Christ, was there anything remotely useful in this mailbox?
Neurotoxin Capsule (SR): A single oval tablet full of military-grade neurotoxin. Ingesting it will release the neurotoxin into the recipient’s body (i.e. Fatal Poisoning status effect). Do not place within food.
An infiltration specialist broke open her tooth and swallowed one of these. She died on the spot. The next moment, we burst into the room and growled at the lost intel. Fun times!
Spare Drone Parts (R): A small drone repair kit with basic repair functions. Suits all kinds of drones, including nanobots.
I’d been needing this if I ran into Teric. Forget flowers or chocolates—this was a woman who only cared for practical tools.
Gas Mask (R): A khaki-colored gas mask. Useful for traversing smoky or toxin-infused airspaces. Your voice will be muffled while wearing this.
Barbed Wire Coil (R): A coil of steel barbed wire. Great for forming barriers or strangling someone. Enemies hit by the wire will receive the Bleeding status effect.
Field-Ration Kit (R): A kit full of military rations. The taste of MREs leaves something to be desired, but most soliders are used to them. Beggers can’t be choosers.
All three of these would be useful on large open battlefields. Too bad the Ration Kit didn’t display what MREs were contained inside…
Pizza Box (R): It’s just Hawaiian pizza. In a recent poll, it was revealed that 99.9% of all South Americans enjoyed pineapple on pizza. Two days later, a new Minor Anomaly with pizza-related memetic effects was discovered and suppressed.
Regardless of what people thought of pineapples, hot food was hot food.
Adrenaline Injection (SR): Liquified adrenaline stored in a ready to use syringe. Inject it to restore all Energy and temporarily increase your STRENGTH, ENDURANCE and AGILITY by 3 for the duration of the conflict. Afterwards, receive -2 to all stats for the duration of the next conflict.
Oh, these things. Tried them once five years ago and swore them off forever. The high was amazing, but the cooldown was like getting icy nails battered into your head for hours. The manufacturers in my timeline hadn't dealt with Impurities, so perhaps they figured out how to reduce the side-effects.
Bloody Tomahawk (SR): A tomahawk with the hilt and blade coated in swathes of bloody smears. No amount of cleaning fluid shall wipe the stains off. Creator is unknown. Scales with STRENGTH and INSIGHT.
Now this was an interesting one. A combat knife was decent for slicing and stabbing, but nothing could beat the raw blunt force trauma of a good Tomahawk. Smash it down into an open chest, break the ribs and gouge the flesh and, boom, the enemy was down. It had additional utility for breaking walls or doors as well.
Starry Chunk (R): A piece of a meteorite. Sell it for a decent price or trade it in to various collectors.
Maybe Cosmos would like this.
Moon Scented Cloak (SR): A large overcoat smelling faintly of moon dust and wintery leaves. Its back holds an emblem of an unknown woman standing firm beneath a tapestry of stars. Parts of the inner fabric have been hastily repaired with synth fibre, too. Despite its lack of armor padding, wearing it will increase your defense against physical blows.
This is an anomalous item, right?
Correct! A Minor Anomaly, since its effects are neither widespread or too dangerous.
Accursed Paper Doll (SR): A faceless, featureless paper doll that radiates a foul energy. The Bloodwerks group sell these dolls on the underground market, both as art pieces and weapons against the controlling grip of world governments. Crush it in your palm to unlock a random, Bloodwerks-related Impurity Resonance for the next few conflicts.
Wait, this can happen?
Yep! The emotions and will of Impurities and anomalies can be imprinted within certain items. They act as a substitute for proper Impurity Resonance if you lack the Research levels. I have to recommend against using them to the point of abuse.
How ominous. The rest of the items were…well, they weren’t garbage (except for that damn figurine), but I doubted they had any purpose in the upcoming Impurity suppression. Maybe if I ran out of weapons I could smack the tree with the frying pan or something.
Mission Complete:
Acquired 400 $NF, 500 Alexandrite and 4x SR Item Caches!
Congratulations on learning the new systems, Boss! Enjoy your rewards!
SR Item Cache (SR): Duplicates any existing SR item on person or in the Inventory. Item is immediately deposited in front of the user.
Wait, what about the Shop option? I asked.
What about it, Boss?
Where’s the tutorial for that?
It’s just a mail order service linked to an underground arms dealer. You can purchase weapons and items from there and they'll arrive instantly. It’s unlocked now, so check if out if you want.
