“The Bloom intervals have become shorter these past few weeks,” Daizo said.

Khalia frowned her black eyebrows at the chart projected on the wall.

The office was very dim, save the projector light and Khalia’s other holographic screens at the table further back. The concrete walls were wide and smooth with mixed-in metal and plastic parts. Khalia sat at a big round table in the front part of the room, intended for meetings, meanwhile Daizo stood across from her as close to the entrance as he could while still being able to operate the projector console.

“Walking Fungals have been seen by almost all of the Runners sent out. However, some report different variations,” read Daizo from his personal little holographic screen above his left mechanical forearm. Everyone could see he hasn’t recovered from the loss of his partner, but he insisted work would take his mind off things. A full week in, he only looked worse. “One has been spotted near the Forest district, another in the Gardens. There’s also one group that hasn’t returned from the Grove yet, so we’re waiting on their report.”

“The Forest? We had to expand so far already?” Khalia pinned her brown eyes into his.

The screen on his bionic arm scrolled itself up without any physical command. “Adrian volunteered. He brought the anesthetics needed for his sister’s operation.”

Khalia clicked her tongue.

“He’s a tough kid. Family matters to him,” Daizo closed down his holographic console and acknowledged Kahlia’s biting glance. The remark was directed against her, and she knew it.

“What different variations?” She asked and looked back to the projected text, avoiding the bait for now.

“One was large and strong, possibly able to tear down walls according to Adrian. The other one was of regular size and supposedly just watched them, but didn’t interact in any way.”

“Walls?” She asked, eyes wide, but Daizo just shrugged. “Shit.”

Khalia rested her head in her arms and pondered for a few seconds.

“What do you think it might mean? Do you think the fungus is evolving? Maybe we’ve been holed up for too many years,” she said. They didn’t have the chance to expand their discovery area on the surface before. Up until now they made do with their reserves. The research of safe tools and materials to be used up on the surface was slowed down by more pressing search for solutions down in the shelter.

Finally, a year back, the Runners were deployed. These scavenge runs to loot pharmacies and shops in the adjacent districts, where the Fungals appeared only rarely, were able to stock the hidden community fairly well and safely. Though it seemed no method lasted long.

“I know as much as you,” Daizo answered briefly.

She let out a short, desperate chuckle. “After almost a decade of being locked up down here, forced to steal what’s left above ground, of course the fucking mold comes up with more shit to throw.” Khalia stood up and began her lioness walk from one end of the table to the other. “How did it not die off yet? There can’t be any more power except for this place in the whole damn city!”

“Well, I don’t know how it still lives, but it doesn’t seem to expand. Technically, it’s us who’s overstepping its territory. The Pulse Emitter that Abril and Isaac invented keeps the area around us still safe.”

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“Are you serious right now? Overstepping territory?!” Khalia stopped in her tracks, he clearly took her out of her thought process.

“Well, from an ecological point of view, yes,” he didn’t look at her. He knew her dumbfounded face when someone said something eons away from her opinions on the subject too well.

“Yeah? Well,” she mocked him, “leave Merril’s essays safe in the fiction folder next time, where I keep them for when we run out of options. It might be interesting, but it doesn’t help getting all philosophical when our lives are on the line.”

He really did read Merril’s ecological findings and commentaries in the past week. Getting to know how species interact and work together was oddly comforting to him. She wrote a lot about niche theories, past extinction waves, and natural selection; this catastrophe for humanity was just another step forward in nature’s path in her eyes.

“Besides, the Emitter doesn’t keep out the spores,” she stood calm now with her arms crossed.

Daizo’s broad shoulders tensed up. “You always make a decision. I’m sure you’ll have no problem giving orders even now.”

Khalia watched him standing like a soldier, emotionless or perhaps distracted, with hands behind his back. Her mind was drowsy after the little emotional tornado. Dark ebony circles had formed around her eyes, but they were no match to Daizo’s. She brought her own bionic hand up for a quick neck massage, pulling her short dreadlocks to the side.

“Look, Daizo, I know it’s hard. I understand that you’re angry with me. Fuck, everyone is. But we can’t risk everything by letting someone inside covered in spores. I’m trying to keep us alive,” her voice was calm, almost pleading, as she tried to estimate his state of mind. “And it’s been working until now. You tell me what you would do if our roles were reversed.”

“Someone,” Daizo scoffed to himself. He briefly returned her gaze—still without an expression. “They’re not, though, you made sure of that during the polls.”

Khalia lowered her voice and leaned forward, looking even more pitiable. “I’m sorry, Dai. I really am. The whole thing with Leo is…fucked up at the least. But he said it himself—it’s for the better.”

They held eye contact for a few silent moments, and she watched the battle of resentment towards her behind his eyes. “You watched the recording.”

“Of course I did, I’m the Chief, I should know what’s going on,” she said. To him her voice sounded like nails scratching on a blackboard. Khalia walked around the room closer to him and leaned on the table previously dividing them. “Did you forget what happens to the infected?”

He stood still, watching her from the side.

“A single speck could ruin us all, Daizo. Let’s say we don’t matter, and we disappear, like Merril apparently dreams of so much... Even if it can’t take over our adjustments, the fungus could take down the systems,” her tone grew quiet and she matched his statue form. “How would the kids grow food if the irrigation and UV lamps turned off? Or the sewage system? Or the printers? Where would they get clean filters for the ventilation?”

Daizo’s jaw formed a firm outline in a wave of animosity towards her face. Khalia was right, he couldn’t dispute that, but neither could he find the power to say it. So, he cursed everything and everyone. Maybe if he died when it all started, he could’ve avoided all of this. He cursed the fungus, he cursed that they let themselves be trapped in the middle of Apolis, an electric paradise. He cursed the LIMBs creator. Not even throwing this damn arm away would help him; his elbow nerve endings were already an easy way in for the spores.

Only people with non-modified bodies were mostly safe from the plague. In most cases, the body’s regular voltage wasn’t enough for the fungus to grow successfully, but such cases also existed. Simply everyone was at risk, adjusted or not, and everyone could be a transmitter. That’s why only Runners, and only with proper gear, could be sent outside—teenagers and young people who hadn’t had the chance to replace their arm or leg with a tech prosthetic before the world became a living hell.

“He’ll survive, Dai,” Khalia looked him in the furious eye, her voice void of previous frustration. ”Leo’s healthy, strong, and very intelligent. If anyone can make it out there, it’s him. Besides, it’s only been a week.”

“I know,” he clenched his teeth—first movement in a while.

“I’m sorry,” her face showed genuine repentance. “All politics and mold aside, I’m still your friend, you can talk to me, Dai.”

“Don’t call me that again,” he turned to leave the office, jaw still tense, but something changed. The dark cloud in his expression was not there anymore. “And just as a friend, I’m telling you to fuck off.”