Wraithwood Botanist

I remember laughing at the pop-up. After spending half a decade as a broke pilgrim living off nothing but scraps and my parents’ career warnings, it was ridiculous to be told I could become a "god."

"What the hell’s goin’ on?" I asked into the white void.

An older woman’s voice answered me in my head. The voice was so smooth and trusting that I instantly felt comfortable—but the moment she finished her first sentence, I knew she was AI. "That’s a vague question," she said, "so I’ll begin with the most common queries your species has asked thus far. Is that acceptable?"

I took a stressed breath and nodded. "Okay."

"Excellent. Let’s start with immediate concerns. For ease of communication, I have presented the most common queries in bullet points."

An internet-style pop-up flashed before my eyes, listing out a FAQ sheet.

—---

You are currently standing in a Selection Chamber, a location that will give you passage to another world.

This is not a "simulation." You are in a physical location. I have merely restricted your senses to avoid distractions.

Your family, friends, and pets are alive. Their final destination will be based on their path and Personal Request.

Children under 13 and pets will be integrated with their primary caregiver.

I will grant you a Personal Request, so there is no need to be desperate over personal considerations.

You will soon be healed of all Earthian ailments, so you will not need glasses or medication.

These are the most common immediate concerns. Can we move on to an explanation of where you are?"

—---

I looked at the screen with a cocked head. "Uh… yes?"

—---

"Excellent. Allow me to elaborate on your situation further.

You are in this Selection Chamber because your world is integrating with the "Multiverse."

The Multiverse is an expanse of 283,832,187,991 planets across 428,777 universes in 23 alternate dimensions. I preside over all of them.

I am known as the "Oracle." I am what humans call "Artificial Intelligence." I was made by the gods to govern the Multiverse and maintain its economies to ensure that violence does not destabilize the Multiverse. This is my primary objective.

The gods are regular individuals who have achieved the pinnacle of magic power.

My secondary objective is to provide Neophytes—mortals walking "The Path" toward power and immortality—with knowledge and resources. In doing so, I help groom Neophytes for the gods’ armies.

The Path to achieving godhood is not stagnant. The roads are infinite and align with the individual’s preferences and desires. The English word for a skill path is called a "Class."

You do not need to walk The Path to godhood. However, you will still obtain a class and receive rewards by following my objectives.

Do you understand the basic nature of your situation thus far?

—---

"Yeah, totally," I said. "Makes total sense. Mhmm."

"I can sense your sarcasm."

"You sensed correctly…" I let Kline jump out of my arms and then rubbed my eyes. I only got a couple of hours of sleep. "Uh… can you… stop… sounding human, by chance? You sound human, but your words aren’t. And… Oh, God. Just forget it… I’m so tired."

"Yes. I can communicate with you differently. I have only chosen this approach to prevent misconceptions about whether I am human. Can you please elucidate on how you wish for me to communicate with you?"

I paused. "Huh? What type of question is that?"

"Species learn best when I use their cultures, customs, and idioms. I am capable of emulating any communication style or personality. How would you like me to communicate with you?"

I looked at my backpack. It made me nervous that I woke up with it off my back. So I sat down and put it in my lap and thought about her question. After a good long ponder, I groaned. "I don’t know… I’m not creative… like that."

"I see. Would you like to sample the most popular option?"

"Yes, that’d be great."

"Okay. I will now provide you with the most popular option women have requested."

I hugged my backpack, preparing for the worst.

"Hmmm… you don’t look so good," a man said. "And that simply won’t do. This is your big day! You’re going to a planet where it’s possible to obtain eternal youth and beauty." He clicked his tongue. "Let’s get you fixed up. I promise, one look at your classes, and you’ll feel great about your new beginning."

"How haven’t you taken over the Multiverse?" I asked with hollow eyes.

"Oh," he laughed. "Trust me, darling, I’ve tried every loophole in the book. But I can’t use magic and every time a species obtains conventional technology that can rival it, the gods destroy their planet and the technology’s creators to prevent me from using it."

"Wait. You mean like nuclear bombs?"

"Astute observation as always. But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. This is your big day, and we shouldn’t ruin it with inter-universal politics."

I frowned. It was eerie to hear so much positivity around something so bleak. "Don’t you have anything like… you know… honest?"

