Rising After the Fall

This is chapter two of a multi-chapter story requested by Adam and written by Vanessa Foxe (breedorbebred)

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Cianna gave the pot on the stove another quick stir, then double-checked that the element was set low enough that the food wasn't at risk of boiling over. Satisfied, she dropped the lid back into place, sat down in her customary chair at Zavier's small kitchen table, and started riffling through the messenger bag she'd left hanging on the back of it. The oats would still need to cook at a low simmer for another five or ten minutes, and she didn't need to be standing guard over the stove for that.

A small, private smile crossed her face at the thought of having a usual chair. Before Zavier extended his parents' hospitality to her, Cianna's "customary seat" had been wherever there was a free spot in the base's cafeteria. She'd never had a real home, somewhere that she returned to frequently enough to really settle into.

It was an odd feeling, but certainly not an unpleasant one.

While at first she'd felt like an interloper in this home, it had grown on her. And she'd felt a lot more comfortable after Zavier made a video call to his parents so Cianna could introduce herself and ask permission to stay. Even before the call, Zavier had been certain his mother and father would be fine with her presence, but she'd wanted to hear it from them. Once she'd known that everyone involved was comfortable with the new living arrangements, it had been a lot easier to let herself really settle in.

The old-world supersoldier reminded herself for the hundredth time that this was a temporary arrangement, and there was no sense in getting too attached. True, this "temporary arrangement" had gone from a quick overnight to a nine-week stay, but she would be moving on as soon as she could. It would be pointless for her to get too attached to this place, or to anyone in it...

Soft footsteps down the hall told her that Zavier was finally up. He was an early riser, but she was always awake an hour or more before him-- her old sergeant had always said that if the sun was up before you were, then you had overslept.

The small roll of plastic was right where she expected it to be-- an inner pocket on one side of her tote bag. She packed the bag the exact same way every time, the exact same way she had packed it since basic camp.

Cianna pulled on the roll and tore the top packet off of it. After a moment's thought, she unrolled the whole length, counting the remaining packages even though she already knew the number she would come to. She had checked her supplies almost daily over the last two months, and the running tally in her head was perfectly accurate. Nevertheless, she ran a finger down the line of plastic and counted up her pills again.

The number hadn't somehow magically changed overnight, so she still had exactly as much left as she'd had yesterday-- minus the pouch she had pulled off just now.

"Seems like such a waste," Zavier mumbled in a sleepy voice. He watched her from the doorway as Cianna carefully rolled the rest of the disposable pill pouches back up. "That's so much plastic. Couldn't they have just put them in a couple of glass bottles?"

Cianna said nothing, just like she'd done the last twenty times Zavier had complained about all the plastic packaging she went through. Privately, she had to admit that he was right: the package was wasteful, but at least it was convenient. Her pills were carefully pre-portioned to exactly what she needed to take daily, with each day's pills packed into its own plastic pouch. The inch-long packets were attached end-to-end, and rolled into a cylinder of plastic. A cylinder that was much smaller now than it had been when she first awoke in her cryopod outside of Elk River Valley.

The pack was serrated along one side, and she tore it open to pour the pills into her hand. Each morning's allotment was exactly the same as the one before, but she counted the pills just to make sure. She wasn't even sure what all of them did, just that every member in her team of genetically-augmented elite soldiers was given a daily ration of pills.

When the pills ran out, she wouldn't know how to replace them. Which was just one more reason why she had to be ready to leave this quiet, idyllic little town as soon as she could.

With her pills taken and the pack returned to precisely where she always put it, Cianna turned and busied herself with finishing her work on the pot of oatmeal. She worked with literal military efficiency, having already lined up each ingredient already beside the pot in the order she would use them. Nuts, seeds, dried fruit, a generous allotment of sugar-- exactly the way she'd made it yesterday, and the day before that.

"Smells delicious," Zavier sighed as he sat down across the table from Cianna's usual spot. "Are you working with Alannis again today?"

"Just for a few hours this morning." Cianna ladled the oatmeal into two bowls, then set the empty pot in the sink.

