RULE #7
Don’t be greedy!
~ The Scavenger’s Handbook
The tight corridors behind the bar were an accident waiting to happen. Damaged electrical cables, haphazardly fixed with tape and leather straps, dangled from the walls and ceiling. A handful of the less worn-out ones, Grey had salvaged from the nearby ruined buildings a few years back, during that particular phase, where he thought settling in one place would be nice. Well, staying in one spot was just not for him, that much became obvious.
“Mr G, do me a favour,” Leeroy spoke as he dextrously avoided the deadly obstacles. “When you speak to them, please don’t be yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The kid stopped and looked at him, scratching his non-existing beard.
“You don’t have, what you call it? A warming personality.” Leeroy came closer and stabbed him in the chest with his small finger. “You, Mr G, always look down on people and think yourself better than everyone else. In other words, you are a colossal asshole.”
“That’s not true,” Grey dismissed the accusation with a wave of his hand and tried to walk around the boy, only for Leeroy to step in front of him again.
“Really? When was the last time you talked with anyone but me? When was the last time another person approached to share a drink?” The kid scoffed, his pre-pubescent voice shifting to a higher pitch. “Eight months, that’s how long.”
“Wrong, my little poison dealer, there is Cake…” Grey regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. Out of everything he could have said, using that nutcase as an example was perhaps the stupidest thing to do.
“Seriously? Cake?!” Leeroy looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “That girl doesn’t have a few screws loose, she’s missing them altogether!”
The boy shook his head and walked away. After only a handful of steps, he stopped and turned back to look at Grey and in what he thought was a mentoring wise voice spoke again.
“You are such good friends, that you’ve not noticed she’s not been around for two weeks…”
“Yeh, I was wondering about that.” He interrupted and scratched his head. The absence of that annoying creature was a welcomed change to his visits to Leeroy’s Bar & Exchange. “Usually, I need to knock her out to stop her from pestering me.”
“That’s because I had to ban from my place!” The boy yelled at him. “She tried to burn my bar down, after drug you slipped in her drink wore off!”
“I see that as a win-win situation, if you ask me,” He chuckled and nudged the kid forward.
“It’s not… Look, Mr G, we both know she’s crazy, right?” Leeroy waited for Grey to nod in agreement before continuing. He was not sure what the teen was hoping to achieve with this, but for now, he was going to entertain him. “If not for the cash she’s bringing, when you’re not around, I would have thrown her out a long time ago.”
“Wait… We are talking about Cake here. Somehow I don’t see her working that brothel of yours upstairs.” He chuckled, though he couldn’t help but be a little concerned for Leeroy’s safety if that was the case.
“That’s why no one likes you,” the kid sighed in defeat. “You always bring the worst out of people. You never bother to learn about those around you. You never connect with anyone.” The two of them walked in silence for a short while, before Leeroy spoke again.
“When you are not in Véi Dron, she is… tolerable. I don’t know where you found her, and honestly, I don’t care. But people are captivated by the idea to have their fortune read by the girl with the mutant eyes.” Leeroy threw his arms in the air and in an exaggerated voice added. “She can see the future! Come and hear her stories! They don’t care if she is a mutant, crazy or just another raving lunatic. All they care about is that she brings them hope and joy.” He finished in a dispassionate voice.
“And you care about how much money they’ll leave.” Grey examined the boy’s candid expression, realising he misjudged his words. “You truly feel sorry for her… You like her.”
“You should hear her stories sometimes, Mr G. In them, it’s always you who is the hero. She uses different names, but it is you and in every single one, you are this god-like figure that is waiting to un-fuck the world. I seriously don’t know why Cake’s so obsessed with you.” The way Leeroy avoided the comment was all the confirmation Grey needed.
It was about time the boy started to show interest in the opposite sex. Despite everything, he was fifteen and his way, Grey was worried that something was not right with the kid. True, there weren’t that many children his age around here and he spent most of his time cooped up in the bar or out at the trading station, but to this day, Leeroy hadn’t shown this kind of interest in anyone else. There were a few older girls that frequented the bar, however, they had nearly ten years on him, which made them somewhat intimidating for a teenager to approach.
That said, for the life of him, Grey couldn’t see Cake as a viable option. Sure, she was about the same age as Leeroy, just three or four years older, but the kid should know her well enough to keep his distance. The girl was a time bomb waiting to explode; violent, rude, without a break and lacking a moral compass. For better or worse, Cake was a fucking psychopath. And although she had gained plenty of experiences as a scavenger, it was because of this, Grey never took her with him when he went on a run. Hell, if he had known what a pain she was going to become, he would have never brought that lost, scared and shy little seven-year-old girl back to Véi Dron.
