After the date, I dropped Madison off at the bus stop she'd chosen and headed home. Where at first I tried to do something productive, but due to my inability to concentrate, I soon found myself near the kitchen window, meditating.
At first, to clear my head, and then to gather my scattered thoughts again.
'In Worm fanfics, transmigrators are supposedly motivated by threats to their lives.
Which, from a writer's and reader's perspective, makes a lot of sense.
But it does NOT make sense.
People rarely do things because of ambiguous risks that are separated from them by months or years.
And if they do? They usually make the simplest and most straightforward decisions.
Coil?
Anonymous tips to alphabet agencies.
Leviathan?
Get out of Brockton Bay.
Scion?
Just kill Jack Slash. Or contact Cauldron.
Oh, Cauldron is a threat, too?
Well, it sucks, but alternatives to Cauldron exist only for people who are 100% sure that they would beat Scion without Cauldron's help.
And if a transmigrator isn't confident in this, the delays regarding Cauldron weren't very logical.
First, because of the nearly infinite attack vectors Cauldron can unleash. From nukes to any combination of Eidolon or 500,000 parahuman powers.
Second, because if the transmigrator is invisible to Path to Victory, that means they are potentially invisible to Scion as well, and therefore should be cherished the same as Eidolon's butt.
Third, because "The Silver Bullet" is just verifiable information about Scion's mental instability; Jack Slash's, Eidolon's, Oliver's, Flechette's, and March's powers; and hints about cloning. For what reason should Cauldron antagonize a person who provided, again, verifiable information essential to save humanity? To anger ANOTHER interdimensional entity who essentially gifts them such information? Really?
No. The idea that transmigrators, at least in fanfics, are primarily driven by survival instinct is wrong. They just don't behave like this.
The main motivation of transmigrators is a much shorter-term one - greed. The one and only Wish-Fulfilling. Conscious and subconscious attempts to offset the enormous inconveniences of transmigration by new possibilities.
Which poses a small problem for me: I lost my memory, so I don't know what I actually wish for.
To figure that out, I had to reconstruct myself from basic needs, fragments of my past, and the present.
With the help of some glue, which includes people like Madison. An emotional anchors that my ego could understand and associate with. And via them - with other things of my new reality. Slowly implementing by them mental healing and rising over Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs hierarchy.
...
People like Madison...
...
Not Madison exactly— but people like her— simple, understandable, controllable people—
Because I don't trust myself with my power, I subconsciously fear any social influence.
And yet because of my sexualization defense mechanism, I desire such influence, and want to use it as a brake from too fast transhumanism—
—despite, again, a powerful fear that, essentially, someone like Madison would start to decide the fate of probably trillions of human lives...
Yes... this fits.
If so, then why did I choose Cruel Intentions?' I asked myself and soon received the most obvious answer from the Self-Therapy cloud.
'It's a consolidation. Desire for the norms. And fear of them.
Because I transmigrated to Worm also from the world at the first stage of social collapse, which could be described like this:
"Feminism: Hey, girls, let's free ourselves from gender stereotypes by men-like behavior and passion for safer Dark Romances!
Men: Ok, we are glad for you, dear humans, but our inner horn-dogs don't trigger on this, so we also free ourselves by porno, anime-girls, and an AI mix of them.
Corporations and governments: Just look at this economic, political, and cultural decline caused by a rapidly aging society! Yet, don't despair, dear citizens, because you already give us so many beautiful justifications for artificial wombs! Be sure, we surely will give your bioengineered heirs even more freedoms from humanness!"
So, of course, when I received such a possibility, I began subconsciously fighting the germs of that dystopian disease and tried to return to normality through Cruel Intentions' universe and pseudo-Buffy.'
"That's it," I exhaled, and ran this chain of thought again.
Having solved the main puzzle of my first incomplete week in the Worm universe — more a week of survival, stabilization, and adaptation than anything else — I promised myself I would spend the next week differently. With much more fun. Much more me.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
And immediately after making that promise, I spent the rest of the day on tedious tasks:
Lazy coding. Sorting and cleaning picture frames. Digging into the firmware and software of the tablet; fortunately, with excellent online documentation, the architectures were easily customizable for someone with my coding knowledge.
Closer to midnight, I felt a slow rise of paranoia.
And then enormous relief when, exactly at midnight, my two charges became seven.
[The Worm — 10.01.2011 — Monday]
Upon waking and completing my morning routine, I lay back on the bed and double-checked my main plan.
