This time it would be different, he was on the lookout for a very special type of survivor. The ones who had gotten to the underground bunkers or been stationed there when the bombs flew, and the earth cracked apart with the fury of a dozen suns.
They’d be the ones with still working showers given that the limited nuclear exchanges had been over in several hours, he was hoping that they’d still have hairdressers as well.
They seemed to survive most apocalypses as in his personal opinion, they surely had the gods of styled hair watching over them. He didn’t know if fashion designers were the same but surely, they had a similar level of protection given how people liked to dress up in other places he had visited.
His bright yellow radiation suit made him stand out in the now dust-ridden fields surrounded by dead animals and broken-apart buildings. The dust clouds hadn’t had time to settle yet as the nuclear exchange had only ended a few hours previously.
The suit was fully equipped with a filtration backpack, full chemical, and biological reinforcement seals, built-in boots, and gloves along with a built-in respirator with a mask that was self-sealing.
‘Did a brilliant job with the attention to detail on this suit Casey. I’m still trying to stick to the script so no need to respond just yet.’ said Horus.
Any tears would be instantly closed, and the self-repairing function was extremely slow but would eventually work. There was no need to change the respirator filters as it was meant to be large for fifty years on the outside.
Casey had done a great job in building it and the man had lent a hand with part of the design to make sure that it didn’t come across as over-engineered.
The technology needed to be advanced enough to be desirable but at the same time realistic enough to be possible.
If Horus was walking around in a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops he might get some seriously annoying questions. There was no way he was going to deal with those until he’d gotten his interviews out of the way.
The protection suit in short was seriously expensive by local standards and not readily available to around ninety-five per cent of the population.
Highly advanced technology like it was usually only available to extreme elites at least in this reality. They might have better equipment lying around the country in forgotten research facilities, but he doubted it unless a bunch of aliens had decided to visit, and they’d managed to reverse-engineer their technology.
For the sake of the spirits, the locals had used planes to drop nuclear bombs rather than missiles so while their research and development were pretty good there were still some significant gaps. Rockets required a far higher level of engineering and resources which was only possible either through resident geniuses or when society had reached a certain standard of living.
He recalled reading that before the war started all three sides had been focusing on more defensive measures after all until the accident with the coffee machine and the General having a bad day with his pet rabbit biting him. The man had read the incident reports himself; it’d made for light reading before he had started his little trek.
‘Pretty standard stuff. Military, blah blah. Countries trapped in a five-hundred-year war. Situation out of control, someone pressed a button and then nuclear bomb runs. A few hundred thousand intially dead.’ muttered Horus.
All of the documents had been classified as eyes only with a security clearance, but he’d managed to get around that with the help of his friend, it hadn’t been that hard to find the records on file even when they’d been made of a paper-based substance.
The planet had already been scanned so grabbing a bit extra had been a small deal on the whole and it hadn’t made any difference to the war. People had been too busy panicking and trying to escape the cites to pay any attention to a bunch of secure files vanishing into thin air.
An ambulance was in his way and the man saw that it had flipped over with the remains of medical supplies strewn outside. He ignored the breaking sound of glass that he heard when he walked over them. A few blood packs exploded beneath his heavy rubber boots but failed to touch the surface of the man as though it had avoided him deliberately and instead spread around him and fell in droplet to the charred asphalt.
The true capabilities of the man would have made most people pause if they had realised it. Even the ABC protection suit the man was wearing would have cost tens of millions at least in the local currency of the planet but it wasn’t the unusual thing that would have made any normal person stop and pause to take it in. He made for a far more unusual sight than that.
Not that anyone was around or alive to watch him walk. Nor was it the fact that he was happily walking across the wastes of a ruined planet while stopping to take photos from his bright orange camera that hung around his neck that wasn’t even the next strange thing about him.
No, he could have been assumed to have gone mad and simply let the comfort and safety of a private fallout shelter in exchange for one last glimpse of a world passed by before he slowly died of starvation, radiation sickness and thirst.
A lone madman in a world gone insane through out-of-control weapon usage who wanted to experience a few days of beauty and observation before their body collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. It would have made a great story if anyone was still alive around to record it and turn it into a piece of fiction.
It was the one accompanying him that made for the strangest possible sight.
‘I am a lone survivor scientist. Need to stay in character. I’m trying my best here Casey and you’d better not be recording this. You hear me? Do not record my paltry acting skills.’ said Horus.
No companion was walking alongside him, nor was he part of a heavily armed radiation-proofed military convoy or a makeshift caravan driving a protective tank that was fully enclosed. It was the fact that alongside the man was a piece of floating and shiny-new luggage. A single item that would have made anyone look twice if they had seen in and been able to walk in the radioactive hellscape. If their eyes didn’t melt in their sockets from the extreme temperatures that fluctuated wildly or were hit by the traces of constantly falling debris in the sky.
‘Casey?’ queried Horus.
[I’m here Sir. Just running through a few boring surface scans. Nothing to disturb you yet.]
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The man carried on walking but nodded his head in response. He was trying his best to navigate the press of vehicles on the Highway, occasionally clambering over them to keep moving forward. He was thankful that his companion was with him although the sight of it may have made survivors consider that they had their lost their minds.
It was a single piece of luggage. A suitcase that accompanied him. It was unusual in that it was hovering approximately fifty centimetres above the ground. No dust not dirt seemed to settle on a particular item of luggage, and it remained entirely pristine. The fact that it openly talked would have made any survivor doubt their hearing or consider it a device created by advanced science.
‘I’ll need that camera now Casey.’ said Horus.
[Yes Master Horus, please take it when ready. Please be aware of the presence of any thieves.]
Reaching out a hand the man opened the suitcase as it floated in the area and after a moment, he pulled the possession that he needed the most after a global nuclear exchange.