Zavier would wash the dishes, per their standing agreement-- whoever cooked didn't have to clean up afterwards. Cianna had agreed to this perfectly equitable arrangement, but only because Zavier hadn't been willing to accept her doing all of the chores herself. He'd insisted that she didn't need to work to repay him for letting her live here, and she had finally gotten tired of arguing.

Usually, the soft young man was quick to give in to Cianna's suggestions or requests. Maybe that was because she stood more than a foot-and-a-half taller than him and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. More likely, his agreeability was just part of his nature: Zavier rarely argued with anyone, didn't like to assert himself, and struggled to even raise his voice at someone when it was necessary. But when it came to insisting that others didn't need to do things for him, Zavier was actually quite stubborn. That, Cianna could relate to.

"Sounds fun," he said around a mouthful of hot oats. "Are we still on for this afternoon?"

"Yep. I should be back by noon, and we'll be fine to leave for two o'clock."

Cianna sat and started methodically working through her breakfast. She'd given herself about twice as much as she'd spooned out for Zavier. He'd been surprised the first time he saw her sit down and clear a meal big enough for two, but he'd eventually gotten used to Cianna's large appetite.

The genetic-modification program responsible for the old world's supersoldiers had given Cianna a few advantages over unmodified humans: she was bigger, built muscles more easily and kept them for longer, had faster reflexes, and could even see better in the dark. But there were drawbacks, too, and high metabolism was the least of them. Some of the pills she took every morning helped mitigate the harsher costs of her augmentations.

"How's the power cell looking?" Zavier didn't specify what battery he was talking about-- but then, he didn't need to. There was only one power cell in the house that was worth talking about.

Cianna grimaced. "I checked this morning. It's charged up to just under fifty percent."

She started charging her military-grade power cell the night she first arrived in Elk River Valley, siphoning off whatever excess power the settlement could spare. She could only do so at night, when the settlement's power usage was reduced enough to have reserves that she could take. Even then, the going was incredibly slow. The device was meant to be plugged into specialised stations powered by small nuclear reactors, where it could draw incredible amounts of power.

The tiny trickle of power the settlement provided didn't even translate to one percent of the battery's capacity per day. And, as the nights grew colder and Elk River's inhabitants used more power to heat their homes, the power they could spare each day was shrinking.

Zavier nodded, but didn't say another word. They both understood that when her power cell was charged-- or as charged as she was going to be able to get it-- it was going to be time for Cianna to leave. The idea of leaving this small, peaceful community, not to mention Zavier, left a ball of emotions in her gut too tangled for Cianna to sort through. So, rather than trying to deal with that, she simply let the matter drop as they finished their meal in silence.

Cianna's bowl was empty before Zavier's, despite having far more in it to begin with, and she set it inside the pot for him to deal with, then grabbed her bag and left with a nod and a wave.

Elk River Valley was largely self-sufficient-- especially since Zavier's parents had brought them a few crates full of high-efficiency, recyclable solar panels several years ago. Most of their food came from a long stretch of farmland that hugged the eponymous Elk River, a pair of rice paddies, and the two large agricultural domes that allowed for year-round food growth. They'd even taken to growing tea leaves and a few other exotic plants that the Outquisition supplied them with when Zavier's family moved into town two years prior. The rice paddies were fed by the town's wastewater, which was cleaned by carps and catfish in a massive artificial pond that used few chemicals.

All consumption here was balanced against production, with renewability and preservation in mind. This was apparently the norm for this whole region.

It was all so different from how the world was before. Greed, mass consumption, and unsustainable practices all led to ever-escalating resource usage. The demand became too high for supply to keep up, and then pollution and contamination ruined so much of what was left. It led to war, and the eventual destruction of Cianna's entire nation... The destruction of much of the world.

All of that had culminated just a few months ago, from Cianna's perspective. Meanwhile, outside of her cryopod, the world had moved on and healed. When she first awoke, she'd assumed mere years had gone by, but now she suspected it had been much, much longer-- decades, at least.

