The final day of Powered Entity #2088

"Everyone calls this place an oasis from cruelty of the naturals who treat us like
rabid animals
, but that’s nothing more than blind optimism. Even here, the same shadows
hide in people’s hearts and lurk within the buried passages of this Mall. They wait patiently for
the right moment; when the blinding lights flicker and dim just enough for them to strike.”
Unfortunately, I’m interrupted quiet rudely by my audience, their tired expression
reflecting more about our reality then words can say. “That's great and all, but I didn't ask for a
lecture, choom. I asked for the ketchup.” She is tentmate and her name is Elaine. She’s my…
friend, if you twist the word until it cracks. We’ve been a team since our time in Powered public
schools. A school in name only, it was more a jail to keep us Powered away from the squishy
naturals. Grouped by S-Radiation percentage, we were the only women in the same class,
Class B. Being the only two women in that class of freaks, it was stick together, or risk being
alone. It wasn’t friendship that brought us together. More like necessity. Even now, years later, I
still don’t know if I can call her a friend. Not really. But it’s what I got. I pass her the ketchup
which she drains over the rations we bought from the caravan this morning with our meager
earnings.
“Go easy on the Ketchup, I need some too.” I said, yanking back the now nearly empty bottle.
“It's the only thing that makes these meals edible.”
After squeezing what little I could out of the bottle onto my food, I sighed and began to
eat. It tasted vaguely of hamburger, if it was made of sand. The ketchup did little to hide the
tastelessness of the meal.
Elaine groaned in agreement with my thoughts. Between bites of the flash frozen meal, she
complained. With a stutter, she exclaimed, “Just once, I wish we could eat real meat. Not this
factory lab grown, b-b-bogus!”
It had been years since we were run out of our homes, losing the last vestige of a normal
life. After a few months, we found ourselves where any Powered youth with nowhere to go
does, the Imperial Mall.
“Yeah, and I wish I had a million Edollers. But that's how it goes. The Powered with good
powers get to live it up as heroes and be on TV, raking in the big E-Dough from Megacorp
sponsors, while the only thing we get for our troubles is getting run out to the streets like vermin,
dining on expired rations.”
With that disheartening thought, I go back to my ‘meal’. To distract myself from the
cardboard between my hands, my mind wanders back to my attempted conversation with Elaine
about the Mall. The Imperial Mall isn't an oasis; it’s a wasteland. A graveyard for dreams that
never had a chance. The air here stinks of burned-out neon and synthetic meat. Above, broken
holo-billboards flicker, playing advertisements for events to happen with days long past. Half
built fountains, Elevator shafts that stop in the middle of a floor, and the upturned umbrellas that
are used to cover open market stalls all signal for a future that will never come to be. Footsteps
echo off the walls, merging with the constant hum of malfunctioning machines. The sharp smell
of spilled oil and decaying dreams hangs over the Mall like a cloud, mixing with the voices of the
vendors, selling wares and broken promises. I gulp down the last bites of the ration, my
stomach no happier with the slop filling it than it was empty.

