CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Occam’s Screwdriver

Day 81

Marcus stepped into the large building and passed the security station after showing his Breacher ID. He walked around for a few minutes, pausing occasionally to orient himself. He’d only been there once before, back when he and his uncle picked out his starter gear.

‘Let’s check the second floor first,’ he thought, heading towards the escalator. Gripping the rail with his right arm, he ascended slowly, glancing down at the growing crowd on the second floor. This time, he wore just a t-shirt, exposing the black Marks on his right arm. He ignored the dark spots, shifting his attention to the two dark grey notches his uncle had tattooed on his biceps. “It’s going to be three soon,” he muttered.

Reaching the second floor, Marcus began to walk past numerous stores selling weaponry, armor, and other items useful to a Breacher. He occasionally stopped near thick security windows to check out the large weapons on display. One weapon in particular caught his eye—a large, green-glowing mace.

‘Made from an Orb, huh?’ he thought, contemplating its power. Then he saw the price tag and quickly moved on. ‘I don’t have enough kidneys to sell to even be able to afford the handle.’

Marcus passed several stores before noticing one selling modern weaponry, including firearms. He entered, noting a Breacher in a security uniform gave him a weary look. Marcus ignored it and began to walk around inside, blending in with the few other customers that were inside. He saw dozens of pistols, shotguns, and rifles in all shapes and sizes. He recognized a few of the models, but most were custom-made for Breachers, sturdier and able to take much more of a beating. Up close, he inspected the thick security glass, doubting even an explosion could break through it.

Marcus wandered through the aisles, mentally listing the gear he’d buy if he had the credits and licenses. He knew regular gear wouldn’t cut it in the tougher Spheres, but he imagined the satisfaction of firing a shotgun with plenty of ammo in one of the easier, light blue Spheres. ‘Even the Salamanders looked cool with all of their guns,’ he thought before tearing his gaze away from the weapon. He ignored the shop employee chatting with another Breacher about the best gear for different jobs and focused on the shelves to his right.

He noticed the boxes of ammunition locked behind even thicker security glass. ‘Makes sense. Ammo’s the valuable stuff considering the materials that’s used to make it,’ he mused. He knew that, unlike melee weapons, ranged ones needed ammo infused with Glass or Orb pieces to inflict real damage and transfer the effects of a Breacher’s abilities. The boxes were neatly stacked, with a few bullets and shells displayed in front. He spotted a familiar type of ammo—the same kind he’d used back in the junkyard.

‘That brings back memories,’ he thought, suppressing a grin but also feeling a jolt of shame. He recalled how he had fired the pistol inside the hospital and stolen several pieces of Glass to wake himself up. ‘I really should pay the hospital back for the stuff I stole and the damage I caused.’

He leaned in a bit closer to look at the ammunition made from Glass and Orb fragments, the same size and shape as regular bullets but in different colors. ‘What kind of credits do you need to be comfortable shooting what is essentially a small fortune each time you pull the trigger? And what kind of monster threat would even justify it?’ The details below listed specs he only half-understood. He understood enough to realize that higher-tier bullets carried more kinetic potential and were more durable, not to mention could transfer an Ability far more effectively.

‘Maybe they retrieve and recycle the bullets afterward?’

Each type had license requirements, and the pricier ammo demanded higher qualifications. ‘No way I’m getting one of these anytime soon,’ Marcus thought, knowing he’d need more experience and pass several tests. He moved on to another aisle, spotting mines and various types of grenades on display. He smiled when he saw his brother’s company appearing on the lists now and again for the mechanical safety components inside the devices.

Marcus left the store, passing the suspicious-looking security guard. He shrugged it off and headed to another shop to grab something to eat. The smell of sweat cakes drew him in, and he couldn’t resist buying one, coated in sugar. He strolled around, enjoying the treat while checking out more shops.

On the second floor’s other side, Marcus noticed stores selling armor and clothes, spotting the one he and his uncle had visited before. Down on the first floor, he saw vehicles and guild representatives, including one that belonged to his sister’s guild. After finishing his snack, he decided to head up to the third floor, where stores specialized in support items. A small shop caught his eye, mostly because it didn’t look too expensive.

