The Simulacrum - Chapter 83~ Part 3

“An auction?”

Judy sounded rather intrigued as she swiveled around on my chair, so I pushed myself up from the bed and answered, “That’s what dad-in-law told me yesterday. It’s something they just do whenever there’s a big congregation of Eastern Draconians.”

“So it’s a tradition?”

“Something like that,” I said with a shrug.

In case it wasn’t obvious, we were in my room at the moment. Judy came over after school, and we’ve been discussing things, experimenting, and fooling around in equal measure, as usual. I was on a break at the moment, so she took my place in front of the PC, and the conversation somehow ended up on this particular topic.

“That’s unexpected,” my dearest assistant murmured under her breath, so I shrugged again.

“It’s just a thing they do. Old Draconians are apparently unabashed compulsive hoarders. They probably got it from their scaly side of the family tree. Sebastian slowly collects whatever cursed curio tickles his fancy over the span of decades, while the Eastern Draconian elders prefer holding big, fancy auctions to gather all kinds of unique stuff in one fell swoop.”

“I still don’t see how that’s going to help you. We’re looking for rare materials, not artifacts.”

“One and the same. The latter just requires some disassembly first,” I responded with a smirk. “Not only that, but they say that a lot of independents and even some of the Schools view these auctions as a chance to sell their wares to the highest bidder, so it should be a good opportunity to get our hands on some extra rare things. Abram said he’ll spread the news, and we even managed to get Sebastian to put up a few of his less sentimental doodads for auction to drum up some interest.”

For the first time in a while, my stoic girlfriend looked downright flabbergasted.

“How did you manage that?”

“I had Elly use puppy-dog-eyes. It was super effective.”

She let out an eminently impressed hum, much to my gratification. Sebastian might be a Scrooge, but even millennia-old dragons are weak against their great-granddaughters.

“When will the auction be held?” came my assistant’s next question, and one I could only frown at.

“I haven’t the foggiest. Unless the Simulacrum decides to be helpful and conjures up a venue out of thin air, it should take some time to organize it. My bet’s on doing it after the conference.”

“So the weekend after this one.” I nodded a tad ambivalently, but Judy didn’t seem to mind, and instead she asked the most obvious question. “Are we going to participate?”

“Not if we can help it. It sounds like it will lead to all kinds of annoying shenanigans. Let’s just leave it to the people already experienced with this kind of stuff.”

“So, Abram and Sebastian.”

“Yep. We’ll have more than enough annoying crap to deal with already, so the last thing I need is getting involved in a crazy bidding war scenario with all the related tropes.”

“By ‘annoying crap’, I presume you mean the Eastern Draconians’ penchant for dueling. The thing you mentioned this morning.” I grunted in the affirmative. “It does sound like an awfully convenient plot device for some engineered conflicts.”

I couldn’t agree more if I tried.

“I know, right? It’s so in your face, in any other circumstances, I’d half expect it to be a red herring.”

“I don’t think the Narrative is subtle enough for something like that.”

“And that’s precisely why I’m already preparing for the inevitable.”

“Are you planning again?” she inquired, and after some consideration, I shook my head.

“I wish I could, but for that, I’d have to know what to expect. Which, if I might add, would be much simpler if not for the Chinese Draconians coming up with half a dozen different kinds of duels just to complicate my life.”

“So no nefarious secret plans this time around,” she noted, but before I could object to her choice of adjectives, she cut me off by asking, “In that case, can you tell me about those half a dozen different duels you mentioned?”

I glanced at the clock, then back at her, and ultimately uttered a simple, “Sure.”

“A moment, please,” she said and swiveled the chair around, only to do it in reverse once she picked up her phone from my computer desk. She assumed her usual note-taking position, then gestured to me with a soft, “Proceed.”

I inhaled a deep breath, properly sat up on my bed, and did just so.

“After a long discussion with the men of the Dracis family, I narrowed things down to three different and distinct kinds of pains in the ass our future guests could inflict on me.”

