Defeat does not exist for me. Not while the enemy draws breath. Not while the will of the gods go unfulfilled. --59.4 Seconds Post-Integration.
The 'index cards,' as Theo called them, were a search engine of sorts. They were in a metal cabinet and packed tightly together. There must've been thousands of the cards.
Theo explained to him the ins and outs of the library. "First thing to know about the library, is that in the basement, there are no aides. The basement is reference material. Non-corporate related stuff, you know. As such, it isn't well looked after. I don't know why they even keep it around, but it's here, so no use in asking questions. Corporate isn't going to waste money on non-corporate knowledge, so we need to do everything ourselves. Start looking by finding the first letter of your topic. You're looking for 'dwarves,' right? So, 'de' is what you're going to be looking for..."
"Okay, I think I got it..." Clark shuffled his finger along the edges of the many cards, looking for the 'Ds.' He found it minutes later, and 'dwarves,' as a topic category not long after. "Hey. I found one! And another!"
"See? It's easy when you know what you're doing. Now, write down the information on the cards, and that location number there, and you can find them in the stacks -- remember to put the index cards back, okay?"
Clark did as he was told. Theo next took him back into the aisles and taught him how to follow the numbers glued onto each book to find the book he needed. "Just match the numbers up. If some numbers match, but not all of them, that means you're getting close. Be systematic. Focus on the numbers."
He did as Theo instructed. The difference was day and night. By the end of the hour, he had nearly five books on dwarves.
"How do you know all this?" he asked Theo, taking a seat at one of the cozy desks in the study rooms at the edge of the main chamber.
"I needed to know. I don't have a social media account, so I needed an alternate way to access information. There's informational gold in these books, Clark, if you only know where to look." Theo sat opposite him at their lonely desk; their study room's light the only light in an otherwise darkened section.
"About your... plan?" Clark tried to be coy.
"About my intent to take back what is mine? Yes." Theo, evidently, did not care for being coy.
"How did books factor? Not to be rude, but it didn't seem like you made any progress on that front until you met me, and I brought you into the dungeon's interior..."
"It was the information brokers. Before you and I raided that interior, I had to find information on where such relics could be, which meant I had to search for who would know such things. I found my answer in a book. An old book -- maybe forty years -- written by a scholar. He had been researching the 'attitudes and prejudices among the working classes.' A chapter mentioned how the laboring masses spent their free time. There was a mention of information brokers when he talked about how workers 'got ahead' of the corporate agenda by turning a side-hustle into their main hustle, but with the company." Theo explained and Clark found himself impressed. Would he have ever thought to look in a book when he was a stranger in a strange land? Based on the fact SIMP had to tell him to search for the library, he did not figure he would! Of course, he reminded himself. 'Libraries' were not a thing back in the Wastes.
"That's all impressive, Theo. Truly. You're smarter than me in that regard, for sure."
"Actually, I am probably smarter than you in general!" Theo grinned, then winked, letting him know that he was joking. "My clan does place a high priority on study, though. I am familiar with how this stuff goes. You know way more about this dungeon stuff than me. Different intelligence strokes for different folks!"
He and Theo continued to shoot the shet for a while. They talked about nothing important, though he did learn more about Theo's culture.
"I think it's time to call it good. You look positively wiped, man. Plus, we have work tomorrow!" Theo told him after an hour, stretching and yawning.
"Yeah... guess we do... I am tempted to take it off and use up some of that free PTO I got from being a Lifer. We are getting so close to ranking up, though, I can feel it! I want to get into these books, though..."
"Oh, speaking of, you will need to check those out. I can help with that!"
The process for checking out the books was simple. With Theo's help, anyway. An aide on the upper floors scanned his books, stamped them, then handed them back. "You have a couple of weeks, plus a third week offered to your status," the aide spoke but verbally squinted at that last bit, about his 'status.' She seemed confused about why he was getting an extra week; she read closely from a computer screen, so Clark assumed it was something the computer had been telling her to say. "Renewal is easy," she continued. "You can renew in person or online. Any questions?"
"Nope! Thanks for your help!" Theo said on his behalf.
Clark smiled extra warmly, his way of saying 'sorry,' for acting like an entitled turd earlier, then left, lock-and-step behind Theo.
"Let me know if you find anything neat in those books!" Theo spoke while gazing at the books underneath his arms. "And the online renewal bit? Just ask SIMP to take you to the page. Super easy. Till tomorrow, bud!"
Clark returned to his room tired but happy. He had done what he needed to do -- obtain a library card and find some books on dwarves.
