Chapter 3: The Social Network
At first glance, the app was exceptional in its mundanity. The icon was the archetypal anime girl in a frilly pink and white dress, ribbons trailing off into the distance like a mobile red carpet. Tapping the app for the first time brought me to a whiteboard, with each individual category represented by a small sticky note, taking up every available inch of screen real estate. Most of them were greyed out, even the labels hidden by question marks in most cases, with only a few left visible, the latter featuring generic labels like ‘Messages’, ‘Quests’ and ‘Market Board’. There was only one tab fully accessible at the outset: ‘Character Creation.’
“You remember that I’m destitute, right?” I turned a doubtful look Mascot’s way. “I really don’t have the money to play a mobile game, no matter how generous the starting rewards might be. Though I do have a lot of time on my hands, now that my manager thinks I’m dead, so maybe I could get away with being free to play?”
“The best disguise is to hide in plain sight,” Mascot chuckled, his jowls wobbling with mirth. “Follow the onboarding instructions, and all shall be well.”
That raised more questions than answers, to be perfectly honest, but I wasn’t exactly flush with alternatives, so onward to character creation I went. The process itself was thankfully simple; my phone automatically opened the camera app and directed me to take two selfies, one close up of my face and the other a portrait from the waist up. Moments after the second picture was taken, an impressively accurate 3D render popped up on the screen, showing a stylized animated avatar that bore a passing resemblance to the original article. There were no further options for customisation, which came as a relief; I always tended to suffer from decision paralysis on such screens, spending far too much time pondering over every last detail. As it was, I got 30 seconds to appreciate my avatar, before the game moved on to the welcome screen.
[Greetings, Neophyte, and welcome to MAGIActivate, a brand new world of mystery and wonder!
Study magical lore, hone your skills in battle, and connect with your peers both light and dark as you carve your name into history.
Below is your status page, a representation of your progress.
Status
Rank: Neophyte (Zeroth Degree)
Domains
Miraculous: Magic is death, magic is life. One hand damned you, another saved. You can survive certain death, once upon a new moon.]
“Is that my magic?” I gasped, the realisation hitting me like a hammer blow as I read the final line; it was either one hell of a coincidence, or the dialogue was customised just for me.
Mascot didn’t answer, and the game didn’t have a pause button, so there wasn’t any time to interrogate him further before the dialogue scrolled down.
[From death, life.
From emptiness, purpose.
What drives you, Neophyte?
For what cause shall your will overturn reality itself?]
The cat took a back seat in my priorities, as a far weightier question took hold of my mind. Up until now, I’d largely been running on autopilot, more focused on my immediate condition and following instructions than anything grand. Now, for the first time, I had to think for myself; magic gave me a new lease on life, and near limitless potential, so what did I want to do with all of that?
Immediately, Earthwarder came to mind. I knew, intellectually, that she was not to blame for my death. She was responding to an incursion, fighting in the front line against mankind’s greatest enemy, and chose to conserve her magic to better deal with the ongoing threat. Basic triage, of the kind found in every first aid course.I’d even taken one myself, just once, to meet some corporate requirement or another. It was all entirely logical, and I’d even survived, so arguably her decision was vindicated on all points. Yet logic meant nothing for the jilted heart, did nothing to wipe away the hurt of being left to die.
“I want to get even,” the words came unbidden to my lips. “I want to look Earthwarder in the eye, hold her helpless in my grasp, and ask how she likes it, to have her fate decided entirely by another. What comes after that, we’ll see, but first I want her answer.”
Irrational and doomed? Maybe. Earthwarder was many years my senior, she’d had an entire career to hone magic that I’d only just achieved. But that was my purpose, and my path was set.
[You have sworn an oath of vengeance!
Domain obtained.
Nemesis: She who seeks revenge digs two graves. You always know the way to your chosen enemy.]