Inside, an older woman finished with a customer while Marcus browsed for a bit. He saw ropes, grappling hooks, flare guns, glow sticks, MREs, medical supplies, and even Mana batteries. The batteries varied in size and shape.

‘I think I’ve seen this type before,’ he thought, noticing a square battery. It reminded him of the ones formed at the hospital where he’d donated his Mana for credits.

“See anything you like?” the owner asked as she approached him.

Marcus nodded, tapping the glass counter. “I might be in the market for a Mana battery, preferably multiples, but I’m on a tight budget.”

The woman glanced at the chaotic black Marks on his face and arm. “Sure, I can help you with that. I’m Theresa.”

“Marcus, Alpha rank,” he said as she opened the cabinet and pulled out a few batteries.

“So, I take it you’re not associated with a guild, seeing as you are low on funds?” she asked while straightening the items.

“Yeah… I’m still relatively new to the whole Breacher thing, so I want to start slowly,” Marcus lied as she nodded. “I’ve got a wind Ability, but I need a bit more Mana to use it more often in the field.”

“I see,” she said, moving to another cabinet and pulling out several staves with Glass embedded in the center. “Staves are a bit more expensive but are better able to channel Mana and Abilities. You’d essentially be using up less Mana per cast, and it’s got Mana batteries inside of it as well. Might help with your Ability.”

Marcus picked one up and channeled a sliver of Mana through it, feeling it settle inside.

‘It’s similar to the one Julien uses,’ he thought, focusing on the Mana inside and feeling it flow back and forth.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit too expensive for me.” He carefully handed it back to her. “What about just Mana batteries?”

Theresa moved back to the cabinet housing the different types of batteries. “We’ve got plain ones you can carry. They’re the cheapest and come in different sizes and shapes. They’re sturdy enough to take a beating and still work, but unlike staves, you’ll put in more Mana than you can pull out. Still, they’re reliable.” She handed Marcus two types, letting him feel the difference.” She handed Marcus two different types, allowing him to feel the difference between the two of them.

“Surprisingly light,” he said, carefully handing it back, knowing he couldn’t afford to drop it.

She opened another cabinet, displaying batteries inside armor pieces and even a belt with steel protective plating. “You don’t have to hold these to interact with them. Direct skin contact gives the best Mana exchange, but these work well too.” She pointed to a sturdier cabinet with thick glass. “I’ve also got items that generate Mana—rings, amulets, things like that—but those might require you to take out a loan of credits.”

Marcus glanced at the items and paled at the price tags.

‘Made from Orb pieces, huh?’ he thought as she explained how they worked. His mind wandered to the three Orbs inside his robots, especially now that Specter could regenerate its own Mana.

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“I think the plain batteries will have to do for now, considering my budget,” he admitted. He checked the specs of the common batteries, picking one that could hold a decent charge and fit his budget. They eventually settled on a price, and Marcus bought three of them.

He swallowed hard after transferring the credits, realizing all his pay from the Salamanders and his work with Julien was gone.

‘Thank God I’ve been working with Felix the last two days in a row,’ he thought, smiling at the woman as she wrapped up his items and handed him a bill of sale and authenticity documents.

“Thanks again,” he said, leaving the store and checking his account, knowing his credits would dwindle even further before the day ended.

- - -

Marcus entered the small home improvement store, inhaling the scent of paint and oil. A small bell tinkled as he closed the door behind him. Instead of the grumpy old man Pete, a little boy, no older than five or six, stood behind the counter.

“You’re the new hire?” Marcus joked, walking over to the boy, who glanced up briefly before returning to his drawing. “Is Pete around?”

“You mean Grandpa?”

Marcus nodded as a woman walked in from the back, smiled at the boy, and then noticed him. “Oh, hi. I hope he wasn’t bothering you,” she said, making her way over to the child and gently patting his shoulder.

“Oh, he was,” Marcus lied, smiling at the boy’s shocked expression before it softened as the youth figured out it was a joke. “Is Pete around?”

As if on cue, the old man walked through the door in the back carrying a small bicycle. The man’s wide grin soured when he noticed Marcus standing there.