Now, he could read. "Easier said than done," he lamented, feeling the weight of his eyelids. "I gotta do something tonight, though."
He looked at the library books upon his desk:
Dwarves and You: A Basic Social Guide by Ear Manny
History of the Dwarven People: The Facts by the Augustford Institute
How Can They Do It? Dwarves and their Engineering by Finley Fromage
The Sociopolitical Idea of Dwarf Power by Jessica Leggings
Creatures Far and Wide, Big and Small: The Dwarven Biome by University Contributors.
The books he checked out looked great. Theo helped him pick them out based on 'buzzwords.' Words which, in an academic context, better oriented people toward the content of that particular book.
"Guess I will give each a skim..."
Clark found each book difficult in their own way. Some had too much jargon for his tastes while others had so much information, in such tiny text, it gave him a headache. He settled on the book by Ear Manny, Dwarves and You: A Basic Social Guide.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He read the first bit:
"What is a dwarf? A man, a machine? Truth is they are a bit of both. This might shock some people with more 'biological' sensitivities. Yet it is the truth as much as I am a man. This book will teach you the basics of the dwarf, inside, and out."
Good, good! Clark yawned. Finally getting somewhere!
"Wake up, Clark! Wake up!"
He slowly opened his eyes. When had he fallen asleep?!
"What time is it?"
SIMP replied in their typical tone: "Almost time for work." He figured the Spiritual Consciousness would berate him for nearly missing his shift, but they instead made pleasantries. "How are the books?"
"Fine," he replied, changing into his work clothes and applying some deodorant. "They're hard to read. I will get better at reading them, obviously, but it is going to be super slow for the next bit. I wish I had the opportunity to take classes like Theo."
"Then you are in luck -- Augustford offers social betterment classes on a variety of subjects. You should be able to take a number of them for free since you are a Lifer."
"That's good to know. Do they have one on reading comprehension? Or reading in general?"
"Let me look..." as SIMP searched, his System Link made a number of noises which sounded like beeping, with both high and low tones. "Yes. There is a class called 'Basic Literacy and Beyond.' There is a session tonight. Would you like me to reserve a seat for you?"
He thought it over. Did he really want to add to his plate of commitments? He had work, then 'volunteering' at on-Augustford businesses -- 'moonlighting' as someone had called it -- as well as his dungeon champion responsibilities which, lately, had taken on a dwarven litany of reading material. "But the classes will help with the reading material!" he argued. "But think of how tired you will be when you're done a shift, and you have to go to class!" he countered.
"I will do it," he said to SIMP with a sigh, hoping he was not getting himself into something with more heft than he could chew.
With morning pleasantries out of the way -- SIMP informing him they would need more time yet to crack the deeper mysteries of the dwarven pod's hardware -- he got himself off to work.
Work was brutal.
The sale's event from before, where the store was discounting certain canned goods at an outrageous mark-off, had ended, but certain products remained popular, their selling power bolstered by misleading social media content which claimed that 'some items' remained on sale. This wasn't true, of course. Nothing remained on 'sale' once a major sale ended -- that wasn't how the store worked. Still, it did not stop people from demanding sale prices; his work for the day, then, consisted mostly of staying on the same floor helping customers find the 'sale item' they wanted, then calmly explaining to them that their precious item was no longer on sale. The affair was an exercise in running his patience.
"Wanna hang out?" Theo again asked when they clocked out.
"Sorry, I can't, I have class!"
"Class? What do you mean?"
Clark explained to him about the self-improvement classes.
"Oh, those!" Theo finally caught on. "Best of luck! I hear they can be hard!"
Clark didn't know whether he should be happy or bemused at Theo's comment. He wanted to improve himself, sure, but did he want a difficult time of it? He didn't want an obligation that wearied him to his core... right? Knowing he didn't have a choice, he left for his class.
SIMP led him to where the class was held. It was in the basement part of Augustford Central, but not the basement area he had already visited upon his disaster of an orientation. The classroom was non-descript; white walls, florescent lighting, and plain desks made from questionable materials defined the style. People filled the room completely and so he had to shove his way through the scant spaces between the desks. None of the people sitting seemed like Augustford employees. This confused him -- why would people not employed with the store pay money to take the class?
