Disrupting the system (Short story)

The following is an extract from Bertrout “Foursides” Greatbow’s transcriptiary, annotated by Baron Laius Popgun.

## Chapter 1: Bertrout’s tragedy

The training area is damp, but it fills its purpose, I thought, and it sure beats the clinical ambiance of the usual classrooms our cohort is used to. Today is weapons training and usage, a pretty bland name that perfectly encapsulates the act of disassembling and reassembling weapons for hours on end in various contexts. I can’t complain though, if i’m to be an effective mortar operator during my service, learning the construction method of my multi barreled sidearm during a mortar shelling is paramount.

That seems to be Instructor Clanshead’s idea as well as he is shouting in a slightly more joyous tone than usual.

“Recruits! Shut up! Greatbow! Shut up! I want the five first alphabetical Dal here by the faith of my pocket watch disassembling their chemical ballistic weapon in 40 seconds before running the full course. Meanwhile the rest of you run the course. When your weapons are assembled I want the rest of you to fire your weapons on blank at the sky to simulate active combat situations. When the five first start, the next five will follow alphabetically, am I clear?” a resounding “Aye!” came from the cohort. “Then get to it!”

The effect is immediate. The sound of gunfire is perturbing enough that the babe of the group Borva is shaking so hard his bullets are falling to the ground, earning him the glare of the Instructor. As soon as I finish taking my weapon apart I bolt for the course just behind Aelsson and Charu. First comes a rope climb, then a jump dock and a short track race, before a crawl under razor wire for a good twenty meters. When I finally get to the finish line, the first two are already finishing their reassembly and I follow suit. Aelsson smirks at me and says. “Betrout! For your blank expression”.

All I hear however, is the resounding bang as the world goes blank and the instructor yells something.

As I emerge strange shapes like worms dance before my eyes as the ambulants carry me away. Through the haze I see the Instructor is giving Aelsson the beating of his life while detailing the intrinsic difference between an empty weapon and a weapon filled with blanks.

Four vehicles from four different government agencies are also here to bring me to the nearest Medbay. The other recruits carry me from the wet ground to the transport while the others quietly, but surely attempt to interpose themselves in between the Instructor and Aelsson.

The transport goes off and I exchange a few last words with the ambulant, Fregar, who regails me with tales of his service and how exercises have become much more technical and deadly than in his time.

We arrive at the facility, with its now standard four entrance system for cases like mine. The building itself is no architectural folly, of stone and oak with the tall and slim window openings the Domain border region is known for. Once inside i see that the other shuffling patients all head to the greeters desk before being redirected to their rooms.

Fregar guides me to the greeter, named Tallthane, who directs me to a room to await the technician in charge of my situation. I thank Fregar for his help before making my way to the dedicated wing for my case.

## Chapter 2: The soul called Trout

As immaterial as the accident felt to me, I must say I'm flattened by the efficiency with which the care facility found me a waiting room where I await the technician, a certain Lustol Plateforge. The room itself is nothing to look at, a wooden desk with a chair for the technician, a chair for the patient, a few freshly printed charts detailing my condition (feeding, powers and fading on the wall, its merits and its flaws which we all learn in class and was purely redundant in this case.

After a few minutes I decide to get in the chair which I didn't expect to feel so strange, the sensation isn’t disturbing or uncomfortable, quite the contrary. It feels as though I simply got into the chair and nothing in the world could bother me out of it, as though some part of me simply wanted to stay in the furniture for an extended period of time.

After a few more minutes however I become slightly bored at the technician's tardiness, although I hardly want to go back to my classes after the incident. I take to simply rocking my chair to and fro, twirling it around while on one leg like a drunk danser. In my amusement I continue this exercise, even hopping around and even managing to land the chair and me on top of the technician's desk.

“Having fun?” Says the technician from the door. “You seem to be adapting quite nicely to your condition.” he adds simply and sits behind his desk.

“Now that you’re doing the basics lets see what else you can do.'' He proceeds to make me do dozens of exercises, moving a pen on his desk, on the floor, into the walls, disassembling it, reassembling it and moving the writing tool in all manner of ways and forms.

He seems satisfied with what I can do so we move onto more complex objects, getting on the rug, rolling it up, moving it around the room as gracefully as I could before finally folding it. Before he lets me get out of the folded rug he says, “Now open and close the corners as though it were a mouth, and recite the alphabet.”. I find this exercise difficult but as Plateforge continues to encourage me, it becomes easier and after a while I can talk again with very little difficulty while using the rug.

