Following the signs led us down a hallway into a mess area. Plastic tables and chairs cluttered the open room. There was an open kitchen behind a counter and not much else of note. Cracks had spread along the concrete walls and most of the strip lights along the ceiling had died out, but enough remained for me to see clearly. Robeep seemed wholly disinterested and complained regularly about our dropping kill frequency.

  Ruza and I made our way towards the kitchen. Black dried out slop filled buffet style buckets at the front of it. The middle was filled with a dirty cooking island large enough for a catering service. A plethora of cabinets and rusty shelves lined the walls, with a few fridges in the back. But above all, there was a nigh untouched coffee machine. It was a fancy one too, with built in bean grinders. My feet moved on their own towards it while Ruza approached the fridges.

  “Really wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said.

  “Why not?” she asked while recklessly pulling on a handle.

  A cloud of particles puffed out of it, covering her entirely. A stench both acrid and sweet emanated in a wave from the ancient fridge. She slammed it shut and struggled with a stubborn cough.

  “That’s why.”

  Ruza neglected to answer, too busy trying to keep her lungs on the inside. Somehow the beans within the machine had kept for all this time. Approaching it caused text to scroll past a tiny screen. “Spinal fluid, please,” it said. Plucking one out and smelling it confirmed their viability. Even the scent alone would’ve been worth it and I had to resist the urge to simply eat it. Twirling a knob on a cooking island faucet even worked out. By some miracle of engineering, we had running water here. It was clean too.

  Rummaging around in the cabinets found us a pile of MRE’s and a bunch of ceramic cups. Ruza had finally recovered and I tossed her the first meal in days while stuffing the rest in my backpack. On the way, I passed a microwave and oven combo, both screens flickered and politely requested my spinal fluid. Whatever. Our debuffs vanished as we gorged ourselves. Then it was time.

  Anticipation gripped my heart as I pressed the power button. It turned on. “YES! VICTORY!” I yelled.

  Robeep rushed into the kitchen room, “Susawa! I cannot believe you have taken lives without me. Have you no loyalty?!”

  “What are you so happy about?” Ruza asked.

  “No, no. Not death. This is life in its purest form. It’s ambrosia, the elixir of the gods.”

  Robeep lost interest again while Ruza joined me at the machine as it whirred to life. I refilled the reservoir and selected a lungo cup of black. There was a cappuccino option but the milk had definitely long since spoiled. Glorious life giving liquid filled the mug. Even Robeep’s interest awakened as he saw the oily color.

  Ruza sniffed the rising steam from a surprising ten feet away. “That’s a very strong scent. I can’t imagine this to be pleasant.”

  “Trust me. It’s the best thing you’ll find in this forsaken wasteland.”

  “Susawa, I must remind you that we meatbags are incapable of consuming oil,” Robeep said.

  “For once, I agree with him,” Ruza said.

  Finally, the masterpiece was complete. I started the machine on a second cup for Ruza and took in the poetic aroma. It reminded me of an Arabic blend, a high quality one too. Even the scent alone provided invigoration. The taste elevated me, strength coursed through my veins, I had found the pinnacle. A favorite comfort from home, graced upon me as if a gift from the heavens. Sweet bliss.

  My euphoria encouraged Ruza and she took a whole mouthful. A spray of black erupted from her mouth as the mug she dropped shattered on the ground. “This is disgusting. What’s wrong with you?!” she accused.

  It didn’t bother me. Nothing could. “We’re taking the machine with us,” I said.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “And how do you plan to do that? It’s far too big to carry along.”

  “We’ll find a way.”

  Robeep picked up a shard of mug and dripped a drop into his oil intake, and then vented a small stream away. “I agree with Ruza. This is foul.”

  “Neither of you have any taste.”

  “It appears Susawa has gone mad. Should we cure him with a beating?”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” Ruza said.

  “Understood. Initiating beating.”

  “Whoa, whoa, hold on. I’m not insane. It’s an acquired taste, sorry for not warning you, got lost in the moment there.”

  Robeep lowered his pair of Brainseekers, gripped in one mechanical hand. “Very well.”

