PSI Stalkers and potential prisoner enslavement

[psiandco]

I had a bizzaro nightmare. totally Freudian, I know but...

...I was only a master Psychic character (8 sensitive powers) in RIFTS, somewhere near the top edge Northern California.
...I was being hunted and running for my life. I had the distinct impression that I had managed to flee grig leapers a week ago,
_I feared they'd caught my scent again. I was running as hard as I could, but my senses kept warning me of imminent life-threatening danger.
A Wild PSI Stalker shot me with a tranq rifle, and in less than one minute I was trying to drag myself across the rocky ground with my fingertips,
My strength failing me...
The Stalker flipped me onto my back and laughed at me as my eyes closed.

... I wake up. I am tied up. The Psi stalker is carrying me over one shoulder. She is giddy, excited, and close to bursting out with laughter.
... I have a cut across the outside of my left shoulder, the deltoid muscle. I wince groggily. I can sense the bandage taped over the wound.
... Hours pass. She's carried me back to the Roaming Psi-Stalker camp. Each vardo/wagon has a hanging MDC metal "birdcage" big enough
... to hold something 10 ft tall, by 5ft diameter.

... To the mocking laughter of the Psi-Stalkers, I am shoved into one such cage unceremoniously.
... I feel drained. weak. I still have some inner strength. I am mercifully still wearing clothes under the harsh sunlight.
... My gear is passed around to any of the Psi-Stalkers who want it. The cage is uncomfortable.
... I remove my duster. fold it up and use it as a cushion and try to meditate.
... I am a prisoner. More specifically, I am HER prisoner. By capturing me, she passed some sort of rite of passage.
... She had earned her adulthood and title of a hunter. She had most of my stuff. Day after day, one of the Stalkers would feed off me.
... Each day, I was growing weaker. sicker. She noticed the change in me as she'd often come to me demanding to know what this or that
... gizmo did. Not a hint of mercy. The other hunters capture prey too. All of us are miserable, wounded, and drained daily.
... My name is Ian. Her name is Sonja.

I ask her, "Please, may I have some water?"
Sonja, "After you tell me about this thing. What is it? how do I use it?" She holds out the black thermos-sized metal canister.
My lips are chapped and my voice hoarse, "It is a cryo-still. The main component is a compressor that forces air through a coil of pipes that tapper down to a fine point. The air blows out, but any water vapor in the air is collected in the base. The water is as clean as the air and refrigerated by the process. By the end of the day, you have water to drink. How much, also depends on the air."
Sonja, "That is a Good toy! The horses need water." She smiled at the cryo-still. She frowned at me, "How do I use it?"
My head fell low. I needed water, food, a better shelter than this cage, and I needed to have my injuries tended to. I dig inward and try to psychically connect to her empathy as I plead, "Please, I can't take much more of this. I am suffering. I hurt. Please,"-
The butt of her spear comes down on my head. Hard. Reflexively I try to coil up and get away from the savage beating that follows. Blow after blow, I think my ribs crack. My nose is bleeding from both nostrils. The fresh bruising added to my collection of feeding scars. Tears flow against my will. I am sucking in air through clenched teeth in painful gasps.

Sonja is incensed, her skin tinted red with rage, she roars at me spitting her words, "YOU NEVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN! NEVER TOUCH MY MIND, NEVER AGAIN!"
I realize I am going to die here. A prisoner inside this damn cage. Another shred of hope dies inside me.
Sonja finishes with, "How do I make it work?"

I have no choice, telling her is my only hope for getting any water at all. My guts want to tell her where she can shove the cryo-still, but I can't. I have gone two days without any water. I roll back to face her. I grip the bars and hold my face between my clenched fists. I hiss as I struggle to speak, "unroll the sheet solar panel and plug it in. The device will run as long as it has power or until the reservoir is full of water. if you open the drain, it will keep producing water as long as it has power".
I add begging, "please, water. please".
Sonja punches me straight in my face so hard I am thrown back against the far side of the cage. Blood flows from my split lips and nose. I say nothing else.

Sonja snarls at me, "you got my hands dirty"!
Her wrath is on the verge of beating me to death. Instead, she calls out to another psi-stalker and goes to speak with him. He's the one that she likes. He's the one with the rolled-up solar sheet...
I remove my tee-shirt and tear it into strips. I need bandages. I curl up on my side as best I can and this time when the tears come, I am crying.

[psiandco]

(OUT OF STORY)
Do they do that?
I mean, Psi-stalkers. Do they take prisoners to feed their whole camp, day after day, every day?

[psiandco]

(in story)
A few days later, I am barely hanging on. The sun is passed 2:00 or so. The Stalkers ring the wagons, putting all of the cages in the center in a circle. They are making camp here. as the hours pass Stalkers return from the hunt with freshly captured prey on their shoulders. I am in and out of consciousness. Darkness falls. I don't care. I can't keep track of time anymore. I awake to Sonja's jeering, "I bring you a present! a friend to cry with!"
A new 'Guest" is in the cage on the wagon next to me. She is pretty, long straight black hair, blue eyes, pale skin. She looks like a millennial with way too much money, and way too much of a "Hot topic" store addiction. A dozen charm bracelets on each arm, five different necklaces, and a black suede bustier with myriad straps, buckles, zippers, pockets, and dangly metal do-dads. Laced up combat boots that go up over her knees. A plaid mini-skirt. Cute fingerless gloves with short sleeves. A plastic hello kitty on the metal clip holding back her hair.

She whispers to me, "Hey! Hey! what the hell is all of this?"
I manage to answer, "you don't know"?
Her brow furrows in anger at me, but I can also sense her confusion and fear.
I start to tell her, "The year is something the folks around here call 112 P.A. we are in the northeastern California foothills".
She curses and pushes her fingers deep into her hair as if trying to crush her reality, the reality she knows back into her head. She sits on her haunches and draws her knees up to her chin.
She starts rocking back and forth quickly.
I ask, "when and where are you from"?
She says, "No. This can't be happening! I was at a Rave! this is gotta be X-Stacy or something. Someone gave me a mickey or something. this isn't real"!
I tell her, "It is real and yes, we are probably going to die in these cages".
She cries, "No! this can't be! what happened"?
I say, "My name is Ian. I got out of the military eager to use my G.I. Bill at an HVAC Trade school. Air conditioners, can you believe that? well, I have my hobbies. Prepping for disaster, Survivalist, Hiker, amateur archaeologist. My friend and I went Hiking and found an open lava tube. Like a pair of idiots we just started exploring the tunnel. No harness, climbing gear, no rope. We came into this natural chamber with four massive pillars of obsidian. The edges were thin like glass has somehow captured smoke. As we stood in the center of the chamber the pillars pulsed with a green light. I have no idea what it was. When me and my buddy came back outside"...
She pulled her hands down and glowered at me, her mascara starting to run with her tears. Her voice was choked with emotions; a dozen different ones all at once. She snapped, "What? You weren't in Kansas anymore"?

I nodded slowly. continuing calmly, "We were in this world, we didn't know where we were and there is no way back".
She said, "Fine! my name is clara. I was at a rave with some girlfriends. We'd dressed to the nines as goth chicks. We were off on the far edge of the stage. The crowd pressed forward to get to the stage, the band and the security trying to urge everybody to chill. The Lead singer Draq, he ran along the stage toward us, leapt out on to a speaker near by, and reached down to touch our hands. EVERYONE there was like SO JELLY, but because he was ignoring them they'd gotten the point. rushing the stage meant the show would be over for them if they didn't stop it. Draq jumped back to the stage. The show kept going even when the rain started. The concert was so hot with the press of bodies that nobody cared... then".
She stopped. I waited. She took a few deep shaky breaths and continued, "Lightning must have been drawn to the truss next to me supporting the stage lights and speakers, I... (she hesitated) I think I was struck by lightning".
Uncertainty filled her numb stare, "Did I die? is this hell?"
I shook my head no, saying at the same time, "No. you didn't die. You were somehow brought to this world. This world isn't hell. It is still earth, but from what I have learned this is where all the disappeared people go. Not the murders and runaways. I mean the weird and freaky stuff like the Bermuda triangle and things like that".
She asked me, "and there is no way home"?
I looked down, sighed, and silently shook my head no.

[psiandco]

To be continued..? if you want me to keep writing this story, give me a "YEAH"!

[taalismn]

Yeah!

Let's see how our 'Normals' get out of this lurch.

[psiandco]

Clara's hands moved to cover her face, I looked away. She needed time to process all of it. I certainly did. Then she stops to ask me the last question I want to answer.
Clara, "wait... You said you have a friend. is he here in one of these cages, or is he still out there"?
Ian, I look at my feet. The memories are so close. That loss is still so fresh and more horrific than I can bear.
Clara, "hey you! answer me!"
I raise my grim mug and look over at her.
Clara pauses, "yeah, I'm sorry. I forgot your name. Where is your friend"?
I tell her. I tell her everything, "About a week and a half ago. Rodger and I came out of that cave. we didn't notice anything different. We took a few Obsidian shards from the caves.
The trail was gone. it was gone. we still didn't understand, because... well, who would believe that they'd stumbled onto some kind of portal and been teleported to another world."
Clara nodded, "Yeah. like that kind of thing happens".
I continue, "My name is Ian. My friend's name was Rodger. We walked back along the geographic features that we recognized; That big boulder jutting up towards the sky here, the creek bank there, but the hiking trail was overgrown with Star Thistle. We started to freak out when we got the wayward oak. There was no campground. No ranger station. No parking lot. None of the wooden signs or fences. No sign of the elderly couple or their Recreational vehicle. RV. No sign of any cars. I was absolutely certain We were at the right spot. I had been Shooting azimuths with my compass the whole way out to the cave and all the way back. My pace count, a trick to use your walking stride like a measuring stick to see how far you've gone. Well, I'd counted out almost the same number of steps back to where the park should have been. The geology matched the terrain map. The compass had read right. Even the sun overhead and our shadows was showing the same time as my watch, roughly. Rodger kept cussing that we should never have left the trail. Yet the idea to explore the caves was his, ironically. that's when it finally dawned on me. we weren't lost, we'd gotten ourselves 411'd."
Clara asked, "what's that?"
Ian, "Huh?"
Clara asked, "four one one"?
Ian continued, "On the earth I am from, some guy who noticed all of the strangest disappearances involving national parks. there are books and documentaries."

