[center][b]The Spark[/b][/center] ----- [indent][i]A small spark of life trembled tumultuously, its being struggling to take shape. Was it a being, was it real? It didn't know, but it wanted to be, or at least it thought it wanted to be. Did it think? It must have, though not explained in such words. It was a very confusing thing to be awake, before being awakened. It was nothing but a spark, a small twinkling of existence in a vast ocean of others like it, possibly. Nothing was for certain, not here, in this whiteness. A space devoid of color, of anything, but the spark. A sterile environment of nothingness. The spark could feel it's form pulsing, was it alive? No, not yet, something was missing. But the little spark did not know what it was that it longed for, only that it was necessary. For what, the little spark did not know. It did now that it existed, somewhere, not how, not why, just that it was and shall be.[/i][/indent] [indent][i]It was then that the little spark felt itself grow, or perhaps expand. It felt its form quiver and stretch, and then break, and reform, only to repeat the cycle. It did not feel pain, no, it didn't know what pain was, yet. Another quiver, another break, another bond. It could see, but not like normal sight. It saw all around it, without eyes, it saw the others. Other forms quivering, gliding, and rolling along the white space. How did they move? It questioned, it watched. Then it moved, it's spongy, goo like shape dragging itself. It tried to reach out to the others, the long ones with wiggly little appendages, the round ones with stiff protrusions. But the little spark could not, it did not know how. So it watched, it quivered and split, and then it reformed.[/i][/indent] [indent][i]It only occurred to the spark, after it had split and reformed several hundred times, to look in rather than out. So it did, but it had no gaze to turn, it simply willed it, and it was. What it saw, it did not know. A dark surface, reflective, with the consistency of jell-o, though the little spark did not know what jell-o was. It saw itself were it broke, and how the two pieces wiggled back together and formed the bond. It looked at its own thoughts, before it thought them, racing across itself as tiny blue charges. When the blue charges reached a churning mass of something even darker than itself, it thought whatever it idea had been contained in that little blue charge. A break, a bond, a charge, a thought. It grew ever bigger. Until it couldn't see those others it had first seen like itself, but those were formed to become bigger, or traveled across something bigger. Worlds of conscientiousness traveled upon larger worlds of consciousness, a forever repeating pattern.[/i][/indent] [indent][i]Then it moved, the little spark spanning distances a hundreds times faster than it could have previous, it had counted several thousand breaks and reformations of the bonds. It could feel its liquid body move across the white surface. It grew further, breaking and forming, repeating. A dark piece of itself would split into two lighter pieces, then two pitch black pieces would form to each of those, creating the dark piece that would eventually split again. But it could move while this happened, so it did. The endless expanse of white was, in fact, endless. But the spark knew that would not be so, as it expanded. Or so it thought, its entire world lurched and the white folded up in front of the little spark, coming down on top of it. But it continued to exist between the space of the white, because it had learned that everything had a space between it, even itself. So it moved, and as it grew bigger it saw a strip of brightness, so that's where it went, seeking the thing that it needed.[/i][/indent] ---- [center][b]REFUGE[/b][/center] ---- [indent]Deep below the grand entrance of the mall, which was now a bunker of militaristic might. Inside the doors, across the tiled walk. Down the flights of metal stairs that once moved themselves, passing each switch back. Down further still, away from the crowds of people. Those who would sell, and those who would buy. Past those who would steal and maim, between those less fortunate. Far underneath the hungry and the weak. Past the shops rotting and stitched together, taped and bandaged. Farther still, below the clinics and dentists, the doctors and elixirs. Underneath the dirt and grime, to the bottom. The floor of pristine cleanliness, or so the order was supposed to be maintained.[/indent] [indent]Though it was not always this way. The standards of the new world were much lower than that of the previous. Questionable meats were sold at high prices, the weak were forgotten, perhaps the latter is not so different. Cleanliness standards dropped far below the marginalized threshold, spreading sickness and disease. Though soap was still a high commodity. But it was one, a vision of prospective cleanliness, one who followed the standards. It was an innocent mistake, a lab coat, carried out of a sterile environment. Yet, it wasn't the lab coat itself. It was something on the coat, it took mere seconds to form, though it had been there all along. Exposure to something set it off, perhaps a unique scent, a temperature, moisture.[/indent] [indent] The budding, thing, dropped from the coat, no larger than the tip of a pencil. It hit the concrete, but it did not splatter, it did not splash. Rather it dissipated through the tightly bonded linoleum tiles, into the even denser concrete. It flowed through easily, until it found the earth. Down further still, until it found a pipe. A remnant of a world long past, still retaining an ancient piece of history, albeit quite a small piece. A puddle rather, of water. Blackwater. The small particle found its way into the pipe, dropping itself into the puddle. It was complete, the water was what it needed. The liquid was a seed, that much was clear as a small green leaf sprouted from the puddle. The tiny plant shuddered, and suddenly the little leaf became two, then three, the stalk split and became vines that ravaged their way through the pipe. This bundle of genetic information exploded outwards, smashing free of the large pipe, finding the earth and burying its tendrils in it.