Rather than do an official civics lesson on his recovered computer, Stan relaxed in bed and played his game again. The title screen had cobwebs on it. When he signed in, a menu said, "It's been a while! Due to your contact with one of the locals, your character left off in the world of Norwood. Would you like to return to your usual setting?"

He had no idea if Davis was around to take him back to the Endless Isles, and he wasn't crazy about the raccoon thing. "Yes."

The game restarted with the cheerful subdued music of the Isles. He was back in human form just offshore of Tourney Isle, on his raft. The treasure chest that he'd taken to the other world was gone. His inventory contained the junky potions he'd crafted, and his skill list said "Club, Thrown Weapon, Alchemy". So he'd traded items for experience.

He stepped ashore to look for Davis. The bombardment started right away. Stan zigzagged inland and took a major wound from flying chunks of rock. Only unrealistic physics kept the beach from becoming a moonscape of craters. He barely made it to safety on the grass.

Davis' little castle stood quiet, even when Stan knocked. No cheerful rabbit-man to greet him. Stan sighed; the AI had his own life and didn't exist just to entertain passing humans. He couldn't even leave a note... No, wait. He had a blank scroll, quill and ink in his spare chest. Was it worth burning through his scanty item supply just to talk with Davis? Not today; Stan needed to get back to business. He hurried back to his raft, then sailed to Central Island again to look for things to do.

In the Maker Workshop, he found some smiths to buy his supply of charcoal and rust from a past adventure. They even had a lead on a low-level cavern he could visit on a nearby island.

Stan headed out there on his own and did some monster-slaying, but his heart wasn't in it. The actual adventuring was less interesting to him than the trading. He wondered why.

He was about to sign off for the evening when he got an e-mail. It came from "thousandtales-quests-level1". "Quest: Show the Flow. Explain irrigation technology to a class via the Thousand Tales interface. Reward: 10 silver." There were several possible times listed. What, a request for him to lecture people? He wasn't sure that was even legal. He didn't have a teaching certificate or permission from Hal or anything. Nor could he take time off from his work without asking, or travel without permission, or get paid in actual money that he was free to swap for anything at all. Dollars still changed hands in the Community, just furtively because it wasn't the residents' place to make their own buying decisions in the wider world. Besides, there were positive-reinforcement rewards for relying on scrip.

Stan replied that he'd do it Friday over lunch.

#

Back in the game the next day, he found an alchemy station and used his limited alchemy experience to craft some potions. They came out wrong, much as he'd done in Norwood: slight magic restoration but they made you flammable. More near-useless junk. Unless... Stan grinned, and applied to join another adventuring group that he'd carefully picked for being slightly in over its head.

Based on his evaluation of the adventurers -- he'd picked up the Appraise skill and begun getting hints at their skills and powers -- and their choice of target, he was not at all surprised when they found themselves in the third level of the Hall of Splendor, under assault by slow-moving brass statues, and starting to panic.

"Stan, do something!" shouted the party's bard. Marble tiles cracked under the blow of a man-sized mace.

"I'm just the hireling," Stan said. He kept hopping back and away from the murderous statues, carrying a heavy pack loaded with trinkets. "If you want me to fight, I get a full share of the loot."

The wizard said, "Fine. Attack them already!"

Stan smiled. "No, you attack them. Use your fire spells in a moment."

"They're not vulnerable to fire."

Stan whipped out a pair of bottles and chucked them at the enemies. Their brassy hides shined red. "Now they are!"

The wizard let loose with a flamethrower blast. Firelight gleamed and metal melted.

"I can do that three more times," Stan said. "Get ready."

In a few rounds they'd trashed most of the statues, leaving the party's knight and bard to finish off the rest. "Worth it," the knight said. "Where'd you learn to make those?"

"It was an alchemy failure when I visited a place called Norwood."

"With the same character? I thought you couldn't jump between settings like that. Or are you an uploader?"

