I surfaced from the dreamscape in a fog, my mind swimming in fragments like broken code trying to recompile itself. The emergency lights above flickered weakly, casting jagged reflections that danced like ghosts. Everything felt off-kilter, as if I were trying to reconnect in a foreign system, my mind struggling to sync with the reality around me.
It started with the blankets—a sensory anchor in the disorienting drift. The weight of them grounded me, an anchor in the swirl of disjointed thoughts. Then came the cot beneath me, which felt softer than it had any right to. And that’s when I knew something was really up.
The dull ache in my limbs faded, replaced by a startling clarity—a smoothness to my movements, a restoration that was unnervingly complete. My body, fine-tuned, calibrated, like someone had gone in and swapped out my rusty parts overnight.
“Morning, sunshine,” Arvie’s voice was playful, almost irreverent. “While you were snoozing, I’ve been doing a little maintenance. Cleared some corrupted data banks, categorized some old data... nothing fancy.”
“Maintenance?” I echoed, fingers massaging my temples as I tried to push through the residual haze.
“Yep, good as new! Well... mostly. Might still have a few quirks. Think of me as running on a beta build—usable but unpredictable. And, oh, I found something interesting.”
Her tone had a new edge, something almost... proud. That caught my attention. “Interesting?”
“I dug into your vital stats, your enhancement data, and guess what? You’re special. Like, one-of-a-kind special.”
A frown creased my forehead. “Special how?”
“For starters, you’ve got enhancements that are rare—prized by the elite, you’re healing faster, adapting to hostile environments like that toxic fog outside. Won’t bother you much. Heightened senses—night vision, advanced hearing, the works. Oh, and your race, well, it doesn’t match anything in my database, but you’re... something more.”
“And you?” I asked, already knowing her answer.
“I’m your upgrade,” she replied, smugness rolling off every syllable. “As far as I can tell, no one else has anything like me. I’m your very own unique, smart-ass AI companion. I can hack interfaces, command nearby droids, override systems... once I get fully functional. Neurolink repairs should be a priority.”
I smirked, still massaging my temples. “Great. So, while I was dreaming, you were busy making me sound like some rare collectible.”
“Pretty much. Oh, and one more thing: there’s an automated diary installed in your mind console.”
“A what?”
“A black-box for your life. It’s been recording everything since you woke up, logging every sensory input, every stray thought, from your perspective. It’s pretty sophisticated—but, like us, it’s blank before you woke up. I think I wrote it before we lost our memories. Feels like something I’d do.”
I blinked at the ceiling, the idea of a journal playing back my life both fascinating and unsettling. “Can I access it?”
“Just give me the command,” Arvie chirped. “It’s a full sensory replay. You won’t just see your memories, you’ll live them. Might help jog something loose.”
Curiosity won. “Do it.”
The world around me shimmered, colors blended together, and suddenly I was back in the moment I first woke up. The cold bite of metal, the hum of unseen machinery, and the acrid air filled my senses again, sharper this time. My body felt heavy, limbs twitching as they fought against the lingering numbness.
A voice cut through the darkness, not external, but a pulse within my own mind, urgent, impatient. “Come on, wake up already. I can’t keep this going forever.”
Her tone cut through the disorientation. I forced my eyes open, peeling back the layers of confusion one blink at a time, colors bleeding into each other as my vision settled on the chaotic, fractured chamber around me. Twisted metal, flickering panels, and circuitry spilling out like entrails. The air was thick with a sickly green haze.
“Who... are you?” My mental voice barely echoed in the haze.
“I’m your companion. Call me Arvie,” she replied, her voice softening. “Focus on waking up, master; we’ve got a lot to sort through.”
Arvie. The name was familiar yet distant, like a forgotten melody suddenly remembered. Her presence was comforting, even as the rest of the world remained an unsolved enigma. The walls around me seemed to pulse with the rhythm of my own disjointed heartbeat, everything a jigsaw puzzle with too many missing pieces.
And just like that, the memory snapped back into the present. I blinked, disoriented from the sudden shift. “That was... intense. It felt so real. Like I was living it all over again.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” Arvie said, her tone back to light and irreverent. “Full sensory playback. You get to live it all over again. Pretty neat, huh?”
“Neat,” I echoed, still reeling from how real it had felt. “But why would we need something like this?”
“Insurance, maybe. A way to keep track of yourself, even if everything else was taken away. Either way, it’s a hell of a tool. We can use it to piece things together.”
I nodded, pushing myself up from the cot. My body responded effortlessly, every motion smooth, like freshly oiled machinery. The haze had lifted, replaced by a sharpened awareness—a feeling that everything had been recalibrated overnight.
“But here’s the thing,” I said, frustrated. “The diary has nothing from before I woke up. If it was recording, those entries were wiped too.”
Arvie hesitated for a moment. “That’s... disturbing. If they erased our past, it means there’s something there they didn’t want us to remember.”
I nodded. “So, we’re chasing down something someone went to great lengths to make us forget.”
“Exactly,” Arvie replied, her voice edged with a new intensity. “We’ve got a challenge ahead of us, master, and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to crack this wide open.”
With a final nod, I moved through the dim corridors until I found Jaraek and Reya. They were at the table, casually assembling what passed for food in this place. Their eyes flicked up as I approached.
“Ah, look at you,” Jaraek grunted, sounding impressed. “Like you’ve been rebuilt overnight.”
