Crystalized Munchkinry - Arc II - Chapter 08 (Patreon)

Taylor felt comfortable.

Which was strange, because she could not remember the last time she had felt comfortable at all.

Doubt began to form, slow and insistent, that something was not right. Keeping her eyes closed and her body still, she tried to determine where she was.

Her first thought was that she was in her bed, because she clearly remembered going to sleep the night before, dreading the next day. But her bed was old and squeaky, not this impossibly soft, almost unreal cushion she was currently lying on.

Her next thought was that she was dreaming. But her recent dreams, the ones she could actually remember, had been closer to nightmares. So either this was some kind of aberration, or it was not a dream at all.

That realization made her feel oddly worse.

Still, there was a strange certainty in her mind that this was not a dream. She could not explain it, but she felt it clearly all the same.

Deciding against opening her eyes, she tried to reconstruct what had happened. The last thing she remembered was going to bed before the first day of school, but even that felt slightly off, as if something told her that is not what had happened.

She screwed her eyes shut tighter and concentrated.

She remembered going to sleep.

Then waking up…

Getting dressed…

She felt like she should be panicking, or at least hyperventilating, but instead there was only that same eerie calm – profoundly weird feeling.

Going further back, she remembered sitting on the bus, expecting something…

Walking into the school…

That memory carried with it the sensation of walking toward her own execution.

She saw faces again, most of them indifferent, some of them watching with clear anticipation, and she noted, distantly, that the memory was too clear, too detailed, as if she were only now beginning to properly access it.

Heading toward her locker…

Here she could feel, despite her previous calmness, that her body was reacting with a deep instinctive urge to flee.

Seeing Emma, Sophia, and Madison standing together, talking, positioned just a little too close to her locker…

Her breathing began to quicken. Sweat formed on her skin. The urge to run sharpened.

Still, the memory continued, and now she could recall the smell.

It was visceral in a way she had not known was possible. It churned her stomach, made her want to puke, yet in the memory everyone else simply stood there as if it did not exist at all.

She remembered thinking, briefly, about skipping the locker entirely and carrying everything with her for the day, but teachers frowned on that sort of thing, and she had not had the energy to argue, not after all the times her problems had already been dismissed.

As she approached the locker, she saw them talking, but a persistent buzzing noise, like swarming insects, began to drown everything else out.

She now felt the repugnant smell even more.

Her skin prickled as though something crawled across it with every step, and then there was laughter, all-encompassing and cruel, from someone she had once thought of as a sister.

At that point she realized she was sitting up in her bed, hugging herself tightly, crying, even though her eyes were still closed.

Expecting the worst, she slowly opened them.

What she saw was not what she expected.

She was on a hill.

Lush green grass stretched in every direction, dotted with healthy trees and flowers in full bloom – carnations, if she remembered correctly.

Now that she could focus on something other than the absurdly comfortable bed and the lingering echo of her memories, she noticed a gentle breeze against her skin and warm sunlight bathing her face.

Strangely, only her hill was populated by life. The others were bare except for grass, stretching outward like a motionless green ocean.

She sat there for a few moments, simply staring, trying to understand where she was.

She briefly considered the possibility that this was heaven or hell, though she immediately rejected it, because as much as she hated her life, she was fairly certain she did not want to die.

At least, she thought she was.

She was considering getting up and looking for answers when she heard a voice.

“Hello there!” came a surprising greeting.

And Taylor would later deny, to anyone who asked, that she squeaked in fear.

“Who’s there?” she asked, snapping her head around frantically as she tried to locate the source.

She did not have to search for long.

A light blue blob floated into view, hovering gently above the ground, with large expressive eyes and a perpetual smile.

“It is only me,” the blob replied.

For a moment she just stared at it, trying to decide whether she was hallucinating, dying, or losing her mind in the most inconvenient way possible.

“You are not hallucinating,” the blob said calmly, still smiling.

“How did you –” she began.

“Know?” it interrupted, tone calm and knowing. “It was practically written on your face.”

“How do I know you are not a figment of my imagination?” she asked, trying to force logic into something that refused to make sense. “While I am lying in… whatever that was… dying?”

“Do you feel like you are hallucinating?” it asked calmly.

She paused, forcing herself to think it through. And despite everything, despite how much she wanted to reject it, she had to admit that it did not feel like a hallucination.

