Post by Lone Dancer on Jul 12, 2023 23:42:58 GMT
Zed unfolded the note, turning it over in his hands. He was sitting on his bed, the window letting the sun fill the room with light. He knew the note’s contents by heart but couldn’t help but reread it.
To my son, Zed.
I have much to say, but not enough time. I wish I could see you wake up, but I am sick. I shall die knowing my illness dies with me. The world has changed. Humanity’s hubris was its downfall. But it won’t be yours. I was able to build a device, one originally meant for me, but well, that ship has sailed. So it’s yours now. It’s an Interface, a device that can utilize Thread. It was at first a prototype, but I have rigged together further functionality.
These are the important things to know. You will need Thread. It smells like cinnamon. But things will protect it. Watch out for rips in the veil. You will understand in time. The Interface is the solution. It can patch the holes and provide means for you to survive. You just have to fuel it. There is more, too much more. But I know you can figure it out.
Finally, I just wanted to say while I didn’t fully understand at first, I don’t need to. You are my son, and I am proud of the man I saw you growing into.
With love,
Dr. Dalton Coda
Zed folded the paper once more, feeling the crease lines. He stared off into the wall, before his eyes slowly fell to the briefcase sitting on the table. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He rubbed at them. Damn it. Placing the note to his side, he got up, grabbed the Interface, and sat back down with it on his lap.
He opened it up, looking over the array of buttons before moving his gaze to the monitor, which was going through a boot sequence. It was automatically going through some settings. He didn’t know how to change those, nor if he even wanted to. He did take note of the system name, ArachnOS.
The keyboard angled itself towards him as stuff flashed on the screen. Like before, the UI was simple, just text.
Greetings, User.
Insufficient Thread for most operations.
Suggested action:
Check logs? Y/N
The last time he checked, the logs were blank. Still, he pressed Y and Enter with a clack. New words printed themselves right below his confirmation.
1> Fracture Detected (Minor)
2> Suture Operation (Successful)
3> Augment Operation (Weave Foundation)
He hoped for timestamps, but looking at the first log interested him. It appeared to imply Fracture sizes. Which was… concerning. Did that mean bigger things could come through? Likely.
However, the command line was waiting for further input. He just had no idea what to type in. He was also tempted to press one of the buttons or twist a dial. See what would happen. But the paranoia that he would somehow break everything held him back. He needed this thing intact.
Sighing, he shut down the Interface, closing it. What to do, what to do? He grabbed the note that fell to his side, opening it. Resting his elbows on the briefcase, his eyes lingered on the last line. He sat there in a mild haze, processing, but something eventually tickled his nose.
Cinnamon.
The hairs on the back of his neck shot up. His mind sharpened immediately. Shit, this was bad. He caught the Interface by the handle when he stood up. That was close. He then scrambled around his room, preparing everything he could. Thankfully, he traveled light. Not that he had a choice in the matter.
Strapping on the harness, he attached the Interface to it. Much better than having to lug it around by hand. After that, he slid his coat over it. Everything was in place; he had his bag. It was go time. The cinnamon was getting stronger, and that’s when he first heard it.
There was a series of repeated clicks echoing down the hallways. Carefully Zed made his way out of his room, peeking out the door, eyes wide open to spot anything. It was dim out in the hallway. No windows to provide extra illumination, leaving all the work to half-dead lights.
He saw nothing. He wanted to sigh in relief but felt like any noise would reveal him to whatever was out there. The clicking sounds continued. He shuffled his way through the door, stepping firmly into the hall. He felt exposed.
Door now open, and the light from his room added some further visibility to the hallway, but not much. How he wished he had something to hold, to use as self-defense. The only solid object he had was the Interface, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be using that as a melee weapon.
That Body Foundation augment sounded really appealing at this point, but Zed shoved that thought aside. He needed to stay aware. At the moment, the clicking sounds were straying away from where he was, but who knew how long that would last?
Swallowing his hesitation, he started to move. Conscious of every step, he winced at his clothes rubbed together, making a rustling sound. He felt his heartbeat rise. Deep breaths, he told himself.
He continued down the hall, running a hand on the wall, keeping an ear out for any change in the clicking. When he reached the end of the hall into an intersection, he froze when he realized the sound had paused. He craned his head to the side.
