《Nanotech Cultivator》 Chapter 1: Awakening It¡¯s a ceiling, I thought to myself. I think I am looking at a ceiling¡ªor at least the remains of a ceiling. It looked like your standard steel rafters covered in drywall. How could I tell they were steel and not wood? About half of the drywall had fallen, revealing the rusty steel roof rafters commonly used in commercial flat-roof buildings. Though, none I know of looked a couple of hundred years old though. Thankfully, none of the old, crumbly looking drywall had dropped near where I was currently lying down. I had awoken just a minute before, and the grogginess I felt seemed really strange. I don¡¯t remember ever feeling like this when I¡¯ve woken up before, and with that weird ceiling above me, I started to freak out a little bit. Where the fuck am I? I think I may even have a headache on the way. A small pain was staring at my temples. I slowly rolled my head side to side in an attempt to clear my mind, afraid that if I moved too quickly, this nascent headache would become a full-blown migraine. The old weathered fake leather, It just had to be plastic, actually, crackled as I moved my head. As my grogginess started to clear, I raised my hand to rub my temple and I got my second surprise in less than a couple of minutes. I could barely raise my arm. I felt as weak as a kitten. I stared at my arm. It looked like the arms you saw on concentration camp survivors in those old WWII films! "What the hell," I croaked. My voice was barely a whisper and sounded as dry as concrete. The sound echoed faintly in the decaying room, a lonely reminder of my disoriented state. I tried to swallow a few times but my mouth was too dry. I chewed my tongue and the inside my cheek in an attempt to get my mouth to produce some saliva. After a minute or two, I could finally swallow and my mouth began to feel a bit moist again. With a monumental effort, I pushed myself up on my elbows and started to look around. The brittle plastic or vinyl covering of the mattress crackled again as my elbows sank into the old, no longer springy foam underneath. Okay, no one ever expects to wake of to this, I thought, Or, the Spanish Inquisition, the nerd part of my brain added. A small dry laugh escaped my lips The sight was so strange, alien even, that it took me a few minutes to acknowledge what I was looking at. Had I not been a gamer and played Fallout, I would probably still be blankly staring at my surroundings. It kind of looked some of the old office building in the game, minus the 50¡¯s retro vibe. I was looking at what could only be described as a post-apocalyptic version of a hospital room. Definitely not my bedroom. The walls were cracked and crumbling, with chunks of plaster scattered on the floor. An old IV stand lay toppled in the corner, its bag long dried out, shriveled up and mostly crumbled to dust. Old, dust filled, cobwebs hung thick in the corners, their strands shimmering faintly in the dim light filtering through a single, grime-covered window. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay, mingled with the faint metallic tang of rust. "What the hell," I croaked again, more to hear my own voice than anything else. I slowly took in my surroundings, a mantra playing over and over in my mind. Don¡¯t freak out, don¡¯t freak out. I was on the remains of a hospital bed that at one time in its apparently long life had been a fairly high-end model. Now it looked like it had decayed to the point that if I moved even just a little bit, it might collapse and send my now, apparently boney, ass to the floor. That should probably seem weird, but that was fairly normal compared to the area right near my body. Within the range of approximately six inches from my body, everything was perfectly clean.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I¡¯m not just talking clean, I¡¯m talking crystal clear, mountain stream fresh. But, past the six-inch limit, everything was caked with dust, mold, and mildew... and... the floor was littered with bones. What the FUCK!?!? Most of the bones were small, like rat or rabbit size, but a few were larger, like from a dog or maybe even a... sheep? All of them piled to a height, I would guess, of a couple inches. A faint draft stirred the dust just beyond the clear zone, causing motes to dance lazily in the pale light filtering through the grime on the weirdly unbroken window. Dust, mold, and mystery bones. It¡¯s like a bad episode of ¡®Survivor: Hospital Edition¡¯, I thought to myself. And the hits just kept coming. Am I naked? Yes... well, no... can these little wisps of rotted fabric even count as clothes? I am definitely barefoot. The tattered remains of what might have once been a hospital gown clung to my emaciated body in shreds. Of course, the world ends, and I¡¯m stuck in a hospital gown that barely counts as clothing. Classic. P.S., don¡¯t freak out! "Okay Luke, you need to get your ass moving before you shut down from shock," I whispered to myself. I needed to get the hell out of here before whatever put those bones in room came back and my bones were added to the pile! I slowly slid to the edge of the old hospital bed and, with as much care as my weakened muscles could stand, I slowly lowered myself to the floor, carefully brushing my feet side to side, making a safe place to plant my feet. Just as I added weight to my legs, the table finally gave up its fight against gravity and slumped into a pile. I wasn¡¯t quite ready and I teetered a bit, my weak leg muscles screaming in protest, before my balance stabilized. I slowly stretched my back, coming to my full 6¡¯ 2¡± height. Taking a deep breath, I was overcome by a fit of coughing. Too much dust! Recovering, I slowly took calming breaths till I felt a bit stronger. I then slowly picked my way through the bones, dust, and debris to the doorframe. Of course, the door was off its hinges. The decayed remains of a hollow-core door lay on the floor of the hallway. Outside the doorframe was what you would think of if someone said, ¡°hospital hallway,¡± or more correctly, ¡°abandoned hospital hallway.¡± The walls were lined with faded, peeling paint, and old medical posters hung askew, their messages long forgotten. A row of shattered fluorescent lights that, in times past, would have lit the hallway, now hung dark, what little light there was that came from the open doorways, cast a sickly green hue that made the deep shadows dance unnervingly. Left or right, I asked myself, Ignoring the other doors that lined the sides of the hallway. Both looked similar as each ended in T intersections. The faint smell of mildew and something far less pleasant permeated the air, and the occasional drip of water echoed down the corridor, punctuating the eerie silence. Mentally flipping a coin, I started heading left. At the left side T intersection was another short hallway. To the left, was a door with a sign above that read ¡°Recovery,¡± and to the right, was a door with a sign that read ¡°Lobby.¡± Lobby it is, I thought to myself and I pushed against the door that had, against all odds, remained on its hinges. The door didn¡¯t want to open so I pushed harder. Well, I tried to push harder but in my weakened state, I¡¯m not sure how much additional pressure I was actual able to apply. In a few minutes though, it started to open. It only opened about a quarter of the way before it stopped with such finality that instead of trying to get it to open further, I just squeezed through the opening. The lobby was comprised of a waiting area filled with broken chairs, half the ceiling and a large round reception counter in the center of the room. Like everything else that I had seen here, the walls bore the scars of time, with large patches of mold creeping across them, and the floor was littered with debris. The remains of shattered glass bulbs, that had obviously fallen when their fixtures had crumbled way, crunched underfoot as I stepped inside. What had to have been a toppled potted plant lay in the corner, its ceramic pot cracked and its contents reduced to a mound of dry, compacted soil. On the wall above the counter was the name ¡°Longren Medical Center.