[psiandco]

Clara said, "Oh, like one of those creepypasta videos. I think I have heard of it".
Ian leaned back a tight-lipped grin on his face, "Yeah. I had those on my earth too. It is a relief to find someone who might be from the same world".
Clara pressed me to get back on topic, she said, "well, what happened next?"
Ian said, "we tried to figure out what had happened to us. The land still showed signs of having been level where the roads were, but the only asphalt I found was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. We freaked out and went back to the cave. we stood in the middle and shouted at the Obsidian pillars, but there was no green flash. there was no going home. We tried everything, making fires, turning on all of our electronics, hitting the rocks with a taser, singing, wishing, praying"...
I sighed.
Clara said, "and nothing happened".
I answered her, "nothing.
I continued telling Clara my story, "We ruck marched along the creek knowing that that would take us back to the nearest town, only eighteen miles. Eighteen miles through a jungle with no GPS, cellphone signal, no roads, the clearest and easiest place to walk was the dry creek bed. We found traces of what was left of the place. The town wasn't like any town I had ever seen. It was ruined, but it was the ruins of an arcology. it was the remains of a central water tower and multiple vertical floors. The ground floor was fruit orchards and cattle ranches. The second floor had a vertical farm. We couldn't go any higher, but I'd counted ten floors based on the water treatment tower. It was like visiting the set of a sci-fi show. We couldn't believe it. That place must have provided enough food and water for hundreds of thousands, I was low ball estimating the population at one hundred thousand. From the second level, we spotted a small clump of shacks. We both figured that anything wood from our time had rotted away to dust, so those wood buildings had to mean one thing. They were made by people within the last century".
I pause for breath, my injuries hurting, but it felt really good to talk to someone else. someone who didn't cut me and drink my blood each and every day.
Clara was watching me, waiting to hear more.
The wry grin stays on my face as I get to the parts I dread telling.
I said, "We'd gotten down and gotten about 800 yards from the shacks when a giant bug leapt down on us from a broken pillar. Have you ever seen those alien movies?"
Clara said, "yeah".
I said, "it kind of looked like one of those. Rodger took out a hammer, a hatchet. I drew an entrenching tool. We fought for our lives. Nothing we tried, no matter how hard we'd swung, or how sharp the edge, everything bounced right off. We didn't even scratch it. All we got was tired. The damn thing was playing with us the entire time. With one claw swipe Rodger was dead, the thing paused to eat his entrails. I dropped my pack and ran while it was distracted with... eating. The creature wasn't about to let me get away, after a few more bites the thing turned around and chased after me. I was certain I was going to die. I made it into the first shack, everything seemed as if no one had touched anything for over a hundred years. The furniture had rotted from the damp, mold, and bugs. Somethings appeared battered like a metal filing cabinet. I found a corpse, all that was left was the skeleton. nearby was something in the filth that looked like a gun. I grabbed it. cleaned it off as best I could. There was a crash, and the monster was inside standing over me. I pulled the trigger a dozen times with the gun muzzle under its head. Blast after Blast, the damn beast just took it. My shots had been burrowing through its head though, I got lucky that I could hit the exact same spot over and over. The last shot killed it."
Clara said, "I'm sorry Ian. I didn't know. I was hoping your friend was going to come to rescue us".
I said, "it is the past. Rodger was a good guy, and he didn't deserve that. I scrounged what I could from the shacks, buried his remains, and went south along the creek and got to the river. That's where I got captured. I think I have been in this cage for almost a month now, maybe more. I can't be sure".
I had finished telling my tale.
Clara said, "you think we are on our earth, but in the future or do you think we are in a different dimension?"
I told her the truth, I said, "I do not know. where you are from who was the president"?
Clara said, "That old senile white guy".
I told her, "That was who was president on my earth too".

[psiandco]

To be continued.

[Hotrod]

I do love me some good Rifts fiction. Please do continue!

[psiandco]

I said, "I remember passing out, what happened"?
An Elderly bald man said, "Your Keeper forgot to care for you. no food, no water, again. I have tended to you".
_...Suddenly, Sonja pushed the cloth curtain aside as she said, "Back to your cage"!
The Elderly healer held a hand up to Sonja, "You've hunted well. You have found more of the lost ones. It is important to keep them alive. It is important to care for them. When your captives are starving, dying from thirst, they will have much less mana for us to feed on".
_...Sonja said, "Ha. Live, Die. among us they will live for far longer than they would on their own. Feh. We will have mana, no matter. I can always hunt more".
The healer said, "I have had to give this one an I.V. and intravenous liquid food. We have precious few supplies. Those supplies come at a great cost, for they are precious and few. I tell you this, do not make the mistake of the ancients. it was their downfall".
_...Sonja scoffed visibly, "There ancients were fools to believe that fossil fuel would last forever. That was only one of the many dangers they kept ignoring and hoping the future would somehow solve. What danger am I ignoring old man"?
The healer said, "Pride".
_...Sonja made a snarling face as she drew in a deep breath.
The Healer held up his hand again, "This one will not be healed if you ignore his needs again. I will allow him to die".
_...Sonja snatched me by the bicep and dragged me out of the bed, I stumbled to catch myself but fell anyway. She Angrily dragged me behind her like a child would a rag doll.
**
Back in my cage.
**
Sonja fussed like a Drill Seargent with a really bad case of 'roid rage, "I will give you and that one (pointing at Clara) a canteen to drink from. I will fill the canteens with water from my toy. I will hunt meat for you to"... Her eyes rolled as she tried to remember the strange word.
_ ... I said, "the word is Eat. We need food and it has to be Cooked".
Sonja threatened me by shaking her spear, "I don't care. You will eat what I give you and be glad that you have, eat". She paused uncertainly about how to revise the word for future tense. The strange word meant nothing to her, Ian noted. Sonja turned and stormed off. After a few paces, Ian could have sworn he heard her trying the word "Cook" like a child singsong singing a new favorite word.
_... Ian looked over to Clara and said, "We are so dead".
Clara shrugged and nursed a black eye.
_... Clara said, " I asked to be let out to go to the bathroom. She beat me".
Ian looked down, "Oh Clara. I am sorry".
_... Clara lowered her hands, her eyes full of anger, "You don't have to be sorry. That ***** and these... cannibals' treat people like food. We have to get out of here."
Ian Sighed, "I agree. I heard them say they are Stalkers." I used the hand gesture for Quotation marks before continuing, "I have never seen them cook any food. The words, eat and cook are alien concepts to them. It seems that the cuts they give us"... I paused to turn my head away a look of disgust on my face, "sustain them. We are their Food". I used quotation marks again.
_... Clara said, "I do not want to die in this or any other cage. We need a plan".
Ian felt ashamed, "I've tried to run. The camp has a ring of guards. Every day the hunters go out and bring back creatures. I don't know if you are going to laugh at me about this, but"-
_...Clara used a flat voice and stared through half-closed eyes, she said, "what is it"?
Ian said, "They are psychic. They can find us anywhere we go. We can't escape".
_...Clara tilted her head, the shift of her falling hair would shield her eyes from the sunlight. She thought about what I had said, and she said, "Men who stare at goats... hmm. So it was based on a true story after all. I have a question. Is this what all humans are like now"?
Ian said, "No. They stopped at a very small village and traded with them. There are normal people in this world".
_...Clara nodded, "Okay. when we reach the next village we try to escape okay"?
Ian nodded his agreement, Starving, dying of thirst, left him weak. Ian said, "We have no choice. We either find a way to escape, or we will die in these cages".
***
Just as Ian finished his words the healer came out of the shadows between the two wagons surprising both of the captives.
The Healer said, "Say nothing of this and do not dwell upon my words. When the time comes, I will help you flee". The healer left the way he had come.
Ian put on his duster and lay curled up on one side.
Clara did similar, bringing their heads closer together.

[psiandco]

The psi-stalker point guard did not sense anything supernatural, He did not sense any evil, he did not sense any magic, he did not sense any psychic power.
He paused in his watch to flex his knees, he practiced his spear fighting techniques, and he thought about the "taste" of mana (*for the reader, this guard was daydreaming about his lunch).
Sonja had hunted well, she had found not one, but two of the lost ones. it was possible for him to gain rank, to change his station. He imagined a particularly stupid Mage stumbling through the wild and collapsing at his feet. The guard chuckled at this. Stalkers know the wild. Stalkers live in the wild. We hunt the monsters who would hunt us. He stood straighter as the lessons crossed his mind's eye. Stalkers are the best! Stalkers have little history from the age of ruin. That was when stalkers became what they are! Other peoples like the cactus people, grackles, and even puny soft normans; None were so prepared to meet the NEW WORLD head-on as the stalkers. A world of danger, a world of ruin, a world of monsters, a world of magic, a world of the RIFTS.
**
The point guard was now at the top of the circle. He was next to be chosen to go on a hunt. One more season, maybe two... and he would no doubt seize hold of a mage. A mage with so much mana that everyone in the tribe would be filled every time he did the cut. It was a good dream. Now, if he could just capture a few mages, the tribe would never feel emptiness again.
Emptiness, he was feeling it. He'd been allowed to take the cut from Sonja's captured norman man. BLEH! That norman's mana was so little and tough. It was like, the man had to be a psychic. psychics have even less mana than other normans. (*Norman is a contracted two-word slang term this tribe of Stalkers use to refer to "Normal humans").
Sonja's norman girl, now she was a feast! Her mana flowed so sweetly. A stalker would be filled for a week with just one cut! The point guard mused about cutting the woman, how the mana flowed and the... savor. She claimed that she didn't know any magic, but she dressed like a witch and had mana like a witch. Surely, she must be a witch!
**
The point guard pondered much, most about filling with the mana. The breeze shifted leaves and branches. He did not care. He did not sense anything supernatural, magical, psychic, or evil. Hours had passed and all of the things he'd think about while guarding had run their course. The same on any trek through the wild and more of the same every time he stood guard. The Stalker, an impatient young man, didn't notice a small hill shift upwards and creep closer. He didn't notice the new smell. He ignored the urgent warning from his subconscious mind, his sixth sense. This was all so, boring. He wished something would happen...
The tip of a large wet tongue slapped against his right shin and stuck fast, it began to pull the guard with such force, such speed. The "Hill" the stalker had ignored "stood up" to its full height. The guard thumbed the catch on his spear, activating the vibro-blade at the tip. The beast had him, but soon he would have the beast!