I hadn’t felt anything from Miraculous, probably because it had been active in some shape and form since my untimely demise. Nemesis, on the other hand? Now that was an incredible rush; suddenly, I knew with bone deep certainty that Earthwarder was straight ahead of me, dead on the money at twelve o’clock. I spun in place on the bed, testing out my newfound sixth sense, and sure enough, that invisible presence remained fixed in place, pointing unerringly out into the distance.
“So I can find her now,” I muttered under my breath. “That’s step one. How do I intimidate a veteran magical girl? Steps two to a hundred, if I’m lucky.”
[You have committed fully to the path ahead. Masquerade protocols disabled. Identity concealment will not be applied to your person, or any traces left in your wake, digital or otherwise. As your birth identity is legally dead, your name as a magical girl shall be all that matters.
Select Name? Y/N.]
“You mean I get a choice?” I couldn’t help but giggle, the faintest touch of hysteria bubbling up from inside me. “After all that railroading, why do I get a choice now?”
“There’s a certain degree of urgency with your initial magic,” Mascot perked up, finally deigning to provide an explanation. “Magic, by definition, is closely linked to your emotions, an expression of your deepest desires at the time of formation. For this reason, no two magical girls have powers exactly alike, and even those who initially overlap in certain areas and abilities will gradually drift apart, as their magic adapts to their lived experience. More importantly, it’s not advisable to leave a void where magic should be, especially in relation to something as vital as your key aims; historically, there were some who delayed in their choice, leading to stunted growth and significant emotional deterioration in every recorded instance.”
“Ah,” I bit my lip. “I guess a name isn’t quite so important, in the grand scheme of things.”
“Not in the beginning,” Mascot nodded in agreement. “Not intrinsically. There’s value in having a strong brand, of course, but that’s true of any person or product and has nothing to do with magic. It is possible to imbue a name with magic, granting it power beyond being a mere form of identification, but that’s something to consider in the distant future; you need an immense reputation to pull that off, something typically not obtainable until your rank reaches the third degree. In the here and now, before you’ve attained any fame? Your name is malleable, so feel free to experiment or even forgo one altogether; the only downsides are potentially awkward greetings, and the risk that the internet picks an unflattering name that sticks.”
“Fair enough,” I shook my head. “Let’s take a rain check on the name.”
My eyes returned to the app, which seemed to have run its course as far as onboarding was concerned. Navigating back to the homepage, I found ‘Character Creation’ permanently replaced by ‘Status Page’, while the other visible labels were no longer greyed out. ‘Messages’ led to, unsurprisingly, a message board, one filled with chatter that flowed unceasingly. Each message barely stayed on the page for half a second, yet to my surprise I was able to track them all with unerring precision; half a dozen topics of discussion could be found, from dinner plans to weather forecasts to the big demolition derby planned next month, among other eclectic conversations. It all drove home how new I was to the scene, with unknown names, acronyms and incomprehensible jargon in every other line. There was also an option for private messages, but I didn’t know anybody yet, so that wasn’t useful just yet.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Embarrassingly, it took until this point for me to realise I was no longer wearing my contact lenses, they’d been such a constant of life ever since I joined the workforce that I’d simply assumed they were in place. I’d worn glasses before then, but they were supposedly unsuitable for the desired image of our workforce and thus banned wholesale. Now though, my eyes were as good as new; better, even, given how quickly I was processing information on the fly.
“All magical girls receive a basic tune-up upon contracting,” Mascot informed me, having caught onto my fascination. “Enough to be considered mildly superhuman in some fields, and merely on par with the nation’s greatest athletes in others. Only the best for the defenders of mankind.”
That last bit sounded suspiciously like a slogan to me, but I was grateful enough for the upgrade not to mention it. Returning to MAGIActivate, I checked ‘Quests’ next to find it empty, showing only a cute little kitten holding a sign that read ‘Please wait for more information!’