Joy. Butterflies. Sunshine and rainbows and what have you, there was a thing at the end of the left hall. Grey skin interrupted by darker patches, it stooped on all fours. Looking down revealed overly long claws on every foot. The source of the clicking as they tapped against the tile floor.
It was looking away from him. Or, was anyways. It slowly turned around to face him, like it felt his gaze.
And it laughed.
Nope. Zed turned around and booked it down the right hall. He would have to take the roundabout way to the lobby. The clicking grew rapid as it cackled and crowed, growing closer.
His own footsteps were thunderous, and his coat jostled against him. He pushed against the walls to make sharp turns, trying everything in his power not to stumble and fall in the darkness. Adrenaline-fueled, his speed surprised him.
Turn here, turn there, he was starting to curse the architects of this place. Pushing through some doors, he ran through one of the storage units. Shelves with random doodads were all around him, covered in dust.
The thing was gaining right behind him, bursting through the door. Thinking fast, he tried to shove over one of the shelves. Pulling as hard as he could, he brought the thing crashing down, which started a domino effect on the other shelves. Stuff spilled out, shattering. He hopped away from the mess.
Looking back, he saw the thing take a pause. Its crumpled face tilted, and it laughed again, an awful sound. Metal began to screech as its claws made a path for itself. That’s when he stopped looking and continued to run.
Shoving his shoulder against the exit door, he was back in the hallways. Quickly navigating the path in his head, he cursed as he realized he was still several turns away. His legs resumed pumping, and his breath burned.
As he made the turn, almost tripping from the narrow margin, he heard something crash behind him. That thing was back on his trail. The horrible laughter crawled into his ears, and he experienced a splitting headache for a moment.
He slowed, and it tried to pounce on him. Hearing it grow closer, he dove to the side, scrambling to get back on his feet. A glance behind him revealed how close he was to disembowelment. This time, the thing didn’t laugh. The clicking took its place.
It was the motivation he needed to run faster. But adrenaline only lasts so long; his body ached and protested at movement. He wanted to throw up. Not like he had much to toss. He made another turn, almost stumbling again. As he stabilized himself, he felt something brush against his face. Fresh air.
He could see it, the light at the end of the tunnel. The lobby. He was almost there. He ignored how he had no plan for when he was outside. He wanted to leap at the light, but his exhausted legs betrayed him. He tripped, skidding forward in a tumble. The thing’s laughter grew to a cacophony.
Everything began to slow down as his panic overtook him. Twisting around, he could see the thing preparing to pounce toward him again. Sprawled out on the floor, it knew he couldn’t try to dodge. Zed tried to think of anything, before falling short. He let his head fall back in defeat. In the corner of his eye, something glinted in the light—the broken window.
Realizing his options, he grabbed a jagged glass fragment, gritting his teeth as it sliced into his palm, and whipped it towards the cackling thing. Its claws were splayed out, reaching for him from the air.
Its trajectory made it land right on the glass shard, and it plunged into flesh, sliding from neck to stomach.
It landed on him, knocking the wind from his lungs. He tried to breathe as the thing wheezed on top of him. Weakly, its claws fell on his arms, but they didn’t cut. An oily substance seeped from its wound, spreading all over him and mixing with his blood. It rasped and fell still. Dead.
Zed didn’t know how long he rested like that, staring at the ceiling and slowly breathing. His left hand stung, and he felt every heartbeat. Mustering his strength, he shoved the corpse off him, trying to stand up. He could only sit.
Hands shaking, he reached behind him to check on the Interface. Placing it on his lap, he hesitantly opened it. He kept his left hand away for fear of getting blood over it. He had a crying laugh when it seemed fine. He was about to close it when it beeped at him, the antenna popping out.
Thread detected. Source of bio-interference: deceased.
Suggested action:
Harvest? Y/N
His finger hovered over the Y key. It seemed silly to him, all this Thread stuff. He was told it would help him survive, but when that thing came barreling down, Thread did nothing. He lived because he got lucky. In fact, he was pretty sure Thread was the whole reason that thing was here in the first place.
Still, he pressed the sequence of Y and then Enter. The cable slunk out from its hatch on the lower half of the machine, and he subconsciously backed his arm away. This time, however, it slunk toward the corpse to his side. It almost seemed to consider something before it plunged into its flesh and began to dig around, searching for something.
