Act 5
Highway 61: Local transport to the city exit
The immense emptiness of the Abandoned Lands enveloped Masayoshi like a heavy cloak. 3 months had passed since his first act, and silence was the only response, no newspaper, no news report, no whispers in the streets. His act of rebellion had been swallowed by the system, erased as if it had never happened, the streets of Eden remained a stage of inequality, where arrogant humans walked over fragile and sad beings.
Inside a transport cutting through the city towards the last station, on the threshold of civilization, Masayoshi watched the urban landscape transform into arid, red earth, a floating package followed him faithfully, a small container. Disembarking at the lonely station, he picked up the package, his face was hidden by a high-tech mask, a pixelated visor protecting his identity, a symbol of his new double life.
"Ahh", the young man let out a sigh that was both relief and mental preparation.
"Time for a little run."
His muscles tensed, and then he took off, the floating package kept pace, a faithful technological squire. There were no roads here, only the raw vastness of the planet, a silent testament to the human expansion that had left behind those it couldn't assimilate.
Minutes later, the alien village appeared on the horizon, Masayoshi slowed down. He walked among the precarious dwellings and improvised shops, a silent hatred directed at anything that resembled a human, but, for some, the pixelated mask was not a threat, but a symbol of a rare kindness.
"Hey there, my masked bro!", called a Jupiter alien, his head circled by a giant ring that glowed softly.
"Come on over! Got some of that salty fish cake you like, the first one's on the house!"
A genuine smile, hidden by the mask, appeared on Masayoshi's face.
"Thanks, Jiak. But I already ate before coming, i have to be quick today."
Jiak waved, his ring tinkling slightly.
"Aw, that's a shame, on your way back, they'll still be waiting for you, you know?"
"Alright, haha!", Masayoshi replied, his voice a friendly action in the midst of the isolation.
Leaving the commercial center, the atmosphere changed. He bumped into a small gang of young troublemakers, aliens marginalized by society who now replicated its cruelty, olne of them, with blue skin and eyes that protruded like antennae, blocked his path.
"How's life, humanoid? We didn't see you last weekend", taunted the leader, his tone laden with challenge.
Masayoshi looked at him, and the frustration of months overflowed into sharp contempt.
"It's just that I was busy going around the city so I wouldn't have to run into you guys again and end up breaking your little robots."
The gang became enraged, its members growling and closing in around him.
"Hmph! Soon we'll get others, and then you'll be the first to try them out, and after that, the local merchants. What do you think?"
A dark look crossed Masayoshi's eyes behind the mask. But he restrained himself, with a deep sigh that seemed to calm the inner storm, he simply kept walking.
"Oh, masked one! We'll be waiting for you, okay?"
Far from the village, Masayoshi started running again, his form a blur against the red earth. His destination was a hill, studded with rusty metal containers, he opened one of the doors with a magnetic card.
He didn't see the eyes watching him from behind the rocks, the same troublemakers.
Inside the container, a different world revealed itself, it was a training room, filled with old and modified equipment: tennis ball throwing machines, reflex robots with articulated joints, a repair bench covered with tools and spare parts.
Masayoshi opened the box he had brought. Inside, among food items, was a disassembled combat trainer robot, an outdated combat simulation model, for the next few hours, he immersed himself in work, his hands moving with a precision he didn't even know he possessed.
"At least the mechanics courses in school were useful, they really prepare kids for a chaotic future... learning to assemble war robots."
Finally, the last piece clicked into place, he positioned the robot in the center of the room and activated it, with a buzz of antiquated motors, the machine rose, assuming a fighting stance. Masayoshi took off his jacket, revealing a body now bruised and sculpted by months of superhuman effort, and assumed his own stance.
The clash began, Masayoshi slid to the side, avoiding the robot's first strike, he grabbed the machine's leg, with controlled force he swept it off its feet and scored a point. The training intensified when the tennis ball machines activated, launching a rain of balls at random intervals, the combat robot, reprogrammed to learn, became unpredictable. It attacked, and Masayoshi dodged, but didn't notice the balls zipping toward him, he was almost hit, and in the distraction, the robot struck him with the back of its fist, a dry blow that echoed in the room, a point for the machine.
On his next attempt, Masayoshi closed his eyes, he took a deep breath, it wasn't just air he was pulling into his lungs, it was the very darkness around him, the quiet of the container. He channeled his cosmic perception power, with his eyes closed, the world transformed into a map of silhouettes, he felt the robot jump, predicted the leg sweep, his forearm blocked the impact, and he pushed the machine back.
The ball launchers fired, Masayoshi moved through the chaos, his body moving in impossible diagonals, dodging, parrying some projectiles in mid-air, it was a choreography of pure intuition and reflexes, when the machines paused to reload, he saw his opening, he charged at the robot at high speed, a straight punch.
But the machine had learned, it replicated his own defense, blocked and pushed him back with force. Masayoshi lost his balance, and a tennis ball came like a missile toward his head, in a snap of pure instinct, he jumped, his feet finding the ceiling for a fraction of a second, and used the momentum to dive onto the robot, the machine, however, anticipated the movement, grabbed him in mid-air, and in a brutal counterattack, threw him against the metal wall.
