Gestation Read online

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The morning started with a quick fight. Just as I climbed out of my cocoon, the trio from yesterday dashed over and laid into me until the siren went off. Then, it was another conversation with the supervisor. I have another two hours of studies, they have four each. How’s that fair, old man?

  As everyone was leaving, I heard yet another round of threats and flashed yet another smile. My whole body hurt, but it was the pain of losing that cut deepest.

  The situation demanded a response. After finding the inseparable trio, I spent the next hour following them around and watching them as they demanded payment. On the way, I picked up a polymer rock in the corridor where some work was going on. I wait now for one of the tax collectors to walk out of the bathroom before stepping in behind him.

  “Pain for pain.”

  I hit him in the back of the head. Then, I kick away at him methodically and deliberately until the siren sounds. That’s a good month of hurt right there.

  The supervisor’s in fine form today—you don’t hear that much cursing down at the docks. Still, I’m feeling much better after getting even.

  “Why did you hit him in the head? He showed up in the infirmary covered in blood, and he’s going to spend the next month limping. We don’t have full-body regeneration equipment here.”

  I say nothing, figuring I’m better off not telling him that was what I was going for.

  “Another four hours of studies a day. All next month. Okay, get out of here.”

  It’s been a hundred years since there was really such a thing as studies. Now, they just give us access to educational materials and tell us when the exam will be. The better your performance, the more privileges they give you at the orphanage—excursions, sweets, social events, permission to play certain games, and materials with limited access. It all depends on how many points you can score with your studies. The whole thing is set up for a calendar year, and Galboa always says that you have to find the upside and leverage it to get the most you can. That’s what I do.

  There’s a whole month of fourteen-hour study days ahead of me. You get tired when there’s that much on your plate, though the constant fighting and additional study time made reading while I have time off a habit. Really, it was Galboa who turned me on to reading. Books don’t teach me; they help me sort through what I already know. On the other hand, if you meet the requirements right away, you’re free—that’s the rule. All Vaalsie can do is give me some game limitations using the external supervisor interface for my cocoon.

  I crawl into the capsule and activate the Project Chrysalis invitation. A timer starts ticking away two hours.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Welcome to Project Chrysalis.

  New user registration

  Select a race

  I’m not sure—your choice of race determines what kind of parents you’ll have. Orcs are strong, dwarves already have a beard at twelve, elves look like girls, trolls are ugly, humans don’t have any talents.

  “Just like me. Okay, let’s go with human. Oh…that’s the only available option.”

  Enter a username

  I don’t have any nicknames, just what they call me down at the docks—small fry. They say you have to earn your name.

  It feels good to think back to my time there, though it hurts to think about Galboa.

  Sagie. That’s the youngest genie. The dockers are called genies sometimes because they pop out and fulfill the wishes of their clients.

  Next, there’s a page detailing natural predispositions to weapons or magic that give you additional damage bonuses. The bonus, as well as your chances of getting it, are displayed in percentages. You can even pay to boost your chances of getting the character you want.

  A whole page of paid services—getting born into a family of mages or becoming the heir to a long line of swordsmen; inheritable skills, mutations, family artifacts… The only problem is that the lowest prices start at thousands of credits.

  It’s incredible! Adult players would shell out that much cash for their family? I don’t have the money, but I wouldn’t spend it even if I did.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  It’s a clear day outside, and the air inside smells like smoke and food. A village hut made of clay and twigs. In the sunlight, the walls appear a dark red, and the sounds and aromas of village life pull me back into the old books. A wooden bed with a straw mattress.

  “Sa-a-agie, time to get up. Get something to eat and go help your father,” calls a pleasant feminine voice from behind a curtain, pulling me away from my inspection of the room.

  My heart stops. Suddenly, I want to just go do exactly what she’s asking me.

  In the next room, there’s a kitchen, with a bowl of porridge on the table. My stomach gurgles but that’s not important.

  Mama, Camelia, Level 130

  “Mama?!” I look at her in disbelief.

  She turns to me, sticks her fists in her sides, and smiles. “Yes, for the last twelve years. Go ahead and eat. Your father’s been up for a while, and he has the tackle waiting for you.”

  New quest: Help Father

  Description: Find father on the pier and help him catch some fish.

  Reward: Mom’s fish pie and/or a walk with father.

  Refusal: A beating.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “…”

  “Eat!” Mom shakes out her towel, turns away, and goes back to washing the dishes.

  Just seeing her makes me happy. Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t whimper. Instead, I sit down quietly and start eating, my eyes never leaving her. She’s there. Mama! She looks about thirty, she’s slender, and she’s wearing around-the-house clothes. Her hair is long and pulled back in a ponytail that reaches her shoulder blades. Long done eating, I just sit there gazing at her.

  “Get out of here before you bore a hole in me with your eyes. Go help your father.”

  I get up and am about ready to leave when I hear her call after me.

  “Who do you think is going to clear your plate away?”

