Time, Ben found, moved differently around immortals. There was a dichotomy between how quickly they could move and think and react, and the pace at which they made decisions and took action. For instance, if Ben had been held captive by a human being, or some other mortal creature, he almost certainly would have immediately been forced to choose a [Quest] skill.

To the Chief Executive, a month of lag time between deciding to choose Ben’s [Quest] skill and actually following through was, to him, uncomfortably close to making a snap decision. He was already reeling from how quickly he’d slapped some golden handcuffs on Ben and forced him to work for The Vault. That was normally the sort of thing he’d have taken at least a decade to let sit in his mind, just to get comfortable with the idea.

Luckily, very luckily, Ben had turned out to be a very good idea. The [Prince of Wonders] had thrown himself into his work and was adapting to life as a Vault employee startlingly well. He devoted every waking moment of his life to learning what he needed to learn, and then immediately moving on to more advanced training. The Chief Executive glanced down at ‘The Numbers’ for Ben’s- he mean, Neeman’s department. The Chief Executive frowned and thought, ‘when did I start calling it Ben’s department?’, and then shook the thought off and moved on. Neeman’s department was doing well. Very well. Extremely well, and was far outperforming what Ben’s skills should have been able to produce based on his [Skills]. The reason was simple.

Ben moved at the blistering speed of mortality, and everyone he came into contact with was caught up to start moving at the exact same speed. Ideas and changes that would have taken years before were now executed flawlessly in moments. Ben had rallied his co-workers with energy and enthusiasm, had inspired them to be the number one department in The Vault.

According to The Numbers, he was succeeding.

--

Ben obviously had a scheme about this whole bank business, but that particular golden egg wasn’t quite ready to hatch just yet.

No, today was about something different. Today was the day Ben became absolutely repulsed, disgusted even, at the idea of continuing to be [Magical]. He thought he’d gotten used to it, but day after day of the feeling of being made of smooth, squeaky, dry balloons had finally made him snap. Plus, he was naturally starting to convert back to physical matter, and it felt super gross. It was like a patchwork lattice of physical matter suspended in a super-dry rubbery [Magical] hologram- well it wasn’t so much like that, as literally exactly being that.

He had convinced his manager to give him a standard American work week; forty hours over five days, followed by two days off. Today was his Saturday, and Ben had a mission: Reconnect with the recently rescued remains of Mice Labs and work out a solution to being [Magical].

But before he did that, he had some shopping to do. Ben, determined to abuse the living shit out of his borrowed authority, donned his official Vault uniform, sent out a messenger drone to his work to tell them where he was going, and prepared to go shopping.

--

The thing is, and this is incredibly embarrassing for Ben to realize, is that the problem of The System being a cagy son of a bitch when it came to actually explaining thing was a very very very very old problem that had already been solved a hundred different ways.

Ben had decided to tackle this particular excursion by himself, for the simple reason that everybody else in his party was busy doing the things that Ben himself had instructed them to do.

That meant Short Bus was out socializing with all the other Earth Animals, networking and gathering support for Ben’s kingdom; which had no land or property or money or wishes- and was also at war with pretty much everybody; but it was totally going to be the best kingdom ever, according to Short Bus, and the man-shark was persuasive. Ghost Ears was with him acting in his official capacity as Ben’s [Royal Vizier].

Vivi was working with a team of [Lawyers] who had been supplied by The Vault to build a solid case to get the Aeon Slug out of trouble with the law and clear his name. After all, if they killed Vivi, they’d kill Ben, and that was bad for business.

Red was likely having a ‘rated M for mature, 18+ only’ adventure with Charles. The last time Ben had seen Charles, the man looked like he could barely walk. Still, they seemed to like each other, so that was good. The M-rated stuff wasn’t what Ben had instructed Red to take care of, he just sort of assumed that's what was going on. No, Red and Charles were out every single day kicking ass and protecting the scattered and rather abused pockets of humanity throughout Solas.