[/indent] [indent]It spread itself underneath the expansive structure above, following the pipe outwards. Its green tendrils racing like a sea of serpents. The genetic code, a coil now released, was at its end. The Little Spark would continue to grow, but much slower as it was no longer an atomic bomb of information. It was whole, it had thought. It had knowledge, and it thirsted for more. A tendril burst from the earth, far from the refuge. It snaked across the old, cracked asphalt. Through the grass and around trees. It twined itself in others like it, and with every species of flora it communicated with, it learned.[/indent] [i][b]The Spark is learning...[/b][/i] ---- [center][b]ELI[/b][/center] ---- [indent]Filtered sun beams scattered across Eli's little home, spreading from a center location on his ceiling. Though it wasn't technically sunlight, but a clever imitation. A spherical bulb surrounded by curving wood slats, jury rigged to his alarm clock. When the buzzing of his clock went off at precisely 6:30a.m, so did the little rays of light. Eli's hand wandered over to the small table besides his small, uncomfortable bed. Though when one was a dead tired as he usually once, even the ground felt nice. His hand slapped the table top, knocking something off, he cocked his arm back again and let loose, this time hitting the small clock. Power was provided by the saviors, they had an array of solar-lunar generators, but it was maintained off of taxes. Many people had their own sources, Eli just paid the miniscule fee. He had a few tools he used sometimes, a light, and a clock. He didn't need much.[/indent] [indent]His feet found the floor as he rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes. He lived in what had been a two room dentists parlor at one point. The lobby was his living room, dining room, and kitchen. The back, after removing the dental chair, contained his bed. His didn't mind that his little abode didn't have facilities, there were public restrooms that still functioned. And by functioned he meant opened directly into the flooded sewers, which were constantly flowing somewhere. No, life wasn't too bad around here. He laced up his boots and stood up, feeling his joints popping quietly. He slept in his fatigues and tank top, leaving only the duster he liked to wear to be desired. He grabbed the dog tags he had knocked over off the ground and put both pairs on, looking fondly at the pair that belonged to Jonathan Green. He smiled sadly, heading out of his room. He pasted the small, two chaired table, the corner he made fires in, choosing to grab his duster from a hook near the door. He slipped the piece on over his shoulders and unlocked his solid metal door. The little shop windows had been replaced by metal sheets as well.[/indent] [indent] He had roughly two hours before he needed to be topside. Outside on the fifth level the small city was barely waking up. The night owls heading home to turn in for the day. This was his favorite time of the day. It wasn't very crowded, if you avoided stepping on the homeless, you could have a pleasant walk. Which he did. He first stopped by the post, the place never closed to Eli's knowledge. After a quick word to the bartender Eli walked away satisfied. At least eighteen people knew about his notice, not bad for a single day's warning. He headed down to floor nine.[/indent] [indent]Eli stood outside of a small shop, containing only a handful of tables inside, and out. [i]”Tesla's Tacos”[/i] was one of his favorite places to eat. Whereas all meat was questionable, he felt the Terry Tesla's was, less so. He came there pretty frequently, usually choosing the slower breakfast times.[/indent] [b]”Hey Terry! Electrocute me at least three of those rodents and put them in shells 'ey?”[/b] A large, bubbly woman burst from the back of the shop, dressed in a greasy checkered shirt with a red banana around her thick neck. The woman was large, but bubbly in a happy sense. [b]”I saw yah notice, I knew yah'd be by today,” a plate of steamy tacos found their way to the counter, “Yuh always come by before a big thing like that, as if you couldn't die peacefully without knowing how my not-a-rodent tacos tasted.”[/b] She said in a thick brooklyn accent. It was also true. Eli dug in the pocket of his duster, setting a box similar to the one that held Davi's cigars on the counter. She looked at it curiously, opening the lid. Eli smiled when he saw her eyes widen. [b]”It's payment and a gift, call it customer satisfaction.”[/b] He stated. Inside the box were three small bottles of a coffee liquor he knew she absolutely loved, and a writ worth 30 credits, covering the cost of the food. She took the writ, held it up to the light to check it, and smiled broadly. [b]”Thankya Hon, you know how to make an old woman smile.”[/b] [indent]Eli imitated the tipping of a cap, took his tacos, and left. He ate them as he walked back along the ninth floor, up to the fifth. He figured he might as well get suited up, check his gun, and other pre-expedition tasks. He ignored the hungry eyes watching him, the cries of a man selling some cure-all tonic. He smiled at those he knew, and shook a hand or two even though his hands were quite greasy. In no time at all, just as the pathways were beginning to fill up with people, Eli was locking his door behind him. He used hand sanitizer to wash his hands before suiting up in his armor.