Gus first tried wrapping the end of the knife with blades from the palm frond, but the sharp points readily punctured through when gripped. Pulling his hand away, Gus saw a small red ‘-2 HP’ prompt stream up the right side of his visual display. The cut stitched together before his eyes. Amazing.
Tearing a section of the foam putty from the space suit, he wrapped this around and gave it a try. The putty had enough body to prevent hitting the knife’s core when clenched tightly.
It appeared to be about an hour before sunset, so Gus decided to finish for the day. He moved to the edge of the ridgeline, dragging a small section of the foam putty he had fashioned into a kneeling pad so he could sit in comfort and looked outward toward the sea.
A light warm breeze blew over him as he reflected over the hectic events of the last twenty-four hours. He had times throughout the day where he could feel hints of the physical changes the nanobots were providing, but more than that, he had a sense of accomplishment he could not recall ever feeling.
His father often berated him, and tried all manner of ways to goad him into doing various drills and activities that would supposedly help him. It felt good to feel like he was living life, even in these circumstances, rather than having it dictated to him.
He really had been running on auto-pilot for too long, just trying to stay under the radar and avoid being hassled or asked to do one more thing he couldn’t care less about. An excitement welled up inside with the new possibilities ahead. So much in his life seemed to scream failure. It was amazing now to accomplish so much, without anyone to ‘manage’ him.
A smile crept onto his face as he hugged his knees to his chest and watched the beauty of the sunset, not knowing the last time he had actually sat and watched one. He stayed there in stillness as it first kissed the horizon then slowly sunk smoothly below.
When he started to feel the chill of night, he picked up the foam pad and walked back to the shelter.
Chapter Seven
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
Day 1 9:37 PM
13:15:59 remaining
Gus dreamed of his life as a henchman. The crowded barracks. Long hours. Life as a second-string human. Gus felt a pang of homesickness for his friends, and though he was an introvert, he felt lucky to have found a group of close friends that didn’t drain his batteries too much. It was nice to have a couple guys with the same interests, and to fit in somewhere. A no-judgment zone where he could joke and people actually understood the obscure references he threw out. They had all met in their first job, back in their teens. There were four of them in all, including Gus; Jim, Chuck, and Dave were the others.
Jim was the instigator of a lot of their crazy schemes. Gus’ dream began with the time they had worked late on the Fourth of July at Old Man Kector’s, and missed the fireworks. Jim’s father travelled a lot with his job and had brought a nice selection of illegal fireworks from Mexico. They decided to go and light some off in the neighborhood. Because of a city ordinance, it was illegal to light most fireworks within city limits. The gang didn’t let that stop them, throwing two boxes in the old Buick that Jim had inherited from his aunt.
They found an intersection and started lighting off fountain cones. Maybe it was the age, the humidity or just being low quality, but a lot of the fireworks were duds. An old lady who lived at one of the houses by the intersection threatened to call the enforcers multiple times, which had little to no effect on the festivities. They all knew the chance of them coming was slim to none.
Gus had some bottle rockets he wanted to fire off. He walked to one of the cones that was sparkling in small puffs. Since it was a large cone, this one was most likely a dud that would die early. Gus leaned to grab a cone nearby to serve as a base for his bottle rockets when the sputtering cone exploded! Gus saw a huge flash, then everything went dark. Gus heard the old lady scream that the enforcers were on their way and she hoped that we all got in trouble. The other guys decided this was a good time to wrap things up and ran back to the car. Gus, still blinded, followed the noise and patted the car when he found it, feeling his way to the door and scrambling inside.
Gus panicked at the thought that the proximity to the firework exploding had done some permanent damage to his eyes. He still could not see anything. He did hear that Dave hadn’t made it in the car and was screaming for Jim to wait. Jim tore off, and Dave’s voice trailed off in the distance.
“That was cold, dude!” Chuck said.
“We’ll circle around, give me a minute!” Jim retorted.
They drove around for a while and soon came back to the scene of the crime when no police came. They found that Dave had hidden in a ditch, lying flat in the tall weeds.
No cops ever showed up, or the guys were gone by the time they did. Bit by bit, Gus began to get his vision back around the sides and it slowly returned to his whole field of vision. The force of the explosion had turned off the street lights and had reinforced the impression that Gus had lost his sight. It was getting late and the gang had had enough excitement for the night. They all had work tomorrow—morning shift too—they headed home.
###!###
A loud shriek awoke Gus. It was pitch black now that the fire had burned down, and despite the happy dream, he felt a cold chill. In the distance he could hear something struggling and wailing in pain. The shrill noise cut off suddenly and Gus suddenly felt a chill that had nothing to do with the slight breeze.
He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears in the eerie quiet as he stared out into the darkness. His little alcove kept the nearby jungle out of sight, but there must be some predators out there. His brain went into overdrive trying to think of things to do to protect himself, but he could do little in the dark. He crawled out of his palm frond lean-to and grabbed the serrated knife he had made and crawled back into his flimsy shelter. It took him a while to calm down and fall into a fitful sleep.
