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One problem after the other

  “Hmmmmmmmmm,” I drawled out lazily, staring at the megastructure.

  After a few minutes of inspection, I noticed that the structure’s sterilization vents were left open.

  “Hmmm, seems like the structure was stuck in purification mode upon landing,” I thought to myself.

  Most times when megastructures like these were built, the entire planet was usually completely purified of all non-sentient life, and then the native species of whatever was colonizing it would introduce life forms native to the planet.

  There was definitely something I could exploit around that side. As old and decrepit as the structure looked, I didn’t want to test its ability to detect life forms around it—though when it came to the sterilization vents, that might be a blind spot.

  “As long as the structure detects the bots in my bloodstream, it shouldn’t turn me into mush. In fact, that’s probably what’s going on now,” I mused while looking around.

  After formulating a rough plan, I started walking toward the structure. “Map the best areas to evade the surveillance of this structure, based on the sensors you can find.” I paused, then added, “And also—activate camouflage mode.”

  Although I was evading the structure’s detection, it didn’t stop naked eyes from spotting me. Sadly, my link didn’t have any advanced stealth features.

  A map lit up at the top right corner of my vision. I glanced at it. “The systems are way more deteriorated than I expected,” I noted as I moved toward the structure.

  ---

  Gilbert’s POV:

  “I really don’t understand why we’re still doing this,” I said, staring at the flickering holograms presenting a dead view of the barren wasteland outside the vault. Its light reflected on the rust-stained walls of the cubicle, a little bulb flickering from the ceiling, barely bringing any light to the room.

  “Well, it’s free money!” I said, trying to find the positives in this situation. The pay was better than most menial jobs, plus, as long as I was on the job, I was entitled to one nutrient cube for the whole day! That was the biggest perk around here.

  “There’s nothing outside but a dry wasteland that would only sap the life out of you. Who would even want to go there?” I thought while spinning in my chair, its joints squeaking precariously.

  There was no movement outside. All the sensors were beeping at their usual pace.

  In summary, a normal day around here. A small dot seemed to appear on the hologram at the edge of my vision, but by the time I swerved toward the disturbance, it had disappeared. I rubbed my swollen eyes and thought, “I’m already seeing things again?! But I haven’t drunk from the lower extractors in a while.” I grumbled a little before grudgingly going to retrieve my daily nutrient cube.

  ---

  ### Othello’s POV:

  I stood in front of an impossibly large vent—probably the size of a neighborhood, and that was just in length.

  Surprisingly, there was no dirt or grime on its interior, though a pale and odorless ‘gas’ slowly seeped out of it.

  “Hmm, seems I was correct. But how is it still producing this even after the structure itself has almost crumbled?” I shook such thoughts out of my head and braced myself for the nauseating feeling of my link interacting with another device. Though nobody I knew ever felt this way, interacting with devices was like rubbing dirt and grime on exposed flesh.

  “Alright, do it,” I thought toward my link. Immediately, a panel appeared in my vision.

  “Scanning…….. - Connection found. Would you like to connect with - Bastion 6286?” An emotionless voice inquired, seemingly coming from everywhere. I took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”

  **“Building neural pathways…… forming bridges…**

  **……. sending encrypted data…… receiving…**

  **……Decrypting…**

  **….. establishing connections…”**

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  Immediately, the process reached this part, and I felt like someone had taken a brush and started scrubbing my brain. I groaned in agony, but the indifferent voice continued either way.

  **“..... connection established…**

  **……Requesting access… access granted…**

  **…Requesting clearance level… captain… denied…**

  **…. requesting clearance level… vice captain… denied…**

  **.. requesting clearance level… warden… denied…**

  **Requesting clearance level….. denied…. denied…… denied……….…**

  **Requesting clearance level… civilian… access granted.”**

  The pain receded, and in its place, a tiny itching sensation spread around my skull. A prompt also flashed on the panel: “Do you wish to use force?”

  “No,” I said breathlessly. Even though this structure was heavily damaged and definitely had a lot of exploitable weaknesses, I didn’t want to alert anyone inside of my presence.

  “If anything was to be believed, my presence here would probably cause quite a stir,” I thought to myself while hunched on the floor, still a little dizzy.

  After a few minutes, I managed to get up.

  Looking at the large vent, I sighed and crawled into it, cursing all the way through. After spending a few minutes climbing the oddly stain-free pipe “Not even rust,” I thought as I climbed. “That was definitely odd.”, these encroaching thoughts immediately dissolved from my brain as I saw an end to the tunnel. I double-checked my camouflage and softened my footsteps as I got closer to the edge.

