Ozzy was soon introduced to the uncomfortable truth that choosing to take an action was very different from following through and engaging in that action. As much as he’d felt just moments before that this was no longer earth and he needed to do whatever he needed to ensure his safety there was a heavy air as he sent his new creation over to the boar's haven. As expected it didn’t react to the intruder. It’s physical improvements not allowing the same sight that the imps, or Vonder, had for membranes. As his invention closed in for the kill he opened his eyes for a distraction from the feed coming from it. He didn’t close off the connection though. He hadn’t yet found a good way of automating its capabilities. That and he didn’t want to completely divorce himself from what he was doing.

The starfish flopped itself onto the boar's head and before the beast could even recognize that something had touched it the arms clamped down. The execution was quicker and more humane than Ozzy had hoped. The boar barely had time to jerk its head in confusion at the invisible touch before it flopped to the ground twitching. Technically still alive but likely more errant electrical signals in the muscles rather than cognition in the brain that was half gone. As much as he was queasy from the kill, looking at the dead pig got his mouth watering thinking about some of the things he was missing from home.

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Ozzy got the boar spinning over the fire on a spit he made. As much as he’d loved bacon back home and had started this whole process for it, he realized wouldn’t get any as he wasn’t entirely sure where on the pig it came from. That and he still only had a few rocks to cook on other than the rotisserie he’d just whipped up. Meaning if he even knew where to cut, he didn’t have something to cleanly fry it on. Instead he’d get some roasted ham which was still quite a nice break from the monotonous fruit based diet he’d been on for several days. His intestines would also be glad for the change. He really didn’t want to think about why that was. The ham was divine. Juicy and delicious beyond anything else he’d tasted here. Though he suspected the experience had more to do with his lack of variety so far. Rather than being anything specific about this particular boar or its rather lackluster preparation.

The enjoyment of the meal brought him back to the present. Reminding him he wasn’t a machine, but a living breathing human. He shouldn’t only look at this new world as a puzzle to be solved but a place where he now lives. And, Living wasn’t only reacting, or if it is it’s not much of a life. Ozzy had done a great deal for himself in such a small amount of time here. But, it wasn’t quite enough to say he had a good life here, or even a mediocre one. Back on earth it was so easy to become focused and driven toward goals that while laudable weren’t conducive to living the life one wanted. He’d somehow found himself similarly caught up here. So as he sat already fat and happy from his meal, munching on a few small burnt ends for flavor, he began to think about what he really wanted out of his time here.

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Ozzy spent the rest of the day finishing up the cleanup of his haven. Having decided that one thing he definitely wanted out of life was to not live in a war zone. The hasty shuffling about of blood and viscera the night before had made it look less ghastly at a glance but any extended perusal of the environment would show the things he’d missed or forgotten. He’d apparently missed a few entrails hanging from some of the trees. Thankfully the water tiles had cleaned themselves overnight. Bringing his old socks into the mix as rags helped get some of the more stubborn dried blood off the pathway and the walls of his house.

The job took longer than he’d have liked for something that wasn’t exactly benefiting him. Yet he found the activity grounding and relaxing in a way he hadn’t expected. Just as building a shack had helped him feel secure, cleaning his home made it all feel more real. The process helping further relieve and release tension he was still holding from all the excitement he’d gone through since arriving. Somehow at the end of the scrubbing of blood and viscera he found himself smiling and satisfied, in a way that even learning magic hadn’t quite accomplished. Which isn’t to say he hadn’t been giddy at the prospect and all the possibilities thereof. He was also still excited for it and absolutely not going to be leaving off the path he’d started down. The experience just taught him that despite the level of mystical greatness he’d achieved he was still human and needed some simple pleasures, and even labors, to fulfill his needs.

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Ozzy had lay in bed that night thinking of all the ways he could improve his life here. Sleep was strangely elusive from the surprising high off such a simple accomplishment. The anticipation for many similar tasks had him jittery. He’d already stumbled upon one when dimming the lights in his haven to prepare for bed. He had impressed upon the haven to begin a cycle of daylight and starlight to simulate night. He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d accomplished his goal, nor if, supposing he did, that the timing would be accurate. Either way he was anxious to see the next day to inspect the results.

