Running through the Walled City was always a satisfying experience. It was quite unlike any city of the Old, a beautiful mixture of modern technology and primitive sensibilities. I could turn a corner and run and find a Brutalist high-rise, a concrete and militaristic six-story apartment complex, or I could pass a bend and find the quaintest of stone shacks, just simple one-and-a-half structures meant to hold a family and naught more, as though it was ripped straight from the 12th century. I really wish I could share that with you all, and especially in more detail, but my focus is torn.

While I quite enjoy running through the city, if only for the view, it isn’t quite so fun to be chased. The tenants of the City of Man do not take kindly to troublemakers, and by default, I qualify. I could sit on a bench and mind my own business and they’d still probably start trying to lock me up, but to be absolutely fair, I probably deserved it. I’m not a real criminal, but I’m also not useful, and the City of Man only has useful people. The General will tolerate lay-abouts no more than deserters, and while a deserter would no doubt be executed on sight, I’m hardly treated any differently.

My cardio had improved significantly over the course of the six months I’ve been in the city, so at least that was a silver lining. As the sole survivor of my Pod, they had been quite perplexed at how such a useless girl had made it on her own for so long, and then exceptionally interested at the fact I could not be Named, in the conventional sense. Really, it was amazing that so many intelligent people in one place couldn’t figure out what little old me intuited. I’m pretty sure you would think they never read. Sure, it was out of fashion, but anyone would be absolutely hosed if they tried to interpret an entirely new world with a realistic and grounded perspective.

My passion had been old books, the infinite archive of literature that spanned centuries. The advent of the Web had enshrined these early renditions so thoroughly that even modern readers could access them, all those years later. In the New World, I was far more passionate about finding some free time and places without pointy spears and angry faces, but that was hardly by choice. If it were up to me, I’d still be back home, digging for the next buried gem.

The goblins were by far the most impressive of my pursuers. Even as I tore through Third Street towards the nearest abyss ramp, little green figures filed into the alley. They were unshakeable and unflappable, and the only reason I wasn’t dead, in jail, or “reformed” was that the creatures didn’t actually feel like catching me. They put on a good show, but frankly, they probably just enjoyed the practice. It was like a cat toying with its prey, but perhaps a bit more practical- anything else caught by a Goblin would be promptly torn to shreds. I hadn’t been there to witness ‘Pivot Day’, so affectionately named, but witnessing tiny examples of their cruelty was more than enough to set me on edge. For example, it was common knowledge in the city as to why birds no longer bothered to fly overhead. The animals of the New World could communicate without exception, a higher sort of beast, and perhaps one of the goblins’ unfortunate meals had actually escaped. No doubt, they were a hero to their kind, heralded in endless song (miles and miles away from our quaint city).

My running, the goblins’ clattering, and the gentle echoes of life in the city’s square were about the only sounds. The little green people moved slowly forward, taunting me to try and play ‘Red Rover’. Instead, I dipped into an alley. Of course, more goblins were everywhere, looking down at me from far-above rooftops and blocking the path forward. I paused to wave, smiling, and stopped for a moment. I wasn’t trying to use the alley to escape, not at all. The goblins encroached on me from the alley, and I could hear the little pitters and patters of their rooftop kin crawling down from above. It was quite eerie, having so many eyes on you. They had no doubt practiced being creepy as fuck to a T- apparently, they were all quaint little traders and farmers before Pivot Day, even if they were the defacto boogie-men now. The General had a flare for the dramatic, and no doubt he had instructed them to get creepier.

I just stood there, waiting. Finally, I could hear the army in the main road’s steps. I turned around quickly, bracing myself and entering a sprint. I blasted from that corner, ignoring the nasty ‘thunk’ of the rooftop goblins dropping down on the spot I had been hiding in moments before, and barreled through the main group. They were much less prepared, less wary. I still had to free my leg from one’s grasp, their little claws digging nasty red marks into my calf, but it was all in all the safest way to get free. Ignoring the wet feeling of my leg, I completed my mad dash and turned down the ramp. It was scarily steep, and it headed into the deep pit that was the abyss, but it made me feel a bit more at home already. It was much easier to hide in the tunnels than it was in the city above, after all, so I had spent quite a lot of time down there.

