On the first day, nothing had really changed, aside from the obvious.
On day two, there were occasional power outages throughout the country, usually fixed within just a few hours.
On day three, power outages were more widespread. But his satellite phone, powered by a solar charger, could still access the web just fine, all the information of the world still at the tips of his fingers.
On day four, the outages finally started to affect major server farms. Most search engines showed a simple error message.
On day five, Wikipedia went down. It didn’t come back up.
Ryan stared down at the packet of seeds in his hands. Something so trivial a few days ago, the knowledge of how deep to plant common garden flora, how often to water them, and how soon they could be harvested -- now completely beyond his reach.
- Ryan Thomas, Inclusion +6 days 09:58 hours
Eventually, Styx regains control of herself and steps away from me, her eyes once again hard and determined, although still red-rimmed.
“I’m not giving up,” she states confidently. “You two can wait here for me and I’ll come find you after, but I’m so close. I’m not turning back, not when I’ve already come so far.”
“I’m coming with you,” I respond instantly.
Styx shoots me a grateful smile before continuing. “Thanks, Atlas. I appreciate it, I really do, but it honestly might be best if you wait here for me to get back. I’ll move much faster without you.”
That’s the understatement of the century, but I don’t recant my statement. “I’m still coming with you. I’m not letting you explore alone. I’m staying with you.” Styx’s smile softens. “And anyway,” I turn to face Sam as well as I continue, “I don’t think it has to be quite as dangerous as you’re predicting.”
“In what way?” Sam asks.
“Remember, this is a stealth mission,” I start. “Our goal is to avoid conflict at all costs. But the way you describe cities post-inclusion, it sounds more like a full-pitched, non-stop battle. This creature we’re approaching is almost certainly powerful in a fight, but does that power translate to being able to detect us? If it never knows we’re here, the only danger it offers is the distraction of its aura. And with careful planning, I don’t think that has to be an issue.”
Styx’s smile widens as Sam voices its hesitant agreement. “So what’s the plan?” Styx asks.
I smile back at her, and begin talking.
----------------------------------------
Ten minutes later, we resume our trek through the city, although at a much slower pace. Despite her anticipation, Sam’s warnings have finally instilled a greater sense of caution into Styx, and she’s following our plan despite the added delay to her getting home.
Although, ‘plan’ might be a strong word for what we’re doing. Basically, it amounts to: extremely slow and cautious.
Rather than walk along the sidewalks as we had been earlier, we hug the edges of the houses, dashing from cover-to-cover across yards to press ourselves against trees, fences, and the outside walls of the buildings, carefully ducking under windows to avoid the sightline of anything that might be looking out.
Our pace is a fraction of what it had been earlier, reminding me of our first careful exploration of Aliston. Although, thankfully, my physical Numbers are higher than what they had been way back then, so despite all of the crouching and dashing I’m not nearly as winded.
Which isn’t to say that it is easy. Despite our slow pace, the swiveling of my head for any nearby observers has only increased, and the slowly growing pressure of the monster’s skill is exacerbated by my sudden movements. The building headache, coupled with the knowledge that we are approaching a dangerous monster without the full strength of our group, leads to a journey almost as stressful as our frantic run to the Alatir hive to save Styx.
Almost as stressful, but not quite. I don’t know if there’s anything that will ever match that night-long run of fear, exhaustion, and pure helplessness.
I had taken a moment during our planning session to send a message through my bond to Pallas, updating him on our situation. I also had the unfortunate realization that, should we actually encounter any monsters and Styx be forced to use her skill in an aura, my bond with Pallas will be instantly lost, and so I warned him not to panic if we drop off the map unexpectedly. I feel foolish not realizing that this was a possibility before separating, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
While Styx’s skill has a remarkable amount of synergy with Melete’s, it certainly doesn’t pair well with the rest of us, invalidating the strengths of the rest of our skills. Which I guess is the point, the reason why her skill is so powerful. And also why the original troll monsters only used their brute strength to try and kill us rather than any other special abilities.
We pass the last house before the intersection and Styx noticeably perks up as we look at the crooked signpost next to the road.
