Chapter Text
February 5th, 2043...
8:30 AM
Reader’s POV...
The few things which seemed to be rather consistent about the place you had been hiding out in - just like the two other buildings you’d lived in previously - was that the old warehouse was drafty, thanks to an array of broken windows, torn-out (or blown out) walls, and gigantic holes in the roof.
You’d been able to scrounge and scavenge for food and warm clothing with some success, even daring to travel to the long-abandoned android destruction camp at Hart Plaza to grab a few pieces of clothing from the bins which were lined up along the entryway to the camp, but what you had wouldn’t be enough to deal with this winter’s extremely cold weather.
The warehouse you were currently squatting in wasn’t going to last much longer, as each gust of wind or deluge of heavy rain or heavy snowfall made it too hazardous for you to keep living there, despite your efforts to make it a somewhat livable space. You needed to find a better, somewhat safer place to live, if such a thing still existed in the remnants of war-ravaged Detroit... or anywhere else in the US.
Even though you’d been living in the abandoned, dilapidated warehouse for six months, it had become impossible to stay there, so, you gathered up your meager possessions, stuffed them into a big, battered backpack which had seen better days, made sure you had left no traces of your presence, including dousing the small fire that had kept you warm with a pile of snow that had fallen through a rather large hole in the roof, and left the warehouse not a moment too soon.
The moment you had taken more than a few hundred steps away, a strong gust of wind had nearly knocked you down, and a loud groan came from behind you. You turned around on unsteady feet to see the warehouse, made of loosened bricks, rotting wood and rusted metal, collapse into a pile of rubble. Only three brick walls remained standing, but the roof was gone, along with the interior of the warehouse.
With a soft sigh, you managed to get your bearings, and kept moving. There wasn’t much time for you to dilly-dally; after all, you weren’t sure who was still in the area, or who might be watching and waiting in the shadows for their chance to attack.
As you journeyed from Ferndale to Hart Plaza, making sure you stayed in the shadows as often as possible so you wouldn’t be seen right away by any enforcement patrols that occasionally passed through the area, your mind went back to your harrowing escape from Cyberlife headquarters five years ago, and your confrontation with the android whose creation had been among your division’s numerous pet projects - the upgraded version of the former “Connor” RK-800, RK-900.
It wasn’t an encounter you wanted to think about at that particular moment, so you pushed it out of your mind as you silently, diligently searched for shelter, food and clothing along the way, while navigating the deserted streets. Although it was sunny, it was still cold, and it didn’t help that you hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in a few days, and you were in need of food and water.
You kept focused on the street ahead, but what bothered you most was the silence, occasionally interrupted by the wind as it whistled through the broken shop windows, and shattered bus shelters that you passed by. There were times during your journey when you felt like you were walking through a graveyard, and it made you feel uneasy, especially since you couldn’t help wondering if you were the only human left alive in Detroit... or in the United States, which gave you no comfort at all.
There was no sound of gunfire or explosions like in past days. This time, there was nothing but silence. It was a strange feeling to stand on what was once a bustling street corner, look up and see no messages on electronic billboards, no sound of people talking, no cars or buses on the streets, no sound of trains on the overhead rails. You crossed the street, and approached the Ferndale rapid transit station with wariness and nervous hesitation, your ungloved hand slipping into your coat pocket. The smooth handle of the knife felt cold to the touch, but it was also comforting to know it was there.
You deliberately slowed your pace just long enough to peer inside the station entrance. The sounds of rustling papers could be heard, and even though it was tempting to stake out a spot there, you weren’t sure who was also living there, so you ran away as quickly as you could.
As you continued your journey towards Downtown Detroit, you discovered an abandoned building which appeared to be in relatively good shape. The lower part of the building had been a small grocery store at one time, and even though the windows had been broken out, it looked like it hadn’t been occupied for too long. Even though you wanted to keep going, the sun was getting low in the sky, and the wind was picking up. You had little choice but to settle here for the night, and hope that there was something edible among the wreckage.
Once you stepped inside, you immediately set to work building a fire with the materials available. Piles of paper and chunks of wood were gathered with care, gently placed inside a large metal pot which was near the middle of the floor. You didn’t have time to question what appeared to be your good fortune, so, once you gathered up the materials, you reached into one of your coat pockets, pulled out a box of matches, struck the match, and carefully lit the fire.
The warmth from the fire made the old store a bit more comfortable, and as you started searching for anything useful, you discovered several items, including a metal baseball bat, which was hidden behind the counter. You immediately grabbed it, thinking that it may serve as a good weapon. With bat in hand, along with a handful of other items, including a few battered cans, you sat on the floor, close to the fire, and watched the sun go down.
You had almost drifted off when several voices snapped you back to wakefulness. You grabbed the bat, and quickly made your way back towards the counter, where you found a good hiding place underneath it. Once you hid yourself, you listened carefully as the voices grew closer.
“Looks like someone’s been here,” a female voice said, sounding rather irritated, “I thought there weren’t supposed to be any humans in this area?”
“Apparently, there have been a few humans seen wandering around, but they’re smart enough to stay hidden unless they’re foraging for food,” a male voice, younger and softer, replied. “In any case, if there are humans here or in the immediate area, they’re probably hungry and cold.”
“So, where do you think they’d be, Simon?” another male voice asked.
