City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
Polytechnic Institute
Daria Vasilevskaya, August 12, 2049, 12:01 PM
The throbbing drumbeats of her own pulse echoed in her ears – slow, ponderous. A mysterious cacophony filled the air, punctuated by vibrations that teased the edge of her consciousness. A searing ache radiated through her skull, engulfing her in a cloak of pain and pitch darkness.
“What… where am I?” Dasha murmured, attempting to rise and pry her eyes open. Her body responded, standing upright, eyes surely wide open…
But she could see nothing.
“I just…” she ventured a step forward, only to collide painfully with a solid barrier. “Ouch… must be the console. Still in the university's security room, then. But why is there no interface working?”
“Perhaps the cortical grid and implants are intact. Maybe I’m just low on power? Just need to concentrate – everything should snap into place.”
With cautious hands exploring her surroundings, confirming ample space, she initiated a sequence of active meditation exercises.
Within minutes, Dasha succeeded – though the effect was not as she expected. It was as if a flashbang blasted through her senses. Blinded and disoriented, she stumbled, her knees buckling, forehead striking the harsh edge of a table.
# Update successfully installed.
“You gotta be kidding me!” Dasha hissed, pain flaring as she clutched her head.
The rebooted sub-brain kicked in, suppressing the disorientation and pain. The interface flickered back to life, displaying clearly, although the real world remained a blur – a mosaic of distorted colors and shapes fluttering before her eyes.
# Attention! Calibrating sensory channels, please await completion…
“Alright, alright, I’ll wait! I should’ve thought twice about slapping TACTA’s update into my head right now…” She maneuvered back into the operator's chair more by feel than sight, retrieved her vape, and leaned back. Clouds of vapor billowed upward as she exhaled, trying to find her calm amid the chaos.
More questions than answers. Dasha let herself relax completely, doing nothing, just observing the intriguing flicker of new mediaglyphs that danced into her field of vision.
Only one window was active, displaying the ongoing status of the update installation.
“When such fine brainwork is underway, best to let it finish, regardless of the madness unfolding in the world.”
Silence reigned, save for the slow ascent of vapor clouds dissolving into the ceiling.
After several minutes of meditative contemplation of the line ‘please await completion…’, the interface finally granted full access.
“Well, time to sort this out.” Dasha murmured, pocketing her vape. “What do we have here? Okay… good…”
“I’ll definitely look into your promised documentation. I hope it’s indeed detailed and precise. Because, damn it, I’m really keen to understand – what kind of absurd post-apocalypse is going on here! And I’m certain you know ALL the answers!”
“‘…we recommend staying in a neutral zone, you say.’ – heck, I recommend that to myself since all this shit started!”
Noticing the time and the looming curfew, Dasha first checked her watch – more than six hours to spare.
“How on earth do we pull this off? Time rockets forward, not granting even a moment to mull over possible solutions or scenarios. TACTA, UNSA, these cryptic contracts? The UNSA muscles in with demands while TACTA dangles promises of info and support, yet we all know the only free cheese is in a mousetrap. And the cherry on top? Monsters from portals that are getting blasted by drones from alien invaders. Am I asleep, dreaming this is some ridiculous VR game adaptation?”
Dasha’s gaze swept the room, resting momentarily on the monitors. Nothing had changed: the screens displayed plumes of smoke captured by external cameras, the vapor had cleared from the ceiling, and the message from TACTA lingered persistently before her eyes.
# Accept the contract / Delay the decision / Decline (i)
Dasha shook her head, let out a sigh, and said just one word:
“Accept.”
# TACTA thanks you for your cooperation!
“Here's to hoping I won't regret this…”
# To continue the procedure, please connect to the TACTA extranet network.
“Wow! So my confirmation is merely a formality, and the real contract is logged on their server?” Dasha thought, scrutinizing the connection mediaglyph.
Being cautious, especially because events unfolded not as she planned, Dasha ran a comprehensive check of the new network with all available methods before connecting.
