LEVEL UP! I'm now 31!
-:Status:-
Name: Don
Level: 31 (Jan, 22nd)
Class: Sleepless Author
Ideas: Sleep is for the weak... jk, for the non-parents.
Flaws: Release Schedule? NO!
Bonds: Wife, Daughter, ??? (WIP)
Skills:-
- Writing (buffed with ASMR)
- Worldbuilding (buffed with Obsidian notes)
- Driving
- Sleep Resistance
- Avoiding Responsibilities
Debuffs:
- Back hurts
- Joints hurt
- Lungs hurt (Extra dust inhalation)
- Eyes hurt
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While there was a lot to worry about that day, from the Trade with the Alfari, to the Survivor Base management, to the "Winter is Coming" situation, Adam decided—out of self-love—to rest his head in the early hours of the morning, trusting the others with the important work, and enjoying some of the peace and quiet his position as Commander of both bases brought him.
As he woke up in the afternoon, his head became clearer regarding many of the things that happened yesterday, and he slowly started his usual base management duties. One of the habits he picked up lately was to write all his daily tasks in a notebook and start crossing them as he went through his day, to give himself a clear and driven state of mind.
His first task was to meet up with Hammerhead, who had been supervising the construction process and had finished most of the basic building and fortifications of the base downhill. From above, it looked like a compact living compound in the middle of the devastated residential area of Springhead, with many trenches and bunkers surrounding it, but still planned with care for expansion upward, outward, and downward if needed.
With most of the construction planning done, Adam set a bureaucratic process for survivors to apply for extra building and living quarters, with the Titanites serving as advisors for urban planning, promoting the cubicle living quarters that were designed as a fortified slum, surrounding the five basic buildings.
The Survivor Base had a T-shaped plan with two buildings facing the other two across a wide street and a large building perched at the end of the street. While snow was falling heavily, the area was provided with enough heating, cover, and workspaces to keep the snow from gathering.
The survivors also created a food plaza between the buildings where a large kitchen was set up under a shed, and Senator Ned Carter was supervising it as the head chef.
This put a smile on Adam's face, since the position of Chef was his idea for becoming the most valuable person in his small community, and now the Senator was pulling the same trick he had once done.
His arrival surely drew too many eyes, and the Senator immediately left his position managing the kitchen and walked towards Adam with big strides and a clear smile.
"I suppose the spices were an improvement," Adam said, easily reading the Senator's mood.
"Huge improvement! Very good stuff! Those aliens are the best thing that crossed our borders in the last hundred years." The Senator said with a big laugh while offering Adam a bowl of spiced, diluted grub bars.
Adam shook his head, as the Senator's statement would have ruffled some feathers in another time, but he didn't give it more than an uncomfortable glance before turning his eyes to the spicy bowl.
"Anything to prepare me for what I'm about to taste?" Adam asked.
"This one stings like cinnamon but has a sweet taste." The Senator said.
"My favorite already." Adam said and took a big spoon before narrowing his eyes from the stinging flavor that caused his skin to crawl, "Good stuff!"
"If we can get some bread and add it to this…" The Senator said and then paused, a longing expression on his face.
"Dammit, I miss bread." Adam let out a sigh and then pointed as he ate another mouthful. "We'll have to work on our farming operation soon."
"You have a plan?" The Senator looked at Adam with a bit of a frown, "We can't farm in these parts, you know that?"
"Not if we have Greenhouses or maybe Fields of Providence." Adam shrugged as he kept eating the gruel, "Won't be easy though. We'll have to source grain seeds first; other crops can be supported, but we'll have to incorporate them into the Wartopian's technology, but meat will be the real problem."
"You have all that planned, huh?" The Senator narrowed his eyes at Adam before nodding, "When can we start?"
"Not this winter." Adam shook his head.
"And the meat problem?"
"You know cultured meat?"
"Like… lab-grown?"
"In vats, yes." Adam nodded with a regretful expression, "The stuff that goes brown once it hits the pan. We'll also have to source real animals before we can achieve that."
The Senator made a complicated face before letting a long sigh.
"I understand that all livestock has been driven to extinction…" The Senator said, contemplating the apocalypse, but still acknowledging what Adam was trying to do, "Well, I doubt we'll eat rip-eyes ever again, so whatever you make, we'll be thankful."