I accessed the option from the menu and confirmed that it indeed was just an ordinary webpage, albeit one linked to a highly illegal organisation. It was structured like any other online shopping service, selling poisons, weapons and esoteric charms instead of clothes and cans of food. Somehow I could browse it from inside my own mind. My thought processes substituted the cursor, which sadly was one of the least anomalous experiences I’ve had so far.
That’s a bit anticlimactic. What's the catch?
There is no catch.
You're kidding me.
No, not at all, Boss. If INTERFACE-OS wants to use third-party software to accomplish a task, who am I to complain?
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
I am going to refill my ammunition now.
Go on, use it, Boss. I’m not stopping you.
Paid 300 $NF! Ammunition has been fully replenished.
----------------------------------------
The nightly research was fruitful in helping me understand the agricultural state of Australia. Alternative farming methods were an emerging trend in my timeline, only experimented by upstart corporations or research departments of governments. The amount of ground lost to Impurities made them a necessity in this world.
Apartment blocks were encouraged to setup communal rooftop farms to ease the burden on the markets. Underground caverns had been dug in the outskirts of the city and filled in with sunless farms. An Impurity had terraformed the deserts in Australia’s center into fertile land, albeit littered with dangerous Spawn. The government had setup hydroponics and traditional farming stations around the border, taking advantage of newly formed rivers and filtration technology.
To top it all off, IEHAR had their fingers in each of these pies. Not officially, strictly speaking. They did, however, distribute an amazing piece of inhouse technology from the olden times, a Beneficial Anomaly that could rip toxins from the soil and break them down into basic elements. An entire conference was dedicated to this gift of charity twenty years ago, in which an entire auditorium clapped and cheered as Impurities tore up Northern America into an ashen-filled hellhole.
This is great and all, but it’s not telling me where the next Impurity might be. Bearbrass possessed a few nature reserves and public gardens, but none of them were domed nor large forests. Possibly because Impure Zones distorted spaces to mismatch their dimensions?
Maybe it’s inside the Facility-117? A containment breach? No luck there either. IEHAR kept most of their secrets from the public. They dressed it up in bureaucratic jargon and slick UI and it didn’t change the lack of transparency about the anomalies kept locked up. ‘For the public’s own safety’, said the authoritarian charity service as it tried to hide records about throwing death-row prisoners into the anomalous meat grinder. Facility-117 was one of the smaller IEHAR bases, but again that didn’t tell me much. Social media was too mixed and overflowing with misinformation to waste time on.
Damn it, I only have the timer to go on. This sucks.
There’s only so much you can do. I think you’ve done a very good job, Boss!
I tuned out ALICE’s messages as I lay down in the bed and closed my eyes. The night passed without incident. The next morning, I wolfed down convenience-store cornflakes with orange juice the next morning, washed my face and got into the escort vehicle for transferral. The ride navigated through busy morning traffic and out the freeway towards the Facility sitting on the outskirts of the city. I noticed several vehicles gave wide berths to us, much like how they would towards ambulances and police cars in my timeline. Interesting.
I yawned. My sleep was okay, yet I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. That’s the price you pay from continuous fights. Mental or physical, it all takes a toll on your reserves. It’s why any half-decent soldier develops the ability to sleep anywhere. A powernap could end up as the key factor between staying awake on patrol or dozing off and letting your teammates get pummelled into meat scraps.
Some shuteye wouldn’t hurt. My life wasn’t in any danger. It was only five minutes. I was in a stable environment and protected by an IEHAR operator. The car shook and back and forth to a pleasant, sideways rhythm. Exhaustion swept over my body like a tidal wave and I was drifted off into slumber like an actual, real kid…
…
…
…
“Would Number 195 please come to the front desk?”
An unfamiliar, autotuned voice. The Ambient hum of terminal computers scratching nerves like insects. A water cooler gurgled, dispensing liquid into a plastic cup. Feet shuffled, hands kneaded together and holo-phones flickered on and off. I opened my eyes and saw myself sitting on a plastic chair inside a circular waiting room.
“Excuse me?” A man in a jacket and thick pants nudged me on the shoulder. A mic was attached to his mouth. A baton and a taser lay in pockets along a thick plastic belt. “It’s your turn.”
“My what?” I asked, eyes darting around the area.
“Your turn. You’re number 195, right?” The security guard said. “Time for your treatment.”
Treatment? “Sorry, is this IEHAR?”
“No? This is GreenFuture, an experimental agriculture laboratory. You’re here to try out their new food therapy, aren’t you?” The security guard said, both confused and unamused. He jerked his thumb to the men and women sitting next to me. They were the lower-class type with their mass-produced, bland shirts and dresses coupled with sullen expressions. “Look son, if you’ve changed your mind, can I ask you to step outside? We’ve got a long queue today.”
