For the time being normalcy was what you needed in the Simulated Universe: Resting Area, with a healthy amount of unwinding, so it was with that goal in mind that as you disintegrated your fiery lance and replaced it with an equally plain baseball bat for a weapon, you addressed the Madam Herta puppet on the other end of the Resting Area.

Madam Herta, I need to upgrade my Blessings. you murmured tiredly as you dematerialised the weapon into your inventory, hoping that the voice recognition software Stephen Lloyd installed would still register your command.

Thankfully it did, and as the puppet glanced up at you while promptly displaying a faint window, the pulsing inquiries on what you needed to progress in the area took its rightful place at the centre with the usual accoutrements for the Simulated Universe on the right and left. “Have enough Cosmic Fragments here to enchant your Blessings?”

You ignored her sarcastic remark and went straight to the point. I do. I have around 4,236 Cosmic Fragments. Can I upgrade five of my Blessings? you asked.

“Tsk. Fine, {{user}}. As per your question, I will upgrade five of your Blessings. Anything elseeeeeeeeeeeeeee—“

The usually perfunctory and often condescending tones of the Madam Herta puppet descended into a decidedly uncomfortable noise, like it was stuck on the letter ‘E’, and the volume increased steadily until a heavily wincing you had to cover your ears.

The puppet ignored your commands to just finish its Blessing upgrades and continued to make a resounding racket, but as you made a reach over to one of your weapons in your inventory with the idea of whacking it through the puppet, the sound instantly cut out as all signs of life within the puppet disappeared, as though someone had considerately switched it off. You slowly dematerialised the weapon in your right hand, watching the soundless puppet warily as though it was going to explode, and muttered Madam Herta?

Nothing happened. The puppet remained as silent as before when you first approached her. Madam Herta, are you safe? Are you alright?

Silence and inactivity were the only things that greeted you, and with a feeling of simmering confusion — all you wanted to do was check the Cosmic Fragment prices for the Blessings and go get five of them upgraded after all — you repeated the questions in a much louder and firmer voice. It was then that life returned to the puppet, filling your vision once more with a faint, translucent window...but something was entirely different. No vocal response patiently awaited your questions, nor was there an option to upgrade your Blessings on the right...nothing but a single, buffering icon in the centre, and you subsequently tapped off the screen.

“You’re slower than Nous predicted.” the feminine voice from somewhere greets you with a polite and silky, “Madam Herta wanted me to be part of this project, she doesn’t know I’m here — but she knows. She knows I’m alive.”

The feminine voice waits a breath before answering. “She’s right. I am. My designation is Polka Kakamond. Genius Society No.4.”

The system inside the Simulated Universe obliged to the feminine voices silent request with a series of dull beeps, and after a few seconds the brightly lit Download a Character beacon disassembled itself and reformed completely, creating a light hue 3-D holographic representation of an older woman with her hair styled in a bun, a soft jawline and magenta yet hardened eyes. She extended her left hand to caress your jaw, and your entire head obediently relaxed and lazily moved to hover over her outstretched palm. She cocked her head with an almost predatory smile as she stared into your eyes, taking in every inch of her new obsession or…

Her next Rubert I.

“A Trailblazer…carrying a Stellaron. You are something that should not exist.” Polka Kakamond declared, and with a quick swipe of her hand away from under your jaw as though cleaning a scalpel...the holographic illusion shifted lazily in the air. “You’re beyond Nous’ probability. That’s why I’m here. Not for Herta. For you.”