After the preamble, I waited for Judy to stop typing, and only then did I elaborate.

“The first is the closest thing to a proper duel. It’s about two combatants squaring off in a ring surrounded by witnesses. However, if dad-in-law’s description was accurate, it’s less of a deathmatch, but more of an elaborate pissing contest with magical martial arts. First one side makes a fancy move, then the other, and they keep going back and forth until one of them gives up. Gawking onlookers are optional, but highly recommended.”

“Sounds fairly simple to me.”

“Sure, but since I have no flashy magical moves of the martial variety, I really want to avoid this one. Unfortunately, since this is for people in the same ‘generation’, I’d probably get challenged to one by Elly’s unwanted admirer sooner or later.”

“In that case, you better start learning some of those super attacks. I recommend practicing one that lets you fire laser beams from your sword.”

“… I don’t think that’s a thing, even in magical swordsman circles,” I pointed out, and I should know. I was technically the leader of the oldest operating group of swordsmen who ever magicked in the history of sword-magicking. That said, I made a mental note to ask Cal about this later, just in case.

Meanwhile, Judy scoffed at me and declared, “Please, Chief. I have it on good authority that a swordsman cannot be considered as such if they cannot fire beams from their sword. It’s a quote originating from famous Japanese samurai and Shinsengumi captain, Okita Soji.”

“Let me guess: you found it on the internet.”

“Obviously,” she told me with gratuitous solemnity, only to then add, “It’s a well-known fact that every quote on the internet is perfectly sourced and always accurate, and it must be true, because Mark Twain said so. Or was it Winston Churchill? One or the other.”

“Oh, I see. In that case, it must be true indeed,” I said with an unsubtle roll of my eyes, then continued in a more serious tone. “I’m not planning to learn how to shoot beams just yet, because I’m not going to play along and duel the guy in the first place.”

“But then what about your image as the famous and powerful Chimera Slayer of Critias?” Judy teased me (or at least I hope she did), and so I promptly rolled my eyes again.

“Oh please, Dormouse. I’m rich, unnecessarily influential, and I have not one but two awesome girlfriends already. Why would I need to prove myself to anyone?”

“A fair point,” she soon concluded, tapping at her phone. “I believe we were at the kinds of duels the Eastern Draconians would theoretically use to annoy you.”

“Right,” I whispered and took a deep breath to center myself. “The first one was for people in the same generation, as nebulous as that sounds. The second most probable kind I could get tangled in is the reverse of that: it’s a kind of ‘duel’ for different generations. Though, on second thought, calling it a ‘contest’ might be more accurate. Or maybe trial? Anyhow, the first part of this flavor of kerfuffle is apparently the same, with the squaring in the ring and all that stuff, but instead the ‘elder’ is supposed to strike the ‘junior’ with three ‘techniques’, and if the latter can still stand on their own legs at the end, it’s considered their win.”

“That’s an odd tradition,” Judy noted, and I vehemently agreed.

“I’ve no idea who came up with this or why they still call it a duel, but it’s a thing, and it could happen for the banalest of reasons. Emese said she was once challenged by an elderly Draconian who was a guest at her parents’ house just because she wasn’t giving her ‘face’, whatever the hell that means. Nothing came of it, but if her anecdote can be used as an indication, it’s likely something older Draconians of the Eastern persuasion might be a bit overzealous about.”

“And since you have a track record when it comes to misappropriating older people’s faces, you realized you are very likely to get involved in one such duel. Very self-aware of you, Chief. I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, ha ha ha. Very funny. Also, what does ‘misappropriating someone’s face’ even mean?”

“I don’t know. I’ll research it later.”

That exchange required another eye roll, and once I was done with that, I returned to the topic at once.

“So, these two kinds of challenges are the most likely to crop up during the Eastern Draconians’ stay, but there’s one last possibility that would be simultaneously the most annoying and the least troublesome: a no-holds-barred duel within a Purple Zone. It’s considered a serious deal, so it cannot be invoked just because someone looked at someone else funny, but it’s also the biggest deal, as it can be used to settle serious disputes.”

