With fire now available, Franklin moves on to part two of his four step plan- pottery. Specifically, he needs to make a container to hold a certain liquid. Now obviously, a ceramic jug of some sort is the preferred end result, but having only seen videos of pottery making and having no experience firsthand, he does not have very high expectations of himself…

As it turns out, his expectations should have been even lower, for once he has completed the molding of his clay, the shaping of the wet mud with just his bare hands, what he finds he is left with is... an abomination- a misaligned, malformed jar of some sort, resembling a hollowed out potato with tuberous lumps scattered along the surface. He looks at it for a moment, a deep and stern gaze in his eyes, as a quotation by Oscar Wilde suddenly comes to mind, which he recites aloud from memory:

I saw some designs on your vases done by someone who, I should say, had only five minutes to catch a train... the institution of pottery should not be a refuge for people who cannot draw nor asylum for the artistically afflicted.

Franklin stares at his “creation” a moment longer. Then, he offers a shrug. “Well, whatever. It’s not like I’m selling it on Etsy or something. As long as it holds waters...”

He means it literally, as in he really, really needs a container that will not leak. Hoping for the best, Franklin deposits his clay potato gently into the heart of the campfire, allowing the hot embers to lick the material dry. As he waits, he preoccupies himself with testing more elemental transmutations, working down the mental list he has constructed, starting with the cheaper materials at the top.

First up is sodium (Na). “Okay, this should be obvious, right? It has to be table salt (NaCl), or I’m a monkey’s uncle. Wait, actually, now that I think about it, that expression makes no sense. I mean in a manner of speaking, I already am a monkey’s uncle, in an evolutionarily distant way. So, does the expression imply plausibility or implausibility? Hm, curious, very curious... Wait, actually, am I the monkey’s uncle, or is the monkey my uncle? Or are we cousins? Wait, actually...”

“[Materialize].” A small white rock appears in the palm of his hand, and he brings it to his lips, giving it a lick. “Yup, definitely salt. Okay, great. Next up is… magnesium.”

Here, Franklin can think of two possibilities. “Magnesite,” he says, holding up a finger. “Or dolomite,” he continues, adding a second. In terms of complexity, the compounds are similar, insofar as they are both carbonated materials, meaning they contain CO2. The difference, interestingly enough, lies in their origins of formation. He taps his head, pulling up the mental image of their respective Wikipedia pages, reciting them aloud:

Magnesite derives from when carbon dioxide in groundwater dissolves magnesium containing minerals, which then later reform as crystalline structures. It’s formula is MgCO3.

Dolomite is thought to form from the chemical reaction of magnesium with organic carboxyl groups, aided by bacteria such as Desulfovibrio brasiliensis. It was used in the construction of buildings in ancient Rome. It’s formula is CaMg(CO3)2.

He has no idea which is more abundant naturally, though magnesite is strictly a simpler compound, so he goes with that as his guess. When he sees the pale yellow pebble materialize in his palm, he lets out a smile. “Two for two,” he says, finding the whole thing like a rather enjoyable game of trivia, “Okay, probably time for one more. Let’s see… potassium. Ah, another simple one. Potassium chloride (KCl) for sure.” And indeed, the manifest product is such. Colloquially known as sylvite, it is another pale yellow rock, which tastes salty upon licking.

Done with the experimentations for now, Franklin catalogs all the new information, literally writing a mental image to store into his photographic memory, adding them alongside previously discovered elemental transmutations: carbon, iron, silicon, and aluminum. Then he returns his attention to the campfire housing his still baking clay.

Thinking it complete, he uses a nearby stick to fetch the ceramic, inserting it into the hollow cavity of the clay container and gently lifting it out of the flames. He then sets it down slowly on the ground, the material still smoldering red. After letting it cool for a bit, and seeing that the color has changed, Franklin reaches excitedly for his creation, the clay potato, lifting it impatiently with both hands. Though in truth, he should have perhaps waited a tad longer, for the material is still quite hot, and as it touches his skin, a dulled burning sensation travels to his brain, like the sting after slapping something hard. Immediately, a notification pops up into view.

You have taken 1 burn damage.

“Whoops,” Franklin laughs sheepishly, and it does not escape his notice either that, between the incident with the slimes and this, it is clear there is something different about the way an avatar experiences pain compared to when he had been fully human, with all the implications such a difference might entail. After all, people with congenital analgesia, that is, the innate inability to feel pain, certainly experience life in a very different manner, whatever challenges it may involve. For a moment, Franklin wonders if he has been subjected to the same implications, at the very least, on a subconscious level, but then realizing that that is an entirely different rabbit hole he does not have time at present to jump down, he sets the issue aside, making a mental note to ponder on it further in the future.

Franklin returns to the matter at hand, literally, for his attention is now on the clay potato between his fingers. As with the fire, he feels it apt for something to be said to commemorate the occasion, and since the system apparently doesn’t care, it once again falls upon himself. He says, “Ding! Technology unlocked. Pottery.”