¡± Longren Medical... memories started to flood in, and I staggered a bit, having to lean up against the door I had just squeezed through... but those thoughts were soon derailed as text filled my vision: SYSTEM RECONFIGURATION COMPLETE Chapter 2: The Last Day As usual, the parking lot for Athena Nanotechnologies was almost full, and it took me a good five minutes cruising the lot to find an empty space. I had even tried to arrive a bit early today, ¡°tried¡± being the operative word. Random minor setbacks and heavier-than-normal traffic put an end to that goal. After shutting off the engine, I grabbed my ID and backpack. With my employee badge on a lanyard around my neck, I entered the three-story building, heading for my office. My office! It was not a cubicle for me anymore, and all it cost was two years of my life, a failed relationship, and twenty extra pounds due to lack of exercise. The familiar hum of the bustling office greeted me as I made my way through the maze of cubicles. Colleagues were already immersed in their morning routines, tapping away at keyboards, sipping coffee, and murmuring into headsets. The air was thick with the mingling scents of freshly brewed coffee and the faint ozone of powered-up machines. Sunlight streamed in through the wide office windows, casting long streaks of warmth across the carpeted floor and illuminating the subtle haze of activity. I nodded at a few familiar faces, their expressions a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled envy. They knew what was happening today. I sat my backpack on my desk and hung my baseball cap on a hook I had installed on the wall. Not many in Silicon Valley wore seed company caps, but it was an affectation I got from my father, and it just became... part of my personality. Even when I got unmercifully teased in college and even got the nickname "Farmer Dan," I continued to wear my DEKALB cap. Why Dan? I guess it sounded better than Farmer Lucas or Farmer Luke. Lucas McLaughlin, or more exact, Lucas Alexander McLaughlin. Only an Episcopalian Iowa farm family would saddle a child with a name like that. Welcome to my life, ha! I sank into the way-too-comfortable desk chair and pulled myself to the desk. Slipping out my laptop, I started looking over the diagrams for what seemed like the thousandth time. Athena was at the forefront of the nanotech wave. The corporation had its fingers in just about every branch of technology that nanotech was infiltrating. It had already vastly expanded the power of information technology and we had just last year released nano-scale memory that allowed hundreds of terabytes on a single chip. The latest versions of our nanites even had vast amounts of memory. Each tiny little nanite had an AI many orders of magnitude more powerful that the original Large Language Model AIs, like ChatGPT. Even though this was a simple out-patient procedure, I would be spending at least the next two weeks at the nanite lab across town. After over 20 temporary medical trials, had shown the power of a brain implant nanite programmer/controller, I had pulled some strings, and I was going to receive the first permanent nanite controller implant. And it was going to happen today! That was why I had wanted to get into the office early today, to clean up that little last bit of paperwork before I had to drive to the Longren Medical Center where an Athena contracted medical staff would laboriously implant the tiny seed that would expand into the most powerful nanite interface the world had yet seen. Then, starting tomorrow, I get to stare into the sealed, specially engineered glass that contained the most advanced version of nanite that amazing minds at Athena could conceive. I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in thinking what I could get those little buggers to create for me. But check-in was at 2 PM, and I had an inbox to empty. The morning passed in a blur. I reviewed reports, answered emails, and signed off on several projects. The usual humdrum of office life felt surreal, knowing that in a few hours, I¡¯d be undergoing a procedure that could change everything. To say that I was excited would be a vast understatement.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. As I shut off the light and locked up my office though, I was a bit conflicted. I had worked through the morning tying up as many of the loose ends as I could so that during my absence hopefully only a few things would be dropped on the floor. What I had expected never happened. I expected calls from the upper floor. I expected lots of calls from the upper floor. I assumed I would be flooded with calls from VPs, Executive Directors, or even a call from the board. I had even planned on shutting down all communication because I expected to be inundated with last minute check-ins and atta boys. Hey, I may just be a director, but I was stepping up and playing guinea pig for the company. Didn¡¯t that deserve some recognition? I Guess not. I even tried calling my boss just to see if everything was alright but his secretary told me that all of upper management had gone quiet. Oh well, I thought. I was doing this for me, not for them anyway. Finishing my last email, I shut down the system and sat back in my still way-too-comfy chair and stretched. Standing up I grabbed my stuff and placed my Dekalb hat on my head and stepped out of my office for the first time today. I feeling that everyone was just a little too busy washed through me. If it had been any other day, I would have been in the isles trying to determine what was wrong and helping organize the response to the problem. Today though, I let the feeling of pending doom just wash through me. Not my problem today, I told myself. The drive to the medical center was uneventful, and I breezed through the door a good fifteen minutes before I was scheduled to check in. My mom would be so proud. I smiled at the thought. She aways said, ¡°If you are not fifteen minutes early, you are late.¡± The sterile smell of antiseptic hit me as soon as I entered, a stark contrast to the buzzing office atmosphere. Anyone who has had a minor medical procedure knows exactly what happened next. Paperwork, and unfortunately, because I would have to go under general anesthesia, I had to change into one of those stupid tie-in-the-back medical gowns. The fabric was cold against my skin, and I couldn¡¯t help but feel vulnerable and exposed. As I sat in the waiting area, I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being watched. The Athena contracted nurses and doctors walked by, glancing at me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. This was, after all, a groundbreaking procedure. A few of them whispered among themselves, and I caught bits and pieces of their conversation. ¡°That¡¯s him, the first permanent implant recipient¡­¡±, one nurse whispered. Another nurse shushed the first nurse muttering something about an NDA and if she wanted to wind up broke. Trying to drown out the murmurs, I focused on the TV mounted on the wall, broadcasting a news segment about a recent tech innovation. Ironically, it was about nanotechnology making waves in the medical field. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on me. Finally, a nurse called my name. Taking a deep breath, I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. This was it, the moment I had been preparing for, the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. I followed the nurse down a corridor, the walls lined with motivational posters and medical diagrams, until we reached a room marked "Pre-Op." The pre-op room was cold and sterile, the air heavy with the scent of disinfectant. A team of doctors and nurses were already waiting, their faces masked but their eyes filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. I climbed onto the table, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing. Dr. Anderson, the lead surgeon, approached me, her eyes kind and reassuring. "Mr. McLaughlin, we¡¯re ready to begin. Are you?" I nodded, trying to steady my voice. "Yeah, let¡¯s do this." She smiled beneath her mask. "Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯re in good hands." As the anesthesiologist prepped the IV, I lay back and stared up at the bright lights overhead. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts; what if something went wrong? What if this didn¡¯t work? But beneath the fear was a flicker of hope. This could be the start of something incredible. Voices from the corner of the room caught my attention. ¡°Did you hear about the accidental nanite release? They say it came from Athena. Figures they¡¯d mess something up.¡± Another voice responded with a hint of sympathy. ¡°Yeah, poor bastard. Hope he knows what he¡¯s getting into.¡± The last thing I remembered was the soft hiss of the anesthetic and Dr. Anderson¡¯s voice, calm and reassuring. "Just breathe easy, Lucas. When you wake up, everything will be different." And then, darkness. Chapter 3: SYSTEM Awakening SYSTEM RECONFIGURATION COMPLETE I blinked, struggling to process the glowing words hovering in my vision. They were bright and sharp, as if etched directly onto my retinas. "What the..." I muttered, still a bit groggy and now ¡­ disoriented. The text dissolved, replaced by another message. WELCOME TO THE QI CULTIVATION SYSTEM "QI Cultivation SYSTEM?" My voice betrayed a mix of confusion and curiosity. ¡°What the hell is QI?