Saints in a Chip

All four men sat at the table in silence. Jude glanced around, studying each of their faces, hoping one of them would break it and steer the conversation. But nothing happened until Delila finally joined them.

She entered with a calm demeanour, but her eyes betrayed her distress. “Guys, I think we really need to call Len.”

“What are you talking about?” Bart replied, annoyed since they had already agreed to exclude Len from their discussions.

“Lucy... she’s not okay,” Delila continued. “She’s thrown up a couple of times, and I could swear she has a fever.”

Jude could feel the concern radiating from Delila. He shifted in his seat.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “She is sick?”

“It looks like that,” Delila confirmed.

“Did you notice anything?” Tom turned to Jude, searching for answers.

“Nothing, really. She seemed pretty chipper and… well, healthy. The only thing was she drank a lot of water, but so did I, and I’m okay,” Jude clarified, trying to downplay the situation, though unease crept into his voice.

“If she’s sick, we really need to contact Len…” Bart mumbled, frustration leaking into his tone. “Ah, fuck this shit. I’ll call her. It is what it is.”

With that, Bart stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he made his way through the corridors.

Delila perched on the edge of the table, her fingers tracing the grain of the worn wood. “Why would they send a kid?”

Tom didn’t even look up, his hand waving dismissively as he muttered, “Later, Delila.”

Her gaze shifted toward Jude, lingering just a moment too long as if seeing him like a taboo. Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting away like he was something best left untaught.

Jude caught her glance, and finally, he rolled his eyes. “Fantastic. Can we just start the tutorial?”

Tom, already moving on, approached the whiteboard, his marker scratching against it in deliberate strokes. Lines began to take shape, and a map emerged—almost a mirror image of the one Jude had seen before, back when Agatha first introduced him to this simulation.

Tom tapped the crude map with the marker's tip, drawing attention to the grid of lines. "Each section is a cell," he said. You find the lock, you level up, and move on—simple.”

Jude frowned, leaning forward. “And how do you unlock it?”

Delila, sitting nearby, spoke up. “It’s a DNA scan. Small touchscreen, you place your hand on it, and... that’s it. You’re through.”

Jude rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, but how do I even find these things? What do they look like?”

Tom played with his moustache, thinking. “Ever seen those metro kiosks? Just sleek, minimal boxes. Eye-level. Won’t be hard to spot once you're looking."

“Right.” Jude glanced back at the map. “So, do we have their locations? Any coordinates?”

Tom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the catch,” he muttered, not meeting Jude’s gaze. “They move.”

Jude's brow furrowed. “They move?”

Tom hesitated, his gaze flickering. “Security system,” he muttered, words trailing off as if swallowing something unspoken.

Jude’s lips curled in a wry smile. “Why am I not surprised? This whole simulation feels... modded.”

Tom shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Once you find the first one, it’ll make sense... I hope.”

Before Jude could press further, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hall. Bart stormed in, his expression tight, tension rolling off him in waves.

“We’ve got a problem,” Bart announced.

Tom straightened, eyes narrowing. “Did you talk to Len?”

Bart grimaced. “Paris.”

Tom groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Shit... What did he say?”

“Len’s not coming. And if we bother her again, Paris says he’ll personally come for us... and eat us to the bone. One by one.”

Tom's brow furrowed. “Why can’t she come?”

Bart let out a short, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “She’s sleeping. You know how Paris is when she sleeps—hell could be burning down outside, and he still wouldn’t wake her.”

The corner of Delila's mouth twitched, but her eyes stayed serious. “Did you tell him Lucy’s sick?”

Bart's jaw clenched. “Yeah, I told him. He said they’re expecting her, and she’ll be fine. So... I’m guessing Len set everything up and forgot to clue us in before she knocked out.” His teeth worried at his bottom lip.

Lazaro spoke up, “She didn’t say anything because she fell asleep. And we all know how much she needs that sleep.”

Jude frowned, crossing his arms. “And why isn’t Paris coming, then? From what I can tell, he’s supposed to be second-in-command, right?”

Delila’s voice cut and replied, “Paris doesn’t drive. And there’s no way he’d leave Len alone while she’s... you know, out.”

Jude ran a hand over his stubbled chin, its scratch grounding him as he pieced things together. “So... Len’s knocked out, Paris won’t budge, and they’re still expecting Lucy to show up?”

Lazaro nodded, half-distracted as if still turning it over in his head. “And you need to talk to Len about your numbers...”

Jude let out a low, sarcastic chuckle. “While I’m running around, solving puzzles, hopping from cell to cell?”

Lazaro shrugged, lips curving in a reluctant smile. “Pretty much.”

“I only have seven days to complete my mission,” Jude informed.

There was this silence. It was an annoying silence, so heavy in meaning but with no words and no indication of what was brewing behind it; Jude hated it. But on the other hand, he could understand it. “So, Puzzle check, map check, what is this rules none sense?”

The room fell into an uncomfortable stillness. No one moved, no one spoke. Jude’s fingers twitched on his chin as his eyes flicked around the table, catching the brief glances and tight expressions. It grated on him, that silent, shared understanding by the four of them—one he wasn’t quite in on but could feel gnawing at the edges.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. “Puzzle, map... got it. Now, what’s the deal with these rules?” Jude repeated.

“They’re not nonsense,” Tom said, leaning forward, his voice firm. “Stick to the rules, and the map’s a breeze. The first one’s easy—lie only to save a life.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You guys lie all the time.”

Tom bristled, but it was Delila who cut in. “No, we don’t. An omission isn’t lying. We didn’t lie to you—we just didn’t tell you everything...yet. Big difference.”

Jude shrugged, and with a hint of sarcasm, he said, “Alright, no lying. I’ll keep my mouth shut. What’s next?”

