Post by Lone Dancer on Jul 3, 2023 22:21:17 GMT
The air smelled like cinnamon. Dust tried choking his lungs. The sky above glimmered and sparkled, everything below tattered and broken. He pulled his coat tighter, staying under the shadow of the ruins.
There was gentle ringing and the howl of wind. He didn’t have much time. His eyes darted around, finally locating the source of the sound. A crystal suspended in the air, a light within pulsing like a heartbeat.
The spice of cinnamon got stronger as he walked closer, small rubble scattering underfoot with every step. He reached a hand out, and he felt blood rush to his fingertips. He pulled back, his arm now tingly. He reached out again.
He grabbed the floating crystal. There was some resistance, but it came loose. The original clear color changed to a dark grey as the light dimmed. It clinked slightly against a piece of metal embedded in his palm, and he winced at the sudden uncomfortable sensation.
Sucking in a breath between clenched teeth, his eyes widened as he saw a shimmering tear in the air where the crystal once was. Putting the crystal down, he reached behind his back, his hands feeling around until they found a briefcase.
Pulling it out from its sling, he placed it down, blowing off some dust. He opened it to reveal a computer monitor and keyboard, supplemented by various dials, buttons, and smaller screens with fancy wavelengths. He didn’t dare touch any of that.
The keyboard whizzed as it raised and angled itself slightly, the primary screen powering on. His eyes glanced up; the tear was getting larger, and the imprint of a disjointed hand began to press against the cloudy veil.
He rapped the side of the computer, urging it to go faster as it booted up. An antenna extended from the top, clicking into place. A prompt appeared on the screen in blue pixelated letters. The oscillators went into overdrive.
His finger jabbed at the Y key so fast it hurt. The machine responded quickly to the input; something inside began to buzz loudly. Lines of text he couldn’t make out scrolled through rapidly. Whatever was happening, it was causing the thing behind the veil to become more frantic.
His eyes landed on a sufficiently sized rock that he picked up, ready to use as meager self-defense. He glanced back down, away from the hand. The crystal was floating again, next to the machine. From the lowest point, it was seemingly unspooling, feeding into the computer. It shrunk as it spun around, getting faster and faster until it was half the size it once was.
Something about it hurt to look at, like staring at a bright light. There was stabbing pain, and his vision became blurry in a spectrum of colors. He rubbed his eyes and reopened them. It was hard, but he could see four letters type themselves onto the now blank screen.
Done.
He glanced back at the tear, and the hand trying to come through, but it was gone. No sound, no fanfare. Erased, like it never happened. Spooky. The crystal was now back on the ground, a small version of its original size. There was only a faint trace of cinnamon now.
A new prompt wrote itself onto the screen.
This time, his motion was hesitant. Tentatively, he pressed Y again. A metal cable slunk out from a hidden hatch on the lower half of the computer. He had an uncomfortable thought as he realized it was just the right size to fit inside the slot in his palm.
No, no, no. Awful. Horrible. He shook his arm, gritting his teeth as he prepared himself. He slowly edged his right hand close to the cable as it seemed to search for something. His guess was correct as the second his palm was close enough; it shot into it with a jolt. He wanted to reel back, but his entire right arm was paralyzed.
But he could feel something snake through it, reaching his shoulder. It was simultaneously cold and hot: a terribly uncomfortable contrast. On the monitor, options have etched themselves, ready to be picked.
Note, Thread levels are sufficient for (1) augment.
Body Foundation:
Restructure muscle fiber to a prime state for further augmentation. Input 1 to select.
Mind Foundation:
Prepare new neural pathways to facilitate further augmentation. Input 2 to select.
Weave Foundation:
Implant new organs to allow for Weave abilities. Input 3 to select.
Wow. All three sounded awful in their own way to go through. His left hand hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to press. He was becoming increasingly aware of the cable in his right arm. All three sounded enticing and not. They were also vague. And all implied having to do this again.
Eventually, he made his choice. Finger pressing down, he heard a confirming chime. For a moment he felt nothing. He gritted his teeth.
It wasn’t enough.
Standing up, he felt at the base of his skull. Underneath the skin, he could feel two little squishy balls. They were sore to the touch, causing him to withdraw his hand. Those weren’t there before. A memory struck again.
Ah, right.
It was at that moment every part of his body kicked in to complain about something. Primarily that he was parched. Fumbling his hands around, he tried to feel where he had placed his bag.
