Sifting through the data on my interface, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic. I hadn't been given a chance to do any black-hat work in years. Though it was a little different this time, because instead of sorting through a pile of junk data, I just had my minions deliver the gold straight to me.

  The picture of the Water Office that my informants provided was a mix of a half dozen mining exploration companies working in cooperation with a form of state military. Each of those ‘mining companies’ was a faction under the leadership of a commander in possession of an anomalous object of some kind. So the expedition we were dealing with was only a single wing of the Office, its leader being the wielder of Continuity Asset W-02, which was the least inspired name I could imagine for a blade that allowed its original wielder’s mind to hop to a subordinate’s on death.

  It was even written into the contract that new employees of this branch of the Water Office had to agree that their minds may be overwritten at a random point in the future. It was treated like a hazard present in any other job. They didn’t even get any additional compensation because of that risk, which was just sad.

  The commander had apparently left with the expedition into the dimensional overlap yesterday and returned today as a cloud of mist in search of a new body, with the only other survivors being the remote drone operators. Information was being strictly controlled, so I didn’t actually know what had happened to turn the orchids black, but I could make a pretty good guess.

  The primary goal of this expedition was to recover parts from any anomalous organisms or materials that could be found. Apparently, the company had some kind of method for processing them into pills that could then be consumed by the wealthy to increase their lifespan. I’d bet they tried to shoot the fox the moment they saw it, and that’s what kicked off the darkening of the field.

  For Eightfold, actually solving whatever was wrong here was a distant secondary objective. In fact, from what I could see, they didn't even have an Office looking into how to reverse the overlap. Because apparently, it was more profitable for the world to die.

  Normally, that reminder would sadden me, but right now I couldn’t seem to care. Maybe I had overtaxed my mind.

  Cutting the restraints from my newest convert, I waved her away to join her contemporaries who had dragged her here. Then I opened up The Stream to look for the next step in the plan. We had reached a critical mass where a quick purge could do more harm than good for the expedition, so I could just let it kind of run on its own now.

  That’s what Showbill was designed for after all.

  Memetic realignment tool, persistent spread, delivery vector: converted agents, primary emotional manipulation point: loyalty, Cost: <= 2500

  Makesi had given me some tips on refining my search queries. Apparently, you could just make up search operators, and the System would just figure it out.

  The first result was a pamphlet I could give to my followers that would make whoever it was handed to far more susceptible to switching loyalties. It only came in at fifty Dust a pop, but it was also incredibly boring, so I wasn’t going to go with that, obviously.

  Scrolling through The Stream, I ignored all the listings that could be intercepted and destroyed, or could potentially be used as evidence for a growing movement against the commander of this wing of the office. Because I was fairly certain that if the commander realized everyone who they could potentially hop to was being subverted, they would go scorched earth, profit be damned.

  That was how Atlas operated after all.

  The thing was, that wouldn’t even be a terrible outcome. If the commander torched their own expeditionary corps, we could solve the overlap issue without interference, and Heaven would probably ignore it as internal stupidity. But I had plans that needed the expedition intact, and provoking the commander into Vivi’ing the whole thing into Dust would ruin all of that.

  That left me with two that I felt okay with trying here.

  A tattoo that I could inscribe on one of my recruits that activates any time a non-convert engages the bearer in any conversation relating to issues with the mission, leadership failure, or personal risk of failure. Upon activation, if the bearer indicates agreement with their concern, a cognitive hook is planted that makes the target more likely to disclose future worries to the bearer and more receptive to a shift in allegiance toward them. It was 200 Dust per application of the tattoo.

  This had pretty decent potential for turning into a self-reinforcing loop, and it didn’t say anywhere in the item listing that the tattoo had to be visible. I was fairly certain that putting it on one of the logistics personnel that I grabbed would be a great vector in a day or two, once the fact that we had been destroying their supply convoys started to catch up with them.

  Then the next actually tied together with the first.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  It came in the form of a memetic infection I could place into the mind of one of my agents. When my patient zero spoke the code word aloud, it would propagate the infection to anyone within auditory range. This infection’s primary symptom was an increased feeling of dissatisfaction with the leadership of their current employer. It would also cause a buildup of irritation within the mind of the infected that could only be relieved by expressing their dissatisfaction aloud, sort of like a cough. Anyone who heard the complaint while working under the same command structure would be infected as well.

  I could choose what I wanted the cure for the infection to be, which is how they worked well together. Because I could make speaking to someone with a tattoo be what resolves the symptoms. The contagion as a whole was 1000 Dust.

