasn’t using an attack pattern,” I say.

It’s a bold-faced lie, of course.

“And how do you know?” says the girl. Not angrily, more questioning.

“I can read SCODE as it’s being cast,” I say. “It’s part of my operating system.”

“You’re a Dandelion,” says the girl. “Well, I wouldn’t expect any less of a Dandelion who managed to get into Ixtham.” She extends her hand. “My name is Manilla. I hope I don’t have to talk to you in situations like this in the future.”

“Likewise,” I say, shaking her hand. “I’m on the same wavelength as you.”

“I like you,” says Manilla. “Come to the disciplinary council room after you get your secondary test. Until then, good day.” She turns around and walks away.

“Well,” I say. “That was frightening.” I just hope the rest of my day won't be so exciting. 

The Alchemist Final Chapter: 40

 

Chapter 40

I stood in front of the field that had ben fertilized with bird poop, a huge grin plastered on my face. Just like I had promised, the yield was three times what the other acres had given.

Barns huffed. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he said, “But that poop worked magic. Now we don’t have to worry about starving through the winter. This is the biggest bumper crop I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’ve been here a long time, right?” I said.

“Sixty years,” said Barns. “I was born here under the harvest moon.”

I chuckled. “Well then. Shall we start harvesting?”

Barns looked around. “Come on, boys!” he said, to the farm hands who were with us. “Let’s start the harvest!”

I stood back and watched them work. I had no experience with working the fields, and my time was better spent inventing things.

I walked back to Freedom Hill, which had grown to a town of about six thousand people. The layout of the city had been a success, at least until now, and the roads were very well maintained. I had made them out of concrete, not asphalt, because concrete held up better to the elements.

I walked up to the factory where we were producing weapons and armor. Claude was sitting on a bench just outside the building.

I sat down next to her. She shaved off a slice of cheese from her lunch, offering it to me.

“Sure,” I said, taking the cheese. It was good cheese.

Claude looked at me. “I never thought I’d see anything like this,” she said. She returned her gaze to where it had been.

A neon sign. I had made it, of course, and now it was hanging over the tavern. It wasn’t lit yet, but I knew that, in the night, it would broadcast its presence just like that famous place in Hong Kong. We had since fixed all the electrical things regarding the generator. The lights no longer flickered, and there were hundreds of them in use, even though the town was this small.

There was running water in every house. Flushing toilets in the houses of the middle and upper class. We had spent a lot of effort building a water tower near the city’s edge, in order to provide water pressure. And, we hadn’t suffered a single outbreak. That was proof enough that my planning was working.

Claude leaned back in her seat, having finished her lunch. “This place relaxes me,” she said. “The people here are so happy. Everyone seems to like it here.”

“I tried hard,” I said. “And people finally started following me.”

Claude exhaled. “And you did it. This is what you’ve been working for ever since you came. A city where you can implement your ideas as much as you want.”

“How is the Guardians’ aluminum mine going?” I asked.

“I’m glad you asked,” said Claude. “We’re still pulling up a lot. Tanna says we haven’t even cracked a tenth of the aluminum you buried that first time.”

“Hah,” I said. “I wasn’t really thinking at that time. There were probably many better ideas out there for making money with my powers.”

Claude shrugged. “It worked. The relations with the forest elves are better than ever before. Boomstack is a bustling town filled with people trying to strike it rich. Nothing like Freedom Hill, though,” said Claude.

“Everyone wants to strike it rich here,” I said.

“Did you see the new dye factory that went up in the bird quarter?” said Claude.

“I saw,” I said. “It’s the first sign of foreign investment. Something we need to protect.”

“You and your big ideas,” said Claude. “Always trying to go higher in the world.”

“Just be glad I’m not malicious,” I said.

“Don’t joke around like that,” said Claude. “You’ll jinx it.”

I shrugged. “I have my morals. That’s all I need.”

“And the workers,” said Claude. “They’re the happiest workers I’ve seen anywhere.”

“That’s the power of a lunch break,” I said, “And a respect for worker safety.”

“About your constitution,” said Claude. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? You’d be giving up your own power to the will of the people.”

“That’s exactly the point,” I said. “Government is for the people, by the people. We exist to serve them, not the other way around.”

“You have a peculiar way of thinking,” said Claude.

“I lived in a peculiar nation,” I said. “A nation where freedom is first. Where people can speak their minds and not be afraid of punishment. There are still bad places in my world, of course, but I lived in a good place. America is a good template, because democracy is the best form of government we know of.”

“Democracy,” said Claude. “That’s what you call it?”

“Yep,” I said. I stood up, brushing off my pants. “Do you want to go see Moray?”

“Sure,” said Claude. We walked through the town until we came to the power plant. Moray, Canary, and Jones were tinkering with the transformer device. They were holding some electrical engineering papers I had provided them with. They were better at it than I was by a hundred yards.

“Heya,” said Moray. “Can you help us out here? We’re wondering where the buzzing sound is coming from.”

I took one look at the device and shook my head. “No idea,” I said. “You’re way beyond my depth.”

“I think it’s this resistor,” said Jones. “It needs to be stepped up a few ohms.”

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” said Moray. He turned to me. “Thanks for trying.”

I paused. “Do you guys want to get something to eat?” I asked.

“Sure, --ah!” said Moray, as the transformer shocked him. He sucked on his finger. “Okay. As soon as we’re done here.”

We watched until they finished repairing the device. When they were done, we went to Freedom Hill’s first fancy restaurant, owned by none other than Tanna. I entered and sat down, followed by Moray, Claude, Jones, and Canary. We all received menus.

“I’ll have the Colonel’s chicken,” I said.

“Same here,” said Moray.

The rest of the people ordered. There was a small moment of silence.

“I think the paper airplane contest is going to become a yearly thing,” said Canary.

“Ah, that,” said Moray. “I’ll have to defend my title.”

“Have you read this morning’s Brownfield Times?” said Jones.

“No,” I said. “I haven’t read my copy yet.”

“Then you have to listen. The hunting of dragons has been outlawed by the crown.”

I smiled. “Great. That’s the reason I started the newspaper, after all.”

“And get this,” said Jones. “The production of electricity has been achieved in two other towns besides Freedom Hill. Brownfield isn’t one of them, but people think it’s going to be next.”

“You did it,” said Moray, to me. “You changed the world.”

I did my best to smile. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourselves. You’re the ones who made it happen.”

The door burst open. “Is Markus here?” said a voice. I turned, and saw it was Yonas.

“Yes?” I said.

“The Elders,” said Yonas. “I heard it from the skies. They’re coming.”

“Oh, this is bad,” said Moray. “The Elders …”

“Why now?” I said. “We stopped the killing of dragons.”

“It might have been too late,” said Yonas. “Come on. You have to see what I saw.”

We got up just as the food came. Moray looked at me. “You go,” he said. “We’ll stay here until you can figure out what’s going on.”

I left the restaurant and went with Yonas to the edge of town. There, on the ground, was a meteorite. I know I couldn’t have identified it positively, but I could tell. I didn’t need to identify it. It was a meteorite.

“So?” I said. “Where are the Elders?”

Yonas bent down to look at the stone. “I swear, I saw symbols that I recognized from the before times. They’re gone. I swear they were there when I last checked.”

