Dawn found Kareem still awake, hunched over his workbench. The schematic for the atmospheric water generator was etched into his mind with perfect clarity, every wire, every connection, every dimension precisely recalled. He had spent the night sketching the design, creating detailed drawings that captured the complexity of the device. What amazed him most was not just the sophistication of the technology, but its elegance—a system that could extract moisture from the air and convert it to pure drinking water using principles he had only dimly understood from pre-Fracture texts.
He performed his morning prayers with a sense of urgency, his mind already calculating what resources he would need. The Archive had specified the basic materials—scrap metal, silicon crystals, copper wiring—but the quantities and specific configurations were crucial. Too little of one component, or an impurity in another, and the entire system might fail.
As he prepared to leave his workshop, Kareem carefully hid the crown beneath a false bottom in an old storage chest. It was too dangerous to leave it exposed, especially with the council meeting scheduled for later that day. If anyone discovered what he had found, they would either dismiss it as dangerous pre-Fracture technology or, worse, try to claim it for themselves.
The morning air in Oasis was thick with dust and anxiety. Water rations had been reduced again, and tempers were short. As Kareem walked toward the communal dining area for a modest breakfast, he overheard worried conversations.
"My children are thirsty all the time," said a mother, her voice strained. "The water we get tastes of metal and makes them sick."
"The elders say we must pray for rain," replied an old man. "But the sky has been empty for months."
Kareem's hand tightened around his breakfast bowl. Prayer is essential, but God helps those who help themselves, he thought. And soon, we will help ourselves.
After breakfast, he made his way to the storage depot, where the community's collective resources were kept. The depot was managed by Old Man Hassan, a veteran scavenger who had lost his leg in a cave-in years ago. Hassan had an encyclopedic knowledge of every item in the depot and a stubborn attachment to every piece of scrap.
"Morning, Kareem," Hassan grunted, not looking up from the inventory list he was updating. "What do you need today?"
"I'm working on a new filtration system," Kareem said, choosing his words carefully. "I need some copper wiring, a few sheets of scrap metal, and any silicon crystals you might have."
Hassan finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Silicon crystals? Those are rare. What do you want with them?"
"I think I can improve the conductivity of the filtration system," Kareem explained, which wasn't entirely a lie. "Better conductivity means more efficient purification."
The old man studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "The council authorized any reasonable requests for water-related projects. Take what you need, but log it properly. Every piece counts."
As Kareem gathered the materials, he felt a pang of guilt for not being completely honest with Hassan. But he knew the truth would be met with skepticism, possibly even fear. The people of Oasis had learned to be wary of advanced technology, which they associated with the cataclysm that had destroyed their world.
With his supplies secured, Kareem returned to his workshop. He spent the next few hours organizing the materials and preparing his workspace. The schematic in his mind was so clear that he didn't need to refer to his drawings. Every step of the assembly process was laid out in perfect sequence, as if he had built this device a hundred times before.
It was midday when Layla found him, her shadow falling across his workbench.
"The council meeting is in an hour," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "You're not still planning to propose that solar pump idea, are you? We both know the council won't approve the resource allocation."
Kareem looked up from the copper wiring he was carefully stripping. "I have a new approach. Something more efficient."
Layla's eyes drifted to the materials on his workbench. "This looks more involved than your usual projects. What exactly are you building?"
"A better water system," he said vaguely. "I'll explain at the meeting."
She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You've been different since you returned from your scavenging trip yesterday. More focused, almost... energized. Did you find something out there?"
Kareem hesitated, tempted to confide in his oldest friend. But the secret of the Archive felt too heavy to share, too dangerous to reveal. "I just had some time to think," he said finally. "About how we've been approaching our problems all wrong."
Layla nodded slowly, though he could tell she wasn't entirely satisfied with his answer. "Well, whatever you're planning, make sure you're ready to defend it. The council is in no mood for experiments, especially with the water situation getting worse."
After she left, Kareem took a moment to center himself before the meeting. He performed a brief prayer, asking for clarity and wisdom. He knew the council would be resistant to new ideas, especially something as revolutionary as what he proposed to build. But he also knew that without change, Oasis would not survive another dry season.
As he made his way to the council chamber, he reviewed his approach one more time. He wouldn't mention the Archive or the crown—that would only invite fear and opposition. Instead, he would focus on the results, on the promise of clean water for their community. It was a matter of justice, of providing for the basic needs of their people. And that was a principle worth fighting for, regardless of the obstacles.