“But you did once?”
“Once,” Cipher confirms. “A long time ago.”
He doesn’t add anything else.
“Care to explain more?” I ask. But he remains quiet. “Fine. Point taken,” I grumble. “So, what exactly do we have to do here? You said we’re a Tier Zero. How do we level up again?”
“By gaining XP,” Cipher answers immediately, falling into his frustratingly formal speech pattern. “You must reach only one hundred XP to become a Tier One. At that point, you may select your Glitch.”
“My Glitch?” I repeat.
“Bastard sure is talking to you a lot,” Locke grumbles. “He straight up just gave me a list of rules to read and checked out after the initial introduction.”
I blink at him. “He’s not talking to you?”
“Not since we got here,” he shrugs.
“I don’t waste my time speaking to those who will not make it out of the Harrow alive,” Cipher says, and it’s clear that he said it only to me. His words surprise me and I immediately look away from Locke, so he can’t see my expression.
“What do you mean?” I ask softly.
Cipher hums. I’ve gathered that Cipher is a machine rather than a human, but as he takes the time to answer, I realize he feels just as human as I do. It’s a strange thing to imagine, about a human machine.
“I am in your heads, Vespera. I see personalities and memories unless I am shut out. Everything from what makes you tick to what makes you yearn. I can see who is made to survive and who is destined to fail.” He takes a deep breath. “You will take your time selecting your Glitch, as you will understand the class selection will carry you through The Harrow. When you see his methods in contrast, you will understand.”
Locke is staring at me now with a raised brow. “That bastard talking trash about me or something?”
I shake my head too quickly. “He was just explaining how the Glitches work.”
Locke doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push the issue. I don’t think he much cares what the system thinks of him. He opens his map and studies it.
“It looks like there’s some sort of structure in that direction,” he says, pointing. “I don’t know what it is, but we can check it out. If you want.”
Shrugging, we start to walk in the direction he’d pointed. Neither one of us seems to know what we’re doing and Cipher isn’t super forthcoming unless I ask a direct question. I want to ask him about the Glitches, but I already told Locke the lie earlier to avoid hurting his feelings, so I’m stuck wondering what the fuck a Glitch is and how I need to choose it.
The first thing I notice about the Verdant Nexus after how green and healthy everything looks is the heat. It’s sweltering in a way vastly different from Dross and sweat beads on my skin almost immediately. The air is heavy with moisture, so thick that I can feel it in my lungs. But it doesn’t burn, not like in Dross. If anything, it’s almost . . . relieving. I’d been wearing a jacket when I came in, threadbare and old. While it was always hot in Dross, it was more of a dry heat, not like this moist hell. Here, everything is humid and damp. Even the plants look like they’re sweating. I shrug off my coat and clench it in my fist for a second before I hold it out in front of me.
I stare at it and say, “Inventory.”
The jacket disappears. My eyes widen before I tap the metal in my arm and open the squares. There is a small picture of my jacket all spread out in the first square.
“Whoa,” I say, looking around. When I see a stick, I grab it up and try it again.
“Inventory.” The stick disappears. “Holy shit! Have you tried this?”
Locke stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “The space is limited, Vesper. And you just put a stick in there.”
“I might need the stick,” I argue. “You don’t know what to expect. If I can put it in there, it must be useful somehow.”
“Once you have reached a certain level of XP for your Glitch, crafting may be available to you,” Cipher adds helpfully.
“See. Cipher knows,” I say.
Locke looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here right now. “If you and the system are going to fuck, can you at least give me a warning first.”
I frown. “What?”
“Just seems like you two are awfully cozy already,” Locke grumbles. “I don’t—” He cuts off to smack at his arm. “Ow! Something bit me!”