I knelt down beside the meteor next to Yonas. A soft powder of dust covered it. I examined it closely, not seeing anything special.

And then a small egg burst open and a tiny spider crawled out. Even though it was nothing more than a house spider, it inspired such dread in me that I jumped up and stumbled backwards.

“Holy cow,” I said. “This is an Elder.”

Yonas was on the ground with me. “Kill it, kill it,” he said.

I took off my shoe and, despite the feeling of overwhelming dread, smashed the spider underneath its sole.

“There,” said Yonas.

The feeling of overwhelming dread went away.

“There are more coming,” said Yonas. “More spiders who are the harbinger of the Elders.”

“And we need to gather the dragons,” I said. “They protected this land once, they’ll do it again.” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “And just when I thought that I had gotten everything put together.”

Yonas dug a hole and buried the rock inside of it.

“We should watch this,” he said, “So that no more spiders come out.”

“I think we should just keep it buried,” I said. I backed away. “I think it’s inert now.”

We looked at each other, and then returned to the village. I went up to Moray and the bunch, as they were still eating.

“We have a problem,” I said. “The Elders may be coming back.”

Moray stopped eating mid-bite. “You can’t be serious,” he said.

“I’m very serious,” I said. “I saw one myself. It was only a baby, but …”

Moray stood up. “This is serious. Did you kill the thing?” He paused. “Wait, of course you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“We need to tell more people,” I said. “Claude, can you get on your communicator?”

Claude grabbed her magical comm device. “On it,” she said. She dialed the rest of the Guardians.

We stood there, speechless, for a few moments. Then Yonas spoke.

“A new darkness is about to fall on the world,” he said. “One that hasn’t been seen in a thousand years.”

“And I’d just gotten everything figured out!” I said. I paused. “But, I’m good at one thing. And that’s adapting the technology from my home world into this one. There are things we can use to fight these monsters.”

“Like more guns?” said Canary.

“Exactly,” I said. “Bigger guns. Steel sky ships. Explosives. Everything you would need to wage a war against an interdimensional threat.”

“Then let’s get to it,” said Moray. He walked out of the restaurant.

I followed him.

Moray stopped. “You’ve done for us what no one else ever could have,” he said. “You’ve changed everything. The world is much different than it was a year ago. A year ago, we could not have hoped to be able to defeat the Elders. But now, with you, we are able.” He looked me in the eyes. “You are our savior. You are the one who came here to protect us from the Elders. This I know, in my heart.”

Claude came out of the restaurant next. “Yes,” she said. “Be here in an hour. Bring everything.” She walked up to me, putting her arm on my shoulder. “We’re doing this for you,” she said. “You’re giving us the reason to fight.”

I looked between them. “Thanks, guys,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”

I looked down at the dirt. “But I’m not sure if that will be enough.”

“Enough?” said Claude, a smile on her lips. “I know you. You’ll figure it out like you’ve done a hundred times before.”

Moray slapped me on the back. “I believe in you, Markus Peters.”

End

 

The Alchemist Chapter 39

 

Chapter 39

The first thing we needed to do was zone grids and parcel out land on a basis that would make sense for my economic model. At the moment the houses that were being built were put up pell-mell. I needed to change that before it became cemented as a piece of the city. I didn’t want a winding, narrow street structure like in some cities in Europe. I wanted a clean structure that would be suited for trains and cars.

“We need to order a land survey,” said Reginald. “First things first.”

Reginald called upon several of his civil engineer friends to do the survey work. It took two days, and when it was finished we had an accurate gauge of the lay of the land. I spent half a day working with Reginald on how to lay out the streets.

“There’s something I’ve been working on regarding city planning,” said Reginald. “I call it the Fibonacci layout. Instead of working with grids like you’re planning on doing, we curve the roads relative to the golden ratio.”

I thought for a moment. That was the first brand new idea I had heard in this realm that had nothing to do with magic. Would it work?

“Okay,” I said. “You can have a quarter of the city to draw your Fibonacci streets. We need to work using the scientific method of designing experiments.”

“I was listening when you talked about that a while ago,” said Reginald. He rubbed the dog, Litmus’, ears. “We need both a control, an independent variable, and a dependent variable. The two thirds of the city you design using theories from your world will be the control.”

“And we’re going to have to use various metrics to decide if the experiment creates a significant difference,” I said.

“Exactly,” said Reginald. “It’s great to be around a mind as sharp as yours.”

“Thanks,” I said, “But aren’t you always around people with sharp minds?”

“In a way, yes,” said Reginald. “But people like Moray are afraid to try new things. In a way, they are entrenched in the past. I want to move forward.”

“I respect that,” I said. “That’s the same goal that I have.”

“Then we are together,” said Reginald. “I’ll begin talking to the foremen so that my quarter of the city can be built.”

“I’ll lay out the rest,” I said. I paused. “About walls,” I said. “Should we build one?”

“A year ago I would have said of course,” said Reginald. “But with the invention of cannon …”

“A wall wouldn’t hurt,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Reginald. “But the funds used to construct the wall will come from somewhere. Could we use those resources for a better defense plan?”

“Barbed wire?” I said.

“Hm,” said Reginald. “Explain.”

“Barbed wire is a fence constructed of wire with sharp barbs placed at regular intervals. It stops people crossing it.”

“A little flimsy, it seems,” said Reginald. He played with a small wooden bauble.

“Regi,” said Moray, entering the office. He saw me. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were here. Your vacation is over?”

“It is,” I said. “And I have a new product that I’m going to reveal in a bit.”

Moray sighed. “Of course. You used your vacation to create more inventions.”

“This isn’t an invention. It’s a game. A very fun one.” I paused. “And I’m talking to Reginald about the planning of the city.”

Moray sat down in a chair. “Oh?” he said. “As a simple mathematician, I can leave that stuff to the professional.”

Reginald began tapping his fingers. “We need to expect about twenty thousand new residents in the next six months,” he said. “At the rate people are pouring in. That’s if you don’t do anything to draw more people in. We need housing for all of them. And food, and water.”

“And sewage,” I said. “It would be a lot better to build a sewer now, when the land is open. Let’s build a sewage system capable of handling five hundred thousand people.”

Both scientists looked shocked. “Five hundred …” said Reginald.

Moray whistled. “And how are we going to finance this?” he said.

“I can do the digging,” I said. “My alchemy powers haven’t really factored into designing the city yet, but if you give me a plan, I can do all the digging and covering up. All you have to do is put the sewer together.”

“Why, exactly, do we need a sewer?” said Moray.

Reginald scoffed. “Do you think tossing chamber pots full of waste out onto the street is a sanitary thing?” He looked at me. “Markus has told us that pathogens and disease reside in human waste. A sewer would greatly decrease the number of disease outbreaks in the city.”

“Exactly,” I said. “So let’s build one. Five hundred thousand. I have a feeling even that won’t be enough in a couple of years.”

Moray and Reginald looked at me. “You’re planning big, aren’t you?” said Moray.

“Very big,” I said. “This city will be a metropolis before you know it.”

“But right now it’s a hamlet,” said Moray. “And we have a factory to build.” He stood up. “And the village elders are calling for a more effective government.”

“We’re going to hold an election,” I said.

“An—“said Moray.