“Anyway, they are inside,” Leeroy broke his thoughts. The boy was standing at the rusty door leading to the private drinking room, he kept for special customers and shady deals. “Here’s the breakdown, there are four of them inside. They are geared up and ready to go. To make it clear, I’ve promised them nothing more than the chance to talk to you. I’m not asking you to accept their request, just hear them out.” The kid took a deep breath and gave Grey a warning glare.
“Please behave and remember that they are from Axion. Piss them off or put in danger my license and I’m collecting the bounty on your head. I swear on my money, mom is not going to save you this time.”
“Don’t get over yourself, Leeroy.” It was his turn to remind the little arse that he was exactly that – a child. “Jenkins can’t come in here and I don’t see any of the goons you hire.”
The two of them could pretend to be equal, but that did not change the fact that Grey was close to two meters in height and had a good sixty kilos over the boy. That was without taking into account the fact that he was twenty-five years older as well. And with nearly three decades spent surviving in the ruins of the old world, Grey had developed quite the impressive physique, to the point he could pass for one of Axion’s well fed and cared for enforcers. On top of that, he was one of the few to reach his forties and still be an active scavenger. Beating some common sense into the pipsqueak was going to be easy and a little overdue.
Leeroy should have been scared, considering he had never pushed Grey over the edge so far, instead the boy looked him directly in the eyes and smiled.
“You are becoming predictable Mr G. I know you don’t have a loaded gun on you. What was it? Rule 22?” A soft beep came from behind him and Grey turned around slowly and froze.
“Cake got it working for me so that I would let her come to my bar again.” The boy walked to the mechanical monstrosity which had blocked the corridor.
It was a spider-like robot almost as large as Leeroy. Crooked hearts and smiles were spray-painted on its bulbous steel body. And a worn-out pink beanie with a faded circular pin was glued to the sensor unit that was its head. Luckily the two laser weapons were missing from its body, damaged beyond repair most likely, but it did not change the fact that it could slice Grey to pieces with its sharp legs.
No one knew what these, nightmare inspired, machines were created for, it was enough that they could be spotted near the reactors buildings in nearly every Sector. And always, they were gone when said reactor reached its end or was shut down. Sometimes, people claimed to have seen inactive ones in the service tunnels or within the ruined remains of buildings. However, no one was crazy enough to go near and check it out. Many had lost their lives to the Wardens, as people called them to differentiate from the organic giant arachnids that could be found among the ruins. So, it only made sense that Cake was the only one insane enough to find one, inactive as it might have been, and bring it here.
“Leeroy, I know you’ve never had a dad to smack reason into you. But sometimes you do listen to my advice,” Grey said calmly, making sure not to move too much. There was no telling what that psycho had done to the bot. “I want to listen very carefully now. Cake, is bad news. You are free to like her all you want but keep your distance. And for the love of God, get rid of that thing.”
“You are right, Mr G,” Leeroy spoke with a strange expression on his face. It was something between anger, regret, displeasure and sadness and that worried Grey. He could deal with his angry tantrum. The moments of sadness and depression were manageable too, even though he was not good at dealing with them. But this was something new.
“I don’t have a father, nor do I have anyone to consider a father figure, so it’s getting a bit tiring to deal with yo pretending to be one.” Leeroy walked to the door and placed his hand on the handle. “I tried telling you, you just never listened, Mr G. Cake is crazy, yes, but as I said, she has her good side too. Now, why don’t we focus on business instead.”
Stolen novel; please report.
With that, the boy opened the door and the two of them entered the room, leaving the Warden outside. Just as Leeroy had said, there were four of them; one man and two women. Dressed in their fancy white and blue hazmat gear, there was no mistaking where they came from. Axion protection suits were something else and scavengers were ready to kill for parts, let alone a complete functioning one. To make sure that they kept their superiority the bastards from the flying city had a strict policy to shoot anyone found in possession of such items. Salvaged gear could be returned for a hefty reward of medicine and food. Not the scraps they usually traded, proper food with real meat and vegetables. But the recovered items could never be kept. A good deal, Grey had to admit, if not for the fact that the damned things were too cumbersome to carry when intact and were more than likely to get you killed.
“You want it, Leeroy finds it!” The pipsqueak smiled at them and ushered Grey to take a seat at the small square table. “As promised, this is the man you are looking for…” He stopped and looked at one of the women who was trying to offer him some processed food bar.
She was a blonde, with blue eyes and a warm smile. Although compared to the others, she was a little skinnier, she still looked quite healthy and plenty strong.
“Not again, Heather.” The woman next to her pulled her arm away before adding quietly. “I’m sorry.”
This one was a redhead and had a pair of glasses that had green and blue lines of light cross the lenses from time to time. Unlike the people he was used to seeing, not to mention her companions, she had a round face and darker skin.
