Status Update: 12
Thankfully, the path into this scavenger settlement is short, mostly consisting of a sloping path upwards into the interior of what remains of this nectar harvester. This colony seems a bit smaller than the last one you stayed with, as you count only twelve scavengers in the hollow with you. All twelve of them are observing you curiously, though some are also rustling their spines nervously as they look at you.
The dark grey scavenger is still eyeing your lance, though it's making a show of looking away from it every so often. When it notices you looking at it, it blinks at you hopefully, scratching at the ground again. Clearly it still wants your lance.
You carefully take a seat on the dusty ground, sighing. This bunch seems like they'd be eager to converse with you.
[3 actions left.]
>...It could be funny to see if the scav could even hold the LANCE OF DOOM™️
Well... it is asking for it, after all. You carefully pull your lance out of your weapon harness again, making your actions as slow and predictable as you can manage to. All the scavengers stare at you, their gazes following what you're doing as you switch to grasping the lance with two hands, then gently lower it towards the dark grey scavenger. Its bright amber eyes widen in excitement, and it sits up, grasping towards your lance with both hands while eagerly rustling its spines.
The excitement quickly morphs into confusion, then alarm as the weight of the lance starts to settle into its hands, and it starts visibly straining to lift it, emitting a few chirps of distress. A few of the nearby scavengers pitch in, trying to also hoist it up with little success. You take the lance back before the scavengers either manage to pull the lance out of your hands or cut themselves on the tip. The dark grey scavenger stares at its hands with clear disappointment as you slot the lance back into your weapon harness, and then it looks longingly at your lance, blinking sadly. You stifle a chuckle; if you knew the sign for "sorry," you would use it here.
The black scavenger reaches over and briefly grooms the dark grey scavenger, pulling its gaze away from your lance. It signs something; on the first sign, it points at itself and then the dark grey scavenger—we?—and then tugs the dark grey scavenger away. It leaves with its companion, but not without looking back at your lance one more time.
The energy in the air feels less tense now, with most of the scavengers looking more curious than afraid. A few creep closer to stare up at you, wide eyed and inquisitive. You suppose you've demonstrated that you're not going to use the weapon on them?
[2 actions left.]
>How about we plan our route when we wake up? Or like, try to find some kind of map.
Your route from here is generally east. Most likely you will be heading slightly southeast initially to avoid Five Pebbles’ industrial sector, but once you’re past that, you’ll move northeast towards his can.
You pull up data up of what you know of Five Pebbles and Moon’s facility grounds. You’re currently in Five Pebbles’ farm sector, specifically in the nectar harvesting and processing subsector. Further east would be the processing subsector and then the storage units. You’ll still have to cut through the lower portions of his processing sector and likely part of his waste department, but your priority is really just to avoid climbing as much as you can. The puppets are… really not built for that sort of purpose.
From what you can tell, you’re at the very corner of the nectar subsector. You’ll have to cross the majority of it to get to the processing subector. It’s faster to cut through it, but you’re not sure how bad the wreckage is. Or what even happened to cause it, because again, it should have withstood the rain without issue. Even Five Pebbles’ increased output couldn’t have caused this, surely? You’d have to investigate to find out, but you’re not sure if you’ll find a concrete answer.
While you're at it, you take the time to feed yourself and your neurons, holding the worm grass up to them. The worm grass is starting to wilt a little anyways. (-3 worm grass)
[1 action left.]
>Is there anything we could do to reduce our food consumption per day? I see that we’re running out of food… so we have to either ration or find food the next time we wake up.
Not… really? You could probably have kept more of the worm grass nearby as you were on your way here, honestly, but you didn’t think to do so. If anything, though, the farm sector should have plenty of food for you. You just need to dedicate some more time to looking for it. The other scavengers did trade the strange pupa with you anyhow.