I stared past the security guard towards the front desk. A secretary tapped fast on a keyboard behind a glass wall. Behind him was the holo-logo of not a globe cradled by hands, but rather a vivid green leaf crossed with a medicine bottle. A torrent of curses echoed through my brain. A casino wheel of contingency plans spun like a top, landing with a screeching halt. “I need to shit.” I blurted out.
The security guard’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“I said, I need to shit.” I clutched my stomach and scrunched up my face into prune wrinkles. “Oh Jesus Christ, the flood is coming. Shouldn’t have eaten that curry last night!”
“Wait, hold on—”
“It’s gonna blow!” I hollered. My neighbors were watching and recoiling in their seats. “It’s puckering at the tip of my anus already! T-minus five, four, three, two…on—”
The security guard yanked me from my seat, whirled me around and shoved me towards a corridor to the left of the waiting room. “Toilets are down the hallway and to your left! Go!”
“Thanks man!” I yelled as I scarpered off. The security guard and the secretary, shot me disgusted glares as I left. There were distinct mutters of 'disgusting' and 'young people these days' as I rounded the corner. I ran down the hallway, flung open the restroom door and shoved myself into an empty stall. I didn't lock it, instead glancing up. No cameras. The handgun dropped from my inventory and I switched the empty magazine for a fresh one.
ALICE. I thought through clenched teeth and a pounding part.
Right here!
Where am I? What happened? This isn’t the IEHAR Facility! Did the car get raided or what?
I don’t know, Boss.
Oh, for the love of... Don’t give me that crap! You’re with me all the time!
No, I mean I have a gap in my memories too. It’s very concerning! Shall we utilize your newly acquired items to perform some investigative work?
That gave me pause. What do you mean your memories?
Check your status.
I did so and noticed a new status effect.
Memory Loss (Minor): -2 to WILLPOWER until the missing memories are understood/recovered.
A sick sensation rose like oil slick. I closed my eyes and recounted my memories, starting from receiving INTERFACE-OS, fighting IO-HMN-016 meeting ALICE and ending in the IEHAR station. It was a mostly perfect record, except for after I got into the escort vehicle. Just like ALICE said, there was a blank space there. How was this possible?
ALICE, are you sure you don't have any records of this?
Nope. INTERFACE-OS isn’t watertight enough to resist cognitohazards or forced amnestics. I'm very sorry about this, Boss. You'll have to seek out a specialist at IEHAR or a private hospital.
The last thing I checked was the mission log.
Mission
Ally Unit Teric is now available for pickup! Seek her out within the mission parameter to finish recruiting her!
Ally Unit Cosmos is now available for pickup! Seek him out within the mission parameter to finish recruiting him!
Ally Unit Heretic 774 is now available for pickup! Seek him out within the mission parameter to finish recruiting him!
Fuck! The mission's already started!
I slammed my fist against the wall, then took a deep breath and forced my heart to settle. The first objective was not to raise suspicion. I flushed the toilet, washed my hands and exited the restroom, stretching my arms like a huge burden had been relieved from my rectum...
"There she is!" An unknown voice shouted, "Don't let he reach the front hall!"
...only to stumble across a scene in the middle of a corridor. Two nurses in green and white coats, emblazoned with the same leaf-bottle logo, chased struggled with a woman in a patients' gown. She flailed her arms, elbowing one of them in the face and breaking free of their grip. She sprinted down the corridor, spluttering and babbling. I readied myself to dodge to the side. I didn’t need to. One of the medics grabbed her clothes and pulled her back.
“Sorry about this!” The nurse shouted, shoving against the wall. His partner sidestepped in front of me, blocking the view of the woman. A frantic, choked sound emerged from behind him--the sign of a gag.
“She’s a bit hysterical. Please, go on your way!”
They were too late. I had already seen it; the birch-white branches growing out of the woman’s eye and forehead, complete with little pink leaves, sprouting from her topmost skin and flesh as if it were soil. I smiled, nodded and walked straight for the exit. The security guard from earlier gave me a passing glance, then resumed surveying the area, I passed through the double doors and my vision turned white. Then, I stood back in the waiting room, the double doors sliding to a close around me.
“Now calling Number 197…”
"Changed your mind, boy?" The guard grunted. "You'll have to take another number. Rules are rules."
A cloying, earthly scent hung around the air. It complemented with a jolt of nausea running down my spine. A man in a mauve sweater and jeans walked up, scratching his head and rubbing a lump at the back of his neck. All the evidence coalesced together into one obvious, painful truth.
I was already within the Impurity’s Zone.