She was too clear-headed.

There was none of the floaty, detached feeling she had read about, and honestly, she really wanted to believe that this was not some kind of hallucination.

Because that would make this event interesting and probably unique.

Which would make her unique.

Which was something she could cling to amidst the quagmire that had become her life.

So, hesitantly, she directed her next question toward the levitating blob while inwardly hoping the answer would not disappoint her.

“Then what are you?”

The blob didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he gently swayed in the breeze, bobbing up and down as he studied her.

Taylor was just about to demand an answer when the blob abruptly stopped moving, hovering completely motionless as an unnervingly large smile spread across his face.

“Your power,” he replied.

Taylor froze.

Her power?

That was impossible.

She did not have powers. Or at least she had never known she did.

While she was still trying to process that statement, the blob continued.

“Unfortunately, during today’s...” He paused, seemingly searching for an appropriate word. “Event, you triggered, Taylor.”

The mention of the ordeal was enough to snap her out of her thoughts.

“And now,” he continued, “you are lying in a hospital bed.”

That startled her enough that she immediately began feeling around and touching the bed beneath her.

“This doesn’t feel like a hospital bed,” she said, confusion evident in her voice as she shot him a questioning look.

“You think?” came the immediate sarcastic response.

“This is a space that exists between your mind and me. A neutral environment where we can talk without distractions.”

“My mind?” she repeated.

“Technically, I intercepted your brain activity,” he explained, “and fed it signals that make it appear as though you are here.”

He paused for a moment, checking whether she was following. When he saw understanding beginning to form on her face, he continued. “Think of it like a very advanced virtual reality system.”

Taylor nodded slowly.

“So this is my power? A blob in virtual reality that I can talk to?”

To her surprise, the blob burst out laughing at her question.

Taylor instinctively flinched.

For a brief moment, the sound reminded her of her tormentors, and sadness immediately followed when she realized that most of the laughter she had heard recently had been cruel and malicious.

That was when she realized the blob was not laughing at her.

“I’m actually a slime!” he declared cheerfully.

“What’s the difference?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “Slimes are just cuter.”

Taylor found herself wondering why cuteness was apparently an important distinction, but ultimately decided there were more pressing matters to focus on.

“If this isn’t my power,” she asked, “then what is?”

The blue slime bobbed thoughtfully in the airHow she knew it was thinking, she did not even want to consider.

“I’m glad you asked!” he declared proudly.

Taylor watched in fascination as two smaller blue blobs suddenly appeared at his sides, one of them holding a long white pointer. A moment later, a stereotypical blackboard materialized behind him out of nowhere.

She blinked.

The slime was now wearing a black teacher’s cap. He tapped the board twice with the pointer, producing two crisp knocks.

“Welcome, class,” he began. “To Power Orientation. My name is Administrator, and I will be your lecturer today.”

Taylor swallowed the question that immediately sprang to mind upon hearing that nameHer mother had taught her that interrupting a lecturer was rude whenever it could be avoided, and she had a feeling there would be plenty of opportunities to ask questions later.

Besides, if that name was any indication, she suspected she was going to accumulate a lot more questions before this was over.

While that ran through her head, Administrator continued, “But you can call me Admin!”

Taylor nodded.

Only then did she realize that while she had been paying attention to him, the bed beneath her had transformed into an equally comfortable school desk, complete with a pen and notebook waiting neatly on its surface.

She examined the pen in her hand after picking it up, clicking it several times to see whether she could somehow feel its virtual nature.

A loud throat-clearing interrupted her investigation. She immediately looked up at Admin with a guilty expression, but he merely smiled at her indulgently. She found herself smiling back.

When was the last time somebody had genuinely smiled at her?

“If you would direct your attention to the blackboard,” came the gentle rebuke, “I can begin.”

She quickly apologized, grabbed the pen properly, opened the notebook, and prepared herself to take notes. She had a feeling this was going to be the most interesting class she would ever attend.

“Thank you,” said the slime as a simplistic outline of a human body appeared in the middle of the board. “This is you.”

As he gestured with the pointer, labels appeared across the diagram, identifying different parts of the body: the head, limbs, several organs, and the Corona.

He tapped the figure with the stick and launched into what was almost certainly a prepared presentation. To Taylor, he looked like somebody who genuinely enjoyed doing this.

