The Fountain
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When I was a boy I saw paradise.
It was a hololog of the beforeworld. Pillars of concrete and glass and flowing water everywhere. People. More than I have ever seen or will ever see, moving together as kurod-ants herd toward their homeholes.
There are legends I have heard. Some call them lies, and others gospel. Liars and hucksters, adventurers and fools, the pious and fanatical, they all speak of The Fountain. A source of eternal fresh water. The last source, still untainted by the salt storms or the faustworms or the bitter taste of Lalem root. Many have made the pilgrimage to the far north, seeking a taste of the pure water. Some return halfway. Others are never heard from again and still more die on the path.
When I was a boy I saw paradise. And that vision sears my soul even now, because I have only ever dwelt in hell. But no more. Today I have decided to make the sacred pilgrimage to the The Fountain. Maybe I'll die, maybe I'll return with a hung head and a missing arm, as Guard Kiksput did, maybe I'll never return. Yet, I would do all of those things than die here, knowing only the bitter taste of root-water..
I am a
>Mute
+ Start with a random mutation
+ Every level up you may spend exp for a random mutation
+ Can direct self-evolution
- Bots attack on sight
- All mutations have some drawback
- Mutagens are poisonous
>Skinbag
+ Start with a random piece of junk
+ Chems work better and faster
+ Bots are perma-friendly
- Generally weaker than other races
- Much more affected by the environment
- Can only mutate through consumption of mutagens
>Zenbot
+ Start with 1 random botmod
+ Completely unaffected by environment
+ Unaffected by poisons and toxins
+ Can replace/modify botmods on self without danger
- Chems have no effect
- Need 3x as much water to survive
- Need external power source to use some botmods
Rules:
To play, roll 2d100. I will choose the action with the highest (first) number. The second number determines success/failure. Only 1 person per roll, however, any number of unique people may
try to improve someone else's roll. I will always choose the highest possible roll combination.
(e.g you roll 2d100 and get 35, 67. Another person may roll 2d100 for the same action you suggested to try and improve 1 or both rolls)
Rolled 34, 95 = 129 (2d100)
>Mute
>>209405
Voting for skinbag, we can get a squad of robots to protect us.
>>209419
Roll 2d100 pls (or someone roll for him)
Rolled 38, 25 = 63 (2d100)
>>209419
My bad thought we were just voting for race right now
>>209405
>Skinbag
Rolled 14, 54 = 68 (2d100)
>>209469
Skinbags are the sick men of the afterworld. Weak, easily killed, not particularly numerous (but then who are?), but what they lack in muscle they make up for in ingenuity and tenacity. Or so I'd like to believe. Some say they're the descendants of the beforeworld, and having seen the holologs myself, and my own reflection, I'd have to agree. Its a difficult life being a skinbag, no mute-spooks or zenbotmods but at least the sentry bots are always friend (no one really knows why, probably has something to do with how they were made in the beforeworld).
In any case, I've made it to the nearest Junkhub from my place of birth, its a kind of rite of passage to be able to make it this far (only a few miles, but a few miles in the Junkle is often enough to kill you, or make you wish you were dead).
A large circular signpost hangs at the entrance. Bur er King. Drive Thru. Hmm, royalty...I'd better watch my step. The Junkhub is different from home, lots of hustle and bustle, lots of people. Merchants peddling root-water for odds and ends, bored looking sentry bots patrolling back and forth, hell lot of mutes -- a lot more yelling and spitting than I'd heard about, but all in all, well within my expectations.
According to Guard Kiksput, I was supposed to meet with a zenbot named 68plus1. But there's plenty of daylight left, maybe I should look around a little? See the sights? Then again I'm feeling pretty tired, a slab of thirpsteak and a bed would be pretty good too.
>Look for accomodations
>Look for 68plus1
>Just explore the Hub
>>209583
>Look for 68plus1
>>209606
roll 2d100 please
>>209750Its a pretty straightforward system I think.