“What?” said Reginald.

I looked at them both. “Exactly what I said. An election. As the lord of this land, I need to be at the top since I need to deal with politics outside my land. But I’m going to draft a constitution that includes an elected government, senate, and judicial system.”

“Um,” said Reginald. “Why would you give up your power?”

“I want this city to be a beacon,” I said. “A beacon of not only technology but of democracy. I regret that I have to stay on top, but I’ll mostly be a figurehead. With veto power.” I sat down. “I’ve been thinking on how exactly to draft a constitution.”

“What, exactly, do you mean by constitution?” said Moray.

“I mean a document that outlines how my government will run according principles laid out inside it.”

Moray looked at Reginald. “One thing after another,” he said.

“I’m going to give the elected government the ability to set taxes, set tariffs, and handle citizenship. After all, I can’t be the one who controls everything once this city gets big. It would be too much.”

“So you’re going to write a document,” said Moray.

“I am,” I said. “I’ll draft it now.” I took a pen and some paper.

I wrote down the entire Freedom Hill constitution in four hours. It included a senate, with representatives from each quarter of the planned city. It included a judicial system, with judges appointed by me. It also included a slot for mayor. I would, hopefully, become just a figurehead in the future for this burgeoning town.

Moray read the whole thing over. “You obviously based this off of something,” he said.

“My own country’s constitution,” I said. “And now for the bill of rights.”

I drafted a bill of rights that was identical to the American bill of rights. However, I included a clause that the law of the Royal House, which was above me, must still be abided by. So no second amendment. No free speech when it contradicted the royal decree. I was giving my people as much freedom as possible, but that was only so much. To exact bigger change I would need more influence. I would attain that later.

Once the constitution was drafted, I put in place a clause that the document would come into effect when the town grew to over twenty thousand people. For now, the town was too small to hold a proper election and have a proper government.

We were at around two thousand at the moment. The very next day after drafting the constitution, I began work on the sewers. We had already surveyed the land and knew exactly where the zones for houses would be. Since I wanted to experiment, I decided to use one quarter of the city as a “zone free” space. So that left two quarters as “controls,” where I would do municipal zoning, in addition to the Fibonacci quarter. The fib quarter would also require zoning.

I consulted with Reginald on what should be zoned where. I had played enough Sim City to realize that zoning was important.

We built the sewer over the course of one week. I used my alchemy powers more than I ever had before. Before we knew it, a modern, high capacity sewer had been built that could accommodate, according to Reginald’s calculations, six hundred thousand people.

I also built an aqueduct that brought water from the nearby river to the city, installing a series of pumps. I also fought to put a water treatment plant at the source of our city’s drinking water. Reginald was against it, telling me that it wasn’t necessary.

I managed to convince him one day by building a microscope and showing him the bacteria in untreated water.

The microscope was just good enough to see bacteria. Not very well, but it could be seen. Then Reginald let me install the system. It would take water from the reservoir and use magic to chlorinate it at levels acceptable to humans, just like back on Earth. I made sure to hire a number of staff whose only job was to look after the water purifier plant. I left it to Moray to train them.

The roads were built next. Since my alchemy power was enough to create a concrete-like material, I used it to its full extent. The roads on the three normally gridded quarters were easy to lay out. Each block was about as big as one from New York city. I technically owned the land, though I had to “kick” a few farmers off of their fields. I compensated them handsomely.

Once the city was laid out, I began running advertisements in the Brownfield Times talking about Freedom Hill. I knew people would come to this city on their own, but since I had such a good source of advertisement, it would be a shame not to use it. The town grew steadily.

Then the time came for the paper airplane contest. Moray had managed to convince the paper-parchment guild to host it. We were to throw our airplanes off of the bell tower to the cathedral. A dozen people had entered, and at least a thousand spectators filled the streets.

I had built the exact plane that won the Earth world championships, and held the Earth world record. I copied its formula straight from my smartphone.

I threw my plane and landed in second place. Moray had come up with an ingenious design that looked almost alien, proving again that he was smarter than I was. Which was fine, as he was on my side.

Moray won the prize of a hundred cris, and the paper-parchment guild got its share of advertisement and concessions revenue.

Next up, I decided to institute a baseball league. No one knew how to play yet, so I taught some of the local kids of Freedom Hill.

I commissioned a baseball field in the middle of the city that was about the same as a high school baseball field. We didn’t have the tech to be building baseball fields on the scale from Earth.

Baseball caught on like wildfire. While that was happening, I also taught some people how to play Magic: The Gathering. I had to figure out how to print the cards on a scale large enough to make me money, and I consulted Rachel about it. She eventually came up with a method that would perform to my standards.

We eventually set up an entire factory dedicated to just printing MTG cards. The game was a smash hit.

And so the time flowed, and it was autumn again, a year since I had arrived.

Fort Supermart Chapter 3: Building the Fort

Building the Fort

We stood at both sides of the door. William and I held pistols. Zach stood at the other end of the back room, holding a rifle. Harriot was in the process of moving the pallets again with the forklift.

“Ready?” said Harriot.

“Ready,” I said.

The zombies knocked against the doors.

Harriot moved the pallets. The doors swung open. Two undead creatures staggered in. All three gun holders opened fire. The undead took dozens of bullets to all parts of their body. Finally, one of them fell to the ground. It was too difficult to figure out how we had done it.

The second creature continued to walk towards us. William and I backed up, step by step, saying out of the range of the monster’s grasp.

“Reload!” yelled William, trying to put another clip into his gun. He fumbled and dropped the loaded clip. “Shit,” he said.

“Back away!” said Zach. He continued to fire into the remaining walking dead.

I backed away as well.

Finally the monster dropped. We still couldn’t tell what had done it.

Zach approached the bodies.

“Woah,” said William. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Zach knelt down to the furthest one. “Close the doors,” he said. “There’s more of them, for sure. If they can hear gunshots …”

Harriot closed the doors and pushed several shelves in front of them.

Zach examined the corpse of the furthest creature. “It looks like we hit it dozens of times,” he said. “I still can’t figure out what brought it down, finally.”

“Maybe they have a tolerance for punishment that just gives out when they take enough damage,” said William.

“This isn’t a video game,” said Harriot. “They don’t have health bars.”

William shrugged.

Zach continued to examine the corpse. “It looks like its blood has turned to paste,” he said. “Black paste. It’s disgusting.”

“Don’t touch it,” I said, just as Zach was about to touch the blood.

Zach pulled back his hand. “Good idea,” he said. “We don’t know how communicable the disease is.”

“Were these people alive when we shot them?” said William.

“I sure hope not,” said Zach. He stepped away from the bodies. “We’re going to have to burn these. We can’t risk whatever’s inside of them leeching into the ground water.”

“We can’t burn them in here,” said Harriot. “The smell alone will kill us.”

Zach sighed. “Okay. Once we secure the outside, we can burn them there.”

“And how are we going to do that?” said William.

“We have guns,” said Zach. “And these things do die, eventually.”

“Do we have enough bullets?” said William.

“Plenty, in my car,” said Zach. “I have food too. And medicine, as well as other things.”

“Then let’s secure your car first,” said William.

William and I took positions at the sides of the back garage door. Harriot opened it. Zach peered through as it opened.