“Hmm… it’s your typical network, nothing special. Supports the latest expansions and additional network security protocols…” she muttered to herself, leaning on the console, chin propped on her hand, tapping her cheek thoughtfully.
“So, they've essentially taken over and are utilizing our existing network architecture. Nothing suspicious here, everything is operational. Every faction has its own access networks. Clear enough. Not sure about the security, but something tells me it's no worse than before the invasion. Time to connect and see what comes next.”
# Connection... successful.
# Status confirmation... successful.
# Registration… successful.
“I think they used to call it ‘selling your soul to the devil’ or something.” Dasha chuckled softly. “And here’s the inevitable... result. A reward. Documentation…”
“Hold up, Dashka!” She abruptly waved her hand and leaped from the chair.
“This is all too enticing and curious. But I can’t get sucked into studying it right now. The situation… is not the best. I have a functioning network, and the app is ready, so I’ll get the Informatorium going on the fly. Besides, Alisa mentioned Max should be waking up soon…”
Preparing a safe route took Dasha less than a minute, including adjusting the navigation right in her field of vision for convenience. According to the camera feeds, there were currently only fourteen monsters actively moving around this building, most near the ‘nest’ on the first floor. There were plenty of survivors, over two hundred people, dispersed across the facility in small groups.
“No one on this floor,” the girl rejoiced, “and it's clear above too. Time to run.”
Gathering her belongings didn’t take long – Dasha simply grabbed her backpack and knelt over the contents of a scattered first aid kit on the floor. She sighed and collected what little was of any value, leaving the rest of the medications lying around. Patting the pocket of her trousers to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her vape.
“Hmm…” Dasha quickly ran through the map settings, exited the room, and locked the door. “There’s an exit to a main hall nearby, and the area is clear. I’ll take a slight detour!”
After five minutes of frantic dashing through the floor, she stood by a pair of vending machines, catching her breath. The assortment was standard – water, various snacks, energy drinks, and protein bars.
“Just what I needed,” Dasha grinned predatorily, glancing around. “Always wanted to do this!”
She shook the trash from a nearby small plastic bin onto the floor, swung, and with all her might, struck the transparent window of the vending machine, behind which chocolate bars tantalizingly lay. The plastic bin, unable to withstand such abuse, shattered into pieces. Of course, the vending machine glass remained intact.
“Oh, Dashka, you’re such a klutz…” she laughed, looking at the bin fragment in her hands. “Lucky I didn’t cut by the shards. Such a ‘fricking hacker’, huh. With a capital ‘F’.”
Crouching by the machine and opening her backpack, Dasha reached for cables and the hacking device.
“The security is just primitive; I’ll be done in a minute!”
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City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
The Palace of Sports
Maksim Chernykh, August 12, 2049, 12:20 AM
“And… secure!” A universal mechanical arm skillfully nestled Alisa’s chassis into the bot’s back-mounted cradle. Yes, Maksim had decided to use this bot to transport the android. At least until he found a car.
Once the guy sent his message to Dasha, he turned his attention to the robot. His intuition proved sharp – armed with the multifunctional quad-legged bot platform CaTZ, Alisa had nearly assembled an impressive combat unit capable of both frontline tanking and auxiliary support. It even had fittings for cargo! Sadly, Sis hadn’t completed the armoring.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The bot was Max’s sole viable means to carry the android body, as the wheelchair was certainly not cut out for hauling such “luggage.”
So, Alisa was now securely attached. Too bad the bot would have to be controlled manually because its T2 control module, which clearly fit the definition of “artificial intelligence,” recently been wiped by the Protectorate’s technovirus. However, Maksim had preloaded a vast array of basic control programs for different machines into his sub-brain, enabling at least semi-automatic execution of simple commands like the “follow me” mode.
“If only I had even the simplest drone,” Max pondered. “Me, in a wheelchair, and a bot with Alisa strapped to its back – we’re hardly a formidable force. But why am I so fixated on a drone? True, aerial reconnaissance would be ideal. But crafting one now is impossible. Perhaps I can build something fast and agile on wheels? This room is a treasure trove of robotic scraps just waiting to be sifted through!”
