Conditions Cleared:
Bad Physical Condition
Surgical Recovery
Hunger
Sleep Deprivation
Stat gains:
Psionics:(Throwing psionic hissy fits have paid off.)
The system stabilizes, but the wounds remain. The hole was stitched together, but the pain remained present. Some things won’t be undone so easily. The amnesia lingers, and the precarious balance of her body keeps her on the edge.
She stared at the bland ceiling, stretching her leg muscles, pondering her next move.
*******
Callia sat inside the clinic, Kara had whipped her up some meat flavored instant noodles. It was pure carbohydrates. The texture was nice and smooth, but the taste had left something to be desired. Not enough sweetness, it was lacking salt, maybe some cheese. She knew she shouldn’t be ungrateful, she was hungry above all else, she was taken in by Kara’s Samaritanism. However, Kara had made it clear, that she ran a clinic and not a kitchen.
She ignored her momentary disappointment. Callia consumed the artificial wheat strings. She flipped through a history book, very little pre-system information was publicized inside of it. Callia theorized it might have been the System’s reluctance to allow any form of dissent. And judging what she heard from Kara, the human governance had long accepted the futility of resisting its absolute rule.
She’d inspect the book properly if her head didn’t hurt.
Callia stood up, patrolling the interior of the cybermechanic slash surgeon’s base. The clinic was cluttered, in an intriguing way.
Walking across the hallway, she inspected the storage room where she was told not to go into. The doctor was a hoarder, more than cybernetics fit in her shelves. There were some vaguely detached limbs, which seemed visibly organic, stuff in green jars of mystery liquid.
In the corner of the room, a twitching eye in a vat had traced her all over the storage. The last thing that had crept her out was detached cyberlungs, vibrating as if they were breathing.
“Ew.”
It was a practical thing, she wagered. Easy to sell and transfer, maybe unfortunate or leftover parts offered and taken from her patients. It was a miracle and a blessing that she was shot clean through her stomach. She was one aimed shot away from breathing with a pipe.
Skepticism was important Kara had folded fast, yes, she probably did something illegal for her. But long-term reliance may have been unhealthy for her. If a bounty was put out as she had suggested earlier, Kara would only need to inform the authorities.
Time to jog her attention.
She left the room, hopping into the lab. The nurse, an assistant known as Marcus, caught a glimpse of her and shrunk his shoulders, pretending not to see her as he typed away on a computer.
He gave her wary glances as she approached.
“Hey, Marcus…right?” she started, scratching the back of her head.
He nodded. “What do you want? Here to assault me again.”
“No,” she huffed. “I’m sorry, really, it was a reaction, I didn't mean to assault you.”
“Apology noted. Moving on with life.” He forced a smile, they exchanged gazes, and he started typing again.
“I’m really sorry, if there was any way, I could make it up to you.” She offered.
“It’s fine, really, had worse things happen to me, done to me before” he sighed. He kept typing.
How could she possibly diffuse the tension, she was going to be stuck here for a while, may as well get things sorted. Perhaps complimenting him might change his demeanor, not that she was good at that.
“You’re kind of handsome.”
“I’m married, with kids.” He started breathing heavily, slamming the desk. Stood up, and walked over to her. Marcus held his hand up at her, frowning, showing a scar on his wrist. “You see this! This was all you. You’re madness Stargirl.”
“Take a good long look.” Marcus came closer. “When my wife saw this she thought I was cheating with the doctor, because of you, made a whole fuss about it.”
Callia swallowed. “I’m really sorry, dude, it was a response I thought you were a threat, I couldn’t –.”
Heels stepped on the floor behind her. Kara. Arms to her hips.
“Callia I told you not to bother him!” she shouted. “Go do something, anything!”
There was no point in drawing it out. She did admire her courage to defend Marcus, even if it was ill-guided. Something about it felt familiar, camaraderie.
“You’re right,” she needed to clear her head.
Callia turned and walked out the door of the clinic.
She put the hoodie up, keeping her reddish hair obscured, It was better that way, made it easier to blend among the crowd. But it didn’t stop there, she needed to move a certain way, pedestrians had their way of walking. Movements and posture, add in the fact that she was in the middle of a slum town, and multiply that by the fact she struggled grasping basic system concepts and that there was a host of information foreign to her.
Her head turned towards the looming shadow, before she got into rhythm.