¡± This was far from the diagnostic interface I had expected from the nanite controller implant. Before I could make sense of it, the words were again replaced, but this time with what looked like a classic RPG status screen. Dazed, I stumbled to an all-metal chair that seemed sturdy enough to hold my weight and sat down. decided to work through this bizarre situation. I needed to know that whatever the operating system running my controller implant had not been replaced with the nanotech version of a virus. STATUS SCREEN I stared at the screen, my thoughts racing. This was like something out of a video game, but it felt unnervingly real. Who the hell messed with my beautiful nanite controller, I thought. Tentatively, I mentally reached out, as if lifting a metaphysical hand, and the screen responded, sections highlighting as I navigated it like a digital interface. At least the controller is responding to my mental cues, like we designed it. But this menu has got to be joke" I muttered to the empty room. The SYSTEM, almost as if reading my frustration, offered more information. THE QI-CULTIVATION SYSTEM is designed to assist you in mastering QI control through structured cultivation techniques. Your progress will be tracked and updated in real-time. Begin your CULTIVATOR journey by completing the initial tutorial tasks. What followed was a short list of actions that could be taken. I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. ¡°How did this happen? Was the Athena mainframe hacked? I was expecting the Athena bootup diagnostics or maybe the live dashboard data streams. Not... this ¡­ QI crap!¡± I¡¯ve just awoke in Fallout hospital, I look like a survivor from Birkenau, and it just came to my attention that the prototype brain implant I received has had it¡¯s OS completely overwritten. Am I really going to satisfy my curiosity and work through what looks like an RPG game tutorial instead of working on the five Physiological Needs to survive: Food, water, clothing, sleep, and shelter, I asked myself? Yes, my curiosity won out. I quickly scanned to waiting room. I¡¯ve actually coded in worse conditions than this, I thought to myself as I mentally selected the first task. INITIAL TASK: Familiarize yourself with the interface. Learn to access and navigate your status screen and skills menu.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. The status screen dissolved into a sleek, holographic menu. Its design blended futuristic aesthetics with elements of a classic game interface. MENU "At least there isn¡¯t any cheesy background music I need to mute," I murmured. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what¡¯s in here,¡± and I reopened the Status option. The stat block reappeared and this time I noticed the small info popup buttons next to each attribute. Curious, I ¡°hovered¡± over each one, and a detailed description appeared. I nodded, grudgingly. ¡°Okay, this is complex and not at all what I expected. Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s useful.¡± I quickly looked at the Skills menu and found that there were three options: I expanded the QI Manipulation (Basic) option and saw: I closed the Skills menu and selected Settings. "I feel like I¡¯ve been dropped into a bad fantasy novel," I grumbled. This cannot be happening, I thought. I must be still asleep. Right, this is just my confused brain due to the general anesthesia. Even though I was 50% sure this was all a drug induced dream, I still sighed in relief when I saw that I had still access to the SYSTEM¡¯s integrated development environment. Completing the initial task of exploring some of the menu SYSTEM, a message flashed before me. TASK COMPLETED: +10 XP 10xp! Whee! Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the SYSTEM Logs. LOG SYSTEM ACCESS ¡­ "Well, that explains the weird interface," I muttered. ¡°Lucky me. Upgraded for years by random people and hopefully not by the AI.¡± Then I notice the timestamps. Dear Lord! I thought. If the timestamps were correct, those damn nanites turned me into a modern day version of Rip Van Winkle! 213 Years! My Mom, my Dad ... gone. Hell, everyone that I have ever known is gone, as well as there damn grandkids! I sat and stared out into space for a few minutes, getting my pounding heart to stop racing. ¡­ and then a random thought entered my stream of consciousness, Hey! I don¡¯t have to go to work tomorrow! I noticed that the logs also showed that the SYSTEM was monitoring my vitals. The Energy intake kind of creeped me out though. It¡¯s not like I was eating anything while I was out. Then another thought hit me. All those bones ¡­ Could the nanites have been feeding me? Shudder. After a minute, I closed the logs. My mind was filled with disturbing thoughts. I had to force my thoughts onto a different track or I would just sit here paralized. I focused on the one weird word that kept popping up ¨C QI. Curious, I typed into the AI prompt: ¡°What IS QI?¡± The response was immediate: QI is the SYSTEM¡¯s name for general-use nanites that are everywhere, and your personalized QI that is your stored reserve. I sighed. ¡°So, QI is just free-floating nanites and my personal stash. Stupid xianxia rebranding. Who¡¯s the fanboy that thought this was a good idea?¡± Wait, I thought. What is personalized QI? The AI responded with, Personalized QI is QI that has be reprogrammed or ¡°attenuated¡± to your internal SYSTEM for immediate use. It is gathered via cultivation, either passively or actively. I really knew that I had to get out of this place. There was no food, no water and even the shelter it provided was questionable. I knew it in my bones, but the programmer in me just had to dig a little deeper. I opened the SYSTEM Integrated Development Environment menu option. First things first. That stupid leveling SYSTEM has got to go. Chapter 4: Developer’s Dilemma I pulled up the SYSTEM¡¯s Integrated Development Environment, eager to dive into the SYSTEM¡¯s OS. As the lead architect and developer for most of its core before my promotion to management, I knew its ins and outs better than anyone. Or so I thought. The moment the interface finished loading, my blood started to boil. "What the hell is this?" I growled, scrolling through the chaos on the screen. Each line of code was like a slap in the face. This wasn¡¯t my design. This wasn¡¯t a design at all! What I saw was a Frankenstein¡¯s monster of programming¡ªmessy, inefficient, and painfully amateurish. Functions duplicated without reason, poorly named variables, and comments so irrelevant they might as well have been lorem ipsum. My hands clenched into fists as I muttered, "Who let a toddler with a keyboard loose in here?" Then I remembered what my code looked like when I first started out in the industry. A, B, and C were great variable names, and X, Y, and Z were fantastic loop iterators. This code has a lot of similarities to my code when I was in school. Could this system really have been maintained and expanded by amateurs, I wondered? The sleek, modular architecture I¡¯d painstakingly built had been drowned in a sea of junk code. The number of source code files had to be in the hundreds of thousands! Gone were the clean, efficient algorithms. Instead, layers of unnecessary complexity bogged down the SYSTEM, making even the simplest changes a slog. My initial plan was simple: remove that ridiculous leveling system and restore the full functionality of the nanite controller, sorry¡­ QI controller. But as I delved deeper, I realized that wouldn¡¯t cut it. This mess needed a complete overhaul. Weeks, months, maybe even years of work loomed ahead of me. "This is going to be a brownfield maintenance hell," I groaned, leaning back in frustration. "If I ever meet the cultivator fanboy responsible for this, I¡¯m sending them every bug report ever written." I took a deep breath, willing myself to focus. "Alright, Luke, you¡¯ve done worse. It¡¯s just code. You¡¯ve untangled spaghetti before." The interface beeped, interrupting my pep talk. A new message appeared in my view: NEW TASK UNLOCKED: Redesign the QI-Cultivation SYSTEM to eliminate redundant code and improve overall efficiency. I stared at it for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh. "Thanks, SYSTEM. Real insightful." Reluctantly, I shut down the developer environment. Much as I wanted to start cleaning up the codebase, survival came first. I had the SYSTEM display a map showing the safe corridor through the wild nanites¡­ ARRGGG¡­ QI. It was time to prioritize¡ªshelter, water, food¡ªthe fundamentals. NEW TASK UNLOCKED: Escape the wild QI zone. A detailed map blinked to life floating before my eyes, highlighting a path through the hospital and into an area marked as relatively clear of the rogue nanites. "Relatively" being the operative word. It still was overflowing with them, just not enough, according to the SYSTEM, that they wouldn¡¯t immediately melt my face off. I just couldn¡¯t stay here any longer. I needed supplies. My stomach growled loudly, as if echoing my thoughts. "Alright, food first. Shelter can wait¡ªbut only a little."You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I turned to my surroundings. The hospital loomed like a ghost of its former self, every corner shrouded in decay and shadows. The walls were streaked with long-dried water stains, and patches of mold spread like dark bruises. I tread carefully, avoiding debris that littered the floors. Shattered glass, twisted metal, and fragments of plaster crunched softly underfoot as I moved. Occasionally, I¡¯d catch a glimpse of the world outside through oddly unbroken windows¡ªa gray, oppressive landscape scarred by the wild QI zone. The air was thick, carrying a stale, metallic tang that made my nose wrinkle. Each step seemed to echo unnaturally in the silence, as if the building itself was listening. My breathing felt loud, almost intrusive, as I made my way through the corridors, the glowing map in my vision guiding me. "Focus, Luke," I muttered to myself. "Shelter, water, food. The code can wait." Passing through a set of double doors, I entered what might have once been a supply room. The shelves were mostly empty, save for a few scattered medical supplies that had long since expired. Still, I searched carefully, hoping for anything useful. A battered first-aid kit caught my eye, and I grabbed it. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was a start. As I stepped back into the corridor, I heard a faint sound¡ªa soft scraping, almost imperceptible. My heart raced as I froze, straining to pinpoint the source. The glow of the map provided little comfort against the encroaching darkness. The sound grew louder, closer, and I tightened my grip on the first-aid kit, ready to swing it if necessary. A shadow darted across the far end of the hallway, and I exhaled sharply. "Just a rat," I whispered, trying to calm my nerves. "Probably." Steeling myself, I continued toward the marked exit. The route took me through a maintenance area, where rusted pipes and defunct machinery lined the walls. The air here was damp and carried a faint sulfuric odor, making me gag. The SYSTEM chimed, warning me of elevated levels of airborne wild nanites. I quickened my pace, my eyes darting to the map for reassurance. Finally, I reached a short stairwell leading to a loading dock. The metal steps groaned under my weight, their surface slick with grime. At the bottom, the map directed me across the dark floor of the loading dock toward an exit door on the far wall. I slowly picked my way across the floor, trying as best as possible to avoid all the bits of rusted metal I could only half see on the floor. Just what I need is lockjaw on top of everything else, I thought. Eventually I worked my way to the exit. I paused near the entrance, taking a moment to steady my breathing. The SYSTEM displayed a final notification: WARNING: You are nearing the edge of the safe corridor. Proceed with caution. I adjusted the ragged remains of my hospital gown and stepped through the half rusted out security door, emerging into the open. The bright sunlight was blinding after the dim interior, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes. The landscape before me was surreal, an apocalyptic blend of twisted nature and technology gone awry. Metallic overgrown foliage competed with biologically twisted plants for dominance; their forms blurred by the shimmering haze of wild nanites in the air. For the first time, I truly understood the scale of the world I¡¯d awakened to. It was alien and hostile, yet oddly beautiful. A spark of determination flared within me. This was a world in desperate need of repair, and I was a developer with a SYSTEM to fix. I passed through the entry door and stepped out into the alien landscape. The bright sun made me squint and I reflexively tipped my head forward so my non-existent hat brim could shield my eyes from the sun. Damn, I am also so going to miss my DEKALB hat! Chapter 5: The Twisted Path The city streets, once bustling with life, were now a surreal blend of beauty and terror, a twisted mockery of their former selves. Skyscrapers loomed like skeletal giants, their metal frames bent and warped into strange, organic shapes. The wild nanites had reshaped the world into their own alien vision, a masterpiece of chaotic artistry. Vines with bioluminescent leaves coiled around the remains of streetlights, their shifting glow casting eerie shadows over the cracked concrete below. The air was alive with scents and sensations. A sharp tang of ozone clung to the atmosphere, mixed with the earthy aroma of moss and damp soil. Beneath it all, there was an unnatural undertone, a faint chemical smell that tickled the back of my throat. The humidity pressed against my skin, heavy and sticky, as if the air itself were infused with the nanites¡¯ restless energy. Each breath carried a metallic taste, a reminder that I was walking through a landscape utterly transformed by their influence. ¡°What the hell happened here?¡± I muttered, my voice swallowed by the oppressive silence. The ground beneath my feet was a patchwork of cracked pavement and glowing, pulsing veins of light. Each step I took sent ripples through the luminous patterns, as though the city itself were alive and reacting to my presence. Patches of the pavement felt warm, almost soft, as if the nanites had partially liquefied the materials. In other places, jagged shards of crystalline growths jutted out, their edges catching the faint glow and refracting it into brilliant prismatic colors. The trees¡ªif they could still be called that¡ªwere grotesque hybrids of nature and machinery. Their bark gleamed like polished metal, cold and unyielding to the touch, while their branches wove together in impossible geometries, draped with strands of glowing moss. A faint hum emanated from the flora, a sound that resonated deep in my chest, as though the entire landscape was vibrating at some alien frequency. When I brushed against one of the moss-covered branches, it felt damp and rubbery, leaving a faint residue on my fingers that glowed softly before fading. I paused at the sight of an unbroken shop window, its glass somehow untouched by the chaos that had consumed the rest of the building. The panes shimmered with an iridescent sheen, reflecting the bioluminescent plants around me in shifting waves of color. Despite the destruction surrounding it, the glass was smooth and cool under my hand, a small, stubborn fragment of the old world that had resisted the nanites¡¯ touch. ¡°Interesting,¡± I murmured. The nanites had been designed to be unable to escape from specially engineered glass. That normal glass could also resist them was an unexpected comfort in an otherwise alien world. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, sharp and relentless. My mouth felt dry despite the damp air, and my legs ached from hours of walking. Shelter and water were critical, but food had claimed the top spot on my list. My eyes scanned the area, seeking anything remotely edible among the glowing, mutated foliage. The plants around me, while beautiful, exuded a faintly medicinal scent that warned me against attempting to eat them. As I turned a corner, movement ahead caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat as a creature emerged from the underbrush. It was a sheep¡ªor at least, it had been once.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. The animal¡¯s wool shimmered like liquid silver, catching the faint light in mesmerizing waves. Patches of its coat pulsated with an otherworldly glow, the light shifting between shades of purple and green. Its eyes, unnaturally large and luminous, locked onto mine with an unsettling intelligence. This wasn¡¯t just a sheep; it was something new, something born of the wild nanites¡¯ meddling. ¡°A mutant sheep?¡± I said aloud, the absurdity of the words almost making me laugh. Growing up on a farm, I¡¯d dealt with my fair share of livestock. Sheep, for all their stupidity, had always been harmless. This one, however, radiated an air of quiet menace. The sheep tilted its head, its glowing eyes narrowing. A low hum filled the air, like the sound of a high-voltage power line, and the hairs on my arms stood on end. The faint smell of ozone grew stronger, sharp and acrid, as the creature¡¯s wool flared with a purplish light. Before I could react, it moved. Fast. Way too fast for a sheep. One moment it was standing still, and the next it was charging, its hooves striking the ground with unnatural force. The air around it seemed to warp, a faint shimmer surrounding its body like a heat haze. I threw myself to the side, the ground scraping against my palms as I landed hard on the cracked pavement. The sheep¡¯s hooves clattered past, leaving faint scorch marks where they struck the ground. The energy field surrounding it buzzed audibly, a sharp, staccato crackling that set my teeth on edge. ¡°Alright, Shaun,¡± I muttered, scrambling to my feet. ¡°You want to play rough? Let¡¯s see how you handle this.