When the door was open enough to let someone pass through, it became clear that there were no zombies in the back parking lot.

Zach walked to his truck and took out several ammunition crates. We reloaded our guns. Afterwards, we went around the building to the front parking lot.

The interstate, which was just visible from the parking lot, was a mess of activity. Hundreds of cars sat bumper to bumper in visible range, with thousands more probably spread out through the whole area. The panic was palpable. However, no one seemed to be paying this particular store any heed.

It had been looted, after all. The front plate glass windows were all broken. There were blood stains in the lot and at least a dozen zombies wandering between the remaining cars.

The three of us looked around and then made our way to the empty grass lot to the south of the Supermart. To the north was a small strip mall with a shoe store, a dollar store, and a pizza place, in front of which a car burned. Smoke spiraled up into the sky.

We returned to the back of the store and entered through the garage door.

“It’s too dangerous to burn them now,” said Zach. “We’re just going to have to put up with it.”

“I think I saw someone inside the shoe store,” I said. “Do you think we should try and rescue them?”

“Rescue them, and then what?” said Zach. “We’re in the same situation they are.”

“But we have a plan,” I said. “Did you see those trucks? If we took their payloads and formed a wall with them, we could have a fort on our hands.”

Zach thought for a moment. “That sounds like a crazy plan,” he said, “But it might just be crazy enough to work. We’re going to have to find something to move those payloads with.”

“How about the forklift?” I said. “If we empty the trucks before we use them to build a wall, the forklift could support their weight.”

Zach scratched his chin. “That might just work.”

“There’s still a mess outside,” said William. “You saw all those people! There were hundreds of them. If we try to build a fort now, everyone will notice us.”

“Then we’ll give it a day,” I said. “By tomorrow, everyone will have either left or hunkered down.”

“You’re the man with a plan today, aren’t you?” said Zach.

“I think about these things,” I said.

Zach looked intently at his rifle. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll give it twenty-four hours. If everything calms down around here after that, we’ll begin Mark’s plan. Is everyone in agreement?”

“We’re going to need more manpower,” said William.

“Right,” said Zach. “Having a fort is probably going to be a good attractor. We’ll recruit the people inside the shoe store, and whoever happens to still be around by then.”

“How are we going to deal with the zombies?” said William.

“I have enough guns to kill the ones who are meandering about the lot,” he said.

“We can dedicate a portion of the people to defense when we finally start building,” I said.

“Good idea,” said Zach. He looked between the three of us. “Before we build a fort out there, we have to clear the store front. If we arrange the shelving right we can build a wall where the plate glass façade used to be.”

“I’m staying here,” said Harriot. “It’s too dangerous outside. And these monsters. They don’t die.”

“If we hit them enough they will,” said Zach. “We’ve proved that.”

“But we might run out of ammo,” said Harriot.

“We won’t,” said Zach. “I have enough ammunition in my truck to hold a sustained firefight.”

William and I looked at each other, and nodded.

“There’s still one zombie left inside the shop,” said William. “Last I checked.”

“There could be more,” said Zach. “We go in prepared. The gunshots will probably attract more. We’re going to have to build that barricade fast.” Zach paused. “You two get the makeshift barrier up. I’ll hold off the beasts.” He cocked his rifle. This one, a different one, had the distinct look of an assault rifle. I was no gun buff, but with that thing having my back, I would go in confidently.

“Is that thing even legal?” said Harriot.

“It’s been grandfathered,” said Zach, with a wink. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Zach, William, and I entered the store proper. The third zombie was ambling about the lingerie aisle. Unsurprisingly, the looters had not stolen all of it. I mean, what are you supposed to do with bras and undies in a crisis like this?

William and I approached from different sides.

Zach opened fire. The gun chattered with an explosion of sound. The zombie, hit at least a dozen times, staggered backwards. However, it still stood.

William grabbed a baseball bat from a rack in the nearby sports section and rushed the beast. He smashed it in the head, causing it to spin, and then continued hitting it until the skull split open and brains spilled out. The brains, surprisingly, were a deep red color that resembled, not blood, but some sort of jam paste.

“That’s not a normal brain,” said Zach, as he approached the body. His motions were careful, deliberate.

“Don’t touch it,” said William.

“Cleanup on aisle twelve,” I said, deadpan.

William and Zach stared at me.

“What?” I said.

Zach shook his head. The three of us approached the broken plate glass windows at the store’s front. Five zombies were heading towards the opening from the parking lot.

“I’ll hold them off!” said Zach, taking aim.

William and I dragged as many shelves as we could to block out the broken plate glass windows. My heart beat with heavy thumps as the gunshots rang out around us.

We managed to get all the glass facades walled off in about ten minutes. During that time, Zach seemed to have spent at least a crate of ammunition, and made enough noise to wake the dead. I could see hoards of zombies approaching the store.

“You might not have enough ammo to deal with that,” said William. He grabbed a number of shopping carts. “Help me build a bigger wall,” he said.

“How much ammo do you have left?” I yelled, back at Zach.

“Plenty!” returned Zach. He continued to shoot.

Eventually the hoard of zombies thinned out as Zach continued to mow them down. Each zombie took dozens of bullets to bring down. If they were all this tough, then how would we survive?

Finally the gunshots petered out and we had a relatively calm parking lot to look out over. William sat down and sighed a huge sigh of relief. The piles of bodies only spoke to Zach’s skill with a rifle.

The store we were at had a classic Supermart build. An entrance on each of the north and south sides, each one containing about twelve meters of plate glass and automatic door. Both entrances were now heavily blocked with shopping carts, shelves, and anything else we could find.

Zach lowered his gun and approached us. “Do you think we should try and save the people in the other stores?” he said.

“Let’s go,” I said. “We need more manpower to make my plan a reality.”

“I’m sorry,” said William. “I can’t go with you. I’m too, um, too shaky.”

“A normal stress response,” said Zach. “Don’t worry. I don’t think less of you.”

I looked at Zach. “Let’s get going.”

Zach and I went back through the employee entrance and left the store via the back doors, as the front doors were barricaded. We went around the store to the north and came to the front of the shoe store. Paymore Shoes. I looked inside and saw at least a dozen people hunkering down between the rows of shoes.

We knocked. The people looked at us. Zach gave them a thumbs-up. They came to the front and removed the barricade on the side of the door.

“Hey,” said Zach. “We’re here to help.”

The man who opened the door looked about as afraid as one would expect.

“Do you have any experience with a forklift?” I said. “Or a CDL?”

“Yeah,” said the man. He pointed to one of the dozens of trucks in the lot. “That one’s mine.”

“We’re planning on building a fort,” I said. “Can you help us?”

“Of course,” said the man. He looked around. “My name is Aron. I’m willing to help.”

I looked at Zach. “You take care of these people. I’m going to check on the other stores.”

In the end we had about thirty people who were hunkered down in the various shops. Zach distributed guns to those who seemed the most put together, and then we grabbed the three forklifts that we were able to find. We began building the fort right away, covering the entire parking lot, behind the buildings, and the empty lot to the south.

By the end of the day we would have ourselves a fort.

The Alchemist Chapter 38

 

Chapter 38

I had a compass built in five minutes with my alchemy power. I showed it to Moray.

