Dungeon 42

Schrodinger’s Trolly

Chapter 5

When my senses cleared, I was sitting in a comfy chair at the foot of a mountain range. Before me stretched what seemed like an endless desert punctuated by wind-sculpted stone. Above that sea of sand, three moons glowed.

I stared up at the sight, uncertain of how to feel. The joke in sci-fi movies was to show two suns in the sky to make any random stretch of desert an alien world. What I was looking at wasn't a cheap image edit. They were celestial bodies with distinct appearances.

The largest moon was a familiar silvery blue-grey but smooth and full. Smaller and seemingly further away was the more pitted yellow one showing half its face. The last one was a washed-out pink crescent.

I didn't know what to make of the moons being in different phases. That I was more confused by that than the fact there were three was selective attention at its finest. All I knew for sure was that it was a gorgeous view, in a lonely way.

I didn't have the heart to appreciate it. I'd just remembered; there was a question I'd forgotten about.

"Who was the third person I killed?" I asked aloud to the sand and stones around me. The first thing I'd heard the Hood say was my praise for my kill count, which was three people. It didn't make sense. People had been nearby, but I hadn't hit anyone when I crashed.

"Eric Rashad, age 75. He died of a heart attack when your car stopped only inches from him," the Hood whispered in my ear. It sent a not entirely unpleasant shiver down my spine. A bass thrill that did nothing to stop me from looking for the source in a panic.

"You received a bonus since he didn't have a history of heart disease," he continued. I looked around but found I was utterly alone still.

"Th-thanks," I said, nodding as I tried not to shit in my comfy chair. If the voice was purely in my head, that would have been one thing. Instead, it had felt like he was leaning down above my shoulder. That added touch of the physical had been unnerving in the extreme.

"You're welcome. In keeping with my promise, you were assigned two weeks until the year's end," the Hood explained. In the corner of my vision, a countdown appeared.

"I enjoyed our chat. Text me any time if you have a question. Or just want to talk," the Hood added cheerfully in my mind before hanging up with an audible click. I scrubbed my face with my hands and let out a groan of frustrated misery.

I didn't bother moving from where I'd been placed for an hour. I'd accepted that I killed my passenger already. That guy could go fuck himself with a knife.

Knowing I was responsible for another death was different. Eric Rashad was an absolute stranger. I knew nothing about him and hadn't meant him any harm. Yet, he'd still died because of my actions.

I sighed and scrubbed my face with my hands again but didn't feel much. I didn't worry about the lack of sensation. I had to be in some form of shock.

Running the situation through my head on repeat, it played out like a reverse of the trolly problem. I'd chosen to try to save multiple lives, and it had cost a stranger his. Now that I couldn't change anything, did I feel like a monster?

The short answer was no. Even if I'd seen Eric, I'd still have done it. At least going by the description. I hadn't hit him but scared him to death. It was shitty, but I couldn't have predicted that.

Another question posed wasn't as easy to answer. Would I have done the same thing if it did require hitting someone?

Ultimately I wasn't sure. It felt like I could if needed, but I doubted I'd make the decision in time. Swerving into a pole was a more straightforward bit of ethical math than hitting someone. It occurred to me it was odd that I was thinking about it in such depth.

I was rational. That wasn't likely a likely turn of events, not if my mind were normal. I was contemplating the fact I'd committed manslaughter, not comparing paint colors. The systems suppression still had to be in effect.

"Shiii-" I started to swear but stopped short.

"What the fuck?" I said, shocked by my voice. I'd been too surprised by the Hood answering me before to register it. Now I had the distinct displeasure of hearing it. It was an inhuman whisper of opposing ranges. Not a single voice but as if two women were speaking in sync.

"Do Re Mi Fa-" I started to sing only to stop. The sound of my attempt at singing weirding me out too much.

I made a secondary discovery when I brought my hand up to touch my mouth. I thought I was looking at an outline for a moment but then realized that couldn't be true. My surroundings were washed out in color but clear.

My hand was a shadowy black that turned almost transparent at the edges. Looking down at the rest of my body, I only found more surprises. My entire form looked as if it were made of shadow, and my anatomy had changed.

This wasn't right. I shouldn't look like this. Humans didn't look like this. It was an uncomfortable revelation, but I didn't dwell on it for long. I continued the inspection of my new form.

I had a cartoon genie-style tail instead of legs. My body also looked flat, but I still found curves and contours when I ran my hands over it. The inspection continued as I tried to determine what the parts I couldn't easily see had become.

I ran my hands with their long willowy fingers through my hair. I didn't feel anything at first and questioned if I had any. A moment later, a few smokey tendrils floated into my vision.

Playing with them, I found they acted as a single smooth mass. Like mist, sections of it would divide when I pulled my fingers through only to reform. It was weird to watch and reinforced that whatever I was now, it wasn't human.

"Open interface," I said aloud. I needed information, and I wouldn't get it by sitting and spinning in a chair all night. A window opened, and I was faced with five tabs, the first of which was unlabeled. The rest, in order, were inventory, dungeon map, monsters, and a store.

The unlabeled tab contained my personal information, including a picture of all things. I stared at it, surprised to find it showed small green orbs of flame where eyes should be. I felt like I could 'see' myself in that bit of darkness though how eluded me.

Wanting something more concrete, I looked at my listed species. It was dungeon master. I immediately opened the tooltip next to it. An information window that reminded me of a kids encyclopedia of animals opened. It showed a picture and followed by a description and facts.

[Dungeon Master]

[A soul bound to a dungeon core that controls the construction of dungeons. Their existence is sustained by the dungeon core.]

The description was laughably simple. I glared at it but only halfheartedly. I wanted it to tell me more, but I didn't know what. It also occurred to me that I might not like what I found out if my wish was granted.

Under the lackluster description was a chart with the progression of transformation levels. Unlike the preceding section, this one went in-depth into its subject. It gave the name, physical description, abilities, and a set of pictures for each level. I glanced past them until I found the one that best described my current state.

Dungeon Master, unmodified, matched me perfectly. That meant the transformation was complete. I reached up to touch my face and felt where my eyes should have been. I had brows and what felt like sockets, but they were empty and smooth. Like the cavities in a doll's face where glass eyes would eventually go.

Sticking my fingers into one didn't hurt the socket or feel hot despite the image of flames. It also didn't block my vision which was bizarre in its own right. At a guess, the fire might have been symbolic rather than how I actually perceived things. That or bits of it got around my fingers and was enough for uninterrupted vision.

Despite what the picture showed, there was no sense of heat. My fingers passed through where the flames should have been without resistance. That I was jabbing myself in the eye and rummaging around in the socket finally sunk in. I stopped. The thought of it weirded me out despite there being no pain.

That was when an odd thought occurred to me. How had I looked before?

That realization struck me like an avalanche and buried every other thought process. I'd assumed on a certain level that I'd change when the deal was struck. I could accept that much and the drastic change to my appearance.

What was stalling every other function of my brain was how I couldn't recall how I'd looked before the transformation. National origin, skin color, hair length, everything about myself was a blank.

I tried to remember anything about myself, no matter how trivial. The more I tried, the more I realized was missing. Pizza toppings, famous people, the Macarena, all of that was intact. It was my personal information that was gone. I had no idea where or how I lived or if I had any family.

I was missing.