“This is my road!” she whispers excitedly. “Only a few hundred yards and we’ll be there.” I glance at her and wince at the sudden motion. The pressure has only increased as we continue, to the point that any movement of my head sends spikes digging into my temples. Styx has long since used her own skill to nullify the oppressive aura, which has the side effect of cancelling my bond to her. Thankfully, having one less bond to maintain through the pain eases some of my own mental strain as well. But I can’t imagine what Sam is going through.
We’ve never actually discussed our specific Numbers with Sam. I have occasionally seen the space on Sam’s torso where there are small blue lines, but they’re always blurred and occasionally missing completely, likely constantly hidden by Sam’s illusions. Which I suppose makes sense -- in a universe where Numbers are gained through murder and power determines everything, I’m not surprised that openly sharing your Numbers for anyone but the most powerful would be considered taboo. But I know at some point Sam mentioned that wisdom and intelligence determine the ability to which his illusions are effective, and after this trip, I imagine wisdom is more important for blocking the illusions than for creating them. Because it is clear Sam hasn’t invested heavily into the Number that governs mental resilience.
Sam’s steps have become more and more erratic as we draw closer to the source of the aura, and as we turn down the new neighborhood, so close to our final destination, I hope that the pressure from the aura will recede now that we’re walking in a new direction.
Unfortunately, after we pass the first three houses, it’s evident that this isn’t the case. Even when I stand perfectly still I can feel the pressure now, and the movements of those around me look almost as if they are in slow motion. I know my thoughts are fuzzy and slow, but no matter how much I try to focus I can’t sharpen them.
So it’s not surprising that when we dash across the yard to crouch behind a row of bushes it takes a full minute of waiting for Sam to follow before I realize that it’s not coming. I look back and can see Sam right where we left it, standing against the wall of the previous house, but still it doesn’t move to follow.
Sam? Everything all right? I ask through the bond.
“I…” I hear Sam’s reply start, but it quickly drops away.
“Sam? Sam? What’s going on?” I ask again. Styx is staring at me with a questioning look on her face, and I raise a single finger to tell her to wait, while simultaneously marvelling at how my hand appears to be moving at a different pace to my vision from what my muscles are telling me.
“...can’t…” Sam says.
Suddenly, it clicks.
Even with all my wisdom, I’m finding it difficult to maintain the bonds formed by my ‘mental’ skill. Sam’s ability to create and maintain illusions must rely on mental focus, at least to a certain extent, and with the pressure of this aura around us it’s struggling to use its illusions to communicate with us, or even to follow us any closer to the center of the aura.
How strong is this monster we’re approaching?
Go back, I finally say through my bond, realizing that the communication isn’t quite as effortless as I’d always found it before. Yet Sam must understand it without issue, because it immediately turns and disjointedly scuttles away. We’ll meet you where we made the plan, I communicate as Sam leaves, If we’re not back by dark, meet at Ms. Kathy’s.
Sam doesn’t respond, but I trust that it has heard and understands, simply because I don’t have the energy to think about what we’ll do if it hasn’t.
I whisper a quick explanation to Styx, and I can see my own worries reflected in her eyes. With her skill active, she hasn’t felt the growing pressure at all, and as I see a look of determination in her eyes I quickly whisper, “Don’t!”
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But I’m too late, or maybe Styx just doesn’t listen to me, because I can see the exact moment her skill deactivates and the pressure from the aura descends on her full-force.
She freezes in place, eyes closed and face screwed into a grimace of pain. Her hands fly to her head, but one of them moves faster than the other and almost punches her in the face. She stumbles, and I reach out and steady her before she has a chance to fall.
But just like that, she’s steady again, and she stares at me with wide eyes.
“I tried to warn you…” I whisper wryly.
She gives a shaky smile. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid of me. Sorry,” she replies. “How is it so strong? How are we supposed to fight something that can make something like that?”
I shrug. “We’re not,” I say simply. “Stealthy, remember?”
Styx nods, somewhat reassured. I don’t mention that were Melete and Pallas with us I would be sorely tempted to try and defeat whatever monster is creating this aura. After all, how many others would have a method to fight through the pressure, aside from Styx and the trolls she got her skill from? And I wouldn’t assume most of those monsters that swarmed the cities invested heavily into wisdom, so it’s not likely that whatever creature is creating this aura has experience in fighting fully-functioning opponents.