¡± I quickly called up the SYSTEM menu, my fingers trembling slightly as I mentally selected Energy Pulse (Minor). The nanites within me responded immediately, gathering in my right fist. A strange tingling sensation spread up my arm, like pins and needles but deeper, almost reaching my bones. The energy felt hot and alive, a pulsing force that made my skin prickle. The sheep charged again, its movements a blur. My hand tingled as the energy reached its peak, and I swung with all my might, releasing the pulse just as my fist connected with the creature¡¯s head. The impact was explosive. A visible shockwave rippled through the air, accompanied by a burst of light so bright it left spots in my vision. The ground beneath my feet cracked, small chunks of pavement flying outward from the force. ¡°Wow!¡± I shouted. If this had been a normal sheep, it would have exploded into a shower of meaty chunks. The sheer force of the blow shocked even me, the vibrations reverberating up my arm and leaving it momentarily numb. Yet, the mutant sheep only stumbled backward, its glowing wool flaring violently before dimming. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. The sheep let out a distorted bleat, a sound that was more mechanical than organic, and wavered on its legs. How had it survived that? A hit like that should have obliterated anything even remotely organic. I¡¯ve seen what happens with an 18-wheeler hits a deer. This seemed like it should have been similar. My mind reeled at the implications of what I¡¯d just witnessed. With a final, glitchy cry, the creature turned and retreated into the underbrush, its luminous form fading into the distance. Breathing heavily, I stood frozen for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline dulled my hunger, if only briefly, and a strange exhilaration coursed through me. This world¡ªtwisted and dangerous as it was¡ªwas unlike anything I¡¯d ever known. And somehow, that both terrified and thrilled me. ENEMY DEFEATED: +25 XP ¡°Shut up, SYSTEM,¡± I muttered, shaking my head. I wasn¡¯t here to level up; I was here to survive. I adjusted the makeshift rags that passed for clothing and resumed my trek, the glowing map in my vision guiding me forward. Each step through the alien cityscape revealed new marvels and horrors, a constant reminder that I was a stranger in a strange land. Yet, as daunting as it all seemed, a part of me couldn¡¯t help but feel a spark of excitement. Whatever lay ahead, I was determined to face it head-on. Chapter 6: Frogs à la QI The wild nanite zone began to thin, the surreal alien beauty of the twisted cityscape giving way to patches of untouched wilderness and remnants of the pre-cultivation era. The towering, melted ruins of skyscrapers transitioned to crumbling highways, their surfaces cracked and veined with vibrant green moss. Rusting streetlights leaned at odd angles, their once-proud frames now twisted and draped with vines that glowed faintly in the dim light. Broken fences jutted out of overgrown fields, and the remains of old-world cars lay scattered like forgotten toys, their metal husks half-swallowed by the earth. TASK COMPLETED: +20 XP I sighed again as I dismissed the SYSTEM message. That leveling SYSTEM really needs to die a quick death. Another message popped up. NEW TASK UNLOCKED: Consume adequate amounts of food and water. I sighed. What would I do without you, SYSTEM? I followed the SYSTEM¡¯s glowing map, my senses remained on high alert. Here, at the edge of the wild zone, the terrain shifted again. The trees slowly reclaimed their health green foliage and the plants soon started resembling the greenery that I was accustomed to. The air smelled different here, fresher ... no longer tinged with a metallic tang. A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the faint sound of water trickling somewhere nearby. As I crested the next hill, a flash of silver in the little valley bellow alerted me to the possibility that I had just found water. Picking up my pace, I half quickly walked and half stumbled down the far slope of the hill. If that was water, I¡¯m saved, I thought. The trees at the bottom of the hill were thicker and a stout undergrowth had grown between them. Gingerly I wiggled my way through the bushes and as I emerged on the other side, I nearly fell down the short bank to the small stream that flowed from right to left. Water! Thank God! I fell to my knees and scooped up a mouthful of water with my hands. I raised it to my parched lips and greedily drank that titbit of water. At least half either dribbled between my fingers or down my chin, but I didn¡¯t care. It tasted amazing. I spent the next few minutes doing nothing but rhythmically scooping up water and drinking. As my thirst faded, I started to actually pay attention to my surroundings. A fast-running stream flowed in this little valley between the hills. A small vertical dirt bank on both sides enclosed the stream. The water was clear, about a foot deep and the bottom was lined with rocks worn round by the constant water flow. And just like all the creeks in Iowa around the farm where I grew up, in between the bank and the water¡¯s edge was a small strip of muddy dirt on which grass and reeds were growing. If I remembered correctly (and 10th grade biology was a LONG time ago) this is the perfect place to find frogs! In my mind that equaled something else as well ¡­ food! So, I started walking upstream and sure enough; after only walking a few feet, my presence had the expected results. Frogs started to jump from their places of hiding in the grass. They made funny splashing noises as they plopped into the water. I thought, Now, if my fifteen-year-old self could catch these for biology class, I should be able to as well, so I set myself the task of catching dinner. What seemed like about ten minutes later, I was covered in mud as well as the proud owner of four frogs. I didn¡¯t have a knife or anything that I could use to humanly put the amphibians out of their misery.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Needs must when the devil drives, I mused as I held the poor creatures by their back legs and bashed them against the trunk of a tree. With a semi-sharp rock I found at the edge of the stream, I hacked at the hip joint and removed the back legs from the four frogs. I had initially planned on eating them raw, but a thought entered my mind and I opened up the SYSTEM menu. Mentally I selected Structural Alteration (Low-Grade). The SYSTEM responded with what looked like a 3d grid overlay. As I focused on various things in my vicinity, the grid wrapped around that item and would glow a brighter green. I focused on a frog leg and mentally selected it. A new menu popped up in my vision. It was a LARGE menu and It included just about every kind of minor alteration you could think to do to an item; from enlarging, shrinking, elongating to changing its color. I could even strengthen or weaken the frog leg, but the alteration that I was hoping was there: Alter Temperature. Now I had a plan. Closing the SYSTEM, I started looking for I rather large and flat rock I could you as my ¡°pan¡±. Eventually I found a good candidate and started to pry it out of the floor of the stream. I wormed my fingers under the edge of the rock and I slowly rocked it back and forth until mud underneath gave way and the rock came up from the streambed. I tossed it up the embankment onto the grass. I seemed much easier than it should have been. Remember to check my stats screen when I am done, I thought. I quickly picked up my soon-to-be lunch and climbed back up the bank of the stream. Squatting besides the rock I quickly noticed that the bottom was uneven and just setting on the grass, the flat top was tilted to one side. I looked around and quickly grabbed a few small stones lying around and jammed them under the drooping corner bring it flat. I arranged the frog legs on the stone and quickly jumped back into the SYSTEM. After picking Structural Alteration (Low-Grade), I selected the frog legs and then the alteration type: Alter Temperature. Please select desired temperature in Celsius. Oh, crap. Get this wrong and I either have still raw meat or extra crispy. What is the formula to convert Fahrenheit to Celsius again? I wondered. I know it is was times 9 and divide by 5 or the reverse to go from Fahrenheit to Celsius and you need to subtract 32. I started working through the problem to figure out the correct formula and ¡­ wait, I must really be loopy. Why don¡¯t I just let the AI do it? I opened up the SYSTEM AI prompt and asked, ¡°Please increase the temperature of the selected frog legs to 425 degrees Fahrenheit and keep it there for 20 minutes.