DISCOVERY PART 1B

Day 18; 1433 (Afternoon)

Focus: 513

*SIZZLE* *SIZZLE* *SIZZLE*

The familiar, comforting sound of food sizzling over a fire called-out to 513 like a temptress. It was a powerful noise that elicited memories of freshly cooked dinners around a large table amongst familiar faces. Just the thought caused his stomach to growl in complaint, even though he had just eaten his fill of cooked meat only minutes ago.

*SIZZLE* *SIZZLE* *SIZZLE*

His mouth watered as the sizzling continued in the background.

Against his will, his mind had conjured-up images of himself eating savory, tender cuts of slow-cooked meat while donning a pitiable face of utter joy.

Unable to bear the temptation any longer, he forcibly altered his inspection route and made his way towards the source of the noise.

As he walked, the shame he felt for deviating away from his original plans melted away as the focus of his attention honed-in on whetting his appetite.

*SIZZLE* *SIZZLE* *SIZZLE*

Strangely, his pace quickened.

The conjured images inside his head had become bizarre and twisted, turning simple pleasures into distorted projections of reality. It was almost as-if the sound itself had started to warp his imagination into a horror show.

The crackling and the hissing. It droned inside his head like a hive of angry bees. It grated on his patience to the point that his attention no longer focused on satiating his hunger, but ridding himself of the noise -- both for silence and mental clarity.

Upon reaching his destination, the fragrant aroma of meat cooking over a fire somehow snapped his mind out from a level of insanity that he was not quite ready for.

513: “What the fuck…”

He uttered in exasperation.

513: “What is happening to me?”

Confusion. It was the new “normal” for 513 as he tried to piece together a jigsaw puzzle of broken mysteries about himself.

Was his mind simply overactive? Was his hearing hypersensitive? Or was he hallucinating from unknown toxins in the meat he had just consumed? Perhaps he was being manipulated by some external force he could not sense?

The truth was, he did not know.

After recovering from his minor panic, he lifted his gaze from off the ground and stared at the structure in-front of him. It was something he had constructed out of wood, bones, and processed hides in order to encapsulate the food cooking inside. It looked similar to a yurt or an octagonal tent with a conical roof, about four meters in diameter and in height.

The continuous stream of smoke spewing out from it, wafted the scent of delicious, cooked food into the cold air -- a dangerous situation, if not for the remote location and lack of other life in the area.

*SIZZLE* *SIZZLE* *SIZZLE*

The loud sizzling drew his attention back to the food inside the structure.

In his absentmindedness, he hastily opened a flap from one of the structure's eight sides, causing a sudden rush of warm, greasy air to burst out from inside the enclosure. [Agh. Damnit.] He cursed at himself, acknowledging his foolishness.

While relenting over his recent actions, he wiped away a thin layer of grease that had caked over his face with his hands, and proceeded to properly inspect the exterior of the structure.

His face felt uncomfortable from the residual grease, like someone had slathered caramel all over it, but it couldn’t be helped. The disinfecting moss that lathered-up like soap was nowhere near his location, so he had to wait until after his inspection to perform a proper cleaning.

513: “Outside-In.”

He grumbled, reminding himself to always check the structure’s external features first, before anything else.

Once his visual inspection of the structure’s exterior concluded, he turned his attention to the interior.

Grabbing the lower-end of the same flap he had opened earlier, he slowly rolled it up, allowing the built-up pressure from inside the structure to release gradually. He had designed the enclosure with overlapping flaps of animal hide so that it would self-seal when enough steam and smoke had built-up from the cooking process. It wasn’t a true seal, considering that steam and smoke still escaped from many overlooked places, but it was enough to create a significant pressure differential inside the structure.

After enough time had passed, he peered inside the structure. There he inspected row-upon-row of smoke racks made-out of bones and lashed together with leather straps. The racks were packed inside a shallow circular pit one-meter deep and three-meters in diameter; it was the pit he had dug on his first day inside the dead zone.

Each smoke rack was filled with freshly butchered meat -- in the form of cuts and fillets -- all coming from scores of animal carcasses he had scavenged on expeditionary trips around his camp.

Miraculously, the majority of the carcasses had not undergone any form of spoiling or decay; they were still in serviceable condition by the time he had a chance to process them. This could be due to the frigid weather or lack of insects in the area. Either way, it was good news for 513.

*SIZZLE* *SIZZLE* *SIZZLE*

The sputtering continued as steam and smoke rose from the cherry colored coals located just beneath the smoke racks. Fats from the racked meat slowly rendered-out, causing occasional flare-ups that illuminated the dark interior of the structure.

At first glance, the setup was a fire-hazard just waiting to ignite -- it was an enclosed room filled with highly combustible components. However, the conditions that 513 created inside the enclosure negated such worries.

The coals sat overtop a floor of water-soaked wood and compacted clay and soil; the water-soaked wood provided the smoke necessary for the cooking process and the compacted floor of clay and soil prevented the underground root structure from catching fire.

Air-flow inside the enclosure was minimized and controlled, such that there was just enough new air going into the structure to keep the coals burning, but not enough to spark a flame. The flare-ups that he saw was a result of free-flowing air entering the pit from the opening he had made.