Clearly, it found what it was looking for. The cable pulled back out, and Zed caught a glimpse of the tail end of shimmering Thread before it got sucked into the cable. He took the Interface off his lap and put it on the floor, placing it away from the blood and unknown liquid.
In a display reminiscent of how fish first crawled onto land, he dragged himself to the outside. Finding a patch of grass worthy of his blessing, he emptied his meager stomach contents. He dry heaved for a bit before it turned to just coughing.
Wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand, he vigorously rubbed it against non-tainted grass. When he felt clean enough, he tried to stand up once more. He was wobbly, but he managed to become upright. He stumbled back to the Interface, his legs almost buckling with every step.
The still rational part of his mind was concerned about the liquid staining his clothes or being hazardous. The tired part didn’t care as he plopped himself down. His left palm was throbbing, demanding his attention. What to do about it, he didn’t know. Probably should wrap it up.
Glancing back at the Interface, it seemed like it finished its business. He sighed. Turning himself around, the screen had a familiar message.
Sufficient Thread stored.
Suggested actions:
Prepare augmentation? Y/N
For the first time, he entered no. He wanted to know where the hell that thing came from before he incapacitated himself for an unknown duration. There was still a subtle scent of cinnamon, and he didn’t know if it was from the corpse or elsewhere.
Speaking of the corpse, it looked faded. Almost translucent. And the oily liquid leaking from the thing? It was evaporating before his eyes. Well, that took care of his half-hearted staining worries. Just left his own blood to deal with.
But he realized how his hand felt funny. It wasn’t the ‘Oh, I just cut my hand on sharp glass’ funny; it was a ‘Huh, the cut is healing itself’ funny. Wiping away blood with his other hand, wincing at the process, he peered closed.
He could see tiny, almost imperceptible filaments loop themselves between his flesh, pulling it together like tiny little stitches. It was fascinating to watch, albeit slow. But it was one of the few things going in his favor, so he would take it. It was better than his natural healing.
If he had to guess, he’d say it would take about half an hour for it to mend up. But hey, that was one less thing to worry about. He just needed to keep it clean to stop infection. At that thought, he paused, checked his bag, and sighed with relief that his plastic bottles were still intact.
He took one and poured half of it over his hand. It stung a bit, but it made him feel better about the cleanliness. Better to have something over nothing, right?
While his body was pretty banged up, his stuff thankfully survived. He did make a mental note of needing to find more water and food. He closed the Interface again, pulling it towards him by the handle. After re-attaching it to its harness, the weight was oddly comforting.
The news that his wound was healing and his stuff survived was enough to bring some energy back to his step, regardless of his exhaustion. Or maybe it was a side-effect of the Thread. He didn’t know. Standing up, brushing dust and blood of his coat, he looked around.
The corpse was still there, but the oily stuff was all gone. There was a blood stain on the ground and a crimson-stained shard. He noticed the top half actually snapped off, still stuck inside the thing.
Looking outside the lobby, he could oversee the various broken buildings. One, in particular, caught his attention. The supermall, the one he passed by earlier, something was growing on it. Straining his eyes, he could see bulbous sacs composed of a cloudy film.
As he watched, one of them writhed, and something popped out. Even from far away, he could make out the grey skin with darker patches. And the long claws. It shook itself before scampering off to a direction thankfully opposite.
He cursed. Pulling back, he considered his options. Clearly, here was no longer safe. He needed to move, but he wasn’t sure where. While the facility was an enclosed space, it was one where he knew the layout.
His legs ached, but he turned around to walk back inside. He wanted to return to his room, do whatever augment stuff he needed, and leave. Go somewhere, get more Thread somehow, see how it could help him.
The halls felt odd walking through them again. All too silent, without the cruel laughter and pounding feet that echoed before. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, after being exposed to the bright outdoors.
It wasn’t long before he saw the light trickling out from his room, the door still open. A few more steps is what he told himself. Bracing himself against the door frame, he looked inside. His room was in disarray, just as he left it.
Checking over his injured palm, it had stopped dripping blood. The cuts were still raw and stung, but they were in a better state than before. At least Thread did something for him this time; he didn’t know where to find medical supplies that haven’t expired.
Turning his other palm around, he looked at the embedded metal slot. He flexed his fingers at the thought of that metal cable slinking inwards yet again. He looked closer at the thing. The slot was small and rectangular. It had a cover that could be pushed down, and pushing it down with his finger made his arm feel really funny.
