The Call to Tomorrow
Buddha stood alone, as uncomfortable as a fish seized out of the water, while Solomon saw a clear opportunity - a chance to learn more via careful interrogation. With a nod and magical word to the crowd, he urged them to resume their revelry. A wave of the hand reassured worried minds and restarted the music's upbeat tempo; a few eyes lingered on Buddha, although soon returned to casual, mindless roistering. Grasping Mona's arm, Solomon approached Buddha with a confident, enigmatic smile.
"Hey there, I'm Solomon. And this charming majesty is Mona, my wife," he said, a detoxification cantrip already clearing out Mona's circulation, dissolving alcohol into other harmless mixtures that didn't affect the nervous system or brain as much. "You said you're Buddha?"
"Yep. Johnny Buddha," the man answered, offering a hand. He grinned. "Nice ta' meet'cha."
He accepted the handshake. "Johnny Buddha? I don't believe I'm familiar."
"Well, you shouldn't be, ain't exactly a common name."
"It's a nice name," said Mona, a soft smile spread on coral-blue lips.
"Thanks."
"Are you..." Solomon spoke slowly, falteringly, as his divination returned unclear results, "not Enrolled?"
"Nah." The man chuckled, hands on the back of his head, fingers interlaced, as if finally starting to relax. Good. That was the aim. "That ain't me, bossman. I from that other place, a big buck away from here. Lotsa graffiti and people in cute suits and ties. You got those here as well?"
"Sure. More on Earth than Fortuna, but yes."
"Ah. Earth's the other world of this cluster, right?"
"Yeah." Solomon's eyes narrowed a little, as he contemplated the question. The man was not Enrolled and seemed to be an otherworlder on top of that. His master was likely a non-Thematic wizard as well: supernatural coming from the beyond, not unlike Abraham, if slightly friendlier and less quarrelsome. "So, who's the man you're with?"
"Oh, the wizard? He's the oldest, most boring farter I've ever met," Johnny said, bursting out into sudden laughter. He scratched one of his temples with a finger, thinking. "Well, I'm a sorta pupil of his, although 'hired helper' might be the more accurate term. I do odd jobs he can't be arsed to handle himself. Assassination, scouting, recovery, intercession, sabotage, theft... sometimes more wholesome stuff, sometimes I deliver packages or messages, that sorta stuff. Basically, you can think of me as a mercenary intern."
"You must be pretty talented to work directly for someone like him," Solomon answered, smoothly flowing around the topic of the wizard's name. It was clear that Buddha was more skilled at discourse - and more skilled overall - than he projected outwardly. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"Nah, I don't drink. Besides, we'll be here five, maybe ten minutes." Buddha chanced a look back at the distorted bubble of grayness, nothing within visible, clearly to avoid lip-reading and similar skills or powers of visual analysis.
"Hm. And what are you here for?"
As if to deny Solomon the answer, the privacy dome collapsed, a sound not unlike shattering glass accompanying the event. Solomon looked and saw the Educator had ruptured the magical divider with a tap of the cane, much to his conversation partner's frustration.
"-do believe this conversation is over," the Educator finished a statement, sounding characteristically upbeat. "Thank you."
"You don't even see the mistake you're making, do you, Simon?"
The Educator's face was no longer an indistinct smear to Solomon's eyes - or anyone's, if the shocked gasps were an indicator - as if the mere mention of the mortal name forced a recall of its features onto the man's countenance.
A metaphysical attack, as Solomon understood; if not withdrawn, it'd permanently harm the Educator's form of Enrollment.
The Architecture stuttered and glitched, as if a singularity were leaking excess heat into the machinery, clogging its motions with errors. The Educator stilled for a long second, and Solomon discerned a change of vast proportions, as an invisible shadow fell over everything that mortal eyes couldn't see. He almost staggered from its titanic scale. It was as if the Architecture itself were curled up and drawn into a warrior's fist, reforged into a spear that could, in one well-aimed throw, shatter the world.
The Educator's voice was strangely human - no affectation, no byplay, no fake cheer, no enigmatic tricks, no concealed secrets; only a raw and very human emotion: cold arctic wrath, like ice water from a glacier - as he asked, in short bursts, as if needing to reload between each sentence from the sheer lung-shaking grandeur of his wrath:
"What did you say? To me? Just now?"
Johnny started to retreat, slow and careful steps backward, and Solomon felt compelled to follow, as did everyone else in the chamber. The shadow's magnitude was thick about them within the immaterial layer of reality as if a shroud made of condensed Severity were whipping about their feet, stinging like heated charcoals.
The wizard's expression was unapologetic: a sardonic smile adorned his face, as if this were a simple game. "Oh, I meant no offense. Just calling an old friend of mine by his real name, since it seemed to me he'd started to forget himself. Am I not allowed to do that anymore?"
"You want to play that game? Here and now? You remember calling that name up with me, that's a two-edged sword for a reason?" The Educator's statement was a grave warning. It had a threatening tenor, the cadence of someone asking, 'you remember nukes can explode, don't you?'
