82nd of Vhalar Arc 721
Oberan’s head ached, blood pounding at his temples. Veins pulsed. His eyes burned when he tried to open them, feeling dry and irritated. The light didn’t help, too bright. Blindingly so. Scorching his retinas, forcing them closed on reflex. He could only keep them open if he squinted real hard. It was better if he turned his head away, the source of the light no longer shining directly in his face.
Slowly the white spots in his vision faded, and the room revealed itself. A small chamber with barely anything in it. It was almost unremarkable, except for the fact that the left wall had a large mirror set into it, right next to the door. He could see himself reflected in it, looking as drowsy and disoriented as he felt. He sat at a metal table, bolted to the floor. An ether-lantern stood on top, lens aimed at him. There were three metal chairs at the table. Two on the opposite side, empty. His reflection sat in the last, hands in shackles, and feet chained to the chair’s legs.
“What the fuck?”
He pulled, and the chains rattled, but did not give. He brought his hands closer to his face, studying the manacles. Standard issue, thick iron bands with thin but short and sturdy chain connecting the two. He’d escaped many times from similar binds, that wouldn’t be a problem. The question, however, was where exactly he found himself, and why.
Oberan flexed his wrists, pulling against the manacles like he had so many times before. He prepared himself for some pain and discomfort, but nothing happened. His wrists refused to dislocate and slip through the iron cuffs. Weird, but no matter, he had other means of freeing himself. Focusing for a moment, he reached into the well of power within his soul, willing the chains to vanish. His frown grew, the cuffs remained.
He wasn’t done yet. A good thief had several tricks up their sleeve. Focusing again, Oberan thought of the lock on the manacles, pictured it springing open. It did not cooperate, not even when he concentrated so hard he went cross-eyed. Do I not have a key on me?
“Don’t bother, you’re in an Overseer-powered Obstruction and Containment field.” Oberan glanced up, surprised. To his left stood a man in a suit and tie, closing the door behind him. “Magic, marks, Mortalborn abilities, and even skills, they’re all rendered useless.”
He walked up to the table, dragged one of the chairs back, and lowered himself in it. It forced Oberan to squint directly into the blinding lamplight to face him. Though he had a hard time seeing the features of the man’s face, Oberan noted he smelled vaguely like breakfast. “Prime Citizen Oberan, right? I am Bacon, the Overseer burdened with your case. Water?”
Overseer Bacon filled two glasses from a decanter he’d brought into the room. He slid one across the table, and took a sip from the other. Oberan gave the liquid a suspicious look and didn’t make any attempts to drink. Bacon shrugged, placed a thick off-yellow folder on the table. Licking a finger, he began to leaf through it.
“Let’s see. Prime Citizen Oberan, first record of existence dates back to… Saun twenty-third, seven hundred and seventeen.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m more than five years old.”
Even with the light stealing most of his vision away, Oberan could see Overseer Bacon snigger. “Oh, we’re talking about your first actual appearance, not the insertion of your existence into the world’s history. There’s a difference, you see. But not to worry, we are very aware of your background too.” He flipped the file back to the first page, placed a finger on the paper, and scraped his throat. “’Oberan Brackling, actual name Djas. Born the forty-eighth of Zi’da six-hundred and thirty-five. Mortalborn of Audrae, charged with the domains of Larceny, Mischief, and Thrill. Height: five feet seven inches. Domain abilities--”
“Right, right. I get it, you’ve got everything there is to know about me jotted down in that folder there. So, care to tell me where I am, exactly? And why?”
“Gathering intelligence to better plan your escape, eh? I like it. But it’s useless. You’ve got no access to your skills and abilities here. They do not exist in this space. This isn’t the reality you’re used to. You can think of it as a dimension bordering to it, where we Overseers take care of the administrative issues and the like. You’re been temporarily brought here for questioning—well, it’s a bit more complex than that, but let’s keep it simple, shall we?”
“And here is…?”
“The Overseer Intervention Bureau. We investigate cases of Prime Citizens who’ve breached the rules or are suspected of doing such.”
“Ah, I see. And what crime have I committed then? Is this about the pickpocketing? The breaking and entering? Performing on the street without a license? I’m pretty sure the man from the registration bureau said none of that would get me in trouble with the Overseers…”
Overseer Bacon chuckled. “Not at all, not at all. We Overseers wouldn’t pull you into this realm for such a petty thing. No, no. At worst we’d maybe send some guards after you. We’re not bothered by crime and lawlessness inside the chronicle. As long as it does not break the rules, we don’t have to get directly involved.” He fiddled with the lantern, and the light dimmed a bit. Spreading his hands, he smiled amicably. “This doesn’t have to be a bad time for you. Simply confess your misstep and we can see about light sentence. Of course, the rules must be enforced, so punishment is still in order. That’s just how things are.” There was an apology underneath his words. “But to report you as cooperating with the investigation, I have to get a confession from you.”