“I will improve your body,” he explained, “until it is the best it can be. Along with that comes increased flexibility, dexterity, and a low-level regeneration.”

At that point he became noticeably smug. “And the best part is that if a Trump somehow turns off your powers, these improvements will remain active.”

“Why?” asked Taylor. She had never heard of a power working like that.

“Because it is not a continuous power effect,” Admin explained. “I am simply improving your body.”

He flashed her a cheeky grin. “I rebuilt you: better, faster, stronger.”

“Oh,” was the only sound that came out of Taylor.

“Anyway, we can get into the details later. Let’s continue for now.”

Taylor nodded, now considerably more interested than before. That improvement alone would have been amazing. The thought of no longer having a pudgy stomach almost made her want to cheer.

“The next category involves several modifications to your organs,” he continued, tapping the appropriate areas on the diagram. “Your liver can filter out various biological control agents, and your adrenal glands have received similar upgrades.”

“Err... what?” she asked, confused.

Admin sighed dramatically and pointed the stick at her. “You are becoming immune to biological Master effects.”

“Ooooh, cool!” Taylor exclaimed.

“Yes. Cool,” said Admin dryly.

Taylor immediately looked away and blushed. “Sorry!”

“No problem, no problem,” he replied with a chuckle before continuing. “Your brain has also received several upgrades. Nothing extraordinary, just increased durability, improved learning capability, and greater processing speed. These enhancements are also permanent.”

Taylor dutifully made a few notes but refrained from interrupting.

Even if her mental list of questions kept piling up.

“Those cover the basic Brute powers,” Admin explained.

He tapped the board again.

“For Thinker abilities, I prepared several things.”

Taylor sat up a little straighter.

“You will receive multitasking, accelerated learning, enhanced cognition, and an improved memory. Naturally, these are vulnerable to Trump powers,” he said with a knowing smile, “but never fear, because I’m here!” He finished by dramatically raising one of his blob-like hands toward the sky.

Taylor could not help snorting at the ridiculous display. Admin merely smiled back and continued.

“Through processes that I will not be discussing at this time, you will also be immune to Trump and Master powers.” He took a breath, then said something that shocked Taylor to the core. “And you will be invisible to Thinkers.”

She immediately asked excitedly. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Looking mildly amused by her enthusiasm, Admin nodded. “Yes. Precognitives will not be able to see you.”

“Wow!” Taylor exclaimed. Taylor had never heard of anyone possessing a power like that. It sounded incredibly powerful.

Administrator basked shamelessly in her awe.

“Indeed, it is awesome,” he agreed before his tone became more serious. “But do not expect people to remain oblivious. The absence of information can be just as revealing as the information itself.”

Taylor nodded seriously and wrote that down.

“As an additional bonus, you will be able to speak and understand all languages,” he added almost casually.

“All of them?” she asked. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds really useful,” Taylor mused, immediately thinking about the various gangs in Brockton Bay and the number of languages spoken throughout the city.

“That is precisely why I am giving it to you,” Admin replied dryly.

“You?” Taylor asked incredulously. “I thought you were some kind of guide who explained how all this worked.”

“No,” Admin corrected. “I told you that I am your power. I designed these abilities, and I decided what you would receive.”

Taylor’s eyes widened.

“So you could take them back?”

This time his smile was reassuring. It reminded her of her father. It reminded her of her father when she was younger and worried about something insignificant. He would wear that same expression while patiently explaining why her fears were silly.

“Technically, yes,” he admitted. “But I will not. My goal is to help you, not hurt you.”

That was surprisingly comforting. Even so, something about this entire conversation continued to bother her. Things just were not adding up.

She had never heard of anyone communicating directly with their power in this manner. Granted, that was hardly definitive evidence, since humanity’s understanding of powers was painfully incomplete, but the fact remained that nobody really knew how powers worked.

Which made Admin’s willingness to sit down and explain everything rather suspicious.

There was also the persistent feeling that something was missing. Even this place, beautiful as it was, carried a strange undertone that she could not quite identify.

For once, she decided not to ignore the feeling and hope it would go away.

She looked at Admin, who was calmly watching her work through her thoughts. He continued lazily bobbing through the air, carried by the gentle breeze.

There were hundreds of questions she wanted to ask.

In the end, she chose the simplest one.

“Why are you talking to me?” she finally asked.