Lesson learned, he retreated his finger. He sat down on his bed, and that brought with it a sense of major deja vu. He then realized he left the note on the bed in his hurry. He made sure it was folded neatly before sliding it into his pocket.
He pulled out the Interface from behind him. Opening it on his lap again, the wait was short as text flashed into being.
Sufficient Thread stored.
Suggested action:
Prepare augmentation? Y/N.
While still uneasy with the idea of temporary incapacitation as it did its business, especially with more of those things about, he needed any edge he could get. He wouldn’t get as lucky again.
Entering his confirmation, the cable came out. Seeing how it dug around in a corpse recently, he was less than thrilled to stick it inside his own body. Maybe it sterilized itself. Well, too late to second guess, it already slunk inside his arm.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the feeling. Like before, his arm grew paralyzed. He watched as words scrolled by, and he could catch a few. There were mentions of biological info being updated, and he presumed it was his own. It did also note that his body was wounded. Interesting.
Didn’t take long for the options to present themselves like they did before. Unlike before, there were four options, and the opening note was slightly different.
System note for first-time pattern implants: Internal Thread stores will be replenished on selection. Only one (1) augment can be chosen.
Tapestry (Kinetic Blast):
Implants new Weave pattern, allowing the user to weave Thread into kinetic constructs. Input 1 to select.
Tapestry (Thermal Spark):
Implants new Weave pattern, allowing the user to weave Thread into thermal constructs. Input 2 to select.
Body Foundation:
Restructure muscle fiber to a prime state for further augmentation. Input 3 to select.
Mind Foundation:
Prepare new neural pathways to facilitate further augmentation. Input 4 to select.
Zed couldn’t help himself. He stared at the first two options. First, they implied Foundation augments didn’t get useful until the next set. Secondly, it made him feel better about his original choice.
Despite those two facts, he was torn. On one hand, they sounded immediately useful, but they required Thread which was a resource he was lacking. It also presented the choice to get the Body foundation so he could begin building on that.
Damn it. So he needs Thread to get the augments, use whatever Tapestries were, and he was pretty sure he needed it for healing if his hand was any indicator. All of this was pointing for him to go towards the supermall and see what was causing the growths that are spawning the things.
That was the last thing he wanted to do. His brain replayed how the thing pounced, claws extended at him. Clawthings, a part of his mind spoke up, desiring a better name for them. He rubbed his eyes. He was getting ahead of himself.
His options presented themselves that he needed more Thread. Getting one of the two Tapestries would likely help with that. Once more Thread was secured, he could use it to get the other foundation augments. Not to mention, the potential for more Tapestries was certainly enticing. He was also growing more aware of the cable in his arm as it seemed to writhe at his indecision.
Eyes drawn again to the top two options, he weighed them in his head. Kinetic Blast seemed more generally applicable, but he couldn’t shake the idea of fireballs from Thermal Spark. If he set things on fire, however, he would be unlikely to control how that fire spread, thus making it a risk to him as well.
Agh. Reluctantly he pressed entered in 1. The machine wasted no time. Gritting his teeth, preparing for a sense of pain like before, he was pleasantly surprised by the mild discomfort instead. He felt something spread from his chest to his neck, both warm and cold.
It wrapped around the Weave organs that were pressed against the base of his skull, and Zed realized that good things end. Sucking in shallow breaths, he was not given the mercy of falling subconscious as he did prior.
There was an great itch at the back of his mind, a growing awareness of something he didn’t know before. It called to him, and Zed reached out, hoping for a respite. His vision grew dizzy as he saw patterns inscribe themselves in the air.
No, not so much patterns. Instructions. As quickly as the glimpse came, it vanished. The pain stopped, leaving behind only the memory.
The cable slunk out of him with a wet plop, retreating back into the Interface. Zed stared blankly into the distance, slowly processing the new awareness in his head. He groaned as he put the machine to his side, standing up.
Yanking a water bottle from his bag, he repeated downing it in one go. He tossed the empty plastic into the trash basket in the corner. Looking out the window, it was still plenty light out. Barely even noon.
It reminded Zed that everything that happened earlier was in a timespan of under an hour. Felt wrong, but adrenaline altered your perception of time.
