“I’ve been wondering. How bad are your daddy issues?” Ember said, aiming for fighting words. It must have kicked off something inside her, because May narrowed her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose.

“You watch. I’m going to have the old man eating out of my hand.”

“If he gets Alzheimer’s, maybe.”

Her practice at needling people had waned since her middle school days, but that blunt weapon was all that was needed to get May’s hackles up. She whipped out her sword, pointing the tip up towards Ember’s nostrils. Though on the short side for a rapier, at just under three feet long May’s weapon was a serious matter. You would have a hard time sneaking it past the TSA.

“This time there’s not going to be any deus-ex-Nokia nonsense. No more talk. It’s on.” May said, and punctuated her statement by charging forward. Ember tipped the standing pillar of the display case into her path, which at least broke her stride and forced her to hang back a moment. Enough time for Ember to duck behind one of the rolling whiteboards and put it between them.

Ember was hearing her own heart beat, and feeling it as well—powerful, epinephrine-driven throbs. She kept a close eye on May’s gray-and-pink tartan stockings below the edge of the whiteboard. She had to admit the girl had a killer sense of style. May herself seemed to be debating how best to come around the board. Probably weighing whether or not Ember had summoned the Cellbow and had aimed it at one side or another. Not a bad idea, if you were into coin flips. Having just lost one such, Ember wasn’t keen on it. Just then a message appeared written in white text on the flat of her Cellblade. She guessed it was from SOFI, given that to the left of it was a small 16-bit pixel art portrait of her.

‘You can’t win here. You need an edge.’ the message read. That was sensible—the fewer variables in play, the more May’s probable advantage in bare swordplay would prove decisive. She might’ve done better to think of that before throwing down, but that was spilled milk now. If she attempted to edit the article May would immediately move to intercept her on the way to the door and it would be over. She had to settle for something in there. ‘German Empire’ on the nearest whiteboard looked promising. Noticing the casters were unlocked, she sent the whole apparatus rolling towards May at a slight angle—the angle which would encourage her to take the side which would block her from going right for the exit. She didn’t even look up to see if the move worked, since she’d already activated the link and taken off. It must have worked, because she made it to the door and threw it open before being skewered.

The German Empire article setting was a version of the Reichstag from before the fire, and she slapped down the link for ‘Great Power’ so hard she almost erased it. The article was much larger than the last in terms of space, so when the link opened up on the door on the other side she was made to understand how closely she was being followed. There was no time to appreciate any of the subtopics in their finer detail. For time purposes she’d decided to limit her efforts to the summary unless success was imminent. Ember had a vague idea of where she wanted to end up—a place that was favorable, familiar ground.

She knew she had, at any given time, depending on how much faff she was tipping over in an effort to slow May, about a five second lead, and that lead narrowed every time she glanced at one of the blue dry-erase links. She wasn’t sure it was even possible to play the Wiki game under these conditions, as normally she preferred to ponder. There was only enough time to press the first semi-relevant thing and hope it brought her closer to her goal. In this way she had crashed through the articles on ‘Economy,’ ‘Service,’ and ‘Commodity.’ The more conceptual the articles got, the more they resembled a sterile art gallery, where the design focused on drawing attention to the ideas on display.

“Give up! You’re good at that.” May yelled after her as she struggled to skirt the parade of whiteboards and cases Ember was rolling into her way. It was a valiant obstructive effort, but between that and her faster speed she’d only managed to pick up enough time to offset what she was wasting on trying to get where she was going. Finally she came to ‘Market’ and then to a blue word she would never in a thousand years thought she would be so happy to see: Supermarket.

The interior of the Supermarket article caused a flood of memories to come rushing back to her, since all supermarkets everywhere looked basically the same. There were display cases here and whiteboards there describing the grand history of the titular establishments, but there was also a full sized supermarket with every representative aisle. She chose one in particular and disappeared down it.

Rather than follow Ember down the corridor, May went down the next aisle over and scrambled over the divider like a rabid squirrel. After parkouring across the top she jumped overhead and landed well past where Ember stood, bringing the chase to an abrupt halt. Ember skidded to a stop an ran about ten feet in the other direction before turning around to face her aggressor. May laughed in preemptive triumph, since she now stood between her prey and the exit, and the only way to go was back. That way was death.