At the time, I essentially needed everything at once: a hidden base and its defenses; machines and materials; weapons and gear; physical and intellectual boosts.
Literally everything.
More so, without drawing attention to myself through unusual purchases or actions. Again, in a world with FIVE fucking HUNDREDS of parahumans and already adapted to such a reality, governments and criminal organizations.
Yep, in Worm and fanfics, authors could just ignore this fact to make stories more appealing for readers. But in reality, almost 30 years with thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of parahumans created a deeply rooted cultural impact that I just couldn't ignore.
Someone without a legal business buying a strange set of machines and materials?
Tinker! Seriously, what else would they be doing that for?
Oh, they don't have Corona Pollentia?
Then it's obviously the result of tinkertech drugs, mastering, Trump empowerment, and so on. Because for each "abnormal" genius, there are even more genius parahumans.
More so, in the case of "geniuses" without doctorates or decades of research.
In other words, the fact that I needed cheap, universal, effective, and discreet technologies meant that I needed the impossible.
Or not?
Among all possibilities, I found only one small loophole - carbohydrates.
The most efficient biological energy source and carrier. 2/3 of a plant's dry mass.
If I could buy any technology possible, why not buy the use of sugar and starch for the fast growth of artificial muscles powered also by them, and connected to electronics?
When I wasn't sure whether it was possible with 5 charges, my experience with Inspired Inventor's search system told me it was indeed possible via just the "Chemistry I," "Biochemistry I," "Biophysics I," and "Carbohydrate Myogenesis I" chain.
By just 4 charges! With 1 free for additional clarification, like "Carbohydrate Bio-Nutrition I," "Electroactive Muscle Control," or something for muscular tissue regeneration and self-reproduction.
Sure, in the first week, such muscles wouldn't let me build CNC machines. But starting to dig an underground base in my new house with the simplest programmable biorobots? Totally doable.
The sheer ambition of the idea — the possibility of spending a measly 5-10 points to receive a basic form of grey goo; make the first micro-step toward Organites and a Dr. Gero-style repertoire — was so appealing that after I found this idea, I essentially stopped considering everything else.
Before yesterday. When I began to realize that I had overreacted.
'Do I need something so cheap and potent as Carbohydrate Myogenesis?
Yes, undeniably so.
Do I really need it right now, at the expense of my other desires?
No. "Let's play with bioengineering because it's the most efficient solution," logic awful as a foundation. A tactical victory, but an obvious strategic mistake.
However. If not this, then what?'
I barely resisted buying "Metaphysics I," and instead invested my first charge into something more sanity-friendly.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
"Chemistry I."
If "Mathematics I" and "Programming I" could be imagined as a single uneven platform, then "Chemistry I" raised such a platform on pillars riddled with huge gaps, mainly made out of a lack of physics knowledge.
I assessed Chemistry and immediately realized that my hopes of saving on things like Materials Science, let alone the possibility of outright becoming a "Mad Chemist," were a pipe dream. The chemistry knowledge package was solid, yet almost entirely theoretical.
Next, most of the pillars' gaps were closed by 1 charge spent on "Physics I." Undeniably, the most comprehensive knowledge package so far. That essentially tied all my knowledge together with a network of metaphorical ropes. Including "Self-Therapy I," providing a much better grasp of causality and risk analysis.
My third charge went to something more practical - "Electronics I."
Allowing me to exhale some of my nervousness after realizing that purchasing "Machine-Tool Creation I" and "3D Printing" would be a waste.
Mathematics I, Programming I, Chemistry I, Physics I, Electronics I didn't make me a genius engineer outright, but from now on, there weren't ANY CNC tools known to me that I couldn't recreate from consumer electronic components. Or most things from Discovery Channel's How It's Made. Given time and money, of course. Sigh.
Though I had been searching for days for loopholes, my build deterred me from buying knowledge from the Worm or Mass Effect universes. Even the basics.
Therefore, the fourth charge went to the broadest foundation available, without a single blind spot - "Self Defense I."
"Holy shit," I said as all the metaphorical representations of my knowledge packages cast an enormous shadow.
Like all previous packages, "Self Defense I" gave me no skills. However, because of the absurd universality of Self Defense knowledge and its relevance to my situation, it turned my always slightly active paranoia into a sort of mind-stream that constantly evaluated the environment from the perspective of ALL my other knowledge packages.
