As soon as I lie down, sleep comes, and when I wake up, it's so very strange. I don't think I've ever woken up smiling before. Even better, some of the traps I laid out earlier this week have caught a few animals, including a pig. That's right. Bacon. I haven't had that with breakfast since I bartered for a meal about two years ago.
The bacon sizzles over the fire, and I indulge more than I probably should, but I’m running low on salt, and my mini fridge only has so much room. I don’t have a lot of electricity here, so I have to make do the best I can. That’s basically the case for anything and everything. Just survive. Live another day.
I want to do more than just survive, though, and if I can just get my hands on a plasma morpher, I’ll be in real business.
After I hack up the rest of the pig and shove as much of the meat as I can into the fridge and then salt the rest, I start to take inventory of my bits and pieces. What do I have that I can use to barter for a plasma morpher?
Nothing. That’s what. And I don’t think that whoever has one will be willing to let me fiddle and upgrade or fix their machines as payment, not unless I’m willing to be their slave for seven years.
Not going to happen.
Honestly, at the moment, I don’t have much of anything I’m willing to part with. I’ve become fairly self-sufficient, but that doesn’t mean that I have the means to do everything I want, and I also lack the chance to live as ordinary people do. A nine to five job isn’t for me, and that’s not just because I haven’t had a traditional education. I can read and write just fine. I used to hang out at one of the local schools and stand outside. A girl noticed me and would leave the window cracked so I could hear. She even gave me a few of her old books once the school years were over. Lily had been her name. I don’t know whatever happened to her, but I learned a great deal because of her through her teachers, but I never had the chance to ask any of the teachers questions, and I had so many questions. I wanted to know how things worked, not just accept that this was what happened. That wasn’t good enough for me.
I didn’t have a home address, so I couldn’t have a library card. The librarians would let me read the books inside the building. I just couldn’t take them home, obviously, since I didn’t really have a home. But then I started to ask the librarians the countless questions I had, and they told me to hush. Then again, they told everyone that, so I didn’t feel singled out, but it did make me stop asking my questions aloud.
It made me become self-sufficient. I either would find the answers in books, or else I would physically replicate whatever process I had questions about so I could try to figure out the how by myself. It's what started me on the path of inventing. The tinkering started long before that, though, born out of necessity.
Maybe it's time for me to head to the scrap yard. There might be something I can find there that I can tinker or fix so I can barter. Even if I can't barter directly for the plasma morpher and have to work my way up by getting bigger and better things to one day gain it…
Footsteps sound, and I glance over, standing from having just sat down, a bit weary from all of the walking last night combined with shifting going through all of my stuff. I don’t have a lot, yes, but some of the larger objects are quite heavy.
Rix approaches, and the first thing I notice is his huge smile. The second thing I notice is that he has a hand behind his back.
Wary, I reach for Nightfall, my modified pistol-rifle. For good measure, I also grab a baseball bat.
He chuckles. “You don’t need those, Ava.”
“You don’t need to come any closer.” I lift my chin. “In case you can’t tell, I don’t like stalkers.”
“I’m not stalking you.”
“I don’t like strangers either.”
“I don’t have to be a stranger either.”
I grunt and lower the rifle but tap the bat against my shoulder. "Why are you here?"
“I have a proposition for you.”
“Not interested.”
“I think you’ll want to hear me out, but you’re going to have to put down your weapons first.”
“Why’s that?” I ask suspiciously. “I really don’t feel comfortable with you here.”
"We were together on my ship, and that was much closer, tighter quarters than this," he protests.
Very true, especially when you consider that he’s paused several feet from my camp.
“What’s in your hand?” I ask evenly.
"I'll show you once you put down your weapons."
“Not happening.”
“If I were holding a weapon, would I play games with you or just kill you? And if I wanted to harm you, why didn’t I do it on the ship?”
I open and shut my mouth before putting the bat and the pistol-rifle down. I love the pistol-rifle. It’s been modified by yours truly so that the pistol has the sight and range of a rifle.
Both weapons are well within reach, and I sit down, so my hands are even closer in case I need to grab them, but honestly, this is mostly for show. I don't feel threatened by the blue-skinned man. I just don't care for the fact that he keeps showing up at my place unwanted and uninvited.
Not that I ever invite anyone here. Not ever.
I lift my chin. “Well?”
He brings his hand into view slowly, ever so slowly, and I gasp.
A plasma morpher.
I gasp. “You got one,” I say, standing and taking all of two steps toward him
