《Imagine Being a Rare》MMS 25. Normally Places Like This Are Backed By Taxes

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“I can't believe an elephant trampled the stadium during its struggle against Alvin Renzis! I was this close to getting the design changed, I know it!” Uryeong kicked open the bungalow door and stomped in.

“That's fine, that's fine,” Diora said as she followed and flicked her hair, a mannerism calculated to remind everyone that skumans had a streak of a secondary color up there and consequently counted as being different from humans. Her stripe was orange against primarily blue hair, a whimsical successor to Beckt's red-on-black version. That was the best the developers could do till mobile devices implemented proper odor technology. “After we branch our project from the root version, progress is a definite. The Marileanna Squared Circle will be elegant and practical.”

Gary Whitecrest snorted. “Sure, I like a ring as much as the next guy. Just think over how good I would look jumping around the outside of one with a megaphone during the match. But the key part is all the advanced equipment, and we don't even know what it is or where to get it.”

“We'd do better to put our existing resources to use before we work out the numbers on further acquisitions.” Wruden Calx entered last, counting his gains from a recent bet for the fourth time.

“Before you say more, I'd like to know what the chances are of a Marileanna Dome being sabotaged as mercilessly as both Cadmos Domes.” Clazdius Oranio gazed at his hat in his hands, unwilling to punctuate his accusation with a pointed stare.

“I won't lie to you. Anyway, I've conferred with my partners, and by the flares of the sun, it wasn't all blame-shifting and back-patting for once. Here's the proposition. It's an exhibit set up in this very house dedicated to the newer officers and races with a focus on Marileanna. I mean statues, monitors set up to loop the most flattering footage, charts of favorable sales estimates and polls, a simulation where visitors can watch numbers go up or down as they alter the proportions of different races in the game, and overall the flashiest dreck you can imagine.”

Ozric Orn Pallad raised his rapier.

“Yes, you'll be in it too. Do you want to be the model for one of those training things that swivels and hits you if you don't hit the targets right in the center?”

“That sounds delightful and whatnot, but I was more looking for answers to a pair of related questions that came to my mind just now. Here they are. What's the point of this and who's supposed to show up? Nothing and nobody? I expect any man of practicality has already considered these issues.”

“That's fair. You're right of course. Now listen.” Wruden Calx tapped the floor with his gem-laden pick. “That's a rich sound, but only because you can see the money that went into it. Presentation. That's how to turn resources into income. It just so happens that I have come into contact with a certain party that wishes not to be subjected to the usual press treatment. That's where we'll find our competitive advantage. This party has developed a state-of-the-art sound and lighting system which it hopes to introduce to the public in a limited, controlled rollout in areas carefully chosen with the proper acoustics and so forth to show it off to best effect. My bungalows fit the bill, by chance.”

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Captain Hwanimesca raised her hand. “Was that chance one hundred percent?”

“Yes. What do you say now that you know our gallery will have a ground-breaking new audiovisual setup? I'd say visitors will break the door down to get in, and they'll be outright mesmerized once they do.”

Diora looked disgusted, one of her character designer's favorite expressions. “If you know a way to hypnotize people into liking us, put that up front. Don't . . . what is it that journalists say?”

“Bury the lede,” someone called through a window everyone inside could have sworn was closed the last time they checked.

“Right, right, thanks Lasva. Don't bury the lede.”

“Lasva!” Wruden ran over to the aforementioned window. “Stay right there so I can put you straight on responsible ways to ask for an interview!”

“Too late! I'm outta here!”

“Lasva!” Wruden Calx shook his pick at the retreating figure. He could have caught up to her since she tripped over her ballroom gown a couple times, but pick-shaking took precedence. Meanwhile, the rest of Team New Blood discussed the proposal.

“It's too shady not to try!” exclaimed the head of Smidgen that fit through the door.

“Intrigue, even practical intrigue, is a compliment to the wit of the party performing it and the worthiness of the party being intrigued against. Against which is being intrigued. Hm.”

“Never show them your insecurities, Ozric.”

“I like to think of it as humanizing, Mademoiselle Diora.”

“That isn't necessarily a recommendation,” Captain Hwanimesca said. “People like the fantasy in a good design. Someone like Jonathan Brightwater. It's hard to believe he has that kind of height and is that svelte at the same time. You're expecting A**** the G****, but instead you get an underwear model who's huge. More ravishing-like. A bit of excess is highly attractive. He has a tail, too, but it's hard to see that from the front.”

“Before we get into that.” Marileanna's soft voice tinkled like a timer to signal the end of the debate. “I've been waiting for someone to oppose the exhibit idea. Is that not going to happen? Anyone?”