Thankfully, it was still on his body, just having shifted behind him. From within, he pulled out one of those small plastic water bottles. Removing the cap, he downed the thing in a single swig. It tasted awful and barely did anything against his thirst. But it was just enough to let him focus on other things.
Looking around, it was still light out. The fact half the ceiling was missing made it apparent. Bits of greenery were about, freely drinking from the sun. He reached down to pick up the briefcase, checking over it.
Nothing made itself apparent to him, and he hooked it on the harness he wore on his back. After adjusting some straps and finagling with his coat, he felt around his bag for another water bottle. This time he was able to grab a full-sized one.
Downing it, he crumbled the plastic and tossed it against a wall. It bounced off, landing with a faint thud. Some part of him felt guilty, he found himself picking up both empty bottles and searching for any trash receptacle. This was stupid; who would care about him littering? He hadn’t seen a single other alive person since he woke up. Or dead one for that matter.
That thought made him pause, before he continued looking around for any bin in the ruins and debris. He didn’t know much, didn’t get a chance to. But he did know that the lack of cinnamon in the air told him he was safe enough to wander.
The buildings were odd. The best way to put it was they weren’t coherent. The architecture, or what remained of it, varied wildly. Sometimes, the ruins just had entire halves missing. No rubble or anything to signify where the other half went.
Some signs remained. Most damaged, with fading letters. He didn’t always recognize the languages on them. But the oddest of it all was that these buildings weren’t here before.
He remembered what it was like before. Before he was in Stasis. Outside the research facility, where he was an intern under his father, there was just a parking lot and some small residencies. It was meant to be a minor outpost, away from prying eyes.
But he was getting ahead of himself. By now, he managed to find a dumpster. Tossing the empty plastic in, he got his bearings. There were, of course, the various buildings. What looked like a supermall, or a chunk of one to his left. Some young trees poked through here and there. And far ahead of him was the research facility. That’s where he wanted to head back.
He wasn’t able to find many answers during his first search through, but maybe now he could shed some light. Navigating through the rubble, he was careful to watch his step. He didn’t want to slip onto the broken concrete.
Outside of the ruins, the air here was fresh, albeit chilly. He could now breathe deeply without inhaling copious amounts of dust. His thoughts trailed as he felt the base of his skull again.
Were these it? Had to be, no other explanation. Now he just had to figure out what Weave was. Did it have something to do with the crystal? Likely. He clearly remembered how it unspooled into that thread. Its iridescent appearance.
There had to be a connection. But he was cognizant of a sense of dormancy. Like whatever those organs were, they were asleep. It was strange, that feeling. However, he couldn’t pay much attention to it now. He had a new issue.
He was climbing up this particularly high pile of debris, and it was shifting underfoot. Slowing down his pace, he searched for steady footholds. Getting to the top wasn’t that hard, but it presented a new problem. Getting down.
On his way down, there was one moment when everything underfoot scattered. He was left hanging by his arms, legs flailing until they found purchase again. Slowly, he resumed crawling down. His breath was shaky until both feet were on solid ground once more.
He was getting closer to the facility. It wasn’t too large, composed of three segments. One for housing, one for research, and the smallest segment was for storage. His dad worked there, and Zed was an intern. However, he was kept in the dark about a lot of stuff.
As he walked, he kept remembering. He couldn’t help himself. But it did make the walk feel shorter.
His job was to gofer things around and fetch anything the actual scientists might need. He was told to keep questions to a minimum. Most were nice to him. A few were standoff-ish. One, in particular, was hostile to him, but his dad told them off.
A cloud passed overhead, the first one he had seen in a while. It was dark. The kind of dark that foretold rain. He had to move faster. His walking pace turned into a jog, and he returned to his head.
His Dad, well, he was always in work mode. Didn’t have much time for Zed. He was 18 and expected to do things on his own. While Zed worked, he was able to garner goodwill slowly. It culminated in him being allowed to use one of the facilities for a personal procedure.
He put himself willingly in Stasis. It was meant to last a few days at most. To help with recovery. He organized his off time to account for it. Then when he woke up, everyone was gone, and it had been clearly more than a few days.
He was walking up the pathway to the facility’s main entrance. Surprisingly intact concrete with flaking white paint and broken glass met him. He stopped, staring at the shards. They were like that when he woke up. He couldn’t help but wonder what broke them.
