System Lost: My Own Best Friend

Maggie ends up going to sleep after she finishes cleaning, leaving me alone for what might be the first time since she appeared. It certainly feels like it. I was expecting Allie to come back when Maggie left, but she's still out for now. Normally I'd relish a bit of time to myself, but right now I just feel cold and lonely.

I nibble idly on some broken, slightly stale crackers while I occupy my mind by examining our new weapon. I'm a little surprised to see firearms here, though I can't quite put my finger on why. I think it's because of preconceptions based on stories from our old life, but of course I can't actually remember any examples.

The holes in my memory really are strange. I can remember general ideas and concepts, but nothing specific. I know what a gun is, and I know that this particular gun is a matchlock pistol, but while I'm certain that I've seen far more advanced weapons none actually come to mind. I'm certain I'd know them if I saw them, though.

I shrug that thought off for now and wash down the surprisingly dense cracker with a mouthful of water. From our own waterskin, not the new one. I don't feel comfortable using that without thoroughly washing it first.

Back to the task at hand—a matchlock pistol works by igniting some primer, which then detonates the gunpowder behind the loaded bullet. At least, that's my understanding. By all appearances, this weapon is the same. It's got a spring-loaded lever that holds the matchcord, a trigger to release that lever, and a flash pan which the lever touches the cord to. All of that is in line with the mechanisms as I understand them, but there's no powder.

None in the pan—not even any residue—none in the pouch containing the extra ammunition, and none in the barrel after I removed the loaded bullet. And that was an ordeal on its own. The rod inside the pouch had a slightly threaded end that was able to catch the pellet and slowly work it out of the gun. I was terrified I'd shoot my hand off the whole time.

Thankfully, it has two separate layers of safety. There's a locking mechanism that holds the lever in place so that even if the trigger is pulled it doesn't move, and there's a cap on the flash pan. In theory, if either of those aren't opened, the gun won't fire.

In theory.

Anyway, the only hint I have is the crystal that Maggie recovered from the gunman's rifle, along with something she didn't notice when recovering it. It was hard to tell with how damaged it was from the fire, but it looked to me as though there was an unusual amount of damage focused around the breech point. The fact that the crystal itself is undamaged is also suspicious.

So, acting on this hunch, I take a page out of Maggie's book and borrow one of her tricks.

[Skill - The Beaten Path (Quick Sort)]

Gain the effect of one skill from a previously mastered class. Can be changed at will. Currently assigned to Quick Sort.

Always arrange a set of objects correctly according to the desired order.

Actually trying to sort things in my head is a lot harder than she made it sound. There's a hard-to-describe resistance to it that reminds me of pushing myself to open that impossibly heavy door.

I glance behind me at the door in question and shudder at the memory. I really hope that Stalker thing can't get out.

To start things off, I try to do a control by measuring how explosive things are, starting with a regular rock, then some water, then gunpowder, then TNT. It doesn't work. I have to compare specific things—vague concepts like gunpowder and TNT are too broad. Luckily, I do have something else that might work, though I'll have to adjust my thinking.

I pull out one of the crystal vials of unidentified alcohol. Flammability this time—water, a regular rock, hair, alcohol. Okay, so that works. Now how does the crystal hold up to alcohol?

Huh, it's less. Well, that makes sense actually, if it were flammable then it would have burned up. I need to look at this from a different angle. First, I really should confirm whether the pistol even has a crystal of its own. I've been avoiding it because for obvious reasons I'd rather not try to peer down the barrel of a gun.

Luckily, the crystal has a faint glow to it—not as bright as the lamps here, but the same color. One very quick peek confirms that, yes, these crystals do seem to be standing in for gunpowder somehow.

I set the gun aside and draw my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them and frowning. Why am I doing this? Yes, it's important to know how to operate this weapon, as it's one of our most potent resources—albeit limited—but why am I so determined to understand how it works?

All I need to do is load a pellet, light a bit of cord, then see if it fires. In fact, I can probably test it by dry-firing without a bullet, which is much safer. If it works, then I really don't need to do any further investigation. All that matters is whether I can get it to fire. The rest doesn't matter.

I guess...I'm just curious? This is an awful time to be pursuing idle curiosities, but I really do want to know. I'm curious about the technology of this world just as much as Maggie is curious about...

Oh no. Am I being a hypocrite?! Augh! I scrub at my hair in frustration.

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"Penny for your thoughts?" Allie's voice startles me out of my episode of self-loathing.

"Oh! Um, hi Allie," I mutter quietly. "You uh...missed some stuff..."

"Yeah..." she trails off quietly. "Um, sorry for spooking you. You just looked like you needed a friend."

I recall my earlier conversation with Maggie about how each of us is trying to protect each other from different kinds of harm and chuckle.

"Maybe I do," I shrug. "I was just realizing that I was only dismissive of magic because I wasn't interested in it. Now that I find something I am interested in, I'm wasting as much time on curiosity as you and Maggie."