Plateforge then gives me the standard information about my condition which is tedious at best as they teach about these kinds of things in school, but I take note that for those who still owe time of service, military employment is still a possibility for poor souls like me. This surprises me a little as the Saint of Eve and the Domain's politics are traditionally opposed to a standardised military, and even more so to the silent majority, which I now realize, I am part of.

Lustol then tells me to get out of the rug, which I am reluctant to do as I know that once I do, the need to use an object, any object as my vessel would make itself known. Plateforge apparently sensed my discontent and goes out of the office, and returns with a chair. “You can use this to get you to the next office.” I comply and, using the techniques he made me use, make my way with the chair to the next office with Plateforge in tow.

## Chapter 3: Bertros’ pale as a ghost

The office I come to had the door open so I simply walk in, the room was as simply furnished as is the case with most facilities of the same type, a carpet, a desk for the technician and chairs.

The first thing I notice is the cold, which was only mildly noticeable when they took me to the vehicle, was now bitter and uncomfortable. This was not helped by the room that seems decidedly drab and dull, a quick glance at the heating unit indicates the temperature should be adequate for this time of year, so I turn the heat up a little bit. After all, no point in the technician being cold just because of petty politeness.

After turning the knob I notice that my hands have turned from pink to gray and translucent, yet another effect of my condition as a ghost, or simply from the coldness of the room. I think nothing of it, after all we’ve had classes on the subject so it’s probably best that I simply make due with my current state.

But on the other hand these are my hands after all, and I'm not certain that I was ready for my sudden transition. But then again who is? I find myself asking as being part of the silent majority did have its perks, as I had just demonstrated by turning the heat up from the other side of the room.

After a few minutes of waiting it has become apparent that I will have to wait for a good long while for the technician to show up so I decide to step out of the room for a while, to go for a short trip in the corridor.

As I try to leave it seems the door has closed, leaving me inside all on my own, and it seems I cannot open it nor push past the walls to let me through.

This must mean that my powers are not as developed as I believed, or else I then remark that this facility must be used to receiving people with my condition. As such they probably proofed the door and the walls to avoid having people like myself running around the facility unsupervised.

“There are probably a lot of stories behind this decision” I tell myself before at last the technician makes his entrance.

Relieved to have some company at last, I turn to face her.

“Good day” I tell her, and I notice my voice is extremely raspy, like a rough spring wind.

She notices my reaction and smiled mischievously.

“Don’t worry” she says, “it will take some getting used to, but that is your voice from now on”. As she walks right through me and sits at her desk she remarks.

“It's very warm in here isn’t it?” I was surprised at her answer as it still felt very cold in the room to me. She leans unto the heating unit “No wonder, its been put to thirty degrees! Did you tamper with this?” She asks me as she turns around a bit cross, but her expression quickly falters “Of course I understand that you feel cold, but i’m afraid that has nothing to do with the temperature, but we’ll find a way to make you more comfortable.” to take the edge off her sharp words she adds on the tone of confidence. “Between us, this waiting room is a bit of a problem, it's meant to hold people whose condition makes them feel cold, and we can’t clear the air because there are no windows in these rooms!”

She then makes me do some elementary exercises by moving several objects at once and once she is satisfied with my work, accompanies me to the next room.

## Chapter 4: Ert’s free spirit

As soon as I enter the room the sight of the technician already there surprises me and I immediately present myself.

“Basedalmer Bertrout Greatbrow at your command!”

As I blurt out the over drilled presentation I notice that the technician is saying something and I apologise and cease speaking.

The technician doesn’t answer me, and as he stares at me I tentatively ask “and you are?” once again the technician seems to talk precisely at the same time as me.

Sensing the embarrassment of the situation I back up from the desk and the technician smiles at me.

“I see that you were not expecting your abilities to trigger so easily, but do not worry, you will get used to them if you are patient.”

The technician (second class Bemdeak Bronzeforged as her plaque reads) then proceeds to explain the details of my condition and what can be expected in the future as my spiritual power develops, I must admit I'm not really paying attention as Bemdeak seems to be staring at the door or the walls behind me but never at me. She never makes eye contact.

Due to this I quickly lose interest in what she says, sometimes catching bits and pieces of terms and words such as “until contact is made with another organic person” “limited to the world's atmosphere at 160 kilometres” “total dissolution is possible” and  “life expectancy is linked to the subject's initial health”.

