Double-Blind: A Modern LITRPG - Chapter 290

While technically the same park Iris and I visited during the necromancer attack, the winding cement path circled a large enough area that both the hospital and tainted playground were entirely out of sight. In truth, I wasn’t sure how else to do this. There were no books to reference, no studies or data to consult, forcing me to make do with forethought and common sense.

The car slowed to a halt, not-Prius’s tires perfectly aligned with the fading white lines of one of the south parking lot’s countless open spaces, and Sae immediately hopped out, fishing a still groggy Kinsley out of the trunk in a flurry of bickering and excitement. In the back seat, Iris didn’t move, eyes glued to the window.

I undid my belt and twisted in the driver’s seat, tapping gently on her shoulder to get my sister’s attention. She started, wide-eyed, panic hidden as quickly as it appeared. But Iris’s curls always bounced with the slightest motion, and she couldn’t quite hide the shaking.

“Talk to me,” I prompted.

“Haven’t… been outside in a while.”

“And?”

“It scares me. In a way it always did, but it’s different now.”

I waited, giving myself a moment to parse. Iris hated complaining almost as much as she disliked keeping other people waiting, to the point it drove her crazy every time Ellison went on one of his stonewalling crusades. For her to be doing both? My sister wasn’t just afraid. She was terrified.

“Well, I had a reason for taking us out here, but if it’s too much, we can go home.”

“But everyone’s already here,” Iris protested, scowling at the suggestion.

I snorted. “Like I care? I’ll go out there right now, tell them I’m too hungover and that we need to save this for another day.”

“Then they’ll be mad at you,” Iris shook her head. But her seatbelt was still locked firmly in place.

“They won’t. Even if they were, your wellbeing is more important. What do I always say?”

“‘If I want to take care of other people, I have to take care of myself first,'” Iris’s gesture was so practiced it was almost dance-like, with a trace of mockery.

“That applies to mental health as much as it does anything else. Maybe more. If you’re truly uncomfortable with something—and I’m talking about the visceral sort of discomfort where pushing through feels like breaching a physical barrier—you owe it to yourself to stop, evaluate how you’re feeling and why, and if necessary, walk away. No matter who’s present or what promises you’ve made.” The sentiment felt hypocritical even as I signed it. Because as much as I believed it to be true, I rarely upheld it myself. It hadn’t always been that way. For most of my teenage years, you could have put me in the hall of fame of removing myself from a bad situation before it went radioactive. At some point over the last few months, I’d lost that. These days, I was more likely to run into a burning building than get clear of the smoke. In some ways, it was an improvement. In general, you tended to make a much better lasting impression on people when you stuck with them through the hard shit, and realistically, before, I was probably too quick to drop everything.

That didn’t change the fact that eventually, I was going to get burned.

“No. I’m going,” Iris unbuckled her seatbelt and murmured aloud. “Just wish my stupid brain wasn’t so afraid.”

I tapped my fingers on the dull gray pleather of the steering wheel before raising them to sign. “And if I told you we—me and Sae—were about to give you a new tool that would help you better manage that fear?”

“Like, a User Ability?” Iris signed curiously, her seatbelt still winding back into the sidewall.

“Something like that.”

In retrospect, it was better to not blindside her with this. Not in front of other people. There’d be more pressure once we were out of the car, a greater onus to just do what the crowd expected and less focus on what she actually wanted. I opened my inventory and scrolled to the potion, then sent her the description, observing her reaction in the rear-view.

Her small face cycled through several emotions in quick succession. Puzzlement, at the large block of dense system text. Excitement for the benefits it could offer her class. Then a slow, dawning realization as she put the pieces together. Silent tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks, and she made a noise that was half-cry, half-laugh. I awkwardly crawled over the console and into the backseat to put my arm around her, surprised as she pushed her face into my chest fiercely.

“Happy tears?” I asked, wanting to be sure.

Iris nodded frantically.

“And you know it’s just because we want you to be safe, not for any other reason?”