You had better see 68plus1 first, who knows if he'll even be around tomorrow. You ask around for some directions, but it isn't too much help. After walking around randomly for a few hours you see a sign 68+1's Depot. Must be the place.
Its a dingy little box with tin sheets for a roof. The walls are thick concrete and the stench is a mix of aftershave, metal and thirp droppings. Its dark too, mostly from the grime on the windows, but the sun is also setting. Various strange contraptions line the broken shelves and litter the floor. Some even hang from the ceiling. You see some sparks flying out in the back and follow the smell of burning. A Zenbot, with the characteristic metal head and the single, glowing red senseye, is bent over some piece of junk, fusing together wires with a solder.
"Are you 68plus1?"
The eye swivels toward you.
"Ye. And who be this skinbag?"
"Guard Kiksput sent me. I am seeking The Fountain."
"'Course you be. And how be that Kiksput doing?" The Zenbot cleans the solder and puts it aside. He brushes past you and you follow him.
"He's...well. I mean not much trouble comes to us so --"
"So he be taking the easy way after the hard. So be it. Now then --" He leads you through a curtain into an empty room, save for a mat on the floor and small altar in the back. He lights some incense on the alter, takes out a two small bowls and jug of root-water and gestures for you to sit down. You step forward -
"Ah. This skinbag not be coming in with shoes now be he?" You forgot. Zenbots don't like shoes in their living quarters, cleanliness and purity or some such. You take of your dirt encrusted shoes and leave them by the curtain. He passes you the bowl and you take a drink. Bitter; but water is water. 68plus1 pours himself a bowlful, opens his mouth slot and drinks deep.
"So. This skinbag be wanting to see The Fountain, ye?" And he pours himself another bowl.
"Yes. Guard Kiksput said you could help me...that is, show me the way"
He opens his mouth slot again and pours the root-water down. You can hear it gurgle down like water in a drain.
"Why this skinbag be seeking The Fountain? Hmm? Be he sick?"
"No...at least, I don't think so. I don't really know why I want to go. But I know that I have to, and that death is better than the "Name" I'd otherwise live." He starts a little at the mention of the "Name". You smile.
"Hmm...this skinbag be knowing the sermons of Sa-ko?"
"I know a little." You prepare the words.
"The subtle way is knowing
each raindrop never misses
each snowflake goes where it must"
"This skinbag be reciting well! But recitation not be understanding. And understanding not be walking." You are offered a refill, your refuse. 68plus1 shrugs and opens his mouth slot again, this time draining the entire jug. He gets up.
"68plus1 can help this skinbag. That Kiksput be good friend -- for a mute." You get up, suddenly excited.
(1/2)
>>209938
>Its a pretty straightforward system I think.
Whether or not it's straightforward isn't the issue, it's what you're trying to accomplish with it that might not be concurrent with what it actually does that might be the problem. It's very random. Why randomize actions that might as well be decided by majority vote?
(2/2)
"But 68plus1 not be sending this skinbag to death. This skinbag be proving himself to 68plus1 first, then he help this skinbag. Ye?"
Guard Kiksput had already warned you about this. You nod. He gestures for you to follow him and leads to you a yard in the back of the shop.
The yard is even more cluttered than the shop. Piece of junk are piled high creating a labyrinth like structure. Its like the Junkle, except less green stuff and more broken metal. He leads you deeper into the yard and pulls out something from the junkpile.
"Skinbag be knowing what's this?"
You:
>know it, because you're a fellow Tinker, like 68plus1
>know it because you're a Beforehead and you've seen it studying some obscure hololog
>don't know it because you're a Pincer and this doesn't fall under the type of Junk you use.
>don't know it because you're a Ritter and don't care for beforetech unless it stabs or shoots.
>don't know because you're a Monker and shun all beforetech, and if you can't shoot it into your veins, it ain't worth your interest.
Roll 2d100
>>209978
Well its being decided by majority vote either way, since you can re-roll for other people. Also I like the element of randomness in the decision making, it makes writing it more interesting.
