4.14

August was glad they’d made the [A-Frame Hut] as large as they had. Rittan entered first, leaving the [Bamboo Spear] by the entrance. Three of his six hands held the punctured bodies of [Mitikos], and in his fourth hand, the chopped off the top of the thick log he’d been using as a cutting board hung loosely.

August’s seat by the fire left him a foot or two away from being underneath the guy, so he was forced to sit back into the corner as Rittan stepped inside. The man’s cock hung at direct eye level as he passed, and August glanced away, reconsidering his choice of seating.

“Thank you, August,” Rittan said, moving to the back where he’d slept the night before. “We managed to capture several this time.”

Rittan placed the crosssection of wood on the ground before placing the three bodies down on top of it.

“I can see that,” August said, “Fire’s ready; pretty sure we have enough firewood saved up for the night as well.”

“Where is the firewood?” Kalter said, voice even. “It’s best to keep it undercover, lest it rains.”

August glanced up at her voice as Kalter stepped partially through the doorway. Kalter’s hesitation to enter left him staring straight up at her naked chest—he tore his gaze away, catching sight of her face as she stared down at him. August turned his head down to stare resolutely into the fire, draping an arm across his lap in the process—this sharing a shelter thing was getting dangerous.

“It’s another part of this,” August managed, indicating the strange system he’d been afflicted with. “I can store and retrieve things from a pocket dimension—it’s called an [Inventory].”

August held his hand out before taking out a Sadapple; the fruit appeared on his palm without transition. Kalter made a noise of interest at the trick—no doubt considering how many Gaian’s she could kill and then stash away inside of it.

“The firewood is inside,” Kalter said, reaching out and taking the apple from him. “I see.”

Kalter sniffed the apple for a moment, sending a questioning glance to Rittan before taking a bite out of it. August was sad that he didn’t catch the look of disgust on her face, but he wasn’t taking the risk of looking back up. The longer she stood in the entryway, the more hyperaware August became of her proximity, and he found himself silently urging her to move the fuck on.

“I left my knife outside,” Rittan sighed, “August?”

“Here,” August mumbled, handing his [Flint Knife] over.

In an effort to distract himself, August took his [Flint Chisel] and began filing away the end of a stick. The food skewers they’d made for the previous catch were more of a single-use item, and there was some hygiene concern with reusing anything that was interacting with raw meat and then going near their mouths.

“This is a structural design I’ve never seen before,” Kalter said, studying to ceiling. “Even ignoring the materials used—this was included inside of a blueprint?”

August hadn’t exactly explained much about the blueprints, but Rittan had clearly said something to her about them. However, the way she said the word was like they were a physical object and not some intrusive alien knowledge packaged together.

“They’re called blueprints, but it’s more like I’ve been injected with a package of false memories,” August said, keeping his eyes down. “There’s some for how to make the overall structure, some for the individual parts, some for the tools needed to make those, and even some blurry edge flashes of how the tools are put together—like a web of interconnected nodes, each one containing a small bit of knowledge and some that even overlap.”

“They’ve been inside your head,” Kalter said, voice sharpening a shade.

“That was pretty clear from day one; humans don’t see floating words,” August said, shaking his head. “That’s a pretty big clue that something had been done to me—I doubt it’s just my head either, given how fast I can heal now.”

Kalter fell silent, either at his easy admittance that ‘they’ had messed with his head or the reminder that she’d almost killed him six hours ago.

“Kalter, please stop looming over August,” Rittan said, looking up from his task of butchering the [Mitikos]. “It’s rather rude.”

“I wasn’t looming,” Kalter muttered, finally stepping forward into the room. “The entrance is just small.”

Kalter selected a spot between them and sat down by the fire, legs curled up beside her and with her back to one of the uprights of the outer wall. The room probably had enough space left for one more occupant, but it would make sleeping an even more uncomfortable ordeal if any of them liked to spread out.

August finished the first skewer and then held it out in Rittan’s direction. He kept his eyes on the fire to avoid having to look over at either of them and chance seeing something else—he wanted to avoid any and all awkward situations if he could manage it. Kalter took it from him before passing it on to Rittan, and he returned to making the next one.

“This island,” August said, taking the first of the meat skewers from Kalter and holding it over the fire. “Is it possible that the Gaians haven’t found it yet? How much of this world have they explored?”

August saw Kalter turn to look at him from the corner of his eyes, he held the second finished skewer towards her, and she took it again, handing it off to Rittan.

“All of it,” Kalter said, voice low. “Only the depths of the ocean are still unknown.”

A lot like Earth then, where only the ocean remained really out of reach, but even that wouldn’t be true for long. Every achievement and advancement built upon one another, and as a result, more of the humanities environment became open to them. They’d reached for the moon and even now were searching further outwards, to the stars.

August doubted Gaia was behind them in that regard, given what he’d heard.

“So this place should have been on the maps then,” August said, watching the white meat slowly darken. “Does that mean it’s some kind of black site?”

“What is a black site?” Kalter frowned.

“I’ve never heard of it either,” Rittan said, handing Kalter a meat skewer of her own.

Kalter passed it along with a word, and August took it, resigning himself to being the cook for the night.

“It’s just a name for a place the government keeps hidden from the public,” August said, “Usually a jail where they keep prisoners that ‘don’t exist’—if you get my meaning. It would explain why neither of you has heard of it at least.”

“I see,” Rittan said, using the last of the meat to fill the final skewer.

“It’s possible that such a place existed,” Kalter said, frowning. “But it’s unlikely they would move important political prisoners away from Hekaton and its defences. The likelihood of being attacked during transport is too high.”

“Attacked by who?” August wondered.