"I am shaking in my boots," the wizard answered nonchalantly. "You chose your way. We chose ours."
"I'm afraid you don't get to choose for me." The Educator's fists clenched.
"Sir-" a now clear-headed Penelope started to step forward, seraphic wings tucked away with cautious worry.
"Back off."
"Sir, please, calm down-"
"I said back off, Penelope." The Educator moved a hand in a commanding gesture and Penelope immediately stepped backward until she was in line with Solomon, movements controlled by some unnatural impetus. The Educator faced the wizard. "Apologize. Now."
"I don't think so," answered the man, a cautious eyebrow raised. "On our last meeting, we parted on admittedly poor terms. I don't think you should make our parting here a murder, not over a literal nothing. You've become more a living Role than a man; how are we supposed to know you can be counted upon when it matters? Look at all the madness you've wrought, even in defending the Earth. Has my friend died and been replaced by an avatar of the concept of education? I am asking you to see sense."
There was anger, now, a tangible substance of sheer wrath, in the Educator's voice: civility's thin mask ripped off like a scab scratched off to reveal a naked, bleeding wound, voice full - thick - with barely-subjugated rage, "Last fucking chance, Cyrus. This is, all of it, necessary. I know better than you how necessary it really is. Take it back, now."
For almost a full five seconds - an eternity from the perspectives of people such as them - they stared each other down. The wizard, Cyrus, with a face showing equanimity and tactical contemplation, and the Educator with a flaring anger that surpassed any emotion Solomon had ever witnessed from the man.
"Alright," Cyrus eventually said, calm and diplomatic, and raised a hand, as if in surrender, "Calm down, no need to be so angry. I apologize, okay? I take it back. You're the Educator. You've taught many people over the decades. You've educated. Who am I, an old man, to question that?"
"Nobody," the Educator answered, almost spitting the word out, and then returning to a calm demeanor. He straightened out, as the blurred mask of many faces slipped once more over his own mundane profile. "You're nobody here."
"Good talk," the wizard answered firmly, revealing a mote of sardonism. "Same time next decade as usual?"
"Leave or I'll show you the door myself," the Educator warned. "I am not built of infinite patience; your apology earned you back some consideration, but even so, you've exhausted most of it in a single word. Unless you want me to teach you what else singular words can accomplish, I recommend you take my advice."
"Some scripture student you've turned out to be," the wizard said, already striding for the middle of the chamber and making a circular gesture, which started to cut a hole in reality, opening the same portal as before.
"I'll have you know I never asked to be bothered," the Educator replied with some heat left. "I rendered what good I could with my granted power. Your so-called 'judgment calls' aided nobody except a very small cabal of people. If you ever need actual help with something substantial and benevolent, you know where to find me."
"Heh, 'a very small cabal of people.' You're one to talk." The wizard chuckled coldly and half-turned with a frown. "Buddha?"
"Welp, that was all sortsa fucked up. See ya guys," Buddha said and swiftly stepped through the crowd and up to the old wizard - no longer as flippant as before. They stepped through the portal and it disappeared. The Educator's shoulders loosened a fraction. After that conversation, no one was really in a partying mood anymore. Tension filled the chamber. No one wanted to speak, but eventually, Solomon knew that someone had to break the silence, and who better to do that than himself?
"Educator?" asked Solomon.
The man half-turned, arms folded behind his back.
"What?" His voice masked the emotions of the encounter behind a veneer of unflappable apathy, making it clear he wouldn't appreciate questions regarding what had transpired. At Solomon's silence subsequent this realization, the man waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, continue partying, go on. Forget about all that. Do I really need to tell you children what to do all the time?" He was already walking off as he said those words.
---
That whole incident aside, your spring has been productive in the usual fashion: you've figured out more of the Genesis Cube's functions, and are somewhat confident you could design and make a world of desired parameters within 80-90% accuracy with about 5-6 more actions sunk on Genesis, or slightly less of them (and with higher accuracy) if you sink some XP into Guide of Genesis, the new Technique you've acquired, described below.
You've acquired Technique: [Guide of Genesis], at Level 1. It costs 250 XP to raise to Level 2, and its cost doubles each Level.
The Magician is, inherently, a guide. They are also the connection between the Above and the Below. The Above crafts the Below, that it might reflect the light of the Above back upon it. Thus, should the Magician not have the power to create worlds? This Technique does precisely one thing: aids in the creation of worlds. Naturally, this also makes it easier to direct the formation of such worlds.
Credit: 5.2
XP: 3,860
Choose your actions for the summer.
As usual, nine (9) actions in total.
Here's a short list of potential options, but, as usual, feel free to write-in:
[ ] Classwork - Individualized by default. If you wish to spend XP, make sure to note what sort of abilities you're interested in.
[ ] Interaction - With someone you know or want to get to know.
[ ] Exploration - Of Fortuna and its myriad vistas.
[ ] Rule - Spend some time being a Sorcerer-King.
[ ] Genesis - Continue your experimentations, or decide on the shape of the world you want to create.