“Wait. I’ll fight you.” Ember said.

“Was this your big plan?” May said with disbelief, her blade arrogantly resting on her shoulder. There was something written on the flat of it in bold white sans serif: ‘Your fashion sense is pedestrian.’ May greatly enjoyed the face Ember made when she squinted and tilted her head to resolve those words. Her opinion about the usefulness of the Bait ability remained unchanged, though, admittedly, it packed more of a punch than she expected. Maybe she could stand to take more risks.

“Didn’t you say,” Ember said, “that there would be no more talking?”

“En garde!” May shot back, and launched off of her back foot for a running attack. Ember didn’t even react, but simply stood there and waited for the inevitable, her sword limply at her side. She didn’t have to wait long, since a moment later May’s foot slipped out from under her and she tumbled to the ground with a high shriek. The girl slid about four feet due to her momentum and the now-reduced coefficient of friction she was contending with, even considering the contact area had risen from a patch of her shoe to most of her body. She slid past the two halves of the bottle of vegetable oil that Ember had earlier bisected over the floor, and only halted fully when a boot stepped down on her chest and the tip of a yellow Cellblade arrived at her neck.

“That was my plan.” Ember said alongside, bar none, the biggest, widest, most indulgent grin of her life. She was so proud of her dumb ploy working that she wasn’t even bothering to temper her pride. If the circumstances were reversed, May would already be ankle-deep in Ember’s blood. Instead she could only look up, grit her teeth, and drop the rapier she was holding. It clanged to the oily floor, no threat now. Ember had refrained from the obvious quip regarding spills mostly because, as a former supermarket employee, she no longer found it all that funny.

“How did you make it over?” May whined.

“Surface Tension Lite, a little Eos-specific Gesture I used to think was stupid. Turns out desperation changes your perspective on things.” Ember moved her sword away from May’s neck and offered a hand to help her up, which the girl ignored.

“I can’t believe this. I’m going to die. I can’t even beat you.” May rasped, and slapped her hand down on the oil. She tried to get up, but it slipped out from under her and she tumbled back down to the dirty floor. Ember was starting to feel pretty sorry for her.

“Even me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a bimbo from cloud cuckoo land. Maybe July is a moralfag but at least he knows what’s going on around him. Did you know the only reason the Red Team didn’t kill you was because we told them we were covering you?”

Ember frowned. Even if it was as May said, that didn’t necessarily mean the Red Team would have killed them. They might’ve been a bit more strident with regards the white stag, however.

“May, this might sound strange, but I wish I’d had a friend like you, growing up.” Ember said. May scowled at her.

“Kill me.”

“No, I mean it. There’s something about you I like. Not sure what that is, but… I want you on my side.”

“You’re so full of yourself.” May said, looking up at her with a smile, and took Ember’s helping hand. A moment of head-spinning Judo later, she was on her back and a newly armed May now straddled her and ran the tip of the pink-edged rapier along her neck. Her own hands were sandwiched down by May’s ankles. The girl didn’t weigh much, and perhaps Ember could have thrown her if it weren’t for the threatening blade pressing into her. The oil was slippery now that her back was to it, instead of the soles of her boots. Surface Tension Lite didn’t cover anything besides that, evidently. The ability description did telegraph that.

“Um.” Ember mumbled weakly, feeling her heart sink. Solipsism and cartoon idealism only went so far, evidently. She’d even been explicitly warned against both of these things, by SOFI and May respectively.

“I win.” May said, in a way that made it seem like a weight was coming off her. Ember was afraid to say much of anything else as May sat on her stomach with a dumb smile on her face, letting her endorphins do a victory lap. Eventually the girl sighed and looked down at Ember pitiably, which made her incredibly nervous and moved her to act. May’s strategy had a flaw in that the oil they were both wallowing in made it easy to snake an arm out from under her ankle. She grabbed May’s forearm, pinned her blade aside, and then get out from under her with a single surge of heart-pounding force. In the oil May lost her grip on the sword and the it clattered down the aisle, and then the situation evolved into an unusually slippery grapple. When Ember reached for her own sword May swept a foot out and sent it sliding away out of reach.