Clara and Ian had heard the scream. They watched as confusion spread through the camp. Stalker mothers gathered up stalker children and locked themselves into vardo wagons. Stalker men jumped up grabbed a pull-up bar and plunged feet first into suits of armor hanging on the outside of the wagons. The futuristic armor closed over their backs, latches clicked, and cam-locks turned drawing the back and front halves of the armor into a space-worthy environmental seal. They took weapons from hooks under the wagon roof edges. A few like ordinary combat rifles, others more exotic looking, and many seemed like artistic sculptures than weapons. Soon they all ran to the front. External speaker amplified cries rang out, that even the prisoners could hear.
Ian Shifted about inside his cage muttering aloud, "what in the hell is a Spiny Ravager"?
Clara drew her hair clip and stabbed the opening of the crude lock on her cage, She felt the single iron tumbler roll over as she twisted the metal strip. She pushed her cage door open and jumped out, landing with an audible thud. Clara realized that she'd been locked up for so long that her legs didn't immediately work right. She grunted and went to Ian's cage.
Ian turned to see Clara already standing at the door to his cage. The sight of her being so close, and free had startled him. He gasped a "Wha-"?
Clara jimmied the lock open, "Come on. we need to run."
Ian jumped out of his cage, eagerly inhaling freedom.
The Old healer beckoned them with a curling gesture to come to Sonja's and her new "husband's" vardo. He had Ian's trail pack and a smaller leather pack.
The healer said nothing and answered no questions, but he extended his arm in one direction away from the camp. The two escaped prisoners grabbed the bags, put them on and ran.

[psiandco]

The healer did the unthinkable. He went to each of the cages and opened them. One enormous lizardman gave the healer thanks by ripping the old man's throat open with its claws.
Then it too went to the eaves of a wagon and claimed his weapons before fleeing.

[psiandco]

to be continued...

[psiandco]

The hunters range as far as 12 miles. On rare occasions when they fail to find something and the camp is growing desperate, they go as far as 16 miles. At a pace of 4 miles per hour, this meant the hunters would be gone for 6 to 8 hours.
The spinny ravager attack was mid-morning. The hunters would be as much as 8 miles away from the camp. Even if their psychic powers alerted them to the attack, it would take 2 hours to get back.
Clara and Ian. Would have at best a 2 hour head start.
Weary, starved, thirsty, and battered they ran.
It was fortunate that the camp guards abandoned their posts to fight the monster. The impossible had happened.
The old healer had sympathized with the plight of the captives.
The ring of guards were nowhere to be found.
The hunters had gone West, as the escaped prisoners fled East.
Ian stumbled and fell again. Clara lifted him and gasped, "we need to rest, to eat something, to drink some water. We have to"!
Ian gritted his teeth, " I am sorry. I can't go any further, but if we rest for too long that Bi*** will catch us". Both knew that would be a fate worse than death.
They sat on a log and dug into their packs. Ian smiled, "Sonja had traded cuts on us, to get back all of my things. We have a much better chance of survival".
Ian drank deeply from his canteen.
Clara lifted out a leather pouch and opened it, "seeds".
She drew out the next and stared at the thick brown bricks, she drew one out and tasted it, "I am not sure, but I think this is unleven bread".
Ian passed Clara the canteen and took one of the palm sized bread bricks. It was hard, bland, and crunchy. He didn't care, to him it was ambrosia. The brick was so tough it had to be nibbled at, but Ian had swallowed the last of his in seconds!
He groaned quietly with the pleasure of a full belly. He wanted to lie down and rest while he digested the food, but he didn't dare. He stuffed things back in to his pack, but stuffed the laser pistol into his pants thigh cargo pocket. When he stood up, Clara stood too, meeting his gaze.
She said, "I don't think we should keep sprinting as far and fast as we can. I think we should hustle instead, you know" ?
Ian gritted his teeth, "we can't let them catch us, but yeah... I'm too hurt to keep running like we have".
They pivoted together and run-walked briskly, "I just hope that they don't chase us down on horseback" Ian said.

[psiandco]

I NEED TO ASK YOU!
I am working on this... letting my brain spill from some stream of consciousness, but I want to ask you the reader; is there something you want to be changed?
For example, this small northern California tribe of Psi-stalkers. They have never eaten anything outside of the blood drawn by "the cut". This abstinence from any food is *By the book* impossible. As I have currently written this story, the "Tribe of the brown bear" has not eaten food for so long that the VAST MAJORITY of the tribe does not know the words eat or cook.
1) are they just the one tribe with the true miracle of "indelia" (*never needs to eat or drink) or should I change that back to the cannon?
2) The timeline of this story is "janky" it doesn't smell right. Ian says he was captured about a week and a half after coming to rifts earth, then says he has been a prisoner for almost two months, then says that Clara is brought to the camp shortly after he was, but based on the "black eye - bathroom request" incident Clara had been on Rifts earth for less than a day and didn't know that Sonja was going to react with violence towards her prisoners...

A. would you want me to change the stalkers back into "CANNON" stalkers?
B. Do you want me to unf- Truck the timeline?
C. Clara doesn't know that she has the potential to become some form of mage, Ian has very little experience and little control over his psychic gifts... Should I change that?
D. Should I add the Lizardman D-bee to the group or Should I add another character to the group? it is your choice!
E. Do you want the main characters to learn more about Rifts earth through an "Exposition device" such as an ancient laptop that Ian found at "the shacks", as he seems to have already learned of the P.A. calendar and such from somewhere?

What are your thoughts? what would you want to be changed?

The story will BE CONTINUED....

[psiandco]

Clara and Ian hustled in the direction the healer had extended his arm.
Ian said, "I think I know why the healer had instructed us to not speak about or dwell upon his words. He was trying to hide his actions from the psychic powers of the others".
Clara said, "Well that was nice of him. Still, I have no idea how any of that stuff works. You could say that I'm about as mystical as a box of corn flakes".
Ian nodded and he said, "I don't know much, but since I arrived in this world I've been getting strange thoughts, feelings, sensations. Glimpses that warned me of danger."
Clara giggled, saying, "So, you think you are psychic now"?
Ian said, "I don't know. it is all so very strange."
Clara said, "since I got here, the stalkers kept saying that I had mana like a witch".
Ian paused and asked, "Well, are you"?
Clara looked over her shoulder at him incredulous, "No. that's ridiculous. I've seen those kinds of people though. trying out cashier aisle store-shelf Wicca, buying books of Spells (She gave the quotations gesture) written by delusional nutcases, tarot cards, crystals, and herb kits from online stores no less. I really don't think you can learn any magic just by spending money to collect all the recommended junk. I don't think real magic should be reduced to a fad or a phase of childhood. There has to be more to it. It has to have meaning. it has to be personal. I mean, shouldn't it? Bah, it doesn't matter anyway. For your knowledge, No. I am not a witch".
Ian smiled and said, "Phew! I am so glad you aren't one of those! Hey, we've been going for another four hours of run-walking. I think we should take a break, how about you"?
Clara gestured to the ground, "No. Not here. I think we should try just over there".
Clara pointed to a terrace about eight hundred yards ahead and one hundred up the slope.
**
Since their escape, they'd gone east and hiked up from the foothills to the foot of the mountains. They'd crossed a stream about two days back and kept crossing it as the stream meandered along its snaking path down to the valley. They were heading up and out of California. They didn't know it, but they were following what was left of a highway that ran from Fall River Mills to Cedarville. They haven't reached Cedarville yet. If they live to reach Nevada, they have about 200 miles of untamed wilderness to cross before they reach Winnemucca.
**
As always, the distance had been deceptive. The Terrace had been much farther than Ian had initially thought it was. He huffed as he clambered up a damp clay slope, the soreness in his legs screamed at him to stop but he couldn't, not yet. He saw Clara 50 yards ahead of him standing still as if transfixed. He picked up his pace and jogged over to her.
Clara said, "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful"?
Ian turned from looking at her to look where Clara was staring. Lush Dark Green ivy grew along the ground, broken by patches of pine needles and the blood-red of manzanita bushes, a stand of pine trees, and a small pond. The pond was dark but clear as glass. it was part of the stream they'd been following as a portion of the pond flowed over a bank and rejoined the stream. Above them both a waterfall fell from a rock outcropping. The breeze was soft. He inhaled the sharp smell of pine and the rich smell of earth he could hear the waterfall standing here, but not back there. Something he'd ponder later. Ian's gaze found what had Clara so entranced, a doe and two fawns. Deer. Ian nodded. They are beautiful. He didn't want to disturb the deer, so he walked away with Clara following him. They followed a wide circle that brought them to the shore of the pond. The Deer raised their heads and looked at the two travelers. The Deer was leery of them, but with the pond between them, the animals saw no reason to run, yet.
Clara dropped her pack and said, "Turn around! Don't look at me! Don't peek!"
Ian stood stupidly not getting what was happening.
Clara removed her Thigh high combat Boots, and said, "I am going to take a bath"!
Ian turned around and shut his mouth. He set down his bag and drank from his canteen slowly. He unrolled the solar sheet and plugged in the electronics; Cellphones had no service, but they made for great flashlights and had the night vision feature. He didn't plug in the cryo-still as there was plenty of fresh water here. He plugged in the laptop he'd found at the shacks under the archology where Rodger had been killed. He'd been dying to see what was on it all this time, but couldn't due to his captivity. When he heard the splash and the excited squeal, he turned about to check on Clara.
Clara said to him, "It's freezing"!
Ian smiled at her, "I'll wait for my turn to take a bath. He drew a ration roll from his bag.
Clara shouted at him, "Nu-uh! mister! You need to take a bath! Don't eat yet! Get in the water over there"!
Ian acknowledged he was rank, ripe, funky, odorific, and profoundly disgusting. He set down his things and walked to the spot she had pointed at.
Ian began to disrobe and folded his clothes neatly. he said, "don't look. no peeking"!
Clara screwed her face up and said, "as if"...
Ian walked into the frigid water and sat when he'd gotten deep enough. He began to scrub as best he could.
A few minutes later a wet slap landed on his back, Clara wrapped her arms about his chest.
Ian shook like a startled stallion, He didn't know why his back was so sensitive and couldn't hide his flinch at her contact.
Clara laughed, then paused seeing Ian was hurting, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to play a little bit. I wanted to forget this whole month".
She started to slide away, Ian gripped her forearms, "Please stay for a moment. I..."
He was at a loss for words. How do you describe the feeling of a decade of being ignored, of constant rejection? All he'd wanted was basic human contact, a friendship, the intimacy of dating, holding hands, and maybe more. So he just said "it".
Ian started, "I've been alone for a very long time. Lost and tortured since I got here. You are the first to touch me"...
Clara understood, and Ian relaxed his grip She drew her arms away from him. Ian trembled sightly; she still leaned her chest against his back and watched his face from over one shoulder.
Ian said, "to treat me like a human being" he finally managed to say quietly.
Clara said, "I'm sorry". she meant it.
She'd always been a free-spirit and boys were always so aggressive, so forward, unable to stop disgusting words from coming out of their mouths just because she was there. She'd gone too far and teased a complete stranger, she'd somehow hurt him. That drive, that urge, that made boys unbearable, pent up for years...
Clara moved away from him and Ian let her go.
Clara dressed in silence, as Ian stayed in the water, She said, "Okay. I'm decent."
She stood up and went to her bag, she drew out a mason jar and ate a few dehydrated apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon.
Ian had dressed, packed away his things and lifted his bag onto one shoulder, "Clara, I am sorry if I hurt your feelings".
Clara closed the Jar lid and set the wire hasp. She warped the jar in a leather rag and put it away. She stood lifting her bag as well.
Clara said, "You didn't hurt my feelings. I just lost myself in a moment".
Ian said, "Okay".
They started walking again.