“That’s not north,” said Moray. “As far as I can tell, that’s southwest.”

“But it’s true magnetic north,” I said. “A different thing from your map’s north.”

“So, what are you saying?” said Moray. “Are we going to rewrite every map ever made?”

“Maybe not,” I said. “Now that we know which direction the compass points in, we can just take note and call it a south west compass.”

“So it points to the same place no matter where you are?” said Moray. He turned around while the compass was in his hands. “Interesting,” he said. “This will aid navigation more than you can imagine.”

“Oh, I can imagine it,” I said. “Compasses were necessary for ocean travel in my world.”

“And you said you had no sky ships, but rather, um, aero planes?”

“Airplanes,” I said. “They were invented a hundred years ago compared to when I was born. They go fast. There is no magic in my world, so we never had sky ships. Well, we had dirigibles, but those worked through hydrogen, not magic metal …”

“Ah, this is the first time I’ve heard this,” said Moray. “Your world had no magic?”

“No,” I said. “None at all.”

“And yet you managed to create things that almost seem like magic,” said Moray.

“Yeah,” I said. “There’s that thing I’ve told you about. The scientific method.”

“You’ve gone on and on about that,” said Moray. “Hypothesis experiment, observation.”

“It’s very important for the improvement of technology,” I said. “I can’t be the only one who provides this world with high tech.”

Moray clapped his hands together. “Okay. I understand now.” He paused. “About the paper airplane contest.”

“Yes?” I said.

“Can you teach me some more ways to make them? I know you have more than a couple that you’d be able to teach me.”

“Of course,” I said. “I can also teach you origami.”

“Yeah, that,” said Moray. “What a strange name. Ori-gami.”

“It means folding paper in Japanese, a language from my home world.”

Moray nodded. “Ah, yes. You never mentioned it but I assumed.”

“That there are other languages where I come from?”

“Exactly,” said Moray. “You were granted fluency in this tongue by a god, but learning others may prove difficult. Does this have something to do with the development of the, uh, brain?”

“Yes,” I said. “If language is not picked up during childhood, then the opportunity is lost. You can’t learn a language to full fluency after age eight, and you’ll never lose your accent if you learn it after thirteen.”

“Weird, how that works,” said Moray.

“Even in my world we don’t understand that function of human psychology,” I said. “And I took a psychology class in my first year of university.”

“Tell me about yourself,” said Moray. “I haven’t heard about what your life was like back home.” He sat down on a rocky waist-high wall. We had disembarked from the carriage a while ago, before I made my compass. I sat down next to him.

“Well, in my world, kids go to school at the age of five and don’t stop until they’re eighteen.”

“Who handles all the farm work, then?” said Moray.

“We have things called combine tractors. They can harvest in a single hour what a hundred men can do in a week.”

Moray whistled. “That’s a lot of food,” he said.

“Only one percent of the people on planet Earth are actually involved in farming. As opposed to,” I paused to calculate, “About seventy percent here.”

Moray whistled. “And you have things called trains?” he said.

“They’re beasts of iron,” I said. “Very inspiring. They bow to no one. The natives of the continent of America called them the “iron horse.” I think that name is fitting.” I shrugged. “We measure the power of our automobiles using horsepower. An average automobile from my era has the power of three hundred to five hundred horses.”

Moray chuckled. “And I thought our steam engine was spectacular. How do you get enough steam to run these automobiles?”

“They don’t run on steam,” I said. “They run on internal gasoline combustion.” I shifted.

Moray shook his head. “We’ve become distracted. That’s what I find strange about you. You’re always willing to talk about technology, but you never tell me about yourself. How were your parents? Do you miss them?”

“I’ve been working too hard to miss anyone,” I said. “Though I suppose I miss my parents and my brothers a lot more than I realize at the moment.”

“That’s the thing I’m worried about,” said Moray. “You’re alone. No one else here in this realm knows what you do. You’re sitting in a backwards, superstitious, dark time where your brilliance will only illuminate the growing darkness.”

“And I’ll keep working until I illuminate it all,” I said. “But you’re right. I need to think better about myself.”

“Exactly,” said Moray. “You need to stop pushing yourself so hard.”

I looked off into the distance. “I just want to keep going until I achieve what I want,” I said. “And I’m not stopping until I do.”

“You keep repeating that sentiment,” said Moray. “You’re the most hard-working person I know. Every day you give it your all. I want to know why you’re that way.”

“Because I have a mission,” I said. “A mission to bring technology to this world. To defeat the demon king. To bring an end to injustice.”

Moray sighed. “You’re on a hopeless crusade, then,” he said. “Suffering will always exist. So will injustice. All you’re going to do if you create a utopia is shift the injustice elsewhere.” He paused. “I respect you for your scientific mind. I just don’t know if I can keep pushing you so hard.”

“You’re not pushing me,” I said. “I’m doing all this because I’m pushing myself.”

“And you don’t need the extra mile I’m giving,” said Moray. “I’ve worked tirelessly to ease your transition into this world. I don’t expect you to thank me for it, but I do expect you to take it easy now and then.”

“Okay,” I said. “How do you suggest that?”

“Spend a couple of days pursuing a hobby,” said Moray. “Doing something that doesn’t have an impact on your finances and won’t cause anyone to push you to produce more.”

I knew exactly what I was going to do with this spare time.

“I’m going to get together with Rachel and all your other administrative staff to run things while you’re gone. Go lock yourself in a room and write a book if you have to. But stop doing crazy things to this world with your crazy inventions.”

I smiled. “I’ll go now,” I said. I stood up and returned to the keep. Claude, who was watching my conversation with Moray from a distance, approached me.

“What were you talking about?” asked Claude.

“Moray and I were talking about giving me some time off,” I said.

“You need it,” said Claude. “I need it too.”

“I’m  going to need a playtester,” I said.

“Play … Tester?” said Claude.

“Yeah, for the game I’m going to make. It’s going to be a total rip-off of Magic: The Gathering but there’s no copyright here so I can do what I want.”

“Sounds interesting,” said Claude. “I’m in.

“I have some piles of paper and a cutting tool in my room. Let’s go and create some fun card games.”

“I thought you already created a fun card game, though,” said Claude.

“That was a playing card game,” I said. “This is a trading card game. You own the pieces to the deck that you build, and you construct your own deck …” I paused. “Come on. I’ll show you what I mean.” I walked to my room and started cutting out squares of paper with a knife.

Moray leaned into the room through the door. “And don’t worry about the paper plane contest,” he said. “I’ll get everything set up with all the proper permits. If things work out we’ll schedule the thing for next week.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Thanks,” said Claude.

I got to work putting together some cards that I remembered from Magic: The Gathering. Black Lotus, the Moxen, and the power nine were first. And then I took out my smartphone and began to copy down the cards that I wanted Claude to experience first.

Once I had a rough deck put together, I played my first game with Claude, teaching her how to play as we went along. Claude put her hand of cards down during the second game.

“We can make a lot of money selling these cards, can’t we?” she said. “However, there’s one big problem.”

“Literacy, right?” I said.

“Exactly,” said Claude. “Only the nobility knows how to read at a level required to play this game.”

“Then we can market it to them in the meantime while I try and raise the literacy rate. Being able to play this game will probably make literacy a lot more appealing, just like the newspaper.”