Turning back to place the Interface on its harness yet again, Zed decided to use the remaining daylight while he still had it. This facility wasn’t safe anymore.
To my son, Zed.
I have much to say, but not enough time. I wish I could see you wake up, but I am sick. I shall die knowing my illness dies with me. The world has changed. Humanity’s hubris was its downfall. But it won’t be yours. I was able to build a device, one originally meant for me, but well, that ship has sailed. So it’s yours now. It’s an Interface, a device that can utilize Thread. It was at first a prototype, but I have rigged together further functionality.
These are the important things to know. You will need Thread. It smells like cinnamon. But things will protect it. Watch out for rips in the veil. You will understand in time. The Interface is the solution. It can patch the holes and provide means for you to survive. You just have to fuel it. There is more, too much more. But I know you can figure it out.
Finally, I just wanted to say while I didn’t fully understand at first, I don’t need to. You are my son, and I am proud of the man I saw you growing into.
With love,
Dr. Dalton Coda
Zed folded the paper once more, feeling the crease lines. He stared off into the wall, before his eyes slowly fell to the briefcase sitting on the table. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He rubbed at them. Damn it. Placing the note to his side, he got up, grabbed the Interface, and sat back down with it on his lap.
He opened it up, looking over the array of buttons before moving his gaze to the monitor, which was going through a boot sequence. It was automatically going through some settings. He didn’t know how to change those, nor if he even wanted to. He did take note of the system name, ArachnOS.
The keyboard angled itself towards him as stuff flashed on the screen. Like before, the UI was simple, just text.
Greetings, User.
Insufficient Thread for most operations.
Suggested action:
Check logs? Y/N
The last time he checked, the logs were blank. Still, he pressed Y and Enter with a clack. New words printed themselves right below his confirmation.
1> Fracture Detected (Minor)
2> Suture Operation (Successful)
3> Augment Operation (Weave Foundation)
He hoped for timestamps, but looking at the first log interested him. It appeared to imply Fracture sizes. Which was… concerning. Did that mean bigger things could come through? Likely.
However, the command line was waiting for further input. He just had no idea what to type in. He was also tempted to press one of the buttons or twist a dial. See what would happen. But the paranoia that he would somehow break everything held him back. He needed this thing intact.
Sighing, he shut down the Interface, closing it. What to do, what to do? He grabbed the note that fell to his side, opening it. Resting his elbows on the briefcase, his eyes lingered on the last line. He sat there in a mild haze, processing, but something eventually tickled his nose.
Cinnamon.
The hairs on the back of his neck shot up. His mind sharpened immediately. Shit, this was bad. He caught the Interface by the handle when he stood up. That was close. He then scrambled around his room, preparing everything he could. Thankfully, he traveled light. Not that he had a choice in the matter.
Strapping on the harness, he attached the Interface to it. Much better than having to lug it around by hand. After that, he slid his coat over it. Everything was in place; he had his bag. It was go time. The cinnamon was getting stronger, and that’s when he first heard it.
There was a series of repeated clicks echoing down the hallways. Carefully Zed made his way out of his room, peeking out the door, eyes wide open to spot anything. It was dim out in the hallway. No windows to provide extra illumination, leaving all the work to half-dead lights.
He saw nothing. He wanted to sigh in relief but felt like any noise would reveal him to whatever was out there. The clicking sounds continued. He shuffled his way through the door, stepping firmly into the hall. He felt exposed.
Door now open, and the light from his room added some further visibility to the hallway, but not much. How he wished he had something to hold, to use as self-defense. The only solid object he had was the Interface, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be using that as a melee weapon.
That Body Foundation augment sounded really appealing at this point, but Zed shoved that thought aside. He needed to stay aware. At the moment, the clicking sounds were straying away from where he was, but who knew how long that would last?
Swallowing his hesitation, he started to move. Conscious of every step, he winced at his clothes rubbed together, making a rustling sound. He felt his heartbeat rise. Deep breaths, he told himself.
He continued down the hall, running a hand on the wall, keeping an ear out for any change in the clicking. When he reached the end of the hall into an intersection, he froze when he realized the sound had paused. He craned his head to the side.
Joy. Butterflies. Sunshine and rainbows and what have you, there was a thing at the end of the left hall. Grey skin interrupted by darker patches, it stooped on all fours. Looking down revealed overly long claws on every foot. The source of the clicking as they tapped against the tile floor.