“Quests only come into play during major incidents. While every magical girl contributes to the defence of their local area, sometimes the need arises to coordinate large numbers in pursuit of a common goal. Quests and their associated rewards serve this purpose, helping to ensure that incentives are properly aligned in such circumstances.”
Nodding along to signal my understanding, my final port of call was the ‘Market Board’. Contrary to my expectations of a bustling auction house, it was pretty empty as well, and the wares being peddled looked depressingly mundane: from a babysitting service, to school uniforms and electronics, and even a request for authentic Cuban cigars. All told, the items on offer reminded me more of a corner shop than anything magical.
“The selection will improve as you rank up,” Mascot was quick to reassure me. “A fresh Neophyte is still human-adjacent, and well served by the wonders of modern consumer goods. The more esoteric needs only emerge at the higher end of things, as you’ll learn in time.”
Indeed, there were many more tabs outside of the initial four that remained locked, without even so much as a hint as to their role. I set the phone down, having gotten all that I could out of it.
“I admit, I was expecting something a bit more magical for my first day.”
“As I said, the majority of magical girls prefer to maintain some degree of normal life. In that context, stealth becomes paramount. As far as any onlookers can see, MAGIActivate is nothing more than another magical girl game, one of hundreds of niche entries riding the bandwagon at any given time. Even the conversations can be explained away as a bit of roleplay; helping to keep the government dogs away. It’s not foolproof, but it mostly does the job, inviting far fewer questions than a leather bound tome written in the blood of your enemies.”
“That’s an option?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. I don’t recommend it unless you’re trying to cultivate a very particular aesthetic.”
That made sense, I supposed, not that I was ever going to do so. I still wasn’t sure what image I wanted to portray, but eldritch cultist was most definitely not on the menu.
“Fair enough. Moving on, I’ve got two forms of magic now, and a general idea of my short to medium term goals. I’m still broke and homeless, unless this room happens to be permanent?”
“Technically speaking, nobody knows we’re here right now. I did a bit of playing around with the booking system and got this room flagged as ‘under maintenance’. It worked well while you were asleep, as it meant none of the staff came by, but that also means there won’t be anyone to clean, and you might face some questions if they catch you coming in and out. Now that you’re awake, it’s time to move on.”
“Sure, just let me walk out of here in my bathrobe,” I deadpanned.
“There’s no need for that, as funny as it would be. You’re a magical girl, with all that it entails; even brand new, you should have access to your innate magic, with a starter outfit and weapon included. Just focus, reach inside of you, and pull.”
Mascot wasn’t lying; once he’d made me aware of the possibility, it didn’t take long at all to take hold of the power inside me. A slippery little thing, but now that my intent was clear, its struggles were futile as I bent my will upon this strange piece of myself. The bathrobe fell to the floor, forgotten as my body went briefly intangible, accompanied by enough flashing lights to fill a christmas tree. Then I was back, and fully dressed to boot, complete with the familiar feeling of being choked up top.
“Why is my magical girl outfit a suit and tie?”
Admittedly, it was very well made, tailored to my proportions in a way I’d never been able to afford before, and getting it for free really helped take the sting off of losing my apartment and all the clothes therein. Black jacket and trousers and a white undershirt, and three gold buttons to add a slice of glamour to an old classic. A pair of stiletto boots, heels higher than anything I’d worn before yet perfectly balanced with every step I took. Even a fedora of all things, with a wide brim that kept the light out of my eyes and most of my face veiled in shadow. A good suit to be sure, but the question remained.
“Your starter outfit is a reflection of your own present self-image, something formed through your life experience. Formal wear is a common first stage for magical girls who contract in the upper age bracket, while school uniforms are the norm for those on the lower end. As you evolve and grow, so too will your attire. Active modifications are possible as well, once certain criteria are met.”