Sitting, he barely saw the front because of the many people taller than him sitting ahead. If he was worried about not being able to see the teacher, his worry was assuaged when the teacher entered the room. "Attention!" she yelled, wearing a sharp, red uniform. "My name is Mrs. Bull. I will be your teacher for this class." Mrs. Bull walked over to the desk in the far-left corner of the room. She put away her personal effects and took off her leather coat. "Thank you for the silence. It showed you are paying attention. It shows you are taking my class seriously. This is good. Because you will need to take it seriously if you wish to 'super-pass' and earn that record on your mark. That is neither here nor there. For now, take out your notebooks and a writing utensil, and let's begin."
The first class was nothing serious. Mrs. Bull simply went over her expectations for the term and the projects which the students would be expected to do ("Students," she said early on. "By the end of this course, you're reading and writing skills will increase several times over -- if you stick to my lessons"). To her expectations, were many exceptions ("As I said, this course will demand your attention in full. You will be expected to come to class every scheduled day. Excuses will not be tolerated! Provided, there are many situations in our modern world, where perhaps some leniency is needed? I see a couple of faces here which are surely Augustford workers, yes? It should be said, our esteem to Augustford must be given, considering, it is only by their hand that I am allowed to Better you, yes?"). By the time Mrs. Bull finished lecturing on class expectations, there was a brief fifteen minute break before the second half of the class started.
The class's second half was hands-on.
Back at the front, Mrs. Bull slapped her ruler on the blackboard. "Class," she began. "It is time for our first practical exercise. I will split you into groups. Your assignment will be this: everyone in the group is to read a short passage. As you read aloud, you will be timed by another group member. Once each group acquires every member's time, will then perform elementary mathematics to find the average time of the group; if you do not know how to find the average, or the 'mean,' I will teach you presently." Mrs. Bull gave a curt lecture on how to find the average of an equation then divided us into groups as she promised. Clark found himself with a portly number of classmates who he could tell where from the Civic Meterople. She smelled nice, cologne, perfume?
His group worked diligently to find their average.
The passage was a simple selection of no importance taken from an irrelevant book: his own time was on the slow side of fast; he thought he did well, but his classmates outperformed him by a wide metric. "You guys did really well. This must not be your first class?" before they could reply, the teacher came around to collect their results. One of the older, portly man said to him, "Oh, no, not by a longshot, lad. This is just a formality class I need to do before I can move on to the specialized course I need for my career-to-be." To that, a number of other people in his group muttered, "Same."
"Okay, now that we have each group's average, talk it out. Why did the results be what they were?"
Each group took its time to explain why their average was skewered -- unsurprisingly, his slow times had been why his own group scored lower compared to the other groups. He was an 'outlier.'
Many of the student groups had an outlier or two which hit their average scores.
"Yes, it sucks being an outlier," Mrs. Bull said. "But that is the point of this lesson. We will be doing this assignment once per class after normal lessons. Each time, you will be divided into the same group -- so take care to get to know your mates face now -- and record each member's time, then the average of the group. At the end of the term, we will then compile an overall average. This will give you a sharp sense of how much you have grown as a student over the course of my class." Homework was reading a passage or writing a passage. He chose reading as his homework, as that was the skill he had most use for at the moment, not writing, per se, though he conceded it would be a considerable skill to curate.
The next few classes were the same.
A lecture in the first half of the class. Then the group reading assignment during the hands-on portion later.
Every time he sat to do his homework -- reading a passage given to them by Mrs. Bull -- he saw the passage grow in difficulty.
He persevered, though. He sounded out the hard words and tackled each sentence like it was a personal challenge to his esteem. If he had questions, he (with great hardship) wrote down his questions to ask the teacher the next day. As the first week ended and the second week began, Clark's reading skills grew. In the evenings after class, when he tried to read a passage from the more difficult books he obtained on Dwarves, he found his hardship lessened. Just so but lessened all the same.
Getting into the flow of class and improving his academics, Clark thought his time as an Augustford Lifer, although complicated by his role as dungeon champion, was returning to some sense of normality. He thought his actions at the Guild and the Scheduling Center, and the library hadn't been noticed by the store; or not noticed to the degree that SIMP believed, at least. His dreams otherwise were shattered upon clocking into work one day near the very end of his first month on the job.
"Cola Clark?" a man said wearing a sleek black and white suit. Who was this man? Why was he talking to him? Paranoia wrecked him for a moment. Had the store uncovered evidence of how he helped Theo and Hera? Was this it -- was he getting super-fired?
"Yes. Clark... why? With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" he spoke, teeth clattering, which he desperately attempted to rein in.
"Mister Clark. My name is Adam. Adam White. Please follow me. I need a moment of your time to talk to you about your commitment to Augustford."
that any better?
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