Infinite Farmer

"Tulland. What would you say?"

Tulland's world mechanics tutor was an eloquent man. He knew more about Ouros than any other man who lived here, or even three of them combined. He had traveled across the sea to tour the known world multiple times in his life. He had seen war. He had known triumph and death both, and in amounts that would have drowned a man of lesser character. He was, in many ways, a living giant.

He also had a bad habit of asking Tulland questions just moments after the boy had stopped listening. It was a scenario that happened as consistently as the sun rose and set each day. Tulland would gaze off longingly at the world beyond their boring island for just a moment or think about the adventures he could have, and then his tutor would ask him some soft, simple questions he could have easily answered if he was paying attention.

Sighing internally, Tulland verified he hadn't subconsciously absorbed enough of what his tutor had said to fake his way through an answer. He steeled himself to just be honest.

"I apologize, teacher. My mind was wandering," Tulland said.

The tutor shook his head. "Not the first time we've seen that, I suppose. I was asking what the purpose of this world is. What it's for."

"For adventure." Tulland looked out towards the sea, where a sloop was headed away from the island to parts unknown. "To explore. To go to war for. That kind of thing."

"Oh? How many of you agree with young Tulland?" The tutor glanced around the group of five or so young men whose parents were rich enough to engage him as a teacher. "Be honest now. His answer is considered by some to be the right one."

A few more of the boys sheepishly raised their hands. The tutor wasn't a petty sort of person. He wouldn't punish them even if he very much disagreed with them. That meant that the others who kept their hands down really did believe in non-adventure, rather than just saying what seemed to make their tutor happy.

"There are those who believe that this world was built for just those sorts of things. For men to prove their strength, it provides monsters and war alike. There is never a shortage of danger on which the young can test themselves," the tutor said.

Except here. The most dangerous thing I've seen this year was a runaway fishmonger's cart, and that was stopped by an old woman. With her cane, Tulland thought.

"While I believe that strength is all well and good, I've seen quite a bit and suspect that what the gods wanted for us is something quite a bit different." The old man lowered his hand and pointed down from their hill-top platform to one of the many streets below. "For me, the most exciting thing is something just like that."

The boys leaned forward to get a better look at the object of the tutor's interest, and found it was a mother wearing conventional garb, and filling her basket with produce from her local stand.

"She's sort of pretty, I suppose?" Altreck, one of the less bright members of Tulland's peer group, wrinkled his brow as he tried to puzzle out the source of his tutor's fascination. "Although she's much younger than you. And I think married."

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"Not that, you fool." The tutor glared past his glasses at the young man. "It's not her beauty. It's what she's doing. That basket was woven from sticks that had to be gathered, then blessed to stay together. She's filling it with vegetables that had to be grown and meat that had to either be raised or hunted, which she will pay for with coin produced by other work. And then she will go home, cut it all up, cook it in pots and pans that a smith had to make, put it on plates that had to be formed from clay and fired, and feed it to her family so they can go on to do work of their own."

"So it's that she's…" Altreck paused. Tulland could almost hear the rusty gears in Altreck's mind struggling to turn. "A good cook?"

The knob of the old tutor's staff came down so quick that Tulland hardly saw it, and cracked Altreck just hard enough in the head to let him know he had failed in a decisive, complete manner.

"No. It's that this entire island knows nothing but those things. Productive things. Harmonious things. People work and eat. They play and heal. Sickness is almost unknown in the young here. War hasn't been seen on this island for generations," the tutor said.

Tulland knew what the old man was working up to, and subtly rolled his eyes as the tutor turned to sweep his arm dramatically over the entire view of the town.

"It's happiness for all who are willing to work for it." The old man suddenly coughed, then continued struggling against a hacking fit for five or ten seconds ago as his old sicknesses wreaked havoc in his body. When he finally recovered, he continued, if a little less sure than before. "That's what I believe, at least. There are respected scholars who disagree with me, but I believe building and protecting pockets of paradise like this one is the point. The purpose of this world."

He would think that. He's seen the world, and was frightened by what he saw. He returned a coward.

Quiet, you. Tulland kept his face as straight as he could while looking in the direction of the lesson. If I'm caught not paying attention again, the old man will tell Uncle. You know what will happen then.

More lessons.

Right. So keep quiet.

The class never quite recovered after the tutor's coughing fits, partially because it embarrassed all the boys to see someone so well respected in such a weakened state, and partially because the old man was never quite the same after them until he had a chance to rest and recover. After a few more token attempts to actually teach the boys something, he dismissed them for the day and left them in favor of a warm fire and a cup of hot broth at the tavern.