"Me? No. I met an AI who pulled me along."

The party scavenged the wrecked hall of statues, with Stan picking out seemingly useless scraps to put in his pack. The bard said, "If you've got friends among the locals, you could exploit that."

Stan blinked. There really were some possibilities here.

#

After the dungeon crawl, Stan logged out to the title screen, where the logo was made from scraps. "Can I make another character?" he said.

A menu said, "Sure! Do you want to replace your existing character and start over, or make an 'alternate'?"

"Alternate."

"Which setting?" A long list appeared, showing the few main worlds within Thousand Tales and a list of the smaller worlds that were open to the public. There seemed to be an ongoing popularity contest.

"Norwood. I don't see it though...?"

"'The Rebels of Norwood' is only open by invitation."

Then Stan had kind of blown his chance at playing there by suddenly dropping out of the local story. He'd been hoping to drop by with a new character and find a way to transport goods across worlds that way. Then again, he'd be relying on Davis or somebody to make that work. In fact, any combination of characters he could make would still need a world-hopper to transport items. He wasn't going to be able to run a cross-world trading business alone.

"Cancel," he said, and went back to playing as his islander character for a little longer.

#

On the day of the lecture "quest" he used his lunch break for teaching. He set up his computer in his room and began to talk about his work on the farm. The screen showed him a classroom with around fifty people! Some of them were elves or animals, but the seats were all filled. Who knew there this many people who cared what he did?

A dark-feathered griffin raised its talons. "This is similar to what they're doing in Central America, isn't it?" Davis was in the audience too.

"They?" said Stan.

"Our people. There's a big farming project going on there and we're going to have robots and stuff helping people."

He'd heard a little about the game's players doing charity work, but the thought that the things he was explaining might have any relevance outside his little home, was a little overwhelming. "Well. Guess I'd better get the details right."

Partway through his talk, there was a knock on the door. Stan froze, but remembered he had permission to play this game, to own this computer. He opened it and found Suzie there.

"Hi. I heard you were giving a class? I'd like to hear it too."

"Uh... Sure. Pull up a chair."

A little flustered, Stan went on explaining how irrigation systems kept the fields going with minimal water, and about some of the politics he'd run into about how parts and water itself got allocated to different places, and his experiences with repairing stuff. "Sorry; I don't know much of the theory behind this."

"We can get that from a textbook," said some kind of robot deer. "Just to make sure: there's nothing that generates water from nothing, right?"

A chill passed through Stan. Here was another AI who barely knew what reality was. "No, although there are some machines that absorb it from the air." He rattled off some details.

At last the lunch hour ended, but the students kept asking questions. He looked anxiously over one shoulder as though Hal would come and drag him back to the fields. "Are you all AIs?"

Various people chimed in. Most were real people, in four countries. "So I really have crossed between worlds," he muttered.

"Huh?" said the griffin.

"I'm a trader in your game, but I can't move between the different realms with one character or swap items between alternates. It looked profitable when I visited another area with Davis there."

One of the human players said, "A regular business, huh? What items do you stock?"

"Low-level crafting things, moving into potions."

The griffin said, "Ooh, a mysterious wandering potion-dealer! I met a Mexican gunslinger who said his old job was something like that."

"Sounds fun," Davis the bunny said. "If you want to try that, I and the other natives can arrange to pull you or your items between worlds every so often."

Stan grinned. "A trading guild! I like it. I need to get going for now, but thank you all for coming. You can mail me with more questions."

The griffin started a round of applause. "Hey, everybody, give him your junk items too!" A treasure chest appeared with his payment of silver in it, and the students stuffed it full with shells and fruit and used goblin loincloths and blank scrolls.

"Thanks, I think! See you." Stan picked up the chest to have the game register that he was carrying it, then signed out.

The game faded out. Suzie was still sitting on his chair. She said, "That was weird. Have you done that before?"

"No, but I liked it."

