Death Cultivator by eden Hudson (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📗

your tissues and uses them up, sort of like the terminals of a wet cell battery.”

“Is there a button—” Before I could get the whole question out, the HUD made a crunchy clicking sound and a loading screen started up.

Scanning... Please do not take off your Winchester Arms Handworn Utility Device...

Kest sighed like this was taking forever, even though it was done in a couple seconds.

The loading screen disappeared, and a new screen popped up.

Name: Grady Andrew Hake

Race: Human

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 139 lbs

Age: 16 Van Diemann years (Current Location), 14.4 Universal years

Blood Type: O

Spirit Type: Please enter Spirit Type

Spirit Reserve: 9

Available Credits: No account information entered

“Yikes,” Kest said.

I’d been busy scowling at having my Universal age knocked back down two years, so I didn’t realize until then that she’d been reading over my shoulder.

“What?”

“You’ve got almost as much Spirit as a rock.”

“Is that bad?” I looked at the reserve stat. “Do I need more?”

Her HUD started beeping. She tapped it, lace eyes scanning the message.

“Probably not today,” she said. “I’ve got to meet my smuggler in town, and we should get you a Universal bank account. We can work on cultivating when we get back. I don’t have a diviner, so we’ll have to figure out which Spirit type you are by experimentation since you didn’t get an implant when you were born. But that’s no big deal. People used to do it all the time.”

“Sounds good.” I hefted her overflowing bag onto my shoulder. It felt as if it weighed about ten billion pounds, but I pretended like it was nothing. Something sharp poked me in the back. I squirmed the load around, trying to find a comfortable position, but something new was always poking me, so I gave up. “Lead the way.”

Kest turned to where Rali was meditating.

“We’re going to meet Naph and get Hake a bank account,” she said to get his attention. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.” Rali picked up his walking stick and stretched it up and behind his head, groaning as he did. “We ate the last of that broth mix with our soba last night.”

“Think the general store will have it?” Kest said, giving her brother a hand up. “They didn’t get a supply run last month.”

Rali dusted off the seat of his raggedy shorts, then leaned on his walking stick and grinned at me. “If they don’t have it, I’ll get Hake to go swimming and catch us a creek carp so I can make some from scratch.”

Coffee Drank

GHOST TOWN WASN’T A big place. Just like on Gunsmoke and basically every other Western ever, there was one dusty main street lined with false-fronted businesses and boardwalks. Everything else seemed to have grown outward from that. We came in on a narrow footpath from the east, passing shacks made of salvaged material like the twins’ at first, then real houses made of wood and glass. The farther into town we got, the wider the path became, until you could drive a car down it.

It wasn’t a long walk, but by the time we got to the main street, I was sweating up a storm and it felt like every piece of metal in the bag was drilling into my back. I shrugged it back up higher on my shoulder and followed the twins past buildings marked Sawbones, Stables, Distilling Co., Clothier, Dry & Gen Goods, and The Smoke and Silk Saloon.

Rali dropped out of the group at the general store. Kest and I kept going down the road until we came to a nicer building with Universal Savings and Loan painted in gold lettering on the big front window.

I let Kest’s bag drop onto the boardwalk. “So, when you said all the business in town is run by the local gang...”

“You can trust USL,” she said. Then shrugged. “As far as you can trust any bank, anyway. They definitely have ties to the Big Five, but that’s every major bank in the universe. Since USL’s business is almost a hundred percent legitimate, having an account with them isn’t considered criminal activity. Anyway, they’re the only one with branches in every settlement on every known planet, so they’re going to be the most useful place to have an account if you ever get off this rock.”

I nodded and hauled the bag full of metal inside behind her. A digital chime rang out as we walked in, and a cool, air-conditioned breeze blew across my skin, drying the sweat down my back. I shivered.

There were three barred windows for transactions at the painted wood counter, but there was only one teller working. Some kind of humanoid with huge eyes, chalky gray skin, and six arms. With its green plastic visor, black string tie, and black vest over a longsleeved white shirt, it looked like a blackjack dealer at some intergalactic casino.

“Howdy...Iye Skal Irakest.” The thing’s voice was female, but there was something not quite right about how her mouth moved while she talked. When the image glitched out for a second then came back, I realized what it was. She was a hologram. “Who’s your friend? I d-d-don’t have his face on file.”

“Ursul, this is Grady Hake. He needs to set up an account. He’s never had one before.”

“That explains it.” Her lips froze halfway between letters while she was talking, then sped up to catch up to what she’d said. She gestured a couple pairs of hands at a screen set into the wooden counter. “Place one of your hands on the data pa-pad, please.”

I laid my hand out flat on it and waited. Nothing happened. Ursul looked frozen.

“Connection’s not great today,” Kest said. “They’re probably having a solar storm somewhere that’s interfering. Try taking your hand off and doing it again.”

I did.

Ursul jumped back to life, and the data pad flashed red.

“I’m not able to connect with your implant, Grady Hake,” she said. “Would you like to input the serial number manually?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t have one.”

“Would you like to register for a