The bad thing about performing
a heroic act before dying...
is that after doing it you die.
Connina, disco world
Sentence used by the science teacher when he receives the Internet and the squad leader's last conversation, "that's why I sent them... anyone knew that those trucks only attack what is in their path, but you wanted so badly to be the hero... in you really looked good, Asshole!".
UPGRADE
There are inventions that are better than the established ones...
and there are those that are more attractive or cheaper and
do not provide the necessary performance, both sell.
The first for usefulness and the second for being newer.
Notions of business administration
And I restarted the device… the logo changed; There was no longer that exotic flower, logo and signature of our Mother Nature Company, in its place menus appeared to choose the way and form in which we wanted our logo, the images ranged from a circle to a lot of erotic figures, each more explicit than the previous one, scenes of carnage with looks lost in ecstasy, both of the mutilator and the mutilated... I chose, after much searching, an image more complex than the original logo, but upon entering my system... Everything had changed.
The installation of the updates took us by surprise. It was to be expected that once there was Internet, the computer center where I studied all my life should have new updates. Generally, they were only RSS updates with news about variants of combat methods or the best use of weapons, but this time It was not like that, the download speed was something of panic, more than 100 MBits/sec., a speed that our equipment did not have; It was the speed at which the hard drives worked and downloaded at the transfer speed of my memory... and even then it was not enough, after the first reboot, even access to my session was interrupted, another update was pending, little by little Little did I see the most obvious changes, as the system was "upgraded" I noticed that my terminal was becoming a graphical terminal... not that it did not have graphics before, but the maps within the system and the image analysis programs were called from commands written in the terminal, now icons calling the system began to appear; about the third day of updates, a beep from my terminal woke me up.
In my dreams I checked my proximity alarm... Nothing, then it was the biological contamination system, fire alert, attackers from my great beast defeated, then I noticed a small icon that I didn't have before, in the shape of an email, it beeped every minute... When I activated it, a very correct woman came out telling me that my system was obsolete. How obsolete is a high-processing system! It's military equipment, the best of the best! But the lady in the image remained undaunted and said that my system would be updated to the maximum that was possible with the license installed on my laptop.
Until the week was up my computer didn't stop restarting. Every time the screen warned of a forced reload, things changed little by little, I had the latest version of the militia, but as we progressed things changed, the versions jumped, from 12.x to 14.x and from there at 20.x, then only a binary number came out, when it finished... The number was nine digits!
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The screen turns on. Now a mobile background greets me, there are notifications regarding the decline regarding the definition of its images, but here it is; back online. The encyclopedia was the one that suffered the most changes: when I open it, it indicates whether I want to keep the information and mix it with the new information or if it will only replace it. In that and all the answers I asked that my military-style information be preserved, then I was happy: I was finally able to see the divided maps, the terrain in which I trained in the simulators and compared it with the territories of this new existence.
The most obvious thing (apart from the disappearance of many buildings and entire cities) is that many roads are still passable, especially a very interesting one located about two kilometers from the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, in the State of Veracruz, where several paradise-like constructions; there are several beaches and an incredible concentration of vegetation, but just when I am going to zoom in on some strange constructions, the garbage begins, a loud advertisement, 'the best vacations for soldiers, include sparebodies (whatever it is). What they mean?), they offer me the pleasure of men, women, children, the elderly and almost a whole range of animals prepared to provide a break from my military duties', closing that window awaits me one of a religious man shouting at me "sinner"... I eliminate that one and other windows that offer redemption and sin, often alternating, when I finally discover that they are desalination plants, Chuy has already gone up to try to find out why so much moaning, scolding and screaming. Once I explain, the two of us try to figure out what's going on, apparently I have a severe case of junk information and we block all the unwanted screens. It's two in the morning and I can't determine who lives in such luxury. I'm sure some surviving CEO must live there; There are automata specialists, both in crops and in protecting them, I can see the assault weapons; They are specialists in destroying their target, they look like nothing more than cylinders suspended in the air but I know that inside they keep the laser batteries and about 2000 depleted uranium bullets, anyone who tries to be close to them would be turned into a gummy mass of pulsating flesh... And yet there were facilities there, many of them scientific and others for survival, we cannot depend exclusively on the food that is left here. We still have enough to last us a lifetime... But we don't want civilization to end the moment we die! You have to establish a battle plan.
The morning brings us better news, apparently there are some leaders of the tribes that surround us and are at the entrance to the hospital, Mali asks us not to eliminate them before listening to them, when I look into his eyes I know that they fed him some delicacy, perhaps an arm or tissue from the back, I am no more upset than Chuy even though that may mean that we cannot trust much in someone who is lost for meat.
On the outskirts there are many circuits scattered on the floor, a couple of unused bullets, a crude catapult and a handful of people with hungry faces who look at us with a fearful expression; At the moment I'm about to speak, Chuy uses his windpipe communicator and asks me to stop; This communicator is the only way that no one hears us arguing, they only hear us murmuring and the conversation is private. Mali comes out and explains where they come from. Most of them are remains of several villages, mutilated, weak and in some cases just corpses walking; They plunder everything that is left over in the villages; They came after the army that attacked us and when they saw that no one left here they knew that they had to serve their great black god, so without shame they indicate that they brought us all the technology they found in exchange they ask for the territories occupied by the dead village. Chuy raises his hand in sign and Mali explains that they will have to serve us in the war as well. Most of them don't even flinch, they nod, leave their presents and retire to live where their home is now.
In the laboratory we use the fixed computer to allow us to enlarge the shots to the shelter facilities, I see beautiful and shapely bodies sunbathing, contemptuously consuming food that I only heard about, hitting each other, alone, in an example of abandonment and of sybarites... And I get angry. How could they train generations of us? So that? We lived through hell in that damn place! And they are fine; They are in luxury in a place where food is within reach, no one bothers to raise a hand to prepare, no one sows; no one harvests more than those bots, no one saw the others die because the training was very hard, one look at Chuy's eyes and I know that he also has a lot to claim, so much so that I can see how a tear and a drop of blood emanate through his eyes and the corner of his mouth.
We had an army, but there are no weapons, we do not have training for so much waste of humanity, according to me I have a salary that they gave me in that school, anyway and I can ask for weapons or something, but a thousand ads later tell me that my password It is not accepted in this system, which can only give me credit if I belong to the big five (who know them at home), the truth is that we have nothing against defense bots, perhaps the catapult can handle some but it is very likely that we have to face landmines and some other defenses before we can get against those smugs who have no idea what's going on around them. Disillusioned by this, I begin to close windows, just as the telnet arrives... It contained a single invitation: "for revenge seekers."