It was looking away from him. Or, was anyways. It slowly turned around to face him, like it felt his gaze.
And it laughed.
Nope. Zed turned around and booked it down the right hall. He would have to take the roundabout way to the lobby. The clicking grew rapid as it cackled and crowed, growing closer.
His own footsteps were thunderous, and his coat jostled against him. He pushed against the walls to make sharp turns, trying everything in his power not to stumble and fall in the darkness. Adrenaline-fueled, his speed surprised him.
Turn here, turn there, he was starting to curse the architects of this place. Pushing through some doors, he ran through one of the storage units. Shelves with random doodads were all around him, covered in dust.
The thing was gaining right behind him, bursting through the door. Thinking fast, he tried to shove over one of the shelves. Pulling as hard as he could, he brought the thing crashing down, which started a domino effect on the other shelves. Stuff spilled out, shattering. He hopped away from the mess.
Looking back, he saw the thing take a pause. Its crumpled face tilted, and it laughed again, an awful sound. Metal began to screech as its claws made a path for itself. That’s when he stopped looking and continued to run.
Shoving his shoulder against the exit door, he was back in the hallways. Quickly navigating the path in his head, he cursed as he realized he was still several turns away. His legs resumed pumping, and his breath burned.
As he made the turn, almost tripping from the narrow margin, he heard something crash behind him. That thing was back on his trail. The horrible laughter crawled into his ears, and he experienced a splitting headache for a moment.
He slowed, and it tried to pounce on him. Hearing it grow closer, he dove to the side, scrambling to get back on his feet. A glance behind him revealed how close he was to disembowelment. This time, the thing didn’t laugh. The clicking took its place.
It was the motivation he needed to run faster. But adrenaline only lasts so long; his body ached and protested at movement. He wanted to throw up. Not like he had much to toss. He made another turn, almost stumbling again. As he stabilized himself, he felt something brush against his face. Fresh air.
He could see it, the light at the end of the tunnel. The lobby. He was almost there. He ignored how he had no plan for when he was outside. He wanted to leap at the light, but his exhausted legs betrayed him. He tripped, skidding forward in a tumble. The thing’s laughter grew to a cacophony.
Everything began to slow down as his panic overtook him. Twisting around, he could see the thing preparing to pounce toward him again. Sprawled out on the floor, it knew he couldn’t try to dodge. Zed tried to think of anything, before falling short. He let his head fall back in defeat. In the corner of his eye, something glinted in the light—the broken window.
Realizing his options, he grabbed a jagged glass fragment, gritting his teeth as it sliced into his palm, and whipped it towards the cackling thing. Its claws were splayed out, reaching for him from the air.
Its trajectory made it land right on the glass shard, and it plunged into flesh, sliding from neck to stomach.
It landed on him, knocking the wind from his lungs. He tried to breathe as the thing wheezed on top of him. Weakly, its claws fell on his arms, but they didn’t cut. An oily substance seeped from its wound, spreading all over him and mixing with his blood. It rasped and fell still. Dead.
Zed didn’t know how long he rested like that, staring at the ceiling and slowly breathing. His left hand stung, and he felt every heartbeat. Mustering his strength, he shoved the corpse off him, trying to stand up. He could only sit.
Hands shaking, he reached behind him to check on the Interface. Placing it on his lap, he hesitantly opened it. He kept his left hand away for fear of getting blood over it. He had a crying laugh when it seemed fine. He was about to close it when it beeped at him, the antenna popping out.
Thread detected. Source of bio-interference: deceased.
Suggested action:
Harvest? Y/N
His finger hovered over the Y key. It seemed silly to him, all this Thread stuff. He was told it would help him survive, but when that thing came barreling down, Thread did nothing. He lived because he got lucky. In fact, he was pretty sure Thread was the whole reason that thing was here in the first place.
Still, he pressed the sequence of Y and then Enter. The cable slunk out from its hatch on the lower half of the machine, and he subconsciously backed his arm away. This time, however, it slunk toward the corpse to his side. It almost seemed to consider something before it plunged into its flesh and began to dig around, searching for something.
Clearly, it found what it was looking for. The cable pulled back out, and Zed caught a glimpse of the tail end of shimmering Thread before it got sucked into the cable. He took the Interface off his lap and put it on the floor, placing it away from the blood and unknown liquid.
