The booth looks plain enough—bare wood counters, humming runes, an assortment of sealed scrolls floating gently in containment rings. But above it, a single enchanted sigil pulses softly with the vendor’s tagline:

  “The Interface Emporium – Nootropic Interface Imprints for the Ascendant Mind.”

  Each scroll is labeled—not just with a name, but with an Author, Title, Specialization, and, chillingly, a personal philosophy. Tiny inscriptions glow beneath the seals: “Emotion is a Pattern. Pattern is a Weapon.” Or “Death is Just an Incomplete Observation.”

  Aster tilts his head. “And these are what, like… journals with opinions?”

  “More like personalities,” Musa says. “Or what’s left of them when stripped of everything except contextual understanding. Career Archivists who dedicated their entire lives to the act of knowing—not just information, but pattern. Perspective.”

  He gestures to the scrolls.

  “They’re called Nootropic Interface Imprints,” Musa continues. “Or NII, if you want to sound like you’ve been here more than twenty minutes. Each one is the echo of a cultivator who mastered their field so completely that their understanding of reality stuck. Their thoughts, deemed too important to disappear, becomes commercially valuable instead, monetize their very personality and insight for profit. They wanted to be more than remembered. They wanted to be paid.”

  Aster raises a brow. “So they’re... sentient?”

  “Not exactly. But they’re close enough to argue with.” Musa smirks. “They have moods. Opinions. They’ll argue with each other if you install more than one. You should think of them more as impressions—crafted overlays. Each one is a guided interface, a lens forged from a lived genius.”

  “And people pay for that?” Aster asks.

  “People fight for that,” Musa says. “If an Author’s perspective is sharp enough, resonant enough, it could be the difference of having your friend be your advisor or Socrates. Influences and insight that can genere real-world currency. A small empire’s riches can be grown from the fat of their insight. You’re looking at lifelong careers built on cognition.”

  Aster blinks. “So they monetized… being interesting?”

  “Being useful,” Musa corrects. “Interesting dies in the marketplace. Usefulness earns multi-generational royalties. And trust me, with Reincarnation being a thing, that’s a lot more useful than hoping your kids don’t squander it on drugs.”

  He nods toward the scrolls displayed on the front desk.

  Aster’s Nootropic Display pops up as he views the scrolls on the shelf labeled ‘POPULAR.’

  ?? Darwin’s Lens

  Biological Archive of Charles D.

  ? Specialty: Evolutionary Response Modeling

  ? Tone: Distant, clinical, fascinated by adaptation through trauma

  ? Interface Insight: “This beast developed secondary lungs in response to mist toxicity. Intriguing. Survival through suffering—it’s poetic, really.”

  Price: 1,800 Faith

  ?? Crowley’s Codex

  Runic Deconstruction Library of Aleister C.

  ? Specialty: Occult Resonance, Symbolic DNA

  ? Tone: Smug, riddling, 80% helpful, 20% probably cursed

  ? Interface Insight: “Observe the sigil on its spine. That’s a Binding Hex, reversed. Which means either it was once someone’s familiar—or it still is.”

  Price: 2,500 Faith

  ?? Smith’s Ledger

  Spiritual Economic Treatise of Adam S.

  ? Specialty: Soul Valuation, Cultivation Investment, Market-Adjusted Threat Ratings

  ? Tone: Cold, efficient, visibly disappointed in emotional choices

  ? Interface Insight: “Spiritual ROI: Low. Faith upkeep: Excessive. Recommend liquidation—unless bonded for social clout.”

  Price: 3,900 Faith

  Aster’s eye twitches as he skims the prices. Some of the higher scrolls are priced in the tens of thousands, with the top-shelf ones nearing a hundreds of thousand—not just in Faith, but cross-referenced with real-world asset conversions, artefact trade-ins, and karmic financing that starts at three consecutive reincarnations.

  He hovers over one particularly sleek scroll and is immediately assaulted by a financing breakdown that includes karmic loan options, heirloom soulbonded relic trade-ins, and a drop-down list for “acceptable offspring pledges.”

  His voice comes out flat. “So… professional overthinkers. Paid like influencers at a Dubai prince’s birthday.”

  Musa snorts. “They’re sanctimonious, self-aware, and they charge you to see the world through their trauma. But worth every cent—if you can stomach the commentary.”

  Aster gives the scrolls a long, exhausted glare. “Great. A questionable subjective reality, hidden behind a paywall.”

  He turns away from the popular shelf, thoroughly unwilling to bankrupt himself for what sounds like the academic version of getting negged by a dead philosopher. As his gaze sweeps the booth, his display gives a soft hiccup—DISCOUNT – 97% OFF—then flickers away again.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Aster, who has spent his whole life primed for discount hunting, zones in like a police dog with a cocaine addiction.

  There, just behind the vendor, mostly hidden by a curtain—a shelf. Or part of one. The scan UI twists and glitches around it like it’s trying not to acknowledge its existence.

  Aster steps forward.

  The vendor moves with unnatural speed, planting himself in Aster’s path with a smile that says everything’s fine, please stop trying to see the void.

  “Ah, sir! Might I suggest one of our curated recommendations?”

  Aster leans sideways. The vendor mirrors him with terrifying grace.

  He steps left. So does the vendor.