Likewise he’d been wanting to get back to the cotton silk flower mash up that he’d planted. Hoping to create some clothes tomorrow, that didn’t feel like a first try using an overpriced organic lumpy ball of yarn. He was envisioning the different types of loom he could make with his domain and all the myriad of stitches he’d half remembered from his short time as a kid making himself some gloves. There was a bit of worry that he’d end up with worse clothes than he was currently wearing, but he doubted that. If he made the yarn small enough and worked it at a small enough scale any failures might blend in both visually and by feel. Which reminded him he needed to have a way to process the flowers in the first place. It was as he realized he would also need to get more of the plants growing and how he would streamline the process that he finally drifted off to sleep.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

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Ozzy’s next day went about as he’d planned. The ‘morning’ came with a sudden blast of light from the sky, but it was an improvement and a step in the right direction he could work on. There were no unannounced visitors to interrupt him and he made lots of progress in all three of his current endeavors. He’d expanded his patch of flowers and found a few different ways to process them into thread. Refining those methods down took a few hours. Each iteration of prototyping the tools required and testing them out was greatly sped up thanks to his domain. The resulting thread was not only on average a tenth the thickness of what he had on, but there were no large bunches either. He’d had a few vague memories of visiting a country fairground as a child with a section dedicated to cotton processing. While they were not enough to give him every detail the hints were enough to point him in the right direction.

Recreating knitting was a bit strange though he did have his experience crocheting to lean back on. With a few half remembered comments about the difference between the two to go off of. Something about all stitches in a row being open at once with knitting, while he knew crochet worked one at a time. There was also a suggestion that knitting was very conducive to automation while crocheting was more versatile for unique creations. Which did allow him to create something of a hybrid between the two hobbies. He wasn’t sure whether the resulting stitches were actually knitting or not, but it at least worked to create cloth that was both thinner and softer than he currently had. The process also giving him some insights into making his constructs autonomous in some aspects. He’d made hooks like crochet, but in a circle to allow constant open stitches along the work. He’d found that he could apply intent to move if another hook moved. It was only one simple step toward automation, but it was a step. The only functional and concrete results of the day were a pair of socks that quickly replaced the ones Cederick had provided him. Those were tossed on the pile of rags that included his original socks and clothes.

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Ozzy spent the day improving his mechanisms and process until he was able to make himself a full set of replacement clothes. When he finally put them on and tried them out he felt strangely sensual in them. The clothes Cederick had given him were so rough in comparison that these mildly smooth ones by comparison had him feeling amazing. After he’d gotten over the new feel and had some lunch he made a few spare sets. As well as a new piece of furniture for his home. A dresser where he could store his spare clothes. The rest of the evening was spent going over the next few adjustments he wanted to make. As he pondered he was able to also fiddle with manually creating something like a sunset and sunrise in the haven. Having the starry view appear slowly over sections of the surrounding membrane to ease on the day and night.

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The next day he took to creating and testing out utensils and furniture for his everyday use. Better cups, Plates, forks, spoons, and more jugs joined his initial fumblings he called cups in the currently almost bare cupboards of his little shack. With one of the new jugs he pulled down some fruit and made some juice. Something other than poorly filtered water was a godsend. He’d also built a cistern on his shack's roof. Framed with wood but the water was held by fired clay. He also made an actual sink for himself with a valve and pipes made out of clay. Lastly he’d made several trays he laid out on his pathway and filled with saltwater. Allowing them to dry out leaving a thin crusty film of salt. Adding the seasoning to what was left of his smoked pork took it up just a notch.

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Ozzy realized when he went to sip his water in the morning that he wasn’t satisfied with the marginally clean water. That and he was a bit annoyed at having to manually fill his cistern with water. Taking a look at the problem and thinking of ways to resolve it he’d come up with a few minor improvements. He could use his much improved cloth layered to filter the water. He’d also thought of creating some charcoal to … well he wasn’t entirely sure how charcoal cleaned things, but he knew every filter he’d ever seen had ‘activated’ charcoal in it. He knew how to make charcoal as having been an attention deficit hyperactive afflicted individual that had access to the internet had him researching anything he had a mild interest in. Yet he’d never looked up the next step of actually activating the stuff.

Though it was as he was trying to conjure up possible ways to get around this lack of knowledge that he realized he didn’t need to do either of those. Creating membranes to target specific things and interact with them on a tiny scale was already something he’d been working on for weeks. He’d just made tools that worked on yarn that was almost thread. He’d also created tubes and pumps. The only difference being so far he’d been interacting with energy and domain particles not water. Though, he quickly found the methods translated rather smoothly. Allowing him to target water specifically, leaving all the murky mess behind, and pump it to his cistern effortlessly. The process was so easy that he found himself making a little bird bath out of clay and making a little fountain in it just for the pleasure of the burbling sound in the background.

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The next day found Ozzy feeling refreshed like the third or fourth day of vacation. Where the tension has finally fully released and you can start truly enjoying yourself. Where the worry of returning to work hasn’t hit yet. This despite the last few days being nothing but work. The difference, he felt, was not that he wasn’t working but he’d no longer been feeling locked into a specific set of actions day in and day out. The simple freedom to choose what he worked on allowed a sense of agency and ownership of his projects. With the last few days being devoid of any exploration, murder, or grinding of any kind he actually felt a pull back to it. While he had the beginnings of a desire to get back to it, that didn't mean he had to yet. So his vacation of sorts continued for now. The day included a mix of small efforts when the fancy struck him but for the first time he actually relaxed for most of the day.