Chris's mind was a high-speed pile-up of screaming thoughts. The glorious, golden level-up notification was still seared into his vision, a triumphant, terrifying afterimage.
[Congratulations! You have reached LVL 2!]
He needed to escape. He needed a quiet place to reboot his own brain.
Seizing the opportunity, Chris turned and fled the kitchen, leaving Pete to contemplate his crossword puzzle. He retreated into the quiet living room, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He sank onto the edge of the couch, his body trembling slightly.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. The level-up notification was gone, but in its place, something new and persistent had appeared. In the top left corner of his vision, faint but clear, was a minimalist Heads-Up-Display. It was rendered in the same cool white font as the previous notifications.
[LVL 2]
[XP: 10/200]
[EP: 1.99/2.00]
He stared at the data, his panic slowly beginning to subside, replaced by a gamer's analytical focus. He understood this. This was a language he knew better than English. Level 2. Ten experience points earned out of the two hundred he needed for the next level. The "Observe" quest had been worth exactly ten XP.
And the EP... Energy Points? Essence Points? It had to be his resource pool. His mana. He thought back to the prompt for the coffee.
[Requires: 0.01 EP]
He looked at the number in his HUD again. 1.99/2.00. It all clicked into place. He had started with two full points of this energy, and wishing the coffee hot had cost him a hundredth of a point. The system was internally consistent. It had rules. It had costs.
His eyes darted around the living room, a space he had seen every day for most of his life, but he was now seeing it through a completely new filter. It wasn't just a room anymore. It was a zone. An environment. A place filled with interactive objects.
His gaze landed on a lump of gray and black fur curled up on the rug in a patch of sunlight. Buddy. The family cat. A three-year-old tabby whose life consisted of a grueling schedule of sleeping, eating, demanding to be let out, and then immediately demanding to be let back in. He was the perfect, low-stakes test subject.
The tutorial quest had been to "Observe Your Environment." The coffee incident had been an accident, a stray thought. What would happen if he tried to observe something on purpose?
With a deliberate, focused intent, Chris narrowed his eyes and stared at the sleeping cat. He didn't just look at Buddy; he focused on him, pouring all of his concentration into the act of observation, as if he were trying to select a unit with a mouse cursor.
For a second, nothing happened. Then, a small, blue, circular progress bar appeared in his vision, superimposed over the cat's furry body. It filled quickly, the circle completing itself in less than two seconds with a soft, internal whoosh.
A new window popped open. It was the same translucent blue, the same clean white text.
[Name: Buddy (Felis catus)]
[LVL 4]
[HP: 85/100]
[Status: Dreaming (Stalking a particularly large squirrel)]
[Relationship to User: Somewhat-Loyal Companion]
Chris's jaw went slack. He stared, utterly dumbfounded, at the data floating in the air. The cat had a level. Level 4. He was twice Chris's level. The cat had a hit point bar. He wasn't even at full health. Had he gotten into a scrap with another cat? And the status... dreaming about a squirrel. The System could see his dreams.
But it was the last line that truly broke his brain. Relationship to User: Somewhat-Loyal Companion. The sheer, passive-aggressive absurdity of that description was breathtaking. Buddy wasn't a "Faithful Friend" or a "Beloved Pet." He was "Somewhat-Loyal." It was probably the most accurate description of their relationship possible. Buddy was loyal as long as the food bowl was full and no one else was offering a better place to nap. The System wasn't just a clinical observer; it was brutally honest.
A giddy, frantic energy seized Chris, chasing away the last dregs of his fear. This was it. This was the core function. The "Observe" quest hadn't just been a quest; it had been a tutorial for this ability. An ability he now thought of with a proper name, a name lifted from a thousand different games.
This was:
[INSPECT]
The world had transformed. A moment ago, it was a familiar, boring collection of furniture and objects. Now, it was a boundless, shimmering sea of untapped data, and he was the only one with the password. A manic grin spread across his face. He felt a desperate, burning need to know more. To scan everything.
He launched himself into a systematic, if slightly manic, sweep of the living room. His eyes, now potent scanners, darted from one object to the next. He focused on the ugly ceramic lamp on the end table next to the couch, a monstrosity Misty had bought on clearance.
Ding. The scan was almost instantaneous for a simple, inanimate object.
[Object: Table Lamp]
[Origin: Walmart, 2011]
[Condition: Functional]
[Dust Level: Excessive]
Chris snorted. Excessive. The System was throwing shade on their housekeeping. He made a mental note to maybe run a dust cloth over it later. Or not. The slight editorial judgment was hilarious. This wasn't some dry, emotionless machine. It had a personality. A very, very dry one.
Next, his gaze swept upwards, to the mantelpiece above the fireplace. He focused on a framed photograph. It was a picture of him and his younger sister, Carlye, taken years ago. They were teenagers, both awkward and grinning. He held his focus. The blue circle filled.
Ding.
[Object: Framed Photograph]
[Subject: Christopher Day, Carlye Day]
[Date Created: June, 2010]
[Emotional Resonance: High (Nostalgia, Minor Regret)]
The words hit him with an unexpected force. Emotional Resonance: High. He felt a genuine pang in his chest, a warmth spreading through him as he remembered that day, the feeling of the sun on his skin, the rare, uncomplicated camaraderie he'd shared with his sister. But then his eyes caught the last part. (Nostalgia, Minor Regret).
