Oath of the Survivor

When Kyle woke up, he hurt.  He had a dull ache behind his eyes, his skin felt like he had a nasty sunburn, and his muscles were screaming in protest.  He hurt worse now than he did during the fight.  I guess that shows how easy I’ve had it Kyle thought, realizing that he really hadn’t faced much true hardship since he’d awakened.  Pain was not a familiar friend, although Kyle had a suspicion that wouldn’t be the case for too much longer. 

Unfortunately, in his current condition the best he could do was to slowly make his way around the area to collect the bodies of the beetles he’d slain and harvest as much of the meat as he could.  The small scalpel in his first aid kit had once again proven its worth, and before long he had the majority of the carapace removed and the meat cooking over a small fire he’d started. 

As he waited, he looked down at the scars that ran across his ribs and side, a raised and red testimony to his incompetence.  He knew that they would heal and fade with time, but the lessons they taught were fresh in Kyle’s mind. 

Memories of his training came up, and he let out a soft chuckle as he thought about how far off he was from what he had trained to do.  His life was supposed to be one of study, healing, and teaching.  If he performed well he even had a shot to move into management and climb the internal medicine ladder within Central Health.  Those dreams were nothing more than dust at this point – even if by some miracle Central Health survived, he had been forced to invest into his physical attribute points which would be a major demerit, and even worse his Level 20 skill choice was used on REGENERATION which would be of no use in a hospital environment. 

It was very rare for people to hit Level 40, but even if he did without investing time to build merit towards his specialties it was unlikely he’d get a skill that would bring him back on course.  That was a hard pill to swallow – when things got back to any sort of normalcy, he would have virtually no value beyond emergency care and triage.  As unimportant as this was, it brought with it the bubbling sense of loss that Kyle had been trying to suppress.  Everything about his old life was gone, and even if he was able to make it through this, there was no guarantee he had anything left to look forward to.  What place was there in the world for people without the capacity to serve the greater good? 

Everything about their society was focused on each person’s contribution to the whole.  But without the support of the collective Kyle had to do what was in his own interest to survive.  He knew his grandfather had always been critical of the tenets of the Central Authority, but he hadn’t realized until now the extent that his survival flew in the face of those very beliefs.  He had focused on himself exclusively since his grandfather had passed, and now the implication of that decision had come home to roost. 

It was still hard, it was still overwhelming, but he remembered the look in Clark’s eyes before he passed.  He was proud of Kyle.  He believed in Kyle.  He sacrificed so that Kyle could move forward and have a chance to make it through.  In the current storm of emotions he was going through, his grandfather’s resolve was his rock.  Tomorrow would worry about itself, all he could do was take care of the here and now.  …or at least try to, because he was still incredibly sore.  Kyle stretched as best he could, ensured that REGENERATION was running and active, and then ate some beetle meat before going back to sleep.

Over the next two days Kyle’s routine repeated – his body still in a lot of pain and him not willing to risk traveling until he had recovered and prepared for whatever could be ahead.  With his resources in their current condition, he knew he would be forced into continued conflict with the beetles to survive, and banking on his martial prowess was just as likely to get him killed as not. 

Fortunately, the down time gave him an opportunity to do something he should have done weeks ago.  Using the stitching supplies in his first aid kit he used the discarded carapace from the beetles to fashion some crude armor.  It was ugly matte black, it was stinky, but it was functional.  He was actually impressed with how light and durable the carapace was, particularly against slashing and piercing.  Being able to prevent some of the types of injuries he’d been taking would be a big bonus, and one way or another he knew he wouldn’t be able to salvage much of the material from the shirt he’d worn in the last encounter.  He knew he would look quite a sight to any other survivors, scraps of fabric connecting pieces of beetle shell, but he knew he couldn’t afford to be picky at the end of the world.   

Finally, the morning of the third day after his encounter with the beetles he woke up feeling better.  His body still felt a little off.  The burning pain was gone, his headache receded, and he felt like the wild energy inside him had been brought under control.  He looked down at the carapace armor he’d made, and saw the plates softly reflect the morning sunlight.  The armor covered most of his torso, and he even had enough to make a couple of bracers for his forearms. 

He tried to make something protect his neck, but there simply weren’t any pieces that were flexible enough or shaped appropriately to make a decent guard without totally hampering his ability to turn his head.  The ruined remains of his shirt peeked through in a couple of places where he needed something to hold the carapace together, but overall he was satisfied.  With only beetle meat left to carry, he wrapped his newly cooked gains in his bundle, which he again affixed to the end of his rebar staff before hefting it over one shoulder.  He called over to C.H.A.D.D., and began to walk in the direction of the edge of the forest towards Cathwick.  There, he hoped, he’d be able to find some other survivors and figure out what to do next.

As they started off, Kyle felt like this was the time to broach the elephant in the room with his drone companion. “C.H.A.D.D., what’s the status of your basic operating function?”

[DR. MAYHEW, I… I… I…]  The drone went silent for a while as it floated along next to Kyle, before simply stating [ERROR ENCOUNTERED.  RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC.  REBOOTING DRIVERS.  OPERATION FUNCTION WITHIN GUIDANCE, NO ISSUES DETECTED.] 

Kyle looked suspiciously at the drone.  Something had definitely happened before, and just because the reboot may have temporarily cleared out whatever the issue was, Kyle suspected that the cause was likely to rear its head again.  Still, it was a relief that the drone seemed to be back to its usual activities, even though Kyle knew he should keep an eye on it. 

There had always been prohibition about trying to program AI with a sense of self, and if that was emerging Kyle knew there would be issues down the line.  More likely than not the drone’s speech patterns had taken damage and it was simply mimicking Kyle’s tone and turns of phrase, and the reboot had cleared things up.  Satisfied with his conclusion, the two continued their journey onward.

~~~

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