The goblins applauded after me, as though one hadn’t probably left permanent scars on my leg just a moment before, and they laughed and hollered as I ran. They must have enjoyed this escape, and judging by how fascinated they were, it wouldn’t work again. One more trick down the drain, fuck. The ramp was thankfully unoccupied, even absent of the usual foot-traffic that traveled between the ‘midway point’. Whether they were carrying goods to the Fort or fancy new products back to the rest of the city, there were usually some people at work. The Trader had become quite popular since ‘business’ and ‘merchanting’ were essentially nonexistent in the New World. I’ve met at least four ‘The Trader’s since I started my commute. Really, times like those, I wish I could use names. “Hey, Trader and Trader!” didn’t ingratiate yourself to either, and any attempt I make to change it to something more recognizable (even Trader 1 or Trader 2) ended in excruciating pain.

My favorite people to talk to are the ones who you couldn’t mistake. Sure, half of them had left the city before I even arrived, but most of the ones who were here were pretty cool, even if they had serious issues. Most was the operative word, though, and as the ramp bottomed out and I jogged into the nearest tunnel, I was stopped in my tracks by a specific unique individual who I most certainly didn’t want to see.

The man smiled, holding his arms wide. The inviting gesture did basically nothing to hide his menace. A scar ran down his left cheek and up to his eye, a nasty reminder of past fights. His outfit screamed ‘bad dude’, with an excessive, patchwork leather greatcoat (for ‘protection’), a regal and wooly shirt that did nothing to hide his gangling form, and carefully fitted pants made of some creatures’ tan and blotchy hide, and while they looked generally normal (if a bit old-fashioned), I can’t help but think they’re the scariest part, since I know where he got that material from. Since the pants had been cured, it made it look more like real leather, which frankly made it worse. All around his body were scabbards, loading him down with a truly excessive amount of weaponry. It was a bad habit, for sure, but he apparently got used to it. Of course, last but not least, the man’s hook. It was hard to look warm and sociable when you were waving about a huge metal hook. “Say my name,” he said, still beaming.

“The General”, I reply, gently sidling back towards the ramp.

“You know what I mean,” he said, letting his eyes do all the talking. They were sharp, not at all the eyes of someone who was out to make friends.

“And you know that I can’t,” I growl, hoping to keep him talking. If I got a head-start, there was at least a chance I could get away.

“Relax, there,” He said, letting his arms hang at his side. He looked strangely offended, smile turning into a tight frown. “Do you really think you could get away?” He asked.

I stopped doing pretty much everything, including breathing. I spluttered for a second, and the General’s smile returned. Really, my odds of getting away were nil to zilch, and if I did, the manhunt might start in earnest- so it’d probably be better to just hear him out. “What do you want?”

He strode forwards a few times, covering practically the entire distance in just a few steps. The incongruity of it set my head to spinning. Magic was hell for logic-oriented thinkers, and even as abstract as I could get, it still took my brain for a ride every so often. You wouldn’t believe how good the cityfolk were at bending the rules even if I really explained it all. If they were just a little better at playing within them, we’d be a lot further along than we are now, but I could still appreciate the crazy shit the Imposter and her cronies could come up with.

“Well, I don’t think we ever finished our chat,” he said, as matter-of-fact as he could muster. I scoffed at that. “If you want to turn me into a test subject, at least be honest.” I retorted, turning my head to the side. He looked appreciably stricken (my sass meters must have been off the charts), and for a moment, I could see the boy underneath the façade. For all of his projection and power, he was still just some guy my age. It went away as fast as it came, though, and the chuckle that followed was uncomfortable.

“I think we could arrange a meeting with Merrilyn,” he said, emphasizing the ‘arrange’, “but I just need to get you to talk with me for a bit longer. To answer my questions, or at least some of the more important ones.” I shuddered, thinking back to the last ‘chat’, questions that couldn’t be answered, but ones that he insisted on. What was her past? Where did the rest of her Pod go? Why did I start trembling and get skittish whenever anyone talked about it? Really, if anyone was to blame for me going AWOL, it was those idiots for not taking the hint.

