The Industrialist

Or maybe, a new life to some insane minds.

***

Lance dragged his feet on the cobbled path between sinuous valleys of mountainous useless junk routinely from the scrapyard to where his house would be.

Today was different.

His feet were light enough that the wind would carry his sole every step he took. Luckily, as if winning a lottery, his hands held a rare find from a scrapped Biotech AI robot – an infused electromagnet battery. An integral component of an energy source that would suffice to power a village if partnered with rare-level tech.

A little spark of hope emanated from this exhilarated individual as if clasping a fortune, so small, in his bare hands. He clutched it with streams of dreams coming to reality.

A certainty to end the realm of Abominants that terrorized beyond the walls of Axe Central City.

The high walls kept them beyond the grasp of the grotesque abomination of mutated animals that turned into monsters.

The citizens could sleep soundly at night. Walls that were majestic to stare upon as if reaching the dust-filled skies had provided that guarantee.

On top of the gargantuan walls, its perimeter was laced with an electrified fence, watch towers with serious laser firepower, and concrete slabs composed the surfaces hardened by thick titanium plating, capable of withstanding tidal waves or a nuke blast.

Moreover, it housed the most intricate turbines propelled by gigantic shafts, powered by the towering windmills equally spaced along the wall structures that encircled the city.

The windmills powered the walls and the walls powered the City. These walls protected the windmill turbines, establishing a vicious cycle of unending energy, impenetrable and sufficient.

Fail safes were established to ensure the wall’s stability and function. Hence, making it indestructible and impenetrable.

Sophisticated and complex as the wall was, it was secretly vulnerable.

Such secrecy was available to Lance and exploiting it would topple the seemingly impenetrable backbone of the walls’ system. Exposing the citizens to every lurking danger the outskirts provided.

Lance knew the design, the concept of it. He knew the weak links of interconnected schematics. With his proper knowledge and a strong will for sabotage, the possibility was unequivocal to shutting the whole thing down.

His father designed the walls - a legendary feat that supposedly would elevate one to fame and glory. Unfortunately, it was the contrary.

Somehow Lance knew that there were loopholes in the design. A factor of it was the presence of underlings, unsanctioned and unregistered citizens, and low-lifers as they were branded. Oblivious to many, they were rooted below the vastness of seemingly perfect and solid structure.

Others called them Rats. They were Rebels, or freedom fighters, or truth seekers.

Whatever they called themselves or any delusion of grandeur they had above the Order, they were still called rats by the majority.

Especially the mid-classers and high-echelon citizens, they say rebels were blinded by the cause. To Lance and of course the rebel members, they were just enlightened.

Lance walked amongst the insignificant commoners that surviving for scant resources was the only top of mind. Primarily, scrapping was the knowledge of the trade, otherwise, would be employed as factory workers under unfair labor practices. However, Lance was different from them.

He had an agenda, a dream of some sort.

He held secrets of science. Secrets that only a chosen privileged few had grasped on them. Lance hoped for a better world and his confidence, probably stupidity, would guarantee him success. If such knowledge is paired with better instruments and infinite resources, a perfect world is achievable. Such drive was a dangerous feat partnered with a surging amount of optimism.

Contribution to this stupendous determination was his newfound rare-level Infused Electromagnet.

Upon his arrival, the door hissed. It was his cabin amongst a row of cabin rooms arranged in an unkempt stack of blocks like Legos. Other cabin blocks were decked upright with each other accessible by steep ladders or poles - unfortunate for the older citizens.

A male techno voice loomed at the moment he stepped in right before a throng of thin fine LED neon lights illuminated his pad.

"Master, welcome home. What’s that in your hand?" The robotic voice startled the quietness in the confined metallic space. An installed AI (Artificial Intelligence), formless, in the realms of his cabin to compensate for his boredom was considered his best friend.

"I know you can scan it, Jasper," Lance responded tiresomely to a Tier 2 residential Artificial Intelligence as he placed the scrapped battery on the glass table.