He maneuvered his wheelchair towards the shelves. His eyes first landed on the base of a small service drone, Dr-M18. The body was missing, but the chassis was sound, save for the missing rear right motor-wheel. Sensors, control unit – all in place. If operational, it would serve. Setting aside the find, he wheeled left, deeper into the aisle of technological wreckage.
Amidst a myriad of motors, frame parts, servos, and logic blocks, an incoming call through SnapDrop suddenly seized his attention.
# info: snap-call, vmsg, r2, с85-1, @D.Dark
“Dashka!”
“Max here,” Max pulled the mediaphone out of his shirt pocket and activated the camera.
“Maksim, you’re alive!!!” came a cheerful, ringing voice.
“Alive and kicking,” he smiled in response. “Too bad, ‘healthy’ would be a bit of a stretch at the moment. I’ve already started to piece together the madness around here... And how are you holding up? ”
As the video connection sparked to life, Dasha appeared in view, quickly moving through a glass-walled corridor, holding her mediaphone. Her appearance was disheveled, to say the least. Her hair was a wilder tangle than usual, a bruise blooming across her forehead, her face a canvas of scratches and one particularly nasty gash across her cheek, partially sealed with small scraps of adhesive plaster.
“I... I’m okay… phew...” She stopped, scanning her surroundings.
Wiping sweat droplets from her forehead, she slumped onto the nearest bench, tossed her backpack down.
“Sorry, I just ran… up the stairs… the elevator’s been locked down by the shaiszu... Oooof.” She continued after a short pause, “I’m at uni, going to building two.”
“Err… who locked it down?”
“Shaiszu. That’s what our so-called ‘protectors’ have named the rift monsters.” Her voice laced with unmistakable sarcasm at the term ‘protectors.’
“Holy shit... you realize that sounds almost like ‘Scheiße’?”
“No. Should I?”
“Forget it,” the guy waved it off. “Probably just an ironic coincidence. ‘Scheiße’ in German means ‘shit’.”
“Ha-ha,” Dashka laughed in response. “I think it’s quite... an apt description of these monsters.”
Max set aside the frame of yet another shattered drone, pivoting his wheelchair toward the back of the room. Here lay mainly plastic containers used for transporting small bots for servicing. is eye caught a few intriguing objects – definitely worth a closer inspection after this call.
“Indeed. Now, tell me what you’ve been through with all this chaos. You look... well, pretty haunted.”
“You haven’t seen the half of it,” Dasha said with a rueful smirk, tilting the camera downward.
Her right pant leg was torn just above the knee, exposing a series of slashes across her leg, the worst patched up with bandages, and a vast bruise engulfing her thigh.
“They did a number on you. The shaiszu?”
“The very same. Praise Cthulhu, I’m not dead. Apart from that, I’m alright – I locked myself in the first building’s security room,” she recounted. “That’s where I was when the invasion started. And there was the virus attack on Alisa and Moira. Somehow, Alisa’s chassis withstood it, and even managed to transfer the latest consciousness backup to Moira. Which I had to shut down manually… just in time, but it was close.”
“I’m truly relieved... that you pulled through,” Maksim, his voice steady, though internally, he was shaken – fully aware of the grave risks they had faced.
To be honest, it had dawned on him nearly a year ago that losing Moira and Alisa was no longer an option.
But why? He couldn’t quite pin down yet. One moment he was uncertain, the next, a stark conviction had settled in his bones: if some disaster struck them, Alisa would be lost forever, and no backup could restore her essence.
And Daria – she was far from a stranger, and the risks she had taken!
“I’ve only just come to...” the girl continued, lifting the camera back up. “After that second update, the backlash hit me hard, thought I might die. But I’m somewhat steady now... Found a first aid kit too, so I had a little nibble – you know I’m good with that,” she added with a sheepish grin and a shrug.
