Apparently, the announcement boxes fade after a bit. Good to know I don’t have to manually click them away.

So I’m left just standing in the bathroom, flashlight in hand-branch (or branch-hand, I think I need to figure the naming yet), looking at myself in the mirror.

Well, I can already guess some parts of what the status screen is going to show.

Let’s get it over with: Status.

My mind whizzes for the briefest of moments, and a small mental picture of a blue screen realises itself in front of my view. It follows what appears to be the centre of my vision, so I have no way to miss it at least.

Status Screen - Basic information

Player name

13241 – name change available

 Gender

Unspecified, see notes

Race

Hybrid

Subtype

Human-Plant hybrid

Titles

N/A

Class

None

Power Level

4

Traits and Skills (click for more info)

Plant body

Increased water resistance

Heavily reduced fire resistance

Decreased ice resistance

Photosynthesis

Increased regeneration in Sunlight

Dulled senses

Resistant to minor injuries

Increased regeneration at high health

Regrowth

May regenerate limbs and organs

Abilities (click for more info)

Root

Root yourself to the ground. Allows the body to absorb nutrients from the soil below you. Bonuses:

Vastly increased health regeneration (affected by soil quality)

Increased upper body strength

(Partially) Immune to dislocation

Activates trait Underground Detection

Underground Detection – allows user to sense objects and creatures within a small radius

May be cancelled at will, or when a sufficient uprooting force is applied

Oooo…k. That’s a lot of information. And somehow, not that much. Can I get a witty introduction first? Overlords?

You’re half-plant, you’re a joke already

Ah right up my alley, that’s the spirit. Thanks, Overlords.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

You’re welcome

First things first, the numbers there don’t seem to be ANY relevant numbers here. I don’t even know what the rating is supposed to be based on. Considering I was able to withstand a wall being blown off towards me, I’d say I’m leaning more towards the tankier side so that just might be it. It’s confusing if anything.

Maybe I can ask? What is the power level?

Power level: Algorithm determined rating that ranges between 1 and 10. Decimals may be included.

Current algorithm version: PWLVL0.9.0.0.1

Hmmm. And I’m a 4 based on what? Is that the baseline for whatever it is I am now?

Can I call you anything, oh great status profile?

Well, that shut it up.

Back to the matters at hand. 

The messages mentioned day seven, meaning I’ve been knocked out for at least a week, which would imply that everyone had a head start. I assume that whatever these guys did, I assume that there would be something weird going on outside. 

Especially since barely a sound came through the vast open space that was once my window. Which would be understandable if I didn’t live next to the interstate and the train station. It’s simply too quiet. 

My mouth runs dry as I dejectedly try to intake any amount of water from my apartment. My fridge contains only a small bottle, which I would prefer to take with me on my inevitable exit from the building, seeing there is no reason to believe this is just going to pass. It never does in the things I’ve read, and this seems similar.

I remember I put away a six-liter bottle of water under the sink to use when the plumbing is under maintenance. It will have to do for now. 

I fumble the bottle out of the corner, my hands too large and stocky to get a proper grip on the plastic. The next few tries yield better results, and a bottle now rests on the working surface of the kitchenette. I unscrew the lid of the bottle and raise it to above my head, not bothering to try with glasses for now. I’m thirsty and could also use something to hydrate my skin, it feels incredibly dry. 

The water pours out, splashing my face, as my open mouth takes in gulps of water at a time, and my skin refreshes from a simple room temperature liquid running over it. 

A puddle forms beneath my feet as I intake all the water I can as fast as possible, the wave of relaxation washing over me. My feet start to tingle, as I look below me, the dulled senses my new skin provides leaving me only partially aware of the changes in or around me.

The roots on my legs shiver briefly before opening to reveal smaller strands hidden below the brownish bark. The white strands branch outwards into the puddle, as another wave of relief overwhelms my mind.

The puddle of water is soon sucked dry by the thin roots, and I lift my legs one at a time, the bark again covering the sensitive roots within.

Well, that provides an answer to how much of a plant I actually am.

My thirst sated, I try to think of some step-by-step approach to whatever this situation is. I step back into the ruined room, the clear view from my window giving me a panoramic image of my city. Or what it remained of it. Vats of smoke are coming out from various places as the once tall buildings seem partially destroyed in the distance. Some fires could be seen in the background but I can’t discern anything else from that. The three bridge connecting the parts of the city are all severely damaged or missing in one case. I try not to step too close to the edge, my (I believe rational) fear of heights coming over me.

I need to get out of this place. That requires some preparation beforehand.

I move around my flat surrounded by ghastly silence, opening every drawer that wasn’t ruined by the debris. I’m surprised so much remained, to be honest. I’m even more surprised I slept through it all.

The scavenger hunt of the remains of my apartment brings me to a paltry total of zero edible food. At least I have salt.

Wait, there are 2 cans of tuna and a beer. That goes into the bag. I put a small blanket into the bag as well, which I may decide to throw away, considering that I haven’t actually felt that cold while being basically naked all this time. Not that I need to hide anything for decency, the roots are doing a grand job of that, as I still can’t find anything that would point out to my missing… parts. That’s what Unspecified gender implies, I guess.

Oh right, clicking for notes.

Introduction message

Human-Plant hybrid

User 13241

Your body is currently somewhere between plant and human. That includes metabolism functions such as breathing, nutrition, excretion, and reproduction. 

Breathing: User 13241 currently uses breathable air to fill its lungs. Photosynthesis during the day requires carbon dioxide and sufficient amounts of water. The manufactured oxygen is released back into the air and cannot be stored for emergencies. 

Nutrition: User 13241 currently uses both types of nutrition intakes. Rooting allows for essential minerals and water to enter through the limb system. Digestion of food yields more energy and increases core body temperature. 

Excretion: User 13241 can use the Rooting subsystem to purge the body of unnecessary byproducts of metabolism. The ending of the digestive system has been terminated. 

Reproduction: Currently unavailable. 

This section may improve upon self-inspection, exploration, or the Overlords’ whim.

That answered something but didn’t help with the thing I was asking about. 

No use in crying over spilt milk. Speaking of milk, I just realised the carton next to my fridge is unopened and consumable. Into the bag, it goes.

Let’s change the name I guess. I already decided on Treant, and the opinion hasn’t changed.

I try to remember what I was actually called, but only a fog remains over any semblance of my name as I wrangle through my brain for answers. It could be temporary amnesia, possibly shock, but most likely a consequence of whatever happened to me during the past week. 

So, Treant it is.

Name change successful 

Status profile updated 

Name change no longer available

A ding resonates through the air, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one able to hear it.

I guess that’s it. I’m a Human-Plant Hybrid named Treant now, and this is my life. Where's MTV?

I look at my arms. The prospect of using any kind of a tool is beyond my current hand coordination, so I guess I’ll have to use my bark hands. I chuckle at the self-made pun, then go back to doing something, anything, useful. Jokes only go so far.

A linen bag over my shoulder with the little possessions I decide I can use at this point (some clothes put for good measure, just in case my anatomy decides to come back) and basic provisions of food and water that I could find around me, I take my branchy hand and unlock my home for what seems to be the last time in a while.