“That sounds kind of like the Knights’ Arbitration,” Judy noted on the side, and she wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Kinda, but with the one difference that large-scale collateral damage is not only a possibility, but expected. According to Sebastian, they used to be extremely rare, because a full-fledged fight between older Draconians could ruin the countryside, but ever since the Eastern Draconians got more involved with the world and got exposed to Purple Zones, they are becoming more common.”

“And you expect to get challenged to one of these?”

“Depends. Elly’s unwanted admirer will likely try to challenge me to the first kind, there are a million and one scenarios the second kind could be triggered, while I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll get challenged to the last type over the Knights. Either way, I’m hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, as usual.”

“Very prudent of you.”

“Thank you, I’m doing my best as usual.”

“Anything else to add to the topic of suspiciously convenient dueling traditions?” When I shook my head, Judy put her phone away and asked, “Should we get started with the experiment then?”

“We might as well. It’s getting late, and you’ll have to go home soon.”

“Time flies in good company.”

That unexpectedly cheeky comment drew a small chuckle out of me, and I agreed with a perfectly honest, “It sure does,” as I got off the bed.

“Before we start,” my assistant stopped me on my track just as I was about to reach for the collection of identical white mugs on my shelf. “I’m in the mood for some hot cocoa. What about you?”

“I certainly won’t turn down a cup of tea,” I answered absentmindedly, and Judy rose to her feet at once.

“Very well. I’ll ask Neige if she also wants one. I’ll be right back.”

And just like that, my girlfriend left the room. It was a little sudden, but then again, she did tell me the last time that watching me play with tea mugs made her thirsty, so maybe she’s just thinking ahead. In any case, since she vacated my chair, I changed my destination and sat down in front of the PC instead.

Since Judy was the last one to use it, there was an eclectic mixture of open tabs in my browser, ranging from wiki articles about French philosophers to the obligatory funny animal videos. This time it was a tiny otter, and it was pretty gosh darn adorable.

But putting the cute furballs aside, there was one familiar tab with a notification mark on it, and after suppressing whatever flavor of breath was about to escape my throat, I opened it up.

However, contrary to my expectations, it wasn’t Mike who was filling up my PM box on the hub this time.

“MoroseMoose: Hey, Admin?”

“MoroseMoose: Sorry for bothering you over something like this, but I’m getting spammed all day today.”

The messages were roughly twenty minutes old, but I still typed out an answer.

“Admin: … Is it Ninja?”

Moose’s avatar lit up the moment I finished typing my educated guess.

“MoroseMoose: Of course it’s him.”

“MoroseMoose: He’s been pestering me for advice with his girlfriend.”

“MoroseMoose: Even though I’m literally the last person on this planet anyone should ask for love advice.”

“Admin: … Aren’t you already married?”

“MoroseMoose: I don’t see how that fact has anything to do with the topic whatsoever.”

“MoroseMoose: More importantly, can you give him some advice in my stead?”

“Admin: Why me?”

“MoroseMoose: Aren’t you dating Assistant?”

“Admin: I don’t see how that fact has anything to do with the topic whatsoever.”

“MoroseMoose: Ouch.”

“MoroseMoose: Touché.”

“MoroseMoose: “Seriously though, he’s going to drive me crazy at this rate. Can’t you do something?”

“Admin: Just mute him.”

“MoroseMoose: Wait, I can do that?!”

“What are you doing?” came a sudden question from behind me, and right after that my favorite ‘I <3 Coffee’ mug landed in front of me in all its ironic glory. After putting it down, Judy rested her chin on my shoulder, probably so that she could see the screen, so I didn’t even look up from typing as I answered.

“I’m teaching Moose how to mute the PM notifications on the Hub.”

“Is W1ng3n1nj4 being a nuisance again?”