>>209982
Could you elaborate on the Pincer?
>>210048
Sure. Pincers use Junk to get into places normal people wouldn't even notice, let alone break into. They are like Tinkers in that they can take apart Junk and make their own, but unlike Tinkers, Pincers are limited in what they can make. They can't make or fix complicated Junk, and they can't make totally new Junk like Tinkers can. Pincers the hackers, thieves and scouts of the afterworld and they use Junk only to that end.
Rolled 77, 18 = 95 (2d100)
>>209982
>know it because you're a Beforehead and you've seen it studying some obscure hololog
It just seems in-character.
>>210359
Yeah, you know what this is, or at least what it should be. You remember seeing a functional one of these in an old hololog.
"Its an anibot right? Looks like...a dog model?" But the legs are too large for the dog models you saw on the hololog, the legs are almost as big as you and look more like thirp-legs -- curved and sharp -- than dog ones.
"Ye. This skinbag be knowing. But it be horse model, not dog."
"Horse?"
"That be big dog. For riding."
"I see."
"This anibot be broken, but 68plus1 be thinking the legs be good for refixing. Put on motor, seatmod, some paint. Be a good way to walk, ye?” The legs would be great for traversing the broken terrain of the Junkle and might even scare away the smaller predators. But what has this got to do with you?
“Hmm...this skinbag be helping 68plus1 refix, and 68plus1 be helping this skinbag get to The Fountain ye?”
“Uh...sure, but I don’t really know anything about refixing beforetech.”
“This skinbag not be refixing! Anibot be needing parts. Most junk 68plus1 be needing, be having around here. But some parts be rarer, this skinbag be needing to find those.” That’s not good. Spejunking has a low survival rate. Guard Kiksput didn’t tell you’d have be to go spejunking. You try to say something but 68plus1 is already moving back toward the shop. You run after him.
“Uh...look 68plus1 I can’t -- I mean -- spejunking -- that’s a little --”
“Ye? This skinbag be saying he be doing anything to get to the Fountain, ye? If this skinbag be having so little resolve, maybe this skinbag be better giving up?” That pisses you off a little, but you maintain your composure, you hold your tongue. The Zenbot smiles and leads you to the counter again. He pulls out a hololog from under the counter, and slides the small cylinder into a slot on the side of his neck. His senseye glows blue and projects the holo onto the counter. It’s a blueprint of the vehicle he’s constructing from the anibot. He zooms into the interior of the engine and highlights a few parts.
“These be the parts 68plus1 be needing.”
Unfortunately you don’t recognize any of them. 68plus1 saves the part models to a separate hololog and hands it to you.
“This skinbag be having holovis?” Of course you do, you’ve been studying holologs practically your whole life. You pull out your holovis from your pocket and show it to 68plus1.
“Hmm, good model be that one, easy to carry, ye?” It was your mother’s. You put it away and nod and take the hololog.
“So, where I can find these parts?”
“Parts be rare...still, this skinbag might be finding them in another shop. Be expensive maybe, this skinbag be having much root-water?” You shake your head, in fact, you’re almost out, the Junkle was hot.
“Hmm, then maybe this skinbag be doing some jobs, be saving root-water. Or this skinbag be going to the Junkle or Junkyard, be spejunking. Spejunking cheaper ye? And maybe be faster, but be much danger too. Ye, this be a good test for this skinbag. Tell 68plus1 if this skinbag be having the stuff to walk the way.”
