Chapter 7: Instinct and Intellect
The morning air was damp and heavy, humming faintly with residual energy. Richmond tightened the straps on his backpack and stared down the empty road ahead. The cat — now walking comfortably beside him like it had decided to stay — stretched lazily, both tails flicking in rhythm.
"Alright," he muttered, adjusting the wrench in his hand. "Dome or not, monsters or not, there's no way I'm the only human left. Somebody's out there. There has to be."
His voice carried through the quiet streets, swallowed quickly by the overgrown ruins. The events near the dome had left his heart pounding, but they also hardened something inside him. Giving up wasn't an option.
He walked for nearly half an hour, weaving through cracked streets and moss-coated buildings. Occasionally, he'd stop to check abandoned vehicles or peek into shops. Most cars were either dead, half-consumed by vines, or simply locked. He wasn't exactly keen on smashing windows just yet.
Fuel. Vehicle. Supplies.
Those were his priorities now.
A gas station came into view around the corner, its once-bright sign now half swallowed by ivy. The pumps were intact, though covered in grime. Richmond approached carefully, scanning for movement. The silence here was different — thicker, like the air itself was holding its breath.
He tried one of the pumps. Dead.
He sighed. "Figures. No power, no flow."
But he didn't give up. He circled behind the station and pried open the maintenance panel. His fingers worked instinctively, years of tinkering in mechanical labs coming back. A few wire adjustments, a manual override crank he found half-rusted, and—
*Click.*
A faint gurgle echoed through the pipes. Not full flow, but enough for gravity-fed trickles.
Richy grinned. "Old manual lines. Knew this course would pay off one day."
He filled two empty jerrycans he'd picked up earlier, his movements quick but precise. The cat sat on the hood of a nearby car, yawning as if supervising a very boring task.
"Yeah yeah, I'm not entertaining, I get it," he muttered.
With fuel secured, he turned his attention to the vehicles. Most were useless, but a dusty pickup truck with half its windows broken caught his eye. The tires were intact, engine bay untouched, and keys still dangling from the ignition.
"…Either I'm lucky, or the world's really making this easy for me," he said, sliding into the seat.
He twisted the key. The engine coughed, stuttered… and roared to life.
Richmond let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, thank you, whoever abandoned this beauty."
He parked the truck near the gas station entrance, ready to siphon and refill the tank later. For now, he still needed supplies — food, medicine, tools. The nearby supermarket was his next target.
---
## Elsewhere — Beneath the Cracks
It began with a pulse.
Deep beneath a fractured section of the street near the supermarket, where moss and glowing roots intertwined, a **droplet of translucent matter** quivered. Energy from the environment bled into it like ink spreading through water.
*Plop.*
The droplet swelled, absorbed, then split into thin membranes — then recombined. Slowly, a small, quivering **slime** was born. No mother. No egg. Just energy and biomass coalescing under the unseen influence of Geon radiation.
It had no thoughts. Only *instinct*.
Absorb. Grow. Survive.
It slithered forward, guided by something it couldn't name. The ground beneath it pulsed faintly, and it latched onto a cluster of glowing moss, absorbing it greedily. The energy surged through its tiny body, expanding it from the size of a fist to that of a melon.
Nearby, another droplet was forming. Then another. Soon, dozens of newborn slimes quivered in the cracks, each mindlessly devouring whatever energy-rich matter they touched. Moss. Insects. The remains of mutated plants.
Some slimes merged, forming larger, shapeless blobs. Others competed, pulling at the same energy sources until one overwhelmed the other. There were no rules. Only the quiet law of consumption.
Among them, *one slime was different*.
As it absorbed the surrounding energy, its core — a faint, pulsating nucleus — began to glow with sharper clarity. It pulsed slower, steadier, unlike the erratic flicker of the others. It observed, in its own strange way.
When a nearby slime bumped into it, the newborn reacted not with blind consumption but *analysis*. It extended a thin pseudopod, brushing the other's surface. Energy reading. Weak. Non-hostile. It ignored it and slid away.
But when another slime tried to latch onto its core, it struck.
A sudden whip of its membrane engulfed the attacker, dissolving it in seconds. The victor absorbed its essence, growing larger, its nucleus glowing brighter.
Something like *awareness* was beginning to form.
---
## Richmond's POV
The supermarket loomed ahead, its automatic doors frozen half-open by vines. Richmond parked the pickup truck a few meters away and listened.
Silence.
He entered cautiously, flashlight in hand. The interior was a strange mix of decay and accelerated growth. Shelves were warped by roots. Some aisles had turned into miniature forests. But scattered between the foliage were still cans, packets, and supplies.
"Jackpot," he whispered.
He moved through the aisles systematically, filling his backpack with anything still edible. Bottled water, canned food, a few lighters, batteries, a roll of duct tape, basic meds. His practical side kicked in, compartmentalizing items like he'd done on field trips.
The cat trailed behind him, sniffing occasionally, ears perked. Occasionally, it stopped and stared toward the floor, tails flicking uneasily. Richmond noticed but didn't think much of it — not yet.
---
## The Slime's POV
By now, the special slime had grown to the size of a small dog. Its nucleus burned steadily, and its membrane shimmered faintly with absorbed Geon energy. Around it, lesser slimes crawled and merged mindlessly.
Then it *sensed* something. Not through sight, but through vibration.
*Rhythm. Steps. Two heartbeats.*
One was slow and heavy — human. The other was light, sharp — beast.
It froze, retracting into a puddle-like shape, observing from the shadows under the cracked tiles. Its developing mind ran a primitive calculation:
- Prey?
- Threat?
- Neutral?
The energy readings told it something strange. The human radiated faint residual Geon energy — not hostile, not entirely prey. The beast beside him radiated a higher concentration, stabilized, pulsing rhythmically.
*Not prey.*
*Not threat.*
*Potential.*
It remained still, silently watching as Richmond moved through the supermarket aisles above.
Nearby, lesser slimes crawled without purpose. The stronger slime moved swiftly, devouring them before they could make noise, merging their energy into itself. With each absorption, its membrane thickened, its core brightened, and its awareness sharpened.
For the first time, it distinguished *choice*.
And it chose to **wait**.
---
## Richmond's POV — Exit
By the time Richmond finished looting, the sun had shifted slightly, casting slanted light through the broken windows. He stuffed the last pack of batteries into his bag and exhaled.
"Alright. Food, fuel, truck. Next… other people," he muttered. "Stadium's still my best bet."
He carried the supplies out, the cat padding along beside him. It glanced back once toward the cracked floor, fur standing slightly before relaxing again. Whatever it sensed down there, it didn't see as immediate danger.
Richmond didn't notice the faint shimmer deep beneath the supermarket floor, where the intelligent slime lingered — observing.
For now.