Lariah was more and more visibly pregnant every day, and Ben felt it was for the best that The Girls were staying with Anna for now. Apparently they were complaining about not getting ‘instruction from their bright lord’, AKA Ben. Whenever the ‘Bright Lord’ tried to contemplate the layer of twisty layer of fucking moral inversion going on with The Girls, it threatened to give him a migraine, so he just didn’t think about it at all.

Ben thought about all of this as he rode his [Golden Nimbus] across the city-nation of Solas, headed for a shop that everyone at his work insisted was where you went if you wanted a high-quality interface installed.

Because, yes, that’s right, interfaces were a thing. Ben had partly convinced, partly been convinced, to go get one immediately, and allow The Vault to cover the cost. You did have to buy them, and they weren’t all created equal, after all, and Ben was proving to be an asset. They could have sent him to a back alley wetware chop shop if they wanted, they really could have. But Ben, again, was an asset. So, if you wanted the highest quality, most custom, most adaptable, most durable internal diagnostic system available?

You went to the Eggmen. Oh, Ben was looking forward to meeting the fucking Eggmen, because they were quite possibly the most fucking halariously tragic species Ben had ever heard of.

Long ago, a particular species of bird on a particular planet had mutated it’s way into an utterly miraculous survival mechanism. You see, on their particular planet, egg thievery was the thing to be doing for food. Every species on this particular planet was totally adapted for egg-snatching of one kind or another, and so it was no surprise that pretty much all of the neat evolutionary tricks of the planet revolved around keeping eggs safe.

And what could be safer than eggs that were smart enough to get up and walk around and hide from danger? In fact, as the millions of years passed and evolution did its work, the eggs actually became smarter than the birds they would hatch into! The eggs developed language, and culture and technology, art and philosophy; they became an entire species all of their own. The Space Elves had thrown them into The System, where they adapted to their new home and brought their incredible intellect to bear against the problems of The World.

But, they would hatch, eventually. That was the tragic joke, that they were merely eggs, and that inside of them was a dumbass bird with an incredibly long gestation time. One day the bird would stir and break it’s way out of the eggman, and it would just be a dumb fucking bird. The Eggmen had tried everything to escape their gruesome fate, and everything had failed. It was their destiny, and worse, it was Inevitable.

It was no surprise that humans and eggmen seemed to get along so well. They were a species of tortured, tragic geniuses, kin to mankind in that respect. They were quintessentially mortal, which made them an oddity and a rarity in The World, and indeed in the wider universe.

The Cenobites really were right in the end. Across the endless ocean of time, all those fools immortal would eventually come to their dark garden, begging to feel something, anything new. Angels to some, indeed. Demons to the mortal races, certainly, the mortals who would never have need of their services.

You’d never see an Eggman messing about with a cursed puzzle cube, that’s for sure.

--

“This damn thing,” the eggman muttered, totally oblivious to Ben as he walked into the shop. The eggman looked like a gigantic egg, much to Ben’s total delight. It walked around on noodly, Mr. Potato head-esque legs, and was messing with a rubix cube with noodly, Mr. Potato head-esque arms. Somehow, somehow, the fact that the eggman had a face seemed to work for Ben without triggering the uncanny valley effect. It helped that the owner of the shop, Egg’s Diagnostic, looked a little fat.

He was also, Ben noticed, decked out in expensive, highly enchanted clothing that resembled a compromise between a midevil merchants successful attempts to impress, and space marine armor. The eggman had an impractically large gun holstered at his hip, but didn’t seem inclined to use it at the moment. The shop itself resembled the front office of a Dentist. Ben cleared his throat politely when he realized the shopkeeper wasn’t going to notice him without a little bit of help.

“Oh, dammit,” the egg said, then set the rubix cube on a counter, “Sorry about that, I just got caught up in a good puzzle. Come in, come in, I know a full install when I see one. My name’s Shelly-”

Ben burst out laughing, he just couldn’t help it. Shelly, and this was instantly endearing, chuckled.