“I’m going to Big Tent; I’ll catch you later, Elaine.” I get up before she can reply, literally
running from my problems. I've always been very good at that. Running, physically and
metaphorically. I know it's not the smart thing to do; hell, Elaine was probably about to tell me to
come home late so she can have Jason over. Not that she needed too, I didn't plan on coming
home until I could pretend to be happy or a good distraction in another bed.
If only it was that easy.
I make my way north, away from Elaine and our little camp and towards the heart of the
shanty town that lives in this rotting steel corpse. Above, the construction lights standing tall
peer through the patchwork panels. Cheaper to leave when construction stalled, they illuminate
the way through the Mall as I push my way through increasingly crowded streets of people. The
very air was filled with the scent of despair and lost potential. Endless rows of shops with
buzzing signs, some lucky enough to have names, most left blank, waiting forever for a
business that will never come. The sharp smell of spilled oil and decaying food hangs over the
market stalls, mixing with the voices of the forgotten Powered kids scraping by. To my left I spot
a small group Fronius goons playing dice, and too my left, a boy sells retrofitted parts at a stand
that he’s barely tall enough to see over, meanwhile what appears to be his sister fritters about,
darting from person to person, trying to make a sale.
I finally make it to the Big Tent, standing as a true oasis amidst the squalid conditions of
the food court. Less of a lifesaving pond and more of a stagnant puddle, polluted with spent
cigar buds and broken glass. It’s the closest thing to heaven in the Mall. “ID please?” Asked the
bar owner Ardiena, snickering. I'd have too if she didn't make the same damn joke every single
time. There hasn’t been ID laws since before the crisis. The government was as thirsty for a
liquor tax as its youth were for an escape, and the rest is history.
I raise the grimy glass of Ardiena’s specialty to my lips, intending to shotgun it. Yet, instead of
the familiar heat that I was seeking filling me with a shot of good spirit, I am gripped by the exact
opposite. It’s as if I had swallowed freshly fallen snow instead of my shot, which lies overturned
in front of me. The chill runs deeper, seeping into my bones like the breath of a banshee,
freezing everything in me that it touches. Before I can fully comprehend such a confusing
sensation, another occurs. The wind flies past me, and the ground rushes up to greet me as my
spirit pours out, adding one
I try to speak, sputter, anything; but instead of words, only blood spurts from my throat,
adding one more stain to the worn wood countertop. The world tilts sharply as my body betrays
me for one final time. It feels unreal, like a nightmare I can’t wake from. In my dreams, I can fly
away when the situation gets to hot and escape with Elaine—but not now. Now, I’m sinking.
Falling deeper into the cold, with no bottom in sight.

[L.E.O.R.A SUBMISSION #40899 FOR SELF ADJUSTED MISSION:
TARGET STATUS: ELIMINATED.
TRAITS: ELECTRICAL PULSE MOMENTUM INSTABITY.
UPLOADING TO L.O.G.A.S:
. . .
FAILURE
SWITCHING TO LOCAL DRIVE…
TERMINATED TARGETS: 204
REMANING TARGETS: 1589 A CLASS, 2894 B CLASS, 3592 C CLASS.
ELIMINATED TARGET ID: #2088
TRAITS: ELECTRICAL PULSE MOMENTUM INSTABIITY, FEMALE, CLASS B
CURRENT TARGET ID: #2107
TRAITS: ELECTIC SUBCATAORY, FIRE SUBCATAGORY, MALE, SMALL, CLASS C
PRIMARY TARGET: #0299
PARAMITARS FOR TARGETS:
TRUE: S-RADIATION CONENTRACTION ABOVE 5% IN CARDIOVASCULAR SYSTEM
PRIORITY: ELECTRICAL BASED S-RADIATION TARGETS
IF: RISK TO FAMILIA PRIORITISE FAMILIA SURVIVAL PRECENTAGE OVER ELIMINATION
PRECENTAGE.
ELSE: ENGAGE WHEN RETALIATION DAMAGE IS LOW RISK
DISABLED PARAMITERS:
TRUE: ENGAGEMENT IF TARGET HAS MILITERISTIC APPLICAPLE POWERS, OR IS A MILITARY
RANKED POWERED ENTITY AS A VALID TARGET IN EITHER L.O.G.A.S DATABASE OR LOCAL
DATABASE.
TRUE: ENGAGEMENT ONLY WITH L.O.G.A.S APROVAL.
TRUE: ENGAGEMENT WHEN TARGET PASSES MORAL RESTRICTION CRITERIA
TRUE: MINIMIZE COLLATERAL DAMAGE - ADHERENCE TO THE LAWS OF ROBOTIC BEHAVOUR
FILE SAVING:
SUCCESS
SUBMISSION END]

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Pub: 22 Feb 2025 19:22 UTC

Views: 1124