My sister nodded again, then stopped, using what seemed like a monumental effort to temper her overflowing excitement. “It seems… really powerful. The sort of thing that could help out a lot of people. People who probably need it more than me.” Her hands wavered, trembling towards the end.

“It’s not that simple,” I said, and when she looked to me, not understanding, I continued. “In truth, if it were up to me, it’d go to you no matter what, even if you were still just a civilian. Right or wrong, that’s my bias. It’s true that countless people were severely injured or maimed during the last transposition, sustaining the sort of harm that healers can’t fix. And even ignoring the unfortunate, there’s plenty of powerful Users on our side that could use the benefits to push the balance of power further in our favor. If there were hundreds, I imagine there’d be a lot more discussion about who to distribute them to. But there’s not hundreds.” I shrugged, switching tact. “Do you know what people call you?”

“The overbearing deaf girl?” Iris tried, a fragment of genuine insecurity behind the half-joke.

“Maybe a few felt that way when you first started and the construction crews still had a stick up their ass, but when they started seeing the results, those people got quiet real fast. They call you the architect. But they talk about you like you’re a traveling genie, roaming around granting wishes.” I gave her a pointed look. “And it’s not just people in our region who feel that way, is it?”

Iris squirmed in her seat, the picture of guilt. “Professor Gideon says I’m at the stage of development where I should take on as much practical, hands-on-work as I can, even if it’s not lucrative. There’s only so much to do around here, and…”

“People get your contact info through word-of-mouth and reach out for help, and you don’t like turning them down.” I finished knowingly. Beyond being Iris’s employer, Kinsley and Iris were close friends, a rarity for them both. Given that, Kinsley rarely breached trust and reported what Iris confided in her, notable exception being any time Iris left the region with an armed escort. There’d been more than a dozen such trips in the last few weeks, covering everything from a fixing a busted sewage line to recreating the framework, foundation, and blueprints for several hospitals identical to the one in our regions. I’d nearly stopped her the first time, and monitored from a distance every time she was in a region we didn’t have an established relationship with in case the request was bait for something more malevolent, but in reality, that’d been mostly unnecessary.

Because Iris didn’t charge for her work. She’d graciously accept gifts, and occasionally payment if the region was wealthy and Kinsley negotiated for her, but for the most part, she provided her services free of charge, taking the experience as payment. As much as I wanted to disapprove, it was a mix of altruism and practicality that made sense. In a way it was almost safer, as along with the goodwill, there was no reason to abduct and force someone to do something they were already willing to do for free.

“I know it’s stupid,” Iris mumbled aloud.

“There was a time in our lives I might have agreed.” I nodded, frowning. “If you reach mastery levels and never start charging for your hard work, or take on projects that potentially give other regions a tactical advantage over us, I reserve the right to give you shit for it. I probably will. But… our circumstances have changed. Monsters and system-bullshit aside, we’re not living hand-to-mouth anymore. We started the most lucrative guild in the city, have the added security of the adventurer’s guild at our beck-and-call. As bad as things might seem from time to time, we’re in a better place now than we ever were. Our basic needs are met. Which means you have more freedom to be who you want to be, rather than who you have to be.”

“You don’t disapprove?” Iris blinked.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s probably smart to back-burner any new requests for the moment until we get a better idea of who attacked us, just for your own safety. But after that…” I ran a hand through my hair. “Do you like helping people?”

Iris hesitated, then nodded agreement. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. You took really good care of us. Sometimes, when things were bad, I tried to imagine how much worse it would be if it was just me, and mom, and Ellison, and that helped. But there were so many problems, and even though you always found a way for us to scrape by, it wore you down. Ellison too. So many times, I wished—prayed—someone amazing would just swoop in and take care of the big things so we’d finally have a break, but that never happened. Because for us, that person didn’t exist. For the longest time that made me angry. At some point after I got my powers, I realized that in some small, specific way, I could be that person. For people who need it just as badly as we did.” She finished, looking equal-parts embarrassed and ashamed. “And I like that.”