May eventually got the upper hand and pinned her again—this time face down—twisting one of her arms back behind her and bending Ember’s pinky backwards to the point of breaking. She reached down to relieve Ember of her Cell and let loose a shrill cry when SOFI tased her with Cell Defense, sending a crackling pulse of electricity into the girl the moment her fingers contacted the screen. The stunning effect of this resulted in Ember retaking the upper position. She got in a couple clenched-fist hits in on the temporarily dazed May and planned to continue as such until her fingers broke, which might have already happened.

Their fight was frozen in place by the low sound of a cough from one end of the aisle, and it was with shock that they both looked up to behold a User there with his phone up in a fell pose. He was holding it in the way one has to in order to steady it for video. They scrambled apart instantly, by implicit agreement, embarrassed by their admittedly trashy circumstances.

May attempted to give chase to prevent the video from going public, but still couldn’t get solid footing. The User was long gone before she even got to the endcap display. Ember used the tip of her Cellblade to help her get to her feet and then sheathed it, leaving May the only one so armed. Not that she was in much danger, since the girl was still having a hard time getting traction. Eventually May bit her lower lip and put her sword away as well. Ember knew there would be no heartfelt declarations of best friendship coming from that direction anytime soon, but at least the beast had been kept at bay.

“So, as I was saying,” May said, casually wiping off a trickle of blood running from her nose with her white shirt sleeve, “We’ll get a tank.”

It took Ember a full three seconds of mental searching to comprehend that she had just picked up the thread from before they started fighting. No point in talking about any issues that might have arisen in the interim.

“I don’t see how any part of that plan works.” Ember stammered out finally.

“We don’t have to drive it out. We can fire through the door.”

Even assuming the barrel of a museum piece hadn’t been plugged up, the fuel and ammo were almost certainly absent. Even if those stars aligned, they had no training. Room geometry might make the shot impossible. Those were only what she could anticipate, and she was sure there was a dark world of tank-specific errata that she preferred to remain ignorant of. The only thing the plan had in its favor was that, as problems went, it was more interesting than a scavenger hunt they were sure to lose.

“Alright.” Ember assented to May’s insanity. “We'll just have to find a tank article that connects from here.”

“Rules,” May explained, as though addressing a child, “are for losers.”

Then she scrawled ‘Type 10’ in blue dry-erase on the nearest board.

#

The Type 10 is the 4th generation main battle tank of the Japan Ground Self Defense Force, which Ember knew because that’s exactly what was written on the summary in front of her after it went through her internal Engrish interpreter. Most of the article, which was of the sterile art-gallery strain, had that ‘98% fluent’ feel that was to her quirky tongue what CGI characters were to actual humans. It was probably written by a native Japanese speaker whose command of English was certainly far better than her ability in any other language was likely to ever be. He might have studied for years. Still. She could tell.

She’d always found linguistic idiosyncrasies in wikis to be fun, as evidence that it was ordinary people behind it all. It wasn’t like every contributor was getting popped out of journalism schools with degrees in writing beige prose. Even as they strained to achieve a neutral style, personalities came out. The principal writer of this article was in all likelihood a man who was really proud of his country’s tank and wanted to tell the English speaking world all about it. Mission accomplished.

Ember read the article because there was nothing else to do. She considered fixing some of the more awkward phrases, but she didn’t care about the subject matter, and it wasn’t at all relevant to Enduser combat either. If she could forgive herself for a moment’s chauvinism: it wasn’t even an American tank. It might be a nice tank but if she wasn’t interested in tanks, she definitely wasn’t interested in foreign tanks.