“Unless you get some better questions, the only answer you’re getting out of me is where you should go shove-“ I said angrily, but before I could even get to the ‘insulting banter’ part, the General’s features twisted with some genuine fury, and my voice caught in my throat. “I have been quite patient enough with you. I didn’t leave an entire race of people-eating lizards alone for as long as your stupid ass, and they were actually intimidating,” he said, snarling out the last few words. Well, when he put it like that, I guess it seemed a bit more forgiving than I had thought. I held my hands high above my head, wearing my best ‘I’m-so-shocked’ face, and the General stopped angrily stomping forward and hover-handing his blades. You should probably know that the General has had some “anger issues” ever since he had a fight or two with his little girlfriend. On most people, relationship drama could look endearing or at least pitiable, but since this guy in particular could skewer half of the damn city before breaking a sweat, it didn’t help him make any friends. Not that he needed friends, of course. He had daggers for that.

“Alright, alright, I’ll… try to answer your questions, at least.” I said. “Why do you need to know all of this other stuff, though?” The General’s rage disappeared like sand in the wind. One moment, it was all I could see, and the next, it had been swept away into the blue sky. The little smile he gave me was a bit uncomfortable, though. The anger had felt far more genuine. “We wanted to understand more about your situation before attempting to replicate the conditions you were in, that’s all,” he said. I stared at him blankly. I had assumed it was at least to check if I had murdered everybody- for the record, I didn’t, or at least as far as you’re concerned I didn’t- but they were really just trying to get a little more info? “That’s stupid,” I said, dumbfounded.

He shrugged. “Say my name,” he retorted, monotone. “I can’t- oh.”, I stuttered out. They wanted to know as much as possible to prevent unfortunate accidents from occurring. Sure, not being able to say names sucked, but what if they lost control of their lungs, or had a leg taken, or were forced to walk in ‘figure-8’s whenever humanly possible. It kind of made sense, especially when she had enumerated how risky it could be to follow in her footsteps. Whoops.

“If that’s all, I could have just explained more about the process,” I said. Honestly, in retrospect, I should have been a little more reluctant to just run off, but the pain and fear had felt a lot fresher at the time.

“Yeah. You could have. Now cough up the tragic backstory, please,” the General replied, a genuine smile crossing his face. “You’ve got me curious.”

“If you just want to know more about magic, I can just-“ I said, but he cut me off. “You’re not getting away with six months of obstructing Humankind’s progress and denying me a good story,” he said. I huffed, crossing my arms. “This has less to do with the wellbeing of the city and a lot more to do with payback.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yup. Cough it up,” he said. I ran through excuses in my mind, hoping to find a way to delay, at the least. “It’s a long story,” I said, “shouldn’t we find somewhere to relax?”

The General pointed his hands in either direction. Well, his hand and his menacing hook in either direction. Two benches set parallel to each-other, taunting me. I hadn’t even seen them coming in, how had they gotten there? On a hunch, I looked up at the tunnel roof- to see no less than four goblins just hanging about. One of them let go of one of the ceiling-spikes he was hanging on to give me a thumbs-up, while the others pouted and tried to hide the bags of little baubles they had on-hand, including and not limited to: snacks, drinks, a bucket and curtain that looked uncomfortably similar to a ‘portable bathroom’ set, and much more. The General came prepared. He laughed, waving up at the goblins, and the ‘thumbs-up’ goblin saluted. He walked off to sit on a bench, pointing to the one opposite. I groaned, taking a seat.

“Well,” I said, “What should I talk about first?” I asked. He mulled it over, holding the crook of his hook to his chin as though deep in thought. “Let’s start with the Pod,” he said. I nearly choked. “Pretend I never asked. Let’s start with life since the Pod. Work our way back,” I said, practically begging. He looked perplexed. “What’s so interesting about your truancy?” He asked. I shrugged. “Do you even know my title?” I asked.