Eventually I am sharply brought back to reality when Bronzeforged tells me to “take control Greatbrow, then you’ll see all you can do” what she means exactly is strange, but this is hardly all on me as she starts making truly strange faces that convey a sense of confusion and malaise at the situation.

After a few seconds of genuine embarrassment Bronzeforged makes she seems to get ahold of herself.

“Calm down Bertrout, calm down, you have to let me do some of these things so that we can work on your condition.”

I take offence at her remark given her strange antics and I begin to make her leave.

“That's enough Basedal!” she says with such authority that I freeze on the spot.

“Our policy is to leave you with a measure of freedom to use your powers in order for you to get your bearings but forceful behaviour will not be tolerated, now stay here and calm yourself. When you are ready to act like a citizen you may go to the next room.”

And she leaves, leaving me in the room. In retrospect it wasn’t a very well thought out reaction, these technicians were undoubtedly used to patients like me trying to abuse their powers at the first occasion, I will have to be more careful further on.

“I’ll play along for now.” I tell myself, and after following Bemdeaks counsel I collect myself and proceed to the office opposite hers.

## Chapter 5: Bert’s corpse

With all the excitement of what had happened today it felt good to come into the office. As the technician isn’t here yet I simply collapse into the chair opposite his desk and try to make sense of what has happened to me.

As the drill sergeant once said, if you’re confused, focus on what you know of the situation you’re in and react accordingly.” The tactic is more for intense combat situations, which, I muse, is exactly what got me into this situation.

And so I compile the elements that I know; I got hit by the blast of a blank shot weapon right to the face; I am now in a facility dedicated to people in my situation; I am now part of the silent majority; I am in no immediate threat; I am to receive new information soon.

Though basic, the method is calming me down slightly and I manage to relax my muscles. But as I put my head into my hands the horror sets right back in.

What is wrong with my hands? Their usual pinkish hue is replaced with by a sickly pale, almost translucent shade of green. My veins are very apparent and snake through my flesh like light purple rivers in an ocean of kelp. The tendons from the base of my wrists sharply contrast with the rest of my hands, disappearing at the base of my fingers who end with my fingernails.

Truly this was the worst of fates for my experience, as no help could be found in this cruel cell that the office had become. Was I to leave and face my fate courageously and alone? To simply waste away as my body betrayed me slowly but surely, cell by cell, bone by bone. To continue as a husk until my soles no longer supported my feet. Would I be reduced to crawling until my arms abandon me as well? Leaving me to wriggle and writhe like the insects that would inevitably find host upon my body to feed themselves and lay their young.

Or would I be saved? Would the supposed “kind heart of Empire” find it within its graces to grant me the tools and machines to allow me to continue to live and love as I had done before my fateful incident? Hardly. The Empire suffers not fools and certainly not those whose fate was determined by the imbecility of a recruit in training. Damn you Aelsson! May you be sentenced to the catapult and may the unknown gray lands take you whole.

The grey lands; grey, damp and sickly, just like my hands, hands I no longer recognize as my own.

The reminder of my state brings me back to reality as fast as I had left it, I realise just how hungry I am as the door from which I came finally opens and the technician comes in.

“So sorry to have kept you waiting Basedal, I'm afraid we’ll have to go directly to the next office if you would please follow me.”.

Relieved at the opportunity to skip the arduous reading of my situation as a corpse and the rights it entailed, I follow the technician to the next room.

“Normally during this part I have to explain all the risks and details of your future life, becoming a skeleton, mummification, vampirization and so forth. But I'm sure that you learned all of this in school” which i did.

## Chapter 6: A soul bared

Why I was allowed to take the chair to the next room was quickly answered as the room I entered had none on my side of the desk. The technician is already waiting for me, “Hello, why don’t you put the chair there and get comfortable, we have a lot of things to go through i’m afraid before you can be released”.

He then embarks on reciting the same facts that everyone knows about Department of rogue undead management, its missions and its military branch, Biohazard Assessment Team, the dangers of bioweapons, feralism and all the things the DRUM does to make the Empire a better place. My attention returns briefly as the numbers he gives me contradict what I had learned in school, something about 98% of the population being infected in 6 months because of some Troglodyte in the far east.

When he reaches the point where he talks about the Undead police force I return to my daydreaming, questioning how one person can be so unmotivated by his job that he makes Exorcism and Intracism issues boring.

When he finally reaches the end of the reasons the UPF are in charge of the “maintaining of peaceful relations within the silent majority and other communities”.