I exhaled a long breath. “On some level, I’ll never fully understand your perspective. I’ve been mired in cost-benefit-analysis for so long it’s practically grafted to my DNA. Part of who I am. Thing is, though, my understanding doesn’t matter, and more importantly, you don’t have to be like me. It’s better that you’re not. That outlook is the exact reason you should take the potion. There are selfish reasons, sure, but in the long run, over the course of years, you’ll do a lot more good than some power-leveled User.”

Iris nodded, absorbing that thoughtfully. “So it’s not just a gift, it’s a responsibility.”

“If thinking of it that way makes it easier to accept, sure.”

There was a squeal of tires as Nick peeled into the parking lot, hopping out the driver’s side of his aunt’s truck in a hurry, hefting a duffel bag over his shoulder and lugging a guitar case towards where Kinsley and Sae had already sat a blanket down on a soft-looking section of grass at the crest of a hill. He hollered something inaudible, jogging over to them in a half-sprint.

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“Why’s he in such a hurry?” Iris asked, peering after Nick.

“Because he’s a well-meaning dork, and he doesn’t want to miss the fun part.” I rested a hand on the door-handle. “Are you ready?”

/////

It’s funny, how unfounded fears can be. Caution, being slow to trust, and a small helping of paranoia can serve you well. But unproductive fear can summon imaginary mountains that feel unsurmountable, whether the source of that fear is irrationality, hate, or deceptively simple circumstances blown out of proportion. From the car, to the small sanctum of the picnic blanket, to the second my sister drank the potion, I kept waiting for her to make the same connections as me, and see it as a betrayal. Iris never did. She was all nerves, sure, trouble staying still and shaking just as badly as she had been in the car. But the moment of damnation where the excitement died and she drew into herself never came. If anything, from the way Iris chugged the potion until she almost choked, pausing only when repeatedly reminded to slow down, she was even more excited than she’d let on.

Kinsley leaned over the bizarre, out-of-place stick in her lap and wordlessly handed Iris a canteen of water, nodding encouragement as she took it, guzzling some down between ragged breaths. “Did it taste as bad as it smelled?”

There was a long pause as Iris reluctantly lowered the Canteen, looping the strap around her wrist so she could sign. “No, it was… just kind of overpowering. Weirdly sweet?”

“Like Candy?”

“Maple syrup. But, like, maple syrup that’d been left on the shelf for too long.”

“Ew,” Kinsley wrinkled her nose. “I’ve got snacks if you need something to wash it down.”

Next to me, Nick—still in the overlong process of tuning his hybrid acoustic-electric—leaned over and whispered to Sae. “What’s happening? What’s she saying?”

Sae leaned away from him. “Well, as I’m not a merchant with a highly convenient universal translation feat, what I do know I’ve learned the hard way. None of it seems to be ‘hello, goodbye, I love you, a spelled out name, or get fucked,’ so it’s out of my vocabulary.”

Nick blinked. “Haven’t learned much.”

Sae made the slang sign for get fucked vehemently. “Memorizing the alphabet is like the first section of the massive ASL book they let me borrow, and you’re supposed to internalize that first. That shit takes time.”

“Fair enough.”

“It hasn’t kicked in yet,” I summarized, still watching Iris carefully. She was swaying a bit, favoring one side. It could have been nothing. A leg muscle that fell asleep while she was sitting cross-legged earlier. But on the off-chance it wasn’t, and something went terribly wrong, I’d coordinated with Dr. Ansari, calling in a favor to ensure she was waiting with her equipment in a parking lot nearby.

For perhaps the fifth time, I checked my messages to make sure she hadn’t been pulled away. It wasn’t that I doubted the potion. If anything, I was confident that this one, at least, would work, given the safe assumption that Hastur wanted me on the line for the second.

Just like every other time, there was no further message from the doctor beyond her typically brief, “I’ve arrived.”

What was new was the message from Julian. Which I might have overlooked, if the first word in the message preview wasn’t “Tracker.”

Unexpectedly, I realized I was smiling.

