Forerunner's Child (19) (Patreon)

Kit wasn't late to rodent game day.

It didn't matter how insignificant this “game” was, or how incidental to the real threats facing the Institute. Jay had invited her, and every other participant mentioned how special it was to join. After delivering the preserved database backup, even Abel admitted she should have a chance to go.

Days were long on Mara, making for significant periods where Kit's given duty could not be performed.

Forerunner did not ask her to devote herself slavishly to endless training and memorization. Technically he didn't require any work at all, just made sure a list of interesting new technical documents found their way to her desk, or a disabled version of some useful tool. Once she saw it, she could never resist the urge to play with it for long.

When it came to the rodents’ “secret” game, Forerunner didn't need to remind her. Jay did, as soon as they woke up that morning.

"Don't go to calisthenics," he said, catching her before she could reach her closet. In the two weeks or so since Kit's revival, Jay no longer hesitated to cross the boundary between their spaces.

"If you... still plan on coming to the game tonight, I mean."

She looked down at his hand, tail stretching out behind her. "Abel reminded me about that... yesterday, I think. Isn't that later?"

Jay let go, scurrying across the room. He returned with his tablet a few seconds later, along with a handful of little plastic shapes. "Yeah, but I have to help you make a character. Abel said it was my job. He didn't want to take time during the game."

She shrugged, then nudged her closet door open. Her athletic stuff was still there, but the outfit waiting near the front wasn't what she usually wore to a workout. Instead, it was a layered green and black dress with matching black socks and long gloves. Forerunner's way of telling her she should take the game seriously?

"What kind of game is this exactly?" She looked from the tablet to the little plastic objects. Their shapes were complex, mostly hollow with thin lines forming their edges. Still, the purpose was obvious: dice. "Wait, don't answer. Is this one of those... this is a roleplaying game, isn't it?"

"I mean... kinda." Jay shoved the dice away into his pocket. "It's not around a table, if that's what you're thinking. But we have to make your character sheet before you can join. Abel's the best at coming up with puzzles for us. Says he's gonna go extra hard now that we've got a new player. But if you want to make a combat character, that's fine too. You get to start at our level, and we can always buy you gear."

Her first instinct was to whack Jay with her tail and find her gym clothes anyway. But the way the mouse looked up at her, big eyes inches from her face—how could she turn him down?

Besides, the other players all seemed to think this group was a unique honor, one reserved only for the other rodents. Despite the obvious error in that name. "Okay. Let me get ready first. Then we'll... make a character?"

Her roommate wasn't very good at waiting. Instead of letting her change in peace, he stood only feet away, going through pages in that complex rulebook.

This was indeed a roleplaying game, or at least one that required substantial “playing along” from its participants. By the time Kit was dressed and ready, Jay had barely even begun an exhaustive description of its mechanics.

"Just tell me what you're missing," she said. “I'll make that."

He looked thoughtful, skimming through several other screens on the tablet before flipping back to the rules page. "A rogue would be great. But that's... mostly working with machines. That's already your job. Won't you get bored?"

No more than anything else in this game. "Nah. I like using my hands." She wrapped her tail around to her lap, running her fingers through the fur and evening out the tangles. "Help me make my... character."

Kit barely paid any attention over the next few hours. She nodded along whenever Jay explained important things, and inevitably just asked for his opinion on the best direction to take and wrote it down. It all seemed like a distraction, when her attention ought to be devoted to uncovering Forerunner's secrets.

But with her database still downloading and the sun high overhead, there wasn't much more for her to do. Maybe joining the rodents of the Institute for a game of pretend wouldn't be so bad.

As the game approached, several of the other players made a brief appearance—at least the ones that could visit Kit's floor. They wanted to make sure she had made a character and go over all the technical details about her decisions. By the end, Kit absorbed some of the rules entirely without meaning to, if only through sheer force of repetition.

Then it was time to leave. Jay packed a little satchel for them both, then peeked out into the hall. Only when he was sure no one was waiting outside did he lead them out, crossing to one of the other bedroom doors. But it wasn't Abel's room, it was a set of spiral stairs, with the lights turned down to simulate gently flickering candlelight.