Sitting on a lovely bench made of recycled timber at the northern edge of the woodland, Alannis was waiting for her. She greeted Cianna from afar with a friendly wave, and grinned at her as she got closer.

"Finally woke up, hm?" the old woman teased when Cianna drew close enough for conversation. "Thought you'd leave me here all morning."

No matter how early Cianna set out to meet with Alannis, the old woman always seemed to get there a bit sooner. Cianna had no idea how old the other woman was, but the white hair and deep wrinkles made Cianna think her age was somewhere in the range of mid-sixties to early seventies. "You know me, grandmother-- always slacking."

Everyone seemed to call her "grandmother", although, as far as Cianna could tell, Alannis had never had any children, let alone grandchildren. Her last name was Janesdottir, a holdover from her family's Scandinavian roots. It seemed to Cianna like the old world's borders and national identities didn't mean as much in this new world, but some liked to hold onto their ancestral artifacts.

The old woman still busied herself foraging in the surrounding woods and fields, bringing back what she liked to call "nature's gifts": wild-grown fruit, nuts, mushrooms, and seeds. She had been doing this for fifty years or more, and had apparently learned how to forage for local food and herbs from her father, who had learned from his mother.

Alannis beamed even wider at Cianna, clearly pleased that she'd gotten the best of the much younger woman again. "Shall we start, or would you like to rest a little longer?"

Not wanting to give Alannis the satisfaction, Cianna simply ignored the jab and held out a hand for the old woman.

After fifty-odd years of stooping down to pull up tubers and fungi, Alannis wasn't quite as nimble as her young helper. These days, she walked with a cane made of recycled aluminum-- which someone had hand-engraved with pictures of flowers and trees for her-- and needed help gathering foragables from ground-level. Apparently, the youngsters in town took turns helping Janesdottir as she wandered the woods, but recently Cianna had taken over the burden.

Cianna had been looking for some kind of work to show the community that she was pulling her own weight, and the old woman had needed help from someone strong enough to hike and haul bags of food. A win-win.

The foraging was a lot more enjoyable than the odd labour jobs Cianna had been doing for folks in town before, and it gave her a chance to perform a tactical survey of the surrounding area. So far, she'd seen no signs of the facility where her pod had been stored when she first got in it, and no evidence of any other pods. So, along the way, Cianna focused on trying to learn some local history from the old woman.

The trouble with that was that Cianna couldn't just come right out and say, "I'm a supersoldier from the old world's military, and I was in a cryogenic sleep for somewhere between ten and a hundred years-- can you tell me what year it is, what the current geopolitical landscape looks like, and how to find a hidden base full of my sleeping comrades?"

Instead, she and Alannis had a little game they played. Cianna would ask surreptitious questions about historical details and dates, trying to figure out what year it was and what had gone on while she'd been asleep by process of elimination, and Alannis would ask questions about more recent history that Cianna had to bluff her way through. Alannis had clearly figured out that Cianna wasn't from around here-- or from around now-- but the soldier was trying to keep the old woman from guessing the full truth. And so it went, back and forth, as they followed hidden trails that only Alannis knew.

"Today, I'm especially on the lookout for chickweed, and others in that family," Alannis explained as they walked. "They're mostly a spring plant, but they make this almost magical resurgence after the first frost and the autumn rains. It's a short window before they wilt again, so we have to get as much as we can this week. And, of course, you know what folks in these parts do with chickweed..."

And this was the test. Surely anyone who lived in this region would know how to use foraged chickweed, right? "You can mash it into a salve," Cianna answered confidently. She had studied a foraging handbook that Zavier's parents, as part of the Outquisition, had brought with them to Elk River. "It's good for skin conditions."

"And you can eat the leaves as salad greens, of course." Alannis' eyes twinkled as she spoke, clearly thinking she'd caught Cianna out.

"Of course... as long as you don't eat too much at once. It'll give you quite the upset stomach."