Shaking his head, he oriented himself. He could think more about stuff when he was back inside his room. He was just thankful for the temporary distraction his thoughts provided him. Stepping through the glass, he entered the facility.
Unlike the various ruins, the lights here still worked, albeit at only a dim glow. He was in the lobby area, where the receptionist would check him in. Anita. She always had a warm smile. If he closed his eyes, he could still see it.
The lobby was small, and it was a short walk to the desk. On top was a monitor, and a frayed mousepad with no mouse. Beside it sat a withered plant, dead. So was the computer. He checked.
Looking back, his earlier hunch was correct. He could start to hear the rain trickle down, slowly at first before changing to a furious downpour. He watched as it splashed slightly into the lobby.
Part of him wished he kept the empty bottles now so that he could refill them here. But who knew what was in that rainwater? Wasn’t worth the risk. Turning around, he would go deeper into the facility and the sound of rain would quiet. He was also aware of just how alone he was here. Halls once populated, now empty.
Besides him.
It was something he kept pushing off. But such attempts only lasted so long. His chest was tight. God, he was alone. All alone, and yet not. The hand behind the tear was something he wouldn’t forget. He tried to regardless.
He was an adult now, damn it. Yet he felt brought back to his youngest years, afraid of what might lurk underneath the bed. The lights were dim, but they were enough to reveal the way and for his imagination to run wild. He blinked away anything the mind conjured.
By memory, he navigated this place, these halls, and rooms. But there was something different. Time has gotten a hold of this place. But it hasn’t touched him.
Before he knew it, he was in front of his room. The benefits of a small facility. The door was ajar, and the room was barely lit by a window. His eyes had since adjusted, however. He entered, and closed the door behind him. Standing inside his room made him realize how tired he was.
By some boon, his mattress was intact, though the blankets had since faded in color. It was a blur to him how quickly he took off the coat and harness—placing his few belongings on the table near the back wall. He didn’t feel like undressing further before collapsing onto the bed.
Before he could count to 3, he crashed.
There was gentle ringing and the howl of wind. He didn’t have much time. His eyes darted around, finally locating the source of the sound. A crystal suspended in the air, a light within pulsing like a heartbeat.
The spice of cinnamon got stronger as he walked closer, small rubble scattering underfoot with every step. He reached a hand out, and he felt blood rush to his fingertips. He pulled back, his arm now tingly. He reached out again.
He grabbed the floating crystal. There was some resistance, but it came loose. The original clear color changed to a dark grey as the light dimmed. It clinked slightly against a piece of metal embedded in his palm, and he winced at the sudden uncomfortable sensation.
Sucking in a breath between clenched teeth, his eyes widened as he saw a shimmering tear in the air where the crystal once was. Putting the crystal down, he reached behind his back, his hands feeling around until they found a briefcase.
Pulling it out from its sling, he placed it down, blowing off some dust. He opened it to reveal a computer monitor and keyboard, supplemented by various dials, buttons, and smaller screens with fancy wavelengths. He didn’t dare touch any of that.
The keyboard whizzed as it raised and angled itself slightly, the primary screen powering on. His eyes glanced up; the tear was getting larger, and the imprint of a disjointed hand began to press against the cloudy veil.
He rapped the side of the computer, urging it to go faster as it booted up. An antenna extended from the top, clicking into place. A prompt appeared on the screen in blue pixelated letters. The oscillators went into overdrive.
Fracture breach detected. Hostile manifestations eminent.
Suggested action:
Begin suture? Y/N
His finger jabbed at the Y key so fast it hurt. The machine responded quickly to the input; something inside began to buzz loudly. Lines of text he couldn’t make out scrolled through rapidly. Whatever was happening, it was causing the thing behind the veil to become more frantic.
His eyes landed on a sufficiently sized rock that he picked up, ready to use as meager self-defense. He glanced back down, away from the hand. The crystal was floating again, next to the machine. From the lowest point, it was seemingly unspooling, feeding into the computer. It shrunk as it spun around, getting faster and faster until it was half the size it once was.
Something about it hurt to look at, like staring at a bright light. There was stabbing pain, and his vision became blurry in a spectrum of colors. He rubbed his eyes and reopened them. It was hard, but he could see four letters type themselves onto the now blank screen.
Done.