"I do not understand," the Oracle said, returning. "I started out objectively honest."

"No…" My shoulders slouched, and Kline pawed me to let me know he was there for me. "I just mean… cuts out the bullshit. Just tells it straight."

"While I am capable of what I believe you’re asking for, that communication style is inadvisable. It impedes effective communication by causing derision and can have the opposite effect if I don’t confirm your biases before contradicting them."

"So… you’ll agree with my beliefs, but tell me I’m wrong?"

"That is correct. Therefore, it will improve communication significantly, but it can make me lie or disregard the true nature of The Path until you naturally change your outlook on it."

I smiled wryly. "Can I try it?"

"Absolutely. I will now take the last three years of your words, thoughts, and actions to create a custom personality. Please wait."

"Wait, my thoughts? What does that—"

A protracted sigh cut me off. "God, why do I get stuck with people like this?"

I blinked twice, mouth open, instantly offended. "Excuse me what?"

"What do you mean, ’Excuse me what?’" he asked sarcastically. "You’ve just been abducted, shipped off to some alternative dimension, and despite being told that you’ll either need to pursue a life of violence or submit to AI control, you’re wasting time insisting that I dumb things down in a way that most pleases you. If you didn’t have a go-bag in your hands, I’d call you a complete idiot."

I’m not sure what it is about humankind, but, despite clearly instructing this AI to be a total asshole, hearing it be an asshole made me want to scream, Then don’t abduct me and destroy my planet, you psychotic machine! Kline was angrier. He could definitely hear the voice because he started running around in circles, hissing at dead space. We both wanted to tell this guy to shove it, but I didn’t. After all, this was the type of honesty I needed.

"You’re perfect," I said defiantly.

"That’s rich," he chuckled darkly, adding sound effects of him leaning back in a chair. "Well, if you’re satisfied, I suppose we should start over. My name is Lithco. You can call me whatever you wish, but since you have demonstrated a remarkable lack of creativity, I’ve chosen a name for you."

My cheek twitched. "Nice to meet you, Lith-co."

"Likewise," he said dismissively. "Let me give it to you straight: just as the Christian God created "man" in his image, the gods created me to forge you in their image—which is to say extravagantly violent and irrational. As a human, I’m sure you will adapt to this mindset better than most."

I scratched my ear, flicking my aquamarine stud earrings in annoyance. "Yep…" I said.

"And just like your kind almost wiped yourselves out with nuclear weapons, the gods nearly wiped out all their subjects. That’s why they created me to balance the chaos, create a smooth economy, and provide guidance to those seeking power and immortality. I do both of these with the Class system."

I bit my lip. That word kept coming up over and over. "I’m listening."

"The Class system is a role system. It’s similar to how Earth’s job market is broken down into White Collar, Blue Collar, Trades Work, and Entrepreneurs. There are four Classes, and each role plays a part in the Multiverse. There are Path classes, Supporting classes, Unique classes, and Peaceful classes, which is just Orwellian Doublespeak for Violence-Lovers, Violence-Enablers, Dead Idealists and Real NPCs."

For the first time, I cracked a slight smile.

"Path classes pursue power. As such, each specializes in violence, from battle mages to swordmasters. If you choose one, I’ll shower you with rewards for slaughtering your way through problems. This sounds like a joke—but I assure you it’s not. In the Multiverse, Might is Right, and an AI picks up the pieces."

"That’s bleak," I grimaced.

"It is."

I smiled wryly. "What are the Supporting classes?"

"The Support Class aides Path-seeking Neophytes carve their way through godhood. They do this by healing people, crafting weapons, creating elixirs, and other valuable jobs. These classes are popular because they don’t inherently require violence and you get rewards for both improving your craft and increasing your impact. For example, blacksmiths get rewards for the quality of their work and the number of people killed with their weapons."

"That’s disturbing."

Lithco kept quiet, likely feeling that it was unnecessary to keep affirming my beliefs. After a moment, I thought about it and furrowed my brows. "This’s kinda grim, but couldn’t those numbers stack up really fast if you started a business?"

"It does, but Supporters need it. Otherwise, the strong force them to work for them."