"What are you trying to do, anyhow? I mean, are you one of those nerds who just wants to rack up as many imaginary coins as possible instead of having a life?"

Stan looked into the dark screen and saw his reflection. "It's... a different experience than living here, and having the Baron set our goals. In there I can do whatever I want and I'm actually being useful. Maybe somebody in that class will grow more food after hearing that, or the AIs will start to have a clue what the real world is like."

The girl drummed her fingers on the chair. "You ought to get good-citizen credit for doing that. The teaching, not the rest of the game. Maybe you should learn more about the rest of our tech and then teach about that too."

"Good idea. As for buying and selling the fantasy junk, it's fun even if it doesn't really help anybody. I outwit the rule system, I find opportunities, I help people based on what they think is important. It's like being the one who designs and builds the game consoles; that's not a waste of effort unless all art and toys are a waste."

"They're not," she said, "but you've got other skills. Why spend the effort on a game?"

Stan had to think about it. "What exactly are you going to do on this DC trip?"

"Oh, it'll be great. I'll get to meet Congressmen, and hold a mock Congress where we debate legislation..." Suzie trailed off with a smile. "Gaming, I guess. But that's at least practice for managing the real world."

Stan tapped the screen. "I'm starting to wonder if this is, too. If there're real minds in there, and they're starting to do stuff out here, then building up influence and friendships in the game is going to pay off long-term. I'm just not sure how yet."

#

That evening, Stan was negotiating with some gamers from Cuba for the use of their ship. A bulky consignment of assorted seeds and minerals needed transport across a long stretch of the Isles, and he wanted to be on it. Half the point was to get him far to the west to pick some return cargo, in such a way that he could log out and have his character transported while he did stuff in the real world.

Another player showed up on the docks, calling out to him. This one was like him in sticking with a basic human template and not being decked out in fancy armor yet. "I saw your ad! I want to work with you."

"Great. Give me a minute." Stan turned to the ship captain, saying, "I've learned some fighting skill, too, with thrown potions. So you can have me around as a guard for at least part of the trip."

"Deal."

Stan hit OK on a contract message box, thanked the captain, and addressed the newcomer. "What are you? Can you jump between worlds?"

"No, just a regular player. But I want to sail the Isles too and focus on the junk items the hardcore players don't care about. There'll always be a supply of newbies to sell to."

"Sounds good, but what can you offer me?"

"I don't want to work for you," the guy said, patting the rapier on his belt. "I can take care of myself. But our trade would go better if we started sharing info. We could have a sort of guild."

They talked for a bit. Stan said, "All right. Are you in this just for fun, or what?"

"Yeah; what about you?"

His new guild associate was right that there would be a role for item traders as the game expanded, but there were more opportunities than that. He thought about the unsolicited quest he'd been offered by e-mail rather than in-game messaging. "I think Thousand Tales could end up more important than the game itself. I'm getting in early on meeting people and figuring out how it all works."

#

When he logged out for the night, he found an e-mail waiting for him from the game's quest system. "Quest: A Word In the Right Ear. Introduce Suzie to Thousand Tales and have her play."

He frowned. She'd seen the game when he gave that lecture. She just hadn't played. An annoying bit of viral marketing, linked to the camera having recognized Suzie's face? Stan looked at the footer. Its wording was different from the generic "click here to unsubscribe" stuff from last time. This one added, "Thousand Tales is designed to bring fun to players of the game."

Not necessarily in-game fun, is what the message was telling him. And Suzie just happened to be headed for the capital in a month, making her someone who might get to say something to someone... Really, this little quest only looked like an advertisement. It was an invitation to dance.

"Message received," Stan muttered. If this sort of contact came from the "quests-level1" address, he wondered, what was level two? Someone in the game obviously had an agenda and problems to solve, and that meant chances for him to make himself useful, necessary, important. Somehow, his hidden reputation within the game meant more to him than the social score he had in the real world. He could game both systems.