"It’s a rare item. It is not even in my database." Jasper responded after a few scans.

"Oh, it’s rare all right. I am feeling lucky today! It came from 4th gen service bots that only the higher-ups possess. Don’t know why they scrap it but these models are always recycled to obscure its tech from scums, like me."

"I can sense heightened levels of emotions in you, Master Lance. You must be very excited about what that item can do."

"Hmm. Perceptive of you, Jasper, as always." He sighed. "You know how the world has gone to shit?"

"Nuclear war radiation and global warming combined with chemical bombs accelerating mutation?" Jasper responded snappily.

"True, true. Primarily, the main reason that these Abominants terrorize the world, is because it’s dark. The thick swarm of pollutants blot out the sun. A glimpse of sunlight into these nocturnal beings injects fear into them. As if instant death would be upon them if sun rays grazed their skins.

"We all know that, Master. There is no new information to what you have said. Concerning our discussion, what that battery can do?"

He programmed the AI to be inquisitive enough to cultivate productive conversations.

"This design, the schematics of this battery’s core can be scaled to a larger source, and with the proper tools and materials, we can light up other countries. And that’s one less inhabitable place for them, Jasper. And it will be a start."

"Hope," Lance released a heavy groan.

"You will try to revive your hometown. Is that it, Master Lance?"

"Maybe." His voice lowered to a sob while his hands articulated to the mechanism that lay dormant on the table.

"Survival rate is close to 3%. You can be killed for even attempting to go beyond the walls. Would you like my suggestion?"

"3%? How do you get these computations? Your algorithms seemed to be messing with your mathematic prowess." Lance continued, "Rebels roam over the borders, Jasper, to survive and to trade. If they can do it, so why can’t I?" His voice sharpened.

"Recalculating survival rate with the assumption of leveraging Rebels..." Jasper suggested.

"No need," Lance interjected.

His fingers clasped hard to the edge of the metallic table and the weight of water in his eyes burdened his eyelids as he reeled memories of his dead parents.

Especially his brilliant father became infamous from a vicious product of betrayal.

"I must avenge them. I must destroy the Corporation," He wiped a tear from his cheek. The thought of them haunted him, invoking a searing rage of anger every passing day. These bitter memories molded his heart to be hardened through the test of time.

"With little funds, you can’t just go up against the Corporation with unlimited resources. What you have is still insignificant to even scratch the surface. Loading Profile," Jasper released a slight monotone chuckle.

The holographic words loomed in the air on the front table.

__________________________________________

Name: Lance Berkley

Age: 16 years

Gender: Male

Level/Status: Scrapper 1

Loot: 1,500 units

Origin: Bay City

___________________________________________

"Wow! You are way too discouraging, Jasper. I did not program you this to be so insulting. Should I reboot you?"

"Suggestion is irrational, Master. You programmed me to evolve. My algorithms can analyze the state through observation, henceforth, learning how humans are sarcastic."

"Ok, you smart ass," Lance surrendered to the conversation and let himself a cold filtered glass of water from a robotic dispenser as he pressed his thumb to a recessed Bioscanner.

As water sloshed through the glass filling up the brim, he was nudged of another scarce resource that many people have fought for. The rebels contended against the Corporation as the latter regulated the water’s consumption, pushing the majority of the poor population, the commoners, to die from thirst.

’That’s one way to decrease the population - the death of thirst,’ Lance thought, his fingers squeezing his glass hard.

People’s survival depended solely on the currency (units), and currency can only be earned from the contribution of individuals to the cause of the Corporation – technology upgrades, inventions, innovations, and subtly the reduction of population. Secondly, the currency could be earned working in factories like slaves.

With water scarce and an expensive resource, Lance patented a Bioscanner for all water dispensers in households to prevent pilferage and theft.

What Axe Central City required from the population was to contribute to the upkeep of the industry that served as the veins of blood, pumping throughout the country’s departments that uphold the cause - the lifeline of Humanity’s survival.

