This place is sicker than I thought. How do the spirits flow when they are but weeds in Augustford's scheming? --12.7 Seconds Post-Integration.
"Before we begin, take a sip of that -- I promise you will feel invigorated," the Spiritual side of SIMP said, the side which he thought he would begin to call S-SIMP or something along those lines. He reminded himself that the entity he was talking to now was no machine, but a living, self-aware and self-promoting entity. He did not want to confuse that with the lifeless machine which ran the store's System. So, he acquiesced and took a sip to show his fealty.
And so -- as from within or without he couldn't say, but upon that first sip, a love bloomed into being: "This is fecking awesome!"
A mere sip of the drink gave him energy unlike he had ever experienced from a beverage. The closest he had gotten before now was when his grandma had on special occasions made for them a special green tea smoothie. "Whoa. That's a drink with hair on its chest! So cool..."
"You feel better, I take it?" S-SIMP said.
Clark grinned. "Oh, yeah! Now, about this 'dungeon champion' stuff I agreed to... I should probably know about that, yeah?"
"So, what you're telling me is that I am a glorified security guard?" Clark asked, after carefully having listened to everything S-SIMP said.
"Well... no. A security guard would imply you had authority over the store's denizens. You don't," Clark stared dumbly at nothing when his eyes had no face to attach to his interlocutor. S-SIMP continued: "You have the authority of the dungeon, which grants you limited jurisdiction, in turn, over the store, but only in specific circumstances. And when you are actively engaged in any of those highly trained roles... which are totally irrelevant to you right now because you are only a clerk."
"I'll be growing into my role, then. I guess you won't be training me? Oh well. Not like I ever had much in the way of hands-on teaching." he said. A part of Clark knew he should feel overwhelmed; but with the caffeine flowing through him, he felt like he could take on the world. "No problem. I am a go-getter. What's the first step?"
"Our first step is to find the dungeon-core. Without the dungeon-core, this tower will only continue its descent into chaos. Then, obviously, young-un, we can't ignore how the ten-thousandth's floor of this place is overrun with those monsters. It's a lot to do but we have the time to do it," S-SIMP said.
"Right. Speaking of... what should I do in all of this? You realize I am just a farm kid from nowhere, right? I know, I know. You feel that purpose inside of me, or whatever. And? Like, what should--" he asked, trailing off once his words failed him.
"The role of the dungeon's champion is a stressful position. In its own way... but it is far more than your official capacity. Your actual employment for the store will be more stressful than being the dungeon's champion. Stressful thought it is, there are boons to being the champion. One such boon, in addition to the other benefits of being my champion, such as the Core Metric cooldown and the magical boost, is that you can set your own schedule. What I am trying to say, Clark, is you have your entire life to enact my will as my champion. How you locate the core and how you cleanse the ten-thousandth's floor, is entirely up to you."
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Clark's response was iffy, indirect. Though he tried to say something intelligent. "Truly? If I became an independent seller here at Augustford and hired warriors to cleanse the corruption and find the core, that would even be fine? Not that I plan on doing that, per se, just purely as a hypothetical," he remarked, his head taking him faster than his tongue could keep.
S-SIMP chuckled. "Yes, Clark. If you wanted to somehow outsource the labor, you could. Historically speaking, that hasn't ended too well for champions. Maybe you could be the first to succeed!"
As tempting as it sounded to delegate his obligations, he didn't like people enough to painstakingly build a vast web of contacts who were kept loyal to him through some highly profitable enterprise. That sounded tedious. He only liked people enough to sign his name away to a retail super-giant. The two were different, in his eyes.
"No," he said. "I will do my own labors. I like being alone. I wouldn't ever want to achieve my goals only because I have a slave army at my neck-and-call. I can use a weapon, after all. On my way here, I saw death aplenty on the road. Not pleasant, but it's life."
"Honorable, Clark. You will find, however, that there's times in this place where more than honor is needed: ethics, morality, a sense of pragmatics and logic. And a good team at your back never hurt either. Follow the Augustford Core Metrics; push them with your own 'core metrics,' with your sense of self, and I think you will find your path to being my champion soon enough. Any ideas for how you will enact my -- our -- will, now that we are discussing this?"
His mind drew only one conclusion: "You said the source of the plague -- that black goo -- and the monsters are one-in-the same, right?"
"Correct, Clark. Although plague has always been an issue for the store, it has never been a problem on the scale it has been lately. What happened in the executive lounge was a historic disaster for the company."
"Then, I am choosing the Warrior's path and confront the enemy head-on! I will confront this plague with purifying might. With spirit and blade both... though do I really need a sword?"
S-SIMP and he discussed what confronting the enemy head-on meant. It was all fine to have close-combat experience, as he did from his dealings with wild animals and the odd rogue while adventuring toward Augustford Central. But the question remained -- did that experience translate well toward purifying black goop?
The spiritual consciousness told him he would have to use a device called a 'multi-tool,' for all monster confrontations. "Swords are neither effective against monsters born from the ichor nor recommended in the keeping of customer interactions safe. A multi-tool will allow you to safety dispose of monsters while keeping customers secure. I am sure you remember the war-machines on the executive lounge? None of them fared too well against the ooze..." S-SIMP told him and even gave a dramatic pause as if to let the weight of his words sink in. "Usually, I would help you secure a multi-tool. Unfortunately, I remain detethered from the wider Augustford Systems even as my essence bleeds into their actual System-oriented hardware. What all of this means is when it comes time for you to procure resources from the Augustford mercantile system, you will, for the time being, remain as any other person, here."
"Meaning?" he asked, confused about what happened to those supposed perks he had waiting for him as champion.
"Meaning, I will not be of aid to you when you have need of Tower currencies or discounts. You will have to procure for yourself any resources, including, but certainly not limited to -- tools, upgrades, and even food, at least, any food not covered under your daily allotment of Culinary Credits. A day might come where my powers extend to every Augustford System. If that day comes, I will be able to procure for your resources which will both help you in your capacity as my champion as well as putting to good use, hearty resources which would've otherwise gone wasted under Augustford's care. Until that day, your time in this tower will be as common -- relatively speaking -- as the next Augustford Associate's. Tend to your blue box with your life, Clark."
That was a lot to take in, he wasn't going to lie. "So, if I manage my money poorly and don't save enough for food, there's nothing you can do to prevent me from starving to death?"
"Correct."
What Beverage Would YOU Drink if a Spiritual Consciousness was Telling You About a Job?