###!###
Gus then dreamed of one of the gang’s first jobs. The super whom they all worked for was a crazy old guy everyone called Kector, because he spoke with a thick, indistinct accent and he liked to hoard things. Originally his nickname was the Collector but it became Kector after the gang took to saying his name with the accent. He was actually named after a crazy marsupial or something, but none of the henchmen ever called him by that name. He should have retired years ago, but was afraid that some other upstart super would steal his ‘collections.’
The collections in question were the random assortment of things that the super had hoarded over about forty years. Gus and the guys’ job was to patrol the stacks and report anything suspicious. It was the easiest of jobs. If Kector only knew that more damage was done to all his hoarded garbage by henchmen goofing around than by any invader, he would’ve been shocked.
Kector’s power was some kind of hypnotism, and he used it to influence others. He actually had collected some items of real value, but those stayed in the residential area of the lair.
The immediate supervisor for the henchmen was named Buchanan. He was one of those guys who wasn’t very short, but had a bad case of Napoleon complex. His position giving him the ability to boss someone else around was something that he had lacked his whole life and he took full advantage. He only was around once or twice a week, so most of the time it was alright.
One day when the gang was playing baseball with some crates of snowglobes and a giant wiffle bat, they almost got caught by the uptight toady. Buchanan luckily assumed that one of the boxes had fallen from the lopsided stacks and ordered everyone to clean up the mess.
Despite his best efforts, the guys had a good time regardless, and they could tell it secretly pissed Buchanan off, which made it all the funnier. They would act all serious and professional when he would come around, but it was crazy how something becomes exponentially more hilarious when you’re not allowed to laugh. Sometimes it was all they could do to hold in the laughter until he left the floor.
###!###
Gus awoke to a blue haze, a smile on his face. He blinked a couple times until he realized that it was a status window dominating his entire field of view. A countdown timer relentlessly announced:
13 days 8 hours 22 minutes until nanobot shutdown/death
That’s a bit of a buzzkill, he thought, frowning. Stretching his neck side to side, Gus sat up and coughed a bit. “Nick, are our conversations out loud or only in my head? My throat feels hoarse like I haven’t spoken in a while.” Gus said in a croaky voice.
“Actually, the majority are mental, but it is possible to communicate either way. Only certain things may need to be said aloud to activate the skill, mainly to avoid accidental activation and use when planning or recalling past events. It is usually more helpful not to telegraph one’s intentions or make noise to maintain stealth in battle conditions.”
“Good to know. One more question. Are you able to play back music, seeing as you have access to the quantum computer or whatever?” Gus asked hopefully.
“Yes, what music would you like?” Nick offered. A familiar chime sounded.
You have just unlocked the skill: Wreck-ord, Soundtrack of your Life (Level 1)
Everyone marches to the beat of their own drum, but you use this to your advantage! When you songify your life in apropos ways, you will get a bonus to stats. Bonus depends on the aptness of your choice and stats relevant to the situation. Rock on!
Note: Each song can only be used once for effect. Unlike most abilities, as you increase in your personal level, this ability loses its potency. Use this ability wisely.
For levels 1-10:
Multiplier Progression: Factorial
Cooldown: 6 hours
100 XP awarded
690 XP to level 3
“I knew this was going to be a great day!” Gus cheered, again noticing his parched throat. “Dang, I need to deal with the water situation, I only have a couple coconuts left and they don’t have that much coconut water inside of them.”
Gus grabbed a coconut and his foam pad, and went to his ‘thinking spot’ where he had watched the sunset. He hit the coconut with the flat end of the blade on the side opposite the two ‘eyes’ and it cracked open. Drinking the water inside and then using the knife he pried chunks of the meat away from the shell as he thought about his next tasks. He noticed that he was able to chew normally again.
“Top of the list is getting some clothes—”
A chime interrupted him.
Quest Granted: Better Cover Up
For all our sakes, put some clothes on, man!
Quest Conditions:
1) Find durable and comfortable footwear
2) Find suitable clothing/undergarments
3) Find a storage device of some sort
Quest Rewards: 750 XP
Do you want to accept this quest? (Y/N)
“To do that, I’ll probably need to sharpen my knife, and find a—”
Another chime sounded, with its accompanying message:
Quest Granted: ‘Dems sharp!
1) Find a way to sharpen your knife to a functional edge
Quest Rewards: 250 XP
Do you want to accept this quest? (Y/N)
“That’s not annoying at all…” Gus grumbled as he accepted both tasks.
Gus stood up and grabbed his knife. “Let’s find something to wear, and something to drink if possible. Nick, queue ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ by ZZ Top.”
A notice popped up under his display:
I see what you did there…
+3 perception while searching for a way to sharpen your blade and get dressed.
Gus grinned and gave himself a mental pat on the back. Well played. Venturing farther inland was easy at first but became much more of a challenge once the vegetation became thicker. Gus cycled through a few other classic rock songs but no other bonuses triggered. He decided to stop playing songs so he wouldn’t ‘waste’ any that he could use for a bonus later.