[psiandco]

Ian said, "I have this laptop I found after Rodger died. It may have information we need" .
Clara said, "that sounds interesting. I hope it helps us" .
Ian said, "knowledge is power".
Clara asked, "do you think that Sonja and those stalkers are still after us"?
Ian paused for a moment, "no... If they wanted us back, they could have hunted us down mounted on horseback. Something must have happened after we left. They would have had us within hours".
Clara said, "good. I hope that monster killed every last one of them" .
Ian smiled, "I don't miss them at all. I hope we never see another stalker for the rest of our lives" .
Clara stopped and stared down at her feet, "we really are stuck here. I will never see my family, my friends, again" .
Ian paused for breath, "they are long gone. We never got to say goodbye. We never had that chance" ...
Clara said, "I can't, ian, I "
Ian opened his arms the same grief etched in his face. Clara crashed against him and cried. Ian cried too.
Ian growled in hopeless rage, he said, "we have our memories. We need to keep going, we can't stay here. You can keep crying if you must, but hold on to me and walk with me" .
Ian struggled with all of his emotions, it really was incomprehensible and ineffable. It was cruelty beyond measure. Ian knew that if he was alone he would be lost to the insanity of it all. Ian was trying to be strong for Clara's sake. It was best to grieve all they had lost, to express those emotions, to feel the pain, share the horrible understanding, they had to... Or they would go insane.
They walked slowly and cried together.
A frightening animal cry brought the two "temporal orphans" back to their senses. Ian and Clara hastened their pace again, they didn't want to camp anywhere near that noise.
Clara said, "I lied, a little bit".
Ian paused a look of confusion on his face, he said, "what do you mean" ?
Clara said, "I am not a witch... But I did used to play that dungeon game, you know, role playing games" ?
Ian smiled at her admission and said, "me too. Go ahead, tell me about your characters" .

[alphayash]

trying to post a reply.. can't see it.. any glitch in the forum?

[psiandco]

As they walked, the sun appeared to be setting much earlier than it should. The effect caused by the mountain peak. They would have to find a safe place to build a shelter for the night or keep going through the night. Ian believed that it would be much more dangerous to travel at night.
Ian said, "The light from our cameras can be seen from very far away, much farther than I'd care to imagine. If there are more of them Grigg leapers or Spiny Ravagers out there, we don't want them to know where we are".
Clara said, "thank goodness we were finally able to wash off our scent then! You smelled like an Alfredo Spinach feta cheese pizza with a garlic butter crust"!
Ian said, "oh really?" He shook his head, "I'm trying to be serious".
Clara lightly punched his bicep as she said, "I know that - I was just joking. You are right in a way. There is no Safe place out here. we do have to think about every last thing we do, because one mistake could be our last".
Ian nodded vigorously, he said, "You get it! Situational awareness, is what the Army called it. You had to use all of your senses and judgement, because I.E.D.'s could be anywhere. You had to look for things like Kill-boxes and traps. The first clue to spotting a Kill-box is spotting where an enemy could hide but still keep watch on anyone who came this way".
Clara said, "Stop wait! what is a kill-box? What is an I.E.D."?
Ian said, "Sorry, I got carried away. I'm a fanboy of military tactics and being better trained", Ian paused, "Ahem! a kill-box is the imaginary borders of an area that can be used readily spot intruders and to effectively ambush those intruders. An I.E.D. is an improvised explosive device. The bad guys I had to fight designed shaped charges that could blast and set fire to any vehicle that approached a stop sign. They also had secondary explosives to kill anyone who came to rescue the injured".
Clara said, "That's evil. One time I played paintball for a whole month as part of a corporate teamwork exercise. We didn't have words for anything or any special moves. Still, I do get what you are saying".
Ian was flummoxed, he gasped, "What job would pay you to play paintball for a month!?!" His shock and jealousy very evident... written all over his face.
Clara said, "Dough'n'joe. they wanted to retain employees with hip and fun challenges".
Ian looked like a kicked puppy.
Ian said, "... a coffee hut?..."
Clara's smile got wider as she nodded and said, "YUP"!
**
They found a ledge with no visible traces of animal habitation. The 3-4" diameter saplings were easy to cut and after two hours of work Ian had built a Floor and wall for the cave underneath it. Clara gathered stones and Ian shoveled up clay to make mud for a tiny fireplace and chimney. Inside the little "hobbit hole" shelter, a very small fire burned. They ate, drank, popped blisters and bandaged the sores. They checked each other for parasites. (Having once found three ticks climbing on Ian's trousers was enough for Clara to make the ritual "Bug-check" mandatory, even overcoming her modesty. It was a clear choice, Let him see your back, neck and armpits... or risk having those sneaky tiny vampire bugs "attached" to her skin). All the safety checks and taking care of themselves attended to, the two unrolled their sleeping gear. Clara's cloth blanket and Ian's sleeping bag. As was customary, they traded bedding. Clara zipped herself up inside the protective cocoon, and Ian kept his hands to himself.
**
Ian drew out the laptop dialed the volume down from the max of 100 to 10 and turned it on for the first time. The device didn't have a password or other barrier to using it. Ian had figured the story was something like this. About 100 years ago, a fairly large group of apocalypse survivors stumbled on the arcology and scavenged it for their own survival. Their farms, their ranches, their fresh water. They brought down to their shacks everything of value that they had found. They had experts who removed the password barrier and fixed all the tech they found and had. Then a large number of those Grigg leapers attacked. it was a blood bath, that much was certain. Ian didn't know if any of those people escaped, he hoped they did. The one that Ian and Rodger had fought must have been wounded, and it hibernated to recover. The other giant bugs left when there were no more warm bodies remaining. The wounded one stayed asleep until Rodger and I passed too close and woke it up. The reason it was much slower than others of its kind was three-fold; old age, injury, and recovering from hibernation. Ian believed that a young swarm of those Grigg Leapers could strip bare all of the ranches in the state of California and noted that they probably had. Ian hadn't seen a single cow, goat, sheep, alpaca, llama, (heck!) not even chickens, since he arrived in this world. Bug populations don't do "ecological sustainability", it takes a human to think about consequences, a sapient mind to read, study, investigate and think about the future. "I digress" Ian thought to himself as he began checking through each app, each utility, each program, and the files.

[psiandco]

to be continued...

[psiandco]

Ian moved the cursor down to the task bar at the bottom of the screen, he started at the far right side, the clock calendar.
He vanished from his earth in 2022, the Calendar showed the current year... around 400 hundred years!
(*I am guessing here because I really do not know. Regardless, computers keep time quite well. with the apocalypse in 2096-2022= 74, with an over 200 year dark age= 274, with the P.A. calendar starting 112 years ago, 112+274= 386. Plus or minus some, I do not know).
Ian checked the other symbols along the bottom row.
No bluetooth, No Wifi, No Starlink. Voice control was off, the camera was off,
The local news widget popped up showing the last news sent to the app. it read,
"2096, the end of the world".
Ian read the ancient lost news articles and wept. the world had reached almost 15 billion in global population. Technological advancement had ensured fantastic wealth for every human being on the planet. A post scarcity world. Asteroid mining brought a trillion tons of fresh minerals and materials to earth (vitamin and Mineral rich top soil from [echo effect] SSSPPPPAAACCCCCEEEEEE!). The environment had been saved. Even in America Corrupt political dynasties were at last executed for treason. Oligarchies had fallen and suppressed technologies transformed society. Walnut sized sonoluminescence power generators were as popular as AA batteries in his lifetime. With nearly unlimited energy, tools, and resources, Humanity turned its focus to growing a global population over one trillion, self-perfection and expanding into the solar system. Ian shook his head. It was like reading a fantasy. everything was so perfect!
Then, just as suddenly it wasn't.
War. the last world war had broken out and it turned out Einstein was right, "I do not know the weapons the third world war will be fought with, but I do know that the fourth world war will be fought with sticks and stones".
**
The Moon colonies were self-sufficient but sending terrifying messages back to earth as the apocalypse was affecting it and the mars installations too. then nothing else. nothing else was sent to this app.

Ian tried to process the loss. His favorite dishes at the nearby Yoshi's grill didn't exist anymore. Gyoza? gone. Vegetable tempura? gone. His favorite udon beef bowls with Soba noodles? Gone. No more Chinese either. Egg fu yun, egg drop soup, all gone. He'd never gotten to learn to cook those dishes and now he had no hope to. Ian didn't know what a "Buckwheat" was or what one even looked like!
Ian an Clara had subsisted on nuts and dehydrated fruits found in north California, and bricks of raw flour.
Hard tack. unleven bread. No yeast, no baking soda, no sugar, no salt, nothing added. Just a gob of flour and water, burned until brick.
Ian shook himself out his doldrums. He returned to exploring the laptop.
**
The laptop was ruggedized and double faraday'd, this had at one time been a military field computer. You could cook it in a microwave oven, hit it with a bolt of lightning, shoot at it with a .50 cal and it would still work just fine! Ian looked at the laptop wide eyed and whispered to himself a nonsense word, "incaliba"...
There were massive folders of content downloaded from the internet; one folder was devoted to Porn obviously, Ian deleted it and the machine actually took a full minute to do the deed. Given the outrageous speed this laptop had, Ian shuddered, when he looked again at the system information an entire EXABYTE of space appeared on the hard drive.
Ian sighed with relief when he found digital libraries devoted to education from preschool out to PHd and beyond for 200 different career fields, and a "prepper" library devoted to "The Knowledge- rebuilding after the apocalypse", a vault of bush-crafting, "the Lost ways", and primitive technology. Medical science extending well into cellular organelle functions and treatments for diseases related to those miraculous molecular machines, a science of proteins, and a massive library of genetic science and technology. The folder on agriculture, livestock, and veterinary medicine was just as advanced. Every branch of science, technology, and philosophy was here measured in terabytes of 2-d low def 480p resolution videos.
All of the knowledge was labeled correctly, sorted, and indexed. nothing was duplicated.
(*Ian reasoned that this had been a feat of a nearly god-like A.I. librarian)
With all of this knowledge, Ian and Clara could do almost anything... it might be possible to re-build the world from scratch! (*this time, we could try to avoid all of humanities mistakes)
That was neither here nor there now...
Ian ran a search, found the entertainment library and after a search he found the "to be continued" episode he'd never been able to see...
He finally watched it.