“I could see my way toward offering a wholly insincere objection, if you like.”

“Thanks anyway, Clazdius Oranio. Wruden Calx, when you're done yelling at Lasva, please let us know what we have to do. Now, as far as that bit of excess, where on the spectrum does my big, floppy hat fall? Too big? Just big enough?”

“A little small, if anything.”

“In Commandment of Hero news, a new exhibit is open to the public for a limited time beginning today. The exhibit is sponsored by Marileanna, an officer, or character, belonging to the Ultra Rare rarity, the highest available in that game, who was recently selected to appear as a playable option in Commandment of Hero: Ersatz Struggle, the upcoming fighting game developed by ISOT Insoft based on the Commandment of Hero intellectual property. The purpose of the public showing is to celebrate Marileanna's inclusion and the latest exciting developments in this lively mobile game.

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“The highlight of the exhibit according to several audiovisual experts is likely to be what is being called 'a dramatic tour,' which will involve a narrated tour repeated at regular intervals backed by a musically enriched light show produced by technology, quote, 'far more advanced than anything you filthy savages have ever heard or seen,' end quote. Some sources claim the sound and light systems to be used in the exhibit are the brainchild of technicians in a less fantasy-oriented game than Commandment of Hero. Rollout was delayed for fear that the general public is far too unsophisticated to appreciate the stunning audio quality only now possible.

“A devastating fire has broken out in Dust and Highway. Authorities say a tanker that was carrying jet fuel from Project Contrails to a post-apocalyptic theme park overturned during an especially rowdy . . .”

That segment from Veronica Delfosse, the most reliable name in reading news reports written by other people, riled up brave warriors eager to challenge the newest technology. People attended the grand opening of the New Blood Gallery from every game. Not from Divine Providence. It had no characters. Or Universe Testament. Every game from which people might reasonably be expected to come. They wore their best and also their only for the occasion, and everybody who was anybody was somewhere, possibly there.

The usual problem with museums, galleries, and science fairs that reduces them to unusability for most people is the necessity of deciding how long you have to wander around before everyone understands how cultured you are. Team New Blood's system took care of that. Visitors walked in the marked entrance. They next waited on a start panel attached to an automated belt in the floor till it detected sufficient weight. At that time, the machinery activated to start the belt moving and send colored lights and lasers to highlight displays one by one as the belt carried the tour group along. A calm, almost hypnotic voice narrated to the delight of the visitors but disappointment of the system's engineers, who chafed at that “almost” part.

Non-officers learned all about Polsom and Haybra, those being the god and goddess of water and the tides whom Marileanna worshiped; about the buman race and what made them so pleasingly blob-like (genetic engineering by space weirdos of course); the countries of Tsinro, Jufi, and Onbu which shared a legend of ursit ancestors and near-constant wars; the care taken to keep Skill Stars of new officers viable while experimenting with unconventional effects in order to avoid mechanical stagnation; how nice skumans smelled unless they were scared. Officers learned nothing. Either they knew all that or never would.

They still got something out of the experience, though. “It's great to see such optimism for the future,” Cadmos remarked as he stepped off the exit panel and entered the room containing the gift shop and the interactable sales projection installation. “Some games slow down after a few years. I've seen cases where even a successful game feels like it's dying long before end of service and makes people depressed and pessimistic for no reason. Team New Blood has done an important public service in combating that here today. I'd like to thank everyone in Marileanna's faction, Marileanna herself, and all the unethical Convergence/Divergence technicians who made this showcase possible.”

A different aspect of the presentation struck Serdon Miloz. “Innovation keeps making it so that every time I wake up in the morning, I go to sleep in a different world. Where's the genius who decided on subliminal messages as the backing vocals so I can admire him? The whole time the frontwoman is talking about our game, it's contrasted with the idea of going to your nearest Sit Snug right now, and the tension between them, it's just this frisson, just incredible.”

“I didn't notice that. So are you going to one?” Cadmos asked him.

“No way.”

Across the street, in the back of an inconspicuous van, a Security instance wearing headphones tsked.

Aerywe Beruvo had a complaint, or rather a suggestion for improvement. “Much was made of the range of scents skuman are capable of emitting. Should there not be samples? A perfume counter, or an interactive station that sprays you, or else skumans available for smelling?”

“We can fix that.” Flawless Pedigree cantered over to Beckt, rubbed the skuman's head with his knuckles, and held him up. “Take a whiff of this. We won't even charge you extra.”

“It may have been a mistake to support this endeavor,” Beckt remarked, but it was too late.

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