“Yeah, about that. I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”
A smile that didn’t move his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, Oberan.”
“See, the fun thing is that I don’t have to pretend. I honestly have no idea what you’re on about.”
Bacon’s expression darkened. With a twist of his hand, the lantern’s light flared to maximal intensity, bathing all of Oberan’s vision in pure white. It penetrated his eyelids, still scorching when he pressed them closed. The Overseer slammed the table hard with both hands, threw a glass of water in his face. “I’m talking about the incident five days ago when our system for Activity Review, Discussion, and Overseer Notification flagged several of your activities as problematic and requiring Overseer attention! Ring a bell yet?”
Oberan coughed out some water, wiped his face with his shirt. “Not really, no. Any chance your system is mistaken?”
“Oh sure, the system has it’s shortcomings. It’s produced several false positives when confronted with poetic language and metaphors. It tends to confuse very subjective thoughts for objective fact too. However! What it is very good at is finding infractions of the rules!”
“The way you say it implies I’ve done such a terrible thing, but I’ve no memory of it.”
“Still playing dumb, huh? Duly noted.” Scowling, he thumbed through the folder, tapped a page hard with his finger. “Here we are. Four days ago you interacted with a class one Non Prime Citizen, correct?”
Oberan quirked an eyebrow. “Well, I do not subscribe to the notion of separating the Non Primes into different categories, as if they were animals. It feels degrading. Like they are second class citizens.”
“Just answer the question.”
He threw his hands up, as much as the shackles allowed it. “I guess? I don’t know, I don’t care for labels and categories. I don’t ask everyone I meet if they are or aren’t this or that. Do you?”
“Did you, or did you not!”
“Fine! Yes, yes I did! Is that a crime? Am I not allowed to interact with anyone but Prime Citizens? Are the Non Primes forbidden from interacting with me?”
Overseer Bacon sighed deep, leaned back in his chair. “Not if they are actual class ones. Then you can interact on a couple separate occasions. Two, three times. Maybe five, max. More than that and they need to be Prime Bound—”
“Which requires many stupid forms and Overseer approval, blah blah blah.”
“Which requires submission of the correct and necessary forms,” Bacon said, “so one of the Overseers may approve or reject it. In your case however, this doesn’t even apply. Do you know why we make a distinction between Prime Citizens and Non Prime Citizens, Oberan? Do you know how Non Prime Citizens come into existence?”
“I’d say they get born like everyone else does. Have you heard of the birds and the bees, Overseer Bacon?”
“Wrong. They spawn into existence around Prime Citizens. Prime Citizens affect change in the world. They create, subconsciously. Buildings, shops, people, children, bandits, fauna, flora, landscapes! Small things usually. They venture into the woods and come across a clearing that wasn’t there before. They rest there and get assaulted by a pack of wolves that did not exist until that point. They flee for their life and get saved by an old lady living in a treehouse. Who. Did. Not. Exist. Until. Then.”
Oberan needed a moment to parse that, to consider the ramifications. “Sounds like you’re scared of us. You don’t know the extent of what we can accomplish. We are an unknown to you. Is that why all those rules are in place? To limit the influence we can exert?”
“Unknown?” Bacon scoffed, shook his head. “We know exactly what Prime Citizens can do. We Overseers were Prime Citizens before we ascended, after all.”
“Ascended?” The word left a bad taste in Oberan’s mouth. “What, now you’re some kind of superior being?”
“No, we’re overworked and exhausted. All of us. That’s why there’s rules in place. Allowing a single Prime Citizen, let alone all of them, to freely exercise their power of creation… there’d be chaos. The world would devolve into one big fucking mess. You have no idea how much time and effort is put into maintaining the world. In cleaning up messes left behind by others. We cannot micromanage each and every little thing! Yes, we’re scared of what a Prime Citizen can do, but only because it’ll turn into an unending administrative nightmare if we leave you free to do whatever.”
“As far as I recall there are no rules telling us not to interact with … well, anything.”
