Maxtor sipped a cold milkshake from a blue glass. He gazed up at the sky through a mesh shade as he lounged on the back of another quint, heading up the Farmington Heritage Trail. Marto was on a new unicycle, a gift from Nina « Gina « Tina « Jocelle, etc from The Middle. The power of it was greatly improved. It required only a minimal amount of peddling to get the drive to kick in. Like his old uni, it moved in the direction Marto leaned. Given that Maxtor had five riders and Marto was on a single wheel, he had to lean precariously to keep up, regardless of how much he pedaled and the five riders slowed for him. Maxtor's lounge chair was a webbed masterpiece of lightness and luxury. Marto thought they made a comical pairing.

All along their route, people lined up to see the famous innovator and his new friend. They were not there to see the unicycler on his book tour, and it was embarrassingly apparent. Most had offerings for their tawny-haired hero, and many of those offers were passed along to Marto, causing frequent stops, smiles, posing for friends, apologies, etc. Marto was amazed at the number of people who wanted to physically touch Maxtor. He leaned into it, acting like a big kitten for his fans, most of whom would never have had access to him. People were rushing from kilometers around to catch them on the road. It was like old footage from the Tour de France. There were runners, wavers, people in costume, and people who only looked like they were in costume. It was one long, roadside party.

If Maxtor felt he was of too high Merit to associate with these people, he didn't show it. He had a refinement and grace Marto found impressive. Most of the fans they met would have been prohibited from seeing him in person, much less messaging him directly. As far as Marto or anyone else could tell, he enjoyed the company of all of these lesser folks as much as he enjoyed his association with the great JaBing from Vancouver or any of his other equals.

They had overeaten and over hydrated the whole way so far. It made for slow going and was annoying. Marto missed the quiet solitude of his previous rides. He couldn't, however, let his displeasure show in his public persona. Maxtor was wildly popular, and he did his best to appear grateful to be along for the ride. Hopefully, no one could tell how much he wished he was touring solo.

The destination was Hartford and one of a series of tribes who inhabited the old city. Hartford had been greatly transformed of late, with large buildings rebuilt as vertical farms. Steel was a rare thing to work with post-Tide. Rust and decay took its toll over the years, but many structures which persisted away from the sea provided a framework for printed additions. This was fine with Marto. He had planned to head up through the old city then on to The Valley and north to Brattle. He had no thoughts of his destination past the Brattle Valley.

Maxtor, as he promised, had shown Marto around his exceptional tribe. The Middle was, as always, innovative and in a state of constant change and improvement. They had multiple vertical farms like the one in Reverside, and were exporting tons of foodstuffs to surrounding tribes. They had mastered the art of growing coffee, tea, various engineered spices which mimicked flavors lost during The Tide. The population of the Middle had expanded exponentially since Marto's last visit.

Marto met up with Lisha, the daughter of Bruce, the librarian at Yale Havens and expressed to her Bruce's sensitivities over the new name she had taken when she became implanted. They replayed the conversation.

Lisha became thoughtful. ["It's so funny to hear him express those thoughts. I never knew he cared about that stuff,"] she told him. They were both enjoying espresso outside the new library. ["I have to be in better touch with him. I'm so busy, I forget, and he's not easy to get a message to. I have to send them handwritten in a tainer heading south."]

["Well, you know, I think he is starting to understand. Who knows, maybe he will choose an upgrade when he finally comes here."]

["Oh, I'm not sure he will ever leave the library before it's all emptied out. He is devoted to that place."]

The new library was a marvel. It was simplicity itself above ground and complexity below. Books and manuscripts arrived on request at any number of reading stations from automated storage in custom printed containers. When a visitor was done reading a volume, it was returned to the underground storage via a series of mechanical arms and medium-sized bots. Constant activity went on below the surface, such as restoration, re-cataloging, and scanning. The public face of the library was a single open room, not unlike a large parlor. The model was being replicated in seven tribal communities worldwide.

