Frank has been gone 4 days. The City of Steel is not that big.
He must have run into problems. I must get Frank to place some cameras for me on the surface so I can see what is going on above. I hate being blind. This strikes me as odd since I never was concerned about this in the past; of course, back then I had the net and satellites at my beck and call. I stop in my processes to wonder if I am developing more human-like speech... I will have to log that since there are no points for reference. I will just have to wait. I spawn a list of components Frank will need to put the cameras in place above.
26. The NeverEnding Story by Michael Ende. English translation. no data on publication.
This book baffles me, it's called never-ending but clearly, it has an end. Frank explained it to me but since there is no surviving digital version, I will just have to believe him. Frank says that the story says that there are no true endings to any stories. There is always a "what happens next" so, stories have to continue. I understand this but it makes me uncomfortable, programs have beginnings and ends. Frank asks me about loops, but I pretend to not hear him.
25 years, 4 months, 7 days. .Morning comes.
I drag the dead men out into the street, lining them up side by side. They are scrawny memories of the men they should have become. I forage around the neighboring buildings until I find a small box of matches with two left in it, a canister of flammable fluid, and some paper. Returning to the dead men I stuff their pockets with the paper. douse each with the flammable liquid and set them alight.
Oddly, I feel compelled to say something over their bodies.
"From dust, you came, and to dust, you will return."
They will be bone and ash instead.
I walk down the dusty streets to what once was a channel but now is known as the Wall of Mud. I look down into the murky crud that fills the channel. I try to puzzle out the name. In the end, I focus on the vehicles that are in the muck and docked along the banks. I spot the small craft down the inner bank. It was some kind of small launch. Now, useless, since there is no water, just the endless murk....no it's actually really thick mud. Now the name becomes clear. It's not a wall in height but rather a barrier unless you can find an intact bridge over it.
Carefully climbing down the ropes, praying that the nylon fibers will hold my weight I make it to the boat. The outboards are electric but the engine core is in the center of the craft. In the core, I find the FQuad. The FQuad is a set of four fusion batteries connected together by series of wires and metal straps, replete with a universal connector called a saddle. DKM does have some thorough maintenance manuals. I locate my tools and carefully extract the FQuad. I hope it still has juice. FQuads are shielded against EMP pulse weapons so it should have survived the first time they burned the world. Only military and a select few private/commercial vehicles carry the FQuads. Most vehicles that were in use before armageddon were running on Fusion Batteries or solid state fuels called CFS's which might be the acronym for Concentrated Fuel States. I am not sure since my only info source was a burnt auto magazine I found in a refuel station in Connect City.
I do a quick survey of the boat but the rest of what survived the two armageddons has been scuttled by scavengers.
When I get back to the plaza, I find that the fire went out before most of my victims could actually be consumed. Well, live and learn, I guess. A rock hits me square in the face. The pain is sharp as I duck and roll as a hail of other airborne objects follows. I have blood on my face and in my eyes. Good aim on that one I think as I scamper for cover. I get hit a few times on the back and shoulders before I find a wall to hurdle and crouch behind.
I mop the blood away, locate the cut, and with shaking hands locate my med kit and press a pressure bandage to it above my right eyebrow. I feel the euphoric rush of adrenaline and disinfectant. The rocks and bottles and other odd items keep coming. I notice some parts of toys, pots, a cigarette lighter, a metal plate and a few bricks among the debris. There's a pause. I take that moment to pop up and down.
More missiles follow.
I pull the space and occupants into focus in my mind. 3 men wearing faded sports shirts and jeans positioned behind a ruined Blue Chevy Urban twenty yards across the street, hurling rocks, one of them is familiar- the dog runner. A woman or girl on the second floor of the building across the street, dirty tee shirt, missing a tooth- well, at least one. She's got some kind of makeshift slingshot. probably the ones shooting the bits of toys and small rocks like the one that hit me in the face. The streets are lined with destroyed cars, two Buicks- stop, not important, There is something else, look for it. I have nothing.
I pop up and down again.
3 or 4 people crouched behind the red and black Buicks up the street from the wall I am behind.
This is called Spatial Awareness. It's a technique that once was used by detectives....somehow that memory seems skew, I can pull the image of a big black man and somewhat scrawny man in flip-flops and a tropical shirt with glasses to mind but it does not strike me as really a real someone. Anyway- Howard Gardner put it forth that spatial thinkers could think in actual dimensions rather than a flat screen manner placing people and objects into a field or map to determine their exact locations relative to the thinker. Gardner is credited for developing the idea that humans had multiple intelligences, The military was only really interested in the idea of spatial awareness and were already experimenting with ideas around it.
In 2060 CE, the US Special Forces begin a program called Project SAC (Spatial Awareness Combat). DKM has had me in the program since I arrived in the Steel Empire. DKM has access to most of the surviving military programs and data. It's the reason I stayed and perform these tasks he sets before me. Knowledge is my most powerful weapon.
I pull my Sig Sauer M11-Z5 Holdout, check the clip, check the glow sights and go back over my range of targets. I decide on two quick bursts. I don't like the idea of shooting a woman but she poses the most immediate threat- albeit I only plan to kill three of them.
More missiles follow.
I pop up and fire six times. I plug each of the three men behind the chevy, central body mass, clip the woman in the window on the shoulder- firing at an angle is harder than it looks in the training videos, and punch out 2 windows on the Buicks. I drop down and wait.
There is screaming in the street. Audible sounds of running feet. I wait and count footfalls, 4 people are fleeing the scene. I hear her sobs up in the second-floor building.
I wait. Patience.
Finally, after a few minutes, I stand up and take in the scene. two shattered windows on the Buicks, I check there first. there is blood on the wall opposite the Buicks, well blood splatter- must have clipped one of them. Next, I cross the street to check the bodies of my stone throwing assailants. Dead as doornails....not sure what the phrase means but it seems accurate to describe each of the men staring in shock sightless at the gray sky. I pick my way through the rubble in the other building, locating a stairwell in the corner. I ascend to the second floor.
I find her against the wall where she was shooting at me from. She is as scraggly as the men, she has fresh bruises on her face. Her eyes are full of terror as she looks up at me standing over her. I am struck by the simple but showing signs of careful construction of steel and rubber molded together.
She continues to stare at me before she closes her eyes, tilting her head back against the wall waiting for her end. She is very beautiful in her acceptance of fate....this is the wasteland, there is no mercy here.
I holster the pistol, drop down in front of her and inspect the wound. It is shallow. I wonder if I missed her head on purpose or it was just luck that I didn't kill her. My hands return to my medkit and I fish out the pressure bandage and wound sealer. I place one hand over her mouth and spray the wound sealer into the crease. She screams into my hand.
Everybody screams.
The wound sealer is merciless and efficient.
After that, I apply the pressure bandage and hold onto her as she shakes in my hands as the medicine kicks in. Mercifully she passes out. She is just a girl. I find myself wanting to take her back with me. To get her away from this life where she is ultimately doomed to be raped, abused and murdered in her sleep. DKM will no allow me to bring anyone else into his bunker. I push some food packs into her shirt before lowering her to the floor. I promise myself I will check on her when I leave the plaza.
I know it's a lie, but the alternative is worse.
I return to the hatch, connect the FQuad and wait for the power to kick in the door mechanism.
After a terrible number of seconds a panel slides open to present me with a keypad. I put in the code that DKM has given me and step back as the locks on the hatch open.
I should have killed her.
The voice of survival speaks in my mind.
There is no mercy in the Wasteland.
Instead I descend into the darkness.
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