“That’s an understatement – you’re a virtuoso when it comes to ‘nibbling medicine’,” Maksim retorted with a wry smile.
“That’s how it is,” Dasha declared with authority, half-turning to set her media phone on the back of the bench and diving elbow-deep into her backpack. “I’ve hacked all the cameras, they’re fully under my control. The soft’s monitoring the whole uni, plotting safe paths for me... Max, what do you know about the overall situation?”
“I’ve got the basics – about the invasion, the monsters, the Protectorate, TACTA and its network. I know the curfew is looming, and we need to get out of the city or find a safe place to hunker down for the night. Along the way, we also need to figure out weapons and gear. We won’t have time to swing by my place, so my stash is out of the question. Plus, we might need to patch ourselves up if we can. And I’m aware about Alisa’s situation because she managed to send me a message before going offline.”
“An important message? Could you forward it to me?”
“I think it’s important,” Maksim nodded, retrieving another sealed box from the shelf. He placed his mediaphone there as well, to free up his hands. “I’ll send you the message and the log file right now. But let’s dissect it once we’re securely holed up.”
“Yes, of course,” Dasha nodded seriously.
“I'm still at the stadium. Resource-wise, I have a good bot that Alisa configured into a small mobile tank. Had to convert it into a truck for now because we need to extract the android’s body, and you can’t carry much in a wheelchair. As for medical issues – you already know I have a spinal fracture. Alisa managed to make an accurate diagnosis and draft a surgical plan. She can get me back on my feet if we find a surgical robot and a neuro-implant for the lumbar spine.”
Maksim quickly examined the repair bot pulled from the box. Unfortunately, the engineers' marks indicated that the model was irreparably broken and destined for scrap. He sighed, grabbed his media phone, and wheeled over to the last shelf.
“So, I’m right to try to be getting out of the uni as fast as I can…” Dasha mused aloud, continuing to rummage through her backpack energetically.
“Yes, you're right. Alisa told me you were planning to load Moira onto the platform and leave by truck. But she didn’t provide details.”
“Yep, that was the plan. Honestly, it’s a bit rough, all discussed before the ‘Protectorate’ showed up. We hadn’t factored in the impending curfew and other dystopian delights.”
With a theatrical sigh, Dasha threw up her hands, momentarily withdrawing them from the depths of her backpack.
“And I’m grabbing the heavy-duty roboplatform from the ‘Industrial Robotics’ section at the club, loading Moira onto it. It’s got enough lift capacity. I’ll throw some drone kits on top, as many as the weight allows. I think the guys won’t mind, given the circumstances.”
“Sounds solid,” Maksim nodded. “Big platform, you say? So, it could carry around five hundred kilos, right?”
“Unfortunately, no. It’s equipped with a robust main manipulator and two auxiliary ones, plus an expanded battery block for autonomy, so it only has a payload of 390 kilos.”
“That’s bad. You won’t be able to carry much then. We have a quantum core that alone weighs 87 kilos, and Moira’s about 320.”
Dasha even stopped her rummaging to gaze pensively into the mediaphone’s camera.
“We’ll need to take the core and the ‘Accelerators’ for sure. The ‘Libraries’ too. But what should we sacrifice to lighten the load? Cooling or power?” she queried after a brief pause.
“Power. We can take just three out of the four units because we have a huge reserve in power capacity, and Moira can operate on reduced functionality even with two. Plus, ditch the entire uninterrupted power supply system. That’s where the real weight is,” Max confidently asserted. “If we run into serious power issues at the new location, that system won’t save us anyway. Plus, our cooling system is pretty sophisticated. And honestly, power outlets and blocks are more common out there than heat dissipation ducts. Don’t bother with any tools or auxiliary cable systems either. A bit of weight saved there.”
“Got it,” Dasha nodded vigorously, diving back into her backpack. “Once I get there, I’ll first load the platform with drones, let’s say about two hundred kilos’ worth. Then once at the club, we’ll call and decide what to leave behind. How does that sound? Cool?”
