City-21 “Kyiv”, UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
Polytechnic Institute
Daria Vasilevskaya, August 12, 2049, 12:24 PM
Dasha had already sprinted to the elevator and paused to call it. Situated midway through the building, she only needed to ascend four floors and make her way to the far end.
No need to rush now, so the girl pulled out her mediaphone again and switched the camera to show her beaming smile.
Maksim thought to himself, “Damn, when she smiles that much, it’s rarely a good sign! What was in that vape of hers? Could it really have been five percent synth? I’d rather not believe it...”
“So, tell me,” Dasha meanwhile, quizzed, “did you manage to review much of the info that TACTA sent over?”
“No,” Max shook his head, “I came to just slightly before you, also struggling with severe aftereffects. Installed Informatorium, checked it out, and got overwhelmed by the store. What do you think of a flying tank with a heavy blaster cannon for a freakin’ bunch of TACTA’s cash?”
“Umm… seriously? A flying tank in an online shop? It’s not just shock, I... I don't know what to say. Sure, buying a tank online might be okay. But a flying one? That’s really hard to believe; I did study physics at school, you know...”
“But there it is. Looks like we’ve got a lot to discuss. But right now, all these tech marvels are out of reach – we can’t safely call a drone in Kyiv. And I still didn’t figure out where to get TACTA’s money. Besides, I also saw a huge pack of documentation, but just saved it for now; we can check it out together later. There are some promising prospects since the API allows for software developement.”
“Impressive! Too bad I didn’t get a chance to really dig into anything at all,” Dasha responded with a hint of frustration as she bounced slightly, waiting for the elevator. “I’m just installing Informatorium now…”
Maksim continued, “that’s my point. The Protectorate’s warning hasn’t gone anywhere, after all. We need to skip town with the time we have left. I even set a timer in front of my eyes, even though I hardly believe it’s possible.”
“I have a timer too!” Dasha flashed a broad smile as she stepped into the elevator. “Heading up now, then it’s a dash for the platform. We’ll do the im… possible.”
And she burst out into a guffaw. Laughter filled the air, eyes sparkling, the video jittering as she held the camera.
“Damn you, Vasilevskaya, did you really hit the synth-five?!”
Dasha, caught, giggled, “Oppsie… busted… Maxy, don’t… ha-ha-ha… don’t worry, it’s gonna pass soon! It’s just temporary, I’ve still got work to do… today. Or is it tomorrow? And the platform, plat… form… ha-ha-ha! Plat for... mama!”
As the elevator doors closed and it began its ascent, Dasha, that little rascal, slid down the wall in laughter. Her media phone clattered to the floor, camera facing down, leaving Maksim staring at a ‘black screen’ in their video chat.
He could only sigh. “What can you do? Genius comes with its downsides, not always pleasant. I just hope Dasha recovers quickly. With her experience, she can handle a five percent hit… I’m sure she double-checked the entire route before loading heavy drugs into her vape. And she knows the dangers, really… And she follows safety rules. It’s just the situation right now is… complicated. But, damn, what the hell! Ugh…”
“Guess I’ll tinker with drones and bots while that little Trickster sobers up… Whatever I find, I’ll work with. Look, there’s something valuable on that lower shelf!”
Max maneuvered his wheelchair closer, squinting attentively. It seemed like the right item. Reaching out was a struggle in his chair, as immobile legs made it uncomfortably challenging. At last, he managed to hook and extract a matte plastic container. Heavy… The label on the lid read “broken mod. AP/4.”
From the floor of the elevator, where she lay sprawled with closed eyes, Dasha murmured, half to herself, “Informatorium?” She scoffed lightly, “Sure, let’s see what marvels you hold...”
Pulling out the container, Max glanced back at the chat – still just a black screen. The stream was ongoing from the fallen media phone.
Max thought, “Her mind might be going adrift amid the stress and that unmistakable hit of five percent synth... She needs a wake-up call.” He dialed up the virtual sound booster to maximum:
“Spaceship Dark-One, spaceship Dark-One to base, do you copy?!!”
“Wha?!” Startled, Dashka jumped and shook her head as if to clear it. “What the –? Oh, maaan… My bad, drifted there for a sec. All good... I’m getting up now.”
The camera flicked back to her point of view. The girl was still on the elevator floor, now stopped at her destination with the doors open, stubbornly staying that way as sensors detected her presence. Max woke her up just in time.
He urged with concern. “Dasha, do me a favor, hold off on any more five percent until you can get to a proper pharma, alright?”
Dasha chuckled, regaining her composure, “Alright, alright, Max… wasn’t expecting that to hit so…” she trailed off as Max watched her rise and step out of the elevator. The ground was littered with debris, concrete chunks, and shattered glass, with ominous dark-red spots splattered across.
As the girl picked up pace, her gaze darted, capturing details: deep gouges marred the walls, bullet marks, doors hung off hinges, a ceiling light lay shattered.
