Years have gone by since the Great War.
Many years.
Even though few remember how long it has been, the remnants of a time long gone still remind us that once, long ago, the world had been a nicer place.But the world we know now… is not a nice place. Such a shame. I have lived a long life, and I have learned to adapt to the new world, but just as the Contamination eats away at technology and the lives of those who come into contact with it, time eats away at me.
It is such a shame, there is so little of it left for me. But the plans are in motion—immortality might be in my grasp.
I am… well, it seems some details are starting to slip my mind. I am Quaesitor, and yet again I am wrong, but not entirely. I was Quaesitor.I traveled from the great city of Terracina to the quaint outpost of Kodal to learn. A lifetime of learning, of trying to protect what the Supervivo have protected so long—
the ancient knowledge and ancient arts.
Microelectronics.
Quantum physics.
The like.
We, the Survivors, the Triumphant, the Conquerors, forced to huddle in what were mere shelters for a storm that has not subsided over the centuries — it is such a shame.
Marvels of modern technology have kept me from dying these past years since I retired, but no army of high-tech mechs, no experimental biotech treatment seems to be able to extend my mind.
I have forgotten so much.
Such a shame.
Of course, we are not the only ones who survived.
Beasts stalk the lands — ferocious beasts, Megafauna, sly, intelligent and hungry creatures. In some cases literally. But even humanoids, a pale imitation of real humans, the descendants of vile mutants, military personnel enhancement projects, the failed attempts of foolish hope, are vile mutants and savages themselves. Such a shame.
They raid caravans, keep to their disjointed barbaric cultures, forever cursed to harbor the very Contamination killing their chances of ever knowing the pleasures of technology.
And it seems they have adapted to the Contamination, so it does not even kill them as much these days.
Such a shame.
Alacast can purify them just like anyone or anything else — it changes the Contamination back to more normal dangers, but dangers that can be dealt with by proper humans. Tribals can live without the Contamination, if ever someone would invest in cleaning a savage up that much—they likely still cannot contribute.
Such a shame.
I have tried, yet they remained uncooperative, another sign of their inferiority. Some babble about cages and insults, barely comprehensible ramblings in their animalistic mockery of speech. They do not usually last long once they have gone through decon.
Such a shame.
Especially those infuriating individuals who seem to have allied with the Contamination trying to kill us all, wielding its Zones Of Normalcy Exclusion like weapons.
Such a shame.
Wide ZONEs of heightened gravity or brittleness, oxygen-free ZONEs or pure oxidation. Such a shame that they have to appear at all, even if caused by natural sources. Savages funneling Contamination into a ZONE until even the best seal breaks down and the Pilots are eaten alive…
Such a shame.
Transcript of the only Conversation the oldest Document in the Great Library of Kodal - a severely damaged
upload of the Brain of an ancient Scientist - will have.