( John POV )

In a state of pensive concentration, I sit in stoic stillness, just watching. Below me, part of my little community is gathering around our nascent herd of bok-tar. Only three of the beasts, for now, but even such a limited number adds some impressive bulk to the village. Each stands over three meters in height, six in length, covered in a battered shell of iridescent green armour. Given the impossible strength required just to carry their own bodyweight, the villagers have taken no chances, leashing each to multiple buried, near-immovable logs, set meters down into the tough riverside clay. The makeshift fibre ropes are thicker than my arm.

From a top-down view, it’s hard not to compare the three prismatic hillocks to the clump of primitive dwellings that they orbit. The dangers of this fantasy world are different to those posed by real history, I reflect, but are no less existential. If any one of those bok-tar were to object to its new life of drug-hazed servitude, a single rampage could destroy everything the village has accomplished. Well, I catch myself, everything Jade and I have accomplished. It’s only a game.

“John? Are you listening to a word I say?!”

“Uh… no, I, um, sort of tuned out for a bit. Just thinking about… Nevermind. Sorry. It’s been a long day, another deadline got pulled forward.”

Jade sighs, as if considering rolling her eyes and then dismissing the notion.

“Another long day? At this point, John, they’re just normal days for you. I’ve done my best to make sure you eat enough, but you’re still not getting enough sleep. This isn’t healthy. And that’s not just my opinion, it’s the opinion of the dedicated medical subroutines at the local clinic.”

I look away and shrug acceptance. That Jade’s worried about my work schedule isn’t news. This conversation has become a routine, and that worries her, too. But the only way around it is to start declining contracts, and I spent too long without any contracts whatsoever to be that arrogant. If they’re willing to pay my prices, I’ll do the work.

You could raise your prices, a little voice in my head points out. I will, I tell myself, when I’ve done enough hard graft to earn a reputation.

And you don’t have one now? You’ve got more work than you can handle. And most of them are repeat customers, or referrals, or industry contacts. You’re just stuck in a rut, and you’re afraid of past failures.

It’s been one of those weeks. I seem to lose every argument, even the ones I have with myself. I go back to watching the bok-tar, and the little goblins surrounding them.

After a few minutes, Jade sighs again, accepting that I’m not about to renounce ambition and become a monk. We drift gently downwards, until our boots find the hardened red earth, standing invisible outside the village. The conversation moves on.

“Anyway. As you can see, we’ve had some success with the beetles, but only some. They’re docile, but we haven’t been able to tame them. It could just be that we’ve been unlucky, but I’m starting to wonder if we’re missing the relevant tech.”

“Ah, blast. What do we need?”

“I assume agriculture, but I can’t check. The game only recognizes human inputs for tech.”

She crosses her arms and flicks at a pebble with a disdainful toe, clad in canvas and plastic. The pebble stays obstinately static, unmoved by her whitelist permissions. Jade’s eyes narrow at it.

I let out a quick bark of laughter, the first I’ve had in days, but stifle it.

“Well, I have to rely on you, so it seems fair that you have to occasionally lean on me! And hey, at least it’ll cut down on the number of bot accounts.

But, ah, yeah, what did you want me to check? Getting the agriculture tech?”

The pod reads my intentions, and before the game has even placed the words in my mouth a pane sidles out from the edge of my vision. Jade leans in, reading over my shoulder, although she could just as easily access my feed directly.

[Unavailable] Primitive Agriculture

Minimum requirements: 3/6

Can lower requirements by 1 for the price of 500 points

I erupt in a spluttering cough at the point cost of jumping up the tech tree. It’s a razor-sharp contrast to the twenty-odd points we’ve jealously hoarded.

“Uh. That’s not happening. If it’s agriculture we need, we’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Let’s assume it’s not. What else do we have available?”

“Hmm.We’re basically just looking for the ability to work with animals so... Animal husbandry?”

My guess is solid, the words triggering another menu box.

[New!] Primitive Animal Husbandry

Minimum requirements: 4/4

Cost: 10 points.

“But… What? Domestication’s a result of agriculture, right?”

I shrug. What do I know, I’m just a lowly human.

“That’s rubbish! You don’t need animals to start growing cereals!”

“Well, apparently the devs disagree. Feel free to write a long rant about it on the forums, but I’m heading to bed.”

A yawn cements my position, letting me skirt another long diatribe from Jade on the archeological inaccuracies of the game design. Not that it’s not interesting, it’s just not what I need right now.

“Hmph. I suppose I could, but that would give away that they’re different techs. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and other people won’t have your creative ignorance.”

I bite back a caustic response, and return to my tech purchase. A moment later, we’re down to a mere twelve points, but I’m feeling pretty good about the investment. This is real advancement, not just holding ground against the forces of entropy! And, frankly, Jade’s right: the bizarrely obscure nature of the tech tree could buy us a decent lead.

“It’s done! What did we get with that?”

“Let me check, let me check… Ah! There’s a new tab for animal taming and domesticating.”