May was exhibiting a real flair driving the example tank around the room, slaloming among display cases and standing whiteboards. She was having so much fun that it nearly looked to offset her disappointment at finding out the center piece was a radio-controlled vehicle about the size of an especially large shoe box. SOFI was meanwhile riding around in the commander’s hatch of the diminutive tank, wearing a fairy-sized steel helmet which she held against her head so that it wouldn’t fly off in sharp turns. Basically, everyone except Ember was having a way too much fun. May’s black Machina proved more than up to the task of becoming a controller, aided in this by a small interface her Agent ZUNE had evidently cooked up on the fly. The program also included an autopilot function, whereby her Agent would take direct control. Ember found that part to be the most interesting, but May had practically ignored it. She wanted to drive, not delegate.

If Ember told that girl about Gesture discovery, her own odds in the next dominance hierarchy establishment ritual would be slim. It might be wise to tell her sooner, since May would find out about it eventually. On the other hand it was hard to imagine her warming up just because she gave her valuable information. Maybe no point to it.

Ember had earlier tipped over the display case which once housed the RC tank, and was seated upon it like a bench. May’s glee became childlike when she figured out how to work the cannon, which spat out little plastic pellets in desultory arcs. This surprised Ember, since toys hadn’t been any fun (dangerous) since the late 70s, when the Boomers started to have children. SOFI finally flitted out of the hatch and stood upon Ember’s knee, now close enough to note that her little steel helmet had three stars on it. Patton.

“SOFI, can you make custom programs?” Ember said, and rested her head on her hand.

“Spring-types excel at creative efforts. Their maxim is ‘Create.’”

“So, no.”

“Ember, you should appreciate that your own gifts are certainly the object of someone else’s envy.”

Ember frowned. She had stuff. She just didn’t have all the stuff. Even if she had all the stuff, she probably wouldn’t use it all that well.

“What are the other seasonal maxims?” she asked.

“Summer is ‘Protect.’ Winter is ‘Think.’” SOFI responded.

“And my type?”

“It doesn’t matter. The maxims, the seasons, the Cellblade colors--they are for the public to help them understand you. Hint: it starts with D.”

“Is it ‘Destroy?’”

“Autumn is ‘Dream.’ Good guess, though. Maybe there should be shadow maxims.”

“Dream? Is that what I can do?” Ember said. SOFI shook her head vigorously.

“What did I just say? Don’t think of it as a fixed role. The human heart is large enough for everything, just not in equal measure.”

“So I can choose something else? Well, I know I can make a variety of decisions. I mean, can I change, fundamentally…”

“Who you are? Sure. Would you?”

“Maybe if I have a reason to. I don't.”

“If you could choose. Remember, it’s all just a bit of fun to make things easier to follow. Every time you resist the temptation to reduce something or someone to a symbol, every time you make the effort to see a thing for what it is, you do the world and your fellow man a small service.” SOFI pointed out, prompting Ember to make her smile a little more lopsided.

“Am I supposed to take note of the uniqueness of every chair? What if I’m just tired and want to sit down.” Ember said, finding the responsibility a bit much.

“Symbols, stereotypes, patterns, clichés, memetics—it is impossible to live without them, but it is also necessary to be mindful of their use. If you could see everything for what it was, wouldn’t that be something?”

“SOFI. I’ve noticed you prefer the particular over the general. Isn’t that sort of like the reverse of Plato? Are you a Sophist?” Ember said, armed to at least make the leap by a philosophy course she had taken in her last semester of high school. That was how she at first figured that ‘wisdom’ was the source of SOFI’s name. It could also be short for Sophist, a group of for-pay teachers who toured the ancient Greek world. They were a cross between motivational speakers, college professors, and rock stars. As far as Ember knew, historically the Sophists were famous for three things: publicly claiming to be the wisest, being full of hot air, and getting verbally dismantled by Socrates.

“Maybe. However, I’m not giving out general philosophical advice. In bringing that up you have illustrated my point. The reality is that I’m giving you advice. Not everyone has fair skin, but you do. Don’t you put on sunscreen when you go outside for a long period?”

“You’re saying I’m uniquely vulnerable to ideas?”

“See what I mean?” SOFI said, “There’s no use seeing the world in a grain of sand when you just need to get the stuff out of your underpants. The greatest danger to an Autumn-type is that she becomes so enraptured with the elegance of her own ideas that they separate her from reality. The particulars are useful. Think about May.”

