The Universe Of Tomorrow

Echoes Of Past Minds

Let me be clear right from the start—this isn’t your ordinary tale. If you’ve stumbled upon these words looking for an escapade filled with glory and gold, you might want to turn away now. I’m a Ruin Raider, and while that title might conjure images of daring exploits and untold treasures, the reality is far more grounded—and grim.

You see, to most folks, being a Ruin Raider is merely a flashy label, a conversation starter at parties. But they don't understand the truth of it. The ones who truly venture into the ruins are a rare breed; most who claim the title barely scratch the surface. They step through the threshold, grab the nearest piece of junk, and retreat, boasting about their ‘adventures.’ Not me, though. I’m one of the exceptions. I’ve delved deep into the bowels of twenty-three buildings in the city of Mistakes, a place as perilous as it sounds.

This city, let me tell you, is no ordinary ruin. It's a labyrinth of nightmares, home to creatures like head suckers that cling to your face and suck the life out of you, wall huggers that blend in until you're too close, and flappers that swoop down from the shadows. And that’s just brushing the surface of what inhabits these ruins.

Why do I do it, you ask? Well, you've got to be one of two things to choose this line of work: dumb or desperate. I confess, I'm a bit of both. But like a cat with nine lives, I've managed to dodge death more times than I can count, and I wear my scars—over thirty of them—as badges of both folly and fortitude.

Now, why am I writing this? Yesterday, I stumbled upon something in the depths of the city of Mistakes, something so significant that it might just explain why this place became the nexus of ruin it is today. Discovering it has shaken me to my core. Writing this down, I hope, might help me make sense of it, might help me sleep at night. Or at the very least, I might find the answers I desperately need. So, bear with me as I recount the details of my latest—and possibly most dangerous—dive.

The day started like any other. The blaring alarm pulled me from the scant comfort of dreams, and I groaned, fumbling to silence it. My apartment was a testament to my lifestyle—strewn with takeout containers and plastic wrappers, a makeshift monument to convenience and necessity. I shuffled around, finding clothes that didn't reek too badly, and pulled them on. Stepping outside, I navigated through the bustling streets of the City of Tomorrow, making my way toward the bleak horizon where civilization ended and the City of Mistakes began.

The air changed as I neared the outskirts, from the electric buzz of the metropolis to a heavy, oppressive silence that seemed to weigh on my shoulders. I paused at the threshold, taking a deep breath before stepping into the ruins, the post-apocalyptic landscape stretching before me.

My go-bag was heavy, packed to the brim with all the essentials a Ruin Raider might need—rations, tools, a first aid kit, and more. Experience had taught me the hard way that being prepared was the only way to survive, especially after spending unplanned nights trapped within these forsaken structures.

I pulled out my trusty old tablet, its screen flickering stubbornly as it clung to life. The interactive map loaded slowly, detailing the labyrinth of the city's ruins. Today's target was the NeoHuman Institute, a building that, according to my map, held promises of forgotten technologies and hidden secrets.

As I approached, the building looked unassuming—a typical three-story structure that might have once been considered decent in any ordinary city. Its façade was nondescript, marked only by the passage of time and the encroaching grip of nature reclaiming the land. However, it was the faint footprints near the entrance—too large and erratic to be human—that caught my attention. The distinctive marks of a head sucker; it was a clear sign that I wasn’t the first visitor, nor was I alone.

Treading carefully, I reached for the compact flashlight strapped to my belt, casting a beam of light over the entrance. The building, though modest, had an air of abandonment that made it all the more eerie. Windows on the upper floors were broken, the shards long cleared by the winds of time, leaving empty eye sockets staring down. The front doors hung slightly ajar, the glass panels shattered, allowing the wind to whisper secrets as it passed through.