Having geocached in his ‘life before,’ he knew well that a mere two-hundred feet could be extremely difficult to traverse, especially when blackberry bushes or some other obnoxious, thorny plants impeded progress. He definitely did not want to encounter anything with stickers or thorns while naked. Gus hoped to find a clean water source, so he scanned the area to see if he could detect some kind of river. He remembered seeing a couple areas where water was trickling down the beach from inland while he was gathering food the day before.
Gus took his makeshift knife and walked inland. Fortunately, there was a path that was mostly sandy. Occasional messages of slight HP losses popped up as he tried to move inland and hit a sharp rock or hidden thorn. The offenders were quickly dealt with, but it made for slow progress.
There was a rustling in the treetops nearby as something unseen moved. Remembering the screech in the night, he felt a slight dread at wandering toward the jungle and clutched his crude saw a bit tighter. Hopefully whatever that was is nocturnal. When nothing attacked, he continued moving inland after he was sure the coast was clear.
After half a mile, the trail disappeared. He stopped and surveyed the area. The dunes gave way to small bushes and grasses, with the trees growing dense and tight in the distance.
His attention was drawn to a small part in the tree line. He squinted to see what was in that area, and his visual display zoomed in, hyperspace-style, until he spotted a small stream. The stream had a slight yellow glow outlining it in his zoomed view.
“Whoa, what was that?”
“Your perception will allow you to notice multiple things in your environment, and certain filters will allow you to sort visual information with increased levels in your perception skill.” Nick explained.
“What about the yellow highlights? That wasn’t you showing me where to go, or what would be most efficient to finishing the quest? I don’t want any more penalties to my XP if I can help it. What gets highlighted?”
“Do you recall that you received a perception bonus before you set out? Perception functions that way, and it heightens your ability to notice and understand the world around you. I was not showing you what to do or even where to look. Your own intention to finish the quest activated your brain’s reticular activating system, or RAS, and made those items more noticeable in your environment. The interface is simply highlighting what your subconscious deems appropriate. Humans vastly underestimate their own subconscious and the power it has to take in information and process it in ways that the conscious mind is unaware exist. It would be impossible to concentrate with the data that is processed constantly.”
Gus played around with zooming in and out, but had to stop when the shift in perspectives started making him feel nauseated. Taking a minute for his head to clear, he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes until the feeling passed. He once again looked at the stream in the distance with a focused zoom. He also noticed stalks of bamboo growing around it, and other assorted trees which were also highlighted in a pale yellow color.
“Gotta love those nanobots!” Gus said. Taking a minute to figure out how to slowly revert his sight to normal with control, he shifted his direction, moving toward the stream.
After a half-hour of maneuvering and backtracking, he was able to make it to the bank of the stream. Occasionally he would run into a barrier of bushes and he noticed some were so miserable with thorns that he had to retreat to avoid them. Another area was crawling with small spiders, so he altered his approach again. He often had to stop to pull a thorn from his foot or take a break as his feet couldn’t withstand the hot sand. Continual messages of ‘-1HP’ or ‘-2HP’ peppered the right side of his display as the minor injuries occurred, healing almost as quickly as they appeared, as long as Gus kept the thorns out.
The trek also was sapping his stamina, which increased his need to stop as he jumped and ran across stretches of sand, much like playing the ‘hot lava’ game but not as fun. The sun was burning his unprotected shoulders and back, and Gus’ lips were chapped and dry. At last he rea
ched the stream, and the nearby trees offered some welcome shade. Gus stared at the tempting water, leery of drinking the stream water due to possible parasites.
“In response to your unasked question, you can drink the water. One of the systems the nanobots have integrated with is the digestive tract. Bacterial, viral, protozoan, fungal, and other parasite contaminants will be virtually unable to affect you, as the nanobots there are able to quickly eradicate any signs of infection, resist their implantation, and neutralize the toxins these organisms might release. In fact, you benefited from this unknowingly when you ate your undercooked eggs and that clam,” Nick informed Gus.
He wasn’t totally comfortable with Nick reading his thoughts, but his thirst overcame his feelings about the violation of privacy. Gus dropped to his knees and greedily drank from the stream. The water was cool, but not glacial—which was nice. He decided to take a quick ‘splash bath,’ as the stream wasn’t large enough to fully immerse himself. He splashed cool water over his back, enjoying the rejuvenating feeling. Slicking his hair back over his head and panting, he noted a characteristic yellow glow shimmering under the water.
Reaching in, he pulled out a rounded stone with a flat edge. The yellow glow winked away as he touched the rock. The grain was tight and the surface smooth. He took his knife and the stone and moved to a place partly in the shade, where he plopped down on his foam seat pad and began to sharpen the blade.
When he was a kid, Gus had made popsicle-stick shivs with his friends by scraping the sticks back and forth on the concrete. He used the same tactic and tried to contour the serrated but blunt edge to a finer blade.
Lair Page 6