“So you’re saying that, when it comes to May, I should just try to focus on the immediate and make sure that she has more important things to do than to kill me.”

May stopped the tank and turned around. Ember looked up from SOFI and raised her eyebrows delicately.

“I can hear you! Stop talking about manipulating me.” May said. Then she turned away and started messing with it again, so the transgression must have been minor.

“Of course.” SOFI continued, “If you have a dangerous weapon you treat it as if it is loaded, and keep it pointed away. That’s basic safety.”

May shot the two of them a look. The girl’s fascination with the RC vehicle seemed finally to be waning. She held up her Cell camera to inventory-ize it, and it evaporated with a flash. Given their inventories were backpack sized, it had to take up a ton of space.

Ember looked at May, searching her for signs of an impending psychotic break. May in turn put her hands on her hips in expectation, like a normal person who was waiting to leave. It had been upwards of half an hour since May had last attempted to murder her, and she was starting to feel past due.

“Let’s go.” the girl said.

Ember pulled out her Cell to fire off a text to July and December notifying them that they were on their way back, a message which was bottled up and then discarded for the lack of a signal to carry it. There was a distressing lack of signal anywhere in Tow. Her battery was down to 58%. Amazing how much she was aware of these little points now that they were the difference between life and death.

“SOFI, what kind of drain on battery is it to recover from an injury?” Ember asked.

“About 5 to 15% for a lethal injury, depending on severity, over the course of 30 to 60 centibeats. The system is initiated automatically 10 centibeats after you’ve been injured.”

In the spectrum of convalescence it was nothing, but in a conflict situation it may as well be an eternity. Since the game was meant to be watched, Ember could be subjected to all manner of lethal wounds as long as they were fit for public consumption. That was fine, though. The last thing she wanted was more realism.

“Your bones,” SOFI continued, “are limited to greenstick fractures and your limbs cannot be severed; however, a Cellblade may pass through them if it would have otherwise, do quite a lot of damage, and make it seem like your limbs are broken or missing. You can be rendered immobile, but not knocked out. If it wouldn’t happen to John McClane it won’t happen to you. So don’t be shy about putting yourself at risk. It’s not just that you heal faster, you’re also harder to injure. Superusers have some of the same abilities you do, but they don’t have the extra stuff like heightened senses, regeneration, toughness, speed, strength.”

Ember heard something knock around behind the third door of the room, and her curiosity regarding it became critical. There were three doors in all the rooms they’d been in, and they already knew the functions of two of them. One door led back to the article you came from, and the other was the link you were following out. When she opened the third door she found it was apparently a small unisex public restroom. There wasn’t anything remarkable about it, except for the fact that there was myriad writing on every surface, resembling the sanctum of a hypergraphic lunatic.

Like the scrawl on the whiteboards outside, it was in many hands, but this time there was no mixing it up in the middle of a sentence. There was a discussion taking place, so each statement had a single author. The most noteworthy thing in the room was a User, a tall, pasty man in his late 30s who mumbled audibly to himself as he penned out a note on the outside wall of the restroom’s single stall. A gray wool sock puppet with red button eyes was draped over his right hand, and in that sock puppet’s mouth was the marker he was writing with. It must’ve made things difficult. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t hear Ember come in.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, looking down at his ensocked hand, “That’s good.”

“Hello,” Ember said, knowing it would scare him. The man jerked and the pen clattered to the floor, rolling over the filthy tiles until it caught in the grout. When he turned around he looked embarrassed, as if she’d caught him masturbating. Thankfully he was not. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a white undershirt, he didn’t know the pleasure of shoes, and only one of his feet had a sock on it. The sock on his foot was of a similar coloration to the one on his hand, making no mystery about where the innovation sprung from.

“You scared me.” he said, both defensive and offended. The reflexive posture of someone who had been caught doing something wrong but wasn’t yet ready to turn their shame inward.

“I didn’t see another way to get your attention. What’s with the puppet?” she asked, turning her eyes down to the man’s sock. He held it always upright and at the ready against his chest.