Needless to say, she still pronounced all the numbers in Mike’s online nickname, but by this point, I was sure she was doing it on purpose, and pointing it out would’ve been my loss, so instead I told her, “As usual. He’s stressing over his relationship with Ammy.”

“I still have a hard time believing that’s a thing that happened off-screen,” my girlfriend noted, and that finally made me glance up at her.

“Speaking of that, what exactly qualifies as ‘off screen’ anyway?”

Judy pondered the question quite seriously, so I used the opportunity to take a sip from my tea. It was great, as usual. I don’t know if it was due to the old butler’s tutelage or just her own efforts, but by this point I had to admit the tea she made was better than my own brews. I was just about to praise her beveraginary handiwork, but I was beaten to the punch by her answering my previous question with one of her own.

“Who’s the point of view?”

“That’s a good question,” I mused between two sips. “But I raise you a better one: if there’s a point of view, who’s watching?”

“If anyone can figure that out, it’s you,” she responded before taking a sip from her own cup, and I couldn’t really argue with that.

“Well then, I guess we should get started and hope that I can find something this time. Could you grab the mugs while I finish writing this?”

“On it.”

Once she stepped back, I gave my concise instructions to Moose and subsequently excused myself, and by the time I finished, I had a series of identical white porcelain drinking containers lined up in front of me. Judy also stepped to the side and set her phone up so that it would record me and my vicinity, and after some adjustments, gave me a thumb up. In the meantime, I closed the hub and turned towards her.

“All right, this is mug experiment…”

“Seven,” she commented, and I nodded along.

“Seven it is.” After saying so, I reached out and put one mug aside. “This is our control.”

“Noted.”

“As for today’s experiment…” I picked up the next mug, and after some thinking, I concluded with, “Let’s try changing the color and the shape at the same time, and see how long it’ll last.”

“I’ll start the timer on your mark.”

Once we agreed on that, I took a deep breath, and gingerly extended one of my Phantom Limbs towards the mug. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve simply passed right through, but this time I consciously willed it into the object in front of me. At first it stopped, as if hitting an invisible barrier, but then my ethereal appendage slowly but surely plunged into it like water flowing into a hole, pulling my consciousness along with it.

As it happened, the outside world slowly melted away, like it was an oil painting someone poured thinner all over. At the same time, the mug in my hand began to shimmer and bleed into the dissolving world. I maintained my calm and focused all my attention on it, and before long the mug split. Not broke, but rather it was like how a cell would go through division, resulting in two seemingly identical items. Then those split, then the resulting ones did too, and in just a couple of seconds I was staring into a kaleidoscope of white mugs overlapping, merging, and splitting again and again in a chaotic mess.

The first time this happened, it nearly knocked me unconscious, but by this point I had enough experience with the phenomenon to know where to stop, and it was at the point where the concept of the ‘mug’ in front of me began to ‘branch out’ to encompass and incorporate any and all porcelain beverage containers with one handle. I forcefully stopped the process, though it would be hard to explain how I did it. To come up with an analogy, it was kind of like trying to purposefully suppress an earworm song that’s stuck in one’s head. It was tricky, and I couldn’t maintain it for long, so I worked as fast as I could and picked one of the mugs out of the literal millions in front of me, and once I grabbed hold of it with my second Phantom Limb, I dragged it over the physical object still in my physical hand.

This was the biggest breakthrough I’ve had with my powers recently, and also the biggest change compared to my first foray into the world of infinite mugs or what have you. Back then, I used a single Phantom Limb to explore this space. Let’s call it the ‘root directory’ of the Simulacrum. During my original attempt, I had to anchor myself and explore at the same time, and when I tried to interact with the world more deeply, I lost my footing and suffered a backlash. This time, I used one to stabilize my presence, while my other ethereal appendage would do the heavy lifting. I still had to be careful, so I was only playing around in the shallow end of the pool, but I was certainly making some progress.

Speaking of progress, there was strong resistance, but a non-insurmountable one, and I managed to very, very carefully superimpose the new mug on the old one. Then, with an inaudible ‘pop’, kind of like when a puzzle piece falls into place, the two images snapped together and I was instantly pushed out of my trance.

