Chapter Text
Bentheim. A planet of industry, the premier spaceport of the Bright Republic, an interstellar republic that spanned multiple systems. Dorum, its capital city. A beautiful and bustling metropolis full of greenery and walking paths, with traffic rushing by overhead in flying cars and shuttles. Mechs, humanoid robots the size of buildings, patrolled the streets, keeping the citizens safe. By the standards of my first life, the living circumstances of my second life were incredibly futuristic and advanced.
Unfortunately, I knew the truth. Compared to the Terran Confederation and the New Rubarthan Empire, the Bright Republic was an insignificant backwater full of 'space peasants,' the likes of which barely even counted as human beings in comparison. Bentheim itself was doomed to be destroyed in an alien invasion because the Common Fleet Alliance and the Mech Trade Association, the organizations who should have protected the Bright Republic, were slow to defend a 'mere' third-rate state. No, the only significant thing to come out of the Bright Republic would be Ves Larkinson, the hero of a webnovel I had read in my previous life called 'The Mech Touch.' Although the notion of knowing the future from memories of a novel read in a past life was odd, I had done enough independent research to learn that the Larkinson family was real and that a few of the side characters I remembered from it also existed. If I wasn't crazy and those memories were accurate, Ves Larkinson would someday inherit a mystical Mech Designer System that would later turn out to be a fragment of a cultivation artifact called the Metal Scroll, and become one of the most important figures in multiple galaxies.
Too bad for me, I hadn't reincarnated into his body. I had been reborn as an ordinary Bentheimer named Nolan Smith, the son of middle-class parents. Luckily or unluckily, on my tenth birthday I had been diagnosed as a non-potentate, a member of the 96.5% of the population that lacked the markers for genetic compatibility with the Neural Interfaces that allowed for the control of Mechs. Knowing what I did about the premise of the series and the many things that would happen in the future, I knew that planning to live my life out in the Bright Republic was basically rolling the dice and hoping that I wouldn't be killed by aliens, drafted into a war or all of the other potential dead ends that had happened to Ves's home republic. My best bet for success, therefore, was to firmly grasp the protagonist's coattails, apply to his company as a Mech Designer working under him, and hitch a ride as he turned the company into a spaceborne clan of misfits and oddballs.
After decades of studying my ass off as a youth and then a young adult, winning a scholarship to Bentheim's prestigious Ansel University of Mech Design, and gaining the qualifications of a Novice Mech Designer… it turned out that as a Mech Designer, I was fairly mediocre. I graduated with decent grades, but nowhere near the top of my class. Of course, I was competing against students whose parents could afford genetic optimization therapies or cranial implants, so a middle of the road ranking wasn't particularly embarrassing, but in the incredibly competitive field of Mech Design, it was nowhere near enough to ensure a truly successful career.
Ves had a wealthy clan supporting him financially and a magical Mech Designer system that gave him all kinds of irreplaceable technological and metaphysical advantages, and he still nearly went broke trying to make it on his own as an independent mech designer. Even knowing that my plan had been to work for Ves, it still left me feeling uneasy. There was no guarantee he would hire me, after all. What did I have to rely on that could ensure I didn't just die in obscurity with the rest of the population of Bentheim?
The day after my graduation from Ansel University, that question was answered.
"Welcome, Nolan Smith, to the Celestial Forge System."
Halfway through a bite of my morning bagel, glowing words appeared in front of my eyes. My jaw dropped, the bagel falling out of my mouth and clattering onto the plate. I knew of the Celestial Forge, of course - my past life had seen it as a concept in fanfiction. Users of the Forge could tap into crafting insights from across multiple multiverses and get access to resources, tools, or even living assistants from those worlds as well. It was a ridiculous, overpowered boon that I had thought was clearly the domain of fanfiction… but then again, so was the idea of reincarnating into a so-called 'fictional' world. Certainly my new life felt real; there was every possibility that this was real as well. That didn't mean I was going to take it at face value, though.
"Uh, hi. Is this a prank?" I said, reaching up to wave my hand through the glowing words. Doubt warred with excitement in my mind as my hand passed through without affecting them, showing that at least they weren't mere holographic projections.
"You have chosen the profession of: Mech Designer."
"As compensation for your years of study, you have been granted three free chances to draw skills from the Forge."
As the words sunk in, I couldn't help but feel nervous. Some of the stuff I vaguely remembered from the Forge was straight-up supernatural. Would I get an extradimensional workspace to build in? How would I hide that sort of thing? On the other hand, if the Forge created something out of thin air right in front of me, it would at least be proof that I wasn't crazy.
As if answering my question, the glowing box in front of my face began to display a randomizer almost like a slot machine, with categories flashing one after another. The first bar stopped at 'Facilities,' followed quickly by 'Mundane', then finally 'Auto Shop'. Although it didn't sound like anything fancy, my mind still seethed with exciting possibilities. An aircar repair place could probably be used to service Mechs, and more to the point, having a place to work out of that I didn't have to buy or pay rent on would let me do profitable work just by dropping my prices below my competitors!
Unfortunately, as the screen flashed again, I learned I wasn't quite so lucky.
"ERROR: Dimensional Variance is preventing physical item delivery," it said. "Compensating with skills of equivalent value… [Repair I] and [Automotive Knowledge I]."
Any doubts I had about the veracity of the system died as I felt a sudden rush of knowledge enter my brain. How to handle workshop tools, how to use them to put Mechs together or take them apart - I had studied the subject at Ansel, of course, but I was frankly still a relative novice at the physical side of Mech construction. Or, that is, I had been. Now, I felt as though I had years of experience fixing damaged Mechs - and cars, too.