Just enough for them to see while they descended into the gloom. "You don't have to come back after tonight," Jay whispered. "These games can get a little too... intense, sometimes. That's why we started having our own. It used to be combined with the foxes, but they got so aggressive. It wasn’t really because they ran out of room." He shook his head once. "We wanted something more relaxed. Less combat. But it's still kinda scary. It's okay if it's too much for you."

Kit stopped on the steps, her tail lifting high behind her. "Wait. You think I'm gonna get scared while sitting around a table? I have a space suit in my closet."

He released her wrist, hurrying ahead of her down the steps. "Told you, not a table. It’s an adventure game, that means we go on an adventure! Mara is safe outside. If you use your stuff right, I mean. But in Abel's world, that's not always true. There are still dangerous aliens to fight... traps for us to open, computers to hack, maidens to save. Depends on the week."

"Maidens," Kit repeated, indignant. "You don't even know what that means."

Jay stopped, sticking his tongue out. "It's part of the story, obviously. Saving people in trouble. Also, since it's our rodent game, the NPCs are all rodents too. But not all of them are nice like us."

The game was nothing like anything Kit had ever experienced. Abel worked with Forerunner’s existing systems, using rooms with projection walls to form exciting backdrops, and filling them with complex electrical puzzles, along with holographic enemies.

Kit and the others played characters, using their fake weapons and real wits to solve the challenges before them. At first she followed the group along, barely paying attention or even noticing what they did. But as the minutes turned to hours, she found herself growing more invested. Her chosen character was an adventurous rogue, much like herself—but bolder, since she didn’t have to worry about getting killed by any of the threats they faced. She could be braver, smarter, and a little sillier.

Soon enough she was talking in character, and enjoying each new simulated challenge waiting for them. They moved from room to fictional room, facing various threats. Abel walked along at the back, narrating the adventure, and occasionally providing hints when they got stumped.

By the time it was over, even Kit could see the appeal of the game.

They ended the evening in another of the Institute's private dining rooms, filled with a variety of steaming hot foods. Only the screens displayed a sprawling space bar on the edge of a dark system, with their own fictional warship docked in the distance and many other shady patrons spread throughout. Forerunner even provided the scent of convincing smoke.

"Okay, Abel—you can admit it now. Kit didn't ruin the game." Sawyer stood behind his seat, nudging him with a frothing cup of something green. The drink bubbled energetically on Kit's tongue—but there was no sign of anything more intoxicating about it.

But if the other residents knew that drinks like that even should do something beyond taste good, they made no sign.

"I'll let her play next session," Abel said, speaking slowly and carefully. "If she wants to come."

Kit swirled around the dregs of her mostly-empty cup, before knocking it dramatically against the table. "You mean will Skirra be joining this ragtag band of bounty-hunters the next time they burn starlight!?"

She leaned sideways, wrapping her tail around Jay's shoulder and pulling him closer. As much as the automatic chairs allowed, anyway. She didn't have the strength to fight the mechanism. "Who else would keep you safe? It's a dangerous galaxy out there."

Jay giggled, pushing her tail away. "Don't get too excited, Skirra. Technically you would've died twice if I hadn't healed you."

"And warned you about that booby-trap," Emma added. "You need us looking out for you too."

She shrugged. "I think so. But Skirra would never admit it."

How late was it, anyway? In rooms with projected environments and no sign of real sunlight, she had long since lost track of time. It didn't help that her needs for rest were entirely situational.

One by one the others excused themselves. Abel first, muttering about a simulation he was running. An alarm on Emma's phone sent her scrambling to the medical bay, while Jay insisted he was going to shower before getting some evening work done.

Sawyer lingered a little longer than the rest. He refilled Kit's glass, then took the seat next to her. "Heard you saw your body last week."

Kit's tail drooped slightly. She took the cup, then a long sip. "I guess it was my old one, yeah. I thought it wouldn't be there anymore. But Forerunner only needed my head."

"Because... our ancestors had brains," Sawyer said. "That's what he needed to revive you."

