Blank confusion paints Clutter’s face. I lace my fingers together, ready to explain myself, but then his lip twitches. From the blankness emerges grim understanding–deeper and more complex than I could have hoped for. It spreads until the tendons in his neck strain from the weight of keeping his emotions off his face.

  “It’s not as bad as being dead.” He whispers, but it sounds less like a statement and more him trying to convince himself that it’s true. “So… so what if the system made us. It’s not… it’s not…”

  He grits his teeth. “What about all the other species? Are they… real?”

  “Illumisia didn’t say much of anything about them. So I think they’re all naturally evolved.” Pearl says. “Most of them were around when I was still around, too, so I guess I can confirm that they aren’t forcibly uplifted.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Most of them?”

  “The paindne, the gris, and you humans. Maybe some more we haven’t talked to yet. Oh, and all the intelligent painted danes are completely gone. Eradicated by the system; all that’s left are feral monsters that’ll never be anything more than dangerous pets.”

  Clutter’s eye twitches. “Didn’t you… how come there are still painted danes left if the system uplifted all of them? Of… us?”

  I lean back and lace my fingers together. “As far as I can tell, some painted danes willingly sided with the system. Most of them, actually, if Illumisia’s right. The rest of them are what you know now as painted danes.”

  “Why?” Clutter balls his hands into fists and stares down at the ground. “Why would the system uplift us? Did it… did it want… a species it can have complete control over? Does it still have control over us, and I just don’t know that I’m being controlled?”

  His gaze snaps upwards and he locks eyes with me. “Am I spying on you without knowing it? Am I… am I the reason everything bad’s been happening to you since you got back? Did I lead you here so the system could trap you?”

  That’s one option I hadn’t even considered. And it’s a damn terrifying one at that. All the paindne that just accepted me the moment they saw me… was that because the system was telling them to? Can it really have that much control over an entire species just because it uplifted them untold thousands of years ago?

  “I… don’t have an answer for that, buddy. Hopefully the truth is that you’re in control of your own mind, but honestly, I can’t give that a guarantee.” I say as Clutter scooches as far away from me as possible. “If the system really has that much control over an entire species, then why didn’t it just get rid of me already? It’s just you, me, and Pearl right now. There have to be enough… paindne…”

  My gaze slowly trails in the direction of the lighthouse with the party of painted danes in it. They have no reason to have come here. What if the system influenced their thoughts and decision making? There’s no reason the control has to be obvious, or even strong; just a few little subconscious nudges and the paindne won’t even know they’re obeying it.

  “Are you thinking about them?” Clutter asks.

  I nod quietly.

  He returns the motion, but his is far sadder. “All five of them are paindne. I can’t remember why I can’t remember them. That screams system intervention, even if it can’t outright fiddle with the rules of the quest. I… I can make them leave as soon as I get my strength back. Or… um… deal with them permanently.”

  “A little drastic, don’t you think?” I chuckle, but it’s so humorless that I don’t even fool myself. “We’ll call that plan… ‘B’. Before we do anything, we need to figure out if the system actually has any influence on you. Hell, that suggestion you just gave out could’ve been nudged out by the system.”

  Clutter grimaces. “I really hate that you’re right. I… still feel like me, but is this really me? Or is me just an existence that’s always been influenced by the system, so I can’t actually feel what it’d be like to be completely free?”

  Pearl offers Clutter a sympathetic smile. “Illumisia hasn’t said or done anything. That has to mean you’re not a threat to us. Even if you aren’t, though, it doesn’t mean every paindne is. There could be factions, or bloodlines, or something that are more loyal to the system than others.”

  “That’s… true.” I say slowly. “Scooch and Clamber told me about one of their beliefs that says Illumisia was their progenitor, not the system. Do you think the system would allow anyone under its control to believe something like that?”

  “Considering it tried to make shellraisers when it couldn’t control us?” Pearl shakes her head. “No way, no how.”

  Light and life flash over Clutter’s face for the first time in close to half an hour. I want to believe it, too, but I can’t be optimistic at a time like this. Pessimism could be all that keeps us alive through the quest. Instead, I’ll leave the optimism to the paindne that needs it the most. Fidgeting thoughts return to Clutter, making their way up from a thumping foot to fiddling hands and finally onto his face as an idea.

  “Is this place where the system uplifted us? Is that what the ‘trials’ the construct talked about were; things to test if the uplifting was successful?”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A plastic-y thump hits the door. All conversation dies out instantly at the reminder of the construct trapped in the room with doors. Possibilities swirl about in my mind at the thought of it.

  “There’s no way it’s memory was repaired because I gave it a coin, right?” I ask, turning to Pearl and Clutter in turn for an answer. None comes. “Shit. It might actually have some of the answers to our questions. Clutter, do you even want them?”

  “If I’m a system creation, I need to know if that’s all I am. Otherwise you need to leave me behind and avoid every paindne you see from now on.” He turns to me, eyes blazing with furious inquiry. “No matter what. Until you find some way to… save me.”

  I nod solemnly and pat his shoulder. “I promise to do everything I physically can if that’s the truth.”

