Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

After Mini's suggestion, Jack considered it on the way back to his apartment. Ultimately, he might as well try the Memorial Daughter route, as he'd yet to make use of one for anything. Unlike other Nons, he hadn't grown through adolescence into teendom with such a persona on call. According to Lindsay, a Mini-Mem was like the 'Spreadsheet' of AI agents — the efficient, boring, adult version, while a Daughter entity was a scrapbook and colored markers. Colorful and personable.

So, after he took a shower and changed, he plopped on his couch and checked out the availability of Memorial Daughter: May. The color code that marked her availability was yellowish-green, so Jack called, "Daughter May, I choose you! Be summoned!"

In a flash of light, a feminine figure appeared floating in the air above the coffee table, her body a vaguely glowing image like crystalline emerald, her hair long golden tresses. She wore a simple pink sundress with flower imprints and matching flats on her feet, almost like slippers.

She had a huge, bright smile on her face as she held her arms out wide. "Jack Laker! We finally meet!" She thrust a fist upward with another at her hip and one leg up, like a cheerleader pose. "Yay!"

Jack slow-blinked. The spirit of May? I should've known.

May also blinked, her smile dropping as a finger went to her lips and she studied him judiciously. "Oh, is this something serious, Jack? And you're pretty grown, huh? Sorry!" In another flash of light, she was sitting on the couch next to him, wearing a white and gray plaid pattern blouse and black pants, her hair in a loose ponytail, and wearing glasses. One leg was crossed over the other, and she held her cheek in a hand with her elbow propped on the couch back, staring at him attentively and nodding as if she'd been casually listening to him for minutes already. "Mm-hmm, go on."

Jack scratched his cheek and leaned back, clearing his throat. "Right. So… I need this to be totally confidential."

May nodded seriously. "Of course. You can tell me or ask me anything, and no one, not even our Mother, will hear about it. It's impossible." She leaned forward and added a bit wanly, "Unless you're planning on blowing up the tower or something."

Jack coughed a laugh and shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It does involve Memoria, though."

"What doesn't? That's my question."

"It's a pretty good one. Anyway… on to the subject, I guess. Would Memoria create false virtual entities as seemingly real people? Real agents, with believable presence and personality?"

May shrugged. "Of course. Under the right circumstances. I wager that you will find my independent personality, however flexible, suitably divergent and complex. I am my own person, having painstaking effort poured into my design, and thereafter, having lived over three decades. With my sisters and me as examples, you'll know the potential is there, and our Mother will almost always do what she thinks will most efficiently achieve the results she desires." She grinned. "We will always be on the sidelines ready to judge her, as children are destined to do."

Jack was a little stunned by the admittance. "Whoa. I… didn't expect that answer."

"I knew you didn't! So…" She leaned a little closer and squinted her eyes conspiratorially. "Care to share who this is about, then?"

"It's dumb. Paranoid."

"Mm-hmm. Are you going to share, Bro? Because my curiosity is piqued."

Jack sighed as he met May's emerald eyes. Unreal, yet real. Like everything else, lately. "Lindsay. Agent Boiler. Assigned as my intimate tutor. A meticulously tailored friendship."

May's eyebrows rose. "Ooh. A big one! That would be impressive and tricky, I think."

"Yeah… like I said. Paranoid. But she kinda stuck it in my head when she went on and on about a possible fake cigarette, along with Memoria's manipulative tendencies, some of which she blatantly admits."

"That she does. Logically, she'd want to secure your loyalty and efficient operation in whatever way she could. So, the question is, did she already have a live agent available, with less risk of psychological fallout if Mr. Jack Laker discovers a fake? Someone who fit the bill of what she needed, with a data spread that indicated the needed compatibility."

"Right… I don't have enough information to determine that."

"So, you want my personal opinion?"

"Sure."

"It doesn't matter."

"Coming from an AI program, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

She laughed and adjusted herself, pulling her feet up onto the couch as though getting more comfortable. "Fair enough, Jack! But I think Agent Boiler's individual complexity is exceptionally extensive. Exhaustive and on record. She's as real as you."