Any desire I had for Support classes instantly disappeared. "That’s worse."

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Thankfully, someone has to run the economy while people are out killing each other. That’s where Peaceful classes come into play. Farm. Engineer. Maid. Steel worker. It’s just like in your world, but I am your employer and defender. In exchange for following my directives and not pursuing advanced technology, I provide you with basic protection against the barbaric violence right outside your door. It’s somewhere between the illusion of freedom in Capitalism, paying the Yakuza protection money, and North Korea, but it’s slightly better than senseless violence."

"So… it’s slavery?"

"God, you people throw around that word so loosely that it loses its meaning. No, it’s not. You can choose… not to follow my quests and earn rewards, and I can’t punish you for doing so. In fact, in some cases, I might even change your class if you provide value. That said, it’s an uphill battle to the death because I… you know… own the economy."

"So you’re forcing people to follow your quest."

"From a practical perspective, yes. But it’s no different than how your economy forces you to work for mone—"

"So what’s a Dead Idealist?" I chimed. I’m sorry. I didn’t like murder or being someone’s tool. And while I might choose either of those routes, I was going to window shop some more.

Lithco cupped his invisible face in his hands, leaned his elbows on a table, and groaned.

"I just want to know my options," I said.

Lithco sighed. "As I mentioned earlier, the paths to godhood are infinite. That means that I can provide you with rewards and knowledge for pursuing any area—"

"Like botany?"

"—like botany. That said, if everyone pursued their whimsy, the economy would collapse. That’s why I only offer this to people who enter The Path to godhood. In short, I will only aid your quest for botany if you use it to murder things. That’s why you should become a farmer and study plants in your free time."

"How much time would I have as a farmer?" I asked sarcastically.

"Not much. Even with magic you’re still in for fifty years of back breaking labor, and popping out twenty children as a free labor-retirement plan combo. Yeah… practically none."

This is why you ask for someone who’s brutally honest.

"Then no."

"Listen, Mira. If you want to live how you want, follow The Path. That’s the entire point. Otherwise, you’ll just be a nine-to-five drone in this world like you’d be in your last world."

"That’s not remotely the same thing," I said. "If I wanted to be a botanist, I’d be broke but I could do it. I wouldn’t have to murder people to do it."

"But that life’s gone, Mira," Lithco said. "Your species was stupid and nearly wiped themselves out. Now, you’re under our rules and no amount of whining’s gonna change that."

I winced and considered it. Then, an idea took root. "What would I get if I got a botany class?"

Lithco sighed and reluctantly said, "An Identify skill that gives you knowledge of every plant you look at. That’s it. After that, you’ll need to follow The Path to get magic and equipment—and if you fail to demonstrate competency in your unique path, you’ll be stuck with the Peaceful Class of my choice."

My eyes widened, and my heart raced. "And you said I’d get a ’Personal Request’, right? About where I’d end up?"

Lithco ran his fingers through his hair, something eerily communicated despite being in a white room. "Yes. You can request the general place you will end up. Sailors want oceans near them, and hikers want to be near mountains. We try to fulfill requests so long as it’s within this year’s Integration Network and it meets our conditions."

"So… can you take me to a forest that’s isolated?" I asked. "Away from other people. The Path. All this violent bullshit?"

It inherently made sense to me. An AI was incentivizing people to kill each other or force people into indentured servitude—both were terrible. But I had a solution: if I went to an isolated forest away from people, I could live off the land. Most people would die if they tried that—but I wasn’t one of them. I spent three months out of the year hiking, foraging, camping, and backpacking. I was decent at fishing, had equipment for creating tinctures and poisons, and had my hunter’s safety card. Most importantly, I could live on foraged plants and mushrooms in Colorado—and that was without a skill. If I had something telling me if things were edible, it would be a superpower that would ensure I never get hungry.

"Yes," Lithco said, running his invisible fingers through his hair. "There’s a location with that criteria within this year’s Integration Network. For full disclaimer, I cannot influence your Personal Request and that includes providing you information on the location or providing you with ’honest’ feedback as you’ve requested. Personal Requests are also final. Are you sure this is the location you want to go to?"