His quantum camera, in theory, was able to take unlimited photos and video footage and then be uploaded straight into the suitcase for immediate recall and editing. At least that was the story that he’d prepared in advance for any curious enough to question him.
In reality it was like the rest of his clothing, a bare prop without function which worked in this reality simply because he wanted it to do so.
‘Seriously? They’re going to be scavenging through ruins right now, not walking across a major Highway. I do look pretty rich in this suit but still. Back to work for now. I need to get back into character. Wait, do I need to be carrying supplies with me? I could be dragging along or driving a vehicle with the word supplied printed on the side. Maybe even have a bit of popular music playing. Like an ice cream van of the apocalypse except I don’t sell anything. Need a decent tune though...’ said Horus.
He recalled a song that he’d picked up on the trails remaining of airwaves in this place. The song sang about not wanting to set the world aflame although they’d done a decent enough job of that already. He’d seen global firestorms before and this wasn’t a bad start, although the ash and dust usually covered any outbreaks of fire before it could get started.
[Sir Horus, I do not believe a vehicle would be a realistic option unless you classified yourself as military personnel carrying supplies. Driving an ice cream truck without damage could cause cognitive damage towards the local population and instill either myth or rumours which would spread and then affect the natural cultural environment.] said Casey as the suitcase flew up into a higher position a kilometre upwards and stationed itself in the dust clouds above.
‘I know...the Tourism Board would wreck me if I cause too much accidental damage to the mind in the world of this place. The planet is small enough and the population isn’t too high. I’ll stick to the suit for now, it can be explained away easily enough. Not that I planned to let anyone take a close look at it. The technology isn’t too far beyond is it?’ asked Horus.
Despite the position of the suitcase high up in the radioactive dust clouds with occasional extreme winds Horus heard the voice of his best friend and closest ally as though it was perched on his shoulder.
[I would advise Sir to continue the minimal approach. Despite the relatively small population density of this place
Horus couldn’t care about all the radioactive dust in the atmosphere as it wouldn’t damage his modified body but he did like to dress for the part when he visited a new world ravaged by the apocalypse.
This time was relatively simple and once he’d seen the design, he had just asked Casey to make one that would be considered cutting edge on the technology level of this planet. Perhaps far too advanced as he doubted that they had the abilities to produce an ABC suit as good as his, well to be fair he had a CBRN suit really, but if the civilisation had exited for another thirty or so years then they would have been able to produce it.
Give or take a dozen years added on but he’d neglected including too much technology in the suit, yes it was self-sealing and rather than using rubber-coated materials he’d opted for reinforced nylon with the charcoal-lined interior but it was lacking any fancy gadgets or weaponry.
Not as though he’d added in lasers or a jetpack to fly around in so if anyone saw him, he could just claim it as one of the few prototypes in existence that came from a long-forgotten hidden development department deep underground which had luckily survived the nuclear holocaust. A lone survivor who was alive to bring hope, that was how the man wanted his presence to be felt when he met others.
He liked to make sure that he didn’t overshadow people and didn’t want to overstep his technological boundaries. The tourism board smiled on trying to preserve the original state of ruined worlds much as possible without introducing advanced outside variables such as technology ahead of time.
Horus had planned far ahead for his story on this job and Casey had been kind enough to work out a reasonable script for him to follow. He had a whole backstory and everything to get into the role. His team had been trapped in the development department when war broke out where they had worked there to utilise their diminishing resources to build the prototype suit which would give extreme protection from radiation.
In the script provided he’d been the one to draw the longest straw so had earned the right to use the advanced spec protective suit. But as soon as he’d left the safety of the small deep underground facility to explore the wastes and report back there’d been an explosion and a final radio signal from those few scientists left behind who wished him good luck and had decided to end their lives and destroy their existing research than carry on any further.
Their loss had saddened him but filled him with a mission that he would see through for their sake, to find other survivors and helped them build new versions of his suit which would help them to survive and eventually repopulate a nuclear-blasted world. Yeah, it sounded a bit rubbish to him still but he'd try his best to follow it. He just had to try and get the mannerisms of a pacifist scientist right, to get deeper into the character that he was trying to portray. Ideally, better conversations would be had if he could accomplish that.
He'd planned a little bit further with his supposed role in this world when he’d finally meet some decent survivors who could carry on an actual conversation rather than dying in front of his eyes.
He was callous enough already to be considerate and ignore them but it wasn’t as though he was here to rescue people and lead them to safe havens. He had a job to do so as according to his cover story was going to be an intelligent scientist who used one of the only prototypes to undergo a secret mission given by the leader of the country before the bombs dropped. He needed to fulfil it on behalf of his dead comrades who had sacrificed their chance at life for him.
He had an entire reason for lacking any arms as he was a pacifist scientist. No guns, no knives, or grenades. Survival was down to careful movements and keeping an eye out for potential threats. The fact that there was nothing on this planet that was liable to hurt him was beside the point.
His lack of weaponry would lead to that as his supplies, but he could always just ask Casey to fly over, and he’d reach in and pull-out whatever materials he needed that were on the level of technology of this world but with a slight upgrade.
If at all possible, he’d certainly prefer not to because as a freelancer he certainly wasn’t going to be paid for additional expenses even if the cost of products would be minuscule compared to his actual payment for completing the job.
He was on a timer here and didn’t care much for wasting his time getting into fights with military units or individuals with weapons gone mad or out looking for an enemy to fight. His advanced ABC suit wasn’t built for combat situations, it wasn’t part of his script.
If he had wanted to become a death-dealing machine then he would have gone to one of the robot uprising realities instead. All the surviving humans in those places knew how to fight before they could even walk.
That or they all died.
Besides, they got average reality views at best. This minor planet gave Horus a chance at least. The smaller ones usually did.