“You again,” the old man grumbled as he set the bike down and lifted the boy, who kicked playfully before being set on the bike. “The tire’s all fixed. Well, give it a try.”

The boy immediately took off on the bike, speeding through the store and nearly crashing into a stack of wood planks.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” the boy shouted as his mother just shook her head when her son nearly crashed for a second time.

Pete smiled, then shifted his attention back to Marcus, his expression hardening for a moment. “I suppose you want your order, huh?” the man muttered something about art projects and how heavy they were. He headed out back, leaving Marcus with an unsure expression.

“So, you’re the one getting Pete all riled up with weird projects. Breacher, right?” the woman asked pleasantly.

“What gave it away?” Marcus asked in an amused tone, fully aware of all the exposed Marks on his right side.

“Lucky guess,” she said, snatching her child just as he started his third lap, helping him off the bike.

“Strange to see Pete’s got more than just one type of emotion,” Marcus said, looking at the door leading to the backroom. “He usually just gives me a look of disappointment and irritation.”

“Oh, that’s just how he shows love to outsiders,” the woman said, letting out a soft chuckle. “Don’t let it get to you. He’s actually been quite excited as of late. Apparently, this ‘art project’ you two are working on has been keeping him entertained. I’ve even seen him working on it in the evening.” She tousled her son’s hair. “It’s good to see Pete like this. He’s had a rough couple of years.”

Marcus paused before carefully speaking up. “What happened?”

She hesitated, then looked at him. “His son, my husband, died four years ago. It’s been hard on me and Tim,” she said, glancing at her son.

“Pete’s been our rock through all of it, taking over my husband’s hardware store right away, even helping with daycare and paying some of the bills.”

“But?” Marcus asked as he watched her expression change.

“He lost his eldest son to the Great Impact years back, and now his youngest to cancer. He’s only got me and his grandson left. Pete’s working hard, but at his age, he shouldn’t have to. I know my husband would’ve wanted him retired, traveling the world.” She paused briefly, then added, “Pete might seem cold on the outside, but he’s a good man. And lately, he’s excited about work. I think you might’ve had a big—” she stopped when the door to the back swung open, and the old man walked in, carrying a large box of items. The box hit the counter with a thud that echoed through the store.

“Are those for me?” Marcus asked politely as he made his way over to the box.

“What did I tell you about asking dumb questions?” the man muttered, flipping the lid open to reveal dozens of pistons, smaller motors, and the spare parts Marcus had ordered.

Marcus flashed the woman a look, as if to say, See what I have to deal with? She smiled before giving the old man a hug and thanking him for fixing Tim’s bike. “Say goodbye to Grandpa,” she said as she dragged her child off the bike again.

Tim gave his grandfather a big hug before grabbing his bike again and following his mother out of the store.

“Cute kid.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The old man let out a puff of air as he tapped the total price on his register. “So, will that be it for today?”

“I need a few more sheets of steel, simple cameras and speakers, and other electronics if you’ve got it.”

“I don’t have many of those, but you can take a look. Otherwise, go bother people in an electronics store,” Pete said, leaving Marcus to grab a few sheets of steel. He placed them on the counter and waited for Marcus to return with the electronics a few minutes later.

“You look bigger,” the old man said suddenly, staring at Marcus as if noticing him for the first time.

“As in good? Or are you calling me fat?" Marcus asked, grinning as the old man muttered something while scanning the other items. ‘Stubborn old goat,’ Marcus thought as he just stared at the man for a while longer. “Did I ever tell you that you kinda remind me of grampa.”

“Don’t make me punch you in the face, kid,” the man said calmly. “Anything else?”

"Yeah, I’d like you to take a look at these," Marcus said, grabbing one of the Mana batteries and placing it on the counter. “Have you ever worked with one of these?”

“I know what they are, but I’ve never worked with them,” Pete admitted, carefully turning the battery over in his hands.

Marcus then showed the other two batteries, all similar in size and shape. “I’m looking to start a new addition to my art project,” he said, ignoring the old man’s muttered ‘bullshit’ and other words of endearment. “I want to be able to slot these things into something.”