[/indent] [indent]The clock read 7:35a.m by the time he had gathered his supplies, checked the functionality of his gear, and cleaned his assault rifle. Hell the only thing he hadn't done was polish his suit, or boots. He hefted himself off of the creaky chair he was sitting on, forever waiting for the day that it would snap under his weight. He shouldered the assault rifle, clipped on his helmet, and headed topside. Most people avoided bumping into him just because of how he looked in full gear, which he didn't mind. His armor yelled [i]'Don't fuck with me,'[/i] which was pretty much its intended purpose. Besides the obvious benefits. He made his way through the crowd, going up the unpowered escalators, the stairs. Each flight ended with a switch back, leading up to the next level. The flow of people moved up like salmon heading up river. Eli could clearly make out who would be going outside the walls, and who would not. He wondered how many were going to meet him in the courtyard. His answer would come soon.[/indent] [indent] Another typical, cloudless day greeted him topside. Many of the dwellers shielded their eyes, since Eli was looking through optics the bright light had trouble blinding him. It was a short walk down a wide thoroughfare until he reached the courtyard, where at least two dozen people milled about. He was planning on taking eight, which included himself. He had to pick seven candidates. Not his favorite job, but he felt he did a pretty good job gauging people, and their abilities. He took off his helmet:[/indent] [b]”Goodmorning!” He said loudly, formally, like a drill instructor, “Just so we're clear, this [i]IS[/i] a suicide mission!.”[/b] He said the last bit with heavy emphasis, which resulted in the statement's intended effected. Immediately four people turned and left, taking their measly gear with them. [b]”I'd like to retract my earlier statement, this is not a goodmorning.”[/b] He stood in front of the group, looking at each of them in turn. He saw some familiar faces, some he had heard about, but the vast majority he did not know. [b]”What about the suicide part? Are you retracting that?”[/b] A short, wide-eyed asked. He looked like someone had armed the workers of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. [b]”No, that is a fact.”[/b] Eli replied calmly. Another man stepped forward, dressed in bits of leather and pieces of car tires covering his shoulders, [b]”Ya? And what makes you so sure of that spaceman?”[/b] The cheap shot remark at Eli's gear was wasted. He smiled at the man, [b]“You caught me, it's not suicide, at least not for you. Denied.”[/b] The man grumbled a few obscenities and stormed off to whatever hole he had crawled from. [b]”Anybody else?”[/b] Eli asked. The short, pudgey man who had spoken up early turned to leave, along with three others. The others looked adamant in their participation for this event. [b]”You're not going to get a speech, if you do as I say most of us will come back from this. In the event that you weigh the group down, I will leave you. If you become a burden, I will leave you. If you become annoying, provided I don't shoot you, I will leave you. Anybody else want to leave?”[/b] Nobody moved. This was good, Eli liked resilient people. [b]”You,”[/b] He said, pointing at a the literal definition of a samurai, at least she looked like one. Hell she was even Japanese to boot, [b]”Why exactly are you here samurai? I doubt it's honor.”[/b] Eli said, blatantly throwing that jab at her. She seemed to take it stoically, unflinching. [b]”"The reward, mainly. Good materials are hard to come by, so getting a cut of 18.000 credits that I can use? No way in hell I'm gonna say no to that."[/b] She glanced away, just for a moment as she spoke. It was a curious tell, something you looked for in liars, but Eli was no interrogator, despite the charade he was putting up. [b]"What makes me think you won't become dead weight"[/b] He asked, staring at her intently. [b]"Mention one guy here who can repair a weapon on the field should it get damaged. Right, I thought so. Plus, a sniper is never deadweight, nor is someone who can kill without a sound."[/b] She said haughtily, apparently quite confident in her abilities. He also liked that, confidence. He moved on. [b]”And you?”[/b] He asked a rather tall, dark skinned gentleman. He was dressed in fatigues but bore no markings. Eli could almost pin him as a Savior. [b]”Ex-Ranger, I fought my ware here from Missouri with nothing but a knife, after being left for dead.”[/b] He man said. He stood formally, like a soldier, Eli wondered why the Saviors hadn't brought him in. Perhaps he fancied the high paying contract work more. [b]”Brettan Ruge' , I've heard rumors of you.”[/b] Eli said, before moving on. [indent] The questioning of thirteen people, of weeding out the weak and worthless, took around thiry minutes. Eli felt he was making good time. It wasn't too long until he had made his decision. The samurai would be useful indeed, and she was loaded with weapons. The ex-ranger seemed efficient, rangers excelled in firefights and close quarters combat. Then there was the scout. Eli had heard rumors of this one, though he didn't remember the very fitting names they used. The Russian with the stereo typical name of Boris, but he had an rpg launcher. Rpg's were always nice. Eli chose a secondary scout, missing his name, but it would be useful for when the woman wanted to relay a message without leaving her position, she could take him. The final spot was filled by a blonde man, who boasted about his medical capabilities.[/indent] [b]”The Samurai, The Ranger, The Medic, The Russian.”[/b] He said aloud, watching as each stepped away from the crowd in order. He saw some dismayed faces in the crowd, but he didn't care. This was survival. [b]”The Female scout, to be the lead. The Male scout, to be her messenger. Any problems?”[/b]