"The rise of individual grievance narratives and how they are expressed are impacting society's ability to find common ground. Increasingly, it is leading to a normalization of provocative and inflammatory behaviors contrary to community standards and liberal democratic values."
Australian government statement reporting an increase in the terror threat level, 2024
***
I grabbed my P5-AT and eliminated the monsters with a couple quick shots. As more of the earthy freshness scent I’d come to relate to dead antithesis flowed over us, I turned to the ladies. “There will be more behind those. It's time to get ready for the next wave. Everyone get behind the console.” I handed the P5-AT rifle to Ginny. “Have you ever used a rifle before?” She shook her head. I looked at Katlyn and Tara, who both shook their heads.
“Okay, quick, quick lesson.” I showed them the very basics of the weapon, mostly how to hold it and aim, how to change the magazines, and where the safety was. “Remember to keep the dangerous end that way.” I pointed toward the machinery. “And to only use bursts of shots. I’ll show you more when we have time.
“Tara, you’ll have to stick with a pistol.” I held one out to her.
She pulled back her hands, shaking her head. “No, no guns, no. No. No.” She even stepped away from me, back against the wall. Looking at her, I realized that she was younger than I had assumed—maybe mid-teen instead of the low twenties of the other two.
I quickly pulled back my hand and set the weapon on the console. “It’s ok; you don’t have to. It’s alright to hide behind the console while we’re fighting.”
“We’ve found that she’s deathly afraid of killing anything,” Ginny explained.
I was still trying to think about how to respond to that when more M-3s rushed through the machinery and pushed the thought aside. I lined them up and finished them as quickly as possible. The fire from Kaitlyn and Ginny was less effective. Ginny had a habit of flinching with each burst, while Kaitlyn was leading too much when the monster was moving. That wave ended with four M-4s, two of which tried to approach by crawling along the ceiling. The drop lights in the room lit the floor clearly, but only some dim reflected light reached the roof, which was further cluttered by pipes, vents, and other industrial crap.
As the last M-4 fell, I once again felt the visual fog lift from my sight as Corie reset the focus of my glasses. “Corie, what’s the progress on affording that first upgrade?” My temples throbbed, a sure sign of a headache in the making. I glanced down at the tablet, which was lying on the console.
“Current points: 511. One or two more waves of antithesis like that, and you’ll be there. It helps that you are supplying ammo to the girls. Their kills generate a few points for you.”
I hummed in thought. “Part of that upgrade is for new glasses, right? Will those be compatible with my tablet?”
“Yes. That’s one of the choices to make. There are lower-end sets the tablet can support for now. You will quickly outgrow them, and they will need to be replaced. The cheapest that can handle the max processing by the tablet would be 25 points.”
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“Let’s go with that for now. Using this new rifle with the blur effect is giving me a headache.”
"Purchased: BCG Mk I, Combat variant
Cost: 25 Remaining points: 516”
A small rectangular box dropped onto the console. From it, I pulled out a pair of glasses. The thick black rims turned into even thicker stems that folded out to hook around and under the ears and secure them to the face. I put them on and started the sync with my tablet. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ginny staring at me.
“I thought Samurai gear was supposed to be cool? What are those?” She blurted out.
“Those are so uncool they don’t even pass the event horizon. They are just plain ugly.” Kaitlyn chimed in.
Tara, still huddled behind the console, looked up at me, not even trying to suppress her giggles.
I looked at my tablet and saw that the mirror app had been pulled up. On the screen, I saw my own dark hair, lightly tanned skin, and the combat glasses that were, I had to admit, ugly. The thick black rims only emphasized the presence of the glasses, and the large circles clashed with the lines of my face. “Really? You couldn’t dress them up any? And don’t give me any lines about the look working for Buddy Holly. It didn’t.”
On the tablet, in large type that I was sure the others could read from the other end of the room, she replied, “I wanted to be sure you didn’t get comfortable with them. These are still crap that’s little better than you can find on the street. You’ll soon have much better options available.”
At that moment, the glasses’ UI came up with a clarity leagues above my old pair. The few simple apps and macro buttons I’d been forced to use were diminished to a quarter their size, leaving my field of view uncluttered and clear. I pulled up a text app, changed the type size down by half, and could still read the text. It was amazing. After a literal lifetime of being blocked from the augmented world, I could finally start to participate. The options were amazing.
“I’m syncing the Tribulator through your tablet now. Let me know if the resolution needs to be adjusted.” Corie’s text hovered in the lower right corner of the glasses, resting on the frame. I looked at the rifle in my hands and, for the first time, willingly accepted a data pop-up.
“Corten Systems 5.56 assault rifle “The Tribulator” Mk 1,” I read. As I raised the rifle, a circle appeared in the glasses, showing the aimpoint of the weapon. I was tempted to stand there and play with the new controls of my glasses, but an M-3 ran past the generators in the room below us. Its claws scratched on the hard cement as it skewed through the turn at a full run.
“How are we doing on ammo?” I asked as the Tribulator barked, hitting the running monster in the lower eye. Four more followed, each of which died as soon as I had a clear shot.
“I’m down to a clip,” Kaitlyn said.
I winced. Taking off my backpack, I replied, “You mean a mag or magazine.” The correction was a habit from years of teaching. I pulled out several pre-loaded clips for the P5-AT and showed how they were used to refill the magazine quickly.
Ginny handed me a couple more empty magazines, which emptied the box I had in my bag. “Tara,” I said, turning to the woman sitting behind us. “Are you fine with reloading the ammo? Or will that go against your no guns thing? We’re going to need more ammo, and it will help if you can fill the magazines.” She looked for a minute at the empty mag I held out, nodded, and grabbed it. After a few mistakes, she caught on to how to fill the mags, and I purchased a box of each type of ammo we were using.
“Kaitlyn and Ginny, when you feel you’re nearly done with a mag, reload and toss the used one to Tara. Some people like to count their shots, but it’s better to swap out early than run out when the press is on. Tara, when you finish filling a mag, set it on the console. If the boxes run out, let me know.” I placed my tablet back in my pocket. "I’ll be right back.”
I took two steps towards where I had come in before Tara lunged up and grabbed my leg like a small child. “No, no, don’t leave. Please, we’ll help. Honest,” she begged, tears starting to fall again.