I ran a hand down my face, before lying my head down.
I don't even know what to think anymore.
There's a mirror reality?
Does that mean there are mirror people too?
And cosmic dust, the Federation has access to a super soldier serum. Explains why pilots are seemingly untouchable.
But wait, why would they tell us this? Is it because they don't expect us to survive long enough to tell anyone?
My brain hurts.
"He's wrong."
I raised an eyebrow, looking over at the cultist.
"Who, Master Apollo?"
She nodded, moving her desk closer.
"Yes, there is no mirror, only a higher existence. I know this, because I've seen it. The voices come, they speak, they travel, but they never leave."
I stared at her.
"You mean god?"
She shook her bald head.
"No, god is not the word. It's bigger, higher, and the light steals power from that existence and changes the lesser one. But there is a price to be paid, oh yes. The light must die."
She leaned even closer.
"Only the void brings true power."
"You're nuts."
"Sanity is a small price to pay for salvation."
I chuckled softly.
It was weird, for the first time her insanity was a welcome distraction from everything. Still, whether it's a mirror reality or the fourth dimension, the result is the same.
Cosmic dust… the light… can create gods.
And if I wanted Lola back, I'd have to be the strongest god there was. Stronger than even Apollo.
— — —
It wasn't long before master Apollo returned with more crates.
He carried two, one in each hand.
Balancing them like they were plates.
"Alright kiddos, got a little more food and some nerve-rigs." He set the crates down. "I want you to eat a bit, then we'll enter a virtual space to begin your actual training."
After a quick round of rations, Apollo began handing out nerve-rigs. These rigs were helmets lined with sensors and needles the size of tiny hairs.
A few prisoners looked at them curiously, while others sat them far away from themselves.
Apollo chuckled as he crossed his legs, taking his seat back on his desk. "I see not all of you are eager to shove this thing on your noggin."
He raised a finger.
"But rest assured, Monica and I are highly trained medical professionals. As long as you don't die instantly, you'll be fine!"
That seemed to make a few more prisoners hesitant.
But Apollo was undeterred. "The faster you get training the faster we're done."
The cultist shrugged, sliding the helmet on with disturbing eagerness. She didn't even flinch as needles engaged with a hiss.
She slumped forward in her seat, out cold.
Every look at her with various expressions.
"Awe what the hell?"
Lumina laughed, putting hers on with a matching carelessness.
"Fuck it."
A prisoner in the back slipped his on too.
One by one prisoners slumped forward.
I let out a long sigh, slipping mine on.
One minute I was staring at Apollo in the hangar. Next, I was in a field of flowers with a digital console in front of me.
I blinked a few times, looking up at the blue skies above me.
I was the only one here.
"How convenient," I grumbled, turning my attention back towards the console.
Wellcome user: Marcus Heart.
The course major selected for you, is: Engineering.
If you have an idea for the subclass you'd like to pursue, please choose from the following.
Civil: walls, bunkers, terrain manipulation, etc.
Mechanical: drones, turrets, machine repair, etc.
Electrical: Emps, traps, railguns, etc.
More…
Please note: you are not locked to one subclass, though it is recommended to master at least one.
I massaged my chin.
"Hmm, I think the answer is obvious."
I tapped the display, and it rippled like water under my touch.
A new sub-menu appeared.
SUBCLASS SELECTED: MECHANICAL.
Loading module 1: Lesson 1: The basics.
Suddenly the display grew to the size of a small house as a man in a lab coat entered the frame.
He was older, with narrowed eyes and a frown.
"Listen up class, cause I'm only going to say this once. This path, in my opinion, is the hardest one to walk."
He began pacing a classroom, packed with students.
"Why? Unlike the other majors, you have to hold complex instructions while under heavy fire. Not only that, but one rogue thought, and your construct goes bye-bye."
The class gasped, but I sat crisscrossed in the dirt.
The video paused as a pen and paper materialized in hand.
Along with a system notice.
It's recommended to take notes of the practical test that follows.
Resume?
I pressed play.
The video resumed with the professor pointing a finger towards the students.
"To demonstrate. I'll throw a complex equation to solve while your peers hound you with nonsense. Every slip-up, and I hit you. So who's up first?"
A boy raised his hand, confident as ever.
The professor grinned.
"Perfect."