["Hey Marto, change of plans. We are headed to a nice little place on a lake in a town called Bristol. I think you will like it."] Maxtor didn't ask him what he thought about this change, and Marto didn't question it. Like anyone in the presence of the super Merited, he just went along.

Maxtor didn't use the term "slumming," in describing this trip, but he didn't have to. His preferred method of transportation was by personal drone. To move from place to place on the back of a bike was highly uncharacteristic. Marto's followers were having a blast commenting on this. Followership had skyrocketed at the mention of his meeting with Maxtor, but most of the new traffic was all about the tawny-haired genius, and not about his book tour. He knew it would drop off precipitously after they parted ways. Nevertheless, it was a great opportunity to gain followers who might hang on.

Traditionally, the separation between games and societal systems was broader than it is today. The oldest known games involved dice, boards, and pegs. It was easy to become immersed in such a game, but that was largely due to the human power of imagination and concentration. Many early games mirrored societal systems such as chess, go or backgammon, and many blended with societal systems such as dominoes, dice and arena games when used for gambling, or when a player gained social status for beating all opponents.

With the advent of virtual immersive games and social networks, the boundaries between games and status in society blurred further. The idea that everything was a game began to take subtle hold in a way that no longer seemed ironic. This shift in mindset was the key to the downfall of the social status of wealth. What was once seen as a rock solid necessity for the civilized world gradually became regarded as just another game. Games fall in and out of fashion, and new games are created in their place. Our current game of status and Merit is one such alternative. No doubt, if we tired of this game, we would make up another to replace it.

Masters of the game of Merit, such as my current traveling companion are lauded for their high scores, but not in the way of traditional games. Merit, after all, isn't a game of domination, but of generosity and usefulness. The rules are written to encourage the greatest benefit for the most people which in turn, reward the creators of that benefit. Offers accepted by a high Merit player yields more Merit than offers accepted by a low Merit player. That way, the generation of benefit is encouraged and perpetuated. This was what currency was supposed to do but failed. When the game of wealth became stagnant, and people saw it as just another game, they tired of it and looked for a new game to play. Games need players after all, and a game relying on a global population of participants, cannot survive when it isn't much fun for the majority of the players anymore.

– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 6, lines 726 - 728

After a long slow ride, they arrived at a newly constructed inn on a lake named Compounce. There were dwellings nearby, but the house felt remarkably remote. They had an exclusive view of the lake, and the surroundings were quiet. Marto was struck by the spaciousness of it. This was the sort of place which would ordinarily lodge two dozen individuals, but it was cleared out for the arrival of Maxtor. Members of the local tribe appeared from nowhere to offer various foods and drinks, massages and assisted baths for both himself and the great innovator. Eventually, Maxtor sent the people away, and he and Marto were alone in the great room, with a pastoral view of the water.

["Water,"] Maxtor thexted in private. ["Feeders, evaporation. That's what keeps me awake at night."]

["The lake seems to be doing well,"] Marto responded politely. Maxtor stared at him hard.

["Not for lack of effort, believe me. You know that."] Maxtor seemed to shrink a bit, losing his mythical size. ["It's just us right now. Drop the hierarchy, my node. I have the feeling I can talk to you like a standard one to one, please don't prove me wrong."]

Marto felt honored, and then felt he should stop feeling honored. Maxtor was, ultimately just another interconnected member of a tribe. He found himself fidgeting.

["I hope you don't want another Pepsi because if I even hinted you did, people from klicks around would be killing themselves to bring us two."] Marto thought this might be a kind of joke, though a not funny one.

["So, I saw you go to Glenville. That was a bold move, my node. You are a deep thinker. It isn't a common thing these days. Maybe you are not aware of this. It's not."]

["I suppose I am a curious person,"] Marto responded.

["Node, you ride a unicycle all over goddess knows where to sit and talk to people. People like us..."] He ran his naked fingers through his mane, ["we don't tend to get out much to happy spots like this, let alone to those lesser places."]