She stared at the towering dome as it turned and spun around, large goggly eyes briefly settling on her. The dome was humming from afar, its voice vibrated in the wind. Neon bled miles away from the inner city, known as Nova Ardour. Audible system pings and the occasional air siren going off made the place feel less of a deathtrap.
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Callia walked over to a vending machine, staring at the assortments of prepackaged food inside. She tapped on the display, grabbing the first thing she could get, a synthetic burger. Those noodles weren’t near enough. She dissected the synthetic thing before biting in. Cheap, addictive. All fake meat. Easy to consume. Tastes good enough.
She supposed it was the convenience of it that made it appealing. Price was cheap as well. Rumor was that native fauna of the planet was hostile to human nervous systems, the meat had to be hyper processed before it was edible. Which left plants. Who knew? Perhaps it was a lie, to numb down the masses of Earth-77
Class options were randomized again. Every hour it was something new. Something to stimulate her brain. It was slowly becoming less demeaning, she guessed it was the effects of her status. If so, could she chalk up the demeaning suggestion to her amnesia.
Drone Hooper. Circuit Jockey. Data Janitor. Gutter Psion. Junk Wizard. Neon courier.
Neon courier was the only one that stood out to her skill set. That acknowledged her, at least partly, as a potential war fighter. As if settling on that thought, made sure the system had suggested it thrice. Still, it wasn’t satisfactory
Neon CourierAvoid getting shot!optional.)”
She wandered onwards.
She hadn’t meant to end up here, but her feet had other plans, they took her-almost unconsciously– to the same place she had met the Flower girl, who was vaguely alien. She’d yet to see a full-blown xeno around, though apparently they did exist, probably in hiding.
She hoped she’d be able to see her there again, hopefully this time without her weird reaction. When she had scared the flower girl before wasn’t intentional. Callia guessed it already left a scar on her mind, like she did with Marcus hand. Her body reacted on its own, or perhaps it was the odd psychic energy that resided in her.
The patch of blue skin, beneath the flower girl's obscured body, was not normal. The fact that she ran meant that it was a common response to being outed. The system had mentioned that she was ostracized, perhaps Callia should approach much more reservedly in time.
She was sure, one thing would make quick amends. Money. She didn’t seem to be making much, the last time Callia had remembered. A couple of credits in comparison to her 400 didn’t seem like much.
Turning around the corner. The flower girl appeared to have noticed her immediately. Did the hoodie not help. She took in sharp breaths, and her shoulders had stiffened. Callia kept calm, moving slowly and deliberately, she didn’t want to scare her off again.
She stopped in front of her and the flower girl got a good look, her face full of fright. She started shivering.
“Hey, calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.” She assured her.
“W-wha…what do you want from me.?”
“Relax. Please.” Callia lowered her voice.
She stepped backwards, Callia did the same to match her anxious energy.
“Y-You saw my skin, didn’t you?” The girl asked, her voice unsteady.
“That doesn’t matter to me. I reacted unkindly and wanted to make amends.” she held out a handful of physical credit coins she had withdrawn earlier. “I made you drop your flowers, crushed them accidentally, my compensation for your loss.”
Callia took a sharp intake of breath, making her shoulder shrunk.
The flower girl hesitated–she was cautious but snatched the money out of her hand. Dropping a single coin, she bent over, stuffing it into a braided bag with sunflowers embedded on it. She struggled fitting it all in. Her face disoriented, as she looked away.
She turned to the flower jars, gathering them up.
“Stop, you don’t have to give me anything. It was an accident.” Callia said.
“But…” she exhales, muttering. “I can’t accept this. Not like this.”
Was it pride or fear that held her back, or perhaps she had principles, Callia couldn’t understand why she didn’t accept, she was struggling by the looks of it, wasn’t she?
Before Callia could respond, a man approached, his face irritated. Anger flashed over his mug, frowning at the flower girl. She backed away even further, her legs threatening to buckle, she started breathing with difficulty.
“Auri, where is the damn loan money you owe.” His arms tensed up, muscles bulging. He moved towards her aggressively. The pudgy excuse of a man, threatened to push her around. Callia didn’t like what she was seeing.
“Mr. Willow, I… I almost have it ready. Just a few more days.”
The man’s face turned red. “A few days! A few days? Every day you delay, the interest goes up! I want my goddamn credits, you half-xeno freak..” he demanded.
