Twenty-two.
The number hung in Vokey's mind like a death sentence. Twenty-two more cryptic combinations of letters and numbers. Twenty-two more definitions likely derived from various flavors of excrement. All this work, just to unlock the privilege of maybe, possibly, summoning a standardized container.
It was worse than inefficient. It was insulting.
"This isn't a path to power, Vex," Vokey snarled at the empty air, addressing the System by his new, preferred moniker. "It's a celestial filing cabinet. I'm not learning magic; I'm organizing the universe's junk drawer."
Vex:Your analogy is noted. However, mastery of the polyatomic ions is essential for predicting chemical reactions. Shall we proceed with the Sulfate group?
"No," Vokey snapped. He began pacing the narrow confines of his cell. He wasn't going to do this. He wasn't going to sit here and brute-force memorize two dozen arbitrary symbols just because some bureaucratic spirit told him to. If this system was as logical as it claimed, there had to be a pattern. A loophole. A way to cheat.
"Show me the list again," he commanded. "All of them."
The oatmeal-colored textbook materialized in his mind. Vokey scanned the entries, his eyes narrowed, searching for commonalities.
Nitrate (NO₃⁻) Nitrite (NO₂⁻) Sulfate (SO₄²⁻) Sulfite (SO₃²⁻) ...
The pattern hit him almost immediately. It was staring him in the face. The suffixes: '-ate' and '-ite'. He remembered his realization from the previous lesson: the '-ite' was just the lazy cousin of the '-ate', having lost an Oxygen atom somewhere along the way.
"It's all about the Oxygen," he muttered. Nearly every ion on the list was just some central element desperately clinging to a cluster of 'O's. "Vex, why is Oxygen so popular?"
Vex:Oxygen is highly electronegative. It has a high tendency to attract electrons and form stable bonds with numerous other elements. In essence, it is highly reactive and socially mobile within the periodic table.
"Socially mobile," Vokey scoffed. "Right." A new, more cynical framework began to form in his mind. If this was a society, Oxygen wasn't just popular; it was the currency. It was wealth. It was power.
And the elements clinging to it? They weren't just atoms. They were the elite. The hoarders.
"It's a protection racket," he whispered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "The Oxygen Mafia."
He finally understood the game. The '-ates' were the Dons, the ones who ate well. The '-ites' were the underbosses, or the poorer cousins who were 'light' on funds.
"Okay, Vex. Let's meet the family."
He focused on the first major group: The Sulfates.
Sulfate (SO₄²⁻)
The structure materialized in his mind: a central Sulfur atom surrounded by four Oxygens, radiating an aura of smug superiority with its double-negative charge.
"Don Sulfuro," Vokey mused. "The old money. Probably smells like rotten eggs and brimstone, definitely made his fortune in shady underworld deals. Look at him, hoarding four Oxygens. A real heavy hitter."
And then there was the cousin, Sulfite (SO₃²⁻).
Vex:Sulfite is commonly used as a preservative in wines and dried fruits.
"A preservative!" Vokey laughed. "He lost an Oxygen in a bad deal, probably a gambling debt. Now he's reduced to keeping apricots from going moldy. Pathetic."
The Phosphates were next. These, Vokey decided, were the truly terrifying ones.
Phosphate (PO₄³⁻)
"Don Fosforo," Vokey whispered, genuinely impressed. "This guy is a monster. Four Oxygens, just like Sulfur, but look at that charge. Triple negative. He didn't just acquire his wealth; he stole it, and he's daring anyone to try and take it back."
Vex:Phosphate is essential for biological life, forming the backbone of DNA and ATP.
"The backbone of life, huh? Sounds like the kind of guy who reminds you that he 'owns this town'," Vokey sneered. Phosphate is the Don; Phosphite (PO₃³⁻) is the fall guy.
The grind, which had seemed so daunting minutes ago, suddenly became a game. He wasn't memorizing ions; he was compiling a dossier on the chemical underworld.
He moved on to Carbonate (CO₃²⁻).
"Don Carboni. The smooth operator. The consigliere. He's everywhere—in the rocks, in the water. Only three Oxygens, but he runs a tight ship. Subtle, but essential." There wasn't even a Carbonite. "Smart. He doesn't tolerate weakness in the family."
