“The rest of the day was quite easy.

  I did all the jobs on my list

  And enjoyed them and had some time over…

  I love you. I’m glad I exist.”

  — WENDY COPE (“The Orange”)

  //Codex Tag

  function, inscribeAnnotation008 (content=

  /* A poem about how completing ordinary tasks and persistence are necessary parts of life. Did you know that Seville oranges are almost too bitter to eat raw? Grown almost exclusively for marmalade, they exist only to be boiled down with sugar until their harshness becomes something sweet enough to spread. Appropriate, isn’t it? Some people are like that too. Bitter by nature. Useful only once the world has burned them down to something palatable. */

  codex.updateEntry(“Slice of Ordinary | Even innocuous acts can carry hidden meanings; oranges, lessons, and jokes all bind us to life’s quiet truths.");

  }

  Bits of ash and shredded paper still hung in the air; the Papyropede’s carcass, looking like a crumpled assignment, twitched on the ground. Desks upended, and a pool of ink, so black it read as blood, drifted across the tiles.

  Remi’s screen exploded with notifications.

  [New Achievement - Remi Crosses the Rub(r)icon]

  When Caesar told the Senate to stick it where the sun doesn’t hit the toga, it was a surprise. You made it out of that fight? Equally shocking. You’ve crossed your own Rub(r)icon now, and there’s no going back, only forward, into whatever empire you think you’re building.

  Reward: You’ve received a Mundane Crate of Bakin’ Bits

  Without prompting, it opened to reveal two items: a holographic version of his meter stick and a bag of what appeared to be dust. As Remi picked up each one and examined them, the following information appeared.

  Scratched Meter Stick

  Type: Cosmetic Curio

  Effect: +15% durability to all stick-class weapons.

  Description: A meter stick, edge cracked, ink-smudged, and lined with hairline scratches. Every mark tells the story of your first stand. It's important to mark our milestones, as they have marked you.

  The holographic disappeared. The second item, upon inspection revealed:

  Residual Dust

  Type: Alchemical Component

  Rarity: Wouldn’t you like to know?

  Description: A small amount of pale dust gathered from the ash of a defeated foe. Conveniently placed in a bag. You’re welcome.

  Remi weighed the pouch. He could leave it; however, that would be stupid. Hopefully, this story would come with limited MacGuffins. He gently prodded the powder with his finger, and it clung to his fingertips longer than it should. When held in the light, faint symbols flicker along its length. He stuck the bag in his pocket. Exhausted, he just needed a minute. He collapsed onto his chair, Hazardfax. He patted it. Thanks.

  SLAM! The door behind Remi vibrated.

  A new but strangely familiar voice echoed around the classroom. “Sorry to bug you, my melancholy Dane, but I honestly figured that grub was going to make you its grub.”

  Remi turned to find its source and saw a pale shifting hologram, composed of light trying to craft itself into the shape of a man. He was both translucent and solid, shifting slightly between opacities as he moved. The neon blue hue that made up his form felt like the glow of a downtown market sign, one intended to both draw attention and blend in with the environment.

  “I’m glad to see that you've already taken your seat because it’s time for class to begin,” said Archie.

  Archie looked mildly impressed. “I’m still gobsmacked that you did that. It wasn't pretty, but it was entertaining.” The holographic projection of Archie stood before Remi, a wavering construct of cold light and shifting code. Its form mimicked a human silhouette but never settled into one face, pixels blooming and erasing like static caught in a wind. Thin lines of script ran across his chest and arms, fragments of language and data looping endlessly, giving the impression that he was built not from flesh or metal, but from narrative itself.

  His eyes flashed as if he were getting a notification behind his holographic eyes. “You even got a reader comment. Congrats! I think you’re the first to get one of those.” It felt like the system was about to stop things.

  [System Mes–]

  He waved as if he were shooing away an annoying bug. We can’t have that interrupt the flow. He mumbled to himself. “Some are narratively needed; keep those. Readers never thought… Oversight. We stick that in the marginalia at the bottom. For you to find later. If that ability gets unlocked.” Satisfied. He continued.