But it’s just me and Styx, so I resign myself to my Numbers staying the same today. Which is probably a good thing -- fighting within Styx’s skill would mean we wouldn’t have access to our own skills, either, and it probably isn’t wise pitting ourselves in a purely physical confrontation against a monster that’s likely been killing non-stop for the last month. We don’t want a repeat of the hive-queen.
Although as that thought crosses my mind, a small part of me questions...was the battle with the hive-queen really so bad?
From that battle our group gained hundreds of Numbers, in addition to a powerful skill, and no one was permanently harmed. What if we hadn’t defeated the hive and gained the corresponding Numbers? Would we have been able to survive the following battles?
I suddenly shake my head, welcoming the pain that silences the insidious voice. I can’t think of my friends like that, as commodities to be risked for our future survival, and of Numbers as the goal to leave all else behind for. Styx almost died because of my foolishness in attacking the hive.
Styx looks at me strangely, and I realize that during my inner musings she had asked me a question.
“Ready to go?” she whispers again.
I gesture with an arm for her lead the way, and we continue.
----------------------------------------
The road through Styx’s neighborhood is different from many of the roads we’ve previously been walking. While we’ve been generally staying away from larger roads, simply because they lack cover compared to smaller neighborhood roads, those neighborhoods have varied greatly.
Ms. Kathy’s apartment building, while respectable, was bordered by a convenience store and a laundromat, and surrounded by taller apartment buildings, most of them old and clearly having seen better days. Most of the neighborhoods we’ve walked through since then are of the newer variety: square blocks with cookie-cutter duplexes and small, once well-maintained and sterile yards. The type of housing that always seemed to constantly spring up in the quickly growing city of Clayton, of a size that could easily hold one point five kids, within driving distance of jobs in the city center and along the bus route of a quality public education system.
Styx’s neighborhood, however, is different. The road twists and turns around large houses with expansive yards and driveways that can fit way more than the standard two cars. I don’t imagine there were many who lived in these houses that made use of public education, instead enrolling in CNA or one of the other similarly prestigious private schools. For those who lived here, I’m sure it was a quiet, welcoming neighborhood, a place of seclusion and of safety from the troubles and dangers of the outside world. But for outsiders, this place was clearly not welcome. Signs every few yards warn any potential parkers that non-resident vehicles will be towed immediately, and the meandering nature of the road, coupled with the lack of businesses, means that there are dozens of more direct routes for those just passing through than the road we walk.
Because of the large yards, the best path, the one that allows us to stay behind cover, is almost twenty yards away from the road. And that distance means we don’t notice the change until we’re almost on top of it, as we dash from a tree to a row of hedges next to a large mailbox.
The next houses are gone.
Well, not completely gone. But where the majority of the houses we’ve passed have only been lightly vandalized with broken windows and doors, the next few houses we can see are almost totally destroyed.
The first is nothing more than a burnt husk, the lack of any smoke or ashy smell indicating the destruction was not recent. The next looks as if it was hit by a wrecking ball, the second story collapsed into the first. And the third...there’s barely anything left. Debris is scattered throughout the yard of the third house, with only a foundation and half of one wall left to indicate where the house used to be. I can’t imagine what might have destroyed that house in such a way, as if a massive explosion went off inside the house, blasting the wreckage away from the center.
Of course, it’s the third house Styx points to and hoarsely whispers, “Mine.”
She leads the way through the last two yards, luckily sticking to the plan of ‘slow and stealthy’ despite what must be a maelstrom of emotions. But even though she keeps her pace slow, I struggle to keep up, as the pressure from the aura is like a tangible presence surrounding me as I stumble along a few yards behind her.
In spite of the pain, I force myself to stay aware. Each turn of my head increases my headache to an almost debilitating degree, and after a quick word of explanation to Sam I dismiss my bond with a sigh of relief. The reduced mental focus required to maintain only a single bond feels like bliss, at least until I turn my head to look around the bush I’m crouched behind and realize ‘less pain’ doesn’t mean ‘zero pain.’
The pressure must be messing with my sense of time as well, because in one moment I’m hiding behind a bush that smells distractingly pleasant, and in what feels like an eye-blink I’m following Styx as she picks her way through the rubble of her once-home.