  Unfortunately, Ruza had been right. There was no way we could bring the restaurant quality machine with us. Nevertheless, we found a few other creature comforts in the facility. There were living quarters and they included private and functional showers. For the first time since arriving, I got cleaned up. We even managed to do some laundry with them. One cup of coffee after another disappeared into my gut while we rested up and dutifully ignored how every working screen we passed seemed intent on our cerebral fluids.

  Afterwards, we explored the place for a while. Not all lights were functional but it seemed safe enough so Ruza went through the darker rooms. Most areas were locked off by heavy security doors however, accented by blinking red lights. In the end, only one path presented itself, a stairway up. Ruza kept giving me annoyed glances while wrinkling her nose as I took tiny elegant sips to savor my bitter nectar while we ascended the steps. Along the way, we passed a wall-sized window.

  “What do you make of this?” Ruza said.

  “A mess? Don’t know, don’t care.”

  “It appears to be a factory of some kind,” Robeep said.

  “Oh really? Who’d have thought.”

  The room on the other side was filled to the brim with various Spinedrinker parts. There were legs, clamps, needles, tubes, straps and other loose components, piled up haphazardly almost to the ceiling. Several rail-mounted robot arms stuttered in vain, trying to move. They were completely stuck in the overflow. We continued up the steps.

  Eventually they led to a security checkpoint of some kind. At least it looked that way since the intent had clearly been to maintain some kind of airlock, but both doors were open. Nothing appeared functional so we moved on through without a care in the world. The next hallway had no lighting whatsoever and I reluctantly gulped down my coffee before taking Ruza’s hand once again. Light appeared at the end of the tunnel after we turned a corner and reached a control or observation room.

  There were three big screens in a triple monitor arrangement. It was a double deck affair, with an upper bridge and a lower area where the walls were lined with computers and consoles of all kinds. Even the leather chairs were pristine, until I touched one and it crumpled away into dust. The fallout caused another coughing fit for Ruza although the rotten dust didn’t bother me at all. Robeep remained in the entrance while we searched for anything worth scavenging.

  Nothing appealed but there was a closed metal sliding door with an emergency exit sign along with an arrow facing upwards above it. “According to the sign here, this should mean up and out. We’ve found our exit.”

  “How is it that you can read the signs here when before you were clueless about everything?” Ruza asked.

  “It’s a long story, I’ve seen them before. I’d rather not talk about it. Besides, they’re kind of obvious. Anyway, do you want to leave this place or what?”

  “True, but you still seem oddly confident about it. Fine.”

  “It is the Murder King’s secret wisdom. You would not understand, Ruza,” Robeep said.

  “What he said.”

  “Next time, I’m leaving you both to die.”

  Ruza and I tried to pry the door open but we only managed a few centimeters before our strength gave out. All our progress was undone as it slid shut again. She called for Robeep, “Give us a hand, all three of us might be enough.”

  He took a few steps into the room and a heavy chunk of metal slammed into place behind him. A click echoed from the emergency exit and we failed to even budge it afterwards.

  “It appears we are trapped,” Robeep said.

  Ruza’s temper was clearly frayed. “Are murder and stating the obvious the only two things you can think of?”

  “Yes. You are quite observant for an inferior meatbag,” Robeep replied, “I am proud of you, Ruza.”

  “Just her?”

  “While your performance was adequate above ground, you have once again neglected to maintain a proper slaughter per day ratio. I am disappointed, Susawa. As the Murder King, you must maintain your quota’s.”

  “Oh? I can think of one kill to make…”

  His torso twisted this way and that. “Where?! I demand to know the location of our enemies.”

  I sighed. Green text appeared intermittently and in synch across the three screens every minute or so, before fading out. As usual, they prompted us for our brain liquids. We diligently searched the room, checking every dark nook and dusty cranny but came up empty. Our rising hopes were dashed once again. Back to a slow death of wasting away. I wonder how long we can make the rations last. The text appeared again and I lashed out.

  “CAN YOU FUCKING STOP WITH THE REQUESTS ALREADY?!”

  Ruza covered her ears as a loud screech pierced the room. It was followed by distorted pulses and then a few long, high pitch beeps, as if someone was testing a loudspeaker. The middle screen flickered, changing to pixelated ASCII art that resembled Albert Einstein. A monotone voice sounded out of the speakers, embedded in every upper corner of the square room.

  “No,” it said.