[psiandco]

Shall I continue? give me a yeah.
do you want me to change something, tell me.
Peace.

[psiandco]

They were at the pond. Ian and Clara. only this time, Ian had spun around and caught her as she landed against his body. Clara's cute underbite tight v jawline opened wide with childish surprise. Ian said, "Now you're gonna get it"!
They started kissing. Clara kept caressing him passing her arms back and forth across his back, over his shoulders and back. Her legs wrapped about his waist, behind him her feet did the same; touch, pass and slide. Ian drew back from the passionate kissing to breathe and stared at her. Clara's hair fell off the back of her head like a wig, Her ears were small and tapered to a sharp point. Clara's smile twisted into a scowl full of sharpened fangs. She wasn't Clara anymore...
Sonja held him. The freedom of swimming in the pond was replaced by a feeling of lying in a wet hammock. The strings and chords of the wet hammock stretched and bounced as he tried to get away. He couldn't. He was stuck fast. Sonja suddenly had no neck, her head fused with her shoulders. Her strong arms split into three pairs of thinner, longer, narrower arms. Her skin became translucent with blotches of light brown scattered over the egg shell white. Long sharp hairs poked at ian as all eight limbs kept doing the crazy weaving motions around his body.
Ian tried to scream but the Sonja face kissed him again.
Then her jaw split open and stretched, yawning wide. A pair of scythe like fangs unfurled from under her tongue. Sonja's tongue flagellated as if laughing at him. Ian stared into a tunnel of red wet meat with a spiral of black rose thorn hooks leading down and into that mucus dripping death. Ian heard a loud snap, like a hand slipped off a spring-loaded clipboard. Sonja's fangs had stabbed into his neck from either side and dragged through the flesh and sinews like a knife through putty. Blood vessels sheared, his esophagus and trachea blew bloody bubbles.
A pair of pedipalps gently gripped his head at the temples. A second Snap and Ian knew he'd been decapitated. He asked in shock, "Why aren't I dead?" and a video documentary about the French revolution reminded him that severed heads could sometimes stay alive and aware for as much as four minutes.
The jaw closed and Sonja's face stared at him with that cold hate, the hate she had for prey...
The jaws opened again, this time the fangs and pedipalps forced his head into that wet red hole.
Everything went black.

Clara was yelling, shaking, and slapping him, "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! THEY ARE COMING"!
Ian gasped in horror and struggled to right himself, but the blanket was twisted around him so tightly! He thrashed and managed to free his arm. Woofing, Ian shoved Clara back and got free of the blanket. In wild eyed terror he asked the only question that managed to emerge from his sleep fogged brain, "What in the H"--?
They had to get out of there fast. Ian shoved everything into his bag. He dressed as quickly as he could, and met Clara outside the improvised shelter.
Ian looked to where Clara was pointing. It was still far away, but a horse team pulled what could only be one of the Stalker's Vardo.
Ian whispered, "We are out of here, Now!"

The two began running up the slope as fast as they could.

[psiandco]

Shall I continue? give me a yeah.
do you want me to change something, tell me.
Peace.

[psiandco]

No takers? No interest?
Where did I go wrong?

How did I ruin the story for you?
How can I do better?
I want to be a better writer...

Lay it on me. Give me your criticism. Don't hold back!

[Hotrod]

I had a bizzaro nightmare. totally Freudian, I know but...

You asked for feedback in another thread, so I thought I'd offer some constructive criticism. Overall, I like the premise of being the victim of a psi-stalker and presenting that perspective. I also think it would be a good idea to push on and tell the story you want to tell before you go back and make a lot of revisions. When you get to a point where you want to make revisions, here are some thoughts for the start of this story:

The best writing advice I’ve ever heard is “show, don’t tell.” Most good writing advice I’ve seen is related in some way to this adage. Let’s apply this to your story’s opening.

Your opening sentence is telling us that you’re about to describe a bizzarro, Freudian nightmare. You then go in and start showing us that nightmare. Why start by telling us that summary? If you want to set up the story as some kind of nightmare from which you eventually wake up, consider describing how how your body expresses your feelings about that nightmare as you begin to recall it (sweating, shakes, goosebumps). Or maybe describe the opening scene as you going to visit a psychologist or someone.

Also consider what you are trying to convey, and how you are trying to catch the reader’s attention with that opening. As written, this sounds like you’re about to tell us about a dream by saying, “it’s just a dream and it’s over.” This has the effect of lessening the stakes/impact of your introduction.

In your opening lines, you use some terms from the game like “master Psychic character (8 sensitive powers),” “RIFTS,” and “Wild PSI Stalker.” When you’re writing RPG-based fiction, especially fiction written in the first person, it’s jarring to read game terms because people don’t generally think about themselves or others that way.

You then go immediately into running for your life and a series of single-line paragraphs with a “…” at the start of each. This conveys a sense of flashes, a kind of montage sequence, and in doing so, I think you’re missing an opportunity to tell an exciting chase sequence that better introduces your narrative character. This is something like 16 very short flashes in a row, and it feels jarring to read. If you want to use this narrative device, consider interspersing no more than three flashes in a row between narrative paragraphs.

The paragraphs also do a lot of telling vs showing. Consider using examples to demonstrate what you’re telling us, or focus on sense of how something feels, or physical symptoms of a character’s emotions.

The dialogue with Sonja is pretty good. Frankly, I think the opening post would be much improved if you started with that and cut most of what comes before it.

On a petty note, “water from the air” or “self-filling water bottle” devices are scams. Dehumidifiers are a comically inefficient way to collect water, because they’re effectively boiling water in reverse, a process that requires a lot of energy (like 100 times as much as just pushing dirty water through a filter/membrane). Since this is a science fiction setting, this is a minor gripe, but as an engineer who’s had to deal with people blowing real money on that crap, it’s a pet peeve for me. The notion of watering a horse with such a device is silly.

[Hotrod]

(OUT OF STORY)
Do they do that?
I mean, Psi-stalkers. Do they take prisoners to feed their whole camp, day after day, every day?

This seems quite plausible to me, though they would likely take some precautions that you haven't described. As an example, if a prisoner used a psionic power, the response would be to drain that psychic dry of I.S.P.; maybe the prisoner would get beaten for good measure, but the immediate priority would be to de-power the psychic.

[psiandco]

On a petty note, “water from the air” or “self-filling water bottle” devices are scams. Dehumidifiers are a comically inefficient way to collect water, because they’re effectively boiling water in reverse, a process that requires a lot of energy (like 100 times as much as just pushing dirty water through a filter/membrane). Since this is a science fiction setting, this is a minor gripe, but as an engineer who’s had to deal with people blowing real money on that crap, it’s a pet peeve for me. The notion of watering a horse with such a device is silly.

I do know what you are saying. I do agree with many examples... their methods are flawed. You can freeze stacks of metal sheets all day long and not condense much water at all. they are hoping that random impacts of water molecules will exchange thermal energy... good luck with that.
Heat transfers three ways; convection, conduction, and radiation. science does not (I repeat this fact) not know "how and why" different substances transfer heat with differing efficiency. A great deal of physics knowledge is just "missing". until we have absolutes to measure and observe phenomena to use the scientific method (*I.E. EXPERIMENTS, and not recitation/stagnation) we won't know the truth. we can't make statements as "Fact" when we do not know, that is ignorance.

1. Let's take the best heat-transferring material we know of. fabricate it as a long tapering pipe, you might make a spiral or a wavy radiator with the length. that's fine.
2. at the large mouth end you place a check valve. sufficient force must be applied to open the valve to allow materials to pass through. Materials inside the tube cannot come back out as the check valve is ONE WAY.
3. You use an electric motor to spin an "intake jet fan", the air drawn in by the fan has nowhere to go except against the check valve. When sufficient pressure is reached the air goes in and can't come out.
4. our tapering pipe serves as our radiator to strip the compressed air of heat, and when the higher-pressure check valve is forced open at the very narrow end the air blows out.
the air rapidly disperses, at a much lower temperature.
5. Water vapor that was in the air at "Standard Temperature and Pressure" is no longer a vapor and "falls" out. Because we have changed the "STP". This is much cleaner than systems that use Oil sheathed Pistons and greasy parts. The water that comes out of the air is "as clean as the air".

There are more details, more Physics, Hydraulics, refrigeration, and chemistry laws involved, but I want you to look into it. We have machines to make liquid gasses. The same rules can be applied to mechanically strip heat away and squeeze water out.

[Nekira Sudacne]

On a petty note, “water from the air” or “self-filling water bottle” devices are scams. Dehumidifiers are a comically inefficient way to collect water, because they’re effectively boiling water in reverse, a process that requires a lot of energy (like 100 times as much as just pushing dirty water through a filter/membrane). Since this is a science fiction setting, this is a minor gripe, but as an engineer who’s had to deal with people blowing real money on that crap, it’s a pet peeve for me. The notion of watering a horse with such a device is silly.

I do know what you are saying. I do agree with many examples... but having worked in the field of Liquified gasses I can tell you that (depending on the environment) the air is almost saturated with water and that "tapering pipes" might be all the "energy" you need to Condensate and precipitate that water. refidgeration as we all know "works" and can work very efficently! radiator fins, a compressor, tappering pipes... Sigh. it isn't that hard to make liquid nitrogen, liquid oxygen, jellied hellium and superfluid liquid helium are fun, recently humanity has made "METALIC HYDROGEN"! I am well aware of STP phase charts and how changing a state of matter works (ice melting, water boiling) and how much enthalpy matters. these things are taught in basic chemistry these days and easily witnessed by building your own refrigerator. Seriously? does it RAIN where you are?

****************off topic******************
Do you watch "Isaac Arthur's" hard Sci-fi channel. I don't care about the guy's speech problems. I listen to his shows. however, several of the points he keeps repeating and "drilling home" infuriate me to no end. Things like "Waste heat" and "the inevitable heat death of the universe"... anything that goes outside of the actual math for thermodynamics, is just wrong. it is the same as claiming that "spinning magnets" produce anti-gravity. it is wrong. "Heat" is a form of "ENERGY", it astonishes me how many physics guys forget that. it shouldn't take a NITINOL heat engine to prove that energy efficiency can be improved and that advances in technology can be "Force multipliers" for sustainability rather than "miniscule" percentile increases. I.e. resources of the universe are so finite that we on earth are already doomed,etc etc etc. there is no where else to go. humans can't survive space travel. the environment of momma urf is dying...
BULL HOCKEY I say!
people used to say that MAN WOULD NEVER FLY.
and some fools think SCIENCE is at its end (Was it lord acton or lord Kelvin?)
Malthus was wrong. we can and do feed a world population beyond one billion. we can and should strive to feed a world with a 1 trillion population! the current world population that could fill the entire state of TEXAS and still have a 4 bedroom house, two car garage, and a sizable yard/garden! With 268,820 square miles of area and 640 acres per square mile the actual acerage of Texas is 172,044,800 acres. The land area of the earth is 148.9 million km² = 95,296,000,000 acres...

we have room.
we have resources. (*it boggles the mind, we have a world encompassed by power cables, fiber optics, and all but "ringed" with satelites... and idiots howl about "E-waste" cause by "bit-coin minning"? ARE YOU PEOPLE F***ING STUPID?)
above all,
Slow, weak, unarmed, soft, delicious, HUMANS dominate all life on earth. why? how?

because BRAINS.

we need to use them.

