Jeremy sat in his recliner, fuming. He had just gotten back from taking the monthly alimony check to his ex-wife and was forced to listen to her berate him for a half-hour about his life choices before she let him see his son. Who was she to judge him? For some reason, the idiot judge decided to give her full custody all those years ago, despite her having cheated on him. And for what? An old juvie record and one charge of assault during a bar fight?

And who was she to yell at him about his life? That shrimp of a husband she’s milking for cash sure wouldn’t be able to make his boy a man. His Strength number wasn’t even in the two-hundreds. Pitiful. If it wouldn’t lose him what little visitation rights he had left, Jeremy would teach the stuck-up prick what being a real man meant.

Jeremy clenched a fist in front of his face, only to wince as a wave of weakness passed through him. What was that? His anger drained as it was replaced with confusion, and, to his shame, fear. Is this what a heart attack felt like? As Jeremy lowered his fist to the arm of the chair, he glanced down to his forearm and gasped.

- Jeremy of Carscott, Inclusion +0 days, 00:00 hours

“Okay, I think I’m ready,” Pallas says.

“Then go ahead,” I reply, gesturing ahead of us.

We are standing together next to a large tree, Melete, Styx, and Sam to our right. In front of us, in a small clearing in the forest, a dog monster snarls, frantically turning in circles and snapping at the air.

“This will not work,” Sam says. Again. But he keeps the monster trapped with its illusions.

“I know, I know, we heard you the first time. But you also said the odds of us gaining three different skills between the four of us in the first two weeks of the inclusion are minuscule. You don’t know everything there is to know about humans.”

Sam says nothing in response. I take that as admission I’m right and gesture again to the dog monster.

Pallas steps forward with the axe, and with a mighty swing brings it down on the middle of the dog monster’s back.

Unlike the first time I faced one of these monsters, there’s no need for a double-tap. Pallas pulls up the sleeve on his right arm, turns to us, and shrugs.

I grimace. “Are you sure you were focusing as much as you could? Like there’s no way you would be able to want it more?”

“I think so,” Pallas replies. “I don’t really know how I can make myself ‘want’ it any more. I was thinking about how useful it would be for me to gain its sense of smell, how it may save all of our lives. I can’t think of anything else that would make me desire it more.”

“Like I said, you cannot fake resonance to gain a skill,” Sam says. “The resonance must be inborn; it must come from the deepest parts of your being. A simple desire will not allow you to gain a skill.”

I just shake my head. “Let’s get moving, we still have some ground to cover before camp tonight.”

“How many Numbers did you get for killing it, Pallas?” Melete asks.

“Five.” He replies. Melete makes a face.

As their conversation continues, I talk with Sam, Styx listening in. “And you’re sure anything can become a skill?”

“That is correct. In the original being, it is simply an attribute of their being. It could be anything. If you were to kill me you could gain any aspect I possess: my sapience, my illusions, my legs, a single yellow eye, and so on. The only requirement is that there is enough of a resonance between the killer and the attribute of the killed.”

“Wait, so your illusions aren’t actually a skill? And the wisp monsters that gave Melete her skill, their singing wasn’t a skill either?” Styx asks.

“That is correct,” Sam replies. “My illusions are something all Alatir possess. It is the primary tool which allowed us to conquer our world, not a skill acquired through killing. And it is why I am concerned for humanity: you possess sapience, a tempting target for any creature, but do not have the requisite Numbers or abilities to defend it.” By now Melete has joined our discussion, but Sam cuts her off as she opens her mouth to speak. “And no, opposable thumbs do not count.”

Melete closes her mouth and pouts.

We’re once again walking in the forest, back into our normal traveling formation. Our time spent in Fort Carscott certainly was encouraging in regards to the strength of humanity in comparison to the monsters, but I’m still not confident enough to take the road directly to Clayton. Fort Carscott hadn’t received any refugees in the time we were at the fort, and I worry what may be stopping them.

I continue to question Sam. “So you’re saying any part of any creature could theoretically become a skill. Which means Pallas gaining the senses of the dog monster is feasible, it’s just the ‘resonance’ or whatever which is the issue?”

“That is correct.”

“Well then how did we get our skills?” I ask, thinking out loud. “I mean, I certainly didn’t want to be a shapeshifter. And did Melete want to hurt people with her singing?”