“Slot?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, like a cartridge. You press it in, it stays in place. Press again, and it pops out?” Marcus asked while gesturing the motion with his hands. “I want to be able to swap them out in case of an emergency. It’s like…” He paused, searching for a comparisons. “Like those old SIM cards you could push into a mobile phone and then push in again to pop them out. You’ve used mobile phones before, right?”

The old man stayed silent, staring at Marcus, whose shit-eating grin grew wider by the second.

“Yes, I’ve used a mobile phone before. How old do you think I am?” Pete finally asked, clearly annoyed when Marcus just shrugged in response. “Oh, piss off.”

The old man grabbed a piece of paper and a pen before sketching a makeshift design resembling what Marcus needed. “I take it you don’t want the battery exposed, but protected?" Without waiting for an answer, he sketched a steel casing, showing how the battery would fit inside, connected with springs and a slide-in latch. “You meant an old-fashioned Push-Push connector, but this design offers more protection for your fancy battery.”

“Looks awesome,” Marcus said, picturing the design incorporated in his robot. ‘It probably needs a cover so a monster can’t push the battery out. Still, the chest plate’s protective plating should be enough.’

“So, how many of these do you need?” the old man asked, only to shake his head when he noticed Marcus grabbing the battery and pressing it against his ribs. It only got worse when he noticed him grabbing a second battery, and then a third.

“Three on each side for now—so six in total,” Marcus answered.

The old man paused again before shaking his head. “You know you’re a weird lad, right?”

“Thanks.”

“Wasn’t a compliment, lad,” Pete muttered, finishing the touches on his design while ignoring Marcus’s feedback. “I can’t promise it will be fancy, but it should work. I can have a mockup ready in a few days. And yes, you’ll have to pay me in advance for my time. Anything else?”

“Yeah, about our original art project, I was—”

“Your project. Don’t lump me in with the likes of you,” Pete corrected, putting down his pencil and exhaling dramatically. “Go on.”

“Well, you the previous project—the one with the steel frame and plastic plating? I had an idea to make a newer design. I want to make the exterior easier to remove and expand the area it covers, hiding most of the interior.”

“Why?”

“To hide the internal parts from prying eyes and repair any external bits I damage,” Marcus lied, pointing at his arm and showing the design he wanted to go for. “I want to be able to swap out the exterior fast, without screws and bolts. Could a mechanism work?”

“You want to swap screws and bolts for fragile mechanisms? Humanity has been using screws and bolts for the last few decades for a reason,” Pete countered, his tone flat.

Marcus held up his hands in a soothing way. “I get that, I do. But my project requires more flexibility, and I might not have a screwdriver on me at all times, or I could lose the screws and bolts during… activities.”

The old man stared at Marcus, shaking his head. “So you want an internal locking mechanism to hold these in place. But your whole project doesn’t use electricity, tubes, or cables, so it's mechanical in nature. So, dozens, if not hundreds of smaller connection points that need to be aligned perfectly, has to be sturdy enough, and potentially run into dozens of other problems that a simple screw or bolt won’t have.”

Marcus nodded hesitantly, realizing how stupid his idea sounded when he heard it repeated back to him. “Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot,” the man said before opening a drawer, grabbing an old screwdriver, and sawing off its tip. He held the tip against the end of his finger. “Your ‘art project’ has fingers with motors in each knuckle and the wrist. Just hide this inside one of the fingers and cover it up with a hollowed-out exterior you can pull off. I’d suggest the pinky.” He then shoved the screwdriver pieces into Marcus’s hands. “And screws and bolts are easy to replace. Just use the same sizes and types and keep a bunch of them in your pockets. Hell, even keep several spare bolts inside of your artwork.”

Marcus stared at the screwdriver for a moment, lost in thought as he realized how much more sense it made to install small tools in his robots themselves. ‘It would be so much easier to do so, not to mention sturdier. They could do the repairs out in the field, on each other or themselves,’ he thought before he ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks redden for a moment. “I’m an idiot.”

“Occam’s razor, lad. You’re trying to over-engineer and overcomplicate things. There’s a reason the basic things usually work and last a lot longer.” The man cracked a smile. “But I agree with you on the whole idiot part.”

Marcus nodded, pulling out his phone to pay, but Pete spoke again. “By the way, you owe me a new screwdriver.”