20 - Advent Rising (1)

Advent has been 'helping' us out for the past few days.

And already each of us has died more times than our combined total death count before her joining us.

Actually, we've all taken to wearing hockey pads and bicycle helmets whenever we're around her. (Alex has taken it a step further and actually goes around in a medieval suit of armor these days.)

But even this doesn't help protect us from the truly cosmically-absurd stuff. Like that one time, when we witnessed the thermodynamic miracle of all the air in our clubroom rushing into one stricly-defined half of the room, which suffocates Alex and me. (If I remember correctly, that one incident was caused by Advent sneezing.)

I mean, I understand 'clumsy == cute', but this is just plain ridiculous.

"It's my backstory," she says to me, shyly, one day. "Do you know why my name is 'Advent'? It's not my real name. It's just what the protagonist in my story calls me. … Actually, in the story, we never reveal my actual name. It's supposed to be a funny gag. Anyway, I'm an adventurer, a boukensha, you see. … Adventurer -> Advent. … Get it?"

Oh, that's right. I keep forgetting, but—she's from a different story entirely.

A fictional character. She's not real.

It's so easy to forget, because were it not for the whole foxgirl thing, and astronomically unlikely mishaps she causes, she's honestly just like us, the protags. The club members. Real human people—with souls.

… But she'll never be a protagonist.

And she has no soul.

She's just a side character, from another world, another story.

A creation of somebody's mind. Her entire existence is total artifice.

"… And as part of my backstory," she explains, "I was given a debuff that just completely decimates my luck stat. See, the main character's special skill is that he can see the odds. Probability. Chance. If you roll a die in front of him, and cover the results, he'll see it as 1/6. And if you flip a coin in front of him, it'll say 1/2 before you show the results. Those are all basic examples, obviously—everyone knows those odds without special powers. But the advantage of his skill is that, it will relay the true objective probability of something. So if you're rolling a loaded die in front of him, it'll show him the true odds of that loaded die. If it doesn't say 1/6, then he knows there's something fishy. It becomes a crucial plot element at one point. It's how he gets us out of the gambling den arc."

I stroke my chin. "Another cheat skill, huh … Okay, I kinda get it. But hey, wait—what if you guys end up at the end of a dungeon, and the loot goblin at the end makes you choose one of three chests, only one of which contains gold, and the two other are empty?"

"Well, then it'd be 1/3—"

"But when you pick a chest, he opens one of the empty chests, revealing nothing—and then he asks you if you'd like to change your decision? What would the two remaining chests say?"

"Ehh? I-I … I guess it would be … 1/2 each? W-Wait, but, no, hold on … When we picked the initial chest, it was a 1/3 chance … so the remaining odds would—er … No, wait …" Advent tries working out the probabilities in her head, her eyes turning into spirals, steam rising from her head.

"Heh heh heh," I chuckle smugly, "That's actually a very well-known problem everybody on Earth knows. Not because any of us could solve this on our own—in fact, people still debate the math behind this to this day, despite it being formally proven—but because we have this fancy thing called the internet which we use in place of our actual brains which delivers esoteric scientific or mathematical knowledge delivered in easy-to-consume 10-minute video essay packages. Who needs to think about things, when everything's already been thought-out for us!?"

Advent's eyes sparkle again. "Wow, Earth humans are amazing!" She then blushes. "… Actually—that's kind of the reason I asked Jessica if I can work for her."

"What do you mean?"

Advent then explains to me that she's something of an 'Earth otaku'.

You see, Reader—in the same way that Western anime fans become enamored with every little detail of Japanese culture, so too has Advent become obsessed with all things Earth.

… Which includes, of course, working a mundane, everyday 9-5 job as an OL.

Not that L.I.M.B.O. is really that close to working in an actual office environment, but I suppose for someone like Advent it's a close-enough facsimile.

"So, hey, wait," I say, "is that a big part of your story's plot? You learn about where your isekai protagonist came from, and then you develop an interest in his world or something?"

Advent tilts her head, her fox ears twitching. "Eh? No—No, I wasn't written with an Earth interest at all. I just became curious about your world on my own." She leans in close to me, her tail wagging. "… Is it true you guys have trains that wind through cities filled with massive, tall buildings made of steel and glass? And stores on every block that sell any kind of food you can imagine, which the store owner can warm up for you in seconds!? A-and entire buildings filled with those magic boxes like the one Alex has, where you can control different characters on the screens!?"

She gets really worked up thinking about this stuff. "… And even entire districts with shops where you can gamble with little tiny steel balls, and you can exchange your winnings for energy drinks and pocket tissues!"

"(Yes, those are the only prizes you can win at those places. Nothing else.)"

She places a hand on her cheek, looks the other way, face red. "… Along with other … adult entertainment." She looks at me, eyes wide. "Do you like adult entertainment, Odd-kun!?"

I'm sweating now. "I, uh—Yes, adult entertainment … I mean, I enjoy the occasional R*d Stew*rt or Ph*l C*llins song every now and then …"

"Did you work in an office, Odd-kun?"

"Yes, I did!"

"So you got paid to sit at a screen, and press a funny-looking slab with weird runes on it, and they go clickety-clack."

"Y-yes, keyboards … (It's interesting that you describe them like that, given that the goddesses use them all the time … You're laying on the whimsy a bit thick, Advent-chan …)"

"Did you guys have to get firearm training, too?? Oooh, what kind of gun did you get?"

"Eh? N-no … Guns were not part of everyday business procedure. Where did you even hear that from?"

"Well, I've heard the terms 'corporate espionage' and 'cutthroat business' used before …" Her ears perk up. "Wait, so if you didn't use guns, did you use knives instead??? That's so cool!"

"No, no—you don't understand. There was no violence at all. (Well, except for those bad days when I'd go into the bathroom and punch the towel dispenser until my fist bled …)"

"Was office work as fun as it seems? Photocopiers! Fax machines! Water coolers! Refilling the coffee machine when you pour out the last of the pot!?"

I scratch the side of my face. "Honestly? No. It was pretty terrible. There was always a constant pressure to keep doing more all the time, with fewer people each year. We had to work weekends, and stay late all the time. They called it crunch. Some of it was paid, most of it wasn't. But we had to, or they'd fire us. I didn't really like my co-workers, and a lot of them would dump their work on me. The problems you solve weren't that difficult but there were so many of them that they just keep piling on every day, and you couldn't afford to ever stop. So your brain was just constantly working to solve mid-level problems until you could barely even think anymore, and when you got home your mind was just numb. You were tired without ever properly physically using your body, which was just an awful feeling. … But hey, they let us dress in a t-shirt and shorts on Fridays, so that makes up for everything. (Not.) … Yeah, it's no wonder I died at my desk after all that."

"You … what?"

I shrug. "Yeah. I mean, it's not a big deal. It's not even that surprising. I had stayed up for like, four days by that point."

Advent starts tearing up, her lip trembling. "Odd-kun … I didn't know …"

Aw, crap. Looks like I just shattered her romantic illusions of what an office job was really like. I try to backpedal a bit. "H-hey! That was just my job. I'm sure there are corporate jobs out there that aren't entirely soul-sucking … Maybe … Perchance …"

By the time Advent stops crying, the conversation has basically petered out, and we look around us.

We seem to be in some kind of white void.

"… Where the hell are we?" I ask.