“You can’t tell us,” he said, probing. “It’s not a trick question,” I laughed out, “You’re the General.” He looked vaguely shocked. “That’s a name, isn’t it?” He said, incredulous. I shook my head. “You guys haven’t figured it out yet? Good lord, if anyone had a reason to guess their title, it was you.” I replied. He pondered over that for a moment. “I thought I was just being dramatic, honestly. Can you call me Gen, then? Or another ‘Title’ that fits? ‘The Warrior’, perhaps?” I shook my head. “For some people, it seems to be a bit more… fluid, but you’re very much The General. If I try to call you the Ty-“ before I even finished the sentence, I doubled over, twitching. It was excruciating, pain like none you’ve ever felt. Never break your vows, kids.

“I’ll forgive you for trying to call me that,” the General growled, but the little storm blew over and his curiosity pulled him back into a chipper mood. That, or he simply wasn’t as offended as I thought. “but that raises a pretty big question about our race as a whole. Why do we have these “Titles”? Names have always been powerful,” he mumbled, thinking over everything he had learned about Old World mysticism. “This seems pretty new. Are they like ‘job titles’, or are they descriptive? Are all titles in that format?” He asked, hardly waiting for me to pull my sorry ass off the floor.

“I have no idea,” I said, “but they’re something other than a Name, or even a ‘nick-name’. I can hardly think about names, let alone speak them, but these titles have no such issue.” He held up a hand. “If you can’t think about nicknames, what about ‘Big Greg’?” He asked, and I shuddered.

“You just saw what happens to me,” I said. He put on an unnerving pair of puppy-dog eyes that were ill-suited to his typical demeanor, telling me to “just try it. Greg’s not with us anymore. It’s important.” I sighed. “Big Greg,” I said, tensing with every syllable. Nothing happened. “This raises quite a few questions about how universal your… vow? The vow was.” He said, bobbing his head sagely.

“How can it tell that you aren’t talking about Gregory, or that he’s dead?” He asked. I shrugged, as surprised as he was. “It’s magic, man. I don’t have to explain shit.” That seemed to actually be a pretty convincing argument, and he leaned back in his bench, placated.

“That's why my time after the Pod is interesting,” I said, “but we haven't even got to the fun part yet.” He looked excited at the prospect of more, eager to unveil all the secrets magic holds. “Does it have to do with your title?” He asked. “Bingo,” I said. “and if I explain a bit about my present and maybe my time in the Old World, you’ll probably understand ‘the Pod’ scenario better,” I said. It was true enough, and he bought it. “I’ll bite,” he said. “What is it?”

“I used to be ‘The Library’, and to some extent, I must still be. It doesn’t hurt to say,” I said. He nodded vigorously. “So, there can be more than one Title,” he interrupted, and I hushed him gently. He took it surprisingly well for de-facto leader of the New World.

“In many ways, I sacrificed ‘The Library’ for my new title. I couldn’t even pick out characters in books anymore, not that we have any to read.” I continued, emphasizing that last bit. The bastards could at least set up a Printing Press, if not the Net. “Now? I’m just the Conduit.”

The General’s hook shot up into the air, like a schoolchild hoping to be called on. “What?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “The Library I get, but the Conduit? What does that even mean?” He asked, confused.

I smiled. “Good fucking question. I wasn’t sure for a good while, but whenever important things happen, I… open. Like that day in our Pod, and just today.” The General sat straight up, suddenly guarded. “What comes through?” He asked. I laughed. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. It’s not mana, or monsters, or anything that would explain all those dead people. Well, not directly, at least.”

“What comes through?” he asked, more intently. “Fine, fine. I can feel people watching me,” I said. He relaxed, just a bit. “That could be someone watching you magically? We might want to get that checked. First stalker of the New World,” he said, pondering. I shook my head. “It’s not just watching. They're all around me, looking and seeing and taking it all in. Sometimes, I can even hear them.” He looked at me like I was crazy, which hurt. “Why a ‘Conduit’, then?” He asked, disbelief plain on his face. The jerk could at least try to pretend I wasn’t off my rocker. I got enough funny looks in the Old World.

“When it happens and I let them through, I can let them in, listen to them,” I said. “I think different. People act different. The world shifts around me, like I'm filling it up,” I point at my forehead, emphasizing. “and I think they’re getting something out of it. This is some reality-bending shit, and I’m connected to somewhere.” He nodded gently, mulling through my words. He sure was skeptical for a guy with magical Steroids, wasn’t he? You believe me, don’t you? Although, if you aren’t real, it’d be kind of dumb to ask. How can I tell the differences between the voices I conjure and voices from the beyond? What if I really was having a break, a relapse? It wasn’t like the New World had medicine, after all. Sure, they’d started on the real basic stuff, but those were decades off. What if I really had imagined it all? Was I talking to the General at all? Why would he come down to meet me? Was there a New World? It was all so fantastical, like something I had imagined in a fever-dream.

It took me a moment to realize that the warm feeling on my forehead was the General’s hand. I felt a bit embarrassed, pushing it away. “What are you doing, again?” I asked. “You weren’t responding,” he said. He backed off, and I realized I had tipped over. Thankfully, I had fallen back onto the bench and not off onto the rough floor of the tunnel. “I think I just had a panic attack,” I said, coughing a bit.

“You were out for a minute there,” he said. “You never got to ‘where’ you’re connected to.” I shuddered. “You believe me?” I asked, trembling. I had been told I was insane, or just plain lying, for far less. The General just nodded. He actually believed me. The tears welled in my eyes, and as much as I wanted to fight them off, I just couldn’t. There was a person on this New World who might look at me like a normal human being, or at least as something other than a lab-rat. Sure, it was the leader-slash-dictator of the not-so-free world, but that was fine. The people out there who have been ignored and left in the dirt know exactly how I feel, I’m sure. I stumbled from the bench, hugging the stupid boy. He struggled for a moment, awkward overtaking stoic or majestic, and he just settled on stroking my back. With his hook. I almost felt bad for the Adventurer having to deal with him.

“I leave you alone for a few minutes and you elope with some skank?” An angry voice called from the tunnel mouth. Speak of the Devil, the General nearly flung me from his embrace, settling on ‘letting me down to the floor gently’. I had nearly finished my little dramatic moment, but I decided that it was far less likely that I got skewered if I was too busy crying to look like a fair target. “You know it’s not like that,” the General said, walking towards the voice. The Adventure was cast under the light, and she stood proud in its rays. Her posture was that of a furious wife, legs shoulder-width apart and arms crossed so tightly that it could probably crush bone if you even tried to pull them apart.

She huffed. “I bet you don’t even know her name,” she said, and the steel in her voice made me shudder. Hopefully the General is tactful enough to- the guy laughed. The General laughed at her, and nodded. “I have no idea what her name is, that’s the problem,” he said, like it was the funniest joke in the world. The Adventurer was pissed, and she swept her head between the two of us. In the dim light, she couldn’t make out the harlot (me) who stole her man, and she was puzzled. “What’s so funny, huh?” She asked. To my surprise, she actually seemed less pissed. I probably would have just murdered the guy, myself.

“It’s that girl,” he said, pointing at me. “She’s the Conduit, and that’s about all we can call her,” he said. Realization dawned on her face, and she relaxed- just a bit. “Why was she all over you like that?” She asked, now more curious than jealous. She strode forward, entering the dim light of the tunnel. I could make out her features better. She was a beautiful girl, on the verge of true womanhood. She was perfectly lean, and though her back was actually just a bit misshapen, no one would notice or care. They’d probably be too busy looking at her butt or perfectly toned legs to take note of the bump on her lumbar, honestly. Relaxed, she looked much younger, dropping even the slightest bit of wifeliness. Between her natural assets and her fitness, I bet she would have been the hot item back home. It was rare for anyone to think about romance in the New World, though, especially since all sorts of social dynamics were still out of whack.

He shrugged. “I believe she really has a link to somewhere, and I told her so. She, uh, broke down.” I nodded as best I could. At some point, my exaggerated hysterics had become all too real again, and I struggled to reign it back in. “A link to where? I’m going to need catching up,” the beautiful girl asked, suddenly just as intrigued as the General had been. Ready for an Adventure. Rumor said she had been raring for one for ages, since the General had been sweeping any and all disasters under the rug with astonishing efficiency.

“I…” I choked out, “I think it goes to back home.” The two of them stood there, dumbfounded. I don’t think they had expected that in their wildest dreams. A connection to Earth, the real one, the place they had all been stolen from. The implications were insane, and I felt insane for even implying it.

Are you out there?