Well shit. Looks like you might be at this Hub for a while. You say goodbye to the Zenbot and head out. The sun has already set and only sentry bots and shady characters remain on the streets. You head to a mealhouse and pay the last of your root-water for a room and a hot meal. You regret not drinking more at 68plus1’s house. In the morning you:
>Head back to the Junkle to spejunk
>Head to the Junkyard to spejunk
>Look around to see if anyone is selling the parts you need
>Look around for some jobs you can do for root-water
>>210974
>Head to the Junkyard to spejunk
>>211217
In the morning you gather your things and head out. You decide that the best way to go about things is also the simplest way. You’re going to spejunk. The Junkle is too dangerous and too unpredictable so you decide to head for the nearest Junkyard. You slide the hololog into your holovis to look at the parts again. Unfortunately you still don’t recognize any of them. You were never really interested in beforetech; you spent your days programming pewters, trying to analyze old holologs for info on the beforeworld. If you hadn’t begun this pilgrimage you probably would’ve been a bot programmer -- writing AI logic till the end of time. This thought strengthens your resolve, better to die out there Nameless, than live with a Name. You recite the 19th verse in your mind:
When you abandon the way
You do not wander
Nameless, wayless
Every action, every path
Is perfection
Thus I am One
Perhaps this path too is a wandering, but you cannot yet abandon it. But recitation not be understanding. And understanding not be walking. Hmph. Zenbots.
You walk around the Hub asking for directions to the nearest Junkyard but no one does anything here without there being root-water somewhere in the deed. Eventually a group of spejunkers, 2 mutes and a fellow skinbag agree to let you travel with them, as long as you don’t get in their way. The path to the Junkyard is through a short stretch of Junkle and across a sludge lake. A relatively short journey, but it never hurts to have a 7 feet tall carapaced monstrosity taking the point and a winged birdman watching the rear.
“So what’cha looking for skinny?” Asks Melon, the fellow skinbag.
“Parts. For a vehicle.” Melon nods wisely.
“Mmm, don’t mind my saying so, but you don’t seem cut out for this sort of work.” Says Shortpin, the carapaced mute. You laugh.
“Yeah, I guess not. But I need the parts for…*ahem* information, so I’m just doing what I have to do.”
“Mmm, so be it.” Says Shortpin
“So be it.” Says Melon and nods again. There is a sudden rush of wind and Jackson, the birdman, drops behind you.
“How’s it looking Jack?” Says Melon.
“Bwaak -- ahem -- pretty good. Lake is clear and bridge is still there. I didn’t see any Alphabots, they pro--bwaaaaak--probably left after the last time.”
“What happened last time?” You enter into a sudden shade as the tree cover blocks out the sun.
“Fucking Alphabots got Shinji, that’s what happened last time.” Says Melon, between gritted teeth. He spits out the wad of Lalem and stamps it into the ground.
(1/3)
“Easy Melon, Shinji knew the risks.” Says Jackson.
“Yeah, yeah. Fucking Alphabots, man. The fuck’s wrong them anyway? Mutes never did nothing to ‘em.”
“It’s the way they were programmed in the beforeworld.” You almost trip over an upturned root but catch yourself. Melon stops and gives you a strange look.
“What’cha mean by that skinny?” He says. You hesitate, seeing something akin to anger in Melon’s eyes. But then it fades and he continues walking.
“Well, you see, in the beforeworlds, bots were mainly used to wage war and--”
“Hold the fuck on, what the fuck’s a “uar”?” Says Shortpin.
“A war...hmm...well a war was basically a beforeworld conflict. It’s like a fight but much much bigger. They had more people then, and, I guess not enough junk to go around, so they got into fights over the junk. Except that they also used the junk to fight.”
“Well sure, everybody uses junk to fight.” Says Melon. You shake your head.
“Not like this. The junk we have are toys compared to what they had.”
“No shit? Where’d you learn this stuff?”
“Oh, uh...holologs. Of the beforeworld, I used to study them. Still do, I guess.” Melon nods again as if he knew all along.
“Sure. Sure. Alright so what about the Alphabots?”
“Alphabots were made to fight in these wars. Specifically they were programmed to--to” You struggle to remember that one hololog where you had caught glimpse of the Alphabot AI directive, it takes a second but it comes to you: “...eliminate foreign agents.”
“Eliminate foreign agents. And so what? We’re the “foreign agents”?”Asks Jackson.