“Probably at one of the Urban Farms located throughout the city,” Simon replied, “That would be the most logical place for them to find food and some shelter, especially if they didn’t have the means to leave the city.”
“The Urban Farms?” the woman said, a note of distaste in her voice. “Not exactly where I’d want to live. Why doesn’t the Council simply send in the troops and round them up?”
“North, that’s enough!” Simon said, his voice sharp and angry enough to make you tremble. “The war is over. The humans had no choice but to surrender, and even though we could have committed genocide against them for what they did to us, that’s not what Markus wanted!”
“So, what are we supposed to do, then?”, North asked, still sounding upset. From your vantage point underneath the counter, you could hear them shuffling around the store, but you didn’t dare take a peek above the counter, lest you give yourself and your hiding place away.
After a few nail-biting moments of silence, North finally spoke. “If there’s a human in here, they’re probably hiding upstairs, where it might be warmer. That’s where I’d be.”
“Well, if there is someone down here, they probably won’t be staying here too long,” the second man said, as his foot bumped against the burning pot. “Hard to say if there’s any food in here, and if there is, it’s probably spoiled and inedible”.
“Maybe so, Josh, but it’s getting late, and Markus, Nines and Connor will be waiting for our recon report,” Simon told them, “We’d better get back to Liberation Tower. It’s not a good idea for us to linger here.”
“Fine,” North muttered, as the three of them left the store. “I’ll be glad to get out of here, and go back to Belle Isle. This part of town gives me the creeps.”
“Once we give them our report, they can decide whether this section of Detroit can be rebuilt,” Josh said, as he stepped through the remnants of a broken front window and onto the sidewalk. “Perhaps some of these buildings can be restored and used as new homes for our people. There’s at least two hundred million of us now since the Cyberlife manufacturing plants across the country were seized, and more of us are being made.”
Once Simon and North left the building, she spoke once more. “I thought we would be able to bury our dead, but giving those who weren’t badly damaged a second chance at life was too good to pass up. I’m looking forward to the day when the landfills are almost empty, and the camps will finally be dismantled.”
“Markus insisted that the Hart Plaza camp remain standing, along with a memorial for those who couldn’t be restored, and turning the section of the harbor where Jericho sank into a memorial, as well,” Josh said, his voice holding a touch of reverence. “He was also talking about letting the other camps remain as a reminder of what we went through at the hands of the humans, as well as a reminder that something like this could happen again, if we’re not vigilant, and don’t come to some semblance of agreement with the humans.”
“Let’s go,” Simon told them, “We don’t want to be late, and if there are humans in the vicinity, they may see us, and try to attack us. Some of them may believe the war isn’t over...”
”That won’t be a problem once the communications and power grids are fully restored and operational across the country,” Josh replied, “There may be humans in isolated locations who don’t know the war ended last month, and they’ll be the most difficult ones to deal with.”
You held your breath until you heard them leave, and even after you heard them walk away, you weren’t ready to move. It was only after your knees started to hurt after having been curled under the counter for so long that you emerged from your hiding place, and approached the still warm pot. You added more scraps of paper and wood to revive the fire, and it burned with a steady, warm light.
You were able to look around towards the back of the store, and found what used to be a small kitchen, complete with a sink. With a careful turn of the handle, a gush of running water flowed out of the faucet, and even though the water was cold, it still felt good.
While the water was still running, you poked through the cabinets, looking for any useful utensils and products, including a few more pots and pans. By the time you were finished, you’d managed to have three huge fire pots going, two oven racks placed upon two of the largest pots, and two other fairly large pots filled with water, which were sitting on top of each oven rack; one pot was for washing yourself, and the other pot was used to heat up the water so it would be drinkable.
You figured that after all of the hardships you’d gone through just to stay alive, you were thankful to have a place to rest for the night, and even find a bit of food. So, you went through the store, now lit by three strategically placed fire pots, to find what else you needed to settle in for the night.
After you’d eaten some tuna with mixed vegetables in a can, you felt a little better, and it was time to create an area where you could bathe and sleep with some privacy, which wasn’t going to be an easy task.
After giving the large storefront a good look, the long wood and plastic counter where you had hidden yourself earlier seemed to be the best place to rest for the night, since it wasn’t exposed to the cold and winds. You carefully maneuvered all three of the fire pots to be close to the counter without them blocking your way in or out. Part of what used to be a protective shield was carefully aligned on top of the counter, and pushed against the wall to create a canopy which you hoped would keep you warm.
Once you sat underneath the canopy, you pulled off your coat, and rummaged through the pockets to insure that everything you needed was there. Once you had finished, you picked up your overstuffed backpack, opened it, and took out a few articles of clothing. The water in the pot at the farthest end of the counter had warmed up enough so you could wash yourself, and with a bar of soap you found in the kitchen, and a wash cloth you had stolen from somewhere, you were finally able to wash yourself, and this little luxury made you feel alive.
By the time you finished washing, the winds had diminished considerably, and with several fires burning, the store didn’t feel nearly as cold as it did earlier. Once you were dressed in cleaner, warmer clothes, your mood had lightened, and as you prepared to get some rest, with your baseball bat beside you, underneath the heavy woolen-type coat you wore, which was your cover, and your backpack as a lumpy pillow, you curled underneath the canopy, and drifted off into a fitful, dreamless sleep, punctuated by nightmares you tried hard to forget.