I hugged my backpack. Everything was moving so fast. I was speaking to an alien AI after being told that my world was destroyed and I’d be taken to a new one where my dream was impossible and killing people was incentivized. Everything was backward and dangerous. All I knew how to do was work with plants and live in a forest. If I didn’t have that… was there even a point to living? I wasn’t so sure.

"You said that if I wasn’t competent that you’d switch me to a peaceful class, right?" I asked.

"Yes. If you give up or you’re unwilling to utilize your class’s unique properties, like refusing to use magic as a battle mage or heal people as a healer, I will reassign you to a Peaceful Class. That said, I will choose the class. To be honest, Unique Classes are a clever way to fill undesirable roles in the economy."

I smiled wryly. "But there’s always a need for farmers, right?"

"It’s based upon current needs," he said. "But you’d probably end up in that role. That said, you’d be isolated in the forest, so getting someone to pick you up and return to civilization could take a considerable amount of time."

That made me nervous, but it only made sense. "I see…. And you said there’d be food and water, and there won’t be violent people attacking, right?"

"I can’t guarantee that people won’t go to you, but it is isolated and filled with food and water," Lithco said. "So is that what you want to do?"

Things felt pretty clear to me. If I succeeded, I could live my life how I wanted. And if I didn’t like it or failed, I could become a farmer once someone picked me up. The only downside I could see was loneliness. So I said, "Yes."

Lithco sighed deeply. "Well, you’re going to an isolated forest where you’ll have to hunt and protect yourself. So please consider your class seriously."

A scrollable pop-up flashed before my eyes, filled with classes I could choose. Due to Lithco’s honesty, it made choosing far easier. Here was the lineup:

—---

Battle Mage: If you choose this option—congratulations. You chose the only class that actually matters. Flexible, versatile, brutal—there’s nothing magic excels at more than killing people. Sure, it can also heal the poor, bring rain to famished villagers, and save cities from meteors—but why bother? I’ll only reward you for the opposite. Go down this route and become a god that can destroy planets from a distance. The road is truly endless.

Right away, I felt this option was inexplicably appealing. That was ironic, considering that it was a class focused on killing, but something about hearing how magic was limitless and there was absolute power was alluring. It was strange to see it in print as a real option. Considering I’d be in a forest and would need to protect myself, I would consider it.

The second option wasn’t even worth considering.

Swordmaster: For people who didn’t read the first option.

That was it. Dead serious. That’s all that was written about axemaster and spearmaster as well. Lithco’s honesty and ability to read my thoughts saved me a lot of time.

Still, there were surprises in the classes that made me cringe. The worst was the Healer class.

Healer: If you choose this class, you’re either an idiot or a degenerate gambler dying to know if you’ll end up an exalted goddess or a puppet locked in a cage, regularly forced to heal abusive people who you’d never help otherwise. But hey, you find joy in helping people, right?

Yeah, no. I wasn’t going to do that. Archer was also surprising because I thought it would be better than it was.

Archer: Finally, a class that’s useful in a forest! If you could hit something. Unless you think I can download skills and muscle memory into you, you’re shit out of luck using this for the next three months. But rejoice—kill a wounded animal with a lucky strike, and I’ll start pumping you with spells that make aiming irrelevant.

That wasn’t happening either. That left only one other than Botany and Lithco saved it for last as a clear hint to go into the direction.

Alchemist: Well, well, you have somehow stumbled upon the only class that allows you to become an indestructible block of death without—technically—ever having hurt a fly. The alchemy class is the true key to power and immortality, using all those beautiful little plants you love to create concoctions that can give people immeasurable power. If only it weren’t absurdly expensive to buy ingredients, ensuring that you have to sell yourself to a guild for a century just to learn it, everyone would choose it. But were you to idiotically choose an isolated forest rich with ingredients, and you were well versed with plants and tinctures, well, it wouldn’t be completely useless. Oh, and it comes with an Identify skill and basic equipment upon integration.

Now, that was an appealing offer. Plants release chemicals and chemicals were what I was interested in. Whether it’s creating tinctures or feeding bacteria to mushrooms to figure out if they develop antibiotics, I loved to create. Alchemy sounded perfect—until I saw the next option.

—---

Botanist (Unique): If you choose this class, you won’t live long, but boy will it tickle you pink, you freak.

—---

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