Adam nodded and scanned the camp with his eyes. The arrival of the Alfari spices may have indeed changed the spirit of the camp, painting smiles where scowls once were, and the mood was elevated greatly.
"What about your short-term plans?" The Senator asked Adam, "Anything we'd need to cooperate on… aside from the workers' plan?"
"You have found tailors?" Adam asked, handing the bowl back to one of the survivors who was gathering the utensils back to the kitchen.
"Seven, I've sent for them the moment I saw you come in." The Senator said, and just as he said so, a small group of people started approaching them, standing a few steps away from the two community leaders while they conversed.
"Good." Adam looked at the seven, a group of five women and two men between the ages of 40 and 50. However, they didn't speak for themselves and stood behind the Senator. Adam ignored that and turned to the man, "I'm going to send Officer Reeves to be the Lawman around this part, and the Commander has sent word that a few more Wartopia troops will be sent over. Some of whom are law enforcement, so it will take your mind off patrolling alone."
The smile on the Senator's face went stale for a second before he returned it to its freshness with a light chuckle.
"You're taking good care of us, Justiciar. I'm afraid we're spreading your forces too thin at this rate." The Senator said.
"Nonsense!" Adam waved with a hand, "The Commander wants to make sure you are all safe and well-fed. We can't reboot civilization without a happy and safe population."
Adam made sure his last sentence was heard loud and clear by the people around, sending a message that the Commander cared for them, rather than merely because some politician was doing his best to win them some rights from the tightfisted commander.
"Well, this is all nice to hear." Senator Ned Carter scratched his chin and seemed to have taken the "L" on this one before changing topic and introducing the seven individuals behind him, all of whom were the tailors for Adam's new Textile Mill.
But unlike the previous conversation, Senator Carter had a strange air about him as he finished his introduction and waited for Adam to finish explaining the Textile Mill's working program, which would print preset textiles and require tailoring for fitting and finishing touches.
"Alright, Justiciar. I know you are a man who likes to help others, and my friends here are willing to follow your example and do some good work for the community…" The Senator started speaking like the politician he was.
"But?" Adam asked.
"Don't get me wrong, Justiciar, these people are good people, good workers, they will work their best, God willing." The Senator made a scene, making sure he was also heard well. "However, good work must be met with good fruits."
It was obvious now as the Senator was trying to get his people a reward for their work, playing the same card as before. However, Adam had no reward prepared in mind for the workers, so he went with the first thing that came to mind.
"First workers will get the first advantages of citizenship in this camp." Adam said and looked around before inspiration struck, "Housing: as first official specialist workers in the base, they get their own housing before others."
"That surely sounds great." The Senator nodded in satisfaction, but he pushed Adam even further, "But that's only housing, sir. I am talking about constant payment for constant work. I'm sure real estate is good payment, but that's not a constant form of… payment."
Adam looked at the Senator and smirked, shaking his head.
"I don't think food bars would be a better form of payment either." He said and stepped closer, "Surely, you're not talking about weapons."
"Course not! We have lots of those lying around." The Senator looked satisfied as he shrugged, "But I'm sure your Commander isn't going to exploit our workers without… proper pay."
Adam let out a chuckle, seeing as how the Senator was cornering him for something as petty as payment in a situation like this.
"Isn't helping fellow humans survive the cold winter with warm clothes, shoes, and bedding something that transcends mere materialism?" Adam asked.
"I agree, of course," the Senator nodded, his expression unreadable, as if Adam had stated the obvious. "But that won't be the case for long, will it? You yourself said you're kick-starting civilization anew. The question is, will it be some form of communism or an authoritarian regime where people are forced to work themselves to death? Because if so, there'll be no difference between dying from the cold winter in a few days and overworking ourselves for some 'Comrade Commander' or whatever it will be."
"Oh!" Adam smiled vividly before shaking his head, "If that's the case, then you don't have to worry. I'll have to speak with the Commander and come up with a contribution currency together."
"I'd rather have some sort of economy charter, Justiciar." The Senator insisted.
"Big word, but I'll figure it out." Adam said before turning to the seven behind the Senator, "For now, the promise of early personal residence still stands. I'll find a way to make all your efforts rewarded, and if I go back on my word, I will not hold you to your word. Are we good?"
As Adam addressed them, the people looked at each other and the Senator before nodding one after the other.