¡± The AI responded with a ¡°Affirmative¡± and the frog legs started to sizzle. Twenty minutes later, I was munching on some of the best tasting bad, dry chewy food I had ever had. I think QI cooking may not be the best way to prepare frog legs but at least they were not raw. TASK COMPLETED: +20 XP It had been late in the afternoon when I first stumbled upon the little stream but buy the time I had finally figured out how to catch and cook my meal, it was getting toward twilight. Remembering Shaun the sheep, I decided that it would been much safer if I would climb a tree and sleep in the crook of a large branch. Mutant squirrels seemed to me much easier to deal with than Shaun. As I settled into my makeshift uncomfortable elevated bed, I brought up my stat screen. Name: Lucas McLaughlin Level: 1 Cultivation Rank: Initiate Health: 27/100 Energy (QI): 12/100 Strength: 7 (Currently: 3 Due to Low Health) Agility: 7 (Currently: 3 Due to Low Health) Intelligence: 10 Experience: 75 QI Control Level: Initiate I was right, my strength had risen. So had a number of other things. I guess that food and water really did help, in more ways than one! Now, for the first time, I had some time where nothing else was pressing. Well, that was not strictly true, I was bone tired and need my rest, but I had some time before I needed to sleep. So, I switched to the AI prompt and entered: What pre-collapse information sources are available to you? The AI quickly responded with: The entire nanite network contains multiple complete copies of the internet. 38.7 percent of the internet has been archived in the local nanite network, the download prioritized English and formal works. Wow! The entire internet has been archived! Great! Then a stray thought entered my mind, do you think I can find the web novels I¡¯d been reading off-and-on? I didn¡¯t want to imagine a future where I couldn¡¯t read about Jason Asano. Since I doubted even Shirtaloon could publish during an apocalypse, I could at least reread the novels. I stopped my runaway thoughts and entered, Please find news related to nanites starting the day I had my procedure. The AI responded by filling my vision with links to various news articles and I started to read. Chapter 7: How the Mighty Fall I adjusted himself in the crook of the tree, trying to find a position that didn¡¯t make my back scream. The SYSTEM¡¯s AI overlay filled my vision with curated links to archived news reports, blog entries, and forum threads. Even now, over 200 years later, the remnants of human digital history held the answers I needed. Taking a deep breath, I selected the first link, and let the story unfold. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Unprecedented Nanite Breach at Athena Nanotechnologies" Global News Network, March 12, 2137 The article began with a shaky video: a camera captured the Athena Nanotechnologies headquarters in chaos. People in lab coats and suits scrambled through corridors as alarms blared in the background. The narrator¡¯s voice was calm, almost clinical: ¡°Early this morning, a catastrophic breach occurred at Athena Nanotechnologies, resulting in the unintentional release of an experimental class of self-replicating nanites. Initial reports suggest the breach originated in their core research facility in Palo Alto.¡± I winced. Of course, it¡¯d be Athena. The footage cut to a press conference. Athena¡¯s CEO, Richard Tanaka, stood before a row of microphones, his face pale and taut. ¡°Let me assure everyone that we are doing everything in our power to contain this event. The nanites were designed with failsafes to prevent uncontrolled replication. However¡­¡± He paused, visibly swallowing. ¡°It appears that for the escaped nanites, these failsafes were¡­ overridden by external factors.¡± I groaned. Translation: Someone hacked us. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "The First Cities Fall" World Times, March 14, 2137 The next news video detailed the spread. The wild nanites, freed from Athena¡¯s lab, began to proliferate quickly, seemingly to move at the speed of the wind. By the time I had finished my procedure, the entire city had been overtaken. No wonder I was left. Not only was there chaos but I was also affiliated with Athena, I thought. Athena had shared its designs with the world in an attempt to find a way to stop them. Unfortunately, some of the nanites (the ones causing all the havoc) had stopped responding to commands. It was if the ability to communicate with them had been removed from their operating system. Plus, the non-communicative nanites seemed to have interesting effects on their surroundings. Car engines seemed to stop working, as well as electronics. Why? I asked myself. None of that behavior was coded into the nanites.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Great! So, we were hacked and it had to be an inside job. Who else could have understood enough of the OS to alter it to that extent? One eyewitness account read like a dystopian novel: "I saw it with my own eyes. On the street ... the cars ... the phones. It was like an invisible wind blew and wherever it touched, stuff just stopped working. And the air, it tasted like copper." By the end of the video, entire neighborhoods had been cordoned off as "Wild Zones." Attempts to quarantine the nanites were largely ineffective. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Blame and Backlash" Blogosphere Compilation, March 15-20, 2137 I skimmed through snippets of anger and despair. Governments pointed fingers at Athena, accusing them of negligence. Athena, in turn, at first blamed rogue actors for exploiting vulnerabilities in their security. Citizens took to the streets in protest¡ªsome demanding justice, others looting for survival. One thread caught my attention: "This isn¡¯t just Athena¡¯s fault. Every major tech company has been playing with fire. We¡¯ve been warning about this for years! Autonomous systems, nanite swarms, AI¡ªthis was bound to happen." My jaw tightened. I¡¯d read similar opinions even before the collapse and I had dismissed them as paranoia. Turns out they were right. But then, it got worse. Personally ... much worse. The management, needing a scapegoat, pinned the entire debacle on the one person that was fundamental in developing the software side of Athena¡¯s nanites. The person that had even stepped up to have the first permanent brain implant to control the nanites. The person that since he was conveniently dead, could have everything pinned on him. Me. And that is how I found out that I had become the world''s personification of evil. The number one enemy of the entire planet. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "The Great Fragmentation" Historical Review, Decades Later The SYSTEM¡¯s AI offered a summary of the final days: By late 2137, the world had splintered. National governments dissolved as wild nanites made infrastructure and communication networks inoperable. Some regions became uninhabitable. Survivors gathered in isolated enclaves, their survival hinging on their ability to adapt to a world overrun by nanite-driven chaos. Cultivators, the first of their kind, emerged during this time. People who seemingly could control the majority of the nanites. People who realized they could direct the nanites through mental techniques and meditation and they were hailed as saviors in a desperate, fragmented world. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, my mind racing. The collapse of civilization hadn¡¯t been the work of a single event but a cascade of failures¡ªhuman error, corporate greed, bad actors, and the unpredictable nature of advanced technology. "And now, not only am I blamed for all of this," I muttered to himself, "I¡¯m stuck cleaning up the mess. Lucky me." The SYSTEM chimed, offering a few new notifications: NEW TASK UNLOCKED: Clear your name. NEW TASK UNLOCKED: Determine who hacked the nanites. NEW TASK UNLOCKED: Determine why wild nanites cannot be contacted. My lips compressed into a tight line. "Alright, we will just have to see what¡¯s salvageable." It took a very long time for me to fall asleep. Chapter 8: Return to Civilization The sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting the natural landscape in hues of gold and orange. I remembered when this was all residential housing. Now, there was nothing left but some of the original landscaping and bits of broken pavement jutting up from the ground like bleached bones from a long dead leviathan. Two hundred years really had let nature take back the land. I spotted movement ahead. At first, I froze, my heart pounding as adrenaline surged through my malnourished body. I ducked behind what had probably been an immaculately trimmed box wood shrub before the catastrophe, my eyes straining to make out the figures silhouetted against the fiery sky. They moved with purpose, a small group of people armed with bows, crossbows, and a variety of crude hand weapons. Strapped to their backs were huge backpacks and their belts were festooned with pre-fall hand tools and what looked like salvaged mechanical parts. People. Real, living people. Relief flooded through me, but it was quickly followed by caution. People might mean danger. They hadn¡¯t spotted me yet, but it wouldn¡¯t be long. I stood up straight and stepped into the open, my hands raised in what I hoped was a universally non-threatening gesture. My ragged appearance: emaciated frame, tattered hospital gown, and bare feet caked in dirt should have appeared pitiable. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot,¡± I croaked, my voice hoarse from disuse. I had been mumbling to myself but this was the first time I had projected my voice in ¡­ ages. The thought made me chuckle silently. The group immediately halted, weapons rising in unison. A woman with a bow took a step forward, her arrow nocked and aimed at my chest. Thank heavens she had not actually drawn the arrow back yet. ¡°Who are you?¡± she demanded. Her voice was firm but not unkind. I noticed she had blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. ¡°Just¡­ someone trying to survive,¡± I said, keeping my voice calm. ¡°I mean you no harm.¡± They exchanged glances. A tall, broad-shouldered man lowered the massive crossbow he was holding and snorted. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like you¡¯re much of a threat,¡± he muttered. ¡°Darrin, he could be a cultivator!¡± the woman said sharply, not taking her eyes off me. She lowered her bow slightly but kept it ready. ¡°What are you doing out here stranger? You look half-dead.¡± ¡°Believe it or not, for some reason I woke up in an old building,¡± I explained. ¡°I¡¯ve been wandering ever since. Looking for food, water, anything to survive. I haven¡¯t seen another soul until now.¡± Her gaze softened marginally. She kind of shrugged with one shoulder and said, ¡°We¡¯ll see about that. Darrin, check him.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a pack. I don¡¯t have anything,¡± I said, gesturing to my threadbare appearance. ¡°What you see is what you get.¡± Darrin grunted and stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of a crude machete. He circled me cautiously before confirming, ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth. No weapons, no pack. Just this¡­¡± He grimaced and waved his arms up and down towards me as if to highlight the sorry state of my hospital gown. ¡°Alright,¡± the woman said, lowering her bow completely. ¡°I¡¯m Lena. This is Darrin, Tarek, Mara, and Jo.¡± She motioned to the others in turn. ¡°We¡¯re scavengers. What¡¯s your name?¡± I hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, ¡°Just somebody that is lost.¡± Lena raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t press. ¡°Fine. You look like you¡¯re about to keel over. If you¡¯re not dangerous, we¡¯ll take you back to the village. We¡¯ll let the elders figure out what to do with you. We are heading back now with our finds ¡­ but I¡¯m going to keep my eye on you.¡± My stomach growled audibly, making Darrin chuckle. ¡°And we will feed you too,¡± he said, swinging his pack off his shoulder. He rummaged through it and pulled out a bundle of rough homespun clothing. ¡°Here. Can¡¯t have you walking into the village looking like that, what would all the old ladies say? Put these on.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The clothing was coarse but sturdy: a simple shirt, trousers, and a belt that looked like it had been artfully put together from scraps of leather. Before, I would have had to pay a large portion of a paycheck for a handmade belt like that. I nodded my thanks, turning away to change. The group gave me space, but I could feel their eyes on me, assessing my every move. When I was dressed, Darrin handed me what looked like beef jerky and we started walking. I fell into step behind Lena and Darrin, with the others flanking me. I walked and chewed. They moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the terrain for threats. It wasn¡¯t long before my curiosity got the better of me. I swallowed a mouthful of this delicious jerky. ¡°You said that you guys are scavengers,¡± I began, my voice still raspy. ¡°What exactly are you looking for?¡± Lena glanced over her shoulder. ¡°Metal, mostly. Machine parts. Anything pre-fall that still works or can be fixed. It¡¯s valuable for the village¡¯s survival and for trade.¡± ¡°Pre-fall?¡± I asked, feigning ignorance. Darrin snorted. ¡°What rock have you been living under? Pre-fall!¡± he repeated louder as if I hadn¡¯t heard him, ¡°you know, before everything went to hell. Before the wild QI twisted the world.¡± I nodded to him, pretending to absorb the information. Turning back to Lena I asked, ¡°And you use or trade these parts? With who?¡± ¡°Other villages, mostly,¡± Mara said, her voice softer than the others. ¡°And we take some of the best metals to Ironhaven, but never the working parts. The other villages seem to need the same things we do. Whenever we have a surplus, we trade with them.¡± I was about to ask more when Lena suddenly raised a hand, motioning for us to stop. I froze in my tracks. ¡°What is it?¡± I whispered, my pulse quickening. She pointed to the bushes ahead and I followed her gaze. At first glance, it looked like a housecat, but as it emerged into view, the sheer size and musculature of the creature made it clear this was no ordinary feline. The animal¡¯s sleek coat shimmered with an unnatural iridescence, and its eyes glowed faintly in the dimming light. Its claws, extended as it stalked forward, glinted like polished steel. ¡°Spirit beast,¡± Darrin muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. The creature paused, its gaze locking onto us. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to run, but no one moved. Even the air felt heavy, charged with tension. ¡°Hold your ground,¡± Lena said softly, her voice steady but low. ¡°Don¡¯t provoke it.¡± We stood frozen as the beast sniffed the air, its tail flicking lazily. For what felt like an eternity, it stared at us, its glowing eyes narrowing. Then, with a low growl that reverberated through my chest, it turned and slunk back into the bushes, disappearing as silently as it had appeared. The group exhaled in unison, the tension breaking like a snapped wire. ¡°We¡¯re lucky,¡± Lena said, glancing at me. ¡°If it had decided we were a threat, it would probably have taken out most of us.¡± I swallowed hard, my heart still hammering. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± ¡°Spirit beast,¡± Darrin repeated. ¡°They¡¯re rare, but you don¡¯t want to mess with them. That one must have been scouting out new territory.¡± Lena nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving and put some space between us and that! The sooner we¡¯re back home, the better.¡± By the time we reached the village, the sun had set, and the sky was painted with stars. The settlement was a modest collection of structures that would not have been out of place in a renaissance faire. I would have compared it to a real medieval village but there were way too many anachronisms for that. Rustic wooden beams held up metal roofing and walls of roughhewn held double pane windows. A faint glow emanated from within most, the flicker of firelight and the rhythmic clack of what could have been a hand cranked machine could be heard. The villagers, a mix of men, women, and children, paused their evening routines to watch us. Their expressions ranged from cautious curiosity to outright suspicion. A few of the older ones carried weapons similar to those of the scavenger band. Darrin raised a hand in greeting. ¡°We¡¯re back,¡± he called, his jolly voice carrying across the open space. ¡°And a stray pup seems to have followed us home!¡± An older man stepped forward; his face weathered but his eyes sharp. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡± he asked, his tone guarded. ¡°Elder Cogwin! We found him wandering out near the old industrial zone,¡± Lena replied. ¡°He¡¯s seemed harmless and he looked like he¡¯d been through hell. So, we figured we¡¯d bring him back, let him rest and feed him something.¡± The man¡¯s gaze shifted to me, scrutinizing me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he gave a curt nod. ¡°Fine. He¡¯s your responsibility. And he pulls his weight while he¡¯s here.¡± I nodded quickly. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll do whatever I can.¡± The old man, nodded to me once and turned back to what he was doing. Lena led me to a small house on the edge of the village. The front door opened into a small kitchen. From there, she took me to an interior door. Opening it, I could see that inside was a small bed and a side table. On the wall leaned a large cabinet. As I took in my surroundings, I hadn¡¯t notice Lena¡¯s departure. She returned and handed me a small loaf of dense bread and a cup of water. ¡°Eat, rest. We¡¯ll talk more in the morning,¡± she said. I accepted the food with gratitude, devouring it despite its dryness. As I lay down on the bed, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. My body ached, my mind churned, but for the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope. Civilization, however broken, was still alive. As sleep claimed me, one thought lingered: Don¡¯t let them find out who you really are! Chapter 9: The Tour The sun was barely up when I heard a sharp knock at the rickety old door to the room. I groaned, rolling out of the bed with all the grace of half dead squirrel. ¡°Time for your tour,¡± Lena called from the other side of the door. ¡°The elders want to meet you afterward, so try to make yourself at least somewhat presentable. I put a mirror, bowl of water and some towels on the table next to the bed for you.