Apocalypse: Fairy System Macronomicon (a book to read txt) 📖

anything written by a sapient. The System translates your bloated monkey hoots into civilized keegan. Or are you telling me you’ve never learned to read?”

Jeb opened his mouth to tell Zlesk that he’d been blacklisted from The System, but realized that line of inquiry would inevitably lead to why…if Zlesk didn’t outright call him a liar. There was no good solution.

Lie without lying.

“There’s a language center in the human brain that, when damaged, can make it impossible to read,” Jeb said.

“And you’re saying you’ve taken damage to those parts of the brain?”

“I’ve taken some hits there,” Jeb said, slumping his shoulders. He’d bonked his head on the left side a few times with the microwave door. Unlikely to cause brain damage, but the statement itself was true.

“Huh,” Zlesk said, taking the paper away from Jeb and beginning to grill Jeb hard, scribbling on the sheet.

“Name?”

“Jeb Trapper.”

“Class?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Level?”

“I made it to level six before the Tutorial ended.”

“Occupation before Earth was assimilated?”

“Retired from the Army.”

“Age?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Age in Pharos years?”

“I don’t know.”

“Difficulty of your Tutorial?”

“It was easy once I figured out the trick,” Jeb said, leaning back in the chair.

At the end of the questions, Zlesk straightened in his chair, handing the papers back. “Alright, here you go. Sign your name if you can, put your thumb print on it if you can’t.”

“I still can sign my name. That’s a strong connection,” Jeb said, signing his name on the line at the bottom of the page before handing it back.

“Huh,” Zlesk grunted, glancing between the paper and Jeb.

“What?”

“I guess you can’t read,” Zlesk said.

“What?”

“You just signed an admission of guilt for several high crimes that are punishable by death. Either you can’t read or you’ve got the best Balqua face I’ve ever seen.”

“WHAT!?” Jeb shouted, hopping to his foot.

“Calm down, calm down, don’t get your panties in a twist. I just had to be sure you weren’t messing with me.” Zlesk slowly pulled out a lighter and lit the paper on fire before tossing it into the metal garbage can beside his desk.

None of the other officers seemed to be surprised at Zlesk’s antics, the flaming trash bin earning no more than a curious glance.

“Now I gotta fill out the whole damn incident report.” Zlesk groaned, pulling out another set of papers.

“Oh, and the young girl dropped by earlier today, said you dropped this bulb during the incident.” Zlesk took a gold coin out of his breast pocket and set it down on the table with a clack.

The two of them shared a glance, and Jeb knew that was the closest thing that he was going to get to an admission that Jeb was the one in the right.

“I was gonna say to the Abyss with it and keep it, but I’d feel bad robbing a retard.”

Jeb felt his eyes tearing up, a tiny flame of hope for keeganity fluttering in his heart. The girl had done right by him, and Zlesk... Zlesk had chosen not to screw him over...in a backhanded kind of way.

“You’re not as evil as I thought you were,” Jeb said, wiping the tears away.

“Ugh. Just for that, I’m adding that you’ve got priors as a sex offender,” the keegan said, scribbling on the paper.

“Are we…bantering?”

The keegan raised an eyebrow and flipped the incident report to face Jeb, roughly half the boxes filled out with squiggly, indecipherable lines.

“You tell me.”

Jeb broke into a cold sweat.

***Later***

“So I might be a registered sex offender on an alien planet.” Jeb chuckled, nursing his beer at the bar of the only place in town that served humans. It was a bit run-down, and the clientele were mostly scarred bruisers who could twist Jeb into a pretzel, but it was the only place to get a drink, so here he was.

“You’re not registered as a sex offender,” the grizzled man sitting next to him said, the first words he’d spoken since Jeb sat down and started pouring his heart out to the unflinching bartender.

Closest thing to a therapist in these parts, anyway.

“Why, were you there?” Jeb asked, scowling as he reoriented on the skinny old guy.

“A man who would fuck you over on a whim would have kept the bulb,” the old man said, glancing at Jeb sideways.

Jeb nodded. “Fair point. Hey, why do they call gold coins ‘bulbs’?”

“Why do we call dollars ‘bucks’?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“There you go. So what are you planning on doing with your newfound windfall?”

“I thought I’d help others with it,” Jeb said, spinning the cup in his hands.

“Oh?” The skinny old man’s brows rose and he turned to fully face Jeb. He crossed his palms and idly tugged on his wedding ring.

“By supporting the local economy. Buy myself a shower, a change of clothes, and a night with a girl with negotiable virtue.”

The old man blinked and heaved a sigh. “That’s it?” he asked. “All you want is a change of clothes and company? You don’t want to start a business, or get a ticket out of here? Move to an all-human village and try to make something of yourself?”

“Pfft.” Jeb waved the man’s nagging off. “In all likelihood, umm…” Jeb snapped his fingers and motioned to the other guy, looking for his name.

“Nixus.”

“In all likelihood, Nixus,” Jeb said, the alcohol forcing him to lean heavily on his elbow to stay straight. “In all likelihood, I’m not gonna live long enough to worry about any of that. I’m a gimp. Worrying about the future is more appropriate for people under the age of thirty with two good legs. My way, the gold goes back into circulation, I get one good day. Everybody benefits.”

“If you only act for selfish motives,