She paused briefly by a demolished door, peering inside: the door was not just broken but shredded, the room a chaos of overturned, smashed furniture and red stains on every surface... And a hand. A severed human hand lay in a pool of blood on the floor.
Seeing it, Dasha nearly stumbled but caught herself and sprinted forward with increased urgency.
“WonderSpark, it’s too late to help anyone in that room now! We need to get out of the city, fast! Focus!”
“Sorry… got a bit scared there!” Dasha apologized.
While still monitoring the media stream, Maksim turned his attention to the container. Success! Inside was almost a brand-new courier bot. The chassis looked intact, no apparent damage. He could simply strip off the cargo block, hook up the power, and configure it for manual control – it was equipped for that, even cameras included. The bot was pretty agile, making it ideal for reconnaissance.
Max reflected, “Luck is finally smiling on us, if you can call it luck in today’s mayhem.”
He resolved, “A shame about the drones though. Searched the whole room, nothing flyable, nothing fitting. Well, I’ll take the ‘courier’ for diagnostics. Let’s see what it’s capable of.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Max!” Dasha switched the camera back on. There she was, at the doorstep of the ‘Industrial Robotics’ section, panting after a mad dash through the corridors.
“Good job! I saw what was happening on your way! Well handled!”
“You know… it’s a nightmare out here. Did you know these creatures are dragging people to their ‘nest’?” Her breathing was heavy, her voice trembled. “The entire floor… covered in blood. How could there be so much? There weren’t that many people at the university today!”
“It’s a lot because humans have a lot of blood,” Maksim stated matter-of-factly. “I’m truly sorry that all this is happening, but we must survive and keep fighting! Right now, we have only one option – to avoid contact with the shaiszu at all costs. You did well taking control of the cameras!”
“Let’s change the subject now – think about something else. What about the drones in the ‘robotics’ section? They must have some there, right? And look at this beauty I found!” He showcased the bot, positioning it before his eyes.
“Thanks… for the support. And… that unit… it looks cool,” Dasha replied. “Our club’s library… has the software ready… for direct control of such a gizmo. Whew… I haven’t run like that in ages. Okay, I’m going in.”
The doors opened, and Dasha entered the section. This department was large, sprawled across more than half the floor with its various classrooms and workshops.
“Do you remember where to find what you’re looking for?” asked Maksim, as he clamped the bot he’d found into a workbench.
“I know the place. Was here just a couple of days ago when the guys were finishing up the assembly. They were supposed to start testing today.”
“Great. Go on then, and I’ll get this bot up and running.”
He slightly minimized the videocall window and slid it to the corner of his view to lessen distractions. Max was well acquainted with this type of bot; now he just needed to assess its condition. He activated the workbench from its slumber and connected his discovery.
While the system was booting up, he found and connected the power cable to charge the machine during the initial check.
“Okay, it seems to be powering on.” Maksim waited as the built-in self-test ran.
“Great, no error messages!” The bot beeped twice briefly, as if to say, “All set to work.” Excellent, the diagnostic program then started a full check, and the report will be ready in about five minutes.
“Got it!” Dasha’s voice rang with triumph.
With a few minutes to spare, Max decided to see how she was doing. He mentally switched to “full presence” mode and reclined slightly in his chair.
“Hi there!” she giggled, noticing his change in mode.
“Hopefully, her mind has cleared up; because Dasha’s frequent laughter, honestly, unnerves me right now.” Max pondered. “Or maybe I'm just overly sensitive to emotions right now. It's probably she is just stressed.”
“Come on, show off,” he said, curiously observing the scene through Daria's eyes.
She was in a pretty extensive professional workshop. Right in the center stood the sought-after platform. A hefty beast – four-legged, slightly over four meters in length and two in width, equipped with a powerful universal manipulator and two auxiliary ones. If not loaded with any additional equipment and used in “cargo mode,” Moira would definitely fit.
By the looks of it, testing was in full swing. The necessary gear had already been installed on the platform and connected to the workshop computers.
“A solid choice,” he noted. “This machine has it all – mobility, versatility, robustness.”
“Yup,” Dasha replied, hopping into the operator’s seat. “Let's see if there’s anything left in this brain.”
“In yours?”
“Ha-ha, Max. Hilarious.”
“Come on, don't sulk, I'm just nervous!”
“Hmmpf!”
“I gotta change the subject!”
“Hey, WonderDasha, what were you mumbling in the elevator about Informatorium?”
“Err…” as her hand flashed in front of the camera, it looked like she was scratching her head. “I didn’t ‘zone out’ in the elevator, on the contrary, I ‘sped up’ and ‘flew.’ That ‘Informatorium’ thing first caught my interest. So, I installed it, downloaded the documentation, FAQ, the dev-kit… Basically, everything I could.”
“Did you manage to dig up anything useful?” asked the guy, watching as Dasha, connected through the workshop computer, checked the platform’s status.