And clearly influencing my thinking patterns...
I immediately set the Self-Therapy cloud on the Self Defense shadow. But, perhaps because of some nepotism, the cloud just shrugged and said, "Pal, you wanted something this universal? You got it."
After some reminiscing, I decided to agree. Not that I could do anything about it after the fact. Only by making this new part of me more useful. Which I did by spending my fifth charge on "Information Security I."
Soon, confirming that yes, such a package indeed contained almost everything directly related. From basic principles of makeup and disguise to an understanding of internet protocols and ports.
When taken individually, the first levels of Self-Therapy, Chemistry, Physics, Mathematics, Programming, Electronics, Information Security, and Self Defense didn't elevate me beyond the knowledge of local specialists.
However, together?
Because of the knowledge of so many nuances, they undoubtedly gave me more knowledge than was possible to acquire during a normal human lifetime. Placing me somewhere between the "James Bond" and "Venture Bros." characters.
"Nothing game-changing so far, but a very good foundation for such things," I contentedly mused, absentmindedly sorting out in my head new possibilities and rethinking old ones.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
"To avoid waking up without a rental car, I should move out of this apartment as soon as possible," I mentally marked my primary goal for the week after examining the view from the window with far more critical eyes.
Then I disassembled the MP3 player and confirmed that, yes, from now on I could indeed predict and understand at least a larger portion of a PCB schematic.
Then I started searching for other ways to check my new knowledge, but soon sighed and reproached myself. "Stop procrastinating, Max. Later, not today, today you should finish Gate." I said and began dressing.
Soon, I went outside and started driving around the city, stopping at miscellaneous shops to buy miscellaneous supplies. The remaining components and tools needed for Gate creation, including a Dremel drill; summer clothes, a backpack, theatrical makeup, a first-aid kit, and so on.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
When I returned home, I finished cleaning the picture frames and began assembling the Gate. Occasionally distracting myself only with sluggish conversations with Madison about her life, gradually steering the discussion toward her relationships with "her best friends" Emma and Sophia.
The gate foundation was made from the best dark-red picture frame I had. I trimmed it to 75x75cm and then nailed a few more frames onto it, creating a 75x75x75cm cube frame.
Next, the worst boards were used to cover the bottom of the frame. And the boards with the best carvings were used to cover the other sides and to make small handles.
After the wooden frame was closed on all sides except the front, I began covering the already wooden box's interior with the finest black velvet I could find in the city.
Afterward, I filled the seams between the boards with quick-drying wood filler and covered the exterior — except for the front — with an extremely thin layer of gold foil. So thin that instead of concealing the carvings, it smoothed and emphasized them. Making them resemble a stylized wave pattern.
By late evening, the box part of the Gate was almost ready. So I took a 1990s Japanese telephone I'd bought at a flea market and carefully glued it to the top of a jadeite candleholder in the candle place. And over it I glued, connected to the phone, Koss Sporta Pro headphones of the 1999 model.
Just for fitting, I experimentally placed the candleholder in the center of the cube, symbolically combining the concepts of "Eastern Aristocracy, Eastern Technology, Western Technology, Western Aristocracy; 1999 Young Aristocratic Blood," and immediately felt the possibility of confirming the Gate's creation.
Which, of course, I declined, and until late at night, meticulously correcting small imperfections. Pushing the Gate at least somewhat closer to something that could plausibly exist as an art installation owned by the characters. In the real world, or as a movie prop.
"It's... at least not crude," I said after the final application of wood varnish to the front frame, critically evaluating the box for the last time.
It wasn't very beautiful or unique, yet it wasn't unpleasant either, thanks to its tidiness and simplicity. Somehow, even tranquil. More like some sort of elite shipping box with a rich vase that was used for an exprompt joke by the buyer's teenage offspring, then a critically failed attempt to create something rich and outstanding.
Although the Gates superpower described them as totemic objects, this wasn’t stated directly. So, because the last thing I needed was some sort of passage opened into the wall, I placed the Gate-prop in the center of the room and, after a few seconds of hesitation, confirmed Gate creation.
While some part of me, of course, had expected some kind of show, reality was a far cry from anything I'd imagined.
At first, the Gate shifted. Not physically, at least according to my physical senses, but visually splitting on a multilayered fractal dimension. Which immediately began consolidating into increasingly less noticeable yet more physical effects. Up to slight physical vibrations and rippling that... made the construction a little more real?