  “Yeah. Let’s just hope it isn’t.” Pearl says tensely. “I don’t want to see how Illumisia would react.”

  “Neither do I. Seal off the tower itself, Clutter; we’re not letting the construct into the same place we sleep. It can stay in the room with doors for as long as it wants, though.”

  “Can I do that?” He pulls out and squints at his Class Card. “No, I can’t; we’re the only two whitelisted… unless… is it because the construct isn’t technically a participant in the quest?”

  “Probably the only explanation that makes sense. Just like how Peal can come and go without a worry. Alright, I’ll just use a shield to make sure it doesn’t try to slink in.” I flip a coin through my fingers and nod at the door. “Ready? Or do you need a minute?”

  Clutter laughs and shakes his head. “I need a lot more than a minute, but it’s for other reasons. I’m as ready as I can be.”

  His confidence is about as shaky as a paper house in a windstorm, but his resolve is there. I motion for Pearl to climb back in her shell as I walk up to the door, shield coin in hand, and look back at Clutter as he slowly winces to his feet. When he finally notices me he gives me a thumbs-up. Here we go, then. One more conversation with the plastic construct.

  “Be ready to kill it.” I say seriously. “This can still be one of the system’s tricks.”

  Clutter cracks his knuckles. I’ll take that as his sign. My hand presses against the door, grey magic wells up against my skin, and I open it to reveal the construct standing as far away from the door as possible. Which completely counters the thump we heard a minute ago. Its face is neutral and placid, but from the way guiltily clasps its hands behind its back, there’s more personality to it than before.

  “You were listening in on us.” I state.

  The construct barely shakes its head. “I was not.”

  “That wasn’t a question, it was a statement; we heard the thump. What happened? Did you trip over your own feet and faceplant the…” I trail off as the door closes behind us, revealing an oily faceprint on this side. “Wow, I was actually right. What’s going on with you?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting to be… thinking when I was triggered today.” The construct glances around nervously. “It’s quite noisy when your thoughts just won’t stop, isn’t it? A constant stream of pointless drivel and observations of the most menial things around you. One of your boots is untied, by the way.”

  “Yeah, one of the laces broke. So I just knotted it.” I shrug as Clutter disappears into shadow. “Nope; don’t do that right now. I need you here to ask questions.”

  Clutter shoots me a look of resistance, but reappears a moment later. He’s obviously uncomfortable, but… maybe a little less, now that the construct is talking normally. Or maybe he’s just got heavier things on his mind right now.

  I scratch my neck with one hand and thumb back at the door with the other. “Since you overheard everything, you know some of what I’m going to ask. Who the hell permanently damaged you? And was it because of what you said to us when we brought you the heart?”

  The construct frowns. “I have no data of the attack. But I do know that I returned to normal after my little outburst from touching the heart. Give me a moment to consult my archives to find a hole in which the attack happened.”

  Plastic wires dance along the construct’s form as its eyes go blank. Clutter steps in close and waves a hand in front of its face, which elicits no response. He turns to me and shrugs, but his expression says he expected to be stopped. Seems like the construct can’t sense anything that it can’t see. Maybe that’s a new development.

  “That is concerning.” The construct eventually mutters. “I was not triggered again after our heart encounter until the person you call the ‘horizonguard’ found my alcove a few hours ago. There’s a constant flow of data until then, and then the errors… appeared at the moment of activation.”

  That’s concerning. “Is there an explanation for that?”

  The construct slowly nods. “Unfortunately for me, yes. As of this moment, I can’t access any information on the quest. All ancillary info is perfectly accessible, though, and the cutoff moment was when you gave me the gift of thought. It must be a failsafe the quest put in for a moment exactly like this.”

  “So… you’re useless.”

  “No. Not at all. I still have access to far too much information. Almost all of it, in fact; all that is missing is that which would harm the quest’s continuation. I can… feel the holes.” It says with a shudder. “It is not a pleasant feeling in the slightest.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is there a hole in your data between being activated by the horizonguard and actually seeing him?”

  “In a way, yes. In others, no. I recall being activated, and then there is a hole, and then the horizonguard and two others are standing there before me. All wearing masks.” The construct twitches as a wire threads through its ear straight into its head. “From their reactions and the magic in the room, what had been done to me already happened. Unless they came back and tried to falsify the account, I can see no way for them to have caused it.”

  “Then it’s either the quest or a third party.” Clutter grumbles. “Which means we’re right back where we started.”

  “Not necessarily. Now we have proof that it’s one of those options.” I shoot the construct a glance. “Let’s sideline that for right now. What can you tell us about this place? What’s your actual reason for being here?”

  The construct visibly relaxes. “Now those are questions I can answer. I am the central database in charge of the birthplace of paindne. After being deactivated for an unknown amount of time I was reactivated and became a part of a ‘quest’, which–”

  “Birthplace of the paindne.” Clutter whispers, but not with reverence. Many other things, but not reverence. “So we are system-born. Just willing pawns.”

  “Pawns, yes. Willing, though?” The construct tilts its head at Clutter. “That depends on if you were part of the first or second wave.”