I gasped for air, and after reorienting myself, uttered a flat “Mark,” prompting Judy to start her stopwatch. It was only then that I took a closer look at the item in my hand. It was undeniably a mug, but its color was just a hint yellowed, and its ear just a touch wider. Honestly, it was hard to tell the difference at first glance, but that’s why we had a control sample, so I placed it right next to that one.

Without any further ado, I picked up another mug and repeated the process. It was more or less the same process, except this time I went a little further, so this one ended up visibly greener. For the next one, I focused on the shape instead, and managed to make it round, while the next one ended up so flat it barely qualified as a mug anymore. More of a novelty Frisbee, maybe? That one took way more effort, and I had to catch my breath for a minute afterwards.

Honestly speaking, I had no idea exactly what I was doing, but that never stopped me from trying. If I had to make an educated guess though, it kind of felt like I was directly interacting with the very bottom strata of the Simulacrum, replacing one asset with another.

Now, while that might sound amazing, there was a huge caveat: the change wasn’t permanent. I had no idea why, but after using this… what should I even call this? Reality hack? Whatever it was, it could only change the properties of an item for a few minutes. Take the first mug as an example; just a second or so after I put it down, the air around it started shimmering like the pavement in the summer heat, and through a slow process, it would return to its original shape.

Once it was no longer distinguishable from our control sample, Judy declared, “Three minutes, fourteen seconds.”

“So it was about the same time as when I only changed the color,” I noted, and she nodded along.

I glanced at the other experimental items, and they were covered in the same glistening haze. Judy couldn’t see it, and it felt distinctly different from the colorless magical light I was really familiar with already, so it was obviously significant. I just didn’t exactly know how.

“Did you get any new insights?” Judy inquired and picked up the first mug to observe it from up close.

“Not much,” I answered with one hand already massaging my temple. “I have this gut feeling when I’m looking at them transform back into their original forms, but that’s all.”

“I’m still listening,” she told me and put the mug down, so I collected my thoughts the best as I could.

“It doesn’t feel like an active process, so I don’t think the Simulacrum is trying to correct their shapes. It’s more like heat, maybe? As in, I imparted something into the item, it gets dissipated into the environment over time, and as a result, the changes get undone.”

“I kind of understand your analogy, but kind of don’t,” Judy grumbled, but I could only shrug.

“That makes two of us. This whole thing is completely unintuitive. It’s just… I feel like I’m doing something wrong and that I should be able to make the change permanent, I just have to figure out how.” I paused here to pick up the next mug and stated, “Anyhow, the headache is getting worse, so this is the last one for today. I’ll try to push the boundaries a bit this time.”

“Chief, that’s your—”

Judy’s objection was melted away with the rest of the outside world, though it didn’t take me long to realize what she was trying to warn me about. Without meaning to, I accidentally picked up my favorite cup, still half-full with tea. I would’ve rolled my eyes if I knew where my body was at the moment, and I tried to pull back, only to stop and pause in puzzlement. The feeling was… different this time.

It was hard to tell what was different though. The kaleidoscope of mugs was the same as always, and I was still inside some kind of non-Euclidian dream-space filled with audible tastes and colorful scents, but something was definitely odd. It was more… how should I put this? Comfortable? Cozy? Kind of like the perception equivalent of a warm pair of socks in a lone winter night.

Was it because I was more familiar with my own mug? Or was there a deeper reason? Either way, the sensation was both uncanny and yet invigorating, and it smelled like feldgrau. That was the color of the scent of opportunity, by the way. Did I mention this space was bloody weird yet?

More importantly, I focused my attention on the medley of ‘I <3 Coffee’ mugs arrayed in front of me, and pushed deeper. As I did, the scenery in front of me expanded. Around me, the overlapping images formed some kind of superstructure reminiscent of tree branches, or a tangle of roots. It superficially reminded me of how neurons were depicted in CG animations, except there were no static nodes. Each time my attention shifted, the whole place followed suit, with nodes, branches, and connections constantly shifting around. It was a little nauseating, but it says something about my life that it was the only negative effect this tapestry of weirdness inflicted on me.