"Alright." Adam looked between them, his head going back and forth, considering a manageable system for this mess Senator Carter threw at him.
If only they knew that the so-called Commander was actually him, a man struggling out of his mind to keep things in order while they kept fighting some ghost of communism in their heads. Still, it was clear that Senator Carter was trying too hard to force himself between the military and the civilians.
Adam wasn't a politician, and he wasn't as crafty as Senator Carter, but he should find a way to limit the old man's influence. The easiest was religion, but he didn't want to stoop as low as using the souls of others for politics; however, if he didn't do so, others would take advantage of such a spiritual vacuum.
Adam returned to his Command Center and started lining up the miniatures he had and finishing up those made by the mysterious hobbyist who made most of them for him.
In front of him, he had twenty-two miniatures ready for summoning. While most were common Men-at-Arms, three of them were the ones Adam was looking forward to; he took them all to the Boot Camp for mass summoning.
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The tree loomed over the endless expanses; the Six Figures hanging from it gave a solemn stare at the sapling that sprawled over the gray space.
From them, it was an extension; from them, it was an offspring; from them, it was grown.
Life meant something new every day, but the Six knew that its reach had been pruned, no matter how much they tried to connect to the smaller, much more youthful tree.
The world beyond was treacherous, and the forces from beyond the world had the tree entrapped, circling it like birds of prey in the gloomy sky, waiting for another part of the tree to stand out so much.
But the Reapers never came to the roots of the greater tree, and the Six Figures hanging from the tree let their consciousness seep down to the base, where it was all safe, sensing the strong trunk and the life flowing through, ever more vigorous than ever.
But despite all, the tree wasn't able to spread thanks to the Reapers. Its branches were being cut, except for the greatest ones, and the Reapers liked those, even perching their nests all over them.
The Figures contemplated the roots after the trunk and the branches, and it was where the Reapers wouldn't even think of reaching, but there was little to do with the roots.
Their purpose was to collect nutrients for the tree, and they were vigorous and strong, never failing to collect the nutrients from the soil, almost too much, though.
The tree was trying to bloom its roses and spread its Seedlings.
But the Figures also realized that there were limits: if the tree grew further, it would break and die. The Reapers were protecting it from that, but to see such seedlings hit the ground long before they matured was a heart-wrenching thing.
But there was a spot in the tree different from the rest, the closest to the sapling that grew, and over there, the seeds found a way to migrate.
Something called for them; their souls listened from the abyss of the dead. Those who were forgotten by the Six and the Reapers found a new root, joining the new cycle of reincarnation that defied the realm of the dead beneath the tree.
The Figures never paid much attention, realizing that much like other saplings that would grow from time to time, this would be caught by the Reapers sooner or later. For long eons, such saplings would eventually die and turn into food for the eternal tree.
But for once, there was more than simply life in the tree: something defiant, newly born, deep, and somehow, not of a single mind or thought.
The Six turned to it with strange attention; knowledge of such a thing was unheard of throughout time. In fact, Time herself was standing among the Six, unable to figure out the complicated growth patterns of such a sapling.
So they looked even deeper, on a personal level, and they saw the Souls as an individual concept whose form they had long abandoned.
There, they saw them standing, an endless expanse within the endless expanse, and they all stood, figures of tiny value for each, but once the Greater Six Figures emerged, all the lesser Figures opened their eyes, watched them with a single mind, and one of them stepped ahead.
She was rough, unspecified, but unlike the dead others, her life was finding a new source.
Time stepped ahead and reached out a hand, but the Lesser Figure freed herself from doom all by herself, emerging from the shade of death into life, light, and a dimension of space unfathomable to the Greater Six.
Her echo was left behind as she walked to a world similar to her world of origin, and death no longer confined her existence to its prison. Death was there too, and He confirmed it to the other Six.
The conceptually dead walking back to life meant a greater change. The hints of light and power left behind remained mysterious to Life, who stood clueless among the Six.
But the Figure of Reality explained other types of waves that accompanied the light, identifying the sound and chanting:
> DOMINUS SOLIS ITERUM VOCAT!
> EX TENEBRIS BELLUM SURGIT ET ROGAT!
> PER SANGUINEM SACRUM ITER RENOVAT!
> AD ATEN CONCURRIMUS, FIDE FIRMAT!
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