The frustration, accumulated over months, with a cry of rage, Masayoshi kicked one of the ball-launching machines, crushing its metal casing. He fell to his knees, panting, sweat streaming down his face.
"Is this even worth it? I'm just one! One among so many trained robots and soldiers, what am I doing? No matter how much I train, it doesn't change anything, i can't... I can't stop an entire nation..."
The weight of the world was too great for his shoulders, and at that moment, in the silence of his failure, the hero's flame seemed about to be extinguished.
The sun began to set over that abandoned place. 3 long months of sweat, blood, and infinite frustration, he looked at the charred and crushed remains of the last training robots, then put on his mask and left, stepping firmly on the red earth of that immense desert.
He was strong, fast, resilient, but it wasn't enough, against the human army's state of the art combat robots, against soldiers trained from the cradle, he was just... a strong kid, he didn't hear Darkseid anymore, but he knew he was watching him with a cynical and malevolent gaze.
The sadness was a weight greater than any robot, he was about to give up. Maybe Darkseid was right, maybe he was just a vessel, not a god.
It was then that his phone vibrated, a picture of Ryan, smiling happily with that punkrock way of being, lit up the screen. Masayoshi hesitated, he had barely spoken to his friend since switching to the night shift, an excuse to have more time for his training.
With a sigh, he answered.
Ryan:
"Hey, man! Where are you, dude? You disappeared all of a sudden... You even switched shifts, are you avoiding me?"
Ryan's lively, playful voice was like a breath of fresh air in the frustration-charged environment, Masayoshi couldn't help a small, tired smile.
Masayoshi:
"Ryan... Hey, man, no, I'm not avoiding you, I swear, it's just... things are a bit complicated. The night shift pays a little more, and... well, you know how it is."
Ryan:
"Do I? Tell me, everyone in the kitchen is asking about you."
Masayoshi gave a weak laugh.
"Yeah? Well... it was to be expected."
Ryan:
"Yeah... But seriously, man, are you okay? You're different, you disappeared, got quieter... even bigger, from what I remember. Hitting the gym like a madman to make up for my absence on the shift, huh?"
Masayoshi looked at his own arm, visibly more muscular.
"Something like that."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, the lightness in Ryan's voice gave way to genuine concern.
Ryan:
"Look, Masa... I don't know what this 'complicated thing' is that you're facing. And it's okay, you don't have to tell me, just... don't disappear, man, the world out there is already too gray and heavy, we need to hold on here, in our little corner. Remember that questionable restaurant we used to go to? We'd laugh at the cook who tried to disguise the meat's flavor with a ton of chili because he always messed up the amount."
The memory brought genuine warmth to Masayoshi's chest.
"He thought we didn't notice, hahaha."
Ryan:
"Yeah! And we did! Because together we knew something was wrong, that's it, Masa, no matter how bad everything is, no matter if the problem is huge, we weren't made to handle everything alone. Sometimes, you just need a friend to remind you that there's a lot of chili in the... meat? Get it... I think you understood?"
Masayoshi, a bit confused, agrees with him.
"Hmm, I think I got it."
Ryan continues.
"Look, there's fun in the midst of tragedy, it's worth keeping trying, even if it's just to prove to the world that we still laugh at it."
Masayoshi fell silent, Ryan's words, simple and unpretentious, echoed deeply within him, he wasn't fighting to prove something to the world. He was fighting because he believed a better world was possible, and a better world needed... connection, laughter in the midst of darkness. Ryan, unknowingly, without the slightest idea of the cosmic powers, had touched the core of the issue.
The flame he thought had gone out, reignited.
Ryan:
"And another thing... if the 'complicated thing' is big, there's no use trying to embrace the whole world at once. My grandma always said: 'A bowl of chicken soup isn't made in a single time, you have to take it slow, one seasoning at a time.' Maybe you're trying to put all the seasoning in the universe into the broth at once, and then it becomes unpalatable, partner. Take it easy, one day at a time, one problem at a time."
One dish at a time, not the universe.... Just the next meal... The next step.
Masayoshi:
"Ryan...", his voice came out firmer, a bit more laden with the jovial tone he used to have. "Your grandma is very wise."
Ryan:
"Huh, and you only realized that now? And look, the night shift is crap."
Masayoshi:
"Man... thanks. For real."
Ryan:
"No need to thank me, you just need to show up! And stop making faces at that giant problem of yours, remember the meat cook? He never gave up trying to get the chili right, and we never gave up tasting it. Persistence, my friend, now I gotta go, I'm just getting home now, see you later, don't disappear!"
The call ended, Masayoshi stood still, looking at the horizon where the city lights were beginning to turn on, the frustration was still there, but now it was accompanied by a portion of... hope? Not the grand hope of a savior, but the simple hope of a friend who cared.
It was a start, it was enough, for the first time in weeks, Masayoshi felt that maybe, just maybe, he could really make a difference. In his own way, one seasoning at a time.