“Not exactly. According to what I saw, foreign agents were probably enemy bots. But because of the way the AI programmed, I think it can’t differentiate between mutes and bots.”
“Pretty fuckin’ stupid bots if you ask me.” Says Shortpin.
“Wait, is that why bots don’t attack skinnys like you and me?”
“That’s right. At least I think so. I’ve never actually looked at the AI code itself. Just snippets from the holologs, but I think it was programmed in an “A minus B” directive, in other words, it was programmed positively, to protect skinbags and kill all non-skinbags. Which I guess at the time were just other bots, but now also includes mutes.”
“You say you got all this from some holologs?” Says Shortpin.
“Well, with a lot of manipulation, but yeah.”
“So you’re a pincer? Like breaking into nets and stuff?” Melon stops again and now has a serious look on his face.
(2/3)
“Uh, no. Not at all. I mean I’ve written some simple programs, AI stuff, you know, just to get by. But no, never any...pincer work.” This isn’t entirely true, you did break into a Beforeworld security net once, to try and get some restricted holologs, it lasted for about 2 minutes before the net sent a virus to fry your system. It took you three years to rebuild that pewter, you learned then why no one fucks with the Beforeworld security nets. But man...there were some pretty interesting things in there. Melon reassumes his mask of boredom and continues on.
“So you can reprogram the bots huh?” ask Jackson.
“Ahh, well, reprogramming is a lot harder than doing it from scratch. It depends on the bot. Standard issue stuff, I could maybe reprogram, but it would be easier to just rewrite the whole thing from scratch. Heavy duty stuff like Alphabots, well, I could try, but their programs have several layers of encryption to prevent exactly that. Still, if you could get past all of those, then yeah, it’d be...trivial.”
“Heh, a hole in the head is still the best way to take out an Alphabot.”
“Ahhh yes...the subtle approach.” Says Jackson. Melon grins.
You continue in silence for the rest of the way, since noise attracts greenbears. Once you cross the bridge of the sludge lake, it’s only a few minutes to the Junkyard. A wide pillar of glass and steel sticks out from the salt dunes.
“Well here we are, skinny. Now you can walk it alone if you want…” Melon looks at Jackson and Shortpin. Jackson nods and Shortpin doesn’t say anything. “Or you can come hang with us a little longer. Now I can’t promise we’ll find what you’re looking for -- the parts or whatever -- we have our shit to find, but there is strength in numbers.”
A generous offer, you:
>Go with the spejunkers
>Go alone
>>211637
>Go with the spejunkers
But be waru of backstabbing just in case.
>>211637
>Go with the spejunkers
>>213706
>>213836
You decide you will go with them. You don't have much combat experience or any experience for that matter, so it's better to stick with those that do.
You walk together into the "entrance" of the Junkyard -- a large hole on the side of the pillar. It is not dark inside, because the sunlight comes through the glass, but as you go deeper, as you descend below the dunes through the pillar, the darkness becomes all encompassing; suffocating. The spejunkers do not use their lights.“Gotta save the power cells for the underground.” They say.
“Why didn’t we go up, instead of down?” You ask.
“Heh, rookie mistake, skinny. Ain’t nothing up there, most everything was taken long before we got here. Besides, the real stuff’s down below, on the underground.” Says Jackson, and Melon nods.
“How long have you guys been doing this?”
“Oh a long time. Well, Shortpin here is new. But Melon and I...and Shinji, we’ve been at it for most our lives. What was it Melon? 10 years?”
“12” Says Melon.
“12” Says Jackson, and there is a kind of awe in his voice, as if the number itself was prayer, was the name of god, secret and hidden.
