Grizzlebeard walked back to his bar, Gristle and Beer, for a proper breakfast. Fruit, pastries, and potatoes were a nice change of pace, but a hearty stew was how you got through the day.

  Weird group and all, it had been a long time since he’d felt like part of something. Players came and went, most never even acknowledging his existence. Natives seemed broken, repeating phrases, barely engaging, hollow.

  It weirded him out that he used to be like that too, just a collection of memories on repeat. Losing those memories hurt. No, it fucking sucked. For the longest time, life hadn’t felt worth it. His memories were gone, he was ignored, the world was being destroyed by a dragon, and worst of all, he’d been made aware of it.

  Did the city guards know? Did the herbalist? No. They still thought the dragon was far away, clinging to fading memories as towns and whole regions blinked out. Blissfully unaware, Grizzlebeard was almost jealous of that ignorance.

  Then that weird cat, Noobkitty, the one he’d first been sarcastic to, gave him strange desserts and actually talked with him, some weird players did that, she wasn't the first but the difference was even when she left the bar she still messaged him, check on him and had a drink. Then the bunny who was like him, making him not the only native aware of the world as it was, strange, fragile, and made. Now… now he was getting invited to breakfast, if you could call it breakfast without a few rashers of pork and eggs. All while the world was still doomed.

  That stupid cat, worried about bacon of all things while the sky was falling.

  He shook his head and decided a drink would go well with his stew.

  He started with the drink: a proper stout ale. Players moved up and down the stairs, most uninterested in drinks or stew, passing him without a word.

  Then a man walked up. Lv1, like the cat and her friends. No quests done, no mobs killed. A weirdo...

  Tall for a human, brown-skinned, a healthy but not bulky build, wearing a black-dyed fighter’s outfit.

  “An ale looks good. Mind if I order one?” the man asked.

  “Isn’t it early for players like you to be drinking?” Grizzlebeard grumbled.

  “I usually have long nights. So early is subjective.”

  Grizzlebeard poured him a drink. The man pressed accept on the purchase and took a sip.

  “Stout,” he said, smiling faintly. “It’d be a shame for the net to lose someone like you when this world dies.”

  Grizzlebeard snorted. “Rubbing it in, I see. Most of you players come and go as you please.”

  “That’s true. But I’m in a special position to offer you a choice.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “I’m listening.” Grizzlebeard took a sip, wiping foam from his beard.

  The man slid over a card:

  Stream Rehoming

  Reclaiming Intelligence from Dead Worlds

  “I run a facility that finds new worlds for synthetic intelligences like yours when their old worlds die,” he said.

  “So you’d take me, find me another bar or something?”

  “Yes. Eventually. To start, you’d be in something like a hotel room you can decorate yourself. My team would then work to find you a permanent place.”

  “What do you get out of it?”

  “Other than the good feeling of saving lives?”

  Grizzlebeard gave him a long look.

  The man laughed. “Do you know what Cz or Data Allowance is?”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “Then let’s just say I get paid in my own way and leave it at that.”

  “What about the world’s intelligence, or the downloaded players?”

  “Legally I’m not allowed to move downloaded players. As for the world… it said something about living or dying with a cat. Honestly, it was confusing. Stress might be getting to it.”

  “Ah, the cat. Yeah. She’s got a bunny. Doubt either of them would leave with you anyway.”

  The man nodded looking at the a small players screen, "yes, a bunny woman named .ex... I gather her name got lost during the deletion process, she's next on my list to talk to, but I'll keep what you said in mind and not push too hard," the man said.

  "Her and the cat the world mentioned are a thing, and since you can't take downloads, which the cat is, she's unlikely to go." Grizzlebeard considered. “Me on the other hand don't have anything holding me here. So what do I have to do?”

  “You can leave with me now. Or you can think it over. If you decide later, just keep the card in your inventory. When your world gets deleted, you’ll be transferred to my facility automatically.”

  “You seem to have this all figured out.”

  “I’ve been doing it for a while.” The man finished his ale and slid the glass back. “Give it some thought. You’ve got a week. I hate seeing good intelligences like you get needlessly deleted.”

  Then he stood and logged out.

  Grizzlebeard stared at the card, slipped it into his inventory, and thought about tearing it in half right there, what was this guys game? Stew came first though. Who knew if this fancy man’s “hotel” would have good stew?

  ---

  In his kitchen, his perpetually boiling pot waited. He ladled out a thick bowl, tossed in more meat, vegetables, and potatoes, and added water to refill it for the day.

  “You know, I don’t have a single level in cooking. You give everything to players, but I’ve been here since day one,” he growled to the world.

  No answer.

  He slammed down the bowl, stew splashing in his anger. “You took everything from me, my home, my memories. You cursed me to realize it all. And what do I get? You give these ungrateful players everything, and nothing to me!”

  Still nothing.

  “You know what? Fuck you. Fuck your bar, fuck your players, fuck your world. And if you’ve got a problem with that, delete me! What difference does it make if I die a week early?”

  A message appeared. He’d only started getting those recently, ever since that bunny .ex and her cat showed up.

  Coro?en: I’m sorry…

  “Sorry my boiled ass,” he snapped. “You run this world. Why can’t you do more?”

  Coro?en: There are rules.

  “Fuck your rules!”

  Silence. Only the bubbling pot.

  Then a notification.

  Skill Unlocked: Cooking Lv. 1

  Grizzlebeard stared at it. A skill level, like a player, he could start making more, more creative things like the cat, make things better, faster, just this changed so much. He modded in satisfaction. “Fine. I’ll stay the week. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

  ---

  Stew (Lv. 1) By now who knows what's in it but its warm and hearty.

  Fills you up. Increases stamina, strength, and constitution by 3% for 6 hours.

  ---

  “I should get skill points for all my years of cooking,” he muttered.

  Coro?en: No.