He put his hands around her collar, shaking her, and attempted to strangle her. Callia became infuriated. Whether ‘Auri’ owed him was a matter of business and law. This was picking on a much weaker woman. It was morally wrong.
Callia jumped forward, grabbed him by the neck. His eyes spun around with shock, pupil’s growing.
“What the hell, get off me stranger, ain’t none of your business.” He stated.
“Wait, please don’t fight, please, I… Almost have it ready.” Auri reached for Callia’s arms, Callia dragged the man away from her.
Callia tightened her gripped, staring down at his face, she towered over his short stature. Her hands came closer and tighter to the edge of his Adam apple, he started pleading, as she threatened to block off his throat…
“It’s my concern now, how much does she owe you?”
“One hun–one hundred credits.” he wormed out. She let go of her grip. He gasped as she lets go.
She pushed him away. “How do you send credits, in this place! Digital”
“Just ask the system to do it, you lunatic.”
Auri started tugging on Callia’s shoulders back and forth. “What are you doing? I never asked you to do this.”
“I’ll pay anyway.”
How did she do this? Does she phrase like a command? Does she interact with an interface?
“Uhh…
There was a moment of silence, and then, words flashed before her eyes.
[Goodrift: Hello Callia, causing trouble I see.]
“Can I send a hundred and one credits to Mister willow here.”
[Pending transaction: 101 Credits]
[Transaction complete: 101 Credits]
[Funds available: 264 Credits]
Auri stood with her mouth open. The man stared at her in disgust and fear, he stumbled crawling backwards attempting to stand up. “There ya go, now you owe me. Get out of here!”
Auri stood aghast. She looked at her differently—the fear was gone. Missing, but replaced by something else. Agitation, perhaps. She pouted, her face ready to lash out at Callia. Callia smiled, she wasn’t hammering anyone with the cuteness of her expressions.
She clenched her fists, making silly groans. “Why did you that?” she shouted?
“My good deed for the day.”
“I didn’t ask you to!”
“But I wanted to,” Callia replied, feigning hurt.
Auri settled. She sat on a little cardboard box. She crossed her arms like a child, looking everywhere but Callia’s face. “Nobody does anything for free around here. Do I owe you now?”
A sinister smile spread across Callia’s face. “I guess.”
Auri let out a sigh of relief. “I knew it. Are you looking for an indentured servant? Perhaps you’re off to sell me on the black market. I’ve been there before.”
Oh god, no.” Callia’s face turned into one of horror. “I was joking. Wait—does that actually happen? Slavery and such?”
“You really aren’t from here. You came with that ship, didn’t you?”
Callia nodded. She still wasn’t sure but decided to go with it. “What gave it away?”
“You feel strange. I can sense things.”
“Well then, I guess it worked out for you. I’ll be leaving now.”
She turned around, moving back in the direction of the clinic. It was time to decide on a class—no use delaying the inevitable. She needed to get herself on track. Her loose ends were tied, her stomach full, her wounds patched up.
“Wait.” Auri ran toward her, holding her arm. Callia felt something she didn’t realize she needed—warmth. Familiar, yet out of reach. She had to shake it off, the feeling of déjà vu gnawing at her. It was like the answer was just a page away, but the page refused to turn.
I thought you were really scary, but you’re actually nice. Do you… want to see my other flowers? The living ones?” the girl asked, hesitant but hopeful.
“Real flowers? Where?”
“It's near a scrapyard. My home is around the area.”
Callia stood still. An invitation for her. Was it sensible to accept what if she became attached to her.
She didn’t need to go back to the clinic right away, and she was realistically purposeless without a clear direction. The slums were unfamiliar—everything was strange. There was always the chance she could lose control of herself. Was it worth the risk?
“I… I can’t.”
“Oh. Okay.” Auri’s shoulders dropped, and she looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. Callia felt bad. She had things to do, but… would it hurt so much?
“On second thought.”
Auri’s eyes lifted. She started jumping enthusiastically. “Really?”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”
Auri flashed a smile, grabbing her arm while picking up the jars. One thing stood out to Callia—Auri was malnourished. Woefully so. Her arms were unusually thin for an adult woman. Did she even make enough to eat? It unsettled her. But perhaps that was just her twisted savior complex taking charge of her ego.