I suddenly come back to myself when I notice that he is actually looking right at my chair when he mentions crime and the usage of Soul Containers to capture incorporeal forms such as myself. I feel a chill at the mention of the cruel looking devices that I realize are pictured on the walls of his office.

He finally ends by showing me leaflets that detail how to enlist to the different branches of police and military open to people in my condition. And I realize that he has come to the point where he actually expects a response from me.

“Duly noted, I would be interested in some of these options, but I was thinking of reconverting myself to equipment production and logistics. If I can be attached to a knights expeditionary as a swordsquire, I'd consider it a good start for my career given my condition.” this was a lie of course, but in my hurry to get away from the dreadful press ganger, it was the best option. Say no, but give an answer that still sounds militaristic to please the man in case he’s a raging expansionist who would send you off to “rip the east from the Troglodyte”. He nodded, “If there are no further questions, you may proceed to the next room, however you must leave the chair here.”. As I rose from the chair, I felt uneasy and very unhappy, it was an excellent chair after all.

## Chapter 7: Bert’s frightful meal

Just as I was about to open the door the technician suddenly made a sign to be quiet and asked me in Tacsilan “are you hungry? How do you feel?” unsure of why she was signing instead of speaking, I followed suit, answering in the language the army had taught me “A bit, why?”.

“You’ll see” she signed with an odd smile.

She crept into the room, and I followed and immediately understood what was going to happen. The second technician, Thikrulda Kragfall, was fast asleep on her desk and on her desk were some paper bags. My technician, who I realized had never asked her name, promptly took the bag, instructed me to stand before the desk before filling the bag with air. She then popped the bag with her hands with a loud bang that awoke Kragfall with a scream. Kragfall then turned around frantically and began shouting “Grodrobelle Flintheart! For the last time you are supposed to shake me awake when a new patient arrives, those bags are for cleaning ectoplasm!”.

Whether Grodrobelle heard this or not is a mystery, as she was giggling out the door when the angry tirade came out. “Right,” grumbled Kragfall, “do you feel hungry?” she asked and to my surprise, I did not anymore. “Good, then I wasn’t awoken for nothing” she said after I nodded, “now we are going to do some more exercises now that you are fed”. She then proceeds to make me lift a bunch of objects in the room. As a joke, I try to turn a bag into a balloon animal, which failed.

The exercises are grueling and I find that there are puddles forming at my feet. Embarrassed, I stopped the exercise, “don’t stop” says Kragfall, “just use the bags on the table to collect it, the unpopped ones” she added darkly. After a while, she seemed satisfied and instructed me to go meet the Necromancer in the next room. After waiting a while in the corridor, I have a doubt, and I go back into the office. Peeking inside I see that Grodobelle is now at the desk, fast asleep, and has poked holes in all the ectoplasm bags on the desk. Amused, I continue on to the Mancers office.

## Chapter 8: All together now

Once inside, I find there are many other people there, all seemingly waiting for the Mancer, when he finally comes forth.

Since this morning there seems to be a blockage going on in the post mortem system, but now it seems I have found out exactly why!” said the Mancer cheerfully. He scans the room and exclaims “Well then, that's a lot of you isn’t it? Bertrout you are now four different things! A zombie, a spirit, a ghost and a soul! Not many people manage this but you sure did. So! What will we call each one of you? Bert? Trout? Bertro? Ert? You’ll have to find all of this out, but in the meantime I'm sure you’ll all be wonderful additions to the undead silent majority of the Empire.”

Once outside the necromancers office, we have a gleeful conversation about what to do now. We all explain our plans, the military, exploring the wilds, adventuring, starting a chair shop, starting a fear extraction factory. We all spoke quickly and assuredly, excited to begin our afterlife.

1. ↑ Since the Dalmer have little knowledge of healthcare, their medbays (hospitals) are their major health dispensaries.
2. ↑ From Bertrout's perspective, it would indeed be four entrance's, but in reality there can be up to eight.
3. ↑ The Domain is a loosely held overseas territory of the Empire.
4. ↑ These usual detail feeding requirements, how to haunt objects and the risks of fading to the patient.
5. ↑ The presumed head of state of the Domain.
6. ↑ Dalmer warriors who are free to roam the Empire with little to no oversight.
7. ↑ At the time of writing, the feral undead plague, under the command of the Troglodyte god was raging across the oriental coasts of the Empire.
8. ↑ Tactical sign language, used profusely by the Dalmer where silence is necessary.
9. ↑ In Dalmer culture, necromancers are medical practitioners that operate exclusively on the undead.