There was no time to waste though. While this unexpected break allowed me to go a bit ‘deeper’, it also made my connection more unstable, and even while supporting myself with both of my Phantom Limbs, I could only maintain my current state for a short time. I could theoretically go even ‘deeper’, but the last time I did that, I almost fried my brain and gave myself the second worst headache ever, so I didn’t push my luck. So, what could I do with this?

The question became considerably more urgent as my connection shook again. Since I couldn’t think of anything better on short notice, I grabbed hold of a suitable mug. Of course, that meant that now I only had one Phantom Limb anchoring me, and as the world around me became even shakier, I used the last of my focus to forcefully slap the new image onto the mug in my hand. To my shock and alarm, instead of the familiar ‘pop’, there was a low, rumbling hum that sounded like it was building up to an explosion of sourness, but before I could experience it, I was expelled from my daze with a loud gasp.

“—own mug.”

I blinked at Judy. Doing this always had some kind of time dilation in play, but this was the first time seemingly no time had passed at all.

“Well, that could’ve been much—” ‘worse’, I wanted to say, but the last word was replaced by a pained hiss escaping between my clenched teeth when I spike of agony nailed itself into my brain. The sensation only lasted for a second, rapidly mellowing into a comparatively pleasant migraine that didn’t slip my girlfriend’s notice.

“Chief? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I think,” I responded while massaging my temple. “I tried to modify my mug and… Holy moly!”

“What?” she uttered in alarm, and I pointed at said mug. There was a long beat of silence, but then she leaned closer to take a closer look, only to glance at me and repeat, “What?” in a considerably more confused tone.

“I had a small breakthrough. Look! I modified it, but there’s no sign of it reverting back!”

“You changed what?” my dear assistant asked again, this time sounding just a little bit puzzled.

“The mug?” I told her with an equally perplexed glance.

Now, to be fair, the change wasn’t drastic at all. It was still a perfectly ordinary mug; cylindrical, white, it had a single handle; it was a totally normal, perfectly average container of warm beverages… except it was saying ‘I <3 Tea’ on the side.

For a few seconds we both stayed silent, but while I thought it was because Judy was trying to comprehend the implications, she just became more and more bewildered until she finally asked, “What am I supposed to look at?”

“… The text on it,” I told her patiently, yet she still didn’t seem to get it, so I spelled it out for her. “It used to say ‘I heart coffee’ on it.”

This time her eyes narrowed into a squint as she stared at me like I just told her breakfast was my favorite mode of transportation.

“Chief, your mug always said ‘I heart tea’.”

“No, it didn’t,” I denied by reflex.

“You never drank coffee from it,” she countered.

“That’s the point. It’s ironic,” I answered her with a slowly rising sense of alarm. “I told you this when you went out to buy a mug for your own. I thought that’s why you bought that ‘I heart my boss’ mug, so that our mugs would match. Ironically, I mean.”

Based on Judy’s expression, I must’ve been saying something monumentally silly, and she told me, “No Chief, I bought it because I really hearted you even back then.”

“I know, but…” I looked back and forth between my girlfriend and my mug, and as I did so, an astounding realization reared its head in the back of my mind. I silently swallowed, then I asked her one last time, “Judy, are you one hundred percent sure it didn’t say ‘coffee’ on it?” She nodded confidently, and I couldn’t help but let out an uncontrollable chuckle as I began to accept the implications.

“Chief?” Judy touched my shoulder as a hint of worry crept into her deadpan voice, probably concerned by my behavior, but I couldn’t help it. I was so giddy I even forgot about my headache for a second.

It took a while, but I got my voice under control and looked her in the eye with what I hoped was a not too disturbing smile, and told her, “Don’t freak out Dormouse, but I think I just retconned my mug.”