  I go back and hand her the empty dish.

  Running out of the house, I sit down on the doorstep and wipe away tears. Then, I pull up the interface and turn on the mini map. I find the attribute panel.

  Name: Sagie

  Level: 0

  Experience: 0/100 (100 left until the next level)

  Race: Human

  Class: None selected

  Basic attributes

  Strength: 1

  Agility: 1

  Stamina: 1

  Intellect: 1

  Wisdom: 1

  Available attribute points: 0

  Additional attributes

  Speed: 1

  Athleticism: 1

  Morale: 1

  Survivability: 1

  Derivative ratings

  Physical damage: 1 (strength/2, but no less than 1)

  Carrying capacity: 2.5 kg (strength*10/4)

  Mana: 10 (wisdom*10)

  Health: 10 (stamina*10)

  Strength: 10 (stamina*10)

  Health restoration: 10/minute (survivability*10)

  Mana restoration: 10/minute (morale*10)

  Strength restoration: 10/minute (athleticism*10)

  Running speed: 4 km/h (1+speed/10)

  Defense: 1

  Resistance: 0

  Skills

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Professions

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Father… What a word. How I’ve thought about him over and over. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a father—I’ll help you, learn from you, be happy. Galboa…

  I live in a small village called Orany, which is next to Imir, the big city.

  Dad’s sitting on the pier going through his fishing tackle.

  Father, Arman, Level 154

  “Oh, Sagie, you’re finally awake. Did you wake up by yourself? Or did mom have to douse you with water from the pitcher?”

  “Yeah, right! I’m grown up, and I can
wake up when I need to by myself.”

  I’m floating, soaring. That man is my father! He’s wearing a fisherman’s coat and old, dirty pants with holes in them, and there’s a broad smile on his face.

  A light breeze plays with the waves and wafts in off the morning lake with a pleasant aroma. I squint as I look out at the glistening water. This moment, this is something I’ll never forget.

  Father dumps the tackle in the boat, climbs in after it, and helps me clamber aboard. Taking the oars, he starts rowing toward the middle of the lake. This feeling, I think it’s happiness.

  When we are maybe three hundred meters away from the bank, father drops the anchor and starts working on the fishing rods.

  “I’ve heard the mages from the city come fishing sometimes, only, they cast lightning into the water, and the fish swim to the top by themselves,” he says with a faint smile as he casts the first line. “Here, take this. I’ll get the next one ready for me.”

  “Why don’t we fish like that?”

  “Which one of us knows magic? All I know is how to start a fire and stun someone—no money to learn anything else. And what does a simple fisherman need with magic, anyway?”

  “Could I learn?”

  Father looks at me sadly.

  “You can become anyone you want, but we have barely anything to pay with. Everything else, you’re going to have to get yourself, son. You’re young, so pick up skills, learn professions, and boost your attributes. When the time comes, you’ll pick the way you want to live your life. Maybe, you’ll be a mage. Maybe, you’ll be a warrior. Maybe, you’ll decide to be a trader or a blacksmith. Hey, you could even be a fisherman like me.”

  “But how am I supposed to decide who I’m going to be?”

  “Sagie, you’re just a kid. You have time to try things out and see what you like. Learn, experiment, play, enjoy life. This is your life. Do whatever you want to do. You get to decide who you’re going to be. Just don’t forget to help your parents out.” Father smiles again as he casts his line.

  He sits there looking out at the bobber riding the waves, and I just enjoy the moment of which I’ve always dreamed. Papa doesn’t move until he looks at me slyly and asks a question.

  “Want me to teach you how to fish?”

  You have a new profession offer: Fisherman

  “…yes, of course.”

  You learned a profession: Fisherman

  Fisherman +1

  “Ah-ha, now I have a helper!” Dad looks happy. “Mom never let me take you out before. She was afraid you’d drown. It’s deep here, and there are all kinds of different fish.”

  We spend the whole morning, all the way to lunch, sitting in the boat. There’s almost no talking, just fishing. Father praises me, tells me I’m a real fisherman’s kid, that I picked it up right away. We enjoy the silence and have fun catching fish. Maybe, I just enjoy not being alone. There’s a new, unbelievably dear person sitting next to me and smiling.

  “This is a good catch—we can head back home. Camelia promised a fish pie, but first I need to teach you how to swim!”

  Before I have time to blink, he tosses me overboard. How could a kid who’s never seen water deeper than the tubs in the personal compartments on the ships being repaired know how to swim? Swimming? More like floundering.

  “Use your legs and arms. Push through the water.” Dad just keeps smiling.

  I start getting the hang of it once I’ve swallowed a stomachful of water.

  Ability learned: Swimming

  Swimming +1

  “There you go… Now, swim to the shore.”

  “It’s so far!” I call back, sinking and gulping down another mouthful of water.

  “Swim, swim. Your eyes are afraid, but your arms know what to do.”