The slightly painful stream of information slowly ebbed, leaving me staring down at my hands and flexed my fingers, trying to understand the newfound knowledge they suddenly carried. I'd have to find some way to verify that the information was actually legit, but… as I looked back at the glowing box, I suddenly noticed that the Celestial Forge was rolling again. "Hey, wait! I'm not ready!" I shouted, only to be ignored.
"Supplies - Magical Large Scale - Holy Stone. Ineligible for delivery. Compensating… [Materials Science (Silicates) I] and [E-Energy (Light) I]."
Another painful influx of data flooded my mind, this one truly esoteric. Rocks didn't have much to do with Mechs outside of a few exceptionally rare cases - my dim memories of the Mech Touch novel I had read over twenty years ago in a prior life vaguely recalled Ves having to make a stone mech for some sort of academic test - but nevertheless, my brain was suddenly stuffed full of lithographic, petrographic, mineralogic, and other assorted stone-related facts. I doubted I would be making a Stone Age Mech anytime soon, but between the two types of information I had just learned it was probably the more helpful of the two. E-Energy, as I recalled, was this world's version of "magic", and the only thing I really remembered about it was that the Milky Way Galaxy didn't have much of it. It only came into play in the events of the story thirty years or so down the line, after a million other things had happened. I was a firm believer in the adage that "there is no useless knowledge," but my reaction to a bunch of knowledge of how to sanctify stone, crystal, and rock using energy I wouldn't have access to for decades definitely left me feeling underwhelmed.
"Great. A bunch of factoids about rocks and prayers," I muttered, clutching at my skull. "Just what I needed," I said sarcastically. As my throbbing headache slowly subsided, I realized with trepidation that even though I felt nauseated and was covered with sweat, there was still one more roll left waiting for me from the Celestial Forge. As if summoned by my thought, the glowing roulette wheels appeared again. "Come on," I said, clenching my teeth against the pounding pain in my head. "If you're gonna torture me, give me something I can use."
Unlike the last two times, on the third try I apparently got a skill that needed only minimal alteration, because rather than any messages about 'compensation' I got a more detailed description. "Mechanic (Fast and Furious). Machines, especially ones that go fast, just speak to you. You have no problem fixing up and tuning any motor vehicle or mech, and can rebuild them after the most devastating crashes. You can keep anything in top condition with just a few simple tools. Of course, you also need to understand the electronics, so hotwiring cars (and sometimes, alarm systems) is not a problem either."
"God - fucking - damn!" I cursed, as the mechanical and car-related knowledge in my brain seared its way into my neurons. "Fuck me, are you trying to make me an auto mechanic instead of a Mech designer? This is the future, nobody even drives cars anymore!" Shakily, I moved my way to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Looking in the mirror, I saw a young man in his early twenties with sandy brown hair, kept short and neat, with slightly bloodshot blue eyes that had just a hint of epicanthal fold. No sign of anything out of the ordinary, no visible sign that decades of specialized knowledge had just been shoved into my skull by an extradimensional force. Again, as if thinking about it summoned it, the glowing dialogue box appeared in front of me one final time.
"Thank you for using the Celestial Forge," it said. "Subsequent purchases from the Forge will require Celestial Points. Celestial Points can be accumulated via the design and production of Mechs and other items."
"Great," I said, sarcasm once again coloring my voice. "Wonderful. There's just one problem," I said. "I'm a broke college graduate. You know, Ves's Mech Designer system gave him free Mech licenses and a bunch of materials to build his Mech out of. You want to maybe do the same thing? Pony up?"
The dialogue box didn't deign to reappear at my taunting. Sighing, I dried my face off and walked back into the kitchen. Luckily even in the future, on a far-flung planet many millions of light years from Earth, they still had coffee. I set the coffeepot to brew another cup, and rummaged around in a drawer until I found some over-the-counter painkillers. I swallowed them dry, not willing to wait until the coffee was ready, then picked up my forgotten toast and started chewing. This changed… everything. Before, I had been if not content, then at least willing to tie my star to Ves. It still wasn't an awful idea, but with the benefit of the Celestial Forge - even a somehow weakened one, like this one appeared to be - I felt like I could join Ves Larkinson as an equal, rather than a subordinate. Maybe that was shallow of me, but given the opportunity to be a person of consequence, why wouldn't I take it? If I could become one of the galaxy's movers and shakers instead of a so-called "space peasant," why wouldn't I reach out to grasp the resources I needed, get the money and power I needed to be able to do more than just drift along the currents of fate?
But to do so, I would need to design and build Mechs. Which meant I needed cash. Mech component parts had to be licensed, which cost money. Even if I could somehow design the frame and all of the parts from scratch - a monumental challenge my current levels of knowledge were nowhere near able to meet - I would still need to pay for proprietary alloy formulas to the materials I was building it out of. And you couldn't build a Mech with the kind of tools you could find in your average auto shop - Mech Forges were expensive, specialized tools. I'd need a place to build them, a source for the physical materials… If I hadn't already had a headache, I would have gotten one just thinking about it.
"Forge? Celestial Forge?" I asked the empty air, feeling kind of foolish. "Do, uh, virtual designs count? Like the ones Ves … made? Is making? For that video game, I think it was called Iron Spirit?"
The Forge didn't answer, but I made a mental note to check it out. As I recalled, even the virtual licenses for really old Mechs cost money, but they were probably orders of magnitude cheaper than a license that could be used to build a commercially competitive Mech in real life. "OK," I said, talking to myself. "Game plan. Step one: get a job. Step two: use money to build VR mechs. Step three: make enough money selling VR mechs to build a real mech." Looking up at the ceiling, I let out a hopeful sigh. "What could go wrong?"