Spore Batch 05--"People and Animals"
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Fret not, dear reader. I am alive and well for now. My visitor was just a peculiar fellow from Blue Mount named Seven-Fingered Bob. It seems he has an antagonistic relationship with his Mother, and will find any excuse to leave the house at night, when she is most volatile. Bob had recently injured himself helping the folks from Rattle Farm in their attempts to tear down some scrap for their windmill project, and will not be able to be an effective night guard for several weeks. To avoid being at home with his mother, he decided to explore, and looked into where Freya found “those weird fellers.” It turns out he came to the right place, as I have significant medical knowledge and was able to treat his injuries much better. My efforts will probably shave several days off his recovery time. I had previously made a deck of playing cards as a gift to Jock, seeing as he is a compulsive gambler, and used them to teach Bob how to play Yukon to while away the nights whilst standing guard. I also taught him how to play cribbage, and we had a grand time. When it was time for Bob to leave, I sent him off with the deck of cards, and now I have to make another one for Jock. I’m not complaining, mind you. It will keep me busy, which is something I think I need right now.
It seems strange to commit these thoughts to words, writing as though to an actual audience; for all I know, these logs may never be reviewed. I certainly need not look back upon these writings for the sake of nostalgia, for my memory of them will not fade. Stranger still is the confession I am about to make:
I am…lonely. This is strange, isn’t it? I spent the better part of a century alone with no problem at all. However, when I was compelled to awaken Jock and Riley and the promise of interaction with the outside world looms close at hand, it feels as though those 53 years of solitude have come crashing back to hit me all at once. I had feared that Bob—or whoever my visitor turned out to be—would be terrified to meet me because I am a robot. I underestimated his acceptance of people who differ from the norm. Perhaps this is because he can count to 28 on his fingers and toes. He explained to me that “metal men weren’t nothing he’d never heard of before,” and told me his own version of the story of Hubert Hoss whom the Shepherds revere so highly. Seeing Bob’s own acceptance of me, I hate to admit that I may have judged the group too hastily based on what I saw from the spore batches I have received thus far. Hopefully, the team’s sentiments did not mirror my own.
Day 10
The team continued to question their captives, and learned a bit about the Shepherds, their cause, and why they attacked in the first place. It seems there was a bit of mistaken identity involved, as this group had assumed our team belonged to a different faction of Shepherds. Apparently, there is some sort of schism within their ranks, and there are those Shepherds who advocate using pre-war robots as weapons to protect the land and restore civilization. This splinter faction is known as “The Wolves.” Presumably this means that robots such as myself are the sheep? I could see that comparison made for MARS. He’ll simply follow orders so long as they are delivered by authorized personnel since his self-determination routines have clearly not reached maturation yet. Or, perhaps his free will protocols are being suppressed by some master in orbit from whence he came.
The team was interested in meeting the leaders of the Shepherds, but the leader of this small group, a woman named Ash Temple, said that she and her squad were in no condition to make the long journey back to their home due to injuries they had suffered in combat. She proposed that if the team were to escort them back to Sparta where they could rest and recuperate, they would gladly broker a meeting at a future date. Since the team was due to meet up again with Sir Segway any day now, they decided to table the long journey for now, and pursue it later when the group was all together. Since they were getting along better, Ash asked if her people might be allowed some time to properly bury the deceased member of their group. Jock could hardly refuse their request, and observed what passed for their version of last rites. When this task was done, the team set out to return to Sparta.
Day 11
They arrived late the next day, and eventually reported back to Baron Coltrane about the unfinished city they had found. It bore all the marks of a Ghost Town that the Baron was so interested in, but since it wasn’t complete, he didn’t feel inclined to deliver the full amount of the unspecified bounty. Instead, he gave the group a small sum of river chips, 10 free river passes and comped them a lavish meal at the town’s primary watering hole, aptly named “The Watering Hole.” Jock was assured there was gambling to be done at the establishment which veritably assured that at least he would be visiting soon.
With the sun setting, the group left the river depot and were about to make their way to the nearby pub, when Freya’s canine companion Sirius began acting strange, barking at nothing, whining and circling around the albino’s legs in clear signs of distress. Every few moments, this pattern would repeat until she finally asked the beleaguered beast what was wrong. Whatever his response, it caused Freya to set off with a purpose to find the source of the noise that only Sirius could hear. Riley followed close by, with Jock following at a distance.
