Last Day Realizations

We had successfully made it to the last day of our journey and were climbing the carriage’s walls for freedom. A week of travel, being cooped up in a cozy compartment, sounded great for nobles and those who couldn't defend themselves. But, as for myself and the triop that travelled with me, we were looking for an escape. This had been the longest road trip we'd been on together yet, made even longer since we had nothing to do but sit around and wait.

“Are we there yet?” Sharzin groaned from her corner of the carriage.

“Don’t—” I cut her off, having heard the same question at least once an hour for the last three days. “Not—not again. Today—w-we should be there today.”

“Ugh! Why can’t we be there nooowwww?”

“You know, World Eighty-Two has these things called cars,” I explained, trying to distract the rogue from her boredom. “They go like ten or twenty times faster than this carriage, on average.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Aesandoral joined the conversation. “How do people hold on when going that fast?”

“You see, we have these little strips of fabric called seatbelts that hold us in place. And if we hit something, a pillowcase of air catches us—well...most of the time.”

At this explanation, the triop gave me their typical collection of curious looks. These were the expressions I had come to expect whenever detailing something from World Eighty-Two that stirred thoughtful questions.

“Cars—that’s a dumb name.” Rionriv huffed, looking outside at the guards that trotted beside atop their horses. “And people prefer those to horses?”

“I mean, yeah. Even if we had taken my Mozduh EX-5, we could have left Gildhaan and arrived at Bucharion’s Pass by lunch.”

"No way!" Aesandoral gasped as she leaned forward. "That's so fast! I can't believe it."

"Funny." Her sister continued without missing a beat. "I don't believe it. No way you have horseless carriages that fast."

"Believe it," I responded, pointing towards the roof. "In World Eighty-Two, we also have these things called airplanes that fly through the sky carrying hundreds of people across the world in hours. We could have flown from Al'magi to Bucharion's pass in under an hour."

This wowed them enough to begin an hour-long discussion about all things planes, trains, and automobiles from my home world. There were, of course, a lot of questions from Rionriv and Sharzin that I couldn't answer concerning aerodynamics and how things worked without magic. But I gave it my all to explain the concepts before revealing that a few of those vehicles were already present across Esseria. 

One such variant that we had already seen was the Anak’hati shimmer train, though its top speed was painfully slow when compared to a modern bullet train. I went on to detail how the Termine to the north had its secret storehouse of airships, which were slower than airplanes but faster than any current mode of transportation available today. Finally, I reminded them of my deal with Basil and how the Remnant at the heart of The Broken Shard Sea had a collection of cars that weren't too far off from the ones I had been explaining. Though the automobiles of Esseria were significantly more rugged, built more for monster encounters and bumpy roads than they were for highways and comfort.

Watching the girls light up at my explanation of the various vehicles that World Eighty-Two had, I made sure to make a mental note to ask Basil for a few extra motorcycles when I began asking for favours. The way Aesandoral lit up at the idea of two-wheeled mounts gave me visions of vapourwave music and the flash of street lamps as we raced down a coastal road just past sundown.

“And you’re wanting to make Tahvinstead like World Eighty-Two?” Aesandoral threw out after the conversation quieted down for a moment. “With all these strange contraptions?”

“Like World Eighty-Two?” I laughed at her question, shaking my head aggressively. “God no, I want to make it better. My world had plenty of great technologies, don't get me wrong, but they were beyond the reach of the average person. The power of a few outweighed the voices of the many and, as a result, people died regularly from things that could have been easily remedied. Food, water, shelter, and healthcare—all of these things were placed behind paywalls that were impossible to climb over. And, once you were in a tax bracket, it was damn near impossible to escape it.”

“It sounds a lot like here.” Rionriv scoffed from her corner of the carriage.

“Yeaaahh, sorry about that,” I replied with a sigh loud enough to catch their attention before looking out the window at the mountainous, old-growth forest we now travelled through. “I wrote a lot of my frustration with my world into this one as a way to help me cope."