Though the effect lasted only a few moments, it still took me a while to recover from the most metaphysical shit I'd seen so far and place my hand on the Gate again. Immediately sensing three options: one active, "Starting Point." And two inactive: "Last Exit Point" and "Inner Gate."
"Convenient," I muttered after opening the status window and confirming that time speed could be controlled without my touching the Gate, and even before the first visit.
After inspecting the Gate, I also found out why exactly it had become "more."
All the nails, traces of glue, seams between foil sheets, droplets of varnish, all the tiny imperfections, including some foil folds... just gone. The Gate hadn't become substantially better or different, just more uniform and constructionally fully solid.
"Interesting... Since only I can use them, at some point I perhaps could sell them as parahuman art or use them as airtight components," I muttered wearily, last time looked at the fruits of my labor, and headed to bed.
[The Worm — 11.01.2011 — Tuesday]
Tuesday morning, I spent making final preparations for my first journey.
Around noon, I changed into spring clothes, packed everything potentially useful into a backpack, and approached the Gate.
Despite the nominal safety of the Cruel Intentions universe and so many backup plans, with rather apprehensive feelings. Not for any specific reason, but because of many small concerns.
After a quick run through my anxieties with Self-Therapy, I took a deep breath, touched the Gate, activated the journey—
—and instantly found myself in a brightly lit and crowded location. Without any transition whatsoever. For me — and because of mentioned in the Gate power description "short-term obscurification effect upon entry and exit" — for anyone nearby as well.
I quickly looked around and right away recognized the atrium from the very beginning of the movie. As well as my position, under the column standing near the trash can to which Sebastian Valmont had thrown away the psychiatrist's book.
I opened my profile.
Home Universe:
Worm (moderate fanon)
Derail: unpowered Oliver
Merge: Mass Effect (first contact in 2013)
Powers:
Inspired Inventor
Available Charges: [2]
Charges per Week: 5
Purchased: Mathematics I, Programming I, Self-Therapy I, Chemistry I, Physics I, Electronics I, Self Defense I, Information Security I
Gates
Active Gates: [Worm; pause] [Cruel Intentions; Yellow]
Material Relocation: [1] kg per day
In Worm and other universes, all female Named Characters are ≥18 years old
ID
Adaptive Blank
Mental Barrier
And mentaly clicked on "Cruel Intentions" words, opening a pop-up window with the description of the derailment: "Dr. Regina Greenbaum confronted Sebastian Valmont about her daughter's photos before he left."
'That's...' I tried to process the information and come to a somewhat contradictory conclusion.
The starting point was close to ideal: the very beginning of the plot. When the risk of a lawsuit against Sebastian, especially one attracting public attention, was... rather suboptimal.
Checking my wristwatch, I noted the time and began waiting for Sebastian.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
After more than five minutes of standing around, I started wondering whether the Gate had dropped me off after Sebastian had already left the atrium before me.
At one point, I asked a passerby for the date and confirmed my suspicion that the story had indeed begun on August 18th, 1999. About two weeks before the start of the academic year, and during the time of already started Y2K hysteria, something I already knew how to monetize.
Checking my pockets, I also discovered that despite not bringing my Worm passport and driver's license, I had received a valid pair for this world.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
Approximately ten minutes after my second transmigration, I finally spotted Sebastian, who, with a stormy gait and infuriating expression, headed my way.
'Well, perhaps this isn't going to be as easy as I imagined.'
I let him pass and then followed him at a deniable distance. Soon, we exited the building and headed toward the spacious parking lot.
When we were about halfway to his Jaguar XK140 roadster, I called out:
"Sebastian!"
Sebastian sharply spun around and narrowed his eyes at me.
"Who the fuck are you?" he shouted aggressively and slipped his right hand into his jacket pocket.
My Self Defense-powered paranoia immediately flared. After all, this was the USA, and there was a very good chance that in his universe, his age was similar to his stepsister's, 18.
I held my empty hands where he could see them and continued approaching him at a very slow pace.
"Easy! My name's Max. I'm here for a proposal related to Kathryn!" I tried to intrigue him with something familiar. "If you agree, I will pay you 50 grand for it. (100k in 2026)."
Sebastian pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding a small silver piece of metal that looked like a miniature, almost toy-like, pistol, but didn't he tell me to stop.
'Great. Fucking great. Fucking Murphy.'