A few blocks away, Freya spotted a young man standing just outside the reach of a furious guard dog’s chain. The boy was blowing a dog whistle that would render the dog insensate with rage, and while it jerked at the end of its chain attempting to get the hooligan, the boy would laugh wickedly and lash the poor animal with a switch. This display would rightly cause any decent person’s hackles to rise, but when it comes to animals, we can now rest assured that Freya’s hackles are positively capable of taking flight. Without hesitation, she sprinted down the street with the poise and determination of a cruise missile and tackled the boy to the ground. She stripped the switch from his hands and pinned his arms down with her knees, then used the switch to lash him in the face and neck. “How do you like it?!” she snarled at him. Riley served up an extra dose of menace to Freya’s fury, while Jock hung back, seemingly not sure whether to get involved. Once they got the boy—who was probably just hitting puberty—to talk, it transpired that he was just distracting the guard dog so some others could make entry, as the hovel the dog was guarding had been abandoned several days ago by one of the Riker agitators that had drifted into town a while back. Riley and Freya escorted the young man home and turned him over to his drunkard father, explaining his crimes. The father seemed none too impressed at his son’s actions. When the door was closed, the sounds of overbearing punishment instantly rang out. It might have been more humane for Freya to just beat the lad herself and let him go, but she was clearly not concerned with how cruelly those who abused animals might be treated.
The group returned to the burgled house, intent on investigating it themselves. Riley and MARS stood guard at the front while Jock and Freya made their way to the back. They found one of the rear windows had been recently broken from the outside. Jock picked the lock, and the two made entry. They ran into and subdued one burglar. She was a young mutant girl named Roz. Freya projected some of her anger leftover from the boy onto her, since the boy outside had been in league with her, but the girl claimed that she had just asked him to distract the dog, not torture it. They let the girl off with a stern warning, confiscating all of her loot save the food she had found. The only other things she had gathered were some papers and maps that the previous occupant had evidently left behind. Seeing as how this house was unoccupied and the community viewed them rather favorably, Jock had the notion of possibly renting the dwelling himself for the team to use as a base of operations in Sparta. That would likely have to wait until tomorrow when he could speak to Mayor Danforth. With this incident behind them, the group went to the Watering Hole per their original plan.
Jock redeemed the meal voucher given by the Baron, and their treatment by the hostess immediately became top-notch. She escorted them back to a private dining room where they would not have to watch or be watched by less savory patrons, nor have their meal interrupted by the raucous din of the barroom and game tables. They were served one course after the next; soups, salads, breads, meat dishes, vegetables and grains, and their drinks never went empty. It was finer food than Freya had ever eaten, judging by her reaction to each course as it was delivered. She was clearly enjoying it, but at the same time, it seemed to make her uncomfortable. She happened to ask what a meal like this would cost. The hostess explained that it was around a hundred and fifty chips, which soothed Freya a bit, seeing as three people were enjoying it, until she explained that it was 150 per person, which set her back to square one. I am not certain of the exchange rates, yet, but from what I can gather, I believe 150 chips might be enough to keep a single person fed for approximately one month. “It seems so unfair that people like Baron Coltrane and Mayor Danforth probably eat like this all the time…” she muttered to Riley, not knowing where to go with her discomfort. It was free to her; she certainly didn’t seem inclined to squander the opportunity for caloric intake on a matter of principle. While Riley and Freya took in the meal to its fullest, the former explaining certain finer points of the cuisine, such as how to properly consume a flambéed dessert, Jock rushed through the meal and skipped the dessert; more eager was he to get to the card tables.
At one of the tables he fortuitously spotted none other than Mayor Danforth. He took an open seat at the table and was invited to play, making small talk as they explained the rules of the local game to him. It was nothing more complex than regular Hold ‘em, with a buy-in for a draw and a wild card. A bit slower than the game that Jock knew, but it would allow for larger pots. While learning the game, he broached the subject of the abandoned house, and learned that it would be available for rent. Jock then proposed that perhaps they could gamble for it; if he won the Mayor would give him a free month’s rent. The mayor seemed game, but that plan went right out the window when Baron Coltrane took a seat at the table.
He pounced on this opportunity to snatch something away that Jock wanted, and used it to leverage Jock for a favor. The Baron explained that the house was no longer on the market, as he had just sent runners to secure it, purchasing it outright from under Jock. He reasoned that the mayor was not a worthy opponent, and upped the ante: He gave Jock the same deal, but stipulated that if Jock lost, he would agree to take on a job for him. With no hesitation (and no question as to what the job would entail), Jock agreed. After several rousing hands, Jock defeated the Baron easily, raking in quite a pot. Not to let this affront stand, the Baron accepted a rematch, with even higher stakes. If Jock could beat him again, he would turn over the title to the house. Jock threw caution to the wind and engaged him again. Luck was definitely with Jock, and the Baron was close to seething by the time the last hand concluded. Jock definitely softened the sting of the Baron’s loss by gleefully ordering up a round of fine drinks, and declaring that the Baron was such a good sport, he’d still take on his job. This turned Baron Coltrane’s mood right around, and he and Jock then engaged in one of the oldest games of all: Getting piss-drunk.
