《Terror Infinity》Vol 23 Chapter 17-1: Incomplete Instrumentality(I)
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Adam...
What was his childhood like?
Standing in a prison, watching the outside from behind metal fences as men dressed in white looked at him with terrified yet expectant gazes...
Anesthetized and placed on the operating table. His body cut open for instruments to be stuck inside or parts of his organs to be taken out...
Countless books were forcefully instilled in his brain. Not learning it within the stipulated time would reward him with an electric shock. He felt like he was rather similar to those chimpanzees being trained to eat bananas in the data. They were locked up, researched, then electrocuted...
Kill these people? Nonono, kill all people, as long as they were...
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Decompose!
Dear diary. When you read stories about some people missing and returning after years of absence claiming they were living in another world, your first reaction is to scoff and dismiss a story as a tall tale, right? I know I did. All the time. Until it happened to me and I no longer did. That day was today. Some god of thunder smote me. If it were Chris Hemsworth, I wouldn't mind but it was some barbaric Hitite god that abaondned Earth some four millennia ago. Yes, what can I say? I love the seventh art. I have more hours watching movies than any other activity, including sleep. What? Do you think I'm exaggerating? Maybe I am. I'll really miss hollywood the most. And my biggest regret is that I never got to visit the holy city of cinema. I did not come to another world to be a hero even though there was hints that they hoped I'd save it. I did not come with overpowered abilities able to, dunno, leap tall castles in a single bound, faster than a speeding crossbow bolt, be more powerful than a eight-horse carriage, the bounds. No. After the asshole god that murdered me brought me to his world, he gave me some boons from his discount bin and "The Power of my Soul (tm)". Forgive my french, I hope you understand I am rather upset at dying. And he somehow decided that my power is to recycle stuff. How awesome is that? Not much at first, I must admit. At least I got all my camping stuff and equipment with me. There's no lycra in the other world. I'll make it someday, but that day is not today. So here I am. In another world, in the middle of nowhere. I'm no heroine. As the song goes, I'm your basic average girl. And I'm assumed to be here to save the world. But almost everything can stop me, because I'm not named Kim. Wish me luck, diary. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This novel is going have the following features: slow-paced slice-of-life No GameLit / LitRPG elements. Movie references. Sandra likes the seventh art. Journal / diary style crafting (includes chemistry, engineering and metallurgy) low magic technological advancement (for Sandra, at least. She is not against sharing though) personal relations clash of perception between the modern and ancient customs. bits of tension, fighting, and plot here and there. I won't repeat myself though. Once she crafts a good batch of soap, for example, she'll just note, "I crafted soap again." Once it is estabilished how she obtains compound X, compound X2 that is obtainable from the same process will also just be mentioned. I'll try to be as realistic as I can with the crafting, chemistry, and technology. Cover: Public Domain Image by StockSnap from Pixabay. No attribution required but we do it anyway.
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