Deadman

Book 2 Chapter 46: No Puns

Book 2 Chapter 46: No Puns

I was covered in blood. The screaming had stopped, and the taste of human and deadman flesh sat in my mouth, the memory of one and the actuality of the other blending as the red faded from my vision. I felt my heart rate speed up again as I breathed in more of the fog, and for a moment I felt my sanity start to slip again as whatever tether I had on reality started to slowly tear. I heard a door open, and the light of the sun hit my back. I turned around to see a figure, wearing a black robe, her red eyes were squinted in worry as she saw me. I saw no terror in her face as she looked at me, only concern.

Are you okay? she asked, reaching out a hand.

My sanity snapped back into place, and I was able to, for the first time since Id started to hallucinate, clearly make out my surroundings. There were roughly ten deadman corpses around me. Some with limbs torn off, others chunks of their throats ripped out, and some even seemed to have burn marks, though I was certain I hadnt had the presence of mind to draw my lasgun. I searched for my weapons, and found my pistol, the smell of gunpowder leading me to it, and my sword was driven through one of the ferals hearts. My pack had torn a strap, but everything was still inside it, so I slung it over my shoulder.

I started running. Making a beeline for the bunker coordinates. Id gotten turned around, but was able to quickly orient myself. Direction and place had always been the one area Id excelled, and Id only gotten better with practice. Just as the whispers started up again, I found a rocky outcropping, with a cave. I made my way inside quickly, and within was a massive bunker door, larger than any other Id seen, with no discernable way to push open. I saw a console next to it, and below, the skeletal remains of someone wearing a white coat. The console had some kind of slot in it, so I searched the remains for a key, and was gratified to find a kind of plastic keycard in a coat pocket. I slotted it inside, and heard a kind of hum begin as I did so. Lights came on in the cave, burning my retinas and causing me to wince. The bunker doors began to slide open, revealing a massive set of stairs heading downward and some kind of security checkpoint. I made my way inside, and found the twin to the entry console that had met me on the outside, hitting buttons until the doors began to slide their way closed again. I heard whispers building in the back of my mind as it closed and stood still or a few moments after theyd shut completely. I took deep breaths of what my nose told me was filtered air until they faded.

I collapsed, sitting on the stairs with my head in my hands and my eyes closed. I kept my focus on my breathing, and eventually, was able to bring myself back to my feet. The fog had been more dangerous than Id suspected, and the memory of the visions still filled my senses, but Id dealt with it the same way I always had. I stood up and started putting one foot in front of the other, making my way down the stairs and into the bunker. The layout was familiar, with the security station at the entrance, the habitation zones deeper in, and the labs behind that, but everything was scaled up larger than any of the previous ones Id been inside. I went through the hab zones first, finding clothing, a few dozen corpses and some long expired food, but nothing of interest. Once that was through, I made my way into the lab. Above the entrance was the label, The Rebuild America System. I was in the right place, now I just had to figure out what to do. I made my way into the first suite of computers, there were around seven, with one at the far wall along with a desk that was clearly meant to monitor the others. On a whiteboard was a list of what I recognized as skills, at the top was one Id never seen before, Animal Husbandry. Along with a list of bullets below it, some of which were crossed out with notes below them, and one of which was circled.

Animal Husbandry

• Good job getting those pigs to get frisky! (Very funny Jim, No)
• Like the great ranchers of the American West, you know how to grow your herd and feed the great people of the US of A! (Perfect Patty, Well send this into programming right away)
• You always steer your animals in the right direction! (No Puns Andy, weve been over this)

I walked up to the computer at the head and booted it up. It was the same layout that Id seen when Id been in the ReVolutionary Virus bunker. Personal Journal, Project Journal, and Correspondence. I clicked on project journal and started skimming entries.

Entry 1

Great start on the project so far. Weve already knocked out around a hundred of the descriptions and notifications in the first few days, and the whole team has been just crackerjack as we zip through them. We got a bit of pushback when we tried to send them all at once since the system isnt even through its first stages of development, but theres always bound to be some headbutting when creatives and engineers work together. Well schedule a regular update and try to be more aware of the limitations on their end.

I skimmed a few more.

Entry 14

The project has slowed. We flew through the early phases and jobs, but things just get more and more difficult. How are people supposed to tie the idea of waitress to historical America in a way that promotes loyalty? Were getting through it, but its like when the railroad was being built. The initial phases were easy to work with flat land, but eventually you hit rocky hellscape that can only be broken up with dynamite. Damn, thats pretty good. Im going to have to put that on the board.

I read a few more, but there wasnt much of interest, and they cut off abruptly toward the end. I clicked over to correspondence.

To: Robert Paulson

From: Michael Herndon

List of newly approved notifications and descriptions

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in explosives! Without dynamite the US would never have been able to beat back the savage american West and build the railroads that criss-cross this great nation!

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in Construction! The White House, The Empire State Building, The Golden Gate Bridge, The Franklin Peace Monument, these represent not only our country's great past, but also its ability to build bigger, and better than any other nation!

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in Paperwork! The Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, The W-2, America is built on organization and proper filing!

Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in Sewing! From Betsy Ross crafting the flag of our nation to our medics in WWII patching up our boys as they fought, a needle and thread can be all that stands between having a nation, or losing one!

After that was about fifty more, but I decided Id read enough for one lifetime. I would likely be seeing the ones I was more used to over and over for the rest of my life. I figured that was more than enough. I clicked on the personal journal.

Entry 1

Patty, the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were everything Id ever-

I stopped reading and pushed away from the computer. This was clearly not the information I was looking for, or the way to activate the parts of the system that were inactive. I got up and started to walk further down the hall. I saw a label on the hallway door, one marked R.A.S. Science Staff, pointing to the right, and the other labeled Citizen Registry, to the left. I went right, and walked down a short hallway until I found another suite filled with dozens of computers. I noticed there was another door further down, but it was unmarked and my target was the R.A.S. so thats what I went into first. I saw a row of offices at the far end, and up some stairs, hanging from the ceiling, was a final large office that was able to look down on all the rest labeled David White, in big black letters. I made my way straight back to that office, not bothering with the others, though I did note an office labeled project security, to possibly dip into later to loot for supplies. I walked up the stairs and opened the door, where my eyes were assaulted by aggressive red white and blue, all across the room. The carpet was an American flag, one hung behind the desk at the end of the room, there were documents in glass cases hung on the walls, and a small bald eagle bobble head on the corner of the desk. I walked over and sat in the chair, absently flicking the bobble head as I did so, and booted up the computer.