Currency and brains were the vital ingredients for a role model patriot, as the Corporation dictated, and the rest of the normal people, branded as useless, were pests.

Commoners. Low-lifers. Rats.

Hence, the Industrialists and all the higher-ups had solidified a system that intensely supported to the evolution and progress of Science and the discovery of new inventions. Eventually filling their pockets with currency instead of healing the world from the Abominant scums that the same science had created.

The Abominants should be the pest. Instead, scientists treated them as another scientific evolution that needed to be preserved and studied.

Obliviously, the Corporation collected samples of these monsters for DNA splicing and mutation discoveries, or maybe immortality – as rumors floated. Significant funds seemed to have supported this cause, neglecting the vital need for food supply generation.

Lance found this outrageous.

He knew that these rebels had driven to their brink of survival and thus had fought against the Corporation for misguided moral and ethical reasons since the beginning. The Academics had called the rebels pestilence, sounding as if they were more of an annoyance to the nation’s hope than the Abominants.

"Have you registered yourself to become a Scrapper 2?" Jasper responded after a deafening shriek. "you have enough units, don’t you?"

For 1000 units, one could become a Scrapper 2 from a Scrapper 1. Registration for an upgrade in status required a monetary equivalent to support the cause of the Corporation.

However, earning units would surmount tediously trading scrap materials and inventions for unfairly granted monetary awards. One month’s food supply of an individual caused them 200 units.

Commoners, and like-minded citizens, would suggest that saved units will only be spent on food and for end-of-the-world scenarios, not by upgrading oneself.

A factory worker could merely earn 200 units a month and it was only enough for one man’s food supply, not for a family. Patented inventions would let a commoner earn extra units if deemed useful by the Corporation.

"Patience, my friend. In time, I will process myself to become a 2nd Tier Scrapper. And will enjoy the perks."

"Perks?" Jasper’s voice jolted.

"Yeah, perks. You are still a week old so you don’t know these things. Let me summarize it for you."

Lance settled himself into a massage chair. The massage chair scanned him and adjusted its size to fit his limbs and scrawny back to start the simulation.

"Each individual earns units by doing jobs for the Corporation or the Government. Most of the lowest levels were employed in factories. Me, I am a scrapper. So, I dismantled scrapped robots and sold off usable parts or repaired them for trade."

The massage chair hummed with a female AI voice started "Starting phase 2 – Massage intensity increased."

Lance continued, "A scrapper 1 is the lowest level then next would be scrapper 2 until Tier 4. And each level up would give you perks. Like for being a scrapper 2, one would enjoy a Tier 2 scrap yard and could access better parts and tech. And the trade is higher than the scraps of Tier 1. So on and so forth. The higher your rank, the higher is the opportunity for better currency."

"After being a scrapper, what next?" Jasper asked.

"The chronological order is:

[1] Scrapper Tiers… Of course, people like me.

[2] Mechanic Tiers… Scrappers dismantle. The Mechanics assemble.

Then the [3] Electrical Tiers… They powered the assembled mechanical bodies.

After which are the [4] Electronic Tiers... These Tiers have the knowledge and skill to program, reprogram, calibrate, to install electronic features to the powered mechanical bodies assembled. Hence, the use of AI.

Then the Industrialists. The Industrialists not only knew the facets of every level there, but they were also authorized to commandeer factories, assembly lines, and even politics to advance the economy. A Political Scientist as some would say… All of which are up to Tier 4."

"So you are planning to become an Industrialist?" Jasper asked. "Why?"

"One, to gain power and units. Secondly, to amend the Corporation and save the world!" Lance responded with half-closed eyes as he disembarked in a relaxed state. The Massage chair sprayed fluids on his face to trigger the relaxed hormonal state, making the experience more enjoyable.

"You forgot to mention your vengeance for your parents." Jasper insisted.

"Saving the world is avenging my parents, Jasper."