Mage Tank

Chapter 168: Pool Party Farewell

My knowledge of Japanese hot springs was assuredly lacking, as my understanding primarily came from anime and a couple of late-night internet rabbit holes. I’d done my best to make it as authentic as possible, although it was impossible for the ‘spring’ to be naturally sourced since it had been artificially constructed in a pocket dimension.

There were two entrances to the spring through rooms constructed of light-colored wood similar to Umbrella Pine, one each for men and women. Each room had a series of cubbies for storing personal items, not that any of us needed them with our inventories. There were also a few roomy shower stalls, complete with small stools, buckets, washcloths, and soap.

The typical custom was to wash first, then hot spring after to keep the water and facilities clean. Again, this step was somewhat superfluous since Grotto had installed a series of cleaning weaves throughout to keep the place maintained in our absence. We still took the opportunity to rinse down and enjoy the feeling of hot running water over our bodies for the first time in months.

Ideally, the spring itself would have held majestic views of expansive landscapes and mountainous beauty, but I didn’t have that much space to work with yet. We opted instead for the aesthetic of a grotto–a flooded cave, not the Delve Core–with natural stone features crafted to allow the hot and humid air to create airflow through the space as it rose.

The main bath was a hundred feet long and eighty feet wide, slightly oval, and rimmed with bright stone with light red veins running through it. The bottom of the pool was smooth and polished, with a criss-cross pattern of slight grit to help prevent slipping. The water let off a light vapor, and the chamber was filled with a noticeable amount of steam, though not enough to be oppressive.

The spring itself bubbled up from a reservoir I’d harvested from a mountain stream in Hiward, heated and moved through a series of weaves created by Grotto–the Delve Core, not the flooded cave–and it fell into the pool from two locations. One was a gentle series of stone waterfalls that made its way into the water with light, pleasant gurgles. The second was a more aggressive waterfall that cascaded from a shelf thirty feet above. That one was at the far end of the pool, and a sound-dampening weave kept it from creating too much noise in the enclosed space.

The area also doubled as one of the Closet’s greenhouses. Lush plant life grew around the pool, in adjoining caves, and up on stone platforms. The adjoining nooks and caves had benches and tables amidst small trees and other vegetation. Each room had specialty glowstones that emitted light that could take the place of the sun, allowing the plants to flourish in its absence.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that authentic.

“When did you have time to build all this?” asked Xim, stepping out from the ladies' entrance with a towel wrapped around her.

“That’s when you visited the academies,” she said. “You did both?”

“I did a lot of things. I like to stay busy.”

[A significant amount of the work fell to me,] Grotto thought to us. [He primarily directed the construction.]

“I also funded it, designed it, delivered all the materials, and did most of the manual labor.”

“Wait,” said Etja. She had her towel tied in a toga-style to make room for all of her arms. “What did Grotto do then?”

[I modified the dimensional space, constructed the weaves, drafted the architecture, and handled most of the botanical elements.]

“It was a team effort,” I said.

“Why did Grotto decide to do all this for you?” asked Xim.

“When I agreed to let him build the Pocket Delve, there were some concessions.”

[He charged me for the materials I needed, which I paid back with labor.]

“That’s kind of mercenary,” said Xim.

“That’s not–” I narrowed my eyes at the little octo. “We agreed to partner and assist one another with both sides of the Closet. I’m not keeping a ledger or anything.”

[I am.]

“Really? Not surprising, I guess. Where do we stand?”

[Depending on how you value my work, I currently have a 1,000-hour deficit.]

“Oh?” I said. “How have you been valuing your work?”

[One golden note per hour.]

Nuralie made a choking noise, which was the only reason I noticed she’d made her way into the main room.

“That is a very high rate,” said the loson.

“So by your accounting, Grotto, you owe me 20 ruby chips worth of labor?”

[Indeed.]

“Good to know, not that I’m going to hold you to it.” I walked forward, appreciating the feel of bare feet against the warm stone. “Come on, let me show you all a few things.”

