16. Vesper #3
In fact, Cipher has outright refused to give us any information about Glitch options when we ask, claiming it goes against his coding.
It’s the same reason he has purposely avoided answering questions about the Harrow, Luxe, and Dross.
Whatever coding he has is limiting, though it feels like he resents that fact.
A machine harboring resentment should be impossible, but so should most of the other shit in the Harrow we’ve stumbled across so far.
Locke shrugs. “I know I’m going to pick the most badass one,” he says.
“The strongest one I can find. That’s what will get me through this place.
If I’m strong as fuck, I’ll be able to pummel those bastards at the top, do the most damage.
” He grins at me. “When I fuck them all up, I’m going to find a way to let everyone into Luxe, not just those risking the Harrow. ”
It’s an admirable dream, even if I’m not certain it’s possible. Even the Luxe Guards have to go through the Harrow to reach Dross. From my understanding, there’s no other way.
I raise my brow at his words. “It’s probably better to choose something more strategic, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Locke says, deadpan. “I’ll be strategically strong and a badass.”
Clearly, Locke and I have a difference of opinion when it comes to Glitches.
I know nothing about them. I don’t know what sort of Glitches there are, how many, or even if there are ones that makes sense.
The Ascendant Guards who show up to Dross aren’t exactly showing off their powers while they’re there, but there were a few I’ve seen who had strange features, like slitted eyes or scaly skin.
Most of them are otherworldly pretty, insultingly so even.
It’s unnerving to see how flawless many of them are contrasted against the grime of Dross.
Of course, that flawlessness comes with some monstrosity that hides just beneath the surface on some, and is blatant on others.
Ascendants hardly feel human by the time they make it to Dross again, as if the Harrow changed them into something new. Something other.
Cipher remains quiet during our conversation, but I can feel his disapproval through the weird connection we share. It’s like he’s waiting on me to tell Locke his idea is stupid.
“It is not a weird connection,” Cipher says. “It is science. The implant in your forearm allows a limited neurological link. We can converse and I can hear your thoughts unless I am blocked, but I cannot see your memories.”
I snort. “You keep saying I can block you and yet you never say how.”
“It benefits neither of us for you to block your thoughts from me, Vespera. I am an asset.”
“An asset,” I repeat, shaking my head. “More like an annoyance.”
“And yet, you still speak to me,” he points out.
He’s not wrong. Some part of me does enjoy talking to Cipher, even if he’s also incredibly frustrating.
“See,” he says. “There is a thin line between love and hate as the humans say.”
“I neither love nor hate you,” I point out.
He chuckles. “You will.”
“Which one?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes. Cipher can be annoying and dramatic, but he’s right. He’s necessary to our travels here, and for some reason, he’s chosen to speak to me like this rather than Locke. I shouldn’t waste the opportunity.
“Hey, Cipher?” I ask suddenly, frowning.
“Yes, Vespera?”
“I know you don’t talk to Locke like this, but do you talk to other players as much as you talk to me?”
He falls silent, as if contemplating my question. “Would you like a measurable statistic, or human reassurance?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Statistically, I have talked to players as much as I speak to you point zero-zero-three percent of the time. My conversations vary for the rest of the players, and the largest percent by far is those like Locke, players I only speak to at the beginning and never again.” He takes a breath.
“As for human reassurance, I speak to you because I enjoy you. There are not many players I can comment the same.”
“Oh,” I say, suddenly flustered. I don’t know which answer I was looking for, but both make me feel .
. . better. I hadn’t even realized I’d been dreading his answer, that part of me was thinking that he must talk like this to every player that isn’t Locke.
At his admission, I can’t seem to find any other words.
Do I say thank you? Do I nod like it was expected?
Do I tell him I enjoy him, too? Cipher is a machine.
In theory, he shouldn’t feel at all. He shouldn’t be able to pick out a player he likes.
Right? I have limited knowledge of machines, but Cipher seems far more advanced than anything I’ve seen even within the Harrow.
“That is because I am,” he interrupts my thoughts.
“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” I scowl while tromping after Locke. “My thoughts should be private.”
“Learn how to shut me out then,” Cipher goads. “I bet you can do it if you try really hard.”
I determine that I’m going to do just that.