  “The Crucible and all its representatives would like to apologize for any inconvenience and/or paper cuts you may have received during your baseline battle.” His smile was wry; he knew he was pushing it. Archie continued, “Think of that fight as a system calibration. We needed to see what you would do to fine-tune your archetype choice and progression. That’s important, but more important is your personal mental reconciliation. You needed to understand. All of you who show up here look like deer in headlights. Clichéd, but metaphorically accurate. A deer doesn't know what a car is, what it does, or even how it works. They certainly don’t know to fear it. That’s of course until they get hit by one. Remi, you and everyone in here, have been in an orchestrated accident, and so now you understand the car. Simply stated, you've finally been physically and literally impacted by the story. It was necessary, but the system understands it was likely difficult. Like deer, some of you'll survive this initial impact. Way to go, Bambie! Others…” He paused for a bit. “Not so much. Now sit back for a minute, take a well-deserved breather, and lets you and I can have a little chat.”

  Remi didn't feel much like chatting. He wasn’t sure what he needed to do next, and so this could at least allow him to gather his thoughts.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “So here’s how this works: you don’t have to understand everything yet. You don’t even have to trust me. You just need to stay in the scene. That’s all. Would you prefer I sit?” Archie didn’t wait for a response, instead annoyingly dragging a chair, scraping it across the floor. He interloped, supplanting Remi’s rightful place behind the teacher’s desk. He didn’t ask, just sat, like the spot had always been his. Remi Page was now left in the student seat.

  Archie smiled in his disconcerting way. “It’s time for class to begin.”

  Remi did not like this at all. He was used to being in control in this space, and for the second time today, he felt like he was no longer at the front of this class. He hated the feeling of being a student, waiting to get graded.

  His fingers tightened around his meter stick reflexively. Even though he knew attacking the Avatar would be useless, Remi needed to suppress his urge to do so.

  Archie scrutinized Remi. “I mean no offense, but you look like you’ve just marked three sets of final exams. That’s to say, you look like shit. Professionally speaking, of course.”

  “Thanks” was Remi’s only response.

  Archie continued, “We’re in an advisory period; think of it as a comma. A brief pause for clarity. We’ve done quite a few of these—you're not the first to make it through your benchmark battle.” Archie waved vaguely at the projector screen, and it flickered on. It was projecting what appeared to be multiple little screens. It reminded Remi of the footage monitors in a security guard station. There were hundreds of little grey boxes, each filled with action. It was impossible to catch it all as he could only focus on a few boxes at a time. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a doctor apparently turned fighter, in a flickering clinic office. His bonesaw looked to be re-forged as a great sword, and hacked through a writhing ghost made of veins and sinew. A grease-spattered teenager was vaulting the counter of a fast-food kitchen to sever a power cord as a fryer turned cobra spat its oily venom. A street-medic healer collapsing beside a patient on a rain-slick sidewalk as her own HP flatlined; last was Wallace, poised amid an essay storm, fanning crackling magic missiles that reduced literary chaos to ash.

  Archie noticed Remi staring intently at his former colleague. “Yes, that's what you were supposed to do. Take your starter spell, cast it a few times defensively. She did that. That would’ve unlocked your secondary starter ability of magic missile, which you could’ve used to finish the enemy. But what you did is this.” Archie waved again, and suddenly there was a full screen, slow motion video of Remi hammering down with his meter stick in perfect slow-motion arc, like a sports replay where the entire world held its breath, as you could see spit slip rope-like from his lips as he screamed in what appeared to be unhinged rage. The feed sped up. It was like an Abbot and Costello clip, as he slammed his weapon into the origami-insect over and over and over and over and over and over. Archie let the replay run for far longer than it took. Likely for dramatic effect. It finally finished as the Papyropede crumpled under the final impact.

  “No, magic missile was too good for you. You grabbed a stick and went all Tonya Harding on it.” Archie’s head shook back and forth in exasperation.