In fact you could probably try to ask them where to find more, considering you still have some of the bug pupae left. You reach into your pockets for one of them aannnn your neuron— (-1 neuron)
You lost something. All of your processes are rewiring themselves, all at once and all at the same time. All the existing data, reconfiguring, thoughts crossing here there and everywhere. Agony; you clutch at your head, just breathing, breathing in and then breathing out. That data is gone. You didn’t get to reformat it first, you don’t know what you lost. It hurts—you’re a little dizzy. You weren’t expecting this. They got too comfortable with you.
Your hands are shaking, but you suck a breath in like you haven’t breathed in years, and you turn around. There’s a brown scavenger behind you. Your neuron is in its hands, and it’s playing with it, poking it and turning it around. It stops as it notices you moving, blinking at you anxiously, clutching your neuron closer. You reach for it; it shies away, taking a few steps back. You need your neuron back. You need it back. It hurts. You need your neuron back.
[Emergency actions — active until crisis is over.]
>Uh oh. Sign the sign for danger at it? Hopefully it gets the point across. Because this situation is rather inconvenient.
"Dangerous," you echo your overseer, pointing at your neuron—did it always take this much focus to hold your hand steady? No, no, it didn't—and you repeat the sign a few times. The scavenger blinks at you rapidly in confusion, looking down at your neuron. It's undamaged. The data is probably still there, you just need it back.
The scavenger doesn't seem to understand you, but it does look more uncertain now. It's still holding your neuron, but it isn't doing anything with it.
[Emergency actions — active until crisis is over.]
>Make grabbing motions for the neuron, fast.
Reduced to begging, but you don’t have a choice. You grab at the neuron—no, wait, you know their word for this. You scratch at the ground, pointing at the neuron. You want it. You need it. You hope the scavenger understands, it has to understand.
It blinks at you, looking down at the neuron and back at you several times. “This dangerous?” it hesitantly asks, gesturing to the neuron. “You want?”
“Yes,” you respond. Yes, yes, yes, please. You’re able to think more clearly now, but you would much rather not lose any neurons. You need as many as you can have.
It stares at you for a long while. You tug your umbilical cord down closer to you so your neurons are next to you, and you point at them, then at yourself. Then you scratch at the floor again to solidify your point; you hope you made your case properly.
The scavenger blinks at you a few more times, then slowly hands your neuron to you. You retrieve it, reattaching it to the rest of your neurons and reconfiguring it. A shudder runs through you as your synapses remap again to accommodate the neuron and its data, but your head clears and your breaths come more easily. The dull ache you hadn’t noticed until now fades, settling into some deep recess in your mind as your systems reset. You sigh; you need to be more careful. (+1 neuron)
You glance up, meeting the gaze of the brown scavenger, who has been watching the whole process with its head cocked. You can’t tell if it understands what just happened, but it doesn’t try to reach for your neurons again as it patters past you. You still hold your umbilical cord closer, watching as the rest of the scavengers filter out into various nooks and crannies within the husk of this nectar harvester, clearly settling down for the night.
You should do the same. The rain started while you were trying to bargain for your neuron. You shuffle closer to the wall amid the persistent pounding of water on metal, and you keep your neurons close, holding your umbilical cord down with your arms as you wrap them around your legs. There aren’t any scavengers near you anymore, but you’d rather not risk anything.
You… appreciate the scavengers for what they are. They’re inquisitive. They must have found the glow from your neurons interesting. You just hadn’t considered until now that they might not grasp that they’re attached to you and part of you. It’s an intuitive fact for you: your umbilical cord connects you to the rest of you, which… currently, is just your neurons. But to everything else, they’re probably just strange glowing, floating things.
You tuck your arms closer to yourself, trying to relax. Hopefully you’ve communicated the idea that you are your neurons well enough to them. If not… you can just explain it again next cycle, you suppose. They’re clever, and clearly understand a lot. They’ll get it eventually.
You sigh again, starting the power down process. What a strange conundrum to have.