Tom jabbed the tip of the marker at the second rule on the board. “Don’t eat, don’t steal.”

Jude smirked, tilting his head. “Let me guess, I can only steal food?”

Delila’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Or anything that keeps someone alive. If you’re stealing gas to keep a car running, that counts.” She gave a small, knowing nod as if the loopholes were obvious to everyone but him.

Jude slumped back in his chair, resting his head on his hand, eyes half-lidded with boredom. “This sounds like a load of rubbish. Next.”

Tom didn’t miss a beat. “Only kill food.”

Jude's smirk curled back to life. “Right, so if I kill someone, someone else has to eat them. That's why the other guy threatened to eat you all?”

Delila’s lips twitched into a thin smile. “Bingo.”

Tom shifted his stance, hand on his hip, trying to explain the next rule with a sigh. “Love as you love yourself. This one’s a bit more complicated. Basically, treat people how you’d want to be treated.”

“Simple,” Jude added, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Or, in other words, don’t be an ass.”

Tom chuckled softly, but his eyes stayed serious. “Yeah, well, for some, that’s a challenge.”

Jude leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And what's this one? ‘Your words shape your deeds’—sounds like someone with serious trust issues.”

Tom hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s... not exactly that. It’s more about...” He trailed off, searching for the right words, before glancing toward Lazaro. “You want to give this one a shot?”

Lazaro lifted his head as if already considering how to explain the deeper meaning.

Lazaro rubbed the back of his neck, eyes distant as he spoke. “Len was into this old writer, wrote a book called The Alchemist back in the late 1980s. There was this one line that stuck with her—something about how a man’s words can either be from God or the devil. Basically, the words you use can either save someone or ruin them. It all comes down to how you choose to speak.”

Jude shrugged, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “So, don’t be an ass, part two. Got it. What’s next?” He waved a hand, eager to move on.

Tom straightened, taking a breath as he read the next line aloud, “Honor the Earth that feeds you, the air you breathe, and the water you drink. It’s your children’s legacy.”

He paused, bracing for the inevitable comment from Jude.

Jude cocked an eyebrow, a smirk already forming. “Yeah, that one’s obvious. Sounds like something straight off an environmentalist poster. So, don’t litter, hug a tree, that kind of thing?”

Tom shrugged, visibly relieved. “Pretty much.”

Moving on, Tom pointed to the next rule, his tone more serious. “Forgive others that wrong you, that you may be forgiven when you wrong them.”

Jude leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping the room. “So, basically, a summary of the last few. Forgive that they almost killed a kid because one day, I might just feel like pointing a gun at a child and, what? We’ll all just be cool with it, right?”

The silence was uncomfortable as his words hung in the air, every pair of eyes on him. Delila sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I have a feeling he’s never letting that go.”

"Nope." Jude shot a glance at the whiteboard, a wry grin creeping across his face. “And since rule number one says no lying, I’m just being honest here—so yeah, you’re right.”

Lazaro chuckled, shaking his head. “At least he’s a quick learner.”

Tom opened his mouth to explain the next rule, pointing to it. “Learn to teach, and teach to—”

Jude cut him off, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. I just did that one.”

Tom rolled his eyes, his voice flat. “Next—don’t envy. Strive to grow with them.”

Jude shrugged, barely interested. “Yeah, yeah, ‘teach to learn,’ right? They’re all connected. Who came up with this stuff? Len?”

“Len and Paris,” Tom replied, a tired edge to his tone. “Took them ages to agree on everything.”

He pointed to the last rule, his hand pausing just for a second. “This one… I’m not even going to try explaining. None of us really get it. If you figure it out, let us know.”

Jude’s eyes scanned the final words on the board. “‘Weep not over spilt blood; cleanse the salty wound of the Earth with your tears instead.’” He looked back at the group, brow furrowed. “Is this about the war or something?”

Bart shook his head. “No clue. It’s weird. The first nine make sense with how we live, but this one? We don’t get it.”

Jude raised an eyebrow. “Did anyone ask Len?”

Bart gave a half-shrug, glancing at the others. “Len’s not exactly the type.”

Lazaro’s lips curved into a faint, almost melancholic smile. “Len’s not one to sit down and chat about life. She’s... always busy.” There was a quiet sadness in his words.

Jude noticed but didn’t press, and Lazaro continued, glancing at the others. “But that last rule? Everyone has their own theory. It’s one of those things—people you meet will all have different takes on it.”

Bart leaned back in his chair, shrugging. “Makes for a decent icebreaker, though.”

Jude, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. “Alright, next?”

Tom smirked and shook his head. “That’s all.”

Jude looked around, frustration creeping into his voice. "So, what kind of obstacles am I facing? Are there any Eidolons at all? Should I be armed? This can't be all there is—I'm still clueless!"

The room stayed quiet, the group exchanging uncertain glances. Finally, Lazaro broke the silence. "There’s not much else to tell. We’ll give you the landmark where Len is, and you’ll move cell by cell to reach it. You’ll take Lucy with you, and once you’re there, you can talk to Len about your mission."

Lazaro's words hung in the air, leaving Jude with more questions than answers.

“That sounds way too simple,” Jude said sarcastically.

Bart shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not everything’s a struggle. Sometimes, you just have to take things one step at a time—like putting on your pants.”

Jude snorted, shaking his head as he rose from the table. “I’ll check on Lucy, then head to Unit B.” He turned to leave, but Bart reached out, catching his arm.

“Wait,” Bart’s voice was softer now, more personal. “Thanks for earlier.”

Jude frowned, confused. “For what?”

Bart leaned in closer, his words barely above a whisper. “You didn’t just stop me... you also didn’t dig around in my head.”

Jude smirked, clapping Bart’s shoulder. “Wasn’t sure there’d be anything worth finding.”