Gus walked to the edge of the ridge and faced the beach, standing on a flat smooth section under the shade of the tree. The view was spectacular from here. He took a moment to appreciate the peaceful pale green waves rolling into the beach. His gaze drifted and the beach was empty, save for some driftwood. Are there clams on an ocean beach? Should I dig for some of those?
Truth be told, he was not a fan of shellfish but he was expecting the unexpected when it came to feeding himself. What else? He had nothing to fish with, and no bait. Bugs. There had to be bugs, but he didn’t know how he could catch some with the suit. Am I hungry enough to eat bugs? Not yet, but would it matter if it was enough to complete the quest?
He could hear birds, so maybe there were some eggs somewhere. Gus needed something with a low flee factor thanks to his suit, so he opted to try clams and eggs first. Maybe he would get lucky and find some fruit, but he’d heard that you should never eat plants, especially berries, without consulting a guide.
I only need two more things to get this suit off though, so nothing says I have to actually eat the three things I get, right?
He looked at his display and, sure enough, saw that the third requirement had changed to ‘Find 2 sources of food.’ Satisfied he had found a base of operations for his camp, he returned to the beach to search for more food.
Slipping down the incline to the beach again, Gus went to where the waves were washing over the sand, keeping it wet with a satiny sheen. Gus looked for the little air holes clams were supposed to create. Gus watched to see if any air bubbles came from the hole but could not tell if it was just a hole or a clam.
He kept walking and saw a raised bump surrounding a little hole in the sand. Encouraged, Gus tried using the driftwood staff to dig. Finding it ineffective, he knelt and dug like a dog for a bone. The waves came in and filled the hole with some water, but it was absorbed into the sand fast enough to not be overly frustrating.
In fact, it probably softened the sand and made it stick together so it was easier to pry up and out of the hole. After digging a bit more than two feet, Gus was about to give up when he hit something hard. Prying at it he was able to remove a wide clam the size of a deck of cards. Victory!
He jumped up and danced a little jig, wiggling the clam in his hands. Gus wanted to collect more, but realized after a quick pat down that he had neither pockets nor any way to store any other clams he might find. Part of him was worried a bird would snatch it away if he left it and went hunting for more. Better to finish his quest and get out of the suit. He would have more options later.
Gus began to think about what else he would need. Firewood, some shelter, and water. He was becoming thirstier and his efforts only added to his feeling of dehydration. Considering he would have to cook, Gus decided to gather some of the driftwood scattered along the beach. He challenged himself to grab as much of it as he could find. The exertion was somehow oddly satisfying.
Is this enough to level strength? How does exercise compare to leveling? When he had played games, he typically only raised stats when he leveled up. He would have to see. He headed back to the shelter after amassing a sizable arm load. Carefully, he put his prize clam under the pile to protect it from scavengers. That would be enough wood for now. He could always get more later, if he needed it. Gus headed back to the beach to see if he could find something else for food.
He glanced at his interface. The green bar had dropped to only a quarter remaining while he was gathering wood. Better to cool it for a bit while things recharged. He didn’t feel winded or exhausted as he would have expected with that much exertion.
As he stood on the beach, a gust of wind pelted the visor with sand and he could hear the tiny ticks of grit as it hit the polymer material. Sand getting everywhere was one of the main reasons Gus wasn’t crazy about beaches. The more he worked to complete the quest to remove the suit, the more he realized how helpful it was, and he was becoming more loath to lose its advantages.
“Isn’t that ironic?” Gus began thinking. “Or is it one of those things that people call ironic, but it really isn’t?” He was no tongue-clucking grammarian, so he focused again on the task at hand.
“If you want me to—” Nick offered helpfully before he was cut off.
“No, thanks, my father was a grammar Nazi and would explain them ad nauseam. You would explain it and I would forget by the time I actually had to use the information. My brain just likes to think about goofy things a fair amount of the time.”
“As you wish.” Nick again reverted to silence.
Gus felt like he was losing it a little. Talking to himself, and over-analyzing things with little importance. Was this a side-effect of the nanobots or was there some brain damage they couldn’t repair? Everything was so new it would probably take time to sort out the changes. Best not to get too far down the rabbit-hole until he had a better grasp of the situation. He had always been a private person, valuing his alone time, but would the isolation get to him? Was it already getting to him? He shook his head and got back to work to distract himself.
He thought
