Chapter 101: Efficiency

Chapter 101: Efficiency

You are me? My soul? Part of my soul? What the hell are you talking about?!

Think about it a bit. Most medical exams can’t detect me. Even a Level Seven Exorcist that has a massive hate boner for Starbrite has to really focus to see me. I can move around inside the bounds of your body and can easily interface with both your mind and your soul. Even your spell apertures. Bypassing all the usual defenses and resistances you would have to possession. And I only grow stronger, and the System’s hold on you grows firmer, the more your soul develops. Which should really be the opposite if I’m just a demon lurking in you.

Truth had the image of the Sprite pacing around and waving.

But wait, there’s more! The System, both directly and, yes, through me, trained you to be obedient without needing much, if any, magical compulsion. Most of what it does, a manipulative human can do. Think- the only time you were really magically compelled to do things was when you killed those civilians trying to surrender and when you were ordered to suicide. And even the civilians was more of a nudge than a forcible compulsion. AND when you were forced to suicide, it was me doing most of the heavy lifting!

He could see the little blue-haired monster throwing its hands up in frustration.

Someone had to micro-control your neurons and keep you fighting effectively without letting you run away. Not to mention that having a chunk of your soul FORCIBLY TEAR OUT OF YOU would be a pretty impressive deterrent to disobedience. But I’m betting that it almost never had to use that deterrent because of all the other stuff. All the basic human social control stuff. It was more than enough to keep you obedient and productive.Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.

The mission rewards. The “Ding!” Truth thought about it a bit longer. Actually, you wouldn’t even need the System for a lot of it, would you? Just the hierarchy. Want to get out of the Slums? Be exactly who Starbrite needs you to be. Want to get better opportunities for your friends and family? Get ready to give that 110%. Want a lover, want better food, better opportunities? More power? Then don’t ask questions and make yourself useful.

Truth chuckled bitterly. He wasn’t even seeing the storeroom at this point, lost in his memories. I sure gave them my 110%. It’s no wonder they could keep the compulsions secret. Everyone would look at this and think, “Oh, that’s just how that company is. Really unified, motivated employees.”

The phrase you are looking for is “Corporate Culture.” and yes, exactly this.

Truth laughed as he pulled himself up out of the corner. That’s fucking hilarious. All the really nefarious stuff is just management best practices. Even from the System’s point of view- why go through the trouble of constantly splitting off bits of yourself and regrowing when you can just... what, exactly? How did the system make “You?”

I don’t know. Best guess? You were anesthetized by that yellow glowy thing. Basically numbed your soul enough that when you swore in, a big underlying spell formation could carve off a bit of you and stamp in some special rules. Reshape part of your soul to be capable of handling the spells, to be the System’s little agent inside of you. That section just getting more and more powerful as you level up. The System’s control getting more and more complete.

What like... Truth scrambled around for a metaphor, Like stamping a pattern on sheet metal without cutting it out of the bigger piece of metal?

More or less, I guess. Another thought occurred to me- the simplified spells. Because even with modification, there is a limit to my ability to process new information, right? I’m still part of you, just reshaped for a specific purpose. Making the spells dirt simple, if underpowered, actually works better. You can get soldiers in the field with a fraction of the development time. Look how long it’s taking you to learn Incisive. Top-notch spell. A long learning time is expected, sure. But even with daily tuition by an expert, you still aren’t completely competent with the spell. But if I can train and field a hundred soldiers in the time it takes you to learn your one awesome spell...

Quantity has a quality all of its own. Yeah. Especially when those hundred soldiers are very tactically flexible, with high discipline and morale. Whatever spell they need, whenever they need it. So the losses they would have against a conventional military would be limited. In fact, they would probably win overwhelmingly most of the time.

And, of course, you are based out of Jeon, which has mandatory national service. So, basically, free training and indoctrination.

Truth started walking the halls again. More slowly now. Really looking at the carvings. Feeling the texture of the walls. Appreciating just how real it all felt. It was literally more real than he was. If only just. He kept hoping to run into some secret hidden library or the sanctum of an old master or something. So far, it was just storage and janitorial stuff. Fingers crossed.

