Mrs. Gable's house was a portal to another era. The moment Chris stepped inside, he entered a space that felt curated, loved, and lived-in. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish, old books, and something warm and sweet that was probably baking. The living room was small but tidy, filled with dark, polished wood furniture, a comfortable-looking floral-patterned sofa, and dozens of framed photographs that chronicled a long and happy life. It was the polar opposite of his own home, which felt more like a temporary storage facility for three loosely-affiliated individuals.
"The patient is this way," Mrs. Gable said, her voice dry, and a touch amused. She led him through the living room and into a small, sunlit room at the back of the house that she clearly used as a den.
The room was cozy, with a comfortable armchair, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf packed with well-worn paperbacks, and a small, elegant writing desk. And on that desk, looking out of place, was the patient.
It was an ancient, beige desktop computer, a relic from the dawn of the home computing era. The tower was a hulking, plastic behemoth, its color yellowed with age. The monitor was a thick, heavy CRT model that probably weighed more than Chris did. A tangled nest of gray cables snaked from the back of the machine to a power strip on the floor.
"This is the contraption," Mrs. Gable said, pointing a delicate, age-spotted finger at the machine. "It was working perfectly fine yesterday. I was video-chatting with my granddaughter, Amelia. She was showing me the large zucchini she grew in her garden. Then, this morning, nothing. It has ceased to be."
Chris, playing the part of a seasoned tech expert, adopted a grave, serious expression. He circled the desk slowly, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He ran a hand along the top of the dusty monitor.
Then, when Mrs. Gable's back was turned as she straightened a framed photo on the wall, he activated his [INSPECT] ability.
The translucent blue data window appeared in his vision. The System's diagnosis was instantaneous, clear, and wonderfully, laughably simple.
[Object: Desktop Computer (Dell Dimension, circa 2004)]
[Status: Offline]
[System Diagnosis: Critical Failure.]
[Reason: Primary monitor data cable (VGA) is disconnected from port.]
Chris had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The cable was unplugged. All of Mrs. Gable's panic, all of his mother's worry—it all came down to a single, loose plug.
He stood up, his expression one of deep, professional concern. He turned to Mrs. Gable.
"I see the problem," he said, his voice a low, serious baritone. "It appears to be a data-flow obstruction."
Mrs. Gable raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Is that what the young people are calling it these days? In my day, we just called it 'broken.'"
"It's a bit more complicated than that," Chris continued, warming to his role. He was improvising, pulling from a deep well of technobabble he had absorbed from years of watching science fiction movies. "The primary video feed isn't syncing with the motherboard. I'm going to have to attempt a manual reseating of the primary video cable to re-establish the connection. It's a delicate procedure."
"I see," Mrs. Gable said, her lips twitching with what looked suspiciously like a suppressed smile. "Well, do be careful, wizard. That machine contains my only access to pictures of my great-grandson."
Chris nodded gravely. He then, with great ceremony, got down on his hands and knees and crawled under the desk. The space was cramped and smelled of old carpet and dust bunnies the size of small rodents. He made a few grunting sounds for effect, the sound of a man engaged in a difficult and strenuous technical task.
He found the cable immediately. The thick, gray VGA cable, with its distinctive blue end, was just lying on the floor, having clearly been knocked out of its port, probably by an errant foot. He picked it up, blew on the end with a puff of air like he was blowing dust out of an old video game cartridge, and firmly plugged it back into the monitor port. He gave it a little tug to make sure it was secure.
He crawled back out from under the desk, brushing a hand through his hair. "The reseating was a success," he announced, his voice filled with imaginary professional pride. "Let's see if we can reboot the system."
He reached over and pressed the large, circular power button on the beige tower. The machine whirred to life with the sound of a small jet engine. The monitor, which had been blank, flickered once, twice, and then bloomed with the pixelated glory of the Windows XP startup screen.
Mrs. Gable gasped, a small, delighted sound. "You've done it! It's alive!"
The computer finished booting up, and the desktop background appeared. It was a slightly blurry, low-resolution photo of a tiny, fluffy white kitten sleeping in a flower pot.
"You're a genius, Christopher," Mrs. Gable said, her voice filled with amazement. "A miracle worker."
A bright, cheerful notification flashed in Chris's HUD, the triumphant ding sounding in his mind.
[Quest Completed! 100 XP Awarded!]
[+10 Community Standing]
He had done it. He had completed the escort quest and had been handsomely rewarded. He felt a surge of pride, a feeling that was only slightly diminished by the fact that his heroic, genius-level act had been plugging in a cable.
"It was nothing," he said, a humble, self-deprecating smile on his face. "Just a matter of knowing where to look."
"Nonsense," Mrs. Gable insisted. "That was hard work, and hard work deserves a reward. You stay right there. Don't you move a muscle."