“You know I tell people that all day every day, and nobody ever laughs. They’re always walking around on eggshells,” he grinned when he saw Ben was a receptive audience for jokes, “oh I like you. You’re with The Vault, right?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, smiling and appreciating just how fucking weird the situation was, and thriving in it. “Newly conscripted.”

“Oh,” Shelly said, looking Ben up and down, “well good for you, I think. So do you want the good news or the bad news,” he continued, then pulled out a set of over-specialized goggles with about twenty different sets of automated, interchangeable lenses on them. They were very steampunk, and had little arms and grabbers that were cycling through different filters.

“Bad news,” Ben said.

“Funny, eggs always ask for the bad news first too,” Shelly said, “and everyone else just wants to know the good. Bad news, you’re going to be custom from top to bottom. I haven’t personally done many humans, but from what I hear, each and every one of you is tricky. Plus, you’ve got several types of exotic energies clinging to you that I’ve never seen before, so that’s difficult. And, it looks like you have an entirely custom leveling system, which always complicates things.”

“Oh,” Ben said, “I see.”

“Good news though,” Shelly said, then reached over to Ben and pulled something out of thin air, a small book with the words [untitled.ben] written on it in golden letters, “is that The System made the damn thing, and he wrote an owners manual.” Shelly walked to the back of his shop and opened a door, waving for Ben to follow.

The back of Egg’s Diagnostic contained a large, multi ringed machine that looked like the MRI device from Akira, the one they used on Tetsuo. Shelly talked as he walked.

“Now, I know you’ll want to try and read this thing, and I’m more than happy to hand it over to you, but without the right set of [Skills] it’s all gobbly-gook, all system speak.”

“No,” Ben said, “I’m good. I already tried messing with my level system once and I broke it.” Shelly paused at that, then kept moving.

“Not something you hear every day, but Ok. Go ahead and step into the scanner,” Shelly indicated the future MRI machine, “and while you’re doing that, I’ll read over the manual and see if I can get you out the door with some basic functionality. Stars, but I don’t know how you humans are functioning without any kind of interface at all!” Shelly said while Ben got comfortable in the scanner, “most species have something by the time those fucking Space Elves target them.”

“Space Elves, huh?” Ben said, closing his eyes and listening to the whirr of the machine as its many rotating rings lifted up and began scanning him one at a time, multiple times.

“Oh yeah, they’re the Administrators of The System,” Shelly said, “if you humans are in here, its because of them. Usually they like to occupy your atmosphere and gloat for about a hundred years though, they didn’t do that for you guys?”

“Nuh-uh,” Ben said, frowning and adding ‘kill all fucking Space Elves’ to his mental to-do list.

“Oh look at that!” Shelly said, laughing, “you don’t even have an internal To-Do list- oh you’re going to be so happy when you walk out that door,” Shelly said with a smile, “you’ll never forget to kill all the fucking Space Elves, ha, I’ve got that one on my list too. Its a pretty popular one. Now, let’s see here.”

The scan took about a half an hour, and during that time Shelly hmmed and hawwed while flipping through the [untitled.ben] owners manual.

“Quick question,” Shelly said, “Do you prefer Magic or Tech?”

“No preference,” Ben said, still laying down with his eyes closed. He was savoring the calm, quiet moment.

“Ok,” Shelly said, “I’ll just give you a basic package for right now, plus a progress bar for your [Magical] state, and a quick and dirty interface that will let you know what kinds of foods are going to accelerate the recovery of your physical body, and what kinds are going to reverse it.”

“That sounds really fucking useful,” Ben said, sitting up and looking at Shelly, “thank you!”

“Oh yeah, I figured you know? By the time you get your physical body back, I’ll likely have your real interface ready to go. Side note, but if you die, the interface is staying in your corpse and you’ll have to buy a new one. I’d warranty it, but that would just be bad business. Best I can do is give you a discount if you bring the old one back in.”