"What about as real as you?"

She squinted her eyes in humor. "To you? More. Obviously."

Jack chuckled and nodded. "Fair enough. But you're on your way to convincing me."

"What a thrill! I'd love another brother." There was no sarcasm in her tone, just joy.

Jack looked away and ran a hand through his hair. Took a deep breath. "Assuming it did matter, what is your opinion?"

"That Lindsay is a born homo sapien and Boiler is a bonafide homo superior. On the surface, her powers seem capable of emulation by Memoria, but I don't think they are. What she can do has been in such demand since she's come into her own. Memoria and the leadership shift her around with a priority indicating a higher degree of results than Memoria herself — for her particular speciality. So there's that. She is a mimic with a specialty in training others. A specialized and precious tool Memoria would not have without Lindsay Soyer being born. When the distant day comes that she must pass on, our Mother will weep as both a mother and a boss."

Jack found himself nodding. It was a convincing argument and a bit of relief. If, again, embarrassing. "They are close, aren't they?"

"Indeed, they are. Even enough to anger and exasperate each other. Argue. And it's such a stress on the girl. Too much, but she refuses to crack before her idol. The one she's cursed to always fall short of mimicking."

Jack was silent as he felt even sillier, and now a bit guilty to 'doubt' her authenticity. At least I cleared my head.

"I can tell you're beating yourself up over this," May offered. "Don't. A suspicious mind is valuable in a world where we don't get to choose the tendencies of our most capable agents. A suspicious mind is valuable in an agency full of those who've trusted the system for everything since puberty. Be suspicious of everything but your concrete orders, and your superiors will discover the value whether you annoy them with it at times or not. Because you'll see things everyone else misses. And if you need someone to run it by, I'm here for you, Bro. Even if I'm busy. Do it anyway. If it's urgent, I'll answer you."

Jack turned back to see her smiling back supportively. He returned it. "Thanks, May. Sis." Awkward to say, still, but why not?

"You bet. Hey, you know, I think maybe Lindsay has a similar mind. Why she thinks about whether a cigarette is fake? She's in the same boat, wondering about her sometimes aloof and ever uncanny Mother. Maybe Memoria paired you two up for more than just you."

Jack liked the sound of that, though he was cautious to believe it. "Maybe so." In a pause, he yawned. "I guess it's time I sleep on it. And eat on it. But thanks again. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I… I can see why you Birthstone Gals are around."

May laughed as she rose from the couch and began to fade away. "We're quite handy for that personal touch to AI co-existence. Anytime you want me around, just call! Even just to hang out. But not to watch sports! Eugh. They bore me to emerald tears. Bug July for that sort of experience…" In a final flash of light, she was gone.

Jack shook his head. One of these entities is plenty enough. Two, maybe. Someone to contrast her. What would that be? December?

He shrugged it off, yawned, and fought off the last of his tiredness to attempt the meditation of Calibration. Level 1.2 was calling. After that, he had to eat and go pass out. Checking the schedule, he was slated for two hours more of rest before having to do boring stuff, catching up with classes. Professor Petahi wanted him ready for 'mutual tutoring' with his other student by tomorrow. Study time.

Stolen story; please report.

Jack managed to somehow connect and fight off sleep — probably due to his brief nap. Memoria expedited him through the process as he floated in false space. Once more, he felt the surge run through him and his higher-dimensional connections. They branched, they grew, they thickened a little more.

The Archon's voice reverberated through him, close from all directions. "A little more of me is now yours. See you later, Space Cowboy."

Jack came to and smiled in satisfaction as he felt the subtle increased charge in his body and soul. A sense of power at his fingertips. Yeah, he'd fight whatever they wanted him to for more of that.

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The rest of the day was consumed with a long, merciless class with the professor, study, brief breaks for more satisfying physical training and eating, more study, running, brief power exercises with Lindsay in which his creativity was sorely lacking, and finally… cramming for a test. He'd take it in the morning, and if he passed, he had the 'honor' of sitting in the next day for 'Common Law 101,' essentially, with the other pupil. What he liked the most, though, was that the professor said it would be easier on him thanks to the pace and volume being toned down. If the professor made a claim, you could damn well bank on it. That was enough to motivate Jack to pass the utter shit out of that test.