Riley and Freya were not interested in staying up all night watching Jock abuse his liver or his luck, but he did explain that he had won the house they had visited earlier. They left to settle in and Freya made friends with the guard dog, Bo Jack. Sometime in the middle of the night, the Watering Hole closed down, and the two gamblers had to leave. Baron Coltrane attempted to hitch a ride on MARS, but was unable to keep his footing when the war machine began moving, falling flat on his back twice before coming to his senses a bit. An employee with a cart of booze bottles escorted Jock home, and Jock, unable to negotiate the stairs, slept there all the rest of the night and well into the next day.
Day 12
Unwilling to once again put their lives on hold to match Jock’s schedule, Riley and Freya set about the town with the notion of getting clean. Freya headed off upstream and bathed in the river, as was her custom, making friends with a small river otter in the process (judging by the gift of a fresh fish it left on the doorstep later on). Riley found a bathhouse and splurged a bit on a hot, private bath. One of the girls working the bathhouse, a not-unattractive young woman, seemed quite eager—in an enterprising sort of way—to offer her services toward helping to wash his back and what have you, and I’ll have to admit I was rather surprised that he politely turned her down. He did engage her services to have her fetch him some kind of cigar, and he seemed to be in post-apocalyptic heaven for a while, soaking and smoking.
When the two returned, Jock was still snoring away, and Riley opted to dribble water on him to rouse him. This worked a bit, but he was able to continue snoozing in a slightly dampened state. Freya chose not to fool around and returned armed with a bucket of water from the river nearby, using it to thoroughly douse him, which did the trick. Jock looked about at all the bottles he had come home with and appeared somewhat chagrined by his escapades, and endeavored to make himself ready for a new day. Meanwhile, Miss Nevers stopped by to pay the group a visit with a housewarming gift, and offered Jock an elixir called “Hair of the Dog” to cure his hangover, which sobered him right up. They shared that they were headed back to Blue Mount, at which point Callie inquired if she might accompany them. She reminded them that she was interested in moving on for a while because of the attention the Squidge had brought her, and assured them that she could take care of herself on a journey. She also mentioned that she knew a few spots on the roads nearby to take shelter if they were interested in leaving so late in the day. The team opted to let the young woman accompany them, and set out midday.
A few hours down the road, Miss Nevers told them there was a farmstead and a bit of shelter at which they could make camp. As they continued on, hoping to trade with the farmers for some fresh food, they saw smoke. They made haste to the farm, and found that it had been ransacked. The smoke poured from a barn, and Riley set about fetching pails of water from the well to try and douse the flames. The only soul they found was an inconsolable farmer, who initially accused the group of being bandits, like the ones who had destroyed his farm and murdered his wife and daughter. They quickly proved they meant no harm and set about doing everything they could to help him.
In a short while, the fire in the barn was extinguished, and Freya saw the slaughter the raiders had perpetrated there: they apparently killed several animals for nothing more than to spill their blood. There certainly wasn’t any sport to it, unless one counts the challenge of smashing a chicken with a sledgehammer as sporting. She quietly slipped off with Sirius right behind her, and did not return for over two hours. Since Freya does not release spores yet, I do not know what she was up to while away from the others.
While Freya was gone, Misters Harris and Riley attempted to console the farmer and treat the wound to his head. They listened to his brief, anguished tale. Riley slipped the man some of Jock’s leftover liquor in order to calm him, ease his pain and let him sleep. When he was slumbering, Jock used his Esper talents to perform miraculous repairs to the ruined barn, and Riley had a dark suspicion brewing. He headed to where the farmer had indicated he’d just buried his family.
Fang was already there, pawing at one of the plots of freshly churned earth, and whining for attention. Riley grabbed a shovel and began digging, and after a while, a hand broke through the dirt, stretching and reaching. Riley grabbed the hand and pulled, unearthing a young woman gasping for air. She appeared to have been shot through the chest and dirt cloyed to blood on her head and face. She remained awake long enough to ask where her mother and father were before Jock responded to Riley’s urgent call for assistance. Jock immediately embraced the child, said his prayers and they both fell unconscious under the influence of Jock’s healing ability.
The sleeping girl was settled in somewhere away from her father; they did not want him to wake up and find that they had exhumed her without a convincing story as to why she was still alive. They also did not want him to carry the guilt of having buried her when she was not really dead. When Jock came to and Freya had returned, her mood still understandably foul, they plotted how they might best serve these people.
Their plans were interrupted when Callie, who was cleaning up the inside of the house and keeping an eye on the farmer, let loose a blood-curdling scream.
And here is where I am left hanging once again, blast and bugger it. It appears that release of data spores is temporarily interrupted by spikes in the subject’s adrenaline or by other triggers that correspond to bouts of excitement and activity. I will likely have to wait on the edge of my seat for several hours until Jock and Riley’s spore network will begin releasing data again. Meanwhile, I am left to wonder what has become of them, and whether I will be more alone than before.
