Two months before his 18th birthday, Allan finally became an adult at last.

  He did not notice immediately, of course. People seldom did; no one checked their Status obsessively all the time. He was working on Mr. Moordegard’s orchards, pruning and checking the orange trees. This was unSkilled work, which is why youngsters like him were hired by the man.

  The Status had something new that hadn’t been there this morning. A Skill.

  Allan had his Status since he was a little one. The town’s school drilled reading into every kid, no matter how hard-headed they were, since you did not get a Status unless you could read it. And without a Status, illness, and wounds could reap you when any healer would have been able to cure and heal you.

  Getting your Status meant the beginning of your childhood, and your parents no longer worried whether or not you would die as a baby.

  Getting a Skill to show up on your Status meant the end of childhood. You could finally take your first steps in the adult world, start becoming potentially useful to the community of Morganton, and be a real person.

  “Skill!!! I have skill!!!” Allan shouted.

  The other children working on the orchard threw him dark looks. Most of them were younger than him, but nearly all of them could have gotten one as well. You could get a Skill showing up after puberty – usually something useless, but still a Skill.

  The commonly accepted wisdom was that the more Stats you had, the longer it took to get a Skill. But that wasn’t a guarantee of getting a good one. Marcus Ginsen had finally gotten a skill a day before his 21st birthday – the record in Morganton’s history – and it had been Dry Hair. Years of waiting for a Skill to show up, and he’d gotten something so underwhelming like that one. He’d sworn never ever to take it, despite it costing a single Agility point and being potentially a good experience source. And he’d kept his promise for more than seven years now.

  People might call him “Hair Child”, but never to his face.

  So, Allan was trying not to fidget as he checked for the Skill that had become available.

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  Allan blinked at the description.

  Getting a Focus skill was a foregone conclusion. People always got their first potential skill in their highest Stat. And in many circumstances, an uncommon Skill, with a potential for evolution and a moderately high cost – meaning very useful or powerful – was a reason to be happy. But a Skill that he could not even take because he lacked Focus? That was an insult thrown at him by the System.

  Still, it was a Skill. Now that the first one was showing up, it would be a matter of time until others started to show as well, and he’d get something useful. Some people might barely fill their Status with Skills, but Allan did not expect to be one of them.

  He stored his pruning tools in the bucket he was carrying and started running toward the orchard’s exit. He came out, then beelined for Mr. Moordegard’s house. The man, somehow notified of his arrival, came out as he screeched to a halt in front of the door.

  “What are you doing, Allan? The fuck I’m paying you for nothing.”

  “Got my first Skill, Mr. Moordegard! I have a Skill showing!” he answered.

  “And? You leave, I don’t pay you. There’s enough work to do without you slacking. Is that new Skill of yours so awesome that it is urgently needed?”

  “Well, no… but I need to check with the Registrar!” he replied breathlessly.

  “Your choice. You get out, you don’t get paid. And I expect you tomorrow, or you can say goodbye to the job. What do you expect me to do? Check the oranges myself?”

  Allan thought that Mr. Moordegard could save by working on his very own orchard, but he wisely avoided replying. He would probably be there tomorrow morning, seeing as he still needed the money, and the Skill that had just shown up was not something that would get him apprenticed somewhere yet.

  But it was still the first Skill available to him. He might even choose it someday.

  “I’ll be back, Mr Moordegard! I swear!”

  “Don’t bother showing up back after you run. Unless you want to work for free, because I swear, no pay today. I don’t have time for your stupid ass,” the orange grower replied, glowering at Allan.

  “Hello, Mrs. Minya!” Allan said happily.

  “Hey, kid. What brings you here? As you see, I’m busy preparing the anniversary of the Last Dead, so unless it’s important, get out!” replied the irascible woman who was simultaneously the town’s teacher, registrar, and mistress of ceremonies.

  “I know the 75th anniversary of Eileen Grimes’ death is coming, but I need to register. I’m an adult now.”

  “You are? Show me,” her curt reply was.

  He immediately brought up his Status, making it visible to all. The Registrar focused immediately on the bottom, taking note of the available mention.

  “Not taken it yet? How many times did I teach you kids not to take your first Skill immediately, and you’re one to take my advice? A Jacquard being reasonable? What is this world coming to,” she said, but the slight curve of the mouth belied her acerbic comment.

  Morganton and its surrounding hamlets might be a small community compared to some, but every new adult was a welcome sight.

  Allan simply brought up the Skill description, sliding it into view for her to read. She immediately frowned, spotting the problem.

  “One of those, eh,” she commiserated.

  She went to the bookshelf containing the Skill Registry, bringing out the L-Q volume to check for Peripheral Vision. She leafed the reference volume until she picked out the skill.

  “Well… that’s an interesting one. As you’d expect from requirements and cost. Can evolve to rare for one additional Focus, bringing full awareness, and even to legendary for yet another two. 360 Vision, it’s called in that form. But it’s supposed to be hard to raise to that point, which means few people evolve it.”

  “How is it ranked?”

  “B+ usefulness for adventurers, E- for anybody else,” she answered. “I’d say E+ for a guard or animal handler or something, but that’s still E-. Something worthless for that difficulty.”

  She slammed the codex closed and put it back on its shelf before taking out a quill for formal Registration.

  “So, even if you get to level 3 for two points with something else, I’d suggest not investing them in Focus to take it. There are enough useful Skills to unlock and take not to waste points in Focus.”

  “Unless I can become an Adventurer.”

  “Half of you kids want to be one. And then, you run back home at the first fight, and you’ve wasted half of your Stats into useless shit. Take my advice, Allan. Don’t bother. Now that your first Skill has shown up, more will follow, and then you’ll find what you’re good for.”

  She picked the town register, found a blank page, and asked for Allan to show up his Status again so she could record the official beginning of his adult existence.