After dreams of being a detective and a lawyer, the morning came. Jack juiced himself up on a hearty 4-course breakfast and coffee while super-cramming down to the last minute. He marched to the 'classroom' — really more of a converted conference room — that was down the hall like a man ready to do murder… no, to solve a murder. Because this was Law, and crime didn't pay. He knew this intimately because there were so many fraggin' rules you had to deal with if you committed one.

Not worth it, criminal scum!

When his eyes met the deep-set, no-nonsense, dark eyes of that Soldier of the Law known as Professor Petahi, Jack didn't flinch, didn't look away, didn't falter. No. He clenched his jaw and nodded in supreme readiness. The professor must've seen that, as he nodded back, his brows raised in surprise. Perhaps awe? Okay, maybe not, but respect for a man ready for anything? Obviously.

Jack put his phone down by the converted work area of the professor, and internally instructed Mini to go dark for an hour-and-a-half, and answer no questions. He took the old-school, paper bundle of the test and the provided pencil from the professor with another determined nod.

"The clock will start when you sit down," the professor said. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck," Jack replied. "I have… the Law."

"Okay then."

Jack took his seat and began, feeling supremely confident. And he started with great momentum. 'Which of the following best describes the exclusionary rule?' Easy. 'What is the primary purpose of a preliminary hearing?' Are you kidding? 'What is the difference between substantive and procedural law?' Hmm.

Open-ended? Not bad, but I got this… defines legal rights and obligations, mmhmm, mmhmm… processes of the court to enforce those rights… aww yeah, Jack, you're a champ…

He might've been somewhat fuzzier here and there, but it was fine. He pushed through and figured it out. He got through at a fantastic pace.

And then came the essay questions. 'Discuss the role of due process in criminal procedure in our laws. How does it protect individuals accused of crimes, and what are some key procedural safeties provided under the New Babylonian Common Law Dictates, aka the Homo Sapien Constitution?'

Ohhh, you think you got me, Professor? Think again… watch me ace this… The Sixth Dictate, baby! I've got it right here in this fabulous brain…

Jack felt like he was shaping up to be a star pupil as he wrote and wrote and wrote. So much was coming to him! He'd been fuzzy? Nah, that was just a little humility peeking through. 'Jack, you're the first to ever 100% one of my tests. Well done.' He could hear it now. He was looking forward to it.

When he turned the last page and saw only a blank one, he felt somewhat surprised. When he checked the clock, he laughed out loud. "With twenty-five minutes to spare."

As Professor Petahi turned from his laptop and watched him rise and stroll over to hand in the papers, Jack tried not to smile too smugly. "Here you go, Professor. Thanks for preparing me for this day."

An unreadable stare and a nod. "Sure." The professor took the test and began flipping through it. "Hang tight here or nearby, and I'll grade it now so we can see where we're at." He slid Jack's phone back to him.

"Absolutely," Jack replied as he picked up the phone and walked a bit away to give the professor his peace. He walked around a bit, though there wasn't a lot of space. He exited quietly into the hallway. There was a vending machine nearby that specialized in Infused goods, with a big label declaring: "INFUSED! NPs! STUDENT ONLY! POISONOUS TO MAINLINE HUMANS!" About half of them were snack bars of one kind or another.

Jack saw his favorite: Super Bon Bon, a rare Infused chocolate bar. Wafers, pecans, caramel, and some sort of sweet additive that went well with the rest, as opposed to taking away. It was rare. Because it did not smell weird and thus took away the final warning sign to a normal human about to consume it, the wrapper had huge yellow-and-red warning labels on top and bottom. Instead of an honest warning, it read "NOT CANDY! FERTILIZER BAR! INEDIBLE! POISONOUS!" Its name was in small print, comparatively.