"Sounds like complete bullshit. But let's assume you're right. What exactly is your offer? Or do I need to say some code phrase to hear it?" he said in an angry and sarcastic tone.
I stopped 4 meters before him.
"I will take my backpack," I warned him, and slowly started to take it off.
Setting it on the ground, I pulled out the plastic bag containing the tablet and charger. I removed the tablet from it, showed its dimensions to Sebastian, and then activated it, starting the Cruel Intentions movie intro.
"This thing is similar to a Personal Digital Assistant. But right now it's operating in a special mode that shows only one movie," I said, and made a few more steps toward a clearly interested, and very soon bewildered by the quality of the display, Sebastian.
"It has three buttons. The highest one turns it on and off, and the next two regulate the sound. Right here." I showed him the buttons, finally getting close enough to evaluate the obvious chrome-plated mini-pistol. Perhaps purposefully created in a way to look like both an expensive toy and a real single-shot weapon.
I continued, "If you turn it off and then back on, the movie starts from the beginning—"
"Wait, wait. What is that? It's NOT a PDA." Sebastian interrupted me, obviously because he had never seen LCD with at least somewhat comparable characteristics.
"You will know in due time," I said disapprovingly. "Here, look. This button restarts the movie. If you quickly tap the right or left side twice, the movie skips twenty seconds forward or backward. If you tap the center, it pauses. Power. Rewind. Pause. It's clear so far?"
"Yes," Sebastian curtly answered, regaining some control over his surprise.
"The battery is designed for two hours of screen activity, so this is the charger. It plugs in here. Like this." I demonstrated plugging, then placed both items back into the plastic bag.
"To understand my proposal, you'll need to watch the movie. You don't have to show it to Kathryn, but if you do, it'll make everything much easier.
I'll make the offer tomorrow. At this exact time and place. Don't bring Kathryn, because we might need to use your car.
Also, I strongly recommend that you don't discuss anything about our conversation with anyone except Kathryn. Soon you'll start doubting this advice. But trust me, at least in this, I have no intention of harming you or anyone else. But rash actions... would only make things much uglier for everyone involved. With absolutely no exceptions," I said cryptically to frowning Sebastian.
Next, I handed him the plastic bag, said "Have a good day," farewell — retroactively, rather mocking words — and briskly began walking toward the atrium. Wanting to be as far away as possible from a potentially armed man who very soon will see himself in a movie, and minutes after this, would experience a powerful existential crisis.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
Back inside the atrium, I strolled to the far end of it, stepped behind a column, and began "doing absolutely nothing."
After 5 minutes, I noticed an Exit button in the profile and immediately pressed it. But instead of immediate exiting, I saw a new menu with the option to choose which materials I wanted to move between universes. In my case, with two items named "Dirt" and "Water," both indicated in milligrams.
For experimental purposes, I selected both, pressed Exit again, and, without any transition effects, found myself in the same place where I had been before entering. But with the body's position as it was at the moment of exit.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
Back home, because I didn't want to change my sleep schedule, I set the Cruel Intentions universe to x1 speed and checked the transferred dirt, which, as expected, just remained at the bottom of the bag.
⸻⸻x⸻⸻
The rest of the day, I spent completing freelance jobs and talking to Madison, steadily reinforcing in her mind my interest in Emma and Sophia. I even managed to get her to mention Taylor, by Madison's words, "stupid, unkempt girl."
'Taylor...
The internet confirmed that her trigger happened on January 3rd. Judging by canon, today or tomorrow, she should return home. So my first meeting with the Queen of Escalation is theoretically possible by the end of this week or the beginning of next one.
But do I really need to?'
To that question, my rational side, backed by Self Defense and Information Security, said clear: "NO FUCKING WAY, CRETIN!"
And indeed, why would a cape whose power grows over time voluntarily associate with an unstable person who has a substantial chance of appearing in one of Coil's simulations or attract Tattletale's interest?
But my emotional side — supported by the surprisingly obscene little cloud (It's Always the Quiet Ones) — enthusiastically said: "YES, why not, didn't you choose Worm? Worm is all about Taylor and PanPan, Pal."
I buried my face in my hands. Feeling as if all my Madison-therapy progress was in vain.
To distract myself, I soon began using my — at the same time new and old — hobby, fast-reading of near-future Science Fiction novels. Trying to find some interesting cheating possibilities. For which — if everything goes smoothly in the next few days — I would soon have a free pass.