It’s ridiculous that he can hear my every thought and I need some thoughts to at least be to myself.
How long before I think something that I don’t want the system to know?
How long before I have thoughts I’d like to keep private?
My mind starts to trail to those exact type of thoughts and I clamp down on them, immediately redirecting.
Cipher chuckles, but he doesn’t say anything about the flash of naked flesh I’d thought about. Asshole.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask Locke as he leads the way.
“I don’t know exactly,” he says, opening his map again.
“It says there could be a Minor Boss somewhere in this section. It doesn’t tell me what it is or where it is, or else I’d have some sense of direction.
I have a feeling it’s by that line, like I said, so I’m just kind of heading toward that.
Once there, I guess we just walk around until we .
. . stumble across it.” He throws his hands up.
“I don’t know, man. Unless you have a better idea, this is what we’re doing.
We have ‘til midday, like you said, and then we head to the safehouse.”
“I’m not giving you shit,” I argue. “I’m just asking.”
“We need XP,” he says, “and Minor Bosses give us more than fighting the plant life does. I literally got a single XP from fighting that Giant Venus Fly Trap an hour ago. One! I think that bastard is fucking with me.”
Cipher’s warm laughter fills my ears. “He’s lucky he got one.”
“I swear,” Locke continues. “You could take a shit and get five XP. I fight a giant man-eating plant and I get one. I never realized the fucking Harrow would play favorites.” He narrows his eyes on me. “That asshole is laughing at me, isn’t he?”
A menu pops up in front of me and I stumble, blinking at the words.
ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED
Congratulations, pretty girl. You’re still breathing.
REWARD: 3XP
I choke on the laughter bubbling up my throat. “Uh . . . Locke?”
“What?” he asks, scowl deepening. “What did he do?”
“I just got three XP,” I croak, trying so hard not to lose myself to laughter completely. The snort slips out a second before I can stop it and my eyes water with the force of my laughter.
“For what?” he spits. “Don’t tell me you took a shit?” His eyes drop down and I can’t hold back the laughter anymore. It pours out of me and makes it hard to breathe. Ironic.
“No,” I say through my laughter. “Three XP for breathing.”
“Motherfucker,” Locke snarls. He points at the sky like that’s where Cipher is. “You’re a motherfucker, Cipher. I swear to the Harrow, if you had a face, I’d fucking punch you in it.”
“I would let you try,” Cipher pipes up, also laughing as he speaks to both of us for once.
Locke grumbles under his breath and starts stomping through the forest again. My lips stay curled in a smile as I follow, my chest throbbing with amusement.
We move in silence for another hour, cutting through the foliage and doing our best to avoid the carnivorous plants.
We really only succeed in wearing ourselves out.
I’m still not certain we’re working at full capacity after the Killing Trees incident and we haven’t eaten since the AppleFrog’s.
I don’t know how long we can trek through the forest like this before we run out of steam, but I’m drenched in sweat by the time we stumble through the trees and find a large rushing river.
“The River,” Locke reads from his map, frowning. “It didn’t have a name before, but it does now.”
“A real river,” I repeat. There are no rivers in Dross.
What water we have comes from our decaying water collection system.
Someone once tried to explain it to me, something about condensation and moisture, but I didn’t follow.
I know it’s a system that will fail at some point and then Dross will be in danger of extinction if some other source of water isn’t found.
But here in the Harrow, there’s a whole, massive river.
It’s so large, that the bank on the other side of it is small.
The water itself is brown, so it doesn’t exactly look safe to drink, but I’m thirsty, it’s hot, and I haven’t had a drink since we left the AppleFrog’s. It can’t hurt just to test it and see if it’s okay.
I kneel down beside the river and peer deeply into the water. When nothing moves immediately, I lean forward.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Locke says.
“It’s just water,” I say, dipping my hands in and scooping up a handful. I take a careful sip and sigh. It’s cold and perfect and so refreshing after being so hot, that I down the rest in my hands and reach for more.
“Yeah,” Locke agrees. “But what’s in it?”
A trumpet sounds so loud and suddenly, I fall backward onto my ass in surprise. My eyes widen as the notification pops up in front of my face and I read the first few words before Cipher’s sexy voice starts to read it.
BOSS BATTLE INITIATED: THE LIVING FOSSILE