“I’ve thought of that, too,” said Claude. “Even on your days off you’re still thinking about inventing and changing society. I admire that about you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a can of cola. It had clearly been reused, which was the obvious choice since I was the only one with the ability to create pure aluminum. She took a long draught. Then she locked eyes with me. “You’re strange,” she said. She leaned back. “So very strange.”

“I don’t try to be,” I said.

“But you still are,” said Claude. “And look at where we are now.” She flicked the light bulb hanging in the room, powered by electricity from the steam engine generator. She sat back up. “Let’s play another game,” she said.

We played more games after that, as I created a list of cards that I would include in the game’s first print run. I didn’t even have to come up with any cards myself, as I had access to the entire catalog through my smartphone.

I also spent a few hours speaking with the Oracle, learning more about his mission, which he knew very little about. I also thought about the floppy disc given to me by Yonas. The Elders’ attack had been staved off since I had saved the dragons, but who’s to say they wouldn’t attack my home world of Earth any time soon?

I spent my days off in relative quiet. When my vacation was over, I went right back to work.

“Right there, right there,” I said, as I watched a piece of equipment being lowered into place on the factory floor. One of the assembly lines, the one that made guns, was fully operational. The other two lines, cannons and fiber armor, needed a bit more tuning before they would be open to workers.

I watched the hundred people we had working on producing guns. Since the declaration of the special economic zone, the hamlet had grown from a small town of four hundred to a staggering two thousand. A new house went up every hour on the hour. Shops were popping up everywhere. Freedom Hill was a boom town.

I took a walk through the streets. I needed to talk to Moray about proper city planning. Before the town cemented its collection of game trails as main streets, we would need to plan this place out. We needed a sewer, paved roads, and plumbing. I knew who I had to contact.

“Reginald!” I said, coming into his office. “I know you’re a civil engineer. Can you help me with a few problems?”

Reginald sat up from his reclining position. “Yes?” he said.

“I want Freedom Hill to be a shining beacon of modern city planning,” I said. “Can you help me?”

“Of course,” said Reginald. “Anything to further this experiment of yours.”

And so we started planning.

The Alchemist Chapter 37

 

Chapter 37

The first steam engine prototype was up and running in a week. It took another week before the prototype was working correctly, well enough to run a power station on. The boilers needed to be constantly fed throughout the day, though, but I was just happy to be able to charge the Oracle from a natural power source.

Since we weren’t advanced enough to use transformers and various electrical circuitry, the light bulbs in Freedom Hill had a tendency to flicker.

The school house was completed a day after we started up the power generation plant. Moray and the scientists moved in, and all the thirty children under the age of eighteen were made to attend. Moray and the scientists spent their free time working on their research, which I sponsored. Among all this, I continued to give lectures at the Royal Society. We were getting closer to the limit of my high school learning. Soon I would have to prepare the material by doing research—which was much easier than if I didn’t know anything at all.

But I did have a smartphone with connection to the internet, after all. It was my trump card. I could learn about anything that my world had done.

I made a proposal to Moray one day about a week after the construction of the school house.

“A paper airplane contest?” said Moray, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I said. “We’ll have people from all over build paper airplanes and see whose will fly the furthest.”

“I think that would be great,” said Moray. “But you’re going to have to negotiate with the parchment-paper guild.”

The guild previously known as the “parchment guild” had recently been renamed to the “parchment-paper guild.”

“Sure,” I said. “Getting their permission will be easy. I suppose we do have to follow tradition at some point, eventually.”

“Let’s take a tour of the factory,” said Moray, standing up from his desk. The factory was still in the process of being tuned for use. Currently, we were manufacturing guns, cannons, and fiber steel armor. Three wings in the building were designed for the three branches of our manufacturing business. Kerosene and oil cracking were done in a different facility.

We entered the factory, which was bustling with activity. There were at least a dozen workers doing various jobs around the floor. They weren’t actually making product yet, as we had not set up all the assembly lines.

I met with Barns, who was directing a number of workers hoisting a heavy piece of shelf. He turned to greet me.

“Lord Peters,” he said, bowing. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“We’re just making sure everything is going according to schedule,” I said.

“Very well,” said Barns. “I am doing my utmost to make sure everyone works their hardest.”

“Good,” I said, “But make sure to take your breaks. I could get sued if you guys don’t.”

“Sued?” said Barns. “Why?”

“It was a deadpan joke,” I said.

No one laughed. Not even me. I sighed. “Okay, forget it. Just make certain that they have enough time to eat their lunches.”

“Aye aye,” said Barns. He turned. “Get to working, you slobs!”

Oh well. Instilling the values of a postmodern service-based economy onto a medieval work force building an industrial era factory was a moot hope. If only.

Moray and I walked through the rest of the factory, inspecting the progress. At this rate we would be able to open for business within the week. We left the factory and headed to the oil cracking warehouse.

The oil fields outside the warehouse were still producing a large amount of the black sticky stuff. We entered the warehouse; it smelled of chemicals. Of course, it was an oil refinery run by magicians.

“Is everyone wearing masks like I ordered?” I said, as I entered.

Several people quickly donned their cloth masks. I sighed. “Look,” I said. “This is for your own good. If you don’t wear masks you could suffer lung, nerve, and brain damage.”

“Yes, sir,” said one of the foremen.

I tapped the man on the head with a rolled-up piece of paper. “Don’t forget it. The health of these men depends on your adherence to my guidelines.”

“Yes, sir,” said the foreman.

I paused. “And I’ll dock your pay ten cris per person I catch not wearing a mask.”

“Yes, sir,” said the foreman, now much more motivated. “Get yer masks on, ye fallow wizards!”

I put my hands behind my back and turned around.

Moray frowned. “Why are you going to such lengths?” he said. “First you order your workers to not work on your dime. Then you threaten the foreman because some workers were not wearing masks? Why?”

“When you come from a post industrial society like I do, you understand the human suffering that can be caused by poor working conditions,” I said. “I’m protecting them. The breaks are to keep them sane. The masks are to keep them healthy. I don’t care if it costs me more. The well being of my workers is my utmost priority.”

“You’re a strange one when it comes to this,” said Moray. “But I can’t say I don’t like it. You really do care about everyone who works for you.”

I paused. “How is teaching coming along?” I asked.

“The younger children tend to take to reading better than the older students,” said Moray. “In a complete contradiction to how I imagined it being.”

“Ah, yes,” I said. “I haven’t done many talks on psychology. Young children are more impressionable, which means that they absorb information much easier and quicker than older people.”

“I could have understood that,” said Moray. “But why do the seventeen-year-olds get so rebellious when I try to teach them their numbers?”

“Tell them that the numbers are to help them make money,” I said. “Everyone needs to know numbers if they plan on doing business.”

“A good strategy,” said Moray. “But I know you understand the underlying theory.”

“See, an older person’s brain is more developed,” I said.

“Don’t you mean their heart?” said Moray.

“Um, no,” I said. “The brain is the center of executive function.”

“Now that’s a surprise,” said Moray. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because that is such basic knowledge in my sphere that I didn’t think you’d know any different.”

“Hm,” said Moray. “What else is common knowledge for you that would be revolutionary to me?”

“Um, light moves,” I said.