Thoughts of past traumas flooded my mind. Memories of pouring my heart and soul into the pain that shaped Esseria after each argument with my parents. The cyclical apocalypses of this realm that marked the moments when I wished to kill myself were like a calendar of anguish. Things that I wished I hadn't done to the people of this world that I now hoped I could make up for in some way that was worthy of their forgiveness.

"The oligarchs of Ter’aquit, Bucharion’s Pass, Kaltoon, and Gildhaan are great examples of the greed that had its stranglehold on my world." I continued to explain. "While the nations of Anak’hati, Gulari, The Rolling King, and Felisidyll reveal my disappointment in how my old world's nations slipped backwards into authoritarian rule. Where war was rampant and preferable to caring for the people of your nation. A place where death and disease were nothing more than potential profit margins."

Reaching a hand to the window, I gently touched the glass as if to take hold of one of the ancient trees beyond. I thought of the summer heatwaves that cooked the pavement and dried the land enough to ensure rampant wildfires.

"My world was actively killing our planet for profit. The people, the animals, the earth. All of it, because we refused to agree on things, and whenever we began to, someone would pay bad-faith actors to lie and convince a third of the public that everything was fine. And that was all it took to halt any progress. Which, as you three know, basically sums up the history of Esseria. Every war has shaved away more and more of this world, leaving nothing but this single remaining continent in an endless sea. And now even this dying land is poised to tear itself to shreds.”

At this, I looked back at the group, meeting their disbelieving stares. As I locked eyes with their gazes, I couldn't help but wonder if they truly believed the things I said. I knew that if someone had approached me in university when I was Tahvin, I wouldn't have believed a word of it. In fact, I would have called them crazy and told them I wasn't interested in their religion before slamming the door in their face.

“What the fug is wrong with you?” Rionriv suddenly asked, her words shocking me out of my thoughts. “If your world was that bad, why not write comedies? I'm no bard, but wouldn't that have been better?”

“I—uh, I don’t like writing comedies?” I replied with a shrug as Rionriv slapped at my arm, sending a surge of electricity through me. “Aghhh! What was that for?! There’s nothing I can do about it now!”

“You can still make the world a better place.” She began to lecture me. “You don’t have to be god to change things. You said you wanted to make Tahvinstead—what was that word? Westerr—”

“Not a god,” I replied quickly. "And it's Westerriton."

“Yeah-yeah-whatever, that. So, why not make it even better and freely give people all the privileges you just complained your world never received? It's like you said, it's not as though our world has any of those good things either.”

The thoughts swirled around my mind as I envisioned what that could look like. What had been a dream of a doomsday bunker for a few people and me had slowly evolved into wanting to protect the people of Tahvinstead. For the two or three dozen souls living there, our group could probably achieve that. But now, the idea of doing even more for a city large enough to protect the people of this world? Needless to say, the concept became an exponentially tall order. Westerriton had been a metropolis of a million people living on the mountain itself and another million in the surrounding shanty town. It had been a logistical nightmare for them, and they couldn't even provide a semblance of what Rionriv was asking me to do.

“Th-the cost to feed th-that many people wou-would be—” I began to stammer, only to hear the tiny tongue click of the rogue silence me.

“Sure, sounds like oligarch speak,” Sharzin interrupted, crossing her arms in protest. "Who needs to be rich when you can help feed the world. Tell me, does your reality have a saying for ‘eat the rich’ as well?”

“Yeah? Actually, we just say that exact phrase.”

“Huh…” She paused, pondering my response for a moment before cocking her head to the side. “Were you just feeling lazy that day, author, orrr—”

“Hey, you’re outta line there.” I snapped, my pride wounded by her remark. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.”

