A scanning field swept toward me like a diagnostic probe made visible, analyzing sand dunes with methodical precision that made the air itself hum with data collection. The cosmic monitoring system had deployed active sensors, and stealth wasn't exactly on the menu anymore.
"Steve!" I yelled at my glitched double-scorpion. "Interference protocol!"
Steve chittered something that could've been enthusiasm or confusion—honestly, the audio corruption made it impossible to tell. But my loyal arachnid buddy charged straight at the scanning field anyway, his impossible geometry creating exactly the kind of data paradox I was hoping for.
When his duplicated body segments hit the administrative construct, reality did this sick convulsing thing around the impact point. It was beautiful, in the same way watching a server farm catch fire is beautiful. Terrible, but absolutely mesmerizing.
[System Error: Entity collision with Administrative Scan Array]
[Processing... Processing... Processing...]
[Scan Buffer Overload!]
The scanning field stuttered. Its methodical sweep fragmented into chaotic patterns as it tried to categorize Steve's impossible geometry. The diagnostic routine couldn't process contradictory data, creating exactly the interference I'd hoped for. My vultures joined the chaos, their broken flight patterns creating data cascade errors that overwhelmed the analysis protocols.
"Good team," I whispered, genuinely impressed as I watched my glitched minions buy me precious time through computational confusion. "Thanks for the chaos."
I sprinted across the sand, enhanced stats driving me faster than any normal human could move. Behind me, the administrator's scan array purged my glitched minions. One by one, they dissolved into fragments of light and vanished.
Would I vanish the same way if I was hit?
[Entity Connection Lost: Steve (Double-Scorpion)]
[Entity Connection Lost: Vulture Pack (x3)]
[Administrative scan temporarily disrupted]
[System Status: Recalibrating analysis protocols]
{Scanning array: Offline for recalibration}
{Data corruption: Analysis buffers require cleanup}
{Estimated recovery: Monitoring resuming in extended cycle}
Steve and the vultures had bought me time, while the system dealt with the data mess they'd created. I moved quickly, putting distance between myself and the scanning zone while the administrators debugged their own tools.
The desert stretched endlessly, but I wasn't moving blind. I opened my map and jogged, squinting through the heat at scattered icons that marked settlements.
[Regional Map Accessed]
{
Points of Interest:
1.Kharis — Desert Village (2.3km SW)
2.Oasis Settlement (8.7km N)
3. Trading Post (12.4km E)
}
I decided to move to the nearest village, Kharis.
Two hours of steady jogging later, I finally reached Kharis village. It was tucked under this massive red monument that rose from the desert like someone had jammed a crimson skyscraper into the sand and called it architecture.
I'm panting, chest on fire. But there's smoke from chimneys—blessed civilization smoke. People with sun-weathered faces looking at me like I might be either a miracle or a problem.
I'd finally found people! Actual people… not some glitched entities or cosmic administrators having conference calls in the sky!
They were gathered by the well as I approached, faces weathered like the surrounding cliffs. An elderly man stepped forward, his robes bearing the same scorpion-and-star patterns as the buildings.
"Welcome, stranger. I am Hadeen, elder of Kharis." He gestured around us. "Not much to look at, but we endure."
"I need water," I said, holding up a gold coin. My voice carried more breathless enthusiasm than I meant to let slip. "I can pay."
His eyes widened at the gleam. Made sense—gold was probably rare enough here to represent a month's supplies.
"Bandits prowl the roads. Worms stir near the ruins. Trade died after the Skyfall." He studied me closer, taking in the fact that I'd just jogged out of deep desert on foot. "You came from the wasteland. That's... unusual."
"Yeah, well." I placed the coin on the well's edge. "Unusual times call for creative transportation."
The elder's gaze drifted toward the red monument without me asking about it. "That? Red Veil. Jagged scar in the desert, some say it marks a forgotten god's grave. Many avoid it."
I hadn't asked, but information was always useful. I filed it away and asked, "What's the Skyfall?"
His eyes went dark, like he was remembering something that still gave him nightmares. "What our ancestors warned of. Bright light fell from the sky, unlike anything seen before. Disasters always came after. Crops failed, rivers dried, sand worms grew restless." He shook his head. "We tell the story so children remember. So they don't forget skies can fall."
Then his weathered hands gripped the well's edge, and he kept talking like the words had been building pressure for years. "Iron Syndicate controls northern routes now. Growing bolder since the last caravan failed to reach Moth's Rest. They've made camp half a day's ride from here. Close enough we hear their night raids echoing across the dunes."
I hadn't asked about bandits either, but I got it. When you're stuck in a dying village and rarely see visitors, any new face becomes an excuse to unload everything weighing on your mind. Loneliness makes people overshare.
The coin disappeared into his robes with practiced speed. "Village doesn't have an inn, travelers. But old Mira has space in her storage room. Shabby, but better than open desert."
Hmm… a struggling community far enough from major settlements to avoid immediate administrative attention, but close enough to trade routes to matter if I could improve things. This could actually work.
I looked around at the mud-brick houses, the single well, the obvious poverty, and made a decision that would either save my life or get me deleted faster.
"How would you like to never worry about bandits again?"
The elder laughed, bitter and tired. "You're going to hire us a mercenary company with your gold, stranger?"
"Something like that."
I opened my creature scanning interface, sweeping for local wildlife. The desert was surprisingly active once you knew how to look for the right signatures.
[Entities Detected: Desert Chickens (Wild) x12, Sand Rats x23, Desert Lizards x8, Cactus Cats x3]
There they were. Twelve wild chickens scratching around behind the village, probably descendants of some long-dead farm. Scrawny things barely surviving on whatever they could forage in this wasteland.
But I'd learned something important from my ascended rooster: chickens had potential. Serious potential.
"Tell me," I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice, "how much for those wild chickens behind the grain stores?"
Hadeen blinked in confusion. "Those mangy birds? They're more like pests than livestocks. Feel free to take them if you want."
"I'll give you ten gold for them." I placed more coins in his palm, watching his expression shift from confusion to the kind of stunned disbelief that comes with sudden financial opportunity.
"And fifty more if you help me build something that'll change this village forever."
The elder stared at the gold, then looked up with the expression of a man wondering if desert sun had finally driven a stranger completely insane.
"What exactly are you planning to build, stranger?"
I looked around at the struggling settlement—the cracked mud bricks, the single well, the obvious signs of a community slowly dying as trade routes dried up. Then I grinned, because I could already see exactly how this was going to work.
"An inn. But not just any inn. The kind where travelers actually want to stop. Where caravans feel safe enough to rest for days instead of hours. Where people come from other settlements just to see what you've built."
"And the chickens?"
My grin widened. "The chickens are going to be your security system."
{Administrative status: Target temporarily obscured}
{Scan resumption: Pending system recovery}
The monitoring dragnet would reorganize and resume scanning, but now I had a plan, a location, and a flock of birds about to become the most dangerous poultry in the desert.
Time to see if I could build something impressive enough to change how the cosmic administrators viewed my activities. Sometimes the best defense against getting deleted is making yourself too valuable to lose.