The "Minor Regret" sent a shiver down his spine. It was true. He hadn't spoken to Carlye in almost a week. She was busy with her job, with her own life. He was busy with... well, he wasn't busy. He just let the time slip by. The regret was a small, quiet thing he rarely acknowledged, but the System had seen it, quantified it, and displayed it back to him in a sterile font. This was more than just a scanner. It didn't just see objects; it saw the meaning people attached to them. Fascinating.
He needed more data. He turned and marched back into the kitchen, which now felt less like a place for making food and more like a laboratory. Pete was gone, having retreated to the living room with his coffee. Chris had the room to himself.
He strode to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. The familiar sight of condiment bottles, Tupperware containers, and vegetable drawers greeted him, but now it was a treasure trove of potential targets. He focused on a glass dish containing the remains of the night before last's dinner.
Ding.
[Item: Misty's Meatloaf (2 Days Old)]
[Nutritional Value: 250 Calories per slice]
[Primary Component: Ground Beef (70%), Breadcrumbs (30%)]
[System Note: Tastes better than nutritional stats would indicate.]
Chris let out a short, hysterical laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. The System was a food critic! The deadpan delivery of the System Note was perfect. He could almost hear the dry, bureaucratic tone. It was like getting a food review from the universe's most unenthusiastic IT guy.
His eyes, wide with manic glee, landed on a carton of milk on the top shelf. He focused.
Ding.
[Item: 2% Milk]
[Condition: Fresh]
[Expiration Date: June 27, 2025]
[Warning: Item will be finished by Pete Woody within 24 hours.]
Chris froze, his hand hovering over the milk carton. He stared at the last line. A warning. The System wasn't just seeing the present state of the milk. It was making a prediction based on past data. Pete's milk-drinking habits were apparently so consistent that the System could forecast the carton's demise with enough certainty to issue a formal warning. This was another stunning revelation. It wasn't just an encyclopedia; it was an oracle. A petty, small-stakes oracle concerned with dairy consumption.
A sound from the living room pulled him from his reverie. It was the familiar, indistinct murmur of a television news program. Pete had found the remote.
This was it. The ultimate test.
Chris closed the refrigerator door as quietly as he could and crept back to the doorway of the living room. He peeked around the corner. Pete was on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table, sipping his coffee and frowning at the TV screen.
Chris's heart began to beat faster. Inspecting a cat or a lamp was one thing. But inspecting a person... a complex, thinking, high-level human being? What would he see?
He pretended to be looking at the bookshelf next to the doorway, his eyes tracing the spines of Misty's romance novels. But secretly, he focused all his intent on his step-father.
The blue progress circle appeared over Pete's head. It filled much, much slower this time. It took a full three seconds, an eternity compared to the instant scans of the inanimate objects. And as it filled, he felt something. A tiny, almost imperceptible drain of energy. He glanced at his HUD. The number had changed.
[EP: 1.98/2.00]
It had cost him another 0.01 EP. The same as the coffee. Scanning a complex, living human was clearly more intensive. The circle completed. Ding.
The window that opened in his vision was far more detailed than any he had seen before. It was packed with information.
[Name: Peter "Pete" Woody]
[LVL 28]
[Status: Annoyed, Searching]
[Current Mood: Frustrated (Minor)]
[Dominant Thought: "I swear that remote has legs. Maybe Misty moved it again."]
[Relationship to User: Step-Father (Tolerant)]
Chris's brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Pete was Level 28. Twenty-six levels higher than him. The power gap was immense. It was the kind of level difference that, in Vexlorn, meant you didn't even engage. You just ran.
The Status and Mood were uncannily accurate. Pete did look annoyed. And the Dominant Thought... it was like a direct peek into his step-father's brain. Chris's eyes darted to the sofa cushions. He could just see the black corner of the remote sticking out from between two of them. The System was right.
But it was the Relationship stat that hit him the hardest. Step-Father (Tolerant). Not loving. Not caring. Tolerant. It was a cold, clinical, and brutally honest assessment of their entire relationship. Pete didn't hate him, but he didn't particularly like him either. He just... put up with him. To see it written out, quantified by a cosmic System, was profoundly strange and oddly liberating. It was the truth, stripped of all sentimentality.
As if on cue, Pete grumbled, shifted his weight, and jammed his hand between the sofa cushions. He pulled out the remote with a triumphant grunt. "Aha! Knew it." He clicked on the TV, flipping through channels, completely and utterly oblivious to the fact that Chris had just performed a deep-level data scan on his entire being.
The secret was intoxicating. He had a power Pete couldn't even comprehend. He knew his step-father's level, his mood, even his fleeting thoughts. He was no longer just the step-son; he was an information broker.
Just then, Misty entered the living room from the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Anyone thinking about lunch?" she asked, her voice cheerful.
As she spoke, Chris's new power acted on instinct. His focus shifted to his mother, the ability triggering almost automatically.
[INSPECT]
The blue circle began to fill over her head. A new data window started to generate in his vision.
[Name: Misty Woody]
[LVL 32]
[Status: Concerned...]
[Relationship to User: Mother]
The scene froze in his mind. Pete on the couch, channel surfing, a known quantity, a Level 28 whose thoughts were an open book. Misty by the door, a Level 32, her own data stream opening up before him, her primary status a reflection of her worry for him.
He was no longer just a resident of this house. He was the sole possessor of a secret, all-seeing eye. He could see their levels, their stats, the very thoughts in their heads.
The power was absolutely glorious. The possibilities were endless.