Moray raised an eyebrow. “And how—wait, my heart hurts.” He paused. “I mean my brain.”

“Also,” I said, “Objects accelerate downward at nine point eight meters per second.”

“Meter?” said Moray.

“About ten toms,” I said.

“Oh,” said Moray. “So, downward objects accelerate?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Also, if you drop a big ball and a soft ball of different weights and sizes from the same height they will hit the ground at the same time.”

“Prove it,” said Moray.

I grinned. “Is there somewhere tall we can drop stuff off of?” I asked.

Moray seemed to be bit with the same fever I was. “Of course,” he said. “I can get us access to the bell tower. We’re going to need some witnesses, of course.”

“I’ll find a cannon ball and a small rock. You go find the scientists. We’ll convene here in ten minutes and I’ll call my carriage.”

Ten minutes later everything was ready for our expedition into Brownfield to drop stuff off the bell tower. Jones, Canary, and Reginald were coming with us, along with Litmus the dog.

We took off along the road until we came to Brownfield. There, we traveled through the streets until we came to the church’s bell tower.

We knocked on the door to the church. Fey Grimes answered.

“It’s not time for worship,” he said. “Please come back—” he paused. “Ah, come in, come in,” he said. “You’re important guests. Why are you here?”

“We’re here to test a hypothesis,” said Moray. “About falling objects.”

Fey Grimes rubbed his hands together. “I, uh, I don’t know how I can help you with that …”

“We need access to the bell tower,” said Moray.

“Yes, of course, of course,” said Fey Grimes. He looked very fidgety. “Right this way.” He led us to a small door that opened into the bell tower’s interior. I looked up at the rows of stairs spiraling up. I was going to have to carry a cannonball up there. I had always been a bit afraid of heights.

But we started up anyways. Reginald and Jones stayed below to see when the objects struck the ground. Moray, Canary, and I brought the materials up to the top.

We made it to the pinnacle and stood at the bell tower’s edge. I held out both objects, one in each hand. The cannonball was heavy but I could barely manage.

“One, two, three,” I said. I dropped both objects at the same time.

They hit the ground at exactly the same instant. The world was silent for a moment.

“Damn!” said Reginald, loud enough for me to hear up at the bell tower’s top.

“Damn,” said Moray, muttering under his breath. “It worked.”

“This is called the scientific method, ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “Proving that objects that are different sizes fall at the same speed and acceleration. Newton be damned.”

Moray sighed. “As always,” he said. “You’re right.”

I pumped my fist. “Okay,” I said. “Will this make you more likely to believe me next time I say something?”

“Hah,” said Moray, snorting. “We’ll see about that.”

We climbed down from the bell tower. When I got to the bottom, I saw Yonas standing at the door to the church.

“Heya!” I said. “How are you?”

“Good,” said Yonas. “I came here because I caught wind of a peculiar science experiment.”

“They fell at the same speed,” said Moray. “Even though they were different sizes.”

“Now that’s something entertaining,” said Yonas. “I’ll be sure to write about that in the paper.”

“You do that,” I said. “It’s what I’m paying you for, anyways.” I shook his hand.

Yonas saluted and then returned to the shop.

Just as Rachel came turning around the corner. “What have you gotten into now?” she said.

I shrugged. “Just a little physics experiment,” I said.

Moray’s eyes still contained excitement. “He proved through demonstration that gravity affects objects of different size and weight the same.”

Rachel tilted her head. “And?” she said.

Moray frowned. “Ah, yes. You’re not an academic like us.”

I put my hand on Moray’s shoulder. “Don’t look down on her. Eventually we’ll change that distinction so that everyone knows at least something.”

Moray sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I suppose that’s what you’re paying me to do.”

We turned around. “I’ll be seeing you later, Rachel,” I said. We returned to the carriage and got inside.

Jones was still chuckling. “I can’t believe it,” he said.

“I’ll teach you the calculus behind that when we get back to Freedom Hill,” I said. “Two thousand years of mathematics condensed into a single lesson.”

“Please do,” said Moray. “I want to learn more about this calculus of yours.”

“Well, scratch that,” I said. “We need to build a strong foundation in the basic maths. Right now you’re at about the level a tenth grader in my world would be at. We still have algebra two and pre calculus.”

Moray sighed. “Okay, I’ll bear with it,” he said. His fingers tapped anxiously against the plush seat. “What more do you know?”

“Oh, I haven’t showed you a compass yet, have I?” I said.

“Compass?” said Moray.

“Ah, exactly,” I said. “It’s a device that aligns itself with the world’ magnetic field, telling you at all times what direction is north.”

Moray’s mood seemed to shift. “Show me,” he said.

 

Fort Supermart Chapter 2: Panic

 

Panic

The Supermart was packed. More so than any Black Friday I’d ever seen. People were going crazy, and the lines at the registered stretched for dozens of people.

I had a plan. The people who were smart would make themselves known by staying out of the fray.

I drove around to the store’s back and parked at the edge of the empty lot behind the Supermart. I got a coworker named William to open the door for me and let me through.

A gunshot went off inside the shop floor and everyone began to panic even more. I could hear it through the locked employee only doors.

“How are the people operating the registers?” I asked.

William shook his head. “Not good,” he said. “They’re being swamped. One more push and everyone will start rioting.”

The push came two minutes later. A loud rumble began throughout the shop and people began to scream.

There was a knock at the employee door and William unlocked it for a split second to pull a coworker in. He closed it two seconds later, just before the shoppers pushed through.

The coworker was a woman named Harriot. She had several cuts on her face.

“It’s mayhem out there,” she said. “There’s some people who I think have African Rabies. They’re attacking the shoppers.”

“Barricade the door,” I said. I went to the storage room and hopped onto the forklift, using it to bring two pallets full of soda boxes against the doors.

“What about the workers still out there?” said Harriot, clearly distressed.

“They’ll have to survive,” I said. “Once everyone loots this place, we’ll see if they’re still alive.”

“Harsh,” said William. But it was clear that he agreed with me.

“We need to keep stock of all the food we have back here,” I said.

“Wait, why?” said Harriot. “The government will help us out before things get too crazy.”

I shook my head. “We shouldn’t trust that they will,” I said. “This African Rabies thing may be more than the government can handle.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said William. “Not in movies, not in books. I can’t believe this is real.”

I looked out the small glass panel between soda can pallets and watched the chaos on the shop floor.

“We’re going to survive,” I said.

More gunshots went off. There was a knock on the back garage door.

“Mark!” said a familiar voice.

“Open the garage doors,” I said. “Just enough to let someone in.”

William opened the doors with the control button, and Zach, the old man from last night, entered. He was carrying a golf bag full of guns. “I have food in my car,” he said.

“No time,” I said. “Close the door. We can get the food later when things calm down.”

Zach took a pistol out and handed it to me, grip first. “Take this,” he said.

“I don’t know how to use these,” I said.

“Point and shoot,” said Zach. “No, really. This is an easy-to-use beginner’s gun. It has very little recoil and doesn’t need much maintenance.”

I took the gun, examining it. “Okay?” I said.

William came up to us. “Who’s this?” he said.

“The name is Zachariah,” said Zach. “You may call me Zach.”

“You have guns,” said William. “I think that’s good.”