  “That makes you harder to define. You’re not a boring old mage, that’s for sure, but I'm tasked with assigning an archetype. Wait for it because the system has to do what the system has to do. I think Gandhi said that. So I apologize, but you’ve left it no choice.

  [SYSTEM MESSAGE]

  Archetype reassignment module running…

  Analyzing combat style…

  Spell usage…

  Melee adaptation…

  [CALCULATION COMPLETE]

  [NEW CLASS ASSIGNED]

  Brrrrrrrrruuuuummmmm! A literal drum roll reverberated around the room.

  Spellblade!

  Primary Attribute: Intelligence and Strength hybrid

  A small burst of confetti, similar to Remi’s 3-hole punch detritus, popped from the Papyropede’s remains, burst like a zit. It floated lazily in the air, settling in the black pool that was forming under its carcass. The screen shut off.

  Remi stammered out, “Gross!” Before the system continued.

  [Classification: Caster & Melee Hybrid Subclass]

  Description: A fusion class combining spellcasting precision with physical attack versatility. Ideal for narrative improvisers who prefer “and yes” as an answer.

  [IMPRINT ABILITY CONFIRMATION - NEW SPELL ACQUIRED]

  Mana Lashing (Rare)

  Type: Mobility Tether/Pull

  Archie was looking haggard. “You got this one instead of the typical Mana Bolt because you messed up the system. This gives you a new signature spell for your class. I’ll work out the details and get back to you will the specifics later. Just take the class out for a spin and we can lock in the details if you live long enough.”

  Remi perked up. “If nothing is locked in, and I get cool spells, does that mean I’ll get Fireball?” Whenever he roleplayed a mage, he loved to send a swirly sphere of heat and death towards his enemies.

  “Don’t even think about asking for Fireball. You’ll just have to put your LARPing fantasies aside for now. For sure, it's a no for now. Likely, a no forever. Your decisions have to come at some cost. You wanted to be a close-combat mage, so that means some things are off the table for you. I'm sort of making this class up on the spot. Sorry, but you won’t simply get to fire and forget. Some of what you’ll do will require focus; some will mean your hands are full. We'll worry about it later; you’ll figure out how much you can juggle, and I will figure out what tools you can toss around. Wh—”

  [CLASS UPDATED]

  Spellblade is now a close-range arcane melee class

  Archie being cut off by his own system notification was a moment of levity for Remi, in an otherwise catastrophically overwhelming morning. He looked like he was going to continue, but was again rudely interrupted.

  [NEW QUEST: Prove You Exist]

  Tier: Rare

  Type: Narrative Validation

  The world doesn't yet recognize your presence. Your story is unindexed; your actions are unlogged. To proceed beyond the margins, you must–

  Archie, visibly annoyed, “We don’t have time for this now.” He stopped the quest explanation by closing his fingers into a fist, as if he was balling it up. He then tossed the invisible quest to the side.

  “Hey, I wasn’t done reading that!” Remi leaned towards Archie. “I want to know about the quest.”

  “You can read it later, when you get your codex; it doesn’t really matter right now.”

  “It matters to me,” Remi said.

  “Yes, but the story doesn’t have time for it currently because while the reader is prepared for a bit of necessary narrative info dump, too much all at once bogs down the story. So we trudge on as I haven’t even told you what I was supposed to. Okay, let's review. Hybrid subclass: check. Signature ability: check. Existential dread: optional, but recommended. Fine, moving on.”

  Remi was angry and terrified, and he hated to admit it, a little exhilarated. But more importantly, he felt like he could bring himself to do something other than sit and listen. So he exploded. “This is bullshit! I heard the rant, but there was nothing about pathetic fallacy becoming my reality!” He pointed at the black puddle with his meter stick. Then, it just happened. He wasn’t proud of it. He knew it was petty, but it was all he could think of doing in this moment. Remi lifted the meter stick, and without warning, he hurled it toward the glowing figure. It passed straight through Archie’s projected body. There was no resistance. There wasn’t even a flicker as it clattered to the floor in the corner. “I need to know what the hell is going on, and I need to know it, right fucking now!”