"Fine. But I want it on record that you asked."
"Just tell me what I'm missing."
Her eyes glowed faintly as she looked at the unit.
"Your alignment is wrong because the base plate is warped. It's not the impeller causing the grinding. It's the shaft catching at an angle under load."
I frowned.
"…That shouldn't..."
She tapped the lower frame.
"It's mounted on uneven ground. And the weld seam here? Sloppy. It's shifting when pressure increases."
I stared at the base. Son of a bitch. I hadn't even checked the mounting surface. I unbolted the frame completely. Leveled the base using scrap shims and flattened metal.
Re-welded the seam properly. Realigned the shaft. Reassembled. Primed. My hands were shaking slightly now. Not from fear. From frustration. I flipped the switch. Buzz. Lower. Steadier.
No grinding. The pressure gauge climbed. Ten. Twenty. Forty PSI. Held steady. Water flowed clean through the outlet pipe, clear and uninterrupted. I watched it for a full ten seconds.
Genesis crossed her arms.
"Well?"
"…It's stable."
"Say it."
I exhaled slowly.
"…Thank you."
She beamed like she'd just won a trophy.
"You're welcome, slave."
I leaned back on my heels, sweat running down my neck as I did as If on cue the veteran jogged back over when he heard the pump running smoothly.
He stared at the steady gauge like it was magic.
"…holy fuck you fixed it."
"Barely,"
I muttered. He grinned, relief obvious.
"Man. You're a lifesaver."
No. Just a mechanic with pride issues, now give me my gods damned xp.
I thought as the pump hummed steadily behind us, pressure gauge holding firm. Water flowed clean into the barrel.
A small group of survivors gathered, whispering like they were watching some kind of miracle.
But the system didnt chim like I expected.
Oh fuck me...
I thought as out of the corner of my eye, I saw the veteran shift. He didn't leave. He didn't clap me on the back. He didn't say "thanks again" and walk off. Instead he scratched the back of his head.
Awkwardly. Seeing this my face immediately went dead fish.
Oh for fuck's sake.
Genesis, who had been hovering smugly beside the pump, slowly turned toward him. Then toward me. And then she started laughing. Not polite giggling. Not subtle amusement.
Full-bodied, doubled-over, wheezing laughter.
"Oh no,"
She gasped between breaths.
"No, no, no. It's happening again."
The veteran cleared his throat.
"Uh… so."
I closed my eyes.
"Don't."
He hesitated anyway.
"I know it's a lot to ask."
Genesis was now floating upside down, pointing at me like I was a circus attraction.
"This is my favorite show."
The veteran continued, oblivious to the metaphysical humiliation unfolding beside me.
"But we're planning to start field planting tomorrow."
Silence. He shifted his weight.
"Got some seeds stored away. A few of the survivors are gonna try and get something in the ground. There's only so much canned stuff left."
He rubbed his neck.
"And, uh… well…"
My eye twitched.
"…You want me to help."
He winced slightly.
"Just guidance, maybe. You know. Layout. Soil prep. Tools. We don't want to waste the seeds."
Genesis clutched her stomach mid-air.
"Yoi built beds,"
She cackled.
"You fixed a water pump. Clearly you are in agriculture sector now."
Before I could respond, the system chimed again. A sharper tone this time.
MISSION UPDATED
You have stabilized infrastructure.
Next priority: Sustainable Food Source.
Objective Added: Assist with Field Planting.
Reward: XP.
The notification hovered in my vision like a smug supervisor. I didn't say anything. I just stared ahead at the dirt. At the crooked fence line. At the horizon that refused to end.
I could feel the weight settling in. Beds. Water. Now food. Infrastructure by attrition. Genesis floated closer, lowering her voice theatrically.
"Say it,"
She whispered.
"Tell him no, dont be a fucking xp whore I dare you."
I rubbed my face slowly, dragging my palm down until it distorted my vision for a second. I was tired. Not physically. Not just physically.
The kind of tired that crawls into your bones and makes even breathing feel scheduled. The veteran waited. Not demanding. Not entitled. Just… hopeful. That was the worst part. I sighed.
"…Got it."
He blinked.
"Really?"
"Tomorrow,"
I said flatly.
"We'll check soil quality. Don't plant anything until I look at the ground."
Relief washed over his face again.
"Thank you. Seriously."
"Yeah."
Genesis clapped slowly.