The man nervously swept his sock-covered hand over his now sweaty forehead and slicked back what was left of his thinning black hair.

“What are you talking about?” he said, his voice quavering. Ember knitted her brow with concern. Under normal circumstances she would have gotten the hell out of there a long time ago, but under normal circumstances she didn’t have a sword and the means to employ it. If she met a weirdo in a bathroom, there was no automatic need to retire. That was a nice feeling, and she stuck around if only to revel in it. May was now behind her, and it was hard to feel the force of fear when that girl would go full Flynn at the drop of a glove on anything foolish enough to stray into her lethal radius.

May ascended to her tip toes to better look over Ember’s shoulder, then she bullied past and drew her Cellblade. It looked like things were about to get bloody, but even so the fellow made no move to defend himself. He backed up against the metal stall and waited with utter stillness, like he had a wasp on his nose. As he cowered, May moved the tip of her rapier to the bottom edge of his shirt. She lifted it aside and revealed there was, butting up against his pale midsection, a white Eos phone in a small clip-shaped device like the one Ember wore. She hadn’t even noticed it was there, since she was too focused on the absurd sock.

“What’s this?” May said suspiciously. Ember had seen Users with phones before, but she hadn’t yet seen one with a holster.

“Oh, that… I’m a Superuser around here. My name’s creditonion.” he said, and laughed nervously. May prodded the man’s sock puppet a few times, then finally judged him harmless enough to step back. SOFI had mentioned that Superusers could kill them, but that was hard to imagine happening if one extrapolated from their only data point so far. It was possible the police she’d met were Superusers, and she simply hadn’t looked too closely at their utility belts. She wouldn’t want to be seen staring at an authority figure’s spectrum of force, since that might be interpreted as a desire to test it out.

“Then why didn’t you defend yourself?” Ember said. She certainly wouldn’t have let someone come poke her with a sword. cred, on the other hand, looked more threatened by that suggestion than he did by the sword.

“You don’t attack people. That’s against the rules, and rude. You’re both Endusers, aren’t you? May and September.”

“How do you know our names?” Ember said.

“You all have broken some rules, which I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Boring…” May said, folding her arms and looking off to the side.

“It’s boring, is it? Then I guess you two wouldn’t be interested in my help in claiming the Mandate.”

“No, don’t listen to her.” Ember said, smushing her palm up against May’s cheek and pushing her out of the way with such an extreme bluntness that she thought May would actually respect it, “It’s very interesting. We’re very interested!”

What followed was a long, pedantic, and (as prophesied) boring primer on the rules of editing articles in Tow. Things started out sensibly enough with cautions against using bad sources or being offensive, and then it took a turn for the interminably weedy and arcane. May leaned up against the wall of the bathroom and seemed to be in a painful torpor as it dragged on and on. Eventually Ember felt the need to put a stop to it before May got a shadow of the same idea.

“Hold on, how many rules are there?” Ember said.

“Well,” cred said, seeming suddenly embarrassed, “if the rules, guidelines, pointers, cautions, rejoinders, and assumptions were collected in a book it would be about the length of a novel.”

“Which one?”

“Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.”

That set May into motion.

“I’m not listening to this idiot for another second!” she said, and prepared her Cellblade for the impending exsanguination. Ember liked that she waited to hear the title, as if it would make a difference if it were the comparatively breezy Philosopher’s Stone.

She quickly enveloped May in a bear hug, which prevented the girl from carrying out her threat as immediately as she would have liked. May struggled in her grip, aiming to get free and stick it to the man just for wasting their time.

“I told you, no attacking people!” he pleaded.

“I suggest you get to the good part. Fast.” Ember said, half-heartedly holding May back. She hoped he understood how little she wanted to be there, doing that. Ember let out a yell when May reversed her grip and stabbed her in the foot, right through her boot—just a warning, this time, like honking at someone idling at a green light. It had the intended effect and Ember quickly abandoned any plans for further restraint, taking her weight off of the injured limb and leaning up against the wall with a wince. Moments before being messily dismantled, cred had found his courage at last.