  Aster takes a casual step back, fakes a yawn, then pivots like a bored tourist. And there—just for a blink—his display lights up:

  ?? Blenkinsop’s Beast Binder

  Field Notes of Baelor Blenkinsop

  ? Titles: “Wild Sage of Viscid Gulch,” “Magical Steve Irwin”

  ? Specialty: Faunal Temperament, Ecological Sympathy, Reproductive Resistance Metrics

  ? Tone: Ecstatic. Irreverent. Obsessed with whether creatures are “down to clown.”

  ? Interface Insight: “This little darling? Look at that spine! Probably defends territory with venom and mood swings. 10/10 would court, respectfully.”

  Warning: Prone to poetic tangents and unsolicited romantic commentary

  Price: 45 Faith

  Aster lights up. “That one.”

  The vendor goes corpse-pale. “No. Absolutely not. That NII is condemned. It’s on the Council’s Destroy on Sight list.”

  He wrings his hands. “I haven’t done it yet because I still need a destruction permit. It’s classified as a tether-corrupting mnemonic contaminant. The last customer reported it tried to initiate a courtship with their cultivation pet mid-combat. They were fighting a hydra.”

  “Then why’s it on sale?” Aster asks.

  “It’s not! That’s the tether distortion! It hijacks local metadata to trick people into buying it! It wants to be installed. It’s… persuasive.”

  Aster spots a flickering green icon at the bottom of the scroll. “Says here ‘Purchase,’ though.”

  “No! Don’t touch tha—”

  He clicks it.

  The interface pings cheerfully.

  PURCHASED.

  The scroll glows faintly green. Possibly in triumph.

  Aster turns back to the horrified vendor. “Well. I bought it?”

  The vendor stares at him like he’s just eaten asbestos and asked if it counted as fiber.

  Musa, oblivious to the transaction, is examining a combat-focused NII nearby. He recoils like Aster just brought plutonium to a toddler’s birthday and asked where the fondue pot was when Aster shows him the purchased NII.

  “No. Not that NII. It’s been discontinued and is the equivalent of getting spiritual herpes. I once heard it describe a Mimic Nest as ‘a sexy bouquet of teeth.’ You definitely do not want that voice stuck in your mind.”

  Aster clutches the bargain NII like the goose he caught when he discovered the geese at the local pond weren’t technically owned by anyone. “It was literally less than fifty Faith.”

  “And it will haunt your sleep with lustful descriptions of crustaceans!” Musa hisses.

  “Sounds like enrichment to me,” Aster says, cradling the scroll radiating insanity like a young girl clutching a stray dingo puppy she’s already named Snuffles.

  Musa looks haunted. “No. I mean it! It won’t stop. I heard about someone who scanned a rat—a literal astral equivalent of a sewer rat—and the scroll gave a ten-minute breakdown on how to court it romantically. Swamp frog perfume, mating posture suggestions, and at one point, a line about ‘earning its trust with poetry and the right vocal squeak frequency.’”

  He swallows. “I couldn’t unhear the phrase ‘consensual tail presentation.’”

  “It had only been forty-five Faith, though…” Aster says, with the slow, delusional certainty of someone defending Snuffles after the inevitable mauling.

  Musa pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to regret this. You think saving Faith is always the better option. It’s not. You’re choosing the metaphysical equivalent of pirated antivirus software from a forum that also sells cursed NFTs.”

  “That sounds like capitalism,” Aster says. “I’m used to it.”

  Musa looks like he ages five years in five seconds.

  The scroll vibrates happily as Aster connects his Will to it, releasing a small puff of lavender dust as its prompt window pops up.

  [??] Compatible Scan Interface Detected. Install “Blenkinsop’s Beast Binder”?

  [YES]??[NO]

  Musa hovers like a man watching a toddler juggle grenades.

  “You have five seconds to change your mind before it bonds to your—”

  Too late. Aster’s Will brushes the prompt marked [YES].

  Aster stumbles slightly, grabbing the edge of the counter as warmth flares behind his eyes. His vision doubles—once in the booth, once in a bog. Something wet giggles. The scroll’s presence slithers into his mind like a too-eager tour guide.

  “Welcome, glorious biped! Oh, you smell like latent potential and repressed kink. Shall we begin?”

  Repressed kink!? Aster mutters in dawning horror.

  The scroll vibrates with joy. Another puff of lavender escapes its surface and turns into a tiny illusion: a newt in a top hat, doffing it with a bow before diving into Aster’s chest like his ribcage is a pond.

  “Calibration complete! I now understand 63% of your libido-adjacent preferences. This will help when scanning fauna.”

  “Why would that help—”

  “Trust me, darling. Every creature flirts with death. I just read the pheromones.”

  ?? [System Update: Scan Interface Installed]

  — Archive Loaded: Blenkinsop’s Beast Binder

  ? Interface Traits:

  Emotional Bond Detection

  Pre-Mating Threat Displays

  Environmental Adaptation Sympathy Index

  “Down-To-Clown” Scale

  ? Mood: Delighted

  ? Stability: 61%

  ? Sanity: Questionable

  —

  Disclaimer: Developer commentary cannot be muted.

  The interface settles in with an unsettling purr. Aster blinks, bracing for a rush of madness or metaphorical flirtation from the inside of his own skull.

  Nothing.

  No visions. No hives. Just a mild urge to moisturize and a vague awareness that the air now has undertones.

  Musa eyes him sideways. “You feel anything weird yet?”

  Aster rotates his shoulders. “Define weird.”

  “Like… like the world’s trying to court you. Or like something’s breathing against your third eye while making direct emotional eye contact.”

  Aster considers. “Not really. I feel… filtered. Like the world’s wearing mood lighting.”

  Musa squints. “Yeah. That tracks.”