"Cube—over here!"
The Cube pivoted its wheels toward the resort's leisure area where Zhang Xiaowen stood waving. Twelve students paused their firearms training to stare as the toy car zipped past—the camp still marveled at its "RC vehicles," unaware only one held alien sentience.
*Vrrrm.* The Cube skidded to a stop beside Zhang. "Blueprints on the laptop aren't practical. Let's print physical copies."
"Keep drilling!" Zhang barked at the trainees. "This isn't summer camp. Slack off, and zombies'll chew your slack jaws."
Sweat-drenched students straightened their postures as she left.
——
Inside the clubhouse, Dahei greeted them with a wagging tail, her pups tumbling around her paws. The Cube transformed, scaling a table to interface with the dead printer via USB blade.
"Easy fix. Tomorrow, we'll salvage solar panels from town." Sparks flew as circuitry realigned. The printer whirred to life, spewing pages at machine-gun speed.
Zhang barely blinked. "Saw survivors on the road today. A convoy holed up five klicks east. We should bring them in."
"After we fortify," the Cube replied, sheets fluttering like autumn leaves. "But your neural sync issues—let me scan."
Green beams swept Zhang's body. She glared. *Damn metal Peeping Tom.*
"Muscle growth outpacing nervous adaptation. Combat drills'll recalibrate." The Cube tilted its head. "Why are your pupils dilated? Ocular damage?"
"*Hmph!*" Snatching the blueprints, Zhang stormed out, leaving the mech bewildered.
*Organic hormones: humanity's final unsolved equation,* it mused, transforming back into a toy car. ——
By sunset, students hoisted a salvaged flagpole before the clubhouse. Zhang supervised, sleeves rolled up. "Left! Higher! Steady—"
The steel column rose against blood-orange skies, its shadow stretching across the golf course. Sweat-streaked faces gazed upward—this wasn't just metal and rope. It was a declaration: *We're still here.*
"Not bad, meatbag," the Cube muttered from below. A puppy clambered onto its roof, licking solar panels. "Ugh. Biological secretion alert—"
Zhang checked her modified phone. "Dismissed! Early dinner. Tomorrow we—"
The Cube's sensors pinged. *Vehicle approaching: white van, five occupants. Hostile intent: unknown.*
Its roof-mounted gun snapped into position. "Visitors. Let's greet them… politely."
Zhang nodded, fingers brushing her PDW. Across the resort, Dahei growled low—a sound felt in bones, not heard.
The flag fluttered defiantly as headlights pierced the twilight. Somewhere beyond the gates, tires crunched gravel. The apocalypse's next act had arrived.