“I know where you have to go!” he wailed as he cowered in the corner.

#

Ember and May arrived late to the Gold coin article through the entry door, which was of course the same one the boys were trying to break through. July and December were stood in front of them, both looking much more sweaty and masculine than ever before. Control of the sledge had at that point reverted to December. He had taken off his coat and tie, which were draped over the edge of a standing whiteboard, and was down to a striped vest and Oxford shirt. This offered a glance at his physique which was surprising to say the least, with clearly defined arcs of deltoids and biceps which his suit coat had heretofore concealed. As May and Ember tried to get their bearings, the door closed behind them. A quick examination revealed a new and untouched brick wall behind it.

The boys had also acquired, somewhere in the bowels of Tow, a twelve-pack of cheap beer which was sweating on the empty plinth Ember had earlier stolen the Coin from. The beer served as a little reminder that July, at 22, was older than her, and that neither of the Yellow girls were old enough to drink in the puritanical police state they hailed from. May plucked a can from the box, which invited the attention of July, who paused mid-swing to address the matter.

“Hey there. You ain’t old enough for that.” he said. He then pointed to some generic soda they’d thoughtfully brought for the girls. May completely ignored him. Ember took up the offer, since she’d always thought beer had a nasty taste.

“I see you’re alive.” December said to Ember, looking surprised and pleased as if she’d come home early from work. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her gravely. “I know May is a handful, but I trust you and she will become the best of friends.”

“You’re not pawning her off on me.” Ember whispered, as strenuously as she could manage. December clasped her shoulder and gave her a look of pity. If his nefarious plan was to dump May on her permanently, she had to stop it.

“Hey, can we talk for a second?” May said to December, then glanced suspiciously at Ember and July, “…alone.”

December nodded politely to Ember, and then he and May disappeared into the adjoining Discussion room. Ember crept up to the door and quietly cupped her ear against it. Before she had the chance to hear anything, July grabbed her by back of her belt and hauled her away.

“I think I know why God put me here.” he said, “I’m the only one around with half a lick of sense.”

“I’ll just look up what they say later in the log, anyway.” Ember grinned. It was possible that they didn’t know about Tow’s panopticon, having not had the opportunity to speak to missfaun. They did possibly examine the tablet, though, so there was no telling.

“Just respect their privacy.”

“Do you want to be the leader? Really! I’m not cut out for it.” Ember said, being quite serious in the offer.

“I might could if this were the marines, but it ain’t. You can deal with May and you can deal with December and you can deal with me, so it’s your party. Now I might be the dullest one here, but I know you’re good people and I trust you. Lord knows what those two want.”

“Nuts.” Ember muttered.

“You’re already better than half of my COs.” July said. Even if he wasn’t serious, it was the most encouraging thing she’d heard in ages.

When May emerged a few minutes later from her talk with December she looked relatively calm compared to how she was earlier. Ember was intensely curious what words December had used to affect this change, and probably would look them up later when she had the chance. July was just about to bring the sledge down on the brick wall when Ember stopped him.

“July, there’s no use. We can’t leave.” she said. December looked at her curiously, and so did July.

“Whaddaya mean can’t?” July said.

“Watch.” Ember said. She drew her Cellblade and drew the Gesture for Shatter, which resembled a box with an X through it. The glowing yellow edge of her sword changed character slightly so that there was a thin glow of sky blue coming out from the flat. Near the hilt a small icon indicated Shatter was active and counted down the beats (and centibeats) until its expiry. She lightly punched the tip of the sword against the brick wall leading out and it immediately crumbled and fell away, revealing another identical brick wall underneath. The Shatter effect disappeared from her blade. July was surprised and dropped the 14 pound sledge, which smacked against the polished cement hard enough to leave a divot near where it settled.

“We win! Girls rule.” May said, and shared a high five with Ember.

“Now look here, you didn’t find that in Tow. That was your ability.” July said. Ember found it charming that he was making bones over the integrity of the scavenger hunt rather than engaging the larger issue of their being genuinely trapped in here.

