The constant ache of hunger, which he'd forgotten during his practice, came back strong. Eliot leaned against a cold metal beam, sweat running down his face despite the warehouse's chill. His energy was only at 15%, a clear sign of his limits. Lifting bricks had been tiring, but it had made his mind-moving power a little better and, more importantly, made him feel a bit more in control. He wasn't completely helpless.
But staying alive needed more than just moving still objects. It needed food, supplies, and most of all, information. The System's annoying "DATA ACCESS BLOCKED" message echoed in his mind. He needed to connect more with it, but how?
He closed his eyes, thinking about the little information he had: "Making Resources Best and Controlled," "Connecting Compatible Hosts," and the chilling "Stopping Unregistered Host." If he was an "unregistered mistake," then maybe his very existence messed up their "optimization." The idea of being a digital bug, a system error to be fixed, was both scary and strangely empowering. If he was a problem, he had some power.
His eyes fell on his worn, almost empty backpack. He had a few crumpled bills, definitely not enough for a good meal, and his phone, dead and useless. The world outside felt huge and uncaring, yet he was now part of a hidden war. He needed to go back into it, but carefully.
He pushed himself up, his muscles aching. "Okay, System," he mumbled, "what else can you tell me about 'Getting Information' without being so vague?"
The see-through screen shimmered.
RECOMMENDATIONS:
* Focus on Escaping and Getting Information.
* Create ways to fight back.
That was it. Not helpful. He sighed. "Show me a map of the area," he commanded, more out of desperation than actual hope.
To his surprise, a faint, see-through map appeared, showing his immediate surroundings over his vision. It was blurry, not very detailed, but he could see street lines, vague building shapes, and a bright red dot blinking on and off a few blocks away.
ANOMALY DETECTED:
* Minor Energy Signature.
* Fluctuating.
* Unclassified.
Eliot's heart pounded. "Anomaly? What kind of anomaly?"
DATA NOT ENOUGH. SUGGEST APPROACHING CAREFULLY. POSSIBILITIES: UNREGISTERED HOST, SYSTEM DEBRIS, ENVIRONMENTAL INTERFERENCE.
Unregistered host. The words hit him. Could it be another person like him? Or something completely different? His mind raced. Hunter-Alpha was out there, able to "Steal Data." If he went outside, he was exposed. But staying in this warehouse, waiting to be found, felt like a slow death.
He looked at the red dot again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, like a flicker in the corner of his eye. If it were another host, maybe they knew more. Maybe they were struggling just like him. Or maybe it was a trap.
The fear was strong, a cold claw in his chest. But underneath it, that growing purpose, the spark that had started during his mind-moving practice, flickered brighter. He couldn't hide forever. He had to take a risk. He had to find information, even if it meant going into the unknown.
He slung his worn backpack over his shoulder. The sun was setting, painting the high warehouse windows in orange and purple. Twilight was coming, offering the cover of darkness. He would need it.
Taking a deep breath, Eliot pushed aside the heavy metal door. Its creak echoed strangely in the sudden quiet. The street outside was empty, the hum of the city a distant rumble. He looked cautiously left and right, his senses sharper, his small mind-moving power a weak shield. He was stepping out of his temporary safe place, into a world far more dangerous than he had ever imagined. His only guide was a vague, blinking red dot on a see-through map, leading him towards an unknown anomaly, a possible friend, or a deadly trap. The echoes of his purpose resonated with every careful step. He was hunting for answers, and perhaps, for a connection.