"And thus, the reluctant warlord of agriculture accepts his destiny."
I walked past the veteran without another word. Past the humming pump. Past the bedframes cooling in the fading light. Camp noise dimmed as evening crept in. Low conversations.
Metal clanking. Someone laughing softly near the cook fire. I found the same corner as last time. Concrete wall. Slight overhang. Shielded from wind. I lowered myself down slowly.
Back against the wall. Knees bent. Rifle resting on my chest. Same position. Same angle. Like I was rebooting instead of sleeping. Genesis hovered nearby for a moment. Still smiling.
"You know,"
She said softly.
"You could just leave."
I didn't respond. She tilted her head.
"You're not their soldier."
Silence. I stared ahead at nothing. The XP bar flickered faintly in my peripheral vision. A reminder. A leash. Or maybe an excuse. My eyes grew heavy. Muscles slackened.
The hum of the pump blended with the crackle of distant fire. The camp felt, quieter. Safer. Because things worked. Because I fixed them. Genesis watched me for a few seconds longer.
"…despite how you act you're very bad at not caring,"
She murmured. My vision blurred. Breathing slowed. Darkness crept in from the edges. And just like before I blacked out. Then after a few hours later cold. Not gentle morning chill.
Not refreshing breeze. Bone-deep, damp, concrete-soaked cold. It crawled through my clothes and settled along my spine like something alive. A few hours later, I groggily opened my eyes.
The first thing that hit me was the air. Sharp. Metallic. Thin. My breath fogged faintly. My brain rebooted in pieces. Location. Camp. Status. Alive. Threat level, nevermind that Its fucking cold.
I stood up immediately. No stretching. No easing into it. Up. My eyes scanned the perimeter in practiced sweeps. Fence line intact. Water pump humming steady in the distance.
Fireplace lit near the center. Cluster of survivors gathered around a cooking pot. No weapons drawn. No panic. No screams. Safe. I exhaled through my nose and bolted toward the fire.
The heat hit my face like a blessing. A crate sat near the edge. I dropped onto it without ceremony.
"So,"
I asked, voice rough and parched from sleep.
"What's for breakfast?"
The same teenage survivor from yesterday looked up from stirring the pot. She hesitated.
"Uh."
"That bad?"
I asked.
She swallowed.
"Mutated fly stew."
I blinked. Genesis appeared at my shoulder instantly.
"Oh fuck no."
She stared into the pot.
"No. Absolutely not. I say you starve before putting that shit into your stomach."
I leaned forward and peered inside. It looked… well viscous. Dark broth. Small segmented shapes floating. Some with wings still attached. But then again protein is protein. I extended my hands.
"Give me some."
The teen looked almost impressed.
"Really?"
"Really."
She ladled a portion into a dented metal bowl and handed it over. Steam rose. Smelled vaguely like burnt mushrooms and wet copper. Genesis gagged dramatically.
"Oh for fucks sake the cockroach stew was bad enough and now this..."
I ignored her and lifted the bowl. The first sip was… not good. Texture wrong. Aftertaste metallic. Something crunched that absolutely should not crunch in liquid. But it was hot.
And calories were calories. So I ate like a fucking champ. Halfway through the bowl the systems notification dinged.
STATUS ALERT: Minor Radiation Contamination Detected
A faint yellow notification flickered in my vision. But I kept chewing anyway.
Radiation Exposure +1
I swallowed. Genesis stared at me in disbelief.
"So youre just gonna tank radiation just like that?"
"Yes."
"Yes and?"
"And it's minor, plus I got that fancy anti radiation solution so no problem here"
Hearing this she threw her hands up.
"Unbelievable."
I finished the bowl. Heat spread through my stomach. Then I sneezed, hard. Followed by a dry cough that scraped my throat raw. Genesis smirked.
"That's what you get from sleeping out in the cold, dumbass."
I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve.
"Or from inhaling wing fragments."
"You could have slept indoors."
"Could have."
"But no. Mr. Concrete Recluse."
I stood up. My joints protested slightly from the cold ground. The survivors watched me expectantly. A few were already holding tools. Improvised shovels. Bent rebar stakes.
One guy had what looked like a flattened stop sign bolted to a broom handle. Right. Food. Infrastructure phase two or whatever. I rolled my shoulders once.
"Alright,"
I said.
"Let's start planting already."
The veteran waved over an older survivor with a gray-streaked beard.
"He's got the seeds."