Reya nodded, her eyes lingering on me. “You seem... different. Mended, somehow, but there’s more to it. Still, you might want to find yourself a bath. And some garments that are not falling apart wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Thanks for the critique,” I replied with a smirk. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing what you’re seeing. Got a mirror?”
They exchanged a glance, then Reya led me through a narrow hallway to a small closet where a full-length mirror hung. I stepped in front of it and blinked, taken aback by the reflection staring back at me.
Tall, lean—my frame was built for speed, not brute force. Bluish-silver hair caught the dim light, glowing faintly, like it was laced with something otherworldly. Darker eyebrows, slanting upward, sharpened the edges of my gaze—bright green, alive with intelligence. My face, it held a strange aura that gave me pause.
Behind me, Jaraek and Reya were shorter, their reflections solid, grounded. Bushy dark hair streaked with red highlights, eyes shadowed, skin rougher—survivors of a different nature. They were cut from a different cloth, the contrast was stark.
“Guess we won’t be passing as family,” I quipped with a smirk, turning to face them.
Jaraek shrugged, with a ghost of a smile. “You’re certainly not like the rest of us.”
I nodded, following them back to the table.
As we ate, the conversation drifted to origins—filling in gaps, establishing baselines. Jaraek leaned back, more relaxed now that the immediate crisis had passed.
“We’re Ezollaid,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Most of us anyway. We make our homes in domed cities or villages up in the treetops, high above the Nether. It’s safer there, away from the poison and the twisted wilds below.”
Reya took over, her voice carrying a mix of drive and weariness. “Then there are the Faen—they keep to the highland strongholds, and wandering bands. They’re bulkier, with darker skin. As for the ghouls...”
“The ghouls,” I nodded. “Not exactly friendly neighbors.”
Reya nodded. “But you... you’re something else, something we’ve never seen before. Perhaps you come from a place beyond our knowing.”
Arvie’s voice cut in, teasing. “Or maybe you’re just a really fancy Ezollaid with a makeover gone wrong.”
I chuckled, feeling more like myself for the first time since waking up. “Maybe I’m a new species altogether. Who knows? But we’ll figure it out.”
After the meal, Jaraek stretched and gave me a look. “You’ll be needing a proper wash, I’d say. There’s an old cleansing unit down the hall—still working, last I checked. We call it the Refinery. It’ll get you cleaned up.”
The Refinery? I raised an eyebrow. Sounded like something out of an industrial complex, not exactly a place for a spa day. “The Refinery, huh? Sounds like just what I need.”
Jaraek grunted something like a laugh and motioned for me to follow. We wound our way through dimly lit corridors, everything had that vaguely metallic smell of overheating machinery. When we reached a reinforced door, Jaraek keyed in a mental code, and it slid open with a low hiss, revealing a spacious chamber lined with a row of cleansing booths.
The place had a utilitarian vibe, barebones tech that had seen better days, but still functional. The kind of setup where you half-expected to be scrubbed down by a droid with a grudge.
“Privacy in the booths,” Jaraek said, pointing them out. “Full-body sprays, temperature controls... It’s not luxury, but it serves its purpose.”
“Luxury’s overrated anyway,” I muttered, thinking of my journey here. The bar was low.
I thanked him and stepped into one of the booths. The door sealed shut behind me with a soft hiss. The system engaged, a gentle spray of water kicked in, perfectly calibrated to my body temp. I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me, cleansing away the grime and the ghosts of the past few days.
It wasn’t just about getting clean. It was about rebooting. Starting fresh. Prepping for whatever was next, because something told me whatever lay ahead wasn’t going to be gentle.
When I finally stepped out, there was a uniform waiting on a nearby bench. Charcoal gray with silver trim. The fabric was light but durable, with a cut that spoke more to functionality than fashion. Still, it wasn’t bad, considering it was probably scavenged from whatever remnants of civilization this place had left.
The insignia caught my eye: a stylized gear encircling a flame. There was history there—of what, I had no idea—but it had the aura of something important. I dressed quickly. The fit was a little off in places, but it would do. Better than running around in half-shredded rags.
When I got back to the main chamber, Reya and Jaraek were hunched over the table, sorting through supplies. Reya glanced up, giving me a quick once-over. “That uniform suits you well enough. We found it tucked away in storage—management’s attire. It’s the closest match we could find for your size.”
I tugged at the collar, trying to make it feel more like mine and less like a hand-me-down from a bureaucrat with better posture. “It’ll do,” I said, nodding, appreciating their effort.
Jaraek’s eyes flicked over me, like he was mentally checking off a list. Finally, he nodded. “Good. You look ready.”
He reached behind him and tossed me a small pack—a few ration bars and water. “You’ll want these,” he said. “Not gourmet, but they won’t kill you. Probably.”
I caught the pack and stashed it in my satchel. “I’ll try to survive the experience,” I quipped.
“Time to move out.” I slung the satchel over my shoulder, the weight of the plasma rifle settling against my back like an old friend you’d rather not need but are glad is there.
I gave Reya and Jaraek a nod, part farewell, part thanks, and maybe a little promise that I’d come back in one piece—though, given recent history, that last part was wishful thinking.
The path ahead was still murky, like walking through fog with only the vaguest sense of direction, but it felt clearer now, like I was finally starting to cut through the fog, revealing pieces of a much larger, intricate puzzle.
There was a new sense of purpose simmering beneath the surface, and this was just the start, the first step on a long, winding path to clarity.447Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUz0KyLSPlZ