¡± I rubbed my eyes and glanced at my reflection in the cracked hand mirror. My reflection wasn¡¯t reassuring, I still looked like a half-starved vagrant. The clothes Darrin had given me were an improvement, but the coarse fabric itched, and the patched trousers hung awkwardly on my lean frame. Plus, sleeping in them had not done the clothes, and myself, any favors. I splashed some water on my face from a basin, raked my fingers through my hair, and decided that ¡°slightly less disheveled¡± would have to do. When I stepped out of the little room, Lena was waiting, her bow slung across her back. ¡°We need to be armed even inside the village?¡±, I asked while staring at her bow. ¡°No,¡± She replied. ¡°I just like to be prepared. You never know when the elders will want me to run an errand for them or a spirit beast will wander into town. Like they say, ¡®be prepared¡¯¡±. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the Boy Scouts moto?¡± ¡°Who are the boy scouts¡±, Lena replied. ¡°Never mind¡±, I said. I gestured towards the door leading outside and said in my best butler voice, ¡°After you!¡± The village stretched out before us, a patchwork of eras and ingenuity. Cobblestone streets crisscrossed between timber-framed houses with mismatched modern additions: salvaged solar panels mounted on thatched roofs, chimneys spewing steam or smoke alongside old-fashioned weather vanes and piping cobbled together from scraps of metal. The faint clang of a blacksmith¡¯s hammer echoed in the distance, mingling with the chatter of villagers starting their day. ¡°Welcome to the village,¡± Lena said, gesturing broadly. Seeing my face, she added, ¡°Try not to gawk too much.¡± I couldn¡¯t help the faint smile. ¡°No promises.¡± Lena led me to the village square, a bustling hub of activity surrounded by buildings that were as eclectic as the villagers themselves. A clock tower rose in the center and I could just imagine its gears turning with steady precision. Beneath its shadow, vendors had set up stalls offering goods ranging from fresh produce to scavenged mechanical parts and hand-crafted tools. A blacksmith worked at an outdoor forge nearby, the glow of molten metal illuminating his sweat-streaked face. What appeared to be a young, but very muscular boy pumped the bellows and as they wheezed rhythmically, the even more muscular blacksmith hammered on a glowing horseshoe. Nearby, a group of children darted past, laughing as they chased a kite cobbled together from scraps of fabric and wood. ¡°You seem to blend a lot of eras together,¡± I said, nodding toward a vendor selling preserved food in obviously repurposed jars. Their factory labels having long ago been washed off. ¡°We do what we can to survive,¡± Lena replied. ¡°Most pre-fall tech stopped working or became unreliable after the Collapse. What¡¯s left, the older stuff, we patch up and keep running as long as we can.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that the Sect frown on that?¡± Lena¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°The Sect does more than frown. But the magistrate goes a step further. He takes joy in cracking down on anything he considers ¡®heretical technology.¡¯ The blacksmith had his old power hammer destroyed last month. Claimed it ¡®violated the natural order.¡¯ As you can see, he is back to swinging a hammer.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. I frowned. ¡°And you¡¯re supposed to make do with what? Stone tools and flint arrowheads?¡± ¡°Pretty much,¡± Lena said grimly. ¡°If the magistrate decides to destroy more of what¡¯s left, we¡¯ll have a hard time getting through the next winter.¡± I nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Sounds like they¡¯re setting you up to fail.¡± Lena shrugged. ¡°Failure keeps us dependent on the Sect. They like it that way. It seems they won¡¯t be happy until we are all living only by the grace of the Sect.¡± Next, Lena took me to the edge of the village, where a water mill churned steadily in a wide stream. The wheel, fashioned from salvaged steel and wood, drove a series of grinding stones inside the millhouse. Villagers carried sacks of grain in and out, their chatter blending with the rhythmic creak of the wheel. ¡°This is one of our most important structures,¡± Lena explained. ¡°Keeps us fed and gives us something to trade with the other villages.¡± I peered at the mill. ¡°Impressive craftsmanship. Who maintains it?¡± ¡°The engineers,¡± Lena said. ¡°We¡¯ve got a few people who can manage basic repairs, but if something breaks, it can take weeks to fix. The tools we need are either lost or banned.¡± As we walked, the farm kid in me could not stop evaluating the land and its bounty. Silicon Valley used to be known as Santa Clara Valley and had highly productive agribusinesses because of its highly fertile soil. Santa Clara Valley is now, or was before the fall, highly urbanized. Looks like it reverted to farmland again. She led me further along the stream to a series of makeshift canals and ditches branching into the fields. The canals didn¡¯t connect to the stream. The water level in the canals were about four feet higher than the stream. ¡°This is our irrigation system. It¡¯s not much, but it works.¡± It was a far cry from the center pivot irrigation systems that I had grew up with. I crouched to examine one of the ditches, noting the haphazard reinforcements made from salvaged plastic and crumbling cement. ¡°Barely,¡± I muttered. ¡°How are you pumping the water up to the canals?¡± Lena sighed. ¡°With a pump.¡± She seemed just a bit defensive. I reminded myself that I was an outsider but I just had to ask, ¡°A powered pump?¡± She blinked. ¡°I grew up in farm country¡±, I hear myself say, ¡°and I know how irrigation makes marginal land productive and increases yield on already productive land. I also know that this land is VERY productive but the summers are very dry. Irrigation is needed to maximize productivity ¡­ to feed everyone.¡± Lena just stared at me a moment before she said, ¡°The pump system is hidden because if the Magistrate ever destroyed them, this village would die¡±. I clenched my fists, suppressing a sudden surge of anger. ¡°And you¡¯re just supposed to let the crops wither and die?¡± Lena¡¯s face hardened. ¡°What choice do we have?¡± By midday, we arrived at the meeting hall, a large structure made entirely of salvaged materials. The walls were reinforced with beams salvaged from old industrial buildings, and the roof¡ªa patchwork of corrugated metal¡ªgleamed dully in the sunlight. Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of oil and wood smoke. A long wooden table dominated the room, surrounded by chairs of various makes and sizes. The elders were already seated, their faces a mix of curiosity and suspicion as they watched me enter. Elder Cogwin sat at the head of the table, his weathered face impassive but his sharp eyes tracking my every move. The other elders¡ªa mix of men and women, all seasoned by years of survival, murmured quietly among themselves. ¡°So,¡± Elder Cogwin said, his voice firm. ¡°You¡¯ve seen our village. Now tell us, stranger, what do you bring to it? What skills do you have that make you worth feeding?¡± I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. I couldn¡¯t reveal too much¡ªnot yet. ¡°I have some experience with machinery and farming,¡± I said finally. ¡°I grew up on a farm and as an adult, I worked with systems. Making them more efficient.¡± The elders exchanged skeptical glances. ¡°Efficiency, you say?¡± one of them asked. ¡°You mean you improved processes or actual machines?¡± I nodded. ¡°Something like that, I was an Engineer.¡± ¡°Can you prove it?¡± another elder demanded, her tone sharp. I smiled faintly. ¡°Give me something broken, and I¡¯ll fix it.¡± The room fell silent. Finally, Elder Cogwin leaned back in his chair. ¡°We¡¯ll hold you to that. But first, what do we call you? You haven¡¯t even given us your name.¡± I hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. ¡°Rip,¡± I said, my tone steady. ¡°My name is Rip.¡± Elder Cogwin nodded. ¡°Very well, Rip. For now, you¡¯ll work under Lena¡¯s supervision. Consider it a trial period.¡± I inclined my head. ¡°Fair enough.¡± As the meeting ended and the elders filed out, Lena gave me a questioning look. ¡°Rip? As in Rip van Winkle? Really?¡± I grinned. ¡°Seemed fitting.¡± Lena shook her head but didn¡¯t press further. ¡°Come on. If you¡¯re serious about fixing things, I¡¯ve got something for you to look at.¡± As we stepped back into the sunlight, I felt a flicker of something I hadn¡¯t felt since I woke up, purpose. The village might be a mess of contradictions, but it was alive. And for now, that was enough.