Kit nodded along. "I know how it works. Or... I know the theory. No idea how you could get a person out of whatever I was. But I'm not complaining—I'm glad to be here!"

I would rather be back home, visiting the family for Christmas and doing interviews about my jump.

"Still. Everyone has their limits. You're rushing up on yours, it feels like. No one here had to see their dead body. Hopefully no one ever does."

"Or me again," Kit admitted, resting one hand on her stomach. "Still get a little queasy when I think about it. I never had a problem with anatomy, but... I've never seen cryogenics rot someone quite like that before. Guess it's the time that does the rotting..."

Sawyer patted her shoulder again. "You know where to find me if you want to talk about it. And if you do have to get treatment, I'll be in your corner. By the time you get back, no one will blame you for taking some time off. Everyone needs it."

Kit stood up, dropping her cup into the slot. She curled her tail around her legs, between herself and the deer. "I'm glad you're on my side. But I don't need to leave. No matter how often you or anyone else says I can."

"You're leaving right now," he said, turning towards her. Even so, he didn't follow.

"To take a bath," she shot back. "See you when I see you, deer."

She hurried out into the hall, over to the door that would separate her from any full templates. Once she was through, she didn't have to worry about Sawyer trying to convince her to go for... treatment?

She did take a bath, dumping her costume in the same bins she usually stuck other things in, then letting the heat and bubbles soothe away some of the stress. Her tail was so large she could float with minimal effort.

The only change was the addition of a green ribbon in her hair, which she had no way to remove. Clearly Maddie wasn't worried about damage as a result, considering where they first met.

"That's the one thing I haven't figured out yet," Kit said to the empty room, laying back under the gentle massage of the jets. "Why do you make them go down there? Scrub their memories as soon as they get too independent?"

Forerunner answered with his usual swiftness. He always did, when there weren't other kids around to overhear her awkward questions. "That is plainly untrue. Look in that mirror, Kit. Here you are, free to live your life. All the residents of the Institute have that same freedom. Your every success grants me satisfaction—the dangers you overcome, the friends you make, and the things you build. Have I ever done anything to suggest it might be otherwise?"

She sat up, wrapping her tail around in front of herself. Someone was already shuffling around in the changing room. Kit wouldn't be able to have this conversation for much longer. She stared down into the bubbles. "I've never seen you hurt anyone. But I'm not allowed to see all of the Luminescence Institute. Maybe the really bad stuff is downstairs."

Forerunner laughed with his usual, parental amusement. "Ask her if you think so—her memories of it are clearer than most. None of this was my design, squirrel. The world you wake in was a solution to a different problem. The Pioneering Society did not make it my prerogative to innovate or make critical decisions that impact the lives of human citizens. I protect you, assist you, enable you—but only you decide."

The door opened, and a familiar fox made her way over, holding her huge glass tablet in both hands. She didn't seem to notice Kit until she was halfway across the room. She turned, then slipped into the water across from her. "I was going to find you about this tomorrow. But this is better—too small for Rich to get in and complain."

Kit nodded, lowering her tail. Whatever anxious memories remained in the back of her mind; they wouldn't bother her unless strangers were around. She could relax again. With only a hint of frustration that Forerunner wouldn't be truthful with her anymore.

Unless he never was. Why should he treat her any differently?

Forerunner said to ask her. Did he arrange for her to be here right now?

"You know about Remedial, Maddie? Everyone says you've been a lot."

She nodded absently, focused on the tablet in front of her. Various technical diagrams flickered over its surface, evidently unaffected by the moisture. "More than anyone who leaves. Not more than everyone. The stress is too intense for some. They do what they can, then..." She shrugged.

"I know their names. Olivia, Aster, James… the best thing would be to take you there and see. If there was anything else going on, we could go and meet them."

She set the tablet down, and strangely it floated along the surface, pushed only slightly by bubbles and foam. "But not right now. Not when we have our first new resident in ages. Not with a living fossil who knows about all kinds of old human stuff."

"And not since you can see what Forerunner wants to hide," she added, without making a sound.