There was a certain irony in finding the resolve to abandon my previous life wholesale, only to be stuck with the same wardrobe, but free was free, so I couldn’t really complain. Instead, I reached back into the depths of what I was beginning to call my soul, looking for the second piece of the puzzle, the weapon I was granted by dint of my newfound status. To my annoyance, this took significantly more effort than the suit; like walking through molasses, it fought my summoning every step of the way. I wasn’t one to give up however, so I persisted, even as sweat beaded on my brow, until at last with one final tug, I pulled it free.
“Congratulations; it’s not easy to call your weapon in the absence of an actual threat. You’re already somewhat ahead of the curve.”
I paid Mascot no mind, busy as I was examining my weapon. It was a cane, of the sort common to the wardrobes of high society centuries ago, carved from hardwood without even the slightest hint of metal visible beneath the ebony finish. I’d never held a cane before, as they’d fallen out of fashion as an accessory long before I was born, except as an assistive tool for the injured and the elderly. Surprisingly, it felt right, the wood molding itself into my hand as I ran through a series of movements. Nothing complicated, just a few rapid jabs followed by wide sweeps to and fro, finishing up with a spin as I caught the hook perfectly to bring it to a halt.
“It feels right,” I repeated aloud. “Though I’m not sure how much good a cane will do against a demon. I’ve seen videos of the bigger ones resisting artillery shells.”
“On the contrary, the more distant the weapon, the weaker it is in combating the enemy,” Mascot tutted. “I don’t mean in terms of range, either, but rather how personal the weapon is to the process of war. Modern combat doctrine idolises range, it’s all guns, drones and planes from far away, using computers to calculate trajectory to strike an enemy from beyond human sight. There’s no will in such methods, no emotion, no magic, and so it falls short. Demons are beings of magic more than flesh, you see; the symbolism is important. A brave old man whacking one with his walker will do more than a hundred rounds fired from afar, because it takes bravery to get up close and personal, to risk your own life and death upon that singular engagement. But enough about that; you’re unlikely to see a major incursion any time soon, and there are more suitable targets upon which to build your strength. I’ve talked your ears off enough as it is, so let’s get moving.”
Mascot leapt from his chair, walking on solid ground for once as he headed for the door as I followed sedately behind him. I paused as we passed the desk, part of me sorely tempted to grab the wine bottle on the way out, but I managed to hold off, reasoning that if I was heading towards a fight as the cat’s words indicated, then it was better to do so sober. The door clicked open ahead of us, likely another subtle use of telekinesis, and then we were gone. The corridor was empty as we emerged, Mascot leading the way to the staircase. Three short flights later, and we were on the ground floor; I half-expected someone to stop us at this point, but none of the staff even looked our way as we departed.
“I’ve cast a mild illusion to discourage the nosy,” Mascot confided. “Make it so nobody questions the talking cat. Combined with a virus for the cameras, we should be in the clear. This is a one-off, I should mention, a bit of cleaning up after myself, since I was the one to bring you here. No point dropping you straight into the deep end.”
“How’d you get so good with technology anyway?” I wondered as we emerged into the sun, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the light. “The magic bit I understand, but are all mascots computer wizards too?”
“It’s not an innate part of our being, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mascot shrugged, his shoulders impressively expressive for a cat on all fours. “But, well, there’s only so many ways we can interact with humanity without drawing excessive attention. The internet is a level playing field in that respect, anyone can be anybody online, even a cat can be a teacher, or a gamer, or a lawyer. It’s certainly made life a lot more convenient; that, and the lack of witch trials.”
I was reasonably sure Mascot was joking on that last point, seeing as magical girls were very much a new millennium phenomenon, but not quite sure enough to call him out on it. Silence proved the better option, as I spent the time getting used to walking with a cane, all the while enjoying my first bit of sunlight in over a week; it was liberating, not to have to get up before sunrise, slave the whole day away in the office and only leave after dark, as had been the regular routine during the winter months. I wasn’t sure where the cat was taking me, but for the time being, I was simply content to follow along. London wasn’t much, in many respects, but for me it was home.