The positive pressure environment created within the enclosure -- due to the structure’s self-sealing function -- vented-out excess smoke and reduced the temperatures of combustible gases inside the enclosure, reducing the chance of ignition while maintaining sustained temperatures for the smoking process.

Taking all these measures into consideration, the likelihood of a fire was minimal to non-existent. But that did not mean he didn’t practice caution. He still soaked the hides and flaps of the structure with water every hour, preventing them from drying-out and becoming another flammable item.

As for the coals, they were spread out in an organized fashion to provide the low temperature, residual heat needed to tenderize and slow cook the meat, while simultaneously increasing the food’s edible shelf-life using the smoke produced from rendered fats and water-soaked wood.

The only foreseeable downside to 513’s slow-cook-smoking method, was the time investment needed to properly cook and preserve food. Fortunately, he was willing to invest in such a process, considering it didn’t require much active tampering.

Once the coals were set, they simply burned until they ran out of fuel. From there, the residual heat from whatever was left over would finish the cooking process.

After finishing his inspection of the structure’s interior -- which he decided to name the pit enclosure -- his eyes settled back on to the cherry-red coals still producing the same amount of heat as when they were set ablaze. [Ah, right. Those are crystal core fragments.] He mused to himself, after remembering that the coals in this batch of smoked meat weren’t the normal wood charcoal he used in previous batches.

513: “This batch might actually finish before dark.”

He commented, with a content smile appearing on his face.

During the cold nights, he would experiment with many different objects that he had collected during his adventures inside the dead zone. Items like the obsidian-colored bones, which he had started calling blood bones for their unique quality, or the jewel-like stones he found inside many of the carcasses, which he collectively called jewelstones -- his naming sense was to-the-point, short and simple.

On one of these nights, he found a great use for the crystal cores which made-up the central pith of gigantic trees that once dominated the landscape inside the dead zone.

After putting a small chunk of crystal core, the size of his fist, to a flame, he discovered that it was capable of holding a fire without undergoing changes to its physical structure, unlike how wood chars as it burns.

What was more intriguing was the fact that, after snuffing out the flame, the chunk of crystal core continued to retain its original shape and general appearance -- with the exception of glowing cherry-red. Imagine using a diamond as a fuel source for a fire -- that was what the crystal core was like.

The crystal core only returned to its normal state -- non-glowing -- after being submerged in a jug of cold water. Again, without losing any visible changes to its size or structure.

This brings us to 513’s current situation. He was testing the crystal core’s viability in becoming an efficient alternative to wood or charcoal.

By using it as a fuel source for cooking meat, he could perform the viability test while cooking food simultaneously.

513: “Let’s hope I don’t fuck this up.”

He mumbled to himself, feeling cynical.

With the thermal output of the crystal cores, he only needed a total of nine, the size of his fist, arranged in a square-grid pattern in order to achieve the temperatures necessary to slow-cook-smoke the butchered meat. It was incredibly efficient and would allow him to utilize wood that would otherwise be used in the cooking process for other functions, like construction.

Having nothing else to inspect inside the pit enclosure, he exited the structure and returned to his original inspection route.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Day 18; 1457 (Afternoon)

Focus: 513

While walking the perimeter of his camp, 513 noticed something off-putting about his surroundings. All his five senses were working perfectly fine, but for some reason he felt anxious and afraid. [Something’s coming.] He mumbled to himself.

*GIGGLING*

The haunting sound of children’s laughter caused 513 to stop in his tracks. The unsettling snickering reverberating throughout the empty landscape, making the back of his head tingle with uncertainty and fear.

513: “Where are you, damnit.”

He cursed under his breath while his eyes darted around in search for the culprit.

The hairs on his forearms stood-on-end as the tingling sensation he felt earlier spread to his shoulders and upper back, keeping him on edge. If things continued, there was a good chance he would become paralyzed by fear.

513: “Shit, inhale...exhale…”

He scrambled to keep his body calm by controlling his breathing; the sudden spike of adrenaline rushing through his body could cause his muscles to seize if he did not prepare.

*WOOOSH* *CLUD* *CLUD* *CLUD*

A strong gust of wind plowed through several bone chimes he had strategically placed around the camp, causing them to vigorously clatter.

The chilling sounds they produced made him second-guess their effectiveness as an early warning system, but given his current situation, he dismissed the thought entirely.

Finding resolve, he dashed towards a cache of weapons created from sharpened bone and wood just a few meters away. [Go, go, go, go, go!] He screamed internally, motivating himself to keep moving.

However, his body felt bogged down by fear. Everything he did felt like it was in slow motion, as-if running underwater. [Keep going.] He commanded himself, ignoring his nerves.

Once he reached the cache, he grabbed a spear tipped with a sharpened piece of blood bone for a weapon, and a large bone-framed leather shield for protection. After equipping the two items, he immediately took-up a defensive stance, and waited.

*WOOOSH* *CLUD* *CLUD* *CLUD*

Another strong gust caused the bone chimes to stir yet again, but nothing appeared.

Still, he waited in anticipation.

The conviction to hold his ground was strong. He had nowhere to hide or run-to -- in short, it was his only option.

