As 11 strolls across the desolate field, her internal interface pings up with a notification telling her what she already knows but hopes is not the case.
> All systems and functions are performing at optimal levels, Gier 11, including optic drivers.
>
> If you really did see anything unusual, it could be data imprints left over from a previous system update while you were in zero-power mode.
“That... makes sense," 11 says in a way that sounds like she believes it. She has to admit there really is no other way to explain the 'Creepy Aiya Man' - a name she has dubbed him in accordance to the last thing he said to her. Screamed, really.
But something just feels off about the whole experience.
11 takes a deep breath and decides to do the logical thing, which is to merely state that all illogical ideas and happenings are merely products of the chaotic nature of the universe, and leave it at that.
"Am I in Haven, Mother?”
> Correct.
>
> I have located your position to be in the Southeast Section of Haven. The elevator to the surface is directly north from you.
>
> I will send you the updated Protocol Status once you reach the surface.
“Understood,” 11 says but does not go north. She heads east instead, towards the huts she's seen after climbing out of the tunnel.
Haven is humanity’s last and greatest effort against the horrors that spilled out of Pandora’s Gate. What the Gate’s initial blast left alive, the demons that poured out of it hunted down and slew. In the span of just two years, less than 1% of the entire human population remained. If Haven had not been built in time, then perhaps even that 1% would have perished.
And then, would the second generation of God Giers even exist? Would we need to?
As 11 climbs the bank of dirt onto a road made of more dirt, she wonders how these once-gods of lightning and machinery lived, huddled down here under the earth.
What kind of achievements have they made during the five hundred years underground?
The desire to see history for herself is consuming. As the road flattens out, 11 finds herself finally standing outside the entrance to one of the huts bordering the farmland and what appears to be the main road.
"Wait. What the hell is this?"
The squat, brown building huddles low to the ground like it's sprouting from the dirt. 11 touches the crumbling walls, noting how they are a mix of sand and mud and animal hair and wood shavings, a crockpot of whatever was lying around at the time, it seems. The top of the building has completely decayed away. Only a tattered piece of cloth hangs on the doorframe, so still time seems to have frozen around it.
"Must be a storage unit of some kind," 11 mutters to herself, brushing the cloth aside. "It must be. There's no way this is a... oh."
The air inside is laced with a musty, stale stench. The dust is so thick that every step feels to 11 like she is wadding through a block of jelly. Tiny specks of grey and white flutter in the pale milky light, clinging to her hair, her face, her eyes. 11 imagines them entering her lungs with each inhalation and the thought makes her stomach clench. So she stops breathing.
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A rectangular stone block sits on the far side of the hut, its center hollowed out in a crude circle. A small pile of coal is stacked in one corner of the room, next to crusty remains of what may have been piles of wood. Everything else is either decayed beyond existence or has crumbled into unidentifiable ruins.
“Is it too much to hope there's still a can of coffee somewhere around here?” 11 jokes as she walks past what she assumes may actually have been a kitchen. She passes through another doorless doorway. The cloth attached above this empty frame is so tattered that when she tries to push it aside, the whole thing breaks apart. 11 purses her lips, suddenly unsure of whether she wants to go deeper into the dingy hut. But in the end, curiosity wins over discomfort.
The stone slab in this room is much longer and many times wider than the one in the kitchen. It also has no hole in the middle. The slab fits snuggly in the tight space, stretching from wall to wall. 11 estimates there is enough room for three of her to lie comfortably on it, though the dark smudges of decay on it put her off ever trying it.
The cleansing area is at the very back of the house, in a room next to the back door, and is little more than a pit dug in the ground. 11 does not peek over the ledge. Even she is not so clueless to its purpose. The rest of the hut's interior consists of a tiny storage room, another bedroom, and a moderately spacious dining space.
It is only after seeing everything this rundown shack has to offer that 11 defeatedly admits it must've housed humans at one time. No storage unit needs two bedrooms and a bathroom, crude as they may be in design.
"This is probably just a temporary place for farmers to stay as they tended to crops, or whatever it is they did," 11 tells herself, trying to keep the hope alive. "They must have robot houses with electronic doors and robot butlers deeper in the city. Yes, I'm sure of it." She turns around and starts to leave, but decides to check the back windows as a final stop of the tour.
The glass has been blackened by age so 11 cannot see outside. She tiptoes to unhook the latch in the middle of the window frame, but the moment her fingers graze against the dried-up rope, the entire wooden frame collapses around her. She gasps in surprise, then in dismay as a galaxy of microscopic particles flies straight into her nose.
She races out of the hut, sneezing.
Despite the scare, 11 ends up spending a long time in Haven. She travels through the rural area, walking past huts identical to the one she went into. She makes sure to not touch anything though, no matter how sturdy they might look.
She reaches the city quickly. And to her dismay, 11 discovers that all the houses are mud huts as well, only bigger. They jut out from the ground in the poorest excuse of a pattern, as if a giant toddler had been making sand mounds with a plastic bucket, plonking them down whichever way his toddler brain fancied.
11 quickens her pace through the 'city', refusing to look at these ugly buildings any longer for fear the illogicality of it all may drive her insane.
Eventually, by chance more than on purpose, 11 reaches the edge of the city where the ceiling and walls of the cavern meet. Everything about the cavern wall is natural and unremarkable, save for a square, black-grey plate fixed within it.
11 touches the plate, which is at least five times taller than she is, and is amazed that it is metallic. The plate has corroded significantly over the years, but being the first metallic thing 11 has seen in this cave, she feels like she's just found a piece of home. Leaning in to get a closer look, 11 can just make out faint markings etched into its surface – a halo encircled by a ring of stars with a pair of wings in the middle.
"Eternal Heaven," she whispers, recognizing the sigil of her creators. "So... this place really is Haven."
11 has no choice but to face reality. Somehow, the same creatures who built her is responsible for the mess down here.
But how is that possible?
As 11 touches the markings to make sure she isn't hallucinating them, the cave wall begins to vibrate. She barely feels it at first, but the shaking rockets in intensity as the entire metal plate begins to shriek. 11 leaps back. The sound reminds 11 of a wounded ghost and forces her thoughts back to the nightmare with the Creepy Aiya Man. But this time 11 is awake and armed. She rests her hand on the hilt of the sword by her waist. It is a casual and composed gesture, but from this position, she can draw her Nano-tech blade at Mach speeds if she needs to. She's safe, as long as she has her weapon by her side.
The rusty plate stops moving. Then, with a high-pitched squeal, it breaks open right down the middle to reveal a cargo elevator.
11 nearly laughs at the poor sight of such a broken-down machine.
To think she was almost scared by it.
Stepping onto the platform, 11 half-expects it to just give up and drop her to the bottom of the planet. But as she listens to the squeal of the doors close and feels the ancient machine begin its wobbly climb, worry sets back in. It is a different kind of concern, not for her but the ones she's meant to protect once she reaches the surface. She tries to think through possibilities on how the saviors of mankind, the architects of the future, the Gods of the God Giers can come to live in such dismal conditions.
It's almost as if they reverted back to the Stone Age.
The elevator lurches abruptly, making 11 grip her blade tightly. But the ancient chains and gears do not betray her, this time at least. With a moan and a groan, they continue taking her to the surface. But the forboding tightness in 11's chest does not lessen. Because somewhere deep inside her, she knows her problems are just beginning.