He glanced back at the tear, and the hand trying to come through, but it was gone. No sound, no fanfare. Erased, like it never happened. Spooky. The crystal was now back on the ground, a small version of its original size. There was only a faint trace of cinnamon now.
A new prompt wrote itself onto the screen.
Sufficient Thread nearby.
Suggested action:
Prepare augmentation? Y/N
This time, his motion was hesitant. Tentatively, he pressed Y again. A metal cable slunk out from a hidden hatch on the lower half of the computer. He had an uncomfortable thought as he realized it was just the right size to fit inside the slot in his palm.
No, no, no. Awful. Horrible. He shook his arm, gritting his teeth as he prepared himself. He slowly edged his right hand close to the cable as it seemed to search for something. His guess was correct as the second his palm was close enough; it shot into it with a jolt. He wanted to reel back, but his entire right arm was paralyzed.
But he could feel something snake through it, reaching his shoulder. It was simultaneously cold and hot: a terribly uncomfortable contrast. On the monitor, options have etched themselves, ready to be picked.
Note, Thread levels are sufficient for (1) augment.
Body Foundation:
Restructure muscle fiber to a prime state for further augmentation. Input 1 to select.
Mind Foundation:
Prepare new neural pathways to facilitate further augmentation. Input 2 to select.
Weave Foundation:
Implant new organs to allow for Weave abilities. Input 3 to select.
Wow. All three sounded awful in their own way to go through. His left hand hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to press. He was becoming increasingly aware of the cable in his right arm. All three sounded enticing and not. They were also vague. And all implied having to do this again.
Eventually, he made his choice. Finger pressing down, he heard a confirming chime. For a moment he felt nothing. He gritted his teeth.
It wasn’t enough.
###
The back of Zed’s neck throbbed, right under his skull. He was leaning against something, probably a wall. He didn’t remember much of what had happened—only flashes of the cable. Speaking of the cable, it was gone. Sitting beside him, the computer had returned to its briefcase form. It was funny how unassuming it looked. Stretching, he began to move off the floor.Standing up, he felt at the base of his skull. Underneath the skin, he could feel two little squishy balls. They were sore to the touch, causing him to withdraw his hand. Those weren’t there before. A memory struck again.
Ah, right.
It was at that moment every part of his body kicked in to complain about something. Primarily that he was parched. Fumbling his hands around, he tried to feel where he had placed his bag.
Thankfully, it was still on his body, just having shifted behind him. From within, he pulled out one of those small plastic water bottles. Removing the cap, he downed the thing in a single swig. It tasted awful and barely did anything against his thirst. But it was just enough to let him focus on other things.
Looking around, it was still light out. The fact half the ceiling was missing made it apparent. Bits of greenery were about, freely drinking from the sun. He reached down to pick up the briefcase, checking over it.
Nothing made itself apparent to him, and he hooked it on the harness he wore on his back. After adjusting some straps and finagling with his coat, he felt around his bag for another water bottle. This time he was able to grab a full-sized one.
Downing it, he crumbled the plastic and tossed it against a wall. It bounced off, landing with a faint thud. Some part of him felt guilty, he found himself picking up both empty bottles and searching for any trash receptacle. This was stupid; who would care about him littering? He hadn’t seen a single other alive person since he woke up. Or dead one for that matter.
That thought made him pause, before he continued looking around for any bin in the ruins and debris. He didn’t know much, didn’t get a chance to. But he did know that the lack of cinnamon in the air told him he was safe enough to wander.
The buildings were odd. The best way to put it was they weren’t coherent. The architecture, or what remained of it, varied wildly. Sometimes, the ruins just had entire halves missing. No rubble or anything to signify where the other half went.
Some signs remained. Most damaged, with fading letters. He didn’t always recognize the languages on them. But the oddest of it all was that these buildings weren’t here before.
He remembered what it was like before. Before he was in Stasis. Outside the research facility, where he was an intern under his father, there was just a parking lot and some small residencies. It was meant to be a minor outpost, away from prying eyes.
But he was getting ahead of himself. By now, he managed to find a dumpster. Tossing the empty plastic in, he got his bearings. There were, of course, the various buildings. What looked like a supermall, or a chunk of one to his left. Some young trees poked through here and there. And far ahead of him was the research facility. That’s where he wanted to head back.
He wasn’t able to find many answers during his first search through, but maybe now he could shed some light. Navigating through the rubble, he was careful to watch his step. He didn’t want to slip onto the broken concrete.