The Kardashev Scale is wrong and idiotic.
Civilization should not be measured by how much energy it can waste,
but by how WELL it uses EFFICIENCY.

if you nano-print electronics, it should blow your mind at how little energy you will need to do the same things that your cellphone does.
Compared to the 1970's when you needed a "BIG BOX" of furniture and a "ROOM" for each dedicated purpose...
A cellphone is an INFINITE MANSION!

Um.

The Inevitable Heat Death of the Universe is taken directly from the law of thermodynamics.

Second law: energy can neither be created or destroyed.

If true, eventually, all potential energy will be used.

[psiandco]

(OUT OF STORY)
Do they do that?
I mean, Psi-stalkers. Do they take prisoners to feed their whole camp, day after day, every day?

This seems quite plausible to me, though they would likely take some precautions that you haven't described. As an example, if a prisoner used a psionic power, the response would be to drain that psychic dry of I.S.P.; maybe the prisoner would get beaten for good measure, but the immediate priority would be to de-power the psychic.

There is actual text regarding psi-stalker feeding, (*if they don't kill you to get double the P.P.E. right then and there) That all of your P.P.E. is gone, drained, and for psychics they lose "Half of their I.S.P." I can't tap into that stream of consciousness at the moment, but The Stalkers who "no longer need to eat" might drain more than half I.S.P. for all I know many of them have "Auto-mind block" or "Group mind block" super-category psi powers. As the story shows, Ian tries to contact Sonja's mind, and nothing is there to stop him from trying...
That is, until she Beats him silly for trying.

if the Stalkers do capture a "Burster" pyrokinetic...
the question is how long they would allow him to live if the burster was always trying to escape by throwing M.D.C. fire...
I think. The stalkers would not allow the burster to live. The burster is simply Too dangerous. While mages on the other hand...
A daily jab for a quick 20 or so P.P.E.? Yeah, that hits the stalker spot. delicious.
If: a captive has more than a normal person's P.P.E. and tries to meditate to recover a portion of their "strength".
Then: I foresee the stalkers taking turns with that captive. "Hey! george! I'm full. You wanna jab this guy so he don't cast NUKE on our kids? George, "Nope, Willy. I am good ta go for this week. (*I've already got my 100+ P.P.E) How about we let the yung'uns get a few nibbles in?"

[psiandco]

Um. The Inevitable Heat Death of the Universe is taken directly from the law of thermodynamics. Second law: energy can neither be created or destroyed.
If true, eventually, all potential energy will be used.

The premise of "universal" heat death is fallacious because it makes assumptions when we don't know absolutely everything. How many stars are there? how big is our universe? when will there be no more new stars? no one figures out how to use "shade" or "Heat pipes" to transfer heat to do "work"? is Entropy reversable? How much heat do Blackholes take out from our universe? Are physical laws and constants the same at EVERY point in our universe? what could it mean if our universe is "infinite"? on and on and on... questions to which there can be NO ANSWER to because we do not KNOW everything "absolutely". That is the purpose of science to try to find the answers.

"I can make a prediction"... If the minds of modern "Skeptical" "scientists" who don't experiment all landed in dark ages Europe...
"Theories of an atmosphere" of "heliocentrism" the differences between "Closed systems" and "Open systems" and like would never be.
They would deny that the wind exists in the exact same way they deny Psi/Esp has already been proven.
I don't see "wind". they'd cry! "Well its not happening right now!" they'd cry. "Wind doesn't blow inside my jar experiment!" they'd whine. "It doesn't happen when I want!" "There is no repeatability to verify the claims of wind" "wait, you're telling me that there is an invisible force that can move Sailing vessels and you don't have a mechanism for where it comes from?"
Before you know it, the same "fallacies" that lead to claims of "Heat death of the universe" will have those same "skeptical scientists" supporting;
an earth centered cosmos, wind as a myth, a flat earth, and creationism...

It doesn't surprise me in the least when someone says, "there is no proof of X" and drops the subject, because "everyone else says that's just the way it is"...
IT DOES SURPRISE ME, when someone says, "Are you sure there is such a thing as gravity? well, let's experiment."
believe you me, I wish I could be surprised a whole lot more often...

[Nekira Sudacne]

Um. The Inevitable Heat Death of the Universe is taken directly from the law of thermodynamics. Second law: energy can neither be created or destroyed.
If true, eventually, all potential energy will be used.

The premise of "universal" heat death is fallacious because it makes assumptions when we don't know absolutely everything. How many stars are there? how big is our universe? when will there be no more new stars? no one figures out how to use "shade" or "Heat pipes" to transfer heat to do "work"? is Entropy reversable? How much heat do Blackholes take out from our universe? Are physical laws and constants the same at EVERY point in our universe? what could it mean if our universe is "infinite"? on and on and on... questions to which there can be NO ANSWER to because we do not KNOW everything "absolutely". That is the purpose of science to try to find the answers.

"I can make a prediction"... If the minds of modern "Skeptical" "scientists" who don't experiment all landed in dark ages Europe...
"Theories of an atmosphere" of "heliocentrism" the differences between "Closed systems" and "Open systems" and like would never be.
They would deny that the wind exists in the exact same way they deny Psi/Esp has already been proven.
I don't see "wind". they'd cry! "Well its not happening right now!" they'd cry. "Wind doesn't blow inside my jar experiment!" they'd whine. "It doesn't happen when I want!" "There is no repeatability to verify the claims of wind" "wait, you're telling me that there is an invisible force that can move Sailing vessels and you don't have a mechanism for where it comes from?"
Before you know it, the same "fallacies" that lead to claims of "Heat death of the universe" will have those same "skeptical scientists" supporting;
an earth centered cosmos, wind as a myth, a flat earth, and creationism...

It doesn't surprise me in the least when someone says, "there is no proof of X" and drops the subject, because "everyone else says that's just the way it is"...
IT DOES SURPRISE ME, when someone says, "Are you sure there is such a thing as gravity? well, let's experiment."
believe you me, I wish I could be surprised a whole lot more often...

Sure. "If" the second law is true then the heat death of the universe is inevitable.

You just went on a lot of " Well maybe it's not true always"

Sure, if that happens then science will revise its models like it does every other time there's something they thought was contrary to new observations. That's how it works

You don't change the model before all those hypotheticals you point out are actually proven.

[psiandco]

Sure. "If" the second law is true then the heat death of the universe is inevitable.
You just went on a lot of " Well maybe it's not true always"
Sure, if that happens then science will revise its models like it does every other time there's something they thought was contrary to new observations. That's how it works
You don't change the model before all those hypotheticals you point out are actually proven.

Even if the "second law is true" does that mean heat death?
It can in any case where we ignore all of the ifs and our lack of knowledge.
Socrates understood it best. "I know nothing".
Science is humbling because of how much we do not know.
Science isn't about celebrity.
Science isn't a religion to recite.
Science is a process to discover.

Speaking of weird and rule-breaking, did you hear about the "earth speeding up" rotating faster than ever?
given Newton's laws of motion, (and given thermodynamics),
...is that even remotely possible?

[psiandco]

Okay, I have taken notes. I will use notepad to write and not try to format the story when I post it.
I'll have to rely on the reader to add the Indent of paragraphs and changes in who is speaking
as the message board doesn't seem to allow tab.
I will post the next updates soon.

The story will continue

[Nekira Sudacne]

Sure. "If" the second law is true then the heat death of the universe is inevitable.
You just went on a lot of " Well maybe it's not true always"
Sure, if that happens then science will revise its models like it does every other time there's something they thought was contrary to new observations. That's how it works
You don't change the model before all those hypotheticals you point out are actually proven.

Even if the "second law is true" does that mean heat death?
It can in any case where we ignore all of the ifs and our lack of knowledge.
Socrates understood it best. "I know nothing".
Science is humbling because of how much we do not know.
Science isn't about celebrity.
Science isn't a religion to recite.
Science is a process to discover.

Speaking of weird and rule-breaking, did you hear about the "earth speeding up" rotating faster than ever?
given Newton's laws of motion, (and given thermodynamics),
...is that even remotely possible?

I think you're misunderstanding "Science" with "People who talk about science that you know".

Yes, the second law of thermodynamcis, as it exists currently, says that the heat death is inevitable.

if something happens later on to change that analasis, the law will be updated to reflect that.

It's not a lack of humility or hubris. It's just presenting the current model as it currently exists.

[psiandco]

okay. the prelude chapter. over 3,500 words.

[psiandco]

