Chapter 15: Plans Beyond the Farm
The morning came quietly. Ava blinked awake to the faint hum of the system necklace resting against her collarbone, its pulse almost like a heartbeat she could sense but not hear. The apartment around her was calm, the usual morning light leaking through half-drawn curtains. The silence was strange, but not uncomfortable—it was the kind of quiet that followed a long, draining day.
She stretched, rubbing her eyes. Dinner the night before had been simple—takeout noodles eaten around her dining table, everyone too mentally drained from exploring folded-space fields and discussing factories to care about presentation. No one had lingered for chatter afterward. They'd all drifted off into guest rooms and couches, letting exhaustion do the work of pulling them under.
Now, the faint sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen reached her ears. Ava smiled. Someone was awake before her.
When she padded out in her pajamas, she found Alyssa standing at the counter, neat as ever, stirring sugar into a steaming mug. "Morning," Alyssa said softly, as if not to break the lingering hush. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I expected," Ava admitted. "Like I'd been carrying weights all day, and they finally dropped off."
Alyssa nodded. "That's about right." She pushed a mug toward Ava. "Hot Choco. Thought you'd need it."
Ava accepted gratefully. The warmth grounded her. "Thanks."
Within half an hour, the apartment stirred to life. Zephyr stumbled out of the guest room in a hoodie three sizes too big, his hair sticking up in every direction. "Coffee," he croaked, zombie-like, which made Alyssa arch a brow but oblige. Lyra followed soon after, dressed crisply as though she hadn't just woken up, and Brian trailed in from the couch, rubbing at his shoulder with a wince. Kael was the last to appear, looming silently in the hallway until Ava shoved a plate of toast into his hands as peace offering.
They ate breakfast with the kind of casualness that only came after sharing something immense. No one said much at first, but eventually, conversation trickled in.
"So…" Zephyr mumbled between bites of scrambled eggs, "we're apocalypse farmers now. That's cool. But… also… terrifying."
Brian chuckled. "You're only just processing that?"
"Hey, yesterday was all 'ooh, folded-space wheat fields' and 'look, bees make honey without me lifting a finger.' Now it's hitting me. Like, for real. We're actually doing this." He paused, dramatically pointing his fork. "We're not just gamers anymore—we're future doomsday preppers with style."
Lyra smirked. "You'd better hope the apocalypse appreciates your sense of style."
"It will," Zephyr declared confidently. "If the world's ending, I'm going out fabulous."
Ava laughed, but then she set her mug down and leaned forward slightly. "Jokes aside… we need to talk about the next step. The farm is stable for now, and the warehouse is unlimited, so we don't need to worry about overflow. But…" She glanced at the necklace, as though the faint glow reminded her. "We can't just rely on the system. Not yet. There's still a year on the countdown."
"And in that year," Brian said, catching on, "we'll need supplies. Tools. Fuel. Things the system can't just magically generate."
Alyssa nodded firmly. "Exactly. The farm is the foundation. But infrastructure around it? That's on us."
Zephyr groaned dramatically, flopping back into his chair. "So you're saying… supply runs."
"Yes," Ava said, smiling faintly. "Supply runs."
Kael finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. "We'll need a plan. Can't just go running around filling carts like idiots. What do we prioritize?"
"Food and medicine," Lyra answered without hesitation. "Even with the farm, there are vitamins and specific nutrients we might not replicate right away. And medicine is always scarce in disasters."
Brian nodded. "Tools, too. Construction equipment, fuel storage, spare parts. The system's good, but not omnipotent."
Zephyr raised a finger. "Board games."
Everyone stared at him.
"…What?" he said defensively. "We'll need morale boosters! You think farming folded-space cows 24/7 will be fun with no entertainment? Nah. Monopoly saves lives."
Alyssa pinched the bridge of her nose. "We'll consider entertainment… later."
Ava laughed, though she waved to settle them. "Okay, so supplies are one thing. But the harder part is…" She hesitated. "…our families."
The table quieted at once.
"Right," Lyra said after a pause. "We can't just keep this secret forever. They'll notice if we start hoarding fuel and antibiotics in your living room."
Zephyr's eyes widened. "You mean… we're telling them? All of them? Like, hey Mom, guess what, the world's ending in a year, and I have a magic farm in folded space—don't freak out?"
"No," Ava said quickly. "Not all of them. Not yet. Just… immediate family. Parents, maybe siblings. That's it. People who need to know."
"Because the more people know," Alyssa added sharply, "the harder it is to control. Loose lips sink ships."
Brian rested his elbows on the table, thoughtful. "And telling them now buys us freedom later. If our parents think we're just being weird and secretive, they'll limit us. If they know, at least partly, they'll understand why we're doing supply runs."
Kael gave a small nod. "Immediate family only. Extended relatives, friends… not yet. Too risky."
Zephyr squirmed in his chair. "But what if they don't believe us? I mean, a system farm? Folded-space chickens? It sounds insane."
"Then we show them," Ava said simply. "One trip into the system, and no one can deny it."
Silence followed her words, but it wasn't tense—just heavy with thought. Everyone at the table was processing the same thing: their world was about to expand, but it would also become more complicated.
Finally, Lyra broke it with a practical tone. "So the plan is: supply runs start small. We list essentials, split categories, and pace it out. We tell our immediate families soon, but not all at once. And we make sure they see enough to understand without panicking."
"And," Ava added, "we keep reminding ourselves this isn't about fear. We have time. A whole year. We're building, not scrambling. That's our advantage."
Zephyr perked up again, his grin returning. "Right. We're not desperate preppers. We're stylish apocalypse pioneers with a system farm."
Alyssa rolled her eyes, but even she smiled faintly.
They spent the next hours sketching out ideas on Ava's dining table, paper and laptops scattered between mugs and plates. Alyssa made neat lists: medicine, tools, non-perishables, water filters, fuel. Brian added notes on logistics—transport, storage, safety protocols. Lyra cross-referenced with efficiency, asking which items could complement what the farm produced. Kael scribbled silent but steady input on security measures.
Zephyr doodled bees in the margins.
Every so often, Ava glanced at the necklace, its faint glow reminding her that time ticked forward. But instead of dread, she felt a steady calm. They weren't waiting for the end. They were building toward a beginning.
When the afternoon sun streamed across the living room, they leaned back, lists growing long but organized.
"So," Zephyr said, breaking the pause, "when do we actually… y'know… go shopping for the apocalypse?"
Ava grinned. "Soon. But first, we start with our parents."
A ripple of quiet laughter followed—not because the task was funny, but because it was the kind of challenge that suddenly felt more daunting than folded-space farming or factory upgrades.
Convincing their families would be harder than building the apocalypse's first super-farm. But together, Ava knew, they'd manage.
And as the faint hum of the system pulsed against her chest, she couldn't help but smile.
They weren't just surviving. They were preparing. And the world, whether it was ready or not, would one day see what they had built.