With what little focus I can muster, I help her parse through the remains. I’m not sure how helpful digging through the rubble will be, because to me it looks like how I imagine a garbage dump would look, but I diligently sort through the junk for anything remotely whole.
And in the pieces, I occasionally notice trash that indicates this might have once been a home: a torn canvas of a Bob Ross-style painting, a section of drywall with pretty pink-flowered wallpaper, a bent golf club. But as the minutes, or perhaps hours, pass, we don’t see any sign of her parents, much less any message they may have left us.
I pull myself together enough to give Styx a weak hug, the best I’m able to offer of the comfort I know she so desperately needs.
“No blood,” I whisper when we separate from the hug. There’s no sign of the tears I expect to see in Styx’s eyes, and she just nods resolutely to my statement.
“Sorry, this was all a waste of time,” she says, shaking her head in disappointment. “We could be a day down the road to Bothell by now if I hadn’t been so insistent.”
I open my mouth to excuse her, but suddenly Styx reaches out and pulls me down. The sudden movement makes me clench my teeth against the pain, but I trust that Styx has a good reason and keep silent.
When the pain subsides, I open my eyes and follow Styx’s pointing finger.
Black. Twisting, turning, so still, yet so quick. I feel as if I’m falling, but I notice my perspective isn’t changing. No wait, it is, but not in the way I’m expecting. Is the thing...getting closer?
If I had more control over my body, I would gasp at the realization -- it’s not getting closer to me, I’m getting closer to it. Somehow, without being able to feel my body, I’m moving forward, heedlessly stepping over rubble to directly approach the thing.
My brief panic disappears to join with any other rational sensation, overwhelmed by the dizzy twisting and turning that has become my world.
And then...it’s gone.
So suddenly that I fall to the ground where I am, everything is back to normal. The pain, the dizziness, the confusion -- all are gone. And most importantly, I’m once again in control of my mind.
I can now feel Styx’s hands wrapped around my arm, attempting to pull me away from the creature, and I allow myself to be led until we are another twenty yards distant and behind a tree.
“What was that?” Styx frantically whispers.
“...we probably should have listened to Sam,” is all that I respond, and peek around the tree to once again look at the monster, belatedly realizing that my bond with Pallas is broken and my skills completely blocked off.
I can faintly remember, as if recalling a dream, how the monster looked before Styx saved me using the aura of her skill. A strange amalgamation of concepts, indescribable in human language, a vision that could break the mind of any who stared too long...yet somehow left me wanting more.
But now...it’s normal.
It’s just a black blob in the backyard of the house that is missing the second floor, which is why we didn’t notice it as we approached Styx’s house. It’s about the size of a cow, but I don’t see a head, legs, or anything else that would make me think this thing is alive, and the only defining feature is the three parallel lines that whorl over the blackness. Aside from the lines and the memory of what it looked like outside of Styx’s skill, I would be hard pressed to say it was anything but a pile of black sludge.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that’s the source of pressure,” I say. We continue staring in silent stillness, but the monster doesn’t so much as twitch. If it didn’t look so out of place in this suburban neighborhood, I might be fooled into forgetting it’s a monster at all.
Eventually, Styx asks the oh-so-tempting question. “Should we attack it?”
It’s a struggle, but I shake my head. If I hadn’t just seen it’s form without the safety of Styx’s skill, I might be more tempted. But the terrifying hypnotism of the creature is still fresh in my mind, giving me the self control to choose the better part of valor.
Also...I know what Styx is going through. At least somewhat. It was only two days ago that I was exploring the remnants of my own home and experiencing the fresh loss of my parents. Styx obviously isn’t in that exact situation -- her parents might still be alive -- but in my moment of pain and helplessness I would have done almost anything for a battle with a monster, a conflict to release my frustration on something that I could actually control. Part of me still craves that, to be honest.
Yet I know, with the benefit of hindsight -- as limited as only two days of hindsight can offer -- that a battle might have been one of the worst things for me. I needed peace, friends, and time to grieve.
My job now is to get Styx back to Ms. Kathy’s, safe and reunited with our friends.
“No,” I say out loud, “it’s not worth it. Let’s get going.”
And with no further words we retreat, leaving what was left of Styx’s home, and the monster, behind us.
S: 153
D: 144
W: 390 (+1)
I: 362
C: 100
0
Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental