Ryan Rimmel
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Dialysis Book: Chapter 17: Dominus
🕑 Added 2023-12-04 14:40:13 +0000 UTCI had been lied to, or maybe I lied to myself. Clearly, my beliefs as to what Otherworld was capable of was wrong. I was expecting some sort of medieval village tucked away in a renaissance faire. I stepped off of the elevator at the fully constructed elven mast and into a bustling airport.
A cart apparently powered by a core whisked by me. Shade looked over at me and snorted. Shade said, “This is not what I expected. Can I chase that?”
“No, probably not,” I replied as we started towards the front of the airport where everyone from the ship was heading. I walked by a tied dough stand, that was for all intents and purposes selling cinnamon pretzels coated in sugar.
So just cinnamon pretzels.
“I thought the world was pretty low tech,” I said as we walked past the bathroom, which clearly featured indoor plumbing.
“You were on the outskirts of the least developed nation on the planet,” said Spivy. “Did you expect everyone to live like dirt farmers?”
“Would you think less of me if I said yes,” I asked.
“I wouldn’t,” said Spivy. “I couldn’t think less of you already.”
“Freaking fairy,” I grumbled as we walked away from our mast into the central area of the airport. There were twelve masts at Dominus’ airport, two across from each other running back far enough that none of the ships would clip each other. There was a large central area where all of those masts spilled out into, and that all led towards the main exit which was on the bottom floor.
I attempted to walk onto what I thought was the main path, when a long eared elf glared at me.
“Lo-tai.”
They continued, and while I wasn’t sure what Lo-tai meant, from the sauce I could tell it was racist. I focused on the word using my language shard and gathered it was a rather demeaning word to describe those of lower blood.
Lower than elves at least.
“So elves consider humans of lower blood,” I asked.
“Well, that’s progress for you. Elves always consider certain elves to be of lower blood, but now that Dominus is becoming more cosmopolitan they are shifting,” said Spivy. “Now just non-elves are considered to be second class citizens.”
“Great, bet they still take my money,” I said looking around. Spivy snorted.
They segregated the elves away from everyone else quickly with fast lanes and special routes, but there were so many more elves moving through the airport that they actually got places slower than us non-elves. For every three elf passengers, there might be a single non-elf.
That might seem advantageous to the non-elves, but you had to remember that elves were long lived in every world so getting places faster might not always be what they had in mind. Their path was slower, but it was also filled with distractions. The lo-tai path was faster, and insultingly spartan.
The small stands were placed such that you either side could buy goods from them, the merchants at least just wanted your gold, but if there was an elf buying you had to wait and I didn’t mean in order. If an elf was in front of you and then another elf got in line, they also got served first. The only way a lo-tai got served was if there were no elves around.
Which is how I spent nine minutes waiting on a pretzel. The sunk cost fallacy was real, and by the time I got to the order I was ready to throw the item in the trash, except I hadn’t eaten since we’d been on the airship. I grabbed a pretzel and bit down on it. It was more like a breadstick with aspirations than an actual pretzel, but the cinnamon sugar was actually better than what you’d get at your local mall stand so it was a wash.
I bought several small meat links that were probably just the local version of a hotdog and tossed one to Shade while I ate another. It was unsalted venison. Not unexpected, but not nearly as flavorful as I was used to. If you asked nicely where I lived, someone would always give you a bag of deer jerky that was usually homemade.
They would have made a killing here, with the non-elves at least.
“I expected them to be vegetarians,” I said.
Spivy snorted, taking a bite out of her link. “Why in god's name would you think that?”
“One with the forest,” I said, reading off a banner that showed a dozen elves around a tree.
“Things in the forest eat meat,” said Spivy as she took another big bite. “They will have a vegan meal from time to time but mainly it can be said of elves that they hate to waste anything. If you were to throw away your food uneaten, you’d get a stern look. Possibly a tisk tisk.”
“They use all the deer,” I asked.
“Everything but the snort,” said Spivy as she took an entirely too big bite of her link. Her jaw was not ‘human’ equivalent.
“Great, so far I can’t think of a single good thing about this place,” I said.
“It is not all bad, chum,” said Shade. “There are bathrooms everywhere.”
I looked around for a bathroom, and didn’t see one. There were trees, bushes and potted plants in abundance. There was greenage everywhere and some very annoyed elves. Annoyed elves pointing at me. No, not me, they were pointing at Shade, which didn’t make sense all he’d done was… ”We should probably go.”
We scooted down a spartan ramp over a plain path to a non-descript queue. After we got out of the main concourse, the elves stopped even pretending to care. What the elven public couldn’t see didn’t merit any decoration.
Still, going through an airport without even a carry-on was great. I had all my stuff in my inventory, so we got to the exit quickly enough. I was feeling pretty confident. I stood in line with the other non-elves and waited to be released, curious to see what the actual town looked like. Until I saw the rings, the clearly working rings.
“Spivy,” I hissed.
“Oh gee, I didn’t know those existed,” said Spivy patiently. “Just remember, they can’t tell humans apart.”
The elf, in this case, was a bored looking middle aged elf with a slight paunch. He didn’t look like the idealized version of an elf from Lord of the Rings, he looked like a guy who had a job at an airport. His hair was straight and blond, his ears were short and pointy, and he was wearing the airport's livery, which was the same thing as a uniform.
It was the puffy blue stuff that the crew of the elven airship wore, just toned down significantly because he clearly wasn’t flying anywhere. He even had a nametag, which read Mitch.
“ID,” said Mitch.
I pulled out my adventuring ID and handed it to him, flipping it back to check the name, “Hi, I’m … Heywood.”
The pause should have made him suspicious, because I’m an idiot who had to check his own ID. If that was a problem, the elf didn’t notice. He just looked at my ID curiously for a moment and then looked back up at me. I saw him fiddling with a small stone tablet and he spent a good minute playing with the tablet until he finally turned it over.
“According to our records, you should look like this,” said Mitch. I glanced at the tablet, which now had a slightly raised ‘screen’ showing a picture of a bearded human male, with a thin face and green eyes. He looked bored, as one should in an ID photo.
Shade bumped into my leg worriedly. I reached down and scratched my poor boy on the head.
“I shaved,” I replied, touching my mostly clean shaved face.
The elf looked back at the picture, then at my id, then at me. “You’ll want to get that updated then.”
“I’m going to the adventurer's guild first thing,” I said. Mitch nodded, before stamping something on Heywood’s ID.
“I’m going to have to scan you for unlicensed magical items. Do you have anything on you I should know about,” said Mitch.
I waited for a moment, then another. “Spivy?”
She wasn’t there, and neither was Shade. Great.
“I have a relic I found in a dungeon,” I said. Mitch stopped dead and stared at me. I showed him the relic, which I’d wrapped up in enough cord that it actually looked like something you pulled out of a goblin warren.
Mitch considered that, then examined his wand more closely. “This may not be enough for that. I'll need to use the ring scanner on you.”
“You will not,” bellowed a voice as another elf stomped across the causeway, glaring daggers at Mitch. He was wearing a robe that looked like a much nicer version of Kailee’s robe. Shade headbutted me and I felt something crawling up my leg.
“I love this cloak,” said Spivy as the other elf closed like a shark on a wounded seal. Mitch swallowed loudly.
“He said he was going to the guild, not that he was part of the guild,” said Mitch, flinching back.
“Because his GUILD ID wasn’t enough of an indicator,” said the angry elf. He didn’t have a name badge. He looked a lot more physically capable than Mitch, as well as being slightly taller. Elves didn’t trend towards muscly instead having more of a runner’s build. This elf was a sprinter not a long distance runner.
“I’m sorry Mister Clorax,” said Mitch as he backpedaled.
Clorax turned on me and hissed, “And you didn’t bother to go to the guild check in?”
“No,” I said uncomfortably.
“I understand complexities like walking to the right booth might elude your tiny brain, but next time do what you are supposed to do,” growled Clorax as he watched Mitch splid into full retreat.
“Sorry,” I said, as Clorax turned his glare towards me, “Sir?”
Clorax snorted, “At least you know your place. Have you been scanned?”
I looked at the unused wand on the desk, “Yes.”
“Good, go to the guild hall before he calls for reinforcements,” said Clorax, handing me a token. “Call a birdie and have them take you to the guild hall.”
He shoved me with quite a bit more force than specifically necessary towards a side exit right before the rings. The two elven security guards both looked at me, then Clorax, before moving aside and letting me and Shade out of the building.
“That was easy,” said Shade.
“I told you, elves hate it when you do even the tiniest thing slightly wrong,” said Spivy.
“You did this,” I grumbled.
“Yes, because you couldn’t be scanned, so you went to the main gate where the local security would undoubtedly attempt to scan you out, which would offend the adventurer's guild whom pays a small fortune to allow their people to be scanned by guild members,” said Spivy.
“And in the confusion, I didn’t get scanned at all,” I said as we stepped out of the airport. “Impressive.”
“Not my first rodeo,” said Spivy.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” I said looking out at the small metropolis I was standing in. The airport wasn’t segregated from the rest of the town, off some special airport only road. It was built right into a district in downtown and there were elves as far as the eye could see.
A police officer elf was directing traffic as dozens of buggies being pulled by reindeer advanced from a side street while dozens more on the main street waited to go. Elves in every color of clothing were walking down both sides of the street, and on several levels.
The elves used trees that were apparently grown for the purpose to function as combination skyscrapers and foundations for the city. We were clearly on the ground, but there were no less than four layers of balconies sitting over the road with frequent bridges crossing the street.
Tastefully lit signs highlighted shops, of which there were an enormous number on the lower levels. The upper levels seemed reserved for more professional services and I spotted a large sign declaring an elf a reindeer collision specialist.
I’d seen less hustle and bustle in Chicago than this.
“Do they have a subway,” I asked.
“No, just buses. The tree roots get in the way,” said Spivy.
“Oh, that makes sense,’ I replied.
“I am going to pee everywhere,” said Shade gleefully.
“I think I see a boutique you could try first,” I said looking across the street at a clothing store with a large sign that read elves only. Now that I was looking there were some obvious signs of elven segregation. The sign for elves only was in about half of the windows, and while there were groups of elves everywhere I didn’t see more than three or four non-elves in a group.
“Wow, they really desegregated this place since the last time I was here,’ said Spivy.
“It was worse?” I asked. I was a white male, I’d seen hints of racism directed towards me before. This was infinitely worse. I felt unwanted.
“Much, but I expect that to be the case in most of the elven districts. Don’t worry though, that rule generally doesn’t apply to adventurers,” said Spivy. “Well, very much at least.”
“Great,” I muttered, not entirely comfortable about being in part of the discriminated group. “What's a birdie?”
“It's a cab or taxi,” said Spivy, tasting the words. “Which one is the slang?”
“Both are, it's a taxicab,” I said, spotting several large birds pulling buggies. They stood out amongst all the reindeer. I was trying to figure out why there was a difference until I saw it. “Ah, humans can’t ride in reindeer pulled buggies.”
“You are the clever one,” said Spivy as I walked over to the curb and signaled for a birdie.
A halfling woman pulled up, glancing out at me, “You need a ride?”
The way she asked it was deeper than the question. She meant, was it okay if I, a halfling woman, gave you a ride. “My dog?”
“I'm not a big fan of pets,” she waffled. “Especially mutants.”
“He’s a companion,” I replied.
She looked at me, “Lead with that next time, adventurer’s guild?”
Shade sniffed at the bird, which was a large ostrich ish sort of bird. It was larger than any ostrich I’d ever seen, and was wearing blinders as well as booties. I assumed the booties worked like horseshoes or something, as the elven streets were paved with dense black rock.
I tapped on the rock and realized it was obsidian, which didn’t make sense considering how sharp that stuff was. As I glanced at it I caught a whiff of something, and realized that they alchemically treated the rock so perhaps it didn’t get sharp.
The halfling looked at me impatiently, so I hopped onto the buggy and Shade followed. It was a simple two seater with no frills. Oddly, the floor was a metal grate which seemed odd considering the construction of the rest of it. We were in a pair of seats with a cloth roof overtop of us to prevent the weather from getting to us. It could be folded down, but it didn’t look like it had in some time. The roof partially covered the driver, who was wearing a simple but colorful jacket and a tight cap that was tied under her chin.
There was a lot more metal on the buggy than I expected, with reinforcements all over the place. The cloth roof concealed several metal ribs. The floorboard was of very solid steel. I jammed my heel down on it and the buggy felt sturdy. Almost too sturdy for a buggy, I realized as I sat down.
The moment we were sitting she snapped the reins and the birdie took off from zero to full speed in a surprisingly short period of time, only to immediately stop a few seconds later as we queued into a traffic light.
“My names Gloria,” said our driver.
“Max,” I replied, “And this is Shade.”
Now that we were in traffic, my perspective changed. Most of the people on the road were elves with only a handful of non-elves, obvious by the fact they had birds. Every elf had a reindeer of some stripe. Most of the buggies were designed to be slower and less mobile than Gloria’s birdie.
We weren’t in lanes. It was just a big mass of buggies at the intersection. I wondered how the traffic worked, when I saw the other buggies moving and comprehension hit me. Gloria waited patiently for the officer to signal as my hands tightened on the frame of the buggy.
I tapped Shade on the shoulder, “Let's play a game.”
“I like games,’ said Shade.
“Pretend the angry lady is driving,” I said.
“I hate that game. That is a terrible game,” said Shade, his eyes growing wide. “I want to get off.”
The cop signaled, and no one could have paid me money to stand in the street when he did. Every buggy tore out of there, but the lighter weight ones really started moving. I remembered a fact from the zoo that proudly declared an ostrich could move over forty miles per hour, and our light weight buggy didn’t impair our bird one bit.
It must have been magical.
That was the only logical explanation as to how we didn’t die as Gloria drove us like a rally car through the crowd of slower buggies. She weaved, she dodged, and at one point she literally sideswiped another birdie in her quest to get us moving.
“I’m going to be sick,” said Shade.
“Were we on two wheels,” I muttered.
“I missed this place,” said Spivy. “See if she’ll jump something!”
Finally that initial nightmare ended as Gloria pulled us out of the mass of vehicular horror and we had a relatively straight shot forward. I sighed, relaxing. Just going straight was fine, relaxing even. Then we stopped and I got ready to get out when I realized we were in the road.
Surrounded by more buggies, because we were still en route.
“How far until the guild hall?” I asked.
“About twenty more minutes,” said Gloria and I swallowed. “And three more intersections.”
“I hate you,” said Shade.
“I hate myself,” I replied.
Comments
Ryan Rimmel
That's in my spellchecker, Tastefully LIT signs.
David Barnes
"Tastefully tit signs" -- Dominus sound surprisingly exciting