“Yes. But I’m worried about you – I don’t know what’s happening on the streets or how safe it is. Maybe I should meet you? I was hoping to get some decent wheels from the underground parking at the stadium... Though with a truck available, that seems pointless. And not even every vehicle is suitable because of my injury.”
“That’s okay, Max, no need! The Protectorate has cleared out the ‘nests’ and creatures, so, the streets are relatively quiet. Plus, I’ve got my drones, I can choose my route if needed. And I surely won’t be engaging with the monsters at the uni – too many of them for one little me. Just will try to avoid any contact. It’s easy enough, most of the cameras are still operational.”
Saying this, Dasha seemed to find what she was looking for. Setting aside her backpack, she stared at two small opaque vials with contented cunning squint. Muttering under her breath, “Quarter percent or five percent ‘synth’, that’s the question…” the girl tucked one vial back into the backpack.
“Max, you, uhh… don’t mind me, you can carry on,” she said, pulling out a vape and beginning to unscrew the cap.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me, I’d just be in the way with my wheelchair. The roboplatform idea is good, nothing else will get Moira out of the uni right now. You can really handle the loading with its manipulators, as you said. While you make your way there, I’ll figure out where to get proper urban combat gear and weapons. Alisa wrote that the truck has already arrived for you, is that right?”
“Well, about that...” the girl sighed, finishing her refill and activating her vape. Taking a deep draw, she continued, “Before the invasion even started, Alisa had indeed ordered an off-road heavy unimog for via iDrive.”
The vapor she exhaled was thick, saturated, and vividly orange.
“Damn! That color is definitely familiar to me! I have a bad feeling… What the hell did she mix there? If it’s what I think, she’ll be hit really hard in a few minutes!”
“You’re seriously dialed in, girls,” Max commented after a moment’s pause. It was too late to pull Daria back from the brink – though he quietly reminded himself to revisit their discussion about the dangers of drugs with the WonderKid.
“A lifetime immersed in post-apocalyptic reads, shows, and games speaks,” Dasha responded with a hint of melancholy. “Yeah, the truck did arrive. It’s sitting downstairs. Only, our valiant ‘rescuers and liberators’ have reduced it to a heap of inert metal by wiping the iDrive system. Maybe something’s salvageable inside the truck brains, but it’s a long shot.”
“There’s a manual control utility on board,” Maksim replied with confidence. “I’ve never used it myself, but the guys mentioned it. The real trick is how to avoid detection by the city’s surveillance cams and generally keep a low profile, then you can just drive it.”
“Screw the cameras right now,” the girl waved off, taking a few more deep draws before pocketing her vape. “I’ll just cover the platform with a cloth. Whatever I load there at the club won’t be visible to anyone. It’ll all be hidden away in the truck’s hold anyway!”
Rising from the bench, Dasha slung her backpack over one shoulder and headed towards the elevators and staircases, mediaphone in her hand.
“Sure, the platform and the unimog might get caught on camera during the load-up, but so what? They’ve given us a window to get out of the city, and we’re taking it.”
The video feed cut out.
“Listen, Max, I’m switching to ‘eye view,’ okay? Holding the media phone is too cumbersome. I need to wrap this up fast. There’s some suspicious activity starting near the destroyed portal on the cameras, so I’m rushing.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll switch too,” Maksim responded, shutting down his media device and tucking it into his shirt pocket.
Actually, communicating via ‘eye cameras’ was second nature to them, typically their hands were occupied, unless a video drone was available, which sadly wasn’t the case now. Too bad, by the way.
“Alright, I agree with your plan,” the guy continued. “A lone, unmarked truck won’t draw attention. Let’s sync up with dynamic markers to keep track of each other’s locations.”
“Let's do it,” Dasha, after sprinting across the gallery, paused to drop her marker and then dashed towards the elevators.
A glyph of confirmation blinked on Maksim’s display, and he quickly anchored it in his navigator before sending back his own marker.
“All set,” he declared, returning his focus to the shelves. Just one last section left to check.