Ian rolled off his side, opened his eyes, and stared at the ceiling. He was awake. Ian sat up in his bed. The dream had been disturbing. He turned and planted his feet on the floor. The floor was real. He pressed down on the mattress. The bed was real. Ian shook off the last of the foggy feeling of sleep.
Ian started his day on the wrong side of the bed. His pop tart had spurted out from the side and splattered on his pajamas. He accidentally bumped the coffee pot and it shattered on the floor. The resistance band he'd been using for his workout tore and whipped against him. It left a red mark on his face. Ian slipped in the shower and scattered the eight bottles of hygiene products like bowling pins. His car didn't start until he'd hammered a tiny nail between the battery post and the clamp.
Ian put all of these disasters behind him and focused on his plans for the day. It was his weekend. Ian was going to get out of his apartment and go hiking. Ian missed the Sun and the wind, and he didn't feel free. The daily grind since the new flu panic had landed him behind his home computer with a customer service headset for almost two years. Ian had never felt so trapped. He had never sat indoors for so long. The monotony was such that the calendar had become a blur. He'd describe this feeling as having "lost days". Hell. He didn't even know what day it was if he didn't check his watch!
Ian's plan was simple, meet up with a fellow war veteran and go hiking a trail southeast of the city of Redding, Ca.
Ian drove through the parking lot with care and headed to the local Coffee hut. He rarely came to this place to get coffee. Ian said aloud, "Self-discipline starts with Self. If you've got the time and money to go visit a gym, you may as well save the money and work out at home." Ian was fond of this saying, and he tried to apply it to every last detail of his life. Hence, he would rather make a pot of coffee at home for pennies a cup, than spend seven dollars on a frilly-silly caramel mocha Frappuccino with whipped cream, a vanilla wafer, and a sprinkle of chocolate shavings. Ian gave his order at the drive-thru menu. The iced coffee drink just sounded so good, and he desperately needed his morning coffee fix.
Ian drove to Rodger's place and honked the horn once. Rodger came out the door within seconds a heavily loaded bug-out bag held in one hand. The bags in the backseat and the two men in the front were ready. Ian drove directly towards the national park. No side treks or stops. The sign of a good plan in action. "Get it-Do it!" The slogan of the civil engineering unit from their days in the Army. It meant if you understood a problem (Get it), you must devise a plan to solve the issue and follow through (Do it). Actions and deeds meant more to their command than appearances and presentation.
Rodger asked, "How ya doin'?"
Ian answered, "all good. you?"
Rodger replied, "My family had a weird hang-up about this trip and so did my girlfriend. I don't know what that was about."
Ian shrugged, "Love is hard work. There is communication, honesty, trust, responsibilities."
Rodger shook his head slightly, "I'm finally getting my life together. So of course, this can only mean I am overdue for some kind of disaster."
Ian smirked and snorted through his nose, "you remember carter? when I was going out with Jules?"
Rodger, "yeah. I remember that dumbass. He'd forgotten his rifle inside an outhouse, my entire platoon had to go looking for it. Not him and his battle buddy. Not his four-soldier fire team, not the nine-man squad. Oh hell no. The Shirt made it personal, the whole platoon."
Ian said, "That's the first shirt's job, to keep the whole company focused on goals and track. I was thinking of the time we'd finally gotten boots-on-ground. Carter came over to me as I was speaking privately with her about maybe getting married. He joked that Jules wasn't into me. He called me an idiot and said She was only getting a lottery ticket."
Rodger said, "Hah. as if the only thing Jules was hopin' for was for you to make her the sole beneficiary of your life insurance."
Ian said, "Yeah. I couldn't correct his dumbass because of all the brass on the post. I had earned my stripes and no punk was going to take them from me. I brought that up because when people start getting their act together it is like blood in the water. The sharks lose their minds and enter a feeding frenzy. It is as if no one is allowed to succeed. They can't be happy until you fail."
Rodger said, "yeah. I'll never forget Jules. She was hot. Tough. She could out-push, outrun, and outfight all of the men in the company. That's what being a constantly trained fire-jumper did for you. hell of a way to go."
Ian glanced downward but kept his eyes on the road. It still hurt. Even after the passage of the last few years. She had been tasked with repairing a junction box on a step-down transformer. Shrapnel from the I.E.D. had hit something just right and the arc plasma discharge sliced her in half. The one woman who had given him the damn time of day and she was gone. Ian didn't even want to think about the dating scene and the sad desperate hope of meeting someone else who was just as vivacious, intelligent, and built as Jules was. Ian said, "She was one in a billion."
The remainder of the drive was silent and thankfully brief. Ian didn't even realize he had brought up the topic of Jules or even why he had started talking about her. Psychology could be a real pain, ya know?
At the Ranger station in the park, Ian and Rodger stopped and met with the ranger. The man was not merely muscular, He looked as if he'd been carved out from a block of steel. The bottom edge of a US Marines corps tattoo peeked out from under the left sleeve of the short sleeve uniform. Ian gave a short crisp nod of respect to the man as he walked to the office counter, "Good morning, Sir."
The marine (who was the park ranger) smiled a large perfect smile with the whitest teeth Ian had ever seen. He Spoke loudly like a burst of howitzer fire, "Don't call me Sir!" pausing for the effect he added much more calmly, "I work for a living"...
All jokes and reminiscence done, Ian and Rodger shared their planned hiking route with the ranger. The marine said, "Well, that's no big deal. Stay on the trail and nothing bad will happen."
Ian said, "We, your brothers in gray, (as the current Battle Dress Uniform was predominately gray) are just doing due diligence. Nothing normal ever happens where we go, so if we need the marines to haul our asses out of the fire. You'll know where to go."
The ranger got up and drew one of his many topological map copies with the trails pre-printed on it. With a red felt tip marker, He copied Ian's route. The ranger added, "No smoking, no fires. Carry more water than you think you need. Do not leave Litter on my trails."
Turning away the Ranger filed the map in a drawer marked "Check on me". With that Ian and Rodger were good to go. Their boss, Rodger's girlfriend, Rodger's family and now this Marine would know exactly where they were at and where they had gone.
An RV pulled into the parking lot and an elderly couple prepared a picnic table while grandchildren stood in awe of squirrels, pinecones, and trees taller than office buildings.
Ian said, "got your pace count?"
Rodger drew out the U.S. Army field manual and said, "Nope. let's refresh our land nav skills."
Using his cellphone laser range-finding app, Ian marked off two posts as being 100 meters apart. Rodger went first counting only his left footsteps as he walked between the two poles ten times. Then he did it again with his ruck on. Rodger said, "Okay. I must be shrinking or something. My usual pace count is 66. Now I am 69 and I have a bad left side drag."
Ian had done the same on the other side of the two posts, Ian said, "I'm still 68 paces and still have my right side drift." Ian shook his head. How hard was it really to walk a straight line for 100 meters? He shook his head and pegged a half dozen landmarks among these Mt. Shasta, Mt.Lassen, the creek bed, the Park itself, a local peak with a white limestone outcropping that stood out like a sore thumb from the trees. Ian drew out his lensatic compass. He sighted magnetic north, adjusted to true north, and using his protractor and fine tip grease pen drew the lines outward from his position at the trailhead. He shot the angles to each landmark too.
Rodger was a "Geardo" like he was. He drew out a set of pace counting bead cords and wrapped the grip line around his left hand.
"Geardo", was deployment slang for the soldiers who would spend too much money to have the most elite gadgets marketed to the military. Whenever there was a new "high-speed low-drag" tool that the Delta, Spec ops, Snipers, Sappers, or Foxes had, the geardo would buy it and play with it. A few actually would bother to learn how to use it...
Even though the men worked "Power-pro" while in the service, that was only a sub-unit of C.E. "Civil engineering". Jobs that normally had you "In the rear, with the gear" and never seeing combat. A support role. All of that changed. Every soldier was now trained to be infantry, every soldier was now trained to be a medic, and every last soldier was to know their jobs, and their roles, and do them masterfully. Even "box-kickers" of supply could be out in the dirt at any time. That was then, though.
Ian and Rodger chatted idly as they hiked, both counting pace and using their compasses. Rodger said, "So, when are you going to get back out there man?"
Ian sputtered, "I'm not going back in. Are you nuts? I've got a good civilian job!"
Rodger shook his head at Ian as he locked his bead count. He said, "That is not what I meant and you know it. I am talking about girls, man!"
Ian felt the red edging of his eyes sting ever so slightly, He cursed silently as he thought to himself, "Tears here! Tears Now!?!" He shook his head no and gave a lame excuse that would take his mind away from the memory of Jules, "Nah... You've made me gay."
Rodger grimaced, "Why did you do that? That's not like you to react so oddly and be all defensive."
Ian looked down his face going a little slack, "it still hurts. I miss Jules. I miss her every day. Don't worry about me though. I've got a job working HVAC on the outside, plenty of money, and work the whole year round. I'll get back out there and make some moves on a sassy Tai Bo instructor or something. I just needed a little time."
Rodger shrugged, "You'd better! You are 25, and 28 will be too late."
Ian said, "Let's drop it. We came out here to get away from all of that."
Rodger nodded knowing he shouldn't hound Ian on the subject of romance. They rounded a stand of huge pine trees and paused to take a break. Down the slope was a creek bed running full of snowmelt.
Up the slope beside them was a crumbling shale wall near the top of the hill there was a fresh cave mouth coated with black basalt stone.
Rodger stuffed the groove of a celery stick with chunky peanut butter. He pointed to the trapezoidal hole in the hillside. He said, "after I finish this snack, I wanna go and take a look-see up there."
Ian said, "we've got four miles to go. we need to stick to the trail."
Rodger waved a hand to deflect Ian's words, "I'm going up there. I want to check it out."
Ian said, "you are not climbing that scree. The rocks will crumble and you'll be on your back down here before you make it ten feet up."
Rodger pointed to the edge of the slope some 30 meters ahead, He said, "I don't have to climb the scree if I circle the hill over there and climb the grass tufts."
Ian said, "you might want to wear your gloves. There are scorpions, black widows, brown recluses, tarantula, and ticks in this area."
Rodger stuffed the last inch of celery stalk into his mouth and wiped a smudge of peanut butter away with his thumb. He turned and pulled his bugout bag into his lap and started digging through it. He found what he was looking for and pulled them out.
Ian said, "you are still a geardo."
Rodger nodded curtly and gave a guttural, "Mmm-mmM" as he put them on. Quickly, he'd gotten to his feet in a single stride and swung his pack on. Rodger was going to go for it, and Ian was going to have to catch up.
Ian shifted from sitting to one knee. He packed all his items away and drew his gloves out as well. He said, "This is not a good idea."
Then Ian followed after Rodger anyway. You can't leave a battle buddy. With a few minor concerning moments, the two men reached a part of the hill where a leap down would place you in the mouth of the cave. Ian said, "This is stupid, we don't have any ropes, harnesses, pitons, carabiners, ascenders, nothing. If anything goes wrong we are screwed."
Rodger jumped down to the ledge and gasped in awe at what he was seeing. Rodger vanished into the cave.
Ian said, "Damn it, Man!"
Ian jumped too. The cave was dark so Ian drew out an LED lantern and flicked it open and on. The black Basalt rock was everywhere Ian looked, He said, "It's a lava tunnel. Come on. Once you have seen one you've seen them all."
Rodger turned around holding something in two hands, He said, "No. This isn't just any lava tube."
Ian looked at the glittering green stone Rodger held in his hands. Rodger seemed to be in awe of it. Rodger said, "It's a volcanic gemstone. its peridot and this rock is the size of a football. I took that geology, mineralogy, and lapidary classes. I know what I am talking about. There are more in here."
Ian asked, "how much could that stone be worth?"
Rodger shrugged, "it is very clear, no visible contaminants, and very large. It can be cut into gemstone shapes and as jewelry, each tiny piece like a pair of earrings is worth seventy-five dollars. This stone could probably make a thousand pairs. At the minimum, we can sell the whole stone for one thousand, or on consignment as jewelry at the most ten thousand."
Ian's greed got the better of him. if they each dumped their packs and carried out all the stones they could to his car. One hundred thousand dollars sounded pretty good to him. Ian grinned, "alright we explore for more stones, but at the first sign of danger we turn back okay."
Rodger nodded and kept sweeping his flashlight in a wide circle as they moved deeper into the tunnel. Ian knew this was dangerous but now his imagination was running wild creating traps; a thin crust over three hundred feet deep pits, a deadly gas pocket, flammable gas ignited by the use of a lighter, lava that was still hot, or cloud burst rainstorm might drown them, a monstrous giant vampire bat. who knows what? Ian felt that warning tingle that made him jittery and nervous.
Rodger spoke loudly, "Over here!"
Rodger dug in his pack and pulled out his claw hammer, a hatchet, and another flashlight. Using his tools Rodger carefully gathered the stones into his bag. None of the stones were smaller than his fist.
Ian's eyes kept darting back to the entrance of the lava tube. He told Rodger, "Listen, we have gone so deep that I can't see the entrance anymore. We shouldn't go any further than this. We don't have the right equipment. It is just asking for trouble!"
Rodger said, "not yet look."
Rodger played his flashlight over the passage ahead and said, "that's impossible. We've hit the motherlode."
Ian did a double take, The tunnel ahead looked like an arched doorway rimmed with a rainbow of different colored gemstones.
Rodger said, "amethyst. A chunk this size could literally be worth fifty maybe as much as ninety thousand and there are twenty such stones here. All in all, everything we've got in our bags together is probably worth Half a million dollars at the minimum! Wait. There is more."
Rodger struck a wall with his claw hammer and tore away a large slab of quartz to reveal a vein passing through the rock. A gold vein.
Rodger said, "one pound of gold can be worth two hundred thousand."
Ian was breathless, "how, how much is here?"
Rodger said, "I am uncertain until we dig, but I'd just say we've become millionaires."
Ian was worried, "We can only carry so much of this stuff back to my car without anyone noticing. We have to be very careful. we don't want to be caught. I don't know the laws about all this, but if anyone else finds out we are hauling a few million in gems and metal out of this cave. We could go to jail for a very long time"...
Rodger said, "just keep your cool, we'll make one trip back to your car today and come back after midnight to get the rest."
Ian asked, "earlier you said something was impossible. what is it?"
Rodger said, "First, all of these stones have massive size and purity I have never seen before. Second, There is a wide variety here of many different gemstones. which shouldn't happen because it takes different elements and chemical processes to make different stones. Third, they are all sitting out in the open. As if on display. no geodes to crack open. it is weird. I have never heard of such a thing. Fourth, during the gold rush and the 49'ers era, countless miners combed over every last rock from Colorado to the Pacific. There should be nothing left that isn't already claimed. This cave and everything about it... it is wrong."
Ian formulated his words carefully. Ian said, "so, we don't push our luck. We go back to the car and get out of state as fast as we can. We find a place where we can sell these rocks and disappear."
Rodger said, "yeah that about sums it up, but I want to see what is on the other side of that archway first. Let's go."
Ian gasped as he lifted the chunk of gold and placed it inside his bag. He knew his army ruck was able to carry one hundred and twenty pounds. He estimated the new weight at eighty pounds. He'd only brought supplies for two days in the country, not even forty pounds worth of stuff. Ian wondered how much he could carry and if they could sneak what they had back to the car without getting caught. Without the bag, or him getting all torn up.
The chamber they had entered was solid black, but glitter flashed at them where their flashlight beams fell. This room was like a rotunda, a rising Diaz in the center between four of the most beautiful green pillars he'd ever seen.
Rodger whispered, "thousands of Emerald star clusters, the very hearts of gemstone formations. this"- "These are impossible. This doesn't occur in nature. Someone put this here."
Ian screwed up his face in disbelief, "Who? Who would build this lava tube, stuff it full of an absolute fortune in gold and various gemstones, and leave? This is too weird! I am getting the hee bee gebees!"
Ian's nerves seemed to be screaming a warning at him. A sensation of fingernails clawing at a chalkboard. He'd never felt anything like this before. A sensation that he could only liken to bringing a microphone too close to a speaker. Feedback. Horrible ear drum shredding feedback.
Ian got up onto the Diaz next to Rodger and said, "We have got to get out of here! This is all wrong. We have got to go! We need to leave, Now! Please!"
Rodger didn't budge. He was transfixed looking at the ceiling. Golden traceries of light, like electricity flowing through a circuit board in slow motion, crept out to the four pillars and wreathed the top edges in green light. The wreathes retained their shape and descended the pillars. once the glows had reached the floor, all of the lights went out.

