The hike back up to the other side of the Cuboid made her realize that her stamina won't last forever. The digital space would change its coding in tweny minutes, and she hadn't even reached half and a quarter way. Her re-boots were worn to the point of being unusable, holes and virusses donning the outer layer like some new numbers.
L00t had promised to reward her with something 'incredibly, digitally, futuristically amazing'. She believed him - or rather, in his purely computer decoded heart. She fought the electrical mites and binary bugs. She almost sacrificed an arm and one prosthetic leg.
The vortex whirred, a slow humming tune going in and out her ears. She had been hearing the same tune for a few days - or maybe weeks? - until she got used to its constant wave length. It was her only ally during battles, in between battles, during her dreamless sleeps. She'd miss it.
Her feet stopped climbing up as her eyes captured something. A spark; probably another reciting bug. The electrical currents sent glowing flowers flying mid air until they somewhat died, fading into wispy white smokes. She reached out for her whistle, ready to call one of her available creatures, in case a bad fight would explode.
It was not until the distance was less than four feet left between her and the source of the sparks when she noticed the circuit board contaminated with something. Dark brown and deep red were splotched against the metallic surface, covering the gleaming silver components beneath it. A small silhouette was curled dead on the center of the sparks, writhing once in a while with agony.
The Vortex was no place for those which are not electrical, nor decoded. It gave no source of life for those who depend on natural sources.
Yet the silhouette came to light as a child acupino, with cuts and bruises on its blooming wide-quills. Fresh blood poured down from its snout, and its claws were broken, steaming grey clouds from the contact with the electrical current.
Her feet shuffled carefully, approaching the hurt creature. Lowering her guards, she put away her whistle.
And the current exploded with a zap.
YOU ARE READING
Blunt
Short Story"For I am a blunt edge, the dull side that is of a deadly weapon; yet still, I can cut through the waves in an odd sense." -Forgive and Take- "Like a progressive evolution of a semi-completed music score, our hands reach out of the nebula. We pictur...