Julien sent back a fist pump emoji. Which was odd, because as far as I knew, it was the absolute first image I’d seen in system chat. And beyond a prompt that allowed the manifestation of an on-screen keyboard for those who preferred to physically type their messages—clunky at best—the rest of the text screen was pretty bare.

“Pressure,” Iris said. Loudly. I snapped to attention, swiping my messages away so my vision was clear. My sister’s hands were over her ears, her eyes wide as she swayed on her feet.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Sae coiled, her casual lounge immediately abandoned as she shifted to get her feet beneath her, ready to spring into action. “She looks like she’s in a lot of…”

Pain. I finished mentally, crouching in front of Iris as Kinsley helped her sit down, waving in front of her eyes and holding up ten fingers once she focused on my hand.

“Seven,” Iris whispered, eyes focusing and unfocusing on my fingers.

“Where?” I mouthed clearly.

She cringed. “Everywhere.”

Fuck, not good. My sister’s bad habit of overlooking her own suffering included self-evaluation. So, realistically, a seven out of ten on the pain scale was closer to a nine. It wasn’t necessarily indicative of a serious problem, as most system-related transformations including summoning or level ups hurt like a bitch, but that wasn’t something I was willing to bet on.

“Fucking Hastur. We need to get her to the doctor, now,” Sae hissed, fists clenching and unclenching.

“Better not to move her until we understand what’s happening,” Nick dropped the guitar and stood. Like a switch had been flicked, his easygoing expression disappeared into the calm visage of a leader. “Matt, consensus?”

“Calling now,” I said aloud, even as I pulled up Ansari’s contact. “Keep her comfortable, don’t let her stand because her balance is probably fucked, and whatever you do, don’t panic and stress her out more.”

Sae propped Iris up and Kinsley held her hand as Nick sprinted towards the parking lot, returning with the entire removable back seat of his truck and placing it down. Iris settled down on the bench, emitting a small whimper that flayed me to my core.

“Breathe,” I made the corresponding sign, speaking it aloud simultaneously.

There was an audible pop, and Iris suddenly stilled, slumping on the truck bench, her expression blank. It spoke to the severity of the experience that she seemed to have forgotten we were there, stirring after a moment and signing. “It stopped.”

“You sure?”

“There’s so much text,” Iris squinted, scanning the imperceptible scrawl. Suddenly she froze, standing shakily to her feet even as Kinsley supported her arm, trembling growing more severe even as her head whipped around, her eyes frantic. “What is that?”

I looked around, heart-dropping as I spotted a familiar person in gray-sweats milling beneath the shade of a tree around ten yards out, partially obscured, doing a near-perfect job of appearing like he wasn’t watching us. It wasn’t a threat, but he wasn’t supposed to be here. Or anywhere near me, really. I reached out to Talia, directing her to drive him off.

But on second look, Iris didn’t seem to be staring at the man at all. She was still looking around wildly, reacting every time the summer breeze—

A surge of emotion tore through me, nearly spilling over before I forced it down. “That’s the wind, kiddo.”

/////

The result was an overwhelming success, though there were aspects of it that were mixed. Iris seemed to mostly understand spoken speech, though I suspected that had more to do with her talent for lip-reading than true comprehension. Speaking aloud was harder, as processing the sound of her own voice seemed to trip her up more than when it was entirely absent.

Though conversing was a bit stop and start, the experience Iris seemed to get the most kick out of was the sound of our voices. Kinsley was sassier than she’d expected, while Sae was more alto than the soprano she’d conceptualized. I, apparently, lacked much of the intensity she’d assumed, and was far more aloof. Only Nick sounded exactly as Iris had imagined, something he took as a point of pride.

“Wonder what mom’s voice sounds like,” Iris signed, hesitantly.

I sighed. “Well, you’ll have to wait for her to stop crying. That’s why she’s not here, figured it would be less overwhelming without her losing it.” I paused, remembering our tense discussion on the night of my birthday. “Might be better to leave this little gathering out, so she doesn’t feel excluded.”

Iris gave me a thumbs up, immediately getting it. “I’ll just tell her you gave me the potion and had to go do Matt things.”