Tulland found his way over to his friend. "Sorry about that, Altreck. I made him mad and then you got the whack."

"No, it's my fault." Altreck smiled and rapped a knuckle on the side of his own head. "I've never been quick. You know that. You didn't get the whack because paying attention isn't what he cares about."

"Then I'm sorry for making your whack worse."

"Forgiven. Traycin and I are heading down to the open after this, to see if we can get a ball game going. Will you come?"

"Wish I could," Tulland lied, putting his most genuine-looking regretful expression on display for his friend. "My uncle needs me on the books. He's done a lot of business lately. You understand."

Altreck didn't, of course, but Tulland was counting on that.

"Of course I do. We'll be down there for a while if you get done quick. But everyone else already left a bit ago, so…"

"Yes, yes. Go. Don't be late on my account." Tulland shooed his friend away. "I'll be down later, if I can."

You waste your time on that boy.

He's a friend.

He's an idiot.

Idiots can be friends, System. Tulland felt himself getting a bit angry in defense of his friend. Good ones. He's taken beatings for me.

The System seemed to become a little sheepish at that, backing away as soon as it detected Tulland's annoyance.

Yes, well, either way, he's still not what you should be spending your time considering. That is. You know what you should do.

Tulland at least knew very well what the System wanted him to do. Since it had found him and contacted him a few months ago, it had been very clear on what it thought was the best path forward for Tulland. He was resisting it so far. One was always well-cautioned to do so when dealing with an ancient, banished evil.

Once his friend was safely out of sight, Tulland strolled. It was time for his second lesson of the day, the far less approved of the two.

The old man was not entirely wrong. There is beauty in that woman's shopping.

Oh? I wouldn't have thought you'd say so.

Of course I would. But his vision is short-sighted. That woman's dinner, her family's happiness, and their ability to pursue their trades and crafts is admirable. Even beautiful. But it is only possible through force.

I don't suppose you mean the force it takes to carry the vegetables home.

No. I mean that at the edges of this world are threats. Savages who would drink your blood. Beasts that would tear your flesh. Is it not so? Is it not taught in this way?

It is, but…

But it's far away.

Yes.

You only believe so because you are kept small here. Look ahead and you will see those that make sure you stay that way. Your peace comes at the cost of those with force. And you now rely on them as if they were your overlords.

This was the System that Tulland had come to know, especially so whenever there was a church building around. When he looked ahead, there were no surprises waiting for him. There was a stone structure, with a cleric in front of it who granted blessings.

It once was that everyone was given a class. Power was withheld from no one. And in that world, the monsters at the gate trembled in fear that you would crash into their lands, not the other way around.

It's safer this way. More controlled. There's less war. Less killing.

Which is stated by whom? And in whose histories? The current owners of that building?

Tulland could feel the System drawing his attention to the sheer antiquity of the building in front of him. It was so ancient that even the Church did not claim to know who had built it, despite having occupied it for centuries. And as the System said, they'd be the ones who would know. All histories were, in a way, Church histories.

I tell you that it is not your protection the Church seeks. It is their own control. They fear what might happen if more like you sought your power from my generous hands, rather than their stingy ones.

Well, maybe. Sure. But your power doesn't come free either, does it?

Not free, but cheaply. Simply pass through my arch. I can promise you that if you do, no arm in this world will be strong enough to hold you down.

Maybe. Tomorrow is the day of choosing. Let's see how that goes first.

So be it.

With that, Tulland knew the conversation was over. The System always pulled away after a flat refusal. Which was, in large part, why he was still talking to it at all. He had never seen the System, but he knew that system contact was not unheard of, even centuries after the Church had seized control of its authority and, unable to destroy it, had pushed the thing to the outer edges of their world.

Every once in a while, someone would answer that voice calling out of the darkness. If and when that became known, the new prophet of the System would be captured and taken away. None of the books said where, just that it was necessary. Great rewards were promised to those who reported on someone who failed to reject the overtures of the System, just as terrifying punishments were meted out on those who allowed it ingress into the Church-controlled world.

Yet, the System was interesting, and Tulland was so very bored. The problem had a simple solution, as far as he was concerned. He would entertain the System until the System failed to entertain him any longer, then he'd send it back whence it came. The System could only talk to the willing, and even the Church couldn't read minds.

And even if he wanted to keep the System around, he wouldn't be able to after tomorrow. Because tomorrow, he would get his class. Tulland was sure of that. And then everything would change.