We made our way to a series of 3 large, circular tubs made from the same light wood as the entry buildings. I pointed to one with red glyphs carved into it and turned to Varrin.

“Since Hiwardians have a natural resistance to hot and cold, this first tub has a weave that keeps the water just shy of boiling.” I pointed to the third tub. This one had blue glyphs. “This one keeps the water just above freezing.”

Varrin stroked his chin and nodded.

“And the one in the middle?” he asked.

“A little warmer than room temp, in case you want to balance out before swapping between them.”

“That is very thoughtful,” he said.

I smiled and wandered off to a space near the gentler waterfall. There was a shallower pool surrounded with moss and fungus, with a dozen recesses of various sizes cut into the rock. There were also false rocks and logs with hollowed interiors made from ceramic.

“This one has a milder temperature and a lot of good places for amphibians to hide. I made this one–” I turned to see Nuralie already holding three frogs. One was her pet Bertegog. I didn’t know the names of the others.

She stepped forward and sat Bert down, who took a hop into the shallow pool and croaked in approval as he splashed around. She let the other two frogs loose, one of which immediately made its way under a log to relax on a bed of moss. Several more frogs followed until she’d unleashed a dozen amphibians–ranging from as small as a dart frog to as large as a bulldog–then she made intense eye contact with me.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course,” I replied. We held eye contact for just longer than a normal loson pause, then I made my way to a spot on the floor with a small trap door. I reached down and opened the door, revealing a pitch-black chamber.

“This is a sensory deprivation pool,” I said, looking at Xim. “It’s warded against sound and the water is salinated so it’s easier to float. The walls and floor are made from Madrin, where Grotto inset a generic Divine weave. There’s room to add sigils for a specific deity, so I figure you can carve some symbols for Sam’lia in there and get some good communion in.”

“Wow,” said Xim. “I’ve never tried it this way.”

“There’s also some hallucinogenic mushrooms around,” I said, gesturing to a small garden a dozen feet away. “I remember you saying that certain substances can make the barrier between layers subjectively thinner. Hopefully, they work. If not, have fun anyway.”

She grinned and gave me a spine-crushing hug, then wandered off to the garden and bent down to start sniffing the offerings. I turned to Etja.

“And for my favorite musical mage, we have an acoustic cavern.” I led her to a cave that was rectangular with flat walls. “Now, I know there are a lot of different considerations for sound,” I said, leading her to a section of the wall with various glyphs. “This is a control unit that lets you change the shape of the room and also adjust the water features.”

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I tapped the first glyph, and water began dripping from the ceiling in a rhythmic pattern. I tapped the glyph next to it, which changed the rhythm. Then I tapped a few more, allowing the cavern walls to adjust to having slats that absorbed sound and dampened reverb, to taking on a variety of facets to diffuse the sound, and finally opening the entrance to the rest of the spring and creating a fan shape.

“This last one lets the sound carry if you feel like serenading us.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” said Etja, eyes wide.

“I mean, as long as you like it, don’t feel like you need to say anything.”

Etja smiled and nodded, then gave me a far more pleasant hug than Xim had.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m gonna swim first!”

Etja flew toward the main pool, her towel sailing off as she swooped into the steaming hot water.

I sighed in contentment, happy that my ideas had gone over well. I turned to look at Shog floating next to me, his downy feathers beginning to sag in the humidity.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what to make you,” I said. “But there’s a pond stocked with fish if you’re hungry. They’re violent, predatory fish so they might put up a fight. If you have any other ideas let me know.”

Shog looked me over, his expression inscrutable.

“Why did you do all of this?” he asked.

I scratched my beard and thought about my response.

“I just wanted us all to have a good place to relax, since we hardly get the time to. Trying to figure out what each person might enjoy and making it for them was fun. I’m glad they seem to like it.”

“But why?”