In a display reminiscent of how fish first crawled onto land, he dragged himself to the outside. Finding a patch of grass worthy of his blessing, he emptied his meager stomach contents. He dry heaved for a bit before it turned to just coughing.
Wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand, he vigorously rubbed it against non-tainted grass. When he felt clean enough, he tried to stand up once more. He was wobbly, but he managed to become upright. He stumbled back to the Interface, his legs almost buckling with every step.
The still rational part of his mind was concerned about the liquid staining his clothes or being hazardous. The tired part didn’t care as he plopped himself down. His left palm was throbbing, demanding his attention. What to do about it, he didn’t know. Probably should wrap it up.
Glancing back at the Interface, it seemed like it finished its business. He sighed. Turning himself around, the screen had a familiar message.
Sufficient Thread stored.
Suggested actions:
Prepare augmentation? Y/N
For the first time, he entered no. He wanted to know where the hell that thing came from before he incapacitated himself for an unknown duration. There was still a subtle scent of cinnamon, and he didn’t know if it was from the corpse or elsewhere.
Speaking of the corpse, it looked faded. Almost translucent. And the oily liquid leaking from the thing? It was evaporating before his eyes. Well, that took care of his half-hearted staining worries. Just left his own blood to deal with.
But he realized how his hand felt funny. It wasn’t the ‘Oh, I just cut my hand on sharp glass’ funny; it was a ‘Huh, the cut is healing itself’ funny. Wiping away blood with his other hand, wincing at the process, he peered closed.
He could see tiny, almost imperceptible filaments loop themselves between his flesh, pulling it together like tiny little stitches. It was fascinating to watch, albeit slow. But it was one of the few things going in his favor, so he would take it. It was better than his natural healing.
If he had to guess, he’d say it would take about half an hour for it to mend up. But hey, that was one less thing to worry about. He just needed to keep it clean to stop infection. At that thought, he paused, checked his bag, and sighed with relief that his plastic bottles were still intact.
He took one and poured half of it over his hand. It stung a bit, but it made him feel better about the cleanliness. Better to have something over nothing, right?
While his body was pretty banged up, his stuff thankfully survived. He did make a mental note of needing to find more water and food. He closed the Interface again, pulling it towards him by the handle. After re-attaching it to its harness, the weight was oddly comforting.
The news that his wound was healing and his stuff survived was enough to bring some energy back to his step, regardless of his exhaustion. Or maybe it was a side-effect of the Thread. He didn’t know. Standing up, brushing dust and blood of his coat, he looked around.
The corpse was still there, but the oily stuff was all gone. There was a blood stain on the ground and a crimson-stained shard. He noticed the top half actually snapped off, still stuck inside the thing.
Looking outside the lobby, he could oversee the various broken buildings. One, in particular, caught his attention. The supermall, the one he passed by earlier, something was growing on it. Straining his eyes, he could see bulbous sacs composed of a cloudy film.
As he watched, one of them writhed, and something popped out. Even from far away, he could make out the grey skin with darker patches. And the long claws. It shook itself before scampering off to a direction thankfully opposite.
He cursed. Pulling back, he considered his options. Clearly, here was no longer safe. He needed to move, but he wasn’t sure where. While the facility was an enclosed space, it was one where he knew the layout.
His legs ached, but he turned around to walk back inside. He wanted to return to his room, do whatever augment stuff he needed, and leave. Go somewhere, get more Thread somehow, see how it could help him.
The halls felt odd walking through them again. All too silent, without the cruel laughter and pounding feet that echoed before. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, after being exposed to the bright outdoors.
It wasn’t long before he saw the light trickling out from his room, the door still open. A few more steps is what he told himself. Bracing himself against the door frame, he looked inside. His room was in disarray, just as he left it.
Checking over his injured palm, it had stopped dripping blood. The cuts were still raw and stung, but they were in a better state than before. At least Thread did something for him this time; he didn’t know where to find medical supplies that haven’t expired.
Turning his other palm around, he looked at the embedded metal slot. He flexed his fingers at the thought of that metal cable slinking inwards yet again. He looked closer at the thing. The slot was small and rectangular. It had a cover that could be pushed down, and pushing it down with his finger made his arm feel really funny.