You on walk in silence but not true silence. A quiet of the mind and a quiet of the soul. Shortpin whistles -- no melody or song in mind, just pure and free, like the Sub-jub bird before it hunts, and Melon smacks and snaps the wad of Lalem in his mouth and Jackson coos softly as he walks. There are occasional commands but the syllables are kept short and simple: “Right side.” “Left side.” “Hole ahead.” “Watch your step.” “Wall.” “Going down.” “Duck.”. And your heartbeat and your breathing add to the darkness, merge with the silence. Pretty soon, you yourself disappear, you lose track of your own body; the darkness is liquid and ubiquitous. You cannot see your feet, your legs, your arms, even your hands, yet the sure knowledge of their existence is inescapable. You start believing the ink itself sustains you, carries your arms and legs down and down. Yes, your eyes adjust. Your muscles relax. Awareness comes. But this awareness only serves as comparison, as heat to cold, and the cold is made that much greater, the silence strengthened and darkness deepened.
1/2
2/2
Creatures skitter in the junkyard, some with glowing eyes crawling along the walls or hanging from the ceiling. Some with no eyes. Some with wings. Some that buzz. The others don’t mind them. “Don’t bother ‘em and they won’t bother you” Says Melon in sing-song, but you can sense a profoundness in his tongue, a religion. You’ve seen spejunkers before, some passed through your home town and you’ve seen them in holologs. You remember they had a coldness to them. And even these spejunkers you travel with, have a coldness. It reminds you of a verse from Sa-ko:
When you look into the still pond
And see nothing but the water
Nothing can harm you
And it is as if these spejunkers have walked into the fatal folds of the ungraspable and come back more whole than when they entered. It is not that they cannot die, but, as in the verse, nothing can harm them.
After much descent, but what seems like no time at all, Melon tells you they have come to the underground and to be careful because there are some “nasties the sun doesn’t shine on for a reason”. Power cells are activated and lights are turned on. The underground is a massive expanse of broken metal and glass holding up the salt dunes. You recognize instantly that it is what the Beforeworlders called a “street”. There is an endless assortment of junk, but the spejunkers are practiced and know by experience what nets root-water and what doesn’t. They walk with a practiced gait and ready eye. Occasionally stooping or peeking into the mangled buildings to pick up something of interest. Your extensive knowledge of the Beforeworld is actually useful to the spejunkers, you tell them what certain pieces of junk were used for in the beforeworld, and this helps them decide whether it is worth the effort to carry the junk to the surface. You help them find some valuable junk (or pieces of it) which they would otherwise have never considered. As for your own search, Jackson manages to find one of the pieces you were looking for, albeit a bigger version of it. But the rest will take more time to find.
As you head back toward the pillar you came from, Shortpin, who was still taking point, freezes. “What happened?” Asks Melon.
“Hush!” The lights are turned off and everyone goes stil. You wait. One minute. Five. Ten. You start to relax and then you hear clunking and see a red laser sweeping across the underground. A 7 feet tall tankbot rolls over several wrecks, crushing them into nothing under its treads. The eye-laser on its head swivels back and forth looking for targets. You and the spejunkers are hidden behind a piece of broken wall, safe...for now.
You:
>Get out and attract the attention of the tankbot allowing the others to escape
>Stay where you are and wait for the tankbot to pass
>Other
>>216192
>Get out and attract the attention of the tankbot allowing the others to escape
Bots are friendly to us, right?
>>216192
>Get out and attract the attention of the tankbot allowing the others to escape
If you're serious about continuing this quest, OP, then you should archive this thread because it'll enter autosage today.
>>217035
No worries, every post thus far has been saved on a google doc.
Update later today
>>217237
Looking forward to it.
>>216289
>>217034
Your breath comes quick and short. You feel the others tense up, especially Jackson, who is beside you; he must crouch to hide his wings. You steady your nerves. You still your mind, count off numbers: One, two, three, four. The clanking gets closer. Five. Six. Seven. Your mind settles. Eight. Nine. You remember another verse:
See this seed
I bury it in the earth
Men bury men
Are we then separated?
Beyond touch, influence?
No! See this seed! It grows before your eyes!