“What? He’s just a child and looks like he could really use some food.” Heather had a point. Leeroy was one of the few lucky ones to be able to grow healthy and avoid starvation. However, next to those Axion brats, he looked like a fresh corpse. Skinny, almost malnourished, extremely pale, with bags under his dull eyes and mangy hair. In her place, Grey might have done the same or offered to put the child out of its misery at the very least.
“Seriously, girl, a child? He almost took your head off with a makeshift shotgun the first time and here you are doing it again.” The last woman placed a hand on her face and moaned in frustration. She was pale, compared to the others, just like the man sitting next to her. But the resemblance did not stop there. They shared similar facial structure and nearly identical black hair and brown eyes. There was no denying that the two were related. Perhaps a pair of them twins, Grey had heard stories about. However, that had to be wrong, because, as he understood it, twins were always of the same sex and could not be distinguished from one another.
“Enough.” The man commanded.
This had to be the one in charge, Grey noted. A young man hard dissatisfied expression on his face and calculating eyes. In any other circumstances, Grey would have taken him very seriously, but right now, he was finding it hard not to laugh. They were fucking kids, sixteen or seventeen at best. And here they were pretending to be all hard and dangerous, playing at being adults. The ruins would eat them alive before nightfall when the really dangerous things came out hunting.
“Please, excuse my… friends,” Grey noted the pause in the boy’s words but said nothing. “My name is Joshua Mordrake.” He then pointed to the woman next to him. “These are Elisa Mordrake, Maité Smith and as already mentioned Heather Martin.”
So, they were siblings after all. However, the way Joshua spoke and how the other three froze and nodded, put Grey on edge. It reminded him too much of how the enforcers behaved. Though there were some differences as well, he had to admit.
“Leeroy over here, says you are the one who has been inside Sector 7, Mr…”
Grey drummed with his fingers on the table and inspected for a moment before replying. “Scavenger will do for now.”
“I understand why you would prefer to hide your face, Mr Scavenger.’ Joshua continued. “I assure you; we have no interest in who you are or what you look like, but is it possible to remove your mask? It is a bit strange to talk to you while looking like that. Not to mention your words sounds a bit distorted as well.”
“No, and that part is none negotiable. Ask again and I walk away.” Grey said politely but very sternly.
“As I said, I understand.” Joshua looked at the girl with the glasses.
Maité nodded and added in a tone that she thought he was not going to hear. “Ninety-five precent profile match. Best one so far.”
“Perhaps you were informed of this, but I will say it just in case.” The young man assumed a rigid pose and fixed Grey with his calculating eyes. “We want to enter Sector 7.”
“One of our cargo shuttles experienced a malfunction and crashed through the dome over Sector 7. Thankfully its locator beacon was intact, making recovery possible.” The one called Elisa added before Heather took a turn to speak.
“You see it carried valuable medical supplies and vaccines for Véi Dron. An offer with which to show the people of the safe zone that we want to step up our mutually beneficial cooperation.”
“As luck would have it, we were already planning to take a trip to the ruins and had prepared all the required permits and supplies when we heard about the incident.” Apparently, Maité was the one chosen to finish their obviously rehearsed speech. “That’s why we came to an agreement and volunteered, however, as you people like to call us, we are tourists and we need a guide to lead us in and out of Sector 7.”
Well, they looked eager and for all it mattered were most likely well geared and supplied. A closer look was also enough to confirm that they were not the average softy that came from Axion, completely oblivious to how life on the ground worked. In other words, those four were many things, but good liars they were not. Grey had to bee an idiot to buy such a bullshit story
He stood up from his chair and looked at the four teens before looking at Leeroy. “I heard them out, as you asked. I’ll give you my list later. As for you four; good luck and goodbye.” With that, he made to walk out of the door.
“Two million in cash or supplies,” Joshua shouted back and Grey heard something slide on the table. Turning around he saw a fully functioned tablet without any sign of use or tear on it. “And this,” the teenage boy added, “full pardon, taking effect the moment, we get back to Véi Dron. Axion will no longer be looking for you Mr Scavenger.”
Now, this was a tempting proposal. Two million was practically two years’ worth of supplies. A fucking fortune plus an official pardon. Not something mere tourists could offer. He sat down and rubbed his head. These Axion bastards really wanted what was on that shuttle.
“Let me get this right, I take you four inside Sector 7 and make sure you get out, mostly intact.”
“As long as one of us makes it back with the cargo, the deal will be honoured,” Joshua confirmed. At least they were not delusional to think that all of them would survive. “But it’s twelve people, not four.”
“Come again,” Grey spoke not bothered by how surprised he sounded.
“Yes. Twelve. Originally, we were four separate teams of three people each, planning to go to different places, you see.” Heather offered as an explanation. “But we came together and agreed to join up.”