“No, but the rules restrict the ways how you can interact with just about everything. You cannot visit important locations that are not listed in the Ministry’s record. You need permission to encounter some exotic monstrosities. You need permission to interact with certain classes of Non Prime Citizens. You cannot interact with class one Non Primes more than a handful of times. They cannot be too important to the activity you undertake. The more you interact with a Non Prime, the more they develop, the stronger they grow. The more important they are to your goal, the more powerful they become.”
He sighed again.
“Generally, low class Non Primes are inconsequential. Their limited importance and limited time spent interacting with Prime Citizens means they are not very influential. Class zeroes are just shells wandering around. They do basic things. They remain in the background. Harmless, even when unsupervised. A Prime Citizen can even interact with them for a very short time, as long as it is surface level. However, usually contact with a Prime elevates the class zero to a class one. Still not a problem. Class ones are more fleshed out. Some have names, jobs, hobbies. Likes and dislikes, routines. But they are not influential. However, this changes past this class. Everyone higher than class one needs to be registered in one way or another so we can keep tabs on them, and steer their actions if necessary. So they don’t enact unwanted change and throw everything into chaos! That’s why we have those rules.”
“But you, Oberan, flouted our rules, disregarded them. Through your actions you have created an unregistered class three or four Non Prime Citizen. Too powerful, too important. They know too much. They are too aware of the world at large. They can exert influence on it. We can’t have that. Do you have any idea how much havoc an unregistered class three can cause when they are free to do as they please? They are too dangerous.”
Oberan merely shrugged. “And you gave this lengthy explanation, why? That all sounds like a you problem. Just go eliminate them if they are that much of an issue.”
“We can’t!” Bacon snarled, slamming the table so hard the lantern and glasses jumped up a few centimeters. “Weren’t you listening? They’re unregistered. Off the grid. Untraceable. We are powerless to stop them. Not with conventional methods anyway. No if only it was that simple. If we want to get rid of this wildcard, we have to resort to messing with the time continuum.” His sigh came from deep, deep down his chest. “Which, quite frankly requires way too much paperwork. Of course it does! We’re talking about altering reality here. Rewriting history. Erasing an entire series of events involving you and only you, while making sure the rest of the world is unaffected. It’s no simple feat.”
He paused to take a sip of water, then continued. “So here’s the deal. You’re going to track them down for us. You know what they look like, how they act, where to find them. You will arrest them, drag them to the Registry Office, and will force them to create a full Non Prime Citizen file for themselves. This includes a physical description, a personality record, their background and history, a comprehensive list of all their abilities,… the works. All of it will be submitted for approval via the normal routes, and then we go from there.”
“And if they don’t get approved…?”
“We will have to erase them from the time stream after all. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Oberan smiled not-quite non-apologetically, spread his hands as far as the shackles allowed. “I don’t hear what’s in it for me. Nothing at all, I suspect? Well, then I’m not interested. You need a Prime Citizen to do what you cannot? Go ask someone else.”
“I see I’ve not been making myself as clear as I thought. Allow me to clarify once again: unregistered Non Primes cannot be encountered by Overseers or Prime Citizens, as there is no record of their existence. Those are the rules. Our hands are tied, Overseer or not. However, your blatant disregard of the rules grants us the unique opportunity to do the impossible. You encounter the same unregistered Non Primes more than permitted. You create too powerful unregistered Non Primes. You interact with unregistered Non Primes created by other Primes. You don’t mind to engage in activities and events where a Non Prime takes center stage rather than yourself. It makes you uniquely skilled to hunt down those few unregistered Non Primes too powerful to exist. You alone are capable of it. Do you understand?”
“I understand that you need me, but I don’t need you. Why should I care? Why should I help? Why should I become a dog on your leash?”
“We Overseers aren’t asking, Oberan. It’s a demand.” The metal chair scraped over the floor as Bacon stood, gathered up his folder, tapped it on the table a couple times to line up the pages. “Either you comply, or we will force your body into stasis, revoke your status as a Prime Citizen, boot your soul from the world and remove it from the cycle of death and rebirth. It will no longer be capable of creating a new body and identity. And you, the current you – Oberan, will be a class six Non Prime Citizen, under complete Overseer control. ”
He opened the door, not bothering to cast another glance in Oberan’s direction. “I should think that is sufficient reason to do as you’re told, no? But it’s your choice to make. Think about it, Oberan, and consider whether you’d rather be a dog on a leash, or a helpless puppet sat on a shelf until someone makes it dance.”
The door slammed shut with absolute finality, its sound seemed to echo through the room for a while, as did Bacon's threat. Oberan sank in his chair, rubbed his face, and blew out a long, deep breath.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck…”
