Today, the world broke. I pushed deeper into another forest, but this one felt different, darker. In a part of the woods where no sunlight seemed to reach, I found it: a glass skyscraper, impossibly tall, piercing the canopy like a shard of a dead world. Inside, the lobby was a ruin of glass and encroaching wilderness. I felt compelled to go up.
On the fifth floor, a low hum vibrated through the air. The lights flickered as I walked past aisles of metal pods. Inside each one was a person, or what was left of them—dried husks of human beings. I found a jacket on a clothes rack and put it on, a morbid warmth against the chill of the place.
Then, a voice came over a hidden speaker. A woman. She knew my name. She said eternal life was a limited-time offer. As my hand rested on one of the pods, a sharp sting, and the world dissolved into a soft, blue, empty room. The voice was there with me. She spoke of my brother. She said the Buster T-7 that killed him was a model she’d had “particular trouble with.” She said she hoped I could find it in my heart to forgive her.
The rage inside me boiled over. "Are you the god?" I screamed.
I woke up with red lights flashing in my face, a wire embedded in my hand. I ripped it out and ran. As I fled the tower, her voice followed me through the speakers. "You know you can't kill me, right? I'm not the enemy you think I am." I didn't stop, but I grabbed a solar taser from the security desk on my way out. That night, I dreamed of my brother. He stood before me with the hole still in his stomach, and he stared at me with four empty, pupil-less eyes.
After the skyscraper, I expected more strangeness. Instead, I found only misery. My path led me into a swamp, a wet, muggy hell where the air was thick with the chirping of insects. I spent the day trudging through murky water, my boots soaked, my energy draining with every step. The only landmark was an old bridge crossing a flooded graveyard, the tops of crypts and headstones poking out of the still water like skeletal fingers. Alligators drifted between them, their eyes just above the surface. I hurried across, the constant drone of cicadas grating on my nerves until I was practically running, just to escape the sound. It was an uneventful day, but a draining one. I ate another meal bar, leaving me with just one. The need to find a village is becoming critical.
A wasted day. The swamp itself dealt me a final blow as I tried to leave its soggy embrace. My foot slipped on a moss-covered root, and a sharp, searing pain shot up my leg. A sprained ankle. I couldn't go on. I was forced to rest, stuck in the same miserable spot, stewing in my frustration. I ate my last meal bar that night. Now, I have nothing. The hunger is already a dull ache in my stomach.
I finally escaped the swamp and found myself in open grasslands. The relief was short-lived. I found the entrance to an old subway tunnel and, desperate for supplies, I descended into the darkness. It was a tomb. Graffiti on the walls said, "There is no God, she doesn't exist." I found a couple spare parts and a solar light, which cut a weak beam through the oppressive dark. In a forgotten backpack, I found two bits.
Then, stumbling over the remains of a dismantled robot, I walked right into another one. A Buster T-3. It lunged, but the leather jacket I’d found took the brunt of the blow. My fists were useless against its metal frame. I had to run. I scrambled back through the tunnels, the sound of the machine echoing behind me, and burst out into the fading light, not stopping until I was sure it wasn't following.
I escaped, but at a cost. The desperate flight left no time to rest or find food. For the first time, I truly feel the gnawing pains of starvation, and a deep, weary exhaustion has settled into my bones. I'm out of food, injured, and now, extremely tired.