*WOOOSH* *CLUD* *CLUD* *CLUD*

Again, another strong gust.

This time, he eyed another cache of items he had been preparing for such an occasion.

The unfinished set of segmented leather armor pieces he had been working on the last few days, seemed too far out of reach to make use-of. It made him wonder why he kept them separate from the weapons cache, but that mattered little now; sometimes profound clarity is achieved in times of duress.

513: “Probably not a good idea anyway.”

He mumbled, after considering the time it would take to equip the armor pieces; he would be completely vulnerable in that moment.

He kept his body on a swivel as the gusts of wind continued to harass him -- it seemed to come from every angle.

With his guard up, he pivoted on the balls of his forward facing foot, while stabilizing his posture with his other. [Whatever it is, it's toying with me.] He thought to himself, while tightly gripping the three-meter long spear with his left hand.

*THUMP*

Not wanting to fatigue his arms, he placed the bottom, flat-end of his shield on the ground and forced his body into the concave hollow of the shield.

The design was a mixture of the Greek hoplon and the Roman scutum. It lacked the bronze plating or solid wooden frame of either shield, but it was the best he could do given his resources.

With his entire body protected by the shield, he waited for the first strike...but it never came.

Eventually, the howling gusts died down, prompting him to poke his head out from the protection of his shield, to survey what was happening around him.

There, in-front of him, stood a magnificent beast, towering above all previous monsters he had encountered before.

It presented itself with no signs of arrival, as-if it had appeared from nothing.

The thought terrified him, considering it could have easily killed him without noticing.

Fear aside, he gazed in awe at the beast. The tips of its fur transitioned between hues of blue and dark silver. It was a stark contrast to the rest of its snowy-white body.

Its tail wagged furiously as it returned a similar gaze back at 513, but he couldn’t tell if it was a sign of play, interest, or intent to kill.

Unsure how to proceed, he lifted his shield off the ground and positioned himself into a more defensive stance. Perhaps it was a foolish endeavor, but he knew by looking at the beast in-front of him, that receiving just one blow would be fatal.

Amused by his actions, the beast lifted one its front paws -- which rivaled the size of 513's shield -- and beckoned him over. [Does that wolf want me to come closer?] He questioned in disbelief.

513: "What do you want of me?!"

He yelled-out, refusing to move from his position.

In response, the wolf began to circle around him in a wide arc. [Looks like it doesn’t want me running-off.] He mumbled in his head, while adjusting his position to face the wolf, head-on.

Wolf: (distorted growls) "Graha-grahagehaga."

The low timbre of the wolf’s growl -- though loud and powerful -- had no hint of malice behind it. 513 wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he decided to trust his instincts and continued his attempts to communicate.

513: “What do...do you wish to communicate?”

Wolf: (foreign language 1) "Yes."

A sudden wash of voices spoke simultaneously inside 513’s mind. It was such a startling experience that he unconsciously stumbled backwards in response.

The wolf, still circling around him, simply stared at 513 as he frantically searched the area for another potential enemy.

He hadn’t realized it was the wolf that was speaking to him.

Wolf: (foreign language 2) "Calm yourself."

Again, the voices spoke inside his mind, this time sounding different from the last. [What is this?] He questioned, bewildered by what was happening.

The wolf, seeing that 513 still had not figured out what was going on, stopped its pacing and laid down.

Wolf: (foreign language 3) "How amusing."

The wolf bellowed out, almost chuckling.

513 had been too preoccupied by the voices inside his head to notice the wolf’s recent actions, but eventually he caught-on. [Could it be?]

513: "You spoke inside my head...how?"

He asked the wolf, determined to get an answer.

The wolf grinned, showcasing its sharp teeth, each larger than 513’s leg. But it remained silent, taunting him by feigning ignorance.

*THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP*

While leisurely delaying a proper response, it swayed its large tail back and forth, causing small quakes to occur whenever it thumped the ground.

Finally, with its amusement waning, it responded to 513’s inquiry.

Wolf: (foreign language 4) "Average."

Instead of giving a direct answer to his question, the wolf replied with its evaluation of him. Of course, it playfully spoke in a language he could not understand. However, the response alone was enough for him to prove the voices inside his head were the wolf’s doing.

Still uncertain with the wolf’s intent, he tightly gripped his spear and spread his legs apart, lowering his center of gravity in preparation for defending himself in case of an attack. [It’s the thought that counts.] He joked, knowing one swipe from the wolf’s paw would easily destroy his defenses.

513: "What do you want of me?"

He repeated his initial question.

The wolf's grin faded as it grew frustrated by 513’s inability to understand its words.

Wolf: (foreign language 5) "Inadequate. Below average. Failure."

The wolf muttered in quick succession as it’s wagging tail stopped moving.

Sensing the mood change, 513 readied himself for combat. He was convinced his attempt at diplomacy had failed.

Wolf: (English) "Slow."

Having grown tired of playing games, the wolf criticized him once more -- this time in a language it knew he could understand.

In turn, 513 responded with a mixture of confusion, irritation, sarcasm, and slight agreement.

513: "...so you say."

---Chapter End