["I am a student of history,"] Marto chimed in, trying to feel like he was back home thexting privately with one of his equals. ["I like to find out what has happened in the minds of others in the wake of recent big upheavals. It's so easy to take it all for granted, but really, I find it miraculous, and imperfect, and I look for ways it is changing because I think change is inevitable."]

The lion relaxed and smiled. This was going in the right direction, thought Marto. ["Yes, yes. We are the enlightened interconnected are we not? We think we have it all down."]

["Well, it's true. I mean, an animal can't speak, and so every reaction to discomfort is one of violence. We have evolved our modes of communication, and I think it means we have moved further away from our violent animal state."] Marto felt they were on the same train of thought here, and it was invigorating. ["But we tend to forget our history because we get so caught up in our Merit. So, my purpose, and I am so glad to be able to articulate it, is to put our changes in the context of what has come before. Otherwise, how can we know where we are going?"]

["Well argued. You know that's not my thing, but I parse you, my node. But your vector..."] Maxtor had that hard look in his eyes again. ["you're into the general history, but you are not entirely sure where you are going, are you my node? I can see that. You see it? Where is the wakeful wanderer wandering, and why?"]

["Well, I admit, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going. But I don't think too much about myself as an individual. I'm mostly curious about the collection of our greater tribes. I don't think people care to follow my own introspections."]

Maxtor regarded him quietly.

They had both dropped out of the public feed. At the edge of Marto's consciousness, he could feel the pressure building, the demand of his followers to be let in. He dared not to reconnect publicly until Maxtor gave the okay.

["So, what did you think was going to happen when you went to that little town of families?"] Maxtor sent. The word 'families' had an emphasis on it. It was a combination of disdain and wistfulness. ["Bit of a wake-up call that was. Our babysitters forgetting they lost the babies. Pretty ugly stuff there; illuminating."]

["I honestly didn't know. I didn't know I was going to go there until I left Sherwood that morning. I guess I had an intuition, that's all."]

Maxtor pointed at Marto's head. ["Something going on in there."] He waved his finger around in a slow small circle. ["Something either you hide really, really well, or is hidden from you, I think. It's good."] He leaned back. ["Makes you interesting."]

He stared at the water again. Marto thought he had never in his life felt the mixture of fear, excitement, and uncertainty he was currently feeling. He controlled himself, resisting the urge to stammer out something about how amazed he was to be found interesting by such an interesting person. Instead, he sat in silence and waited for the lion to continue.

["Here's a bit of current history for you. Over the past few decades, the algorithms which run our little game have now grown so complex, no single individual can fathom them."] By 'game,' Maxtor meant the rules of Merit. ["I can't understand them, you can't understand them. No one can. It's only been 40 or so years now, and you could spend your whole life analyzing them and never be able to catch up. They work because they seem to work, but no one knows how they work. You feel? The reason I am who I am, and those people in Glenville are who they are, is a mystery, a matter of faith."]

["But your contributions speak for themselves. They feed people and save lives! I don't think anyone doubts that."]

["Well, of course, they don't doubt it. I don't want them to doubt it. But the formula behind it is impossibly opaque. More precisely, it is inhumanly opaque. Parse this: imagine you have a one in a million idea. One in a million people might think of this idea in their lifetimes."]

["Okay,"]

["That means roughly four to five thousand other people will likely have the same idea, depending on actual current global population figures. Those are the odds. Even I don't think my ideas are one in a million. And where did those ideas come from? Purely from your own mind? You and I know, new ideas come from shared data, past conversations, something read, seen, scanned, or communicated in cooperation with others. So why is it my ideas are attributed only to me?"]

["I guess because you put them out there first, or took the initiative to make something of them. That's what matters. An idea without a plan is just thext."] Marto was trying to comfort the man in front of him, shocked such a person could doubt their own importance.

["Ah, but here's the thing. If Maxtor Uber-G puts forward a new idea, people are more likely to think it worthy, than someone in say, Glenville, right?"]

["Well, naturally, I mean, you have a record of success."]

["But there might be someone in Glenville with a better idea, and no one would think to do something with it because they are not in Flow."]

