Chapter 27: Ch 27 - Where are the Tortures?

That night, Marke found that his name tag glowed like a flashlight. “This sucks. Now we know why having experience is risky.” Marke said.

“Still, those ‘snatchers’ must have ludicrous amounts of experience to glow as bright as they do. Is that because they are higher level or because they never spend their experience?” Kente wondered.

Marke tried to tuck himself further under a loose tent flap to hide the light. Laying on his chest didn’t help block the glow as much as he thought it should, and he hadn’t found a nearby broken ride to climb into. In the end, no one bothered him that night. He woke early and continued walking towards the giant tents he had seen before. Marke sold the memory of taking his shirt of with a broken shoulder for ninety five tickets and rode fair rides until he couldn’t stand it anymore. The rides that were best for experience were the worst for having a good time, and Marke couldn’t force himself to get as nauseous as he had the other day. Marke didn’t manage to sleep that night because his name tag was bright enough that people were eyeing him as soon as the sun began to set. He kept his eyes open and hid between various tents and rides, moving from time to time to avoid anyone stalking him. As soon as the sun was up and his name tag looked ordinary again, he crawled into a rolled up tent and fell asleep.

Kente woke Marke up before he felt fully rested “Rise and shine, bucko!” Kente said.

“Don’t call me bucko, bucko.” Marke grumbled.

“Step right up!” Kente teased.

Marke groaned and wiggled out of the rolled up tent. He rubbed his eyes and joined the flow of the crowd. Kente updated him on the ‘Experience’ line on his character sheet.

NAME: Priority Three Priority Four LEVEL: 3 EXPERIENCE: 245/300 TICKETS: 46

With a sigh, Marke wandered up to the next ride without looking too closely at it.

“Minimum level ten for this ride. Get out of here.” The worker shoved Marke to the side so the next person could step up.

“A new injustice and surprise rule everyday in this place.” Kente grumbled. “The angels should have ponied up more funding to sway how things work.”

Marke stopped walking. A seal person bumped into him immediately and knocked him to the ground. Marke scuttled out of the way and waved off the minor apology of the seal person. Marke’s brows furrowed as he fixated on a thought.

“What is it?” Kente asked.

“Where are the tortures?” Marke asked. “The banner in the starting cave mentioned tortures. Both banners mentioned it. Where and what are the tortures?”

Kente was silent for a minute. “Maybe the blood soda is a torture?” He suggested.

Marke shook his head. “It’s terrible, but the banner said something… ‘Please try as many tortures as possible’ or something like that. ’Your feedback is important to us” I think it said.” Marke said.

“Maybe selling memories is the feedback, but they can’t want ten million memories of people drinking blood soda or getting dizzy on rides.” Kente said.

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Marke didn’t know what else to say, so he went back to finding a ride. They had apparently moved into a different layer of the fair, because he wasn’t qualified for any of the rides nearby. Marke turned and walked back to areas that accepted someone of level 3.

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Marke stepped up to the level buying kiosk and slapped his name tag down without hesitation. The name tag shifted to show one option.

Level 4

Marke tapped the single option, then placed his name tag back on his chest and strode confidently away. He noticed a few people out of the corner of his eye who lost interest in him once his name tag was secure. I forgot about selling game prizes! Marke thought. Oh well. Kente thought back. The goal is level 5, not better keychains. A different fair worker found him that day and led him to the nearest management tent. He passed the audit again without gaining any new information.

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A full week passed before Marke reached level 5. He had to skip a day because he ran out of tickets–the memory of waking up in the wooden cart after Kente’s genesis in the shadow sea was only worth 15 tickets for some reason the booth worker couldn’t explain. On the last night before reaching level 5, Marke led several large creature people on a chase through the psychedelic disco nighttime fair. He couldn’t quite see what kind of creatures they were, but they were loud. Marke lost them after he crashed through a group of other people with glowing name tags. A brawl erupted behind Marke as he sped away.

When he stepped up to the level buying kiosk again, Marke had a burly looking antelope woman standing at his back. The antelope woman had agreed to glare at everyone in the crowd in exchange for all of Marke’s remaining tickets–all 50 of them. Marke’s name tag shifted to show three options.

Level 5 Customize Stats Torture (Worth 1000 Tickets)

Marke was surprised by the options, but tapped the level-up and replaced his name tag. He turned around to see the antelope woman in a glaring contest with a squat mouse person with an incredible hat. Marke checked the rest of the crowd, but didn’t find anyone taking an interest. He stepped up next to the antelope woman and joined the glaring contest. The mouse’s nose twitched. I’m gonna risk death by squid man. Marke warned Kente. He scanned the mouse person’s name tag to get their level. The text shifted to say ‘Level 1’. The mouse slapped a hand over their name tag and scurried away. Marke laughed, a little confused.

“Level one? What did they think to accomplish?” Marke asked the antelope woman as he pulled out his tickets.

“Don’t scan people’s levels, man.” The antelope person gave Marke a disgusted look as she took his tickets.

“What? Why?” Marke asked.

“All we have is names and levels and no privacy. Let people keep this one thing.” The antelope woman turned away.

“Uh, wait.” Marke said, stepping up next to the woman. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be… crass or whatever. Level isn’t the only thing in the name tag, so I didn’t realize it was so rude to look.”

The antelope woman looked a bit uncertain, but gave into curiosity. “What do you mean? What else is there?” She asked.

Should we ask for payment? Kente asked.

No. We are making up a social credit debt. Marke answered. “It tracks your experience, your tickets, your death count, and your stats. That’s all I’ve found so far.”

“How do you know that?” The antelope didn’t look convinced.

“I, uh…” Marke didn’t know the right way to answer. This didn’t come up as naturally as it had with the buffalo person. “I can read it in a… mental area I have. I don’t know if you can make it show up on the physical card.” Marke looked down at his own name tag. “Sorry, that’s probably not very convincing. Anyway, I apologize for being so rude.” Marke was about to turn away, but the antelope woman grabbed his shoulder.

“Mental area? Do you get there by meditation?” She asked, rather intently.

“Yes.” Marke said, slightly wary of her intensity.

“I overheard someone else saying something similar a few days ago. Did you learn this from a buffalo?” She asked.

“I- yes. Well, no.” Marke stuttered. “It’s probably not the same one, but I did talk about this with a buffalo maybe ten days ago. My way won’t work for other people, but I suggested meditation.”

“Teach me.” The antelope woman demanded. She pulled out Marke’s tickets, then added two stacks of one hundred each and held it out to him. Marke’s eyes bulged in astonishment and desperate greed.

“Agreed!” Marke said and snatched the tickets. “You know a safe spot to talk?” He asked. The antelope nodded and led him away.