Alannis gave her a wink but didn't say anything else, and Cianna felt a twinge of anxiety. Had she said something wrong? Did her answer sound too much like something out of a textbook, and not enough like something someone who was comfortable with the subject would say?

They got lucky and found a few big patches of the bright green herb, not to mention a trio of trees that were positively covered in shelves of Chicken of the Woods, an edible mushroom that actually had a nice savoury flavour. They also spotted a lone buck taking a mid-morning drink from a small creek. Cianna crouched low-- as low as a seven-foot tall woman could get, anyway-- and closed in on the deer. She carefully reached into her bag and drew one of the items she'd taken to carrying with her everywhere since waking up.

The buck lifted his antlered head and stared in her direction as Cianna lined him up in her sights, but he didn't spot her. She toggled the lens slightly, bringing him more clearly into focus, and took her shot. The camera made faint clicking sounds as she caught half a dozen pictures of him before he finally decided he was done and took his leave.

Photography for fun, instead of as part of a reconnaissance mission, was new to Cianna. It was a simple hobby, one that brought her a surprising amount of joy. She'd never had enough time to pursue activities like that before-- there were only so many assigned recreation hours per week in her regiment.

"Did you get a good picture?" Alannis asked, peering over Cianna's shoulder as she packed the camera back up.

It was too bright out to see the screen well, but she was pretty sure some of those shots would turn out nicely. The picture would probably join the others on the wall in her room... The wall in Zavier's parent's spare bedroom, she corrected herself. No matter how comfortable she had grown in that space, it was only temporary.

Zavier didn't understand what made her collection of pictures so special to Cianna, and she hadn't really been able to explain it. How did you explain to someone born in a world of greenery that a clear, unpolluted stream was something special? That seeing animals thriving in natural spaces was amazing, when he had never seen wildlife habitats reduced down to narrow strips of "preserves" as urbanization spread further and further out?

Alannis seemed to understand... or maybe she just thought it was endearing that Cianna liked to stop and take pictures of each new wildflower she saw.

They ended their trip with a stop at a wild orchard, a large clearing where someone had planted half a dozen crabapple trees and some elderberry bushes decades ago. Alannis, and others like her, had foraged from these plants and tended the ground around them over the years since, until what was left was a large, natural garden. The two women filled another sack with small, sour crabapples, and even a few handfuls of acorns that Alannis said could be ground down into a nutritious flour for baking.

Alannis' hip was starting to bother her by then, and the walk back took twice as long as the trip out. Cianna's watch-- a gift from Zavier, which he'd apparently recovered and repaired himself-- told her she was behind schedule.

She'd have to skip the shower if she wanted to be on time for her outing with Zavier, a fact that definitely did not please her. It's not that Cianna felt she had to look good for the get-together, of course. Zavier had been quite specific that their time spent together was not a date when she had asked him point-blank what his intentions were. They both knew she wasn't going to be around long enough for any attachment like that to be wise.

There was no reason she should need to look her best before meeting up with him, since this wasn't a date, and yet the idea of looking less than that made her feel anxious.

It was a genuine struggle to match her pace to Alannis' slower shuffle, but Cianna managed... it wasn't like she was going to leave the old lady behind, after all. By the time they reached the unofficial city line and Alannis said she could make her way home from there, Cianna was already almost late.

She left the bags and basket of food with one of Janesdottir's friends, then took off at a half-run. Zavier was just stepping out of his parents' shop when Cianna rounded the corner, and he looked up and gave her a smile so wide and so bright that she physically staggered. Her heart raced in her chest and warmth flushed on her cheeks... but that probably had more to do with the fact that she'd just been jogging than anything else. She had already decided not to be interested in the young man, after all.

"Hey, Cianna," Zavier said breathlessly as she caught up with him. If her racing heart was from the sudden burst of cardio exercise, what was his excuse? "You ready to get going?"

"Of course." Cianna fell in beside Zavier, shortening her stride to match his relaxed pace. Zavier's legs were a fair bit shorter than hers, and he never seemed to be in a hurry-- except when he was running around the shop in a frenzy, searching for some component he'd mislaid.