Thus, I am One
The clanking gets closer still, you spot the laser dancing near your feet. Thus I am One. You get up. The others freeze. The laser catches your foot and moves toward your face. It diffracts into separate smaller beams, studying your features. As you step out behind the hiding place, you give a hand signal for the others to go. You see Jackson nod. You walk slowly toward the tankbot. Its cannon swivels to meet you. The laser continues to search you. A warped electronic voice speaks:
“CiTIzeN. iT is PaST CuRFEw. ID YouRSElf.”
You think back to the holologs. There had to be something in there about this...something!
“CiTiZEn. it iS pAsT CuRfEw. iD YOurSElf.” Out of the corner of your vision you see the spejunkers climb into the pillar. They are waiting. You feel a sudden, intense thirst. You swallow. The memory comes all at once.
“CiTiZEn. it iS PAsT--”
“Directive, C-one-four-three-six.” The laser freezes in place. You hold your breath. The voice changes to a soothing controlled voice, still electronic, but no longer warped.
“Affirmative. Directive, C-one-four-three-six, ‘Emergency shutdown’ initiated.” Another pause. You count off heartbeats. One. Two. Your lungs scream for air but you do not let them release. Three. Four. “Authorization code required!” You release slowly. Five. Six. Seven. “Authorization code required!”
“Golf-zero-zero-golf-lima-echo” Another pause. Eight. Nine. Ten.
“Incorrect authorization code! Two tries remaining. Authorization code required!.” You swallow. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. “Alpha-papa-papa-lima-echo.” Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. “Authorization code accepted. Shutting down.” The laser switches off first, then the motor of the tankbot, then finally a little bell sounds and there is only silence, after.
You:
>Approach the tankbot and inspect it
>Head into the pillar and head to the surface with the spejunkers
>Other
Whoops, the italics tags got messed up.
>>217919
Your breath comes quick and short. You feel the others tense up, especially Jackson, who is beside you; he must crouch to hide his wings. You steady your nerves. You still your mind, count off numbers: One, two, three, four. The clanking gets closer. Five. Six. Seven. Your mind settles. Eight. Nine. You remember another verse:
See this seed
I bury it in the earth
Men bury men
Are we then separated?
Beyond touch, influence?
No! See this seed! It grows before your eyes!
Thus, I am One
The clanking gets closer still, you spot the laser dancing near your feet. Thus I am One. You get up. The others freeze. The laser catches your foot and moves toward your face. It diffracts into separate smaller beams, studying your features. As you step out behind the hiding place, you give a hand signal for the others to go. You see Jackson nod. You walk slowly toward the tankbot. Its cannon swivels to meet you. The laser continues to search you. A warped electronic voice speaks:
“CiTIzeN. iT is PaST CuRFEw. ID YouRSElf.”
You think back to the holologs. There had to be something in there about this...something!
“CiTiZEn. it iS pAsT CuRfEw. iD YOurSElf.” Out of the corner of your vision you see the spejunkers climb into the pillar. They are waiting. You feel a sudden, intense thirst. You swallow. The memory comes all at once.
“CiTiZEn. it iS PAsT--”
“Directive, C-one-four-three-six.” The laser freezes in place. You hold your breath. The voice changes to a soothing controlled voice, still electronic, but no longer warped.
“Affirmative. Directive, C-one-four-three-six, ‘Emergency shutdown’ initiated.” Another pause. You count off heartbeats. One. Two. Your lungs scream for air but you do not let them release. Three. Four. “Authorization code required!” You release slowly. Five. Six. Seven. “Authorization code required!”
“Golf-zero-zero-golf-lima-echo” Another pause. Eight. Nine. Ten.
“Incorrect authorization code! Two tries remaining. Authorization code required!.” You swallow. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. “Alpha-papa-papa-lima-echo.” Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. “Authorization code accepted. Shutting down.” The laser switches off first, then the motor of the tankbot, then finally a little bell sounds and there is only silence, after.
You:
>Approach the tankbot and inspect it
>Head into the pillar and head to the surface with the spejunkers
>Other
>>217923
>Approach the tankbot and inspect it