More gunshots went off in the front. I looked nervously at the pallets blocking the employee entrance.

“They’re rioting out there,” said Harriot. “People are dying.”

“What do you suggest we do?” said William. “If we go out there, they’re going to kill us too.”

Zach brought out a small handheld radio.

William brought out his smartphone. “This will work better, old man,” he said.

Zach held up his hand. “Trust me,” he said. He dialed the radio to a news channel.

“It looks like there are thousands of people on the run,” said the announcer. “They’re filling the interstate. Guns everywhere. Whoa, was that a gasoline explosion?”

“Looks like we’re not the only ones experiencing panic,” said Zach.

“It looks like everyone wants out!” said the announcer. “People are calling this the “great panic.” I don’t know anything about African Rabies, but I do know a riot when I see one!” There was a pause. “Is that—is that man eating another person? I see it! There are two—ten—is that a hundred? It looks like there are a hundred of them! They’re staggering like they’re drunk! Is this African Rabies? God help us all!”

Zach frowned. “You were right, Mark,” he said. “Everything really is going to shit.”

“Get us in closer!” said the announcer. “My god. They‘re eating other people. They’re monsters! Wait, wait! I just saw one take a bullet to the chest! It didn’t react! Holy ***!”  There was only the noise of a helicopter. “I’m just a traffic reporter,” said the man. “I’m not qualified for this.”

Zach turned the radio off. “I think I’ve heard everything I need to,” he said. “For now, it’s best we save its battery.”

William showed me something on YouTube. “Look,” he said. It was a closeup of one of the infected eating another person. It was disgusting and horrifying. “They’re monsters.” The next video showed an infected getting shot several times by police officers but not going down.

“This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Zach, who was also watching the smartphone. “I wouldn’t trust this device in a pinch, but it does do wonders.”

“Yeah,” said William. “My battery’s only at a quarter.”

“Charge it now,” I said. “I don’t know how much electricity we’ll have in the near future.”

William nodded, and plugged his charger in.

“This won’t be much use to us for long,” I said. I looked around. “We’re going to stay here until things calm down out there. What do you say?”

“We’re already doing it,” said William. “I won’t argue with you. You obviously know what you’re doing.”

“Right,” I said. “I’ve been daydreaming about this happening forever.”

“Daydreams?” said William.

“Which is what all people should be doing,” said Zach. “Daydreaming about the apocalypse will help you when it does happen.”

“Which is now, I suppose,” said William.

“Do you really think so?” asked Harriot.

“Of course, we can’t really tell at the moment,” said William. “But my gut says it. Things are going to get bad.”

We sat for two hours. After half an hour, Zach turned the radio back on. Things had gotten worse, even in that short of a time. The announcer had a clear tone of panic in his voice. We listened for ten minutes before Zach turned it back off.

Zach was a bastion of serenity. While Harriot and William were beginning to panic, Zach brought the whole group an amount of security. I spent the time deep in thought, imagining how I would defend against a horde of deranged cat people.

Or African Rabies patients. I didn’t really understand why I was thinking like that, but it helped me stay calm and concentrate. We needed to find a way to move the trucks that were perpetually parked in the Supermart parking lot. We needed a fort, and that was the easiest way I could think of building one.

The chaos inside the store reached a fever pitch three hours after I arrived for my shift. The manager, Kyle, was scheduled to be at the store an hour previous. He hadn’t shown up.

What with the chaos in the streets, it wasn’t a surprise. I had gotten lucky to miss the major panic as I drove here. I hoped that Devin was doing all right. He had decided to stay home, after all.

The chaos began to quiet down two hours later. An hour after that, the store was silent. I approached the barricaded door.

“Let’s move the pallets,” I said. “Make sure you’re able to put them back as soon as possible.” I held the gun that Zach had given me.

The pallets were removed. I pushed my way through the doors and found a barren, trash-covered wasteland. The shelves had been ravaged. Barely anything was left of value. Blood stains were splashed against every third shelf. I caught sight of several bodies.

Three figures were meandering about the checkout counters. I approached them, holding my gun close.

They noticed me and turned. One of them had its arm shot off. The other two were obviously in a state of decay.

I aimed my gun as I continued to approach. “Hello?” I said.

One of the people opened their mouth and groaned. It began to stagger towards me. The other two heard him and also began to stagger near.

“Hold it,” I heard Zach say, as a gunshot rang out. The first person took a bullet to the stomach and didn’t even flinch. It continued to approach, as if nothing had happened.

“Shoot!” yelled Zach. “Shoot!”

I fired off three shots in quick succession. Two missed, the third hit a person in the neck. Again, not as much as a flinch.

“Back up!” said Zach.

We began backing away from the staggering beasts. Eventually I broke and ran back towards the doors. Zach was not far behind.

We entered the back.

“Barricade the door!” yelled Zach. “Now!”

William used the forklift to barricade the doors like before. Zach and I sat on the ground, heaving. I threw up. Zach looked pale, as if he had seen a ghost.

Well, what we had seen was worse than ghosts. They were people, yes, but they hadn’t reacted to being shot in their vitals.

Zach wiped his mouth. “What the hell do you think those things were?”

“That’s African Rabies,” said William. “I looked up more vids. Apparently they don’t react to being shot or stabbed. They’re invincible.”

“They can’t be!” said Zach. “They have to have a weakness. Quick, son, use your smart device thingy and figure out a way to kill them.”

“Kill them?” said Harriot. “Why would we do that?”

“You didn’t see them,” said Zach. “They were clearly possessed. Maybe already dead. The undead.” Zach shivered. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

“Voodoo,” said William. “There’s a concept in voodoo, where a human is raised from the dead. They call it, a, um, I think it was …”

“Zombie,” said Harriot. “That’s what it was.”

“Yeah, Zombie,” said William. “That’s it.”

“And now these zombies are real?” said Zach.

“You saw it,” said William.

“Clear enough,” said Zach. “They have to have a weakness.”

“But we can’t go back out there until we know what it is,” I said.

There was a thump against the barricaded door.

“They’re here,” said William. “Maybe they followed you.”

“How smart do you think they are?” said Harriot.

“They didn’t look too intelligent,” said Zach. He scratched his chin, a move that was clearly an anxious tick. “They looked blank. Like there was nothing inside those heads.”

“Then maybe they really aren’t alive,” said William.

Another knock sounded against the door. William jumped. “Shit,” he said. “They’re scaring me now.”

“As they should,” said Zach. “Apparently African Rabies is transmitted through bites.”

“Bites?” said William. “Not blood? Not coughing?”

“Blood, yes, maybe also,” said Zach. “But there’s something we’re missing here. Something critical. Something that could cause our deaths if we don’t find out what it is.”

“You’re just theorizing, old man,” said William. “They’re just people who have, um, taken too much PCP.”

“It’s not that,” I said. “Like I told you. They took bullets to their vitals and didn’t slow down.”

“Exactly!” said William. “You know that happens with PCP and bath salts, right?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Look,” I said. “I know exactly as much as you do about those people out there. But I saw them. They aren’t high on drugs. They may already be dead. They may be undead.”

William frowned. “I don’t know either. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

“We’re going to have to fight them eventually,” said Zach. He cocked his gun. “So let’s try and see if we can do anything about it.”