Kinsley snorted, “She’ll definitely believe it.”

“Hey,” I protested.

“Almost got all of that, but what was the thing you did with your nose just now?”

“What thing?” Kinsley asked, confused.

“This?” Sae said, cocking her head back, and snorting in a near perfect imitation of a pig.

Kinsley blanched. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“It’s kind of similar,” Iris signed, nodding to Sae in appreciation.

“No fighting,” I gave them both a weary look, before signing for Iris. “Kinsley snorted. A snort is like a fractional laugh. Something you do when something is either a little funny, or an outright laugh would be rude. It’s not entirely dissimilar from the sound a pig makes, which is the connection Sae is making, and the reason Kinsley looks mildly horrified.”

“Oh. I mean I know what it is, I’ve just never heard it before. You don’t sound like a pig,” Iris immediately encouraged Kinsley, who only scowled at Sae more intensely.

“It’s just gonna take time to gather the mental context,” I added belatedly, leaving it at that.

She looked up at me, daunted. “There’s gonna be a lot of things like that, isn’t there?”

“Remember, if you ever get overwhelmed and it starts to be too much, you have those,” I pointed to the earmuffs around her neck.

“I will,” Iris agreed easily, twiddling her fingers in idle hope. “But I’d really like to hear another song. Can you ask Nick if he’d be willing to play another?”

Damned as I was, I translated the message for Nick, who seemed to melt at the request.

“Absolutely,” Nick smiled widely and hefted the guitar, strap around his neck loosening as he strummed the strings, fiddling with the tuning for what felt like the millionth time. He spoke quietly, low enough that only I could hear, pointedly not looking behind him. “You already clock that guy behind us?”

“Yeah,” I answered, angling my head so Iris couldn’t read my response.

“Didn’t want to look too long, but something about him is familiar.”

“It’s nothing. Talia’s dealing with it.”

“Yet he hasn’t moved,” Nick murmured. “And she can be a scary bitch when she wants to. Sure there’s not a problem?”

I risked a glance to confirm that Nick was right. He was, though I could make out a patch of bright fur through the bushes that covered them both. The man’s body language hadn’t changed, he still looked completely relaxed, but Nick was correct that he’d been rooted to that exact spot for far too long. After a moment, he even gave an awkward wave.

“Talia? There a reason he’s still here?”

Her mental response lagged, taking a bit longer than it should have. “There’s a complication. It’s contained. This is an important moment for your kin, your focus should remain on her.”

“Gonna step out for a second,” I announced, checking in with Iris. “That alright?”

“S’okay,” Iris confirmed, still overtaken by the possibility of another song.

Nick suddenly spoke up, over-serious. “The last few have been light fun, but I want to sing you the song of my people.”

“Nick, please, please, please, no Nickelback,” Sae groaned.

Instead of responding, Nick plucked out the first few notes of Free Bird, and as soon as I was certain Iris was transfixed on the performance, I slipped away, taking the long way around and slipping on the allfather’s mask so she lost track of me. I tamped down on my growing annoyance, reminding myself to be as kind and level-headed as possible.

When I circled around the brush, the truth of Talia’s complication became clear. Talia and the man in the gray-sweats were conversing in low-pitched voices. But the real kicker was the third party—a man in glasses, a button up, and a tie, laid supine, the sweat suit’s foot pressing down on his neck. The blood and bruises were all fresh enough that the altercation likely happened here. He’d been stripped of his wallet and other items in his pockets, a scan card that listed his name and identified him as one of Kinsley’s researchers lined up beside them on the ground.

“Don’t come any closer,” Buzzcut said, watching me carefully. “Identify yourself.”

I took the mask off, and Buzzcut smiled widely, suspicion draining away. “Thought so. Getting better at picking you out when you’re wearing it, but it’s still hard to tell sometimes.”

“You organized his things.”

“Not exactly,” Buzzcut protested. “Just, laid them out in an orderly manner. Only once. Still making progress.”

“Good,” I stared down at the unconscious researcher. “What the hell happened here, initiate?”