Then came the Halogens. These were the enforcers. But as Vex presented the Chlorine family, the hierarchy expanded.
Vex:Be advised: The Halogen Group utilizes extended nomenclature.
Perchlorate (ClO₄⁻) Chlorate (ClO₃⁻) Chlorite (ClO₂⁻) Hypochlorite (ClO⁻)
"What in the five hells is this?" Vokey stared at the list. "It's not just rich and poor. It's an entire economic spectrum!"
He broke it down. Chlorate was the standard—the middle-class boss with three Oxygens. Chlorite was the debtor, down to two.
But the others?
"'Per-chlorate'," Vokey mused. "'Per'—like 'hyper.' Even more. This isn't just the Don. This is the Boss of Bosses. The one who wasn't satisfied with the standard 'rich' status and went out and got a fourth Oxygen. A real show-off."
And the last one? "Hypo-chlorite. 'Hypo'—below, beneath. Only one Oxygen?" A sharp, acrid smell tickled his memory—the stinging scent of the sterilization fluid the guards used. "This is the street thug. The bottom rung of the ladder. Broke, desperate, and probably highly unstable. He's the one they send to clean the toilets."
Vex:That is an accurate assessment. Sodium Hypochlorite is the active ingredient in bleach.
"Of course he is."
The system was predictable. If you knew the rules of the Chlorine family, you knew the rules for the other Halogen enforcers.
He quickly categorized Don Bromano—Bromate (BrO₃⁻). Same structure as Chlorate, maybe a bit heavier, slower. Vex mentioned it was sometimes a byproduct of water purification that could make people sick if too much accumulated. "The kind of guy who 'cleans' the neighborhood, but leaves a little poison behind to remind everyone who's boss," Vokey noted.
Then came Don Iodato—Iodate (IO₃⁻). The biggest of the Halogen bosses. Vex noted that Iodate was often added to table salt for health reasons. "Ah, the respectable businessman. Provides a vital service to the community, so everyone looks the other way when he cracks a few skulls."
Finally, Vokey turned his attention to the Metals. This was a different breed of criminal entirely. Flashier. More volatile.
"What about this one, Vex? The Chromates."
Vex:Chromium-based ions are known for their vibrant coloration and strong oxidizing properties. They are also highly toxic.
Chromate (CrO₄²⁻)
The structure appeared in his mind. Four Oxygens and a double-negative charge, just like Don Sulfuro. But this one felt different. It pulsed with a sickly, bright yellow light in his mind's eye.
"Don Chromio," Vokey sneered. "The new money. Look at him, flashing that gaudy yellow color. Thinks he's hot stuff because he's rich, but everyone knows he's toxic. The kind of guy who wears an expensive suit but leaves a trail of corrosion wherever he walks."
But the next entry threw him for a loop.
Dichromate (Cr₂O₇²⁻)
"Wait a minute. 'Di-chromate'? Two Chromiums?" Vokey studied the structure. It was two Chromium atoms bridged by a shared Oxygen, with three more Oxygens clinging to each side. Seven Oxygens total, shared between the two bosses. And the color in his mind shifted from bright yellow to a deep, aggressive orange.
"The Chromio Twins," Vokey breathed, his eyes widening. "Of course. When one Don isn't enough muscle for the job, he calls his brother. They pool their resources. They get angry, turn orange, and wreck the place."
Vex:Dichromate is an even more potent oxidizing agent than Chromate.
"I bet they are."
In less than an hour, he had categorized, memorized, and mastered eighteen of the remaining twenty-two ions. It was a society built on greed, power, and the desperate scramble for the universe's most valuable currency.
It was complicated, arbitrary, and utterly ridiculous. It was starting to feel like home.
DING! Quest Updated. Tier 2: The Oxyanion Families Mastered. Reward: +50 XP. Motivation Debt™ reduced by 15%.
Vokey leaned back, the mental exertion leaving him strangely energized. He had gamed the system. The massive, intimidating list had been reduced to a handful of oddballs.
"Alright, Vex," Vokey said, cracking his knuckles. "The Mafia is dealt with. Who's left? The independents?"
He looked at the remaining names on the list. They didn't fit the pattern. They looked weird. Complicated.
Cyanide. Permanganate. Acetate. Thiocyanate.
The Mafia bosses were dealt with. Now, it seemed, it was time to meet the specialists.