She bustled out of the den, her small frame moving with a surprising speed. Chris stood there awkwardly for a moment, not sure what to do. He could hear the faint sounds of clinking and clattering from the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned. In her hands, she held a small, delicate china plate. And on that plate was a small stack of still-warm, fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. The rich, sweet aroma of melted chocolate and brown sugar filled the room.
"I just pulled these out of the oven," she said, holding the plate out to him. "A little something for the wizard."
"Oh, you don't have to do that," he said, even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation.
"I insist," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
He took one of the cookies. It was warm and soft, the chocolate chips still gooey and melted. The moment his fingers touched the cookie, a new, glowing notification materialized in his vision. It was different from a quest notification. It was an item identification, the kind that appeared when you picked up a rare or magical item.
[Legendary Consumable Acquired: Mrs. Gable's Cookies]
[Effect: Grants "+10 EP Regen for 1 hour" buff upon consumption. Restores 5% of max EP instantly.]
[Flavor Text: "Tastes like a happy childhood memory."]
Chris stared at the notification, the warm cookie in his hand suddenly feeling significant. A legendary consumable. He had just been given a legendary-tier buff item, disguised as a simple, homemade cookie. The flavor text was so perfectly, absurdly wholesome it almost made him laugh. He had a feeling the System had a soft spot for grandmothers.
He took a bite. The cookie was, without a doubt, the single greatest chocolate chip cookie he had ever eaten in his entire life. It was the perfect balance of sweet and salty, crispy on the edges and chewy in the middle. The flavor text was right. It did taste like a happy memory. As he chewed, he felt a warm, pleasant energy spread through his body. He checked his HUD. His EP bar, which had been slightly depleted from his earlier inspections, was now full.
"These are amazing," he said, his mouth full of legendary goodness.
Mrs. Gable just smiled, a knowing, satisfied look on her face. "It's an old family recipe."
As he was finishing the first cookie, a new thought seemed to occur to Mrs. Gable. She looked at him, her bright eyes appraising him once more.
"You know, Christopher," she said, her tone thoughtful. "You are so capable, dear. I have another little problem, if you have a moment. It's not a technical one, I assure you."
Chris, feeling helpful and buoyed by the legendary cookies, found himself agreeing before he had even heard the request. "Sure, what is it?"
"My late husband, Arthur," she said, her voice softening slightly at the name, "he had a little workshop in the garage. He was always tinkering with something. It's filled with his old things. I've been meaning to clear some of it out for years, but I just haven't had the strength. There are a few boxes I've packed up for the recycling pickup. Could you possibly help me move them to the curb?"
A new quest notification immediately appeared in his HUD.
[Quest: A Neighbor's Burden]
[Objective: Help Mrs. Gable clean out the garage.]
[Reward: 50 XP, +5 Community Standing, ???]
Another mystery reward. His heart gave a little flutter of anticipation. And 50 XP for just moving a few boxes? This was the most profitable afternoon he'd had in a while.
"Of course," he said, his voice full of unforced helpfulness. "I'd be happy to."
He followed Mrs. Gable through her neat, tidy kitchen and out into the attached garage. The space was not the cluttered, chaotic mess he had expected. It was a time capsule. A large, sturdy workbench stood against one wall, a pegboard above it holding a neat, orderly collection of hand tools, each one in its designated spot. On the bench sat a half-finished birdhouse, a small pile of wood shavings swept neatly to one side. The air smelled of sawdust and a clean, masculine scent.
In a corner, designated for recycling, Chris saw the objective. It was a neat, tidy pile. There were several large, heavy-looking cardboard boxes, taped shut and clearly labeled "Old Records." Next to them were several large, clear plastic bags, tied at the top. They were filled with old plastic milk jugs and soda bottles, all rinsed and crushed.
Chris walked over to the pile, his mind already calculating the weight of the boxes. He activated his [INSPECT] ability on the pile, a simple, diagnostic scan to see what he was dealing with.
The HUD lit up with a satisfying, unexpected chime.
[Material Detected: High-Grade Polymer (Plastic) - Approx. 4kg]
Chris froze. He stared at the clear plastic bags filled with what he had assumed was just trash. It wasn't trash. It was a resource. It was the next major component for his lawnmower quest.
A second notification immediately confirmed it.
[Quest Objective Updated: Scavenger Hunt]
[Objective Met: Acquire 3kg Polymer (Plastic)]
He stared at the pile of "junk," a slow grin spreading across his face. He had just found exactly what he needed, hidden in the most unexpected place. A simple act of kindness, a quest he had only accepted because of the promise of a mystery reward, had provided an unexpected boost to his own personal project. The universe was giving him synergies.