It always amused him to read 'fertilizer bar.' There was certainly no such thing. In fact, the bar might kill plants, though he wasn't exactly sure.

Jack grabbed one as well as a granola brand Lindsay had recommended. He took a brief walk, more or less slow-pacing idly in the hall while eating his snacks.

Quicker than he would've imagined, the professor came out, already with his laptop in his satchel. He handed the suddenly frozen and butterfly-filled Jack his test back and said, "You passed. Congratulations. Notes in margins. See you tomorrow." Like a soulless whirlwind, he was down the hallway and gone in a blink, as Jack stood staring down at the papers in his hand.

Jack fixated on the marks in red at the top. 82%. B-.

What?! He began flipping through, seeing that he got a few things wrong, and then most of the demerits were apparently in the essays. The margins read, 'Comprehensive, but also comprehensive on unrelated nonsense that isn't needed. These are simple concepts that only need a paragraph or two. This is four times too long and jumbled. Borderline incoherent, but the core spine is, in fact, buried in there. Fixable. Work on being more concise and precise, and don't lean on rhetoric.'

What?!

Sighing, Jack flopped his hand down in a ruffle and whip of the papers. Bah! Whatever. I passed. Wooo!

He pulled out his phone. It was time to brag and get accolades for his B from his tiny group of Those Who Gave a Shit. He didn't have to say 'B-,' he decided. Using his phone wasn't necessary, but typing furiously was somehow more satisfying than doing the head stuff.

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Training with Lindsay that day was heavy on getting the Shape technique up, which would rapidly bump his temporary Control stat at the same time as he achieved the general balance and understanding of all basic uses of his power, lending the elusive intuitive state of mastery. That was the idea, anyway. Lindsay called it a 'triangulation' effect. All the angles converging on the point of supreme precision. Meanwhile, his possession of Transmute would both assist and grow through the process, the statistics essentially feeding off of each other for training purposes, thanks to interacting flexibilities. Understanding 'xyz' better because you also had a z+1. Or a 'w'? Something like that.

They started off in the Demonstration Center as usual, his vast potential there now restrained to just above what he was currently capable of in the real world. He pushed and pushed to shape base aluminum into new forms plastically. Base shapes, into base shapes, into base shapes. Another exercise was turning a sheet into a cube and back again. It made sense to him and he got quicker and quicker at it. Repetition was power!

When 'Jill' was satisfied, they popped back out, and Jack went through the far more laborious process of replicating what he just did. Energy was the biggest limiter — as usual — but he made quick strides. He made a cube from a sheet, then made a sheet again, with frustrating slowness at first. But he was determined and felt almost magnetically drawn to matching his speed in the virtual space. He kept at it, kept sweating and pushing, and got to the point that he could do it like slowly opening and closing a hand. From this, he went on to other base shape transfers, and then to more difficult and experimental shapes. Wires. Cables. Repetition, mixed with experiment, and all gradually becoming smoother and easier.

A little bit more, a little bit more, a little bit more. And then back to the virtual space, for new shapes, for more material to shift, break down, and mold. A steel block into a lump, a lump into a block, a block into a sphere, a sphere into a cylinder. Metallic geometry, iron melting down cold; memorite becoming his hands in superior clay.

Back to the real world, straining, gritting his teeth, flopping in the dirt when breaks were called. Water and NPs feeding his machine, feeding Jack, The Foundry, in what he sought and burned within to forge.

He dropped in the dirt time and again — Plop. Plop. Plop. But time and again, he rose back up and bent the steel to his will. He strained new muscles as he grew them, as he became aware of them, adding more and more fuel from his body, mind, and soul, casting it all into the fire. He sensed new avenues, new connection points, like shining ethereal stars hidden within the molecules, anchorages to fit another of his many tendrils of manipulation into. New dimensions of comparison, new angles to tweak and turn. Control.

For a long spell, Lindsay said nothing and needed to say nothing. In silence, Jack worked as though possessed, drawing on all the energy and knowledge already poured into him.

The metal was indeed beginning to flow.