  Once I pull myself up onto the shore, I vomit up all the water. Father just laughs. My strength is down to nothing, my health is halfway gone.

  Strength +1

  Stamina +1

  “We’ll go for a walk tomorrow in the forest. That’ll be a nice reward for being so brave.”

  “What do you mean, brave? I would’ve drowned if I’d stopped.”

  “You could’ve climbed back into the boat.”

  Father practically glows with innocence.

  “Yeah, right! You would’ve just pushed me back in.” That’s easy enough to predict. “You just want me to get stronger?”

  I laugh nervously. Father straightens up instantly, his reply serious.

  “Exactly! Train, and even a child can do so much. You can get new skills, professions, protection…you can boost your attributes and improve your reputation. Play with other kids and do what people ask you to do. Childhood is the school of life. People will forgive your mistakes, they’ll be more open, and you don’t have to worry about keeping a roof over your head.”

  My father turns out to be strong and wise. I know what he was saying, but I just haven’t been able to phrase it in my head.

  “We’re going to fish every morning. The rest of the time, you can walk or help your mother,” father says softly, though still with the same gravity in his voice.

  I check the time—there are only ten minutes left. That little? Switching the capsule over to sleep mode, I decide to catch up on sleep during studies. For now, I’m going to play. The game doesn’t completely replace sleep, but you don’t need as much of it to catch up later.

  The whole next week is heaven. There are friends for me, with 15-year-old Rachel on the next street over and Grunt and Ownie there, too. I haven’t seen their families yet, though. Rachel is the daughter of a blacksmith, also an orphan in real life. Grunt and Ownie are from the same orphanage. Lucky. Playing is much easier that way.

  Father is a great hunter. He has taught me how to shoot a bow, how to hide, how to set and disarm traps, even taught me the herbalist profession. In the morning, we set traps; in the evening, we picked them up and collected our trophies. And the whole week led up to Sunday, market day.

  Rachel and I beat a quest and learned stealth. Then, when we were swimming in the lake, we picked up the ability to hold our breath. She may not be the most beautiful girl, she talks endlessly, and she teases me sometimes, but she’s my best and only friend. Sometimes, she says something, and then she pauses and looks at me sadly, almost as though she pities me. Why? She makes a lot of mistakes. She talks about her parents like they’re alive, too. It sounds like they just recently died, and she hasn’t got used to it, yet. She didn’t like her dad, though—she always frowns when she mentions him. The dad in her Project Chrysalis family isn’t her cup of tea.

  One evening, I had dinner at Rachel’s house. Her dad taught me the blacksmith profession after he gave me a quest for hauling wood and coal. Rachel’s father is a stocky dwarf. He’s always covered in soot, his beard is all the way down to his chest, and he almost never takes off his blacksmith’s apron. After four hours of hard work, I picked up +2 to my strength and +3 to my stamina. Then, he found out that I was Arman’s son and offered to teach me carpentry. How do you turn that down? But he was a clever guy. He told me he’d do it if I brought him three walk-tree branches to make into bows.

  When I got home, my mom was really worried. I’d forgotten that it was late. My father glowered when he found out that I had the chance to learn carpentry in exchange for the three branches, too. The next morning, he handed them to me, and I took them over to the blacksmith. Rachel’s dad just grunted triumphantly and taught me carpentry, even throwing in the ability to make a simple bow, before showing me the door. When I got home, father wanted to have a word with me. “Walk-tree is a local Level 75 boss that does what the forest keeper tells him to do. You wouldn’t have been able to get his branches, though you could very easily have died trying. The blacksmith knew that, just like he knew that you wouldn’t be able to get them yourself. I’ve had them for years. This is the last one—take it. Hopefully, I’ll see the bow you made from it one day.”

  Then, father relaxed, smelling
of tobacco. I’d already noticed that he grabs his pipe and heads out back when he’s nervous.

  Suddenly, I realized what had been bothering me. It was a rare material. That blacksmith was a cunning bastard, too. I’m never talking to him again. I’m better off walking to the city and learning what I need to know there.

  Mama taught me how to sew and cook. Her culinary skill was well above Level 100, and even the simple porridge she makes gives you stamina and strength bonuses. Father knows and can do far more than he lets on, too, and I’ve been starting to realize that things aren’t as simple with him as they seem. How could a simple fisherman reach Level 154? A sewing housewife is equally as unlikely to get to Level 130. I’ve been afraid to ask questions, and neither of them have said anything.

  But finally, it’s Sunday. We set off for the city—the city walls, at least. That’s where the market is. Father grabbed a tray, and mama packed it full of everything we collected this week in the forest.

  “Go have fun with the kids. That’s Rachel’s father’s stand over there. We’ll be here selling in the meantime.”

  The blacksmith’s stand is three down from ours on the other side of the road. He’s laying out goods, and Rachel is arguing about something with Ownie and Grunt. Father misunderstands my silence, but I’m certainly happy with the result.