Error after error after error. I watch as some of the notifications disappear and others pop up, replacing them. The ones that don’t change, the ones that sit there, are the ones coded green. They just sit, unmoving.
Untouched?
I purse my lips, but noise from the corvid makes me glance at the unspeaking Administrator. I shift my sight away from him and check the Administrator Network. Only to find myself less than impressed.
“I’m blocked from everything but the local node,” I say.
Silence greets my words. I start to speak but notice his clawed fingers flicking in routine. I shut my mouth, watching silently as I test the edges of this Administrative block with my System Edit Skill. It doesn’t take me long to feel how hard, how rigid it is.
If it can be bypassed, it won’t be by me.
“You are blocked because you are but a Junior Administrator,” Sefan says finally, his fingers stilling. At the same time, I see a green ticket disappear. “An unauthorized Junior Administrator.”
“And here we get to it. So will it be door T or B?”
“What?” Sefan says.
“Threats or bribery?”
Sefan lets out a little screeching noise. The grip on my sword tightens and the tip bobs up and down under my grip. I try for Ali, hoping I can get an ally, and find the very same block in place. Not that it matters to the corvid who ignores my caution as it continues to screech. It takes me a bit to realize he’s laughing.
“You are blunt as a warhammer to the beak.” Sefan cackles. “Do you humans not know subtlety? Grace?”
“I’m North American. Our version of subtlety is checking if you’re fine after we kick your ass,” I say.
“And you think you can ‘kick my ass’?” Sefan cocks his head. Down, down, down until he reaches his shoulder, his head tilted until it goes past the edge of his shoulders. My neck hurts just looking at him.
“I’ll give it the good old college try.” And hope that the question marks are due to our location and not the fact that he’s a Legendary. Because otherwise, this will be an incredibly fast fight. And not in a good way.
“College. How quaint,” Sefan says. “But you have gained knowledge you should not. Endangered an order you should not. You and those Corrupt Questors continue to be a pain in our order.”
“Then why not just kill us all?”
“Because we occasionally get something useful.” This voice is high-pitched, female. It’s accent is unnatural and stilted, a Latin American one of some sort. I never did visit before the apocalypse.
I jump, looking up at where the voice comes from and get a spideresque nightmare. It’s a reminder of Xev, my old mechanic. The creature is similar to her in the vaguest sense that a house spider compares to an invisible tarantula. Because this one, above, is invisible except for the barest outlines. It’s not even a Skill, just its natural ability to play chameleon.
Wex (Senior Administrator Level 17)
HP: ???/???
MP: ???/???
Conditions: ???
“Who the hell are you?” I back away, only to stop when I realize that Wex is moving too, making sure to hover right above me. I growl, but if my displeasure makes any difference to the spider, there’s absolutely no indication.
“You may call me Wex. Senior Administrator.” The bulbous head, with its multi-faceted eyes, turns slowly. Then, disturbingly enough, it conjures a bundle wrapped in spider-silk and sinks its jaw into it. A little of the liquiefied remains drips out from where its fangs pierce the bundle, missing me by a foot or so.
I keep my face neutral at the display, just letting my lip curl up a little. Intimidation. Petty intimidation.
I turn over its words, seeking understanding. If there’s an argument about how useful I can be, that explains why I’m not dead. I wonder how often Administrators are made, what the usual methods are of creating such individuals. It’s a Hidden Class, but is it one you could get from just knowing that you can alter the System? Certainly a level of mastery over Mana Sense is required. But is there more? I would guess so, or else there’d be a lot more and it would be a less well-kept secret.
If there is more, if it’s hard to make Administrators, maybe I have more leverage than I think I do.
“Something useful, you say.” Yeah, fine. I’m as blunt as a virgin asking for his first kiss.
“But I fear there’s nothing useful in this one,” Sefan says. “He’s a bog-standard Administrator. One with problematic connections and an even more problematic attitude.”
I bite my lip on my instant retort, keeping an eye on Wex above. I’m getting the idea that these two are the representatives of opposing viewpoints. And Sefan is never going to warm up to me. So…
The spider makes the bundle disappear back into its inventory before it answers. That the bundle is half the size, I try not to note. “We’ve yet to see what he can do. Or why the System chose him.”
“The System?” I say, only to see Wex nod a little.
So. That’s interesting. A notification window blooms before me, the ticketing system appearing before my eyes.
“Enough talk. Let us see then. Or be done with this,” Sefan says.
I could ask what they want to see, but I’m not that dumb. And since what they want from me is what my own curiosity is killing me to explore, I take to it with gusto.
First, I plant my feet apart, making sure I’m well balanced. Then I shift the window to the main focus area before I pop out tickets. I toss them to the side of me, leaving them hanging in mid-air without accepting, without closing them.
I do that for a half dozen before I stop, then I probe the connection between the ticketing window and me. I look for more information, more details that can be brought forth. To little surprise, there’s more information that could be added to each ticket.
The stream of information, the flow of Mana it denotes, was hidden by default. I delve into the view, looking for details, looking for what I need. Previous administrator comments—added. Number of times tickets have been accessed—added. Security access requirements—added. Time in queue—added.
I customize my interface, pulling more information and discarding others. I automatically filter away anything I don’t have access to. Then I filter out anything that requires significant access to multiple databases. I filter by previous comments by administrators, putting those at the bottom of the list. And then filter for new tickets that haven’t been accessed.
All of it to find work that I’m more likely to do well. I can’t guarantee that it’ll work, but it’s better than accessing tickets where previous Administrators with more experience have started and left unfinished.
Maybe it’s not what they’re looking for. Maybe they want someone brilliant and gifted, who’ll tackle the hardest jobs and somehow, miraculously, do what others can’t. But those kinds of individuals only exist in movies and TV shows. And sometimes, rarely, in really life. For the rest of us mere mortals, who have to wade through mud when it pours, who have to learn to dance by taking classes or put on pants one leg at a time, we’ve got to start easy.
And work our way up.
The tickets I’ve opened help with that. I pull data from them, digging into details before I accept anything. I get more information, more columns to show me what I need. The System can show more than I could begin to guess. Number of databases accessed. Number of Classes involved. Number of individuals involved. Sphere of effect. Amount of Mana involved or stored within the Class, or Skills, or enchantments, or whatever else is being affected.
I sort and adjust, filtering again and again. All the while, the pair of Senior Administrators watch me, saying nothing and letting me do what I want. The tickets before me change, adjusting constantly as they update with new information.