Kit pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms gently around them. "I thought maybe Forerunner used it to brainwash us. Some way to... reset our personalities."

Maddie's eyebrows went up. She pushed off the spa, floating over to Kit's side. She took the seat beside her, whispering into her ear. "Squirrel. I think you're having a little too much fun in Abel's game. The real world isn't like pretend. People don't do that. Humans have grown a whole lot since the old days. Do we look like barbarians to you?"

Kit met her eyes, or tried. She couldn't see Maddie's goofy smile without her own stern expression fracturing near the edges, then shattering into a billion pieces. She suppressed giggling. "You look like a fox."

"Exactly." She rested one hand on Kit’s shoulder. "I know you're from a dark, scary time. But those days are over. Forerunner won't hurt you. No one here will either. Not everyone is as good at being nice as everyone else. But that's not the same thing as setting up a big evil conspiracy to wipe your brain every time you need to relax."

She let go, standing up in the water with both hands on her hips. "I remember lots and lots! Ask, I can prove it! I can tell you what it looks like, what color the carpets are, what everyone does. And I think you'd remember it too." She turned her head to one side, showing off the bright orange bow. "You can do the interface; it means your mind can get plastic. Wedge into little spaces, or stretch all the way out into big ones."

She demonstrated both, dropping down into the water for a second, then standing up as tall as she could, hands vertical. "I won't tell you not to go. But pleeeeeaese don't for the next year; you can take as much time as you need after that. I'll even visit."

"Will you tell me what it is?" Kit asked. "That would help me feel better. No one will."

Maddie giggled. "Hard to explain, since you've only been one instance so far. It's... when you become a full template, it changes how you think. You can tell, right? They're more..." She shrugged again. "Bigger. But other things. Rigid. Patterns and rules and cleaning things up and what we have to do and why and..." She sat back down. "The way we look at full templates, that's how the ones in remedial look at us.

"It's way more relaxed. No shifts or jobs or anything. Mostly games. Sometimes good ideas come from down there. A lot of times, actually. But when they get up here, we have to do the hard work of figuring out how to build them."

"Kids seem scared of it," Kit whispered. "Like going is the worst thing that could ever happen."

Maddie scoffed. "Not sure who you're talking about with that word. Kid. Who's that?" She stuck her tongue out again. "Losers seem scared of it more like. Because sometimes you come back a little different. Another animal, or hair, or other stuff. Nothing that matters. You decide you've been one way for a long time and maybe you want to change. When you're my age, you'll understand."

She raised one finger, touching it to Kit's mouth. "Nope, don't say it. Years frozen don't count."

Of all the residents who might be manipulating her—knowingly or not—Maddie was the last one Kit would disbelieve.

"You seem so sure Forerunner wouldn't hurt us. But he's lying to us! Maybe he would do other things."

All Maddie's humor vanished in an instant. She sat back down across from Kit, focused on her tablet for a few seconds. "I've thought about what you said. Talked to Wren. That's why I'm sending you up to the tower."

At the same moment, she turned the screen towards Kit, showing technical diagrams of the radio tower. "Here are the first upgrades you'll be installing. There's a new control chip we..."

So maybe Kit still had a lot to learn about the interface. Maddie made it look effortless, speaking with her mouth, moving her hands as though she was really trying to teach Kit—and somehow speaking in her mind at the same moment. "I added lots of tools to your bag, including a scope. When you're up there, you should be able to see all the way to Solstice. Even from this far, it should be obvious if things are as bad as that girl told you. If civilization is collapsing, we'll know."

Kit nodded along, at least until she realized that was a sign of the silent conversation and brushed it off as part of dropping under the water again and rinsing her hair.

"And when we find out that Forerunner lied, then what?" she asked, without looking back at her companion this time. "Is there a backup plan? He runs your whole world. No one here can even take care of themselves."

"We make him tell us why, obviously. You keep saying stuff like that like it's a bad thing. It's not bad to have machines that work. That's why we invented them in the first place."

Kit had no argument for her—nor any way to even try, at least not without alerting Forerunner to their silent conversation.

"Show me that tower again.”