“Sure, sounds good to me,” Ben said, “so what do I-”

“Well, since you didn’t have a preference for magic or tech, I used a hybrid approach. I’ve got a little pill here,” Shelly said, holding up a small bit of what looked like solid gold, “and it’s going to distribute nanites throughout your body and create a few different magical array sites, just places for the magic to attach itself to.” Shelly walked over and handed Ben the golden pill, “take it when you’re ready and then lay back down on the scanner.”

Ben took the pill and laid down. He thought he might be feeling something like a warmth spreading from his guts throughout his entire body, but the sensation was so faint that he couldn’t say if he was imagining it or not.

“Let me know if you feel a warmth spreading from your stomach so I know if something’s gone terribly wrong,” Shelly said, sounding distracted. Ben’s pulse spiked, and he was about to say something, when Shelly started laughing, “you’re fine, I’m just messing with you. You’ve got all these glands and I just needed to see them fire off. Wow, I would not want to fight a bunch of you in a war, ho-boy that’s quite a cocktail.” Ben started laughing, feeling relieved.

“Well, yes Shelly, I do feel a warmth spreading from my stomach,” he said, laughing and then doing his best to calm back down.

“Ok, everything looks like it set up properly,” Shelly said, “nothing out of the ordinary. I’m going to attach the mana overlay now, so just keep doing what you're doing and don’t move.”

Ben felt something settle down on him like the lightest and most insubstantial weight- like a high quality bed sheet slowly descending on his body, but from every direction. Then, out of the corner of his vision, he saw a blue blinking light.

“You should be seeing a blue blinking light,” Shelly said, “go ahead and focus on it.” Ben focused on it, and a blue status window appeared in front of him.

[Egg’s Diagnostic Interface Technologies]

[Health: Good

[Mana: Good

[Exotic Energy: Good

[Status: Magical

[Wishes to next level: 94]

“It’s working!” Ben yelled.

“Great,” Shelly said, “ok, you’re good to go for now. Play around with it, it’s adaptable to your needs, and come back when you’ve got your physical body back and I’ll be able to install something more substantial.”

Ben got up and shook Shelly’s hand. The eggman had a shockingly firm grip.

“Its been great to meet you Shelly,” Ben said.

“You too, its been fun. Where are you headed after this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Little place called Mice Labs,” Ben said, and then Shelly’s face brightened.

“They’re still around? I thought they got stomped by Precinct Six- That’s great news! I loved those guys, plus, they installed an interface on every single one of their undead. Great people, great customers too.”

“Well,” Ben said, “I don’t know who’s still alive. But they’re all out of jail now, and they’re square with the law.”

“Oh I hope Atomis made it,” Shelly said, “Nick too. They both laughed at my name too you know,” Shelly said as he walked Ben out of the shop, “its like, you name yourself Shelly and you expect people are going to think its funny, right? But I don’t think they even get the joke!”

“You know,” Ben said, “I think it’s because they’re all immortal. I’ve noticed everyone at my work treats me like I’m a terminal cancer patient or something- its like, ‘buddy, I’m only thirty and I’ve got alot of life ahead of me!”

“Oh, you’ve got no idea,” Shelly said, sounding mock-exhausted, “eggmen have it the worst. Everyone looks at us like we could explode at any moment. Trust me, we became the greatest diagnostic experts in the universe so we’d know exactly when we were about to explode. I’m not heading to work in my last year, I’m going to spend that time with friends and family.”

“Man, you guys are all right,” Ben said, giving Shelly a friendly pat on his round, eggy back, “I’ll be seeing you Shelly.”

“You too Ben, nice meeting you,” Shelly said.

Outside the shop, Ben looked around The World with new eyes. His new interface intelligently tagged the things he was looking at and immediately started recording information on them. He would definitely start playing with it, but first. . .

Mice Labs, or whatever was left of it.