  Purchasing five tattoos and one copy of the memetic infection, I held my hand out underneath, where five of what looked like temporary tattoo patches appeared. That wasn’t really what I was expecting, but I was glad I didn’t need the hand dexterity to ink the symbol it showed me on someone’s skin.

  I’d only ever done stick and poke tattoos, and I wasn’t sure if I could do a four-dimensional one like what I purchased justice.

  -200 Dust x5

  -1000 Dust

  Dust: 2893

  “Alright, who here works in a position where it wouldn’t be weird for you to listen to complaints from a large number of employees up and down the command chain?” I asked the arrayed group of Water Office mercenaries lined up in front of me.

  After a short discussion amongst each other, three came forward. I applied the tattoos to the bottom of their ankles, and after explaining their function, passed the last two patches on for them to figure out. They would know best how to exploit the effects in their own organization. Finally, I transferred the infection to one of the tattoo bearers, and with that, I was done.

  Waving off the actors, I went to join my team.

  The curtain had risen, and the stage was in motion. I couldn’t wait to see the results.

  “Do you think that’ll be enough? What if they get caught?” Aurin asked me while we walked.

  “Get caught doing what? Complaining about their workplace? I doubt that’s an uncommon occurrence, especially after they lost a whole platoon in the first expedition,” I replied, and intertwined one of my arms with hers. When she shivered lightly at the skin contact, I couldn’t help but let a smile cross my face.

  I rather quite liked having high Venust, even if I had to sometimes pull myself away from staring at myself in the mirror.

  “Anyone who sees that tattoo will absolutely know something is wrong. It looked like it was sitting in multiple places at once while occupying one spot,” she said.

  “Then whoever was caught dies, I guess,” I replied with a shrug. If they fucked up that badly, that was on them. “They shouldn’t have volunteered if they didn’t want the responsibility.”

  Aurin turned to stare at me, “You overwrote their minds so they would do that.”

  “So? What’s your point?”

  “Just realizing how little I understand you sometimes,” she said before pulling me in close to her so she could kiss my head.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I muttered while my head was buried in her arm.

  Arriving at the edge of the field where the others were waiting, I broke off from her. We didn’t really want to test if the chastity restriction was still in place, and if it applied even when Aurin was offstage. Not when Eightfold had already broken the rules this badly.

  Aisling was jotting something down in a notebook, while Vivi and Makesi sat on a rocky outcropping staring into the dark. Far off in the distance, I could hear what sounded like the rumbling of thunder.

  When Aisling noticed my approach, she signalled to our team lead, who stood to greet me.

  “All finished with the preparations for the Office?” Makesi asked. He was a lot more imposing when he was wearing his full suit of armour with his near baby face completely covered, like he was right now.

  “As best as I can. Either we return, and this wing is completely ours, or it’s a burning pit in the ground, and any survivors have been scattered. I presume both outcomes are fine with you,” I replied, and made Aurin visible as a courtesy to her. It kind of annoyed me when she wasn’t treated as actually being here, even when she was.

  “Good, that should keep them busy. Now that we don’t have to worry about an army catching us from behind, we’re going for a full close. Whether the format is the same trial-based one or if it has shifted into something else. At this point you should expect anything to be possible including combat,” he said.

  “I don’t remember the files on Class Fours mentioning anything about it being possible for their style to change,” Vivi said, joining us in a circle alongside Aisling. “Even if we screwed it up a little…”

  Makesi gave Vivi a look that told me she was the one who screwed it up.

  “Those documents are written for the kind of issues you’d run into during a regular closure led by someone with plenty of prior experience capable of recovering from even major rule violations. Normally, we wouldn’t ever have to worry about something like this because the natives would have been kept away while we dealt with the rift. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible, and we’re now dealing with a Class Four that has entered a moral panic,” he explained.

  “The route has changed. We still begin at the checkpoint, but from there, it looks almost like we take a straight path to the rift,” Aisling said, flipping the journal around so we could see what was inside. I couldn’t actually make sense of what she drew. It looked more like an abstract image than a map, but Makesi nodded sagely, so it must mean something.

  “Does anyone have any last preparations they need to go over?” Makesi asked, looking us over. When nobody spoke up, he nodded. “Then we advance into the unknown.”

  I suppressed a chuckle at his overly dramatic phrasing, and here I thought I was supposed to be the theatrical one. Then I took Aurin back offstage, because I didn’t want her to get hurt.

  Following behind the team, we waded into the flower patch once again.

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