"I don't think it's a waste of time," she says. "If it's important to you, then it's important. There's more to life than just staying alive."

"I suppose you're right," I agree. "So, um...about earlier...?"

"I'm trying really hard not to think about it," Allison answers stiffly. "It...sucks that things happened that way. I don't know what I could have done better, even if I was there. They seemed pretty jumpy, and once things escalated..."

She leaves it at that, and I don't press her. Part of me believes that she could have gotten us out of it somehow, but maybe it really was just a doomed scenario. There's no point in wallowing over it. At least we didn't get hurt. Physically.

"Wait, I forgot!" I exclaim, another thing that's been bothering me rising to the surface. "How did we not get shot?"

"Eh?! Wasn't it because Mags saved us?" Allison asks.

"No, before that," I explain. "The gunman! He had a clear shot and plenty of time to aim. I thought he just missed, but with attributes? Skills?"

"Maybe he didn't have any?" she hedges.

"I wouldn't bet my life on that," I retort. "It must have been something else. A malfunction or..."

No way. There's no way it's that simple. I think back to the moments before everything fell apart, how tense the group was, and the way they all stepped back. They were afraid—of us. With a terrible chill gripping my heart, I visualize the matchlock pistol leveled at my head—a vision that will probably haunt my nightmares. Then I compare it with the gunman—the smallest of the three males—as he leveled his rifle at us. [Quick Sort] by bullets loaded.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but the decision is made for me, tears rolling down my face once more.

"Vi?" Allie prods me gently, her voice full of concern. "Are you okay?"

"He was just a kid, Allie," I sob. "He panicked. Forgot to—hic—load his..."

I can't finish the sentence, breaking down into incoherent blubbering. I don't even bother comparing their ages. I don't need to, and I don't want to. I know I'm right. He was smaller—younger than the rest. Not prepared to end up in a fight for his life. I can still hear his screams. It took so long for him to die.

Allie's presence wraps around me like a warm and gentle hug. "I'm so sorry, Violet," she whispers, on the edge of tears herself. "It's okay to cry. I'm here for you."

It feels like such a strange reversal for me to be the one bawling my eyes out while Allison reassures me. I'm glad for it, though. It takes me a while to get it all out, but Allie stays with me the whole time as a quiet, reassuring presence. She doesn't need to say anything else, and I'm glad she doesn't try. Just being there is enough.

Eventually, I get myself back under control, sniffling as I wipe my eyes and glasses with our sleeves.

"Thanks, Allie," I croak.

"No problem," she replies. "Feeling better?"

"Not really," I manage. "But I'll get there. I think I've figured it out, though."

"Oh?"

I nod. "The guns. If the—the kid forgot to load his gun, then normally there wouldn't have been any report."

"The...bang?" she asks. "Because there'd be no powder, right? You put it in when you load it?"

"That's right," I confirm. "There's no point keeping gunpowder in an unloaded gun, but his still went off anyway. I think it's because of this."

I hold up the orange crystal delicately, keeping it far away from my face now that I understand its purpose.

"It looks like the lamps, but smaller," she comments. "What is it?"

"No idea." I shrug. "But I'm guessing it reacts to fire somehow, with stronger flames causing stronger reactions. If a little spark or a bit of smouldering matchcord is enough to propel a bullet, then that might explain why Maggie's fire caused it to blow the rifle apart."

"Huh. Does it ever run out, do you think? What happens if you just leave it in a fire?"

Good questions. "I don't want to start running away with speculation until I can confirm the first part of the hypothesis. When Maggie wakes up, we'll think of a safe way to test it, but until then we're better off not trying to fire guns in a cave anyway."

I grimace, twisting a finger in my ear—they're still ringing a little bit from earlier.

"Okay, makes sense," Allie agrees. "What now, then?"

Yet another good question. We've pretty much hit a dead end on the firearm, and as much as it feels like this day's gone on forever, I don't feel ready to sleep yet. I could try washing the blood off our stolen clothes but...I can't think about that right now.

I take another bite of the stale travel rations while I consider it, then pause. A final oddity coalescing in the back of my mind.

"You know, they all had pouches like this, but only one of them had any food," I remark. "The big guy probably needed the extra calories, but even then all he had was a few light snacks. That's not deep cave exploration kit."

"Oh my gosh! Violet, does that mean what I think it means?!" Allison asks excitedly.

"Maybe," I hedge. "There could be skills and attributes involved, but I think at the very least it means that they have their own camp nearby, and in the best case..."

"A way out!"

"Maybe," I stress. "But it's a possibility worth exploring. Especially if they've got actual camping supplies we can use."

"And uh...what if they've got friends back at this camp?" she asks nervously.

I wince. "Then we're going to have a lot of explaining to do," I answer. "Or running."

"We don't know their language," Allison points out.

"Or running," I repeat grimly.