Lesson learned, he retreated his finger. He sat down on his bed, and that brought with it a sense of major deja vu. He then realized he left the note on the bed in his hurry. He made sure it was folded neatly before sliding it into his pocket.
He pulled out the Interface from behind him. Opening it on his lap again, the wait was short as text flashed into being.
Sufficient Thread stored.
Suggested action:
Prepare augmentation? Y/N.
While still uneasy with the idea of temporary incapacitation as it did its business, especially with more of those things about, he needed any edge he could get. He wouldn’t get as lucky again.
Entering his confirmation, the cable came out. Seeing how it dug around in a corpse recently, he was less than thrilled to stick it inside his own body. Maybe it sterilized itself. Well, too late to second guess, it already slunk inside his arm.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth at the feeling. Like before, his arm grew paralyzed. He watched as words scrolled by, and he could catch a few. There were mentions of biological info being updated, and he presumed it was his own. It did also note that his body was wounded. Interesting.
Didn’t take long for the options to present themselves like they did before. Unlike before, there were four options, and the opening note was slightly different.
System note for first-time pattern implants: Internal Thread stores will be replenished on selection. Only one (1) augment can be chosen.
Tapestry (Kinetic Blast):
Implants new Weave pattern, allowing the user to weave Thread into kinetic constructs. Input 1 to select.
Tapestry (Thermal Spark):
Implants new Weave pattern, allowing the user to weave Thread into thermal constructs. Input 2 to select.
Body Foundation:
Restructure muscle fiber to a prime state for further augmentation. Input 3 to select.
Mind Foundation:
Prepare new neural pathways to facilitate further augmentation. Input 4 to select.
Zed couldn’t help himself. He stared at the first two options. First, they implied Foundation augments didn’t get useful until the next set. Secondly, it made him feel better about his original choice.
Despite those two facts, he was torn. On one hand, they sounded immediately useful, but they required Thread which was a resource he was lacking. It also presented the choice to get the Body foundation so he could begin building on that.
Damn it. So he needs Thread to get the augments, use whatever Tapestries were, and he was pretty sure he needed it for healing if his hand was any indicator. All of this was pointing for him to go towards the supermall and see what was causing the growths that are spawning the things.
That was the last thing he wanted to do. His brain replayed how the thing pounced, claws extended at him. Clawthings, a part of his mind spoke up, desiring a better name for them. He rubbed his eyes. He was getting ahead of himself.
His options presented themselves that he needed more Thread. Getting one of the two Tapestries would likely help with that. Once more Thread was secured, he could use it to get the other foundation augments. Not to mention, the potential for more Tapestries was certainly enticing. He was also growing more aware of the cable in his arm as it seemed to writhe at his indecision.
Eyes drawn again to the top two options, he weighed them in his head. Kinetic Blast seemed more generally applicable, but he couldn’t shake the idea of fireballs from Thermal Spark. If he set things on fire, however, he would be unlikely to control how that fire spread, thus making it a risk to him as well.
Agh. Reluctantly he pressed entered in 1. The machine wasted no time. Gritting his teeth, preparing for a sense of pain like before, he was pleasantly surprised by the mild discomfort instead. He felt something spread from his chest to his neck, both warm and cold.
It wrapped around the Weave organs that were pressed against the base of his skull, and Zed realized that good things end. Sucking in shallow breaths, he was not given the mercy of falling subconscious as he did prior.
There was an great itch at the back of his mind, a growing awareness of something he didn’t know before. It called to him, and Zed reached out, hoping for a respite. His vision grew dizzy as he saw patterns inscribe themselves in the air.
No, not so much patterns. Instructions. As quickly as the glimpse came, it vanished. The pain stopped, leaving behind only the memory.
The cable slunk out of him with a wet plop, retreating back into the Interface. Zed stared blankly into the distance, slowly processing the new awareness in his head. He groaned as he put the machine to his side, standing up.
Yanking a water bottle from his bag, he repeated downing it in one go. He tossed the empty plastic into the trash basket in the corner. Looking out the window, it was still plenty light out. Barely even noon.
It reminded Zed that everything that happened earlier was in a timespan of under an hour. Felt wrong, but adrenaline altered your perception of time.
Turning back to place the Interface on its harness yet again, Zed decided to use the remaining daylight while he still had it. This facility wasn’t safe anymore.