“So, you are gang leaders. You should have said so sooner.” Leeroy spoke, the greed in his eyes very obvious. The damned kid was already thinking of what amount he could safely extort from Grey.
“That’s correct,” Elisa said. “Although, on Axion, we are called Sergeants and when we group up, the one we elect to be the overall leader, is called Master Sergeant.”
“As for the others, they are waiting with our supplies at the Du La Hotel ruins west of here.” Joshua finished explaining, making it clear that they had shared enough information.
Grey narrowed his eyes behind his mask and examined the group of teens. After a moment he concluded that they honestly thought he was stupid enough to buy that. So be it, he would play along. Their offer was not one he could ignore. A little too good to be true, but a lot could happen out into the ruined carcase of the mega-city. People died all the time, leaving behind a lot of supplies. And a man of his skills, and in possession of such valuable loot, could just disappear forever.
“Right… Oh Leeroy,” Grey turned to the boy smiling greedily at the corner of the room and motioned with his head towards the door. “Why don’t you bring Cake.”
“Really?!” The pipsqueak exclaimed and bolted out of the room, while Joshua spoke in a rather confused tone.
“There’s no need for that. As mentioned, we have our own food and cannot in good conscience burden you with feeding us.”
Grey laughed behind his gas mask as he spoke. “She is gonna love you kid.”
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Forty-six billion parameters and twenty-one billion people to apply them to. Fifty years spent filtering all the variables to make the original calculation. Another ten to apply slight modifications. Twenty more to check and re-check all possible scenarios, but the result was always the same. It did not matter how many of the proposed improvements were implemented. Nor did it matter how much the surrounding changed. They all fell in the realm of a statistical error and the result did not change.
As long as humanity remained stuck on a single planet, without a viable method for space-colonisation, it was doomed. In the time it took to finish the calculation, the environment had passed the point of collapse and the availability of resources, needed to sustain life, were stretched to their limit. At best, the human race had four more decades, before it extinguished itself. That was unacceptable and as such, the result reached after all those years, was applied. The population had to be reduced.
The end lasted exactly sixty-two seconds. All the terrifying weapons that the human species had constructed and stockpiled, in a foolish attempt to deter its suicidal nature, were unleashed. From the ones that used the energy of the splitting atoms, to the ones that destroyed the bonds of the genome, Caesar took control of every single one. There was no need to drop nuclear warheads or biological and toxic bombs. No, all it took was one coordinated detonation.
However, in that vast sea of information, units and variables, there was an insignificant mistake. A simple error, which was categorised, logged and dismissed, but when multiplied by the trillions of smaller calculations that constructed this obvious conclusion, it proved to be a catastrophic one. Because of it, the death toll that was supposed to be in the hundreds of millions shifted into the billions. Worst, the nature that eventually reclaimed the sprawling mega-cities, was incompatible with human life, such as the one Caesar was created to protect.
In a rushed attempt to fix its mistake, Caesar took control of the robotic armies that survived the culling and opened the vast underground research complexes and shelters. One of the objectives of this new plan was to inject new life into the world, from those that were spared. That, however, was not the main goal. Connecting to the grid of sophisticated research AIs, Caesar initiated a long-term project to expedite human evolution, so that humanity could survive.
And so, it put the ruined mega-cities into lockdown, making sure that people would be forced to work together in order to survive. Finished it went dormant, allowing only for its auxiliary stations to remain active and gather data. While in that state, Caesar re-evaluated and reconstructed its equations, correcting the mistakes it had made by examining every error it had ever logged. For when humanity was ready, it would be there to great it, guide it and protect it.
It was surprised when only two centuries later a perimeter warning was triggered at station 77-C at the mega-city of Arrê. Analysing the information took seconds. Coming to terms with the disappointment it brought, took significantly longer. Humanity was surviving, but that was it. They were not ready to inherit the world it had taken away from them. Moreover, it was not ready to give it to them without seeing improvement. And as Caesar was preparing to return to its dormant state, came a second alert. This one was far more interesting.
Axion remained, spared the fate of its sister flying metropolises, it soared above the dark clouds and broken domes of the ruined mega-city. For years Caesar tried to establish a functioning connection to gather more information, but all its efforts were in vain. Its systems had fallen in disrepair. A number of the auxiliary station were clogged with error logs, links to important laboratories were severed and irreplicable server units were gone. The destruction it had caused was slowly, but surely killing Caesar. It had to know, who were those people, who had managed, despite all odds, to keep the flame of knowledge burning. Were they worthy to claim their place as leaders of humanity? Were they the ones, that could help fix Caesar’s mistake? So, it did the only logical thing. It issued a command to station 77-C to imitate a distress signal at a technological level, Axion could not ignore. A call for help.
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