“Hmm. If I assume you’re not a believer in true benevolence,” I said, then paused as I glanced at Shog. “Probably a safe assumption. But if you want a self-serving reason, then it makes me feel good to help other people feel good.”

Shog thought about that, tentacles swishing.

“You share in their happiness,” he said. “Their mental well-being is your own.”

“That’s one way to look at it. I try not to think about it too hard.” I started to sigh again, and it turned into a yawn halfway through. “Moral philosophy can be exhausting.”

“Sentimentality is often a weakness that will be exploited,” Shog added. “If your joy is linked to the joy of others, then you will also share in their pain when it is lost.” I considered replying but held off. My summon looked like he was working through something complicated.“A c’thon’s strength is strength given for their brood,” he continued. “If you are brought low by despair, then all who rely upon you will suffer. If I held a mindset such as yours, other c’thon would prey on those whose emotions bled over to me. It would endanger them twice. Once from my foes, and again when their suffering rendered me weakened.”

“But you do care in some sense?”

“It is a matter of survival,” Shog answered. “All c’thon are hunters, and a lone c’thon is easy prey. When a member of the brood dies, the brood becomes more vulnerable as a whole.”

“Maybe that works for c’thons, but I think the average human needs the carrot and stick of empathy to get to the same place. We can be selfish and fixated on our needs in the present, but if there’s a neurochemical incentive to give a shit about other people, then we’re all more likely to watch out for one another and survive.” I crossed my arms and checked to see if Shog was still with me.

“Elaborate,” he said.

“Right. Let’s say I live in a society of two people. It’s just me and my broodmate Bill. If Bill’s around, I’m more likely to survive being attacked by a predator. So, I want to make sure that Bill stays alive. However, Bill’s only utility to me is that he improves my chances of survival. As soon as that is no longer true, I have no reason to keep Bill around.

“Let’s say Bill breaks his leg. Now, Bill is a liability. If I’m hunting food for two, carrying him around everywhere, and being forced to stay in one place to protect him, my own survival is at risk. Bill no longer serves the function of helping me live, so I abandon Bill. In this situation, Bill will certainly die somehow. Let’s say some wolves find him and he’s weak from dehydration and exposure. He can’t fight back, so he’s eaten. There’s no guarantee that I will find anyone else to be my broodmate, so this also harms my own chance of survival.

“But what if I felt some part of the pain Bill felt? I know the agony of a broken bone. I know the fear of having my life threatened. The thought of leaving Bill behind fills me with a deep dread that the same could happen to me. I want to protect Bill because I’d want Bill to protect me in the same situation. I have more incentive to save Bill, even at some risk to myself, so I do my best to care for Bill and try to get him back on his feet. Even so, this phantom pain isn’t as bad as real pain, and it’s not enough for me to risk serious injury to help Bill. I’ll stick around until the wolves actually show up, then abandon Bill to save myself. In this scenario, Bill’s chances of survival are higher since he’s no longer suffering dehydration and exposure, and I’ve avoided most of the risk by fleeing the predators. Still, I am, again, alone.

“Now let’s say that I not only share some of Bill’s pain but also some of Bill’s happiness. When Bill laughs, I laugh, so I want to make Bill laugh. Bill enjoys laughing, so he enjoys having me around, and because he also shares this emotional bleeding he also wants to make me laugh. It’s a positive feedback loop, leading to both Bill and I valuing one another not only because we keep each other alive, but also because we are each a source of positive emotions for the other.”

“All that laughing will draw the attention of the predators you are seeking to avoid,” said Shog.

“Assume it’s silent laughter. Anyway, when Bill breaks his leg, I not only feel the phantom fear and pain of being in that same situation but also the fear that all of our laughter and hijinks will disappear. I’ll experience a strong sense of loss if Bill dies since this source of positive feelings will go away. These combine to create a strong incentive for me to save Bill. I share his pain and want to help fix it, and I fear the loss of his companionship, in addition to the loss of security if I were to end up alone.