Sam offers its thoughts. “It is unusual for different members of the same species to receive skills so disparate. Usually, the skills for a species are somewhat related.”

“I don’t know about you Atlas, but I’ve always really loved to sing. Maybe that is part of it? Since I’ve loved it for so long?” Melete says. “And I know Styx hates Numbers, but what does that have to do with her being able to can--”

“I don’t hate Numbers,” Styx says loudly, cutting off Melete before she can finish. “Just because I’m a self-declared Number-Free Advocate doesn’t mean I hate Numbers. It just means I don’t like the way society uses the Numbers.” Melete looks guilty at her near slip-up, and I breathe a sigh of relief. While we told Sam about my skill this morning, we hope to keep the exact nature of Styx’s skill a secret from it for at least a while longer. As much as I want to trust it, that trust needs to be earned. Styx continues. “Do you have any idea why the shapeshifting might have ‘resonated’ with you Atlas?”

I hesitate. My state of mind in the years before the inclusion and directly after are not something I particularly want to share. I trust my new friends, but...that’s personal.

“Um...I guess I did have some thoughts about wanting to change some things about myself...” I explain ambiguously.

“We’re going about this the wrong way,” Pallas says, his voice deep and quiet as his head is turned watching our backs. “We need to figure out what we want, what we have resonance with already, and try to focus on that. And then find monsters that have those abilities.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Styx says. “Start thinking about what we want, not on a superficial level, but deep down, and see if we can relate that to any of the monsters’ abilities we’ve seen so far. I don’t know if it will help to focus on those desires beforehand, but it can’t hurt.”

The next minutes pass in silence, each of us within our own minds and discerning our desires. It’s much more difficult than I first expected.

What do I want?

Happiness? Safety? A challenge? I’m not even sure about safety...wasn’t that one of the things I hated most about the fort?

Thoughts circle through my head. A way to get home...but do I even want that? Won’t that mean I’ll have to leave my new friends behind? A way to keep my friends safe and together. Well that’s obvious. But what skill would go with that? It’s too general. A way to know if my parents are safe? How would that even work?

I continue to ponder as the afternoon turns to evening and we eventually break for camp. I try to stay focused, but as time passes I become distracted. We’ve been traveling in silence, thinking, for over an hour now. Melete is about as quiet as I’ve ever heard her, her face scrunched up in concentration. Pallas is on watch outside of the camp, diligently ensuring that we stay safe. Sam is crouched in a corner of the camp, who-knows-what passing through its head.

What do I desire?

In the end, I never directly look at her. But I can’t keep my thoughts from always returning to the last person in our small camp.

After a quiet dinner, I take the first watch as everyone else falls asleep. Sitting outside of camp, I’m startled to hear Sam’s voice echo in my head.

“Atlas, I have a question for you.”

There is silence after this first statement. I don’t see Sam anywhere nearby, so I assume it is still somewhere back in the camp and is just using its illusion ability to talk with me. Hoping it can hear me, I reply. “Go ahead, what is it?”

“You are the leader of this group of humans, is that correct?”

“Um…” I hesitate before continuing. “I don’t know if I’d call myself the leader. Sure, they follow me, but it’s not like they’ll always do what I say. We decide things for a group. It’s just no one else in the group is good at deciding.” I wince at my explanation.

“They seem to listen to you though. I have a request to make. Would you be willing to make a detour from the direct route to Clayton? The colony of Alatir I hail from is only two days travel off of our path, and I am sure visiting our leaders would help human-Alatir relations.”

I whisper in response, careful not to wake my friends. “I don’t think so, Sam. Two days off of the path? Each way? That’s not a small detour, and we want to get to Clayton as soon as possible to find our family. I don’t think the others would go for it.”

“Yes, but if you insisted they would acquiesce.”

“...maybe,” I reply. “But I don’t think I would go for it either. It’s been almost three weeks since the inclusion, who knows what Clayton’s like? We’ve been delayed so long already, I don’t want another delay. Maybe after we find our family and figure out what’s going on in Clayton we can go visit your leaders. No promises though.”

“...are you sure?” It asks.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just too far out of our way if it’s two days travel.”

There is silence from Sam, until finally it responds. “...I understand. Forget I asked.”

I just shrug my shoulders and turn my attention back away from the camp.

S: 102

D:100

W: 322

I: 102

C: 72

0

Skills: Adjust:Self