There was a chorus of laughter from all of us at this as I playfully shied my face away from them. It felt strange to be so seen by them. To feel that they understood me. It lowered my guard and made me feel safe. Something I hadn't felt since Dierdra had passed. Since a time when I believed I deserved to be happy. It was a welcome feeling. A nice feeling. One that filled my heart just by seeing them laughing. Filled it in a way that I had never truly known possible. So, with a pleased sigh, I allowed the joy to continue for a while, and only once it naturally died down did I finally continue.

“But in all honesty," I eventually spoke up, eying everyone closely as the cart shifted and began up a particularly steep climb. "I do want Tahvinstead to be a safe place for everyone who comes to it. I'd love to provide affordable or even free food, water, shelter and, above all else, a healthcare system that values everyone. The coming war is going to displace a lot of people, and a lot of them will die if they don’t have a neutral place to flee to or adequate medical attention.”

“Well, that's good. At least your heart's in the right place with some things, lecher.” Rionriv answered, jabbing her finger into my shoulder. “So if we are trying to save Tahvinstead, why Bucharion’s Pass again? We’re on the opposite side of Ir’fornu.”

“The mines here provide plenty of precious ore and gemstones, some of which we'll need and the rest we can sell. If we can find a way to get a piece of one of those, particularly the one that I know will be successful, then we can passively gain an income that goes towards our future city.”

That was when the sound of a quiet grumble erupted from Sharzin, drawing my attention. Much like the first time I mentioned my plan, she grew uncomfortable, her posture giving away that she did not approve of the proposed scheme.

"Sharzin," I asked, much like I had the first time. "What's up?"

"It's nothing." She replied coldly to me. "Go on."

Yet, unlike that first encounter, I protested her response. Ever since that discussion, he had been colder towards me, and I had now begun to realize that it was because of whatever her feelings were concerning this mission.

"Nuh-uh!" I replied sharply. "You were quiet the last time we talked about this. Clamming up and then being standoffish towards me. I won't allow it this time. Speak your mind, Sharzin. I care what you have to say."

I watched as she hesitated, buying herself time as she stared out the window. Reaching up, she tucked a strand of black hair behind her alabaster ear before eventually turning her diamond gaze my way. Her face had become scrunched up as she struggled to find the words before finally, after a big sigh, blurted them out.

“You're being dumb, dummy!" Sharzin snapped, pointing at me with an accusatory finger. "And kinda hypocritical. Isn't your whole thing not directly interfering with the 'world' you built? That's the whole reason we couldn't see Power Word Thrill over the Winter Solstice, and why we couldn't take credit for stopping that giant statue at Fearnechella, right?. Isn't that also why we did the dungeon dive and then the mission in Tahvinstead?"

“I-I—” I stammered, thinking for a moment about her point. “You’re—”

"But now you want to dabble with DJ Demilich and become a partner in her mining business to gain passive funding? But by coming here and doing that, aren’t you going against your goals of not interfering with this world? You said that her group, which has been setting up the magosdromes, needed to rely on the mine for their own passive income. What if your plan inadvertently negates their gains? How would their making, say, thirty percent less, affect the end goal you set for them?”

Oh, shit. I thought as her words stunned me into silence, my scheme crumbling around me. Damn, she's right.

Quietly sitting in my seat, processing her claim, I thought about the money the Liberation Syndicate would gain from the Bucharion’s Pass mine. In the beginning, the returns from their mine were set to be small, just enough to pay their crew, but they would eventually pay for the top-tier upgrades to their ship, the Emerald Sabre. Because of what they got from the mine, they would become the fighting force capable of guiding an astral city, and a crucial part of the story, back to the Esserian plane from the edge of the cosmos. More than that, one day they'd also use the financial gains to have a relief concert to aid those displaced by the weapon of mass destruction detonated over Sutin'eli on Samhain.

“A lot,” I said the moment I realized the potential ripples that could happen by us being here. "It would change a lot."

“So why are we here again?” Sharzin asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "Dummy?"

“Well, shit, Zin,” I replied to this, rubbing the back of my head. “I wish you could have asked these questions, like, a week ago, before we got on this fuggin' wagon train.”