“Technically,” Ember began, in the finest tradition of weasels everywhere, “The win condition didn’t require that it be from here. I went on a journey of self-discovery in which I realized the power was inside me all along. Hero stuff.”

July folded his arms and snorted, not looking as if he really respected Ember’s pint sized character arc. December approached the second brick wall which the shattering strike had revealed and put his hand on it.

“Did you take anything from this place? Something that would, perhaps, anger the local powers.” he said, looking over at her. He knew full well what she’d taken, though, and Ember looked down and sheepishly plied the floor with the tip of her toe.

“‘It’s only a wiki.’” July said in a falsetto which recalled more of Scarlett O’Hara than September from New Hampshire. Even at the time she had felt an ominous chill when those foolish words left her mouth. There was no taking them back, though.

“There’s a lot to talk about. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” Ember said.

They decamped to the pre-war Reichstag replica contained in the article on the German Empire. Ember rolled a blank whiteboard into the dais in the center of the room and took up a position alongside it. SOFI perched on the top edge of the metal frame, having ridden the whiteboard over while Ember was pushing it into place. The fairy must have judged that it was safe to use BT around May and December, for the moment.

“May and I have learned a couple interesting things when we ran into a local Superuser named creditonion.” Ember said, “The most pressing of which is the way forward to defeat Tow’s Mandate guardian. There are millions of rooms, but of course some of them are more relevant than others. We may run across other teams, so… I guess I don’t have to tell you guys to be on guard, do I?”

“Why don’t you try that yourself?” May said.

“Ahem,” Ember said, blushing a little. SOFI flew around with a marker that was almost as big as she was and drew helpful (or failing that, at least cute) little diagrams on the whiteboard as Ember spoke. “Because of my transgression—sorry, by the way—we’ve been sealed in here by the Mandate.”

SOFI piped up at this point.

“This is a dungeon, and that means no resting or recharging! It’s unusual that you’re being forced to tackle it in this state, so keep an eye on your resources. The only way out is through.”

Everyone pulled out their Cell at this point and checked the battery level. SOFI continued.

“Rewards for claiming the Mandate are: control of its powers for endgame purposes, a special Gesture, a secure base of operations, and a consideration of Coins. Local Superusers will also become loyal to our team.”

“Yes! Map control. Finally we’re getting to the good part.” May said.

“Interesting that the Mandate has a will.” December said. Ember nodded at him. cred was specific in saying that it was the Mandate, not the Mandate guardian, who sealed them in here.

“How far you willin’ to take this?” July said. September folded her arms.

“Killing Users and Superusers is gauche, but my understanding is that they’ll repopulate based on a timer particular to them. Some come back in, like, an hour, but others won’t return until the game is over. We’d never see them again. Either way, please don’t kill Susers for kicks. After we claim the Mandate they’ll be on our side.”

“No downside to offing Users, I see.” May said.

“Treating Users under our jurisdiction poorly will result in them migrating permanently to other districts. Susers need a certain number of local Users to justify their existence. If there aren’t enough they revert to User status. Our global popularity will suffer too. Just don’t be a dick, okay? May? Is it that hard?”

“Tch,” May said, then when she noticed the whole room was looking at her with quiet expectancy she threw up a hand and reluctantly added: “…‘kay.”

“What about others like us?” December said.

“Against the other teams? If we see them we’ll fight only if necessary.”

“We’re just going to run?” May said, about to leap out of her chair to throw a tantrum. Ember had to think of some sap to throw her.

“If we have to fight, we’ll drive off a hostile team without delivering the coup de grâce. It’s too early to be dealing out death.” she said quickly.

Neither May nor July were particularly happy about how circumscribed they were. Ember shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she thought of something to give them.

“If,” she said, not knowing anything of what she was going to say, except that it would have to begin with ‘if,’ “One of us is in danger, or has been killed, we won’t hold back.”

This seemed to satisfy them all—certainly for different reasons, but it did. A period of quiet marked a tepid legitimation of Ember’s plan.

“Don’t suppose that fella mentioned where to from here.” July said. Ember looked around at the Reichstag.

“Not far.”