  Once there, I peeked around the corner, expecting to see some traffic—but all I saw was an empty hallway.

  “That doesn’t make any sense?” I said, frowning.

  I peeked again before hesitantly taking a paperweight from my pocket and throwing it into the hallway.

  Immediately as it passed the threshold, it rippled and disappeared.

  “Did you catch that?” I asked my link.

  It was silent for a while before suddenly chiming:

  **“Aetheric anomaly detected.**

  **Status: active.**

  **Threat: low.**

  **Concentration: 6g689y7bxrJojfr27974w.**

  **Type: sp-error.”**

  I stared at the notification for a while before sighing and looking at the anomaly itself.

  “One stupid thing after the other,” I grumbled.

  I stood at the edge of the anomaly, hesitant to enter. “There’s no other way. I can last at most another 10 days before the bots in my bloodstream run out of convertible nutrients.” I psyched myself up and, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped into the anomaly.

  The first thing that hit me was the stench—it was practically choking at this point.

  “Activate purification mode,” I said between coughs.

  After a few moments, the stench receded, and my lungs got their reprieve. Once I recovered, I raised my head to study the area I was in.

  A dim glow covered everything. Trash was piled into huge towers, and moving between these towering hills were people scavenging. Above, millions of saws arranged in a circular pattern spun slowly.

  A low crunching sound came from beneath the mountains of trash.

  The dim red glow made the whole scene look eerier—“Like the stomach of a humongous beast,” I thought silently.

  My feet were already sinking into the slimy mess beneath me. My skin crawled at the number of flies and maggots gathering there.

  “At this point, the energy spent keeping sanitary practices up will reduce my stock to five days,” I said with resignation.

  I turned my attention toward the scattered figures scavenging from the trash hills. Most wore skintight suits, though a small minority were clad only in torn rags, covering as much skin as possible.

  The suited ones moved in cohesive groups, swaggering wherever they went, while the ragged ones cowered at every step.

  I noted this interaction and kept observing.

  As the ceiling saws accelerated, the figures retreated from the trash hills. Most split off, but I stuck with the largest group. They walked for a while, carrying huge bags on their shoulders, their skintight suits obscuring any identifying features.

  Eventually, as we went higher, traces of civilization appeared—though the most disturbing thing was the sanitary conditions.

  “At this point, it isn’t even better than a dump site,” I thought.

  Living in close proximity to those trash mountains would do that to anyone.

  Soon, they reached a relatively clean building—or more like a factory.

  The moment they arrived, their mock cooperativeness dissolved, and they split into smaller groups, eyeing each other warily. Smaller groups were picked on, their goods stolen—but surprisingly, nobody was killed.

  “I expected that in an environment this cutthroat, at least some deaths would be unavoidable,” I thought.

  But so far, I’d seen no direct killings.

  After lingering for a while, a chime sounded from the building, and the doors slid open. The figures started trooping in.

  As I was about to enter, I noticed two sensors flanking the door.

  “Will these detect me?” I asked my link.

  “Low probability.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” I said before retreating into the alleys of the dilapidated town.

  After finding a place to rest, I told my link, “Bring up everything that’s happened since I entered the bastion.”

  The ever-present tickling in my brain intensified.

  “Full immersion?” the emotionless voice asked.

  “Yeah, I need to review everything. Information is power, after all,” I mumbled before fading into unconsciousness.

  ---

  Peter (Gremlin’s Dad) POV:

  I stood before Constantine’s door, my hand hovering over it, my face clouded with hesitation. Ever since Othello… disappeared, all she’d done was lock herself in her room.

  Though I knew she had no love lost for me, it still hurt to see her like this.

  “I’m sorry. Trust me, I really am,” I thought regretfully.

  I shook the thoughts away and psyched myself up. After gathering enough courage, I knocked.

  “Uh… baby, please, can you open the door?” I said hesitantly.

  No response.

  I knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing.

  Fearing the worst, I grabbed the knob and twisted—only to find it wasn’t locked.

  I hesitantly opened the door… and found the room empty.

  “When did she leave?” I thought, looking around the dimly lit corridor. The implants in my eyes adjusted to the low light.

  I walked down the hall, searching for her door by door. Finally, I reached Othello’s room and opened it.

  There, I found Constantine sitting on the floor, fiddling with a circular contraption.

  But none of that caught my attention—her eyes were hollow, sunken, almost dead. All my words stuck in my throat.

  “Those aren’t the eyes of a 13-year-old,” I thought grimly.

  Her gaze didn’t focus on me as she stood and walked past, muttering, “How? How? Why?”

  For some reason, this version of my daughter sent chills down my spine.

  She seemed… dangerous

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