Withering World 1 [MCSM Fanfiction]

INFLAMMATION: Chapter 11

Lukas

The interior of my accommodation pod has little resemblance to my cabin back home, its coziness being the only thing that matched perfectly. Who needs that much space, anyway?

Most of my life resides here on my second-hand, donated bed, where the only sounds I ever hear are the squeaking from the partially worn mattress springs and the occasional passerby skirting my residence.

Jesse and the rest have hidden in their own compartments since they were assigned them because of the mourning, so I've had no visitors but, I enjoy the solitude. Still, I wish I could have company, someone, to share my sadness with, which is why it's a stroke of fortune when my pod's sound system automatically starts up. Jesse's voice chimes out of the intercom by my desk. "Lukas, we need you in Sector Central on the fourth floor for a leaders meeting pronto."

Only now do I realize that the intercom is a two-way communication device planted in everyone's pod all of which connect back to headquarters. If we remembered our friends' pod numbers, we could press them in the intercom's keyboard and talk to them like how we would a phone.

I hold the response button and talk into the mic, "I'll be there soon," and sign off my journal entry for today before launching toward my wardrobe to retrieve my leather jacket.

----

Bridges and bridges. Hundreds and thousands of them clear from my vantage as soon as I shut the door to my pod behind me.

Olivia and some of her engineers were clever, placing lamps in smart areas where they would all run on timed daylight sensors. They imitate natural light we get over ground as some switch off during sunset and most by dusk. At least we still have some sort of indication for routine.

Squished together like uniform teeth, everyone's pods link with shockingly effective soundproof walls. Some have already personalized their exteriors by changing the wall colors. Many have decorated them with cute little potted flowers or hanging lanterns. As long as they stay in their territory, I have no right to complain because it is Beacontown after all.

Beacontown, where there is thankfully no form of hierarchy like Champion City. Everyone lives on the second floor with the miners working a safe distance below us, trading and shops on the floor above (third). Finally, we have underground farming and lumber on the fifth floor, leaving all the storage and sorting machines in the fourth. The fourth and fifth are connected by hoppers. Any attempt at exceeding the fifth floor and we'd be overground within the fortification of walls and watch towers. The other leaders, Olivia, Axel, and Stella all decided what to do with their own share of QZ.

I traverse a bridge composed of ropes and oak and another twice in length of polished stone, to get to Sector Central. The sector connects the four underground cities: Beacontown up north, Champion City at Sector South, Redstonia towards the east, and Boomtown opposite in the west.

Before I reach the stairs, Petra's calling my name between pants and gasps, catching up to me from Sector North's border.

"They called you for the meeting too?" I ask.

She tucks a mob of her red hair behind her ears, regaining her breath to speak more comprehensively. "Heck, I don't know why Jesse wants me there. If it's about a funeral for Radar, count me out."

"Why'd you run?"

"It doesn't exactly help that the pods are sorted in alphabetical order. I'm, unfortunately, at the other end of Beacontown's sector," she says.

My face twists into a sympathetic expression. "Yikes, that sucks."

"Whatever, I'll get used to it." Her sudden impulse to drag my arm raises my shock factor a little. We climb the stairs, her leading and I following. "Come on, we're already late."

----

I didn't think I traveled that leisurely. Four pairs of eyes stare at us curiously as we open the door to the meeting block.

"Nice of you both to join us," Jesse says, having reserved two extra stools for me and Petra, who takes her place first next to Jesse and me between herself and Olivia.

"What did we miss?" I turn my head gingerly to observe the other leaders refocusing.

Axel answers first, shrugging his shoulders as if he weren't even paying attention. "I dunno, nothing much, really."

"We were discussing how we need to keep the flow of things," Olivia intervenes coldly, all too solemn. She's lost a fair amount of people in Redstonia too, including her assistant, Calvin. "We need to maintain our working life."

"Which is why we're addressing Petra and the warriors first to get them out of the way ASAP," says Stella with a mischievous smirk, earning a questioning grimace from our redhead.

Jesse foretells the frustration steaming from Petra's glares, laying a hand on hers to stop it overflowing. "What Stella means is the warriors are so flexible that they'll have a wide range of things to do. We have to allocate you guys first as the rest of us stay in the core part of QZ anyway, so it'll be easier to give them jobs."

She settles, resting her chin on her other palm, but doesn't push Jesse's hand away. "What's your proposal?"

"Set One warriors will be overground, in charge of mob population control since it's more dangerous. Most of the looting will be done by Set Two, staying underground where the light levels are a little lower. If you're okay with it, Petra, I'll let you lead Set one and Jack will cover Set two. The rest will be in training since it's not safe enough for them yet. You'll be put on a daily routine and we'll provide you all with anti-infection armor, though it won't make you immune completely-"

"Which is why you chose Set One, I got it," Petra says, "and we'll do everything we can to help, Jesse."

An hour goes by like a quick sweep of a breeze and the leadership has been solidified. Qualified authors and engineers are to work alongside Ivor in the research squad (also in Sector Central). The builders will work on the expansion of QZ, accompanied by the griefers. The rest will keep their farms and trade hobs running as usual.

I don't understand why we make such a big deal of adaption when life is the same, over and over again; wake up, work, eat, rest, repeat, both underground and over. Perhaps I don't whine as much because I'm an author, constantly writing to entice the audience (or more so, myself) about a change or twist in the plot. In most cases... someone dies.

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