Liberi Reader

Shit, bro, take my name if you want, but you didn't have to steal my entire past!

How dare you slander me! I wrote the entire application myself!

Can you recite it from memory?

H-How am I supposed to pull something I wrote a year ago from memory?

'Oakley, born in Bunkerhill, graduate of Trimounts College of Arts and Science, previously worked as a guide in the Human Development and Technological Inovation Department of the District Convention Center...'

'Innovation' is misspelled.

You! Damn you, if I didn't lose my terminal and CV—

......

......

Your gaze wanders when you speak. Your voice is trembling, and you talk without rhyme or reason.

I doubt Mr. Tannen would want such an 'Oakley' to handle promotion work.

Don't bring Mr. Tannen into this! I tell you—

Shut up!

......

......

Perhaps you need a little time to calm down, 'Mister' Oakley. Come with me to the reception room to rest for a while.

Mr. Tannen, I...

Listen up. I just pulled your activity records from the park here. It won't be hard to figure out just who you are.

One more lie, and I'm throwing you off this plate. It won't matter who you are when you're a puddle on the ground six hundred meters down. You get me?

Now talk. Who are you?

...A guide.

You got balls, I'll give you that.

Th-The kind of guide the tourists need!

My name is Ferne. I-I'm a tour guide.

My apologies, Mr. Oakley. Mr. Tannen will make sure that this matter is dealt with promptly.

Do you believe me now?

Of course. You can reach me through this terminal if you need anything. Now, get some rest. I'll be going.

Alright.

Done.

Read the room and avert potential risks for your boss...

Another rule for secretaries.

You said Oakley got himself drunk a month ago after a breakup, and he gave you his resume instead of his contact info, which gave you a chance to sneak into Propeller Paradise under his identity?

That's right.

Your client was an old Banshee who somehow got lost in the Bleached Wasteland. Her memory was hazy and it was difficult to communicate with her?

Yes.

You suspected that she was ill, and you were asking around under the guise of a guide to make her journey a smooth one, which is why you looked like you were up to something?

Exactly!

You've spent a whole month here. You know this is no ordinary place. If you're a foreign spy, the military take you in for questioning, torture, and you'll never again see the light of day.

If you're an agent from the Department of Defense, D.C. won't let you off the hook. They'll disavow, distort, and even dispose of you, all for the sake of tipping the scales to their side.

If you're a District plant, then you've learned too much, and ATAO taught me plenty of ways to help you 'forget'.

......

But you're just a tour guide who cares for her client. You're a good person.

And Columbia will do good by a good person.

You aren't going to press charges?

Believe me, I'd love to, but too many corporations have noticed your performance at the pre-expo. You'll deal with your problems and get lost before they find out who you are.

The longer you stay, the more I have to compensate the poor guy whose name you stole. If all you want to do is to clear the mind of your Banshee client, I can help.

You know about Banshees?

I know how to solve your problem.

Floating botanical unit connected.

Bioelectrical signal detected. Charging drive unit.

Phew... that's the smoothest these experiments have gone, isn't it?

No, this voice... the short-circuit protection has kicked in.

(In Sarkaz) Unravel.

(In Sarkaz) Unravel!

Hmph.

You shouldn't touch an overloaded converter with your bare hands, Director!

Works better than an incantation. How are the readings?

By exhibition standards, the technology for high-altitude energy transmission through plants is sufficiently mature. By the standards of your expectations for the project, however...

Not good enough. The energy transmission threshold for the floating botanical unit falls short of theoretical values.

That prickly Forte kid would chill out a bit if you said as much to him...

Sky is inexperienced, but he was right about one thing—this Vivarium is Kristen's legacy, and we owe it to her to do our best.

You were always stubborn, going back to when we dug out the S.H.A.F.T. together five years ago.

You pulled all-nighters to ensure its structural integrity, enchanting the core materials with incantations. Nothing could get you to take a break, not even your favorite gummy worms.

If you want to go fincatching, do it at Lake Sulligan. Assuming I approve your leave request, of course.

......

Besides, I worked so many hours just because I was inefficient. I learned to write curses too late. My incantations suffer in strength and precision compared to my kindred, because they rely on sound as the sole medium.

Is that why you modified your bone pen and use hole-punched paper tapes to supplement your casting?

Yes. I took a lot of wrong turns.

Such an efficient programming language, your incantations...

Then, we should make more efficient decisions at this bottleneck, despite the risks.

Do you mean...?

Review the report again. Thank you for your work.

Yes, ma'am.

Hello, this is the Rhine Vivarium Lab.

Hello, Director Lunorey. Mr. Tannen has asked me to express his gratitude at your reasonable accommodation that led to successful cooperation the last time.

There are some follow-up matters to be discussed. Do you have time this afternoon?

Yes.

Excellent. I will see you in the Vivarium in an hour.

......

Ride the ropeway to Flying Donut station, then take the ring corridor...

I'm in the right place, aren't I? It's dark in here. Where's the light...?

Good heavens... wh-where am I?!

Intruder alert, intruder alert.

Activating bio-scan. Analyzing results. Species: Terran. Sex: Male. Threat level: Pending.

A-A talking finbeast?

Mind your words, foolish Terran! I am Space Fin 054. State your Universe ID number, immediately!

Universe ID...?

(Whisper) Your corporate name, nitwit!

Oh, uh, Lucky Cystybeast Food and Beverage.

Ah, so you are the partner that 'Sky Conqueror' was expecting. How unfortunate that I won't get the chance to test my laser cannons.

(Whisper) Don't touch anything. The supervisor will be here momentarily.

Supervisor?

Five-Four, make sure you speak like an extraterrestrial entity next time you do the client explanation thing.

Aye aye, sir.

M-Mr. Tannen?

Shh—don't huff and puff. The polite thing to do when you stand in this collection of unique curiosities, the likes of which you will not find anywhere else in Terra, is to admire it with your eyes.

Look at the wall on your right. Five years ago, I confiscated the possessions of a pioneer trying to illegally cross the border, and found an unusual water circulation and filtration system in his trailer.

He helped me find the core component in exchange for looking the other way. When the unit was assembled, I identified it as a Locus of Sorcery—a Sarkaz witchcraft weapon.

My goodness, it must be dangerous...

Turn around and look behind you. This is a trident Arts unit from Leithanien, created by Witch King cultists who wanted to amplify Arts output so they could rip apart the fabric of reality and summon their master.

Kinda crazy, sure, but its conversion efficiency is fifty times the max allowed by Propeller Paradise regulations. Even an onion could fly with it.

Wait, so you solved One-Boot's technical issues with... contraband?

Contraband? ATAO made up the stupid rule about only using parts made in Columbia!

I don't know and I don't care about the reasons behind the decisions. All I know is that these rules are un-Columbian. They restrict scientists, and force entrepreneurs to lie!

It was a single humble ATAO officer who imported inventions from across Terra into Propeller Paradise, forming the heart and soul of one-third of all levitating facilities here.

One-third... you've run hundreds of smuggling operations without getting exposed?

Every transaction, every deal has gone without a hitch under my management. Not even my secretary Merry knows my secrets.

I... I need time to think about this, Mr. Tannen...

Lucky Cystybeast has one day left, and I got other things on my plate. I'll give you five seconds.

Lucky Cystybeast gets a mongrel heart, or you let it die to your stubborn pride. Choose.