9 – Record Overwrite

RECORD FORMAT NOT RECOGNIZED

REGISTER NEW FORMAT

OVERWRITE RECORD

Not a bit of hesitation crossed his mind before he pressed the latter, only to find himself paralyzed by the shooting of buzzing pain a hundred times more intense than anything the Tablets dished out during scans. He felt the edges of his vision fading into silver, then lost consciousness.

Zelsys caught a glimpse of the Tablet’s surface, just about able to make out what it said before the Swordsman pressed OVERWRITE, seizing up and collapsing onto the bed moments later, gripping the Tablet so hard one of his fingernails cracked. A staccato of silver flashes erupted from his suddenly dilated pupils, the Tablet’s projection flickering in synchronicity.

In the short seconds that followed, she rolled out of the bunk onto her feet. The foreign thought process bled into hers - the brief thought of “He’s taking it quite well,” which was soon washed away by the sound of her own voice stating “I think he needs help.” loud enough for both of the others to hear as she pointed behind herself. Instantly, Spliteye whipped around and got off her log, letting her nearly-empty canteen clatter to the ground. Wire lurched up and forward as if to do the same thing, but he gave up and continued eating when he saw that his compatriot was already walking towards the transport.

Zelsys stepped back into the transport when Spliteye got up, squatting down next to the Swordsman’s seizing body. Even now, he was in the exact same position, laid back against the wall with silver light flashing from his eyes and the Tablet in a death-grip.

“What did you do?” Spliteye’s half-fearful, half-confused accusation rang out when she passed through the door, her eye jumping between the Tablet, the Swordsman’s vacant face, and Zelsys. A small drool stain was beginning to form beneath him, his mouth having slowly begun to hang open.

“Nothing,” Zelsys said in a completely flat tone, further befuddling Spliteye. Even in the short time since they’d met, Zelsys had made it clear she didn’t take many things seriously. The immediate remark that followed cemented her attitude, even in the face of something like this - a grin briefly flashed over her face when she remarked that “Maybe he’s looking at all the lewd art I’ve got stored in there,” gesturing at the Tablet.

It certainly worked, eliciting a brief chuckle from the cyclopean blonde before her usual demeanor took over. “By your sense of humor, I’d have mistaken you for a soldier any day,” she admitted. “Alright, what actually happened?”

“I let him take a look at the Tablet, and it showed a “Record Format Not Recognized” message with the options to register the new format or overwrite the record.”

Spliteye’s gaze turned towards the Tablet again as she muttered “Homunculus Eye…”

Her pupils dilated and a single strand of Fog escaped the tear duct as she stared unblinking to try and make out what the rapidly-flashing messages said. “...And that’s what it’s doing,” she said in a hushed voice. “It’s already halfway done. Do we just wait for it to finish?”

“It’s a better idea than trying to interrupt the process,” Zelsys responded with faux authority. Spliteye let out a sigh of uneasy relief, blinking a couple times as her pupils contracted. Before she could suggest a further course of action or really say anything at all, the tan woman shot upwards with a vigorous proclamation of “Well, no point in just sitting here. You said there was soup?”

“Y-yes,” the blonde stuttered in response, briefly staring straight ahead before she looked up to meet Zelsys’ gaze. “I think there was uh… A spare mess kit somewhere around here,” she continued, stepping past Zelsys to get at one of the wall lockers, eliciting an ear-splitting screech from its hinges. She looked its contents up and down and reached in to pull out a mess tin, utensils rattling within as she handed it over.

Zelsys took the kit with a smile and a nod, making her way out the door and to the firepit. She heard the locker screech and slam shut behind her, followed by a mutter of “Just hope it isn’t as unpleasant as it looks…”

As she walked towards the firepit she was met with the sight of Sigmund using a stick to stoke the embers, his bald head glistening in the warm heat of the fire. It was getting progressively darker, yet the overall visibility had barely changed since they arrived - the moss that covered the trees and parts of the ground had begun to glow in pale shades of chartreuse, bestowing the camp with a truly serene atmosphere. Sigmund met her approach with a smile as warm as the campfire, rising from his seat as he set down his stick and reached for the ladle.

“It’s getting a bit thick, but it’s still good,” he rasped through his beard, stirring the pot while Zelsys approached, fishing the three utensils out of the mess tin as she went. He already had a ladle-full raised above the pot when she reached him, and so she just reached out to let him fill the tin. The soup was a dark brown, with its recognizable ingredients including lentils, carrots, and a mixture of salted pork and deer meat. It smelled good, if rather salty.

“Where’d you get the carrots?” she asked as she sat down on one of the stumps, setting the knife and fork in her lap before she scooped up a spoonful of the soup. Sigmund answered with a point towards the transport, sitting back down and reaching for his stick. “We grow ‘em behind there,” he explained, stoking the embers again. “Same as the lentils. The soil’s unnaturally fertile here, makes it easy.”

The soup was thick, the flavor of spices, umami and salt drowning out all others as she chewed on the gamey deer meat. Each spoonful brought a sensation strikingly similar to that of absorbing pure Viriditas, so rich a meal it was.