Tameable and Domesticated Species

Tameable Species: 0

Domesticated Species: 0

EMPTY EMPTY

“Erm… OK. So, we don’t know how to tame anything yet.”

“Nope. But at least we know it’s possible!”

I rub my eyes, wishing they’d focus more easily. Technically, of course, all this information is being beamed straight into my visual cortex, and simulating tired eyes is entirely optional. I could switch it off, and if I were younger and more foolish, I would, rather than take it as the warning it is. I grin; at myself and my pretense of growing wiser as much as our first steps on the path to civilisation.

Time to finish up, I admonish myself, but then catch an errant thought.

“What was that species of... birds? Yeah, birds, the ones you were interested in? The tiny fluttering ones that build those whopping great nests on the other side of the river? With a queen bird, like bees?”

“They’re ‘gylari’, according to the Index. Why, you’re not thinking of domesticating them?”

“Yeah, why not? We’ve paid for the tech, now we need to work with what we’ve got! Let’s get the show on the road! Every day counts!”

“I’m… not sure that’s a good idea. I know you want stuff to happen, but you’ve pushed this village a long way, very quickly. People don’t like change, John. I mean, they still haven’t even adjusted to the goblins yet. Tensions are high.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. After this, we’ll leave them to stew for a while, ease off the throttle. But, come on, we have to keep up with everyone else.”

( Gordune POV )

I twitch abruptly from my slumber as loud shouting barges through my hut’s portal. Not panicked, but incessant. I lie still, waiting, checking whether or not it’s anything of sufficient urgency to stir my aching bones over. Alas, whatever foolishness they’ve whipped up refuses to resolve itself, and, grumbling, I climb from my nest. Admittedly, although no sunlight glimmers through through the doorway, I’m feeling fairly well rested, but the indignity of such an awakening is offensive in and of itself!

Shouldering my way out of my hut, I grind the gum from my eyes before glaring into the silvered darkness. As always, I’m greeted with chaos, but this lacks the cheerful bustle of a normal morning. Instead, beneath a strong midnight moon, my descendants are scampering in frantic efficiency, joined by a few, stumbling humans. Others from around the village are coming to the same conclusions I have, blundering from their huts with sleep-slurred complaints and generally adding to the general pandaemonium. I spot that elf - Duloni? Dartori? Dutori? - scowling at the scene. He, like myself, seems more perturbed by the disruption of his sleep than by the content of the shouting.

The difference is, I’ve encountered this scene before. His indifference is just the inherent arrogance of all elves. How any of them manage to survive at all continues to amaze me.

Shaking my head, I wander through the chaos, waiting for a goblin to pass within easy grabbing distance. A Grandson of mine, from my third wife, possibly.

“Where is he?”

He points wordlessly towards the edge of the village.

Ah, the bok-tar. I should have know. Sighing, I push him onwards in his task, and continue. Wincing, I wish I’d brought my walking stick, my knees always being stiff after a nap. Blast, I should have got that anklebiter to fetch it for me. Bah, nevermind. Best just to reach the source of the confusion and sit down.

After a few minutes of dignified midnight wandering, I collar the cause of all this ruckus, crouching in the gloom, tossing orders and demands at whomever is closest to him.

“Kali! Could this not have waited until morning, you wretched young night-breaker?! I daresay half the orders you’re giving out are being entrusted to humans, and they can’t even see at a time like this!”

Kali ignores my admonishments, as he always does in such situations. Instead, his crooked teeth gleam in the darkness, framed by one of his more crazed grins.

“Grandfather! I can see it! Oh yes, Kali knows what to do! It’s so clear, I need to catch it! Now, like a moonbeam, not when it’s evaporated in the sun!”

Catching moonbeams, eh? Knowing Kali, I suppose it’s possible. And I suppose it’s too late to stop him now - his excited decrees have diminished in volume and frequency in any case. Besides, when Kali gets into this mood, his mind is at its sharpest and most fragile, like splintered flint.

Best simply to let him get on with it, task a few whippersnappers with his protection, and fashion a few earplugs before returning to bed.

“Alright, I suppose you’d better get on with your moonbeam catching. Whatever madness you’re doing, no doubt it’ll come in useful somehow. It always does, or I’d clip you round the ear more often, oh yes I would! Bah, nevermind. I’ll get something nourishing boiling for when you’re done. Come and see me, eh? And shout more quietly!”

I’ve already lost Kali’s attention, not being directly relevant to the current project. He’s already returned to his commands, and fiddling with materials as they come in, and gazing with glazed eyes into machinations only he can see. Off to one side, his sister sits, watching patiently, waiting for when he inevitably collapses from overexertion and strain.

Turning away, I make my way towards Madok’s hut, to explain the interruptions. I fear for Kali, when I’m gone. The strangest anklebiter, he was, made stranger by ideas even an elder like myself cannot contemplate. I let out another sigh, the deepest of the night so far.

I truly wonder how Kali won Jormund’s friendship. I wonder how Jormund won Kali’s.

I wonder where Jormund is now.