What proceeded to follow was almost enough to make me feel bad for the guy. He had an equation with more variables than a high-density logic gate.
He didn't last ten seconds before a ruler popped off his knuckles.
"Too slow, you're dead. Again." The professor sneered as students began talking louder and shaking the boy. He tried again, only to fail over and over.
I gripped the virtual pen.
This was exactly what I needed.
The lecture drifted into a technical breakdown. While the other majors dealt with raw energy or chemical states, the engineering major was a different beast.
Anything, and I mean quite literally anything I wanted to build had to be visualized down to the last minute detail.
Not only that, but the blueprint had to be refreshed and maintained.
And then there was the transmutation Efficiency. I couldn't create a loop like Apollo, so I had to be efficient.
That means no turning dirt into cotton, but steel into steel should be easy enough.
The only real problem would be the electronics, but luckily I don't have to worry about that yet. See, if I made a drone with cosmic dust, I could also control it with said dust.
Kinda like splitting my consciousness between two bodies.
The lecture soon ended and an arena materialized.
In front of it was another display.
Practical test 1: logic in the madness.
Task: create an object under pressure.
Ready?
I pressed the button and stepped into the arena.
The moment I stepped into that arena, I was struck with a wave of sensory overload.
Shouting filled the air, blood-curdling screams and gunfire. It sounded shockingly real. The ground beneath my feet rocked and swayed, making it hard to keep my balance.
The smell of copper and ozone filled the air. It was so potent I could taste it.
A taskbar appeared in the corner of my vision.
Task: create a 15-inch portable fan.
Time limit: 2 minutes.
Think alpha-9 to begin processing, and omega-1 to finish.
I gritted my teeth, covering my ears as I closed my eyes.
And the moment I did, I was hit with something that felt like a punch.
I doubled over, gripping my stomach.
Pain.
A new notification.
Note: always keep eyes open to dodge incoming attacks.
"Great, just great…" I scrambled up, keeping my eyes open as the world around me devolved into chaos.
I looked down at my time, and had already wasted 15 seconds.
Okay, no more.
"Alpha-9!"
I shouted the command, and a shiver ran down my spine.
The sensory overload only worsened with explosions and whizzing bullets that made me wanna puke.
Every random thought that ran through my mind was followed by a painful shock.
Focus!
A fan. 15 inches. Three blades. A brushless DC motor and a wire cage.
I tried to picture the entire thing at once, but it felt like my brain was going to melt through my skull. I dropped to a knee as my body started to cook itself from the inside. And the heat wasn't just physical, it was psychic.
I tried to hold my focus, but another bullet whizzed by close enough that I flinched.
A shock jolted through my body.
Combined with the overwhelming heat I felt like I was going to die.
Trying to print everything at once was a mistake. It's too much data, too many variables.
I was trying to process a terabyte of data with a dial-up connection.
Slow down, bite off what I can chew in a timely fashion.
I took a long breath, standing to my feet and focusing on the floor beneath me.
"Alpha-9."
In the void of my mind, I visualized a simple ring of steel. Its size, shape, and composition.
The ring appeared in the simulation as well.
Floating in the air before me.
I grinned.
I wrapped it in copper wire, imagining the length, width, and weight.
I slotted the fan together piece by piece. The visualization was so clear to me now. Rotor, magnets, bearings, all things I understood intimately.
The cage, front and back. A wire mesh wove itself around the motor. Blades. Polymer. Three-point pitch. The blades snapped into place.
Now for the base.
A heavy block of plastic with a switch.
A wounded federation officer appeared at my feet, missing a leg.
"Help, help me…" he gripped my ankle, squeezing.
My grin grew.
If I wasn't distracted before, sending a federation dog definitely wasn't going to shake me.
Click.
"Omega-1."
Instantly, the world froze.
And floating in front of me, was the fan. It was rough, warped, and had a base that was both blocky and ugly.
I stepped over the frozen officer and turned the fan on.
Whirrrr.
The blades spun to life, a cool breeze hitting my sweaty and bloody face. Yeah, there was blood leaking from my eyes, nose, and mouth.
Simulation complete:
Fan assessment:
Functionality: 100%
Structural integrity: 65%
Aesthetics:11%
Time: 1:58
Personal assessment:
Vitality: 32% (critical)
Status: brain hemorrhage imminent.
Action: Emergency Disconnect.