“When the wolves come, the risk-reward math has changed. Bill has a lot more value for me. So, I’m much more likely to fight for Bill. Bill isn’t suffering from exposure and dehydration since I’ve cared for him, so he can try to contribute as we fight the wolves together. This vastly increases Bill’s chance of survival, but it is also the most immediate risk to me. However, if Bill survives and recovers, we’re still together with the highest chance of continued survival.”

“You believe that this last situation produces the most advantageous outcome?”

“I’m just talking out of my ass,” I said. “It’s illustrating different levels of social interreliance, hopefully in terms you might understand. I don’t necessarily buy into the idea that empathy acts solely as a survival mechanism, but it’s an interesting way to think about it.”

By this point, the others were all in the main pool, talking and splashing and swimming. Nuralie was darting around under the surface faster than I could shine a laser pointer, leaving barely a ripple in her wake. A casual swipe from Xim sent about 40 gallons of water spraying over Etja, who responded by creating a small tidal wave with Siphon. I probably needed a bigger pool.

At this moment one might wonder–entirely for the sake of having an accurate imagining of the scene before me–what the dress code at my hot spring was. In short, I was open to any and all cultural practices. As it was, the cultures present didn’t care much for swimming attire.

Hiward had a custom of communal bathing from their time under the thumbs of the Littans, where hygiene was carried out in group facilities. Public bathhouses were the norm, and there was seldom any gender segregation. Clothing and swimsuits were disallowed in such places since loose articles and fibers clogged drains and made cleaning more difficult.

Geulons like Nuralie usually bathed outdoors, which meant that privacy and modesty were not particularly large concerns. The Xor’Drels required nudity for half of their rituals, so everyone in the tribe had seen everything everyone else had going on. Thus, there were few taboos or insecurities around letting it all hangout.

Etja just went with the flow, and I wasn’t about to make it weird by being the odd man out. I still had on my towel for the moment, though.

Shog and Grotto were always naked.

“I would like to return home for a while,” said Shog as he watched the group. “I have much to contemplate, and I must ensure that my brood endures.”

“Okay,” I said. “You know I don’t view you as a summon, right?”

“In what way?”

“You’re not something for me to call and dismiss as I please. I think of you as a party member, so if you need to step out, you’re always welcome to.”

“Words such as these loosen my bonds. Are you comfortable giving me so much freedom?”

“You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you, Shog. I’m willing to risk it.” Shog made a contemplative growl in response. “How long do you need?”

“I will require at least a year.”

“Oh? Damn. That’s… longer than I was expecting.”

“Does that change your mind?”

“No,” I said. “Just thinking through what that means for us.”

“If the need is great, then you may call upon me at any time.”

“Good to know. I’ll only summon you back if it’s a real emergency.”

“Then I will take my leave, Slayer.” A portal opened next to Shog, and he gave me a final look. “Be wary to whom you give gifts, for you may shape worlds you’ll never see.” He stepped through the portal and back to his home dimension, then the tear in reality closed with a pop.

I grunted, seeing that my summoning skill had ended without my input.

“Guess that’s what ‘loosening’ his bonds means,” I muttered. “Bro really had to leave right after dropping some cryptic bullshit.”

“Are you just going to stand out there?” asked Xim. I looked down to see she’d swum over to the edge nearby, resting her arms on the pool’s lip.

“Sorry,” I said. “Just having a heart-to-heart with Shog.”

“Yeah? Where’d he run off to?”

“Back home,” I said. “He’ll be back in a year.”

“A year?” she said. “He’s that sick of us?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But I get the feeling the next time we see him, a lot will have changed. For him and us.”

Xim squinted at me.

“He could have at least said bye,” she said. “Eh, oh well. Come on and get in. We’ve only got so much time to relax.”

“Aye aye,” I said, tossing my towel to the side and doing a cannonball, completely disrespecting the tranquility of the bath.

Yeah, really not a traditional experience.

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