“Just the basics. I’ve been running around the uni most of the time… But while I was lying around in the elevator, I made a little something. Here, check this out.”
A mediaglyph flickered into view, indicating that Dasha had initiated a broadcast of her ‘virtual desktop’. Activating it, Maksim switched modes and moved the ‘eye view’ image to the upper-right corner.
Before him unfolded a multi-layered diagram of connections, an intellect-map of sorts. Indeed, not many connections were established yet; Dasha had chosen TACTA as the first “central concept.” The first branch was “rating,” the second “partnerships.”
In the partnerships section were all the points he had seen before. They were currently inaccessible, linked to the “rating” section by a locking block. Nevertheless, Dasha had attached detailed comments to each point. Additionally, under general notes, she wrote, “Check docs in the dev-kit manual for more details!!! For coders, seems there's a partial unlock of the TACTA wiki without rating needed, gotta check!”
“So, what are your thoughts on these gamification fans?” asked Max. From the ‘eye view,’ it appeared Dasha had already checked the platform and was now simply uploading the control software for it.
“Freaking déjà vu…” Dasha mused aloud, her fingers absently spinning her vape, but she refrained from indulging. “You know, there’s a ton of media out there with these narratives. In almost every game or VR show where monsters invade, or the world ends, they introduce some kind of ‘system,’ ‘rating,’ and ‘upgrades.’ Thankfully, they don’t dish out ‘experience points’ for slaying monsters here. At least we’re spared that cliché.”
“Speaking of which, WonderKid… have you actually managed to kill any monsters yet?”
“Well… no. You?”
“Nope, me neither. So, who knows what other surprises might be waiting for us.”
“I just hope we don’t end up with some ridiculous ‘loot and level’ mechanic for monster kills!”
“Never fancied yourself in such a scenario?”
“Max, I’m a… normal girl. There are... far nicer things I’d rather dream about!” At her words, Dasha blushed, invisible for Maksim in the ‘eye view’, of course. “And... to be honest, I once tried to say ‘Status’ out loud...”
“Ha-ha, seriously? And how did that pan out?”
“Max, darn it!”
While chatting, he perused Dasha’s notes in the ‘market’ section. Currency details were predictably sparse:
@The primary currency is the TACTA grant. One grant is divided into 100 lessers. Blockchain. The issuance is strictly controlled and backed by ‘obligations.’ Digging deeper requires a rating.
“Where the hell did she dig all that up, and when did she have the time? There was nothing about this in the brief market and currency guide!”
@After being assigned a rating, a certain STARTING (the calculation method unknown!) amount will be credited to your account. You can earn money by completing tasks, selling goods and raw materials, and it will also accumulate regularly based on your rating. Sort of like Universal Basic Income, but TACTA-style.
@Any action related to the initial crediting of grants to a blockchain account requires a drone call!! Hardware verification? Some kind of complex identification? It’s all too complicated. Why is that? Must investigate! Eventually, there should be permanent stationary points in some populated areas, but currently, nothing within a 500 km radius of Kyiv. More detailed info is unavailable.
“Hey, WonderWhiz, where did you dig up so much stuff about the currency?” asked Max, already guessing what she’d say.
“The dev-kit, duh. Who do you think I wrote that note for? The one that says where to find the full docs?” Dashka quipped mischievously.
“You little Trickster! Okay, just tell me, did you manage to find this ‘starting amount’? A least roughly? What can we buy with it?”
“I dunno.” Dasha shrugged. “No ‘legs,’ or rather, no rating, no goodies.”
Max inadvertently glanced at his own legs confined to the wheelchair, and Dasha faltered.
“Oh… S-sorry, I… didn’t mean… to say it like that… It was just a joke. A stupid one.”
“No worries, WittyWonder,” Maksim reassured with a dismissive gesture. “But is there even a hint as to why they need all this? I don’t buy such ‘benevolent attractions’ being genuine, especially not in the midst of an interplanetary invasion. Even more with monsters!”
“Hard to say for sure. They definitely seem interested in selling us their finished goods, and, apparently, buying raw materials from us. As for what ‘missions’ are, I really have no idea. Seriously... it’s not like crafting and clearing monsters in an MMORPG… right? That kind of thing can’t happen in real life, huh?”
“All the info on that topic is locked in the dev-kit,” Dasha said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Well, once we get a rating, the access to more information will be available. And I certainly agree with you, we can’t call a drone just yet.”
“That’s why we’ll ‘take off with what we have’,” Max chuckled. “Yet, I have a feeling we’ll really need that bloody drone, and the sooner, the better.”
“Alright, Max, I’m really glad you’re okay; I was genuinely worried,” Dasha said, switching off the camera. “Listen, I need to drop off for a bit, got some quick coding to do, then I’m heading to the club, alright?”
“It’s OK, looking forward to your call.”
“Dasha, signing out.”