Outside of the ruins, the air here was fresh, albeit chilly. He could now breathe deeply without inhaling copious amounts of dust. His thoughts trailed as he felt the base of his skull again.
Implant new organs to allow for Weave abilities.
Were these it? Had to be, no other explanation. Now he just had to figure out what Weave was. Did it have something to do with the crystal? Likely. He clearly remembered how it unspooled into that thread. Its iridescent appearance.
There had to be a connection. But he was cognizant of a sense of dormancy. Like whatever those organs were, they were asleep. It was strange, that feeling. However, he couldn’t pay much attention to it now. He had a new issue.
He was climbing up this particularly high pile of debris, and it was shifting underfoot. Slowing down his pace, he searched for steady footholds. Getting to the top wasn’t that hard, but it presented a new problem. Getting down.
On his way down, there was one moment when everything underfoot scattered. He was left hanging by his arms, legs flailing until they found purchase again. Slowly, he resumed crawling down. His breath was shaky until both feet were on solid ground once more.
He was getting closer to the facility. It wasn’t too large, composed of three segments. One for housing, one for research, and the smallest segment was for storage. His dad worked there, and Zed was an intern. However, he was kept in the dark about a lot of stuff.
As he walked, he kept remembering. He couldn’t help himself. But it did make the walk feel shorter.
His job was to gofer things around and fetch anything the actual scientists might need. He was told to keep questions to a minimum. Most were nice to him. A few were standoff-ish. One, in particular, was hostile to him, but his dad told them off.
A cloud passed overhead, the first one he had seen in a while. It was dark. The kind of dark that foretold rain. He had to move faster. His walking pace turned into a jog, and he returned to his head.
His Dad, well, he was always in work mode. Didn’t have much time for Zed. He was 18 and expected to do things on his own. While Zed worked, he was able to garner goodwill slowly. It culminated in him being allowed to use one of the facilities for a personal procedure.
He put himself willingly in Stasis. It was meant to last a few days at most. To help with recovery. He organized his off time to account for it. Then when he woke up, everyone was gone, and it had been clearly more than a few days.
He was walking up the pathway to the facility’s main entrance. Surprisingly intact concrete with flaking white paint and broken glass met him. He stopped, staring at the shards. They were like that when he woke up. He couldn’t help but wonder what broke them.
Shaking his head, he oriented himself. He could think more about stuff when he was back inside his room. He was just thankful for the temporary distraction his thoughts provided him. Stepping through the glass, he entered the facility.
Unlike the various ruins, the lights here still worked, albeit at only a dim glow. He was in the lobby area, where the receptionist would check him in. Anita. She always had a warm smile. If he closed his eyes, he could still see it.
The lobby was small, and it was a short walk to the desk. On top was a monitor, and a frayed mousepad with no mouse. Beside it sat a withered plant, dead. So was the computer. He checked.
Looking back, his earlier hunch was correct. He could start to hear the rain trickle down, slowly at first before changing to a furious downpour. He watched as it splashed slightly into the lobby.
Part of him wished he kept the empty bottles now so that he could refill them here. But who knew what was in that rainwater? Wasn’t worth the risk. Turning around, he would go deeper into the facility and the sound of rain would quiet. He was also aware of just how alone he was here. Halls once populated, now empty.
Besides him.
It was something he kept pushing off. But such attempts only lasted so long. His chest was tight. God, he was alone. All alone, and yet not. The hand behind the tear was something he wouldn’t forget. He tried to regardless.
He was an adult now, damn it. Yet he felt brought back to his youngest years, afraid of what might lurk underneath the bed. The lights were dim, but they were enough to reveal the way and for his imagination to run wild. He blinked away anything the mind conjured.
By memory, he navigated this place, these halls, and rooms. But there was something different. Time has gotten a hold of this place. But it hasn’t touched him.
Before he knew it, he was in front of his room. The benefits of a small facility. The door was ajar, and the room was barely lit by a window. His eyes had since adjusted, however. He entered, and closed the door behind him. Standing inside his room made him realize how tired he was.
By some boon, his mattress was intact, though the blankets had since faded in color. It was a blur to him how quickly he took off the coat and harness—placing his few belongings on the table near the back wall. He didn’t feel like undressing further before collapsing onto the bed.
Before he could count to 3, he crashed.