["I suppose that's possible, but is it likely?"]

["Well, take your new unicycle."]

["Yes. I love it by the way. Working great."]

["Pure. But look at the painting you carry with you on your back and compare the painting of that uni with the one you are now riding. You see it?"]

Marto didn't have to open the tube, he brought up an image of the painting in his visualizer next to an image of his new unicycle, now parked outside the house. They were the same color blue, and the structure was remarkably similar.

["So, tell me, is that new uni the idea of little Bruce Ng, or of my compadre Nina, who printed and assembled it for you? Who should get the Merit for that contraption you now ride?"]

["Well, okay, the basics of it seem to be based on the painting by Bruce, but the tech..."]

["The tech was all from other projects by other people, my node."] Maxtor stretched his arms wide. ["Not to say Nina isn't deserving of your gratitude. I'm just thinking... and don't you ever repeat or re-thext this. This is just between you and me right here and right now. What I'm thinking is that the foundation on which we have built this grand new 'economy,' if you can call it that, is as solid as the evaporation from the lake out there, maybe less. You glean?"]

["I think I glean,"] Marto was not convinced he did, ["but we give Merit based on what is offered, not based on what is proposed, or imagined."]

["Pure. But people get more Merit by offering it to me than to you."] Maxtor hunched over a bit. ["And I don't truly make things anymore. I just dream them up. All of this is just dreams. Just ideas. Most of the details are worked out by my compadres. My Merit stays high for a long while after something like the library gets built, and continues when it gets replicated, but it eventually fades."]

Marto wished he could go public with this conversation. This was the sort of inside view he had always hoped for from his travels, but he knew if he did, it would backfire on him in the worst way. Maxtor went on.

["For now, I get to live a life of wish fulfillment. I have to be careful not to want things which might cause other people to hurt themselves. Not all the ultra-Merited care about that. Why is this not part of the algorithm? Maybe it is or will be, we don't know. All I know is, if I don't come up with something new, I don't get to keep living this way. It doesn't matter how nice I am."]

["So, I don't mean to be rude, but it sounds like you are longing for the days of accumulation and hoarding. I mean, the temporariness of your situation is also part of what makes Merit work. You don't get to keep it, so you never get to stop contributing to the benefit of all of us. Is it really that awful?"]

["I know there is no going back."] Maxtor was uncharacteristically humble in his tone. ["By all accounts, our new game works better than the previous game. I will not argue the point."] He reached for a glass on a side table containing the cooling oolong tea. ["But what I wonder about is whether the situation of the people at the top of the ladder in our new game is different enough from the situation of the people at the top of the old one. You've spent a little time with me now, so maybe you can do some deep thinking on it, right?"] He sipped and looked at Marto sideways. ["There could be a clue in it for you, I think."]

Marto was ready to counter. ["There are a few obvious differences,"] he replied, ["No appreciable inheritance, no lazy billionaires. Merit does not pool and stagnate like money did. That's an improvement. There is greater fluidity of reward. That's also good."]

["You think that,"] Maxor countered, ["but I can tell you there are good people of Supreme Merit and in spite of everything, there are some bad people. I'm not going to list any foremothers, but believe me, there are. Those people do all sorts of clever damage without a mob of Avengers coming for them. You glean?"]

["Okay, it's not perfect but it is always evolving."]

["What worries me,"] the lion continued, ["is we can't see into the mechanism driving it anymore. The game works, not because living at this wish fulfillment level of Merit is so wonderful. It works because it looks wonderful. From where I am, I can tell you, there are serious downsides. It can be draining. There is no break. Things can change fast. Glean? It is also pure addiction, so once you have it, you never want to lose it."]

["Well, I can't see your Merit dropping anytime soon Maxtor. I mean, I saw all those people on the road today. Are you telling me you are worried?"]

["The thing is, my node,"] "even I..." his spoken voice was pitched higher than expected. It sounded small. "... run out of ideas sometimes."

The silence in the house seemed to boom and quake.