So... where does that leave us? I assume you aren’t going to have “Escape Truth Medici” as your big goal now.

Not so much, no. And I don’t really know. It still hurts like absolute Hell whenever your body is doing whatever it does, but...

The Sprite... what should he even call it? It still was a separate intelligence living inside of him. Truth stopped with a jerk as a nasty thought occurred.

Are you absolutely sure that the System didn’t leave some hidden hooks inside you? Some... invisible mechanism of control it could activate if it became aware of you?

No idea. Talk to her.

____________________________________

It probably took a bit less than an eternity to make his way out. He did find a janitor, but the only hidden wisdom he had was “You walked past the door to the staircase- second on your left.” Which didn’t seem universally applicable, even if he did turn out to be right. Well. Correct. He turned out to be both left and correct.

He retreated back to his little room. It was properly termed a cell, apparently, though Truth didn’t care for the term. He sat on the ground and meditated. He tried to imagine how the positive male role-models in his life would handle this situation. Then he got up and lay down on the bed. The answer was, “They wouldn’t get in the situation in the first place and wouldn’t give half a fuck if they did.”

It took a while, but he got to sleep. It was comforting, having a door that locked from the inside and a chair that fit under the handle. Funny. He didn’t feel so scared falling asleep in the desert in the Free State. But put him around “civilized” people, and he was as jumpy as a rabbit in a fox den.

Breakfast found him dressed neatly, washed, with a freshly scrubbed and dried Zeph perched on his head. It wasn’t immaculately white anymore. He would probably have to replace it. Everyone else seemed to keep their spotless.

Etenesh and Jember sat quietly next to him at the table. Everybody ate quietly, not sure how to start talking again. Into that still pond of awkwardness dropped the rolling boulder of Merkovah.

“Ah, Mr. Wells! Our bashful-” Merkovah either didn’t see or chose to ignore Etenesh and Jembers frantic head shakes “Hero!”

There was a dreadful pause.

“Although, given the way you rushed out of there, you probably don’t consider yourself a hero.” Merkovah continued. “You have always been quiet about your past, so at the risk of opening old wounds, may I ask if there is some trauma there?”

Truth half chuckled. He would be breaded, fried, and served with a slice of lemon before he believed that Merkovah just “happened” to guess that.

“Yes. More than I had expected, actually.”

“Well, you are in a particularly fine old Temple. I can assure you our counselors are very experienced and even more discreet. Still, I think that, whatever your motivations, the simple fact that you saved in excess of a thousand people should count for something.”

“I did no such thing.” He could vividly remember the exploded bodies.

“Oh, you absolutely did. This is not the first such attack. Suicide-summoning at major public gatherings have occurred five other times in the last twenty years. The lowest body count was fourteen hundred people. You see, it’s a proliferation portal. The more the demons kill, the wider it grows and the longer it lasts. Killing your way to it and shutting it down is a major challenge if you have to fight through an unending stream of increasingly powerful demons. The fact that you got to it so quickly unquestionably saved at least a thousand lives.”

Merkovah fixed Truth with a calm, but firm, look. “Old Mek’elle does its best, but it can’t be everywhere all at once. As you saw. Also, something that you might be interested to know- the word “hero” does not mean the same thing in every language or at all points in history. For example, here in Siphios, the word “hero” means something more like “extraordinary person” in the sense of being extraordinarily capable. Not the sort of selfless, idealistic person the media keeps pushing at you. A great warrior, for example, might be selfish, murderous, and vain, but they are still a hero by the old definition.”

“Still kind of messed up for people to push that on me.”

“You don’t want to be known, so they must tell their own stories. Stories that make them happy. The easiest way to manage the pressure is not to care. Let them amuse themselves while you focus on doing great deeds. Hero.”

There was a lot of no eye contact at the table, though Etenesh’s fist was tightly clenched, and, had Truth been looking, he would have seen the fierce approval on her face.

“Speaking of doing great things,” said Merkovah, “let’s all go to the park. I want to feed the ducks.”