[psiandco]

how is this?

[psiandco]

I do love me some good Rifts fiction. Please do continue!

any more thoughts?

by the by. The cryo-still. Ian never said how quickly it produces water (time/volume), it was the Psi-stalker Sonja who said, "The horses need water" .
When I get to that part of the revision, I will have Ian silently remark to himself about why Sonja is crazy... The cryo-still can only produce a drop per minute (measured as 4 ML) again, depending on the humidity and temperature. Ian also stated, "By the end of the day, you will have water to drink"... Ian didn't say exactly how much water. if "the end of the day" is twelve hours (x60 minutes X 4 ML water/minute) = 240 ml an hour, x12= 2,880 milliliters. close to three liters. two litters is enough for one person per day. 1.5 liters isn't enough if both Clara an Ian have to depend Soley on the device to produce water.

[psiandco]

No comment? Hello... Echo echo...
No thoughts? No ideas? No independent thinking?

[psiandco]

2,376 words,
to be continued. Prequel chapter 2.

Ian and Rodger looked about slowly in the darkness.
Rodger asked, "Why are the flashlights dead?"
Ian said, "I do not know."
Ian and Rodger searched their things to find another light source. Other devices showed no indicator lights. Try as they might, devices failed to activate.
Ian had Chem-lights. He shook the entire box full with both hands and drew them one by one to "Crack" them. The green glow did nothing to change their moods. Ian growled, "These only last a few minutes. Grab your bag! We are leaving!"
Ian was the first to reach the cave mouth and didn't bother waiting for Rodger. He grumbled under his breath. He dangled his pack down and let it fall down the slope. He sat down on the lip of the cave and shoved off with his hands. Ian slid down the scree like a child on a playground slide. The crumbling gravel tumbled ahead of him, building a pile up like a couch cushion. Once he reached the bottom, He was sitting unharmed. Ian fished up his bag and took two paces away from the bare face of the hill.
Rodger got to the cave mouth and said, "wait! something's different."
Ian was impatient to return to his car, to get out of this place and nervous about being caught with forty or more pounds of gold and gems. He shouted back, "We are leaving now!"
Rodger tightened all of the straps on his bug-out bag and dropped it moments before he joined the bag in sliding down. His bag tumbled and a large chunk of gold forced its way out. Rodger quietly cursed, "Damn it."
Ian was making the angry why-did-I-ever-listen-to-you face. Ian's expression began to waver as he looked at his surroundings. Ian asked numbly, "where is the trail?"
There was no trail. The ground seemed to be flat where the trail should be, but Ian was looking at a field of chest-deep Starthistle. He'd hated that weed. It was tough like a rope. Starthistle entangled your legs if you tried to walk through it. Each forking branch of the plant weaved among others of its kind as it grew, becoming a natural net. The worst part about the weed was its flower. Starthistle has that name for a reason; the flower bulb was ringed with a starburst of golden needles almost an inch long. If you tried to run through the weed, you'd get free acupuncture for your trouble.
Rodger stepped up beside Ian after he'd reloaded his bag with the spilled stones. Rodger said, "listen."
Ian paused, he took three deep breaths letting each one out slowly and quietly. Ian listened. A shocked look crossed his face. Ian said, "I can see the creek from here, but I can't hear it. How can a creek that was brimming with water suddenly be silent?"
Ian drew his entrenching tool (*a short camping shovel) and started to beat a path through the weeds to the creek edge.
Both men could not believe what they were seeing. The creek bed was bone dry. They stood dumbfounded at the creek edge and said nothing for a few minutes. Ian got back on the trail and unfolded his topological map. He drew his compass and aligned both magnetic north and true north. He looked for his landmarks. The two mountains he could recognize. They were exactly where they were supposed to be. Ian put his bag on his back and passed Rodger his entrenching tool. He began to follow what he knew to be the trail, even though the surroundings no longer looked the same. A few of his landmarks were missing.
Rodger said aloud, "Could we have come out on the other side, or from a different spur?"
Ian looked at him with a that's stupid face. He said, "then I wouldn't have been able to line up the map at all. I don't see any other course. We have got to get back to the trailhead. We get into my car and go home!"
Rodger was silent. He drew out his pace beads and started counting backward by one with each left step. He'd glance this way and that. He would shake his head at something he would notice but hold his peace.
Three hours had passed. The two men had hacked and chopped their way back to where the camp should be...
Ian said, "there is nothing!"
Rodger said, "oh no. there's something! we are lost. We somehow got all turned around and went the wrong way."
Ian's left hand dropped the map. His lensatic compass dangled from his right wrist. Ian's left arm shot out. Ian locked his fist and rolled it over in Rodger's collar. He turned and yelled in Rodger's face, "This is no time to panic!"
Rodger grabbed Ian's left wrist and shoved the offending hand away. Both men stared at each other with wild eyes betraying hints of shock and fear. Rodger said, "Look! Look right there! No Ranger Station. No RV. No car. No grandparents and kids. No picnic tables. No parking lot. Just where the hell do you think we are?"
Ian shouted back, "My pace count got us back here. My azimuths lined up with all the landmarks we can see. The topography matches the map! My watch says it is 14 minutes to four in the afternoon. Align to true north and look at your shadow. what time is it?"
Rodger shouted back, "ADMIT IT WE ARE LOST!"
Ian shouted back, "This is all your fault!"
Rodger stopped yelling, He stood silent. The moment passed and Rodger walked over to a patch of green, knelt down, and picked a flower. Rodger brought the flower to Ian. Rodger started, "You have to see reason. we can't be in the same place. This flower has lavender purple petals with white chevrons pointing inward. I never saw this flower in the parking lot, only here. We must have gone the wrong way."
Ian's pupils dilated, "when everything else is ruled out, and only the impossible remains, the impossible is the solution." Ian paused before he turned away. Ian started searching the ground. He'd found it. Ian picked it up and triumphantly showed his prize to Rodger. He said, "Ah HA!"
Rodger said, "so what does that prove? what is it anyway?"
Ian said, "I had noticed this broken G-shock watch laying in the dirt when we left! It isn't a natural thing. If we are in the wrong spot, how can it be where I last saw it?" The plastic wristband crumbled into pieces...
Rodger snatched the timepiece out of the air and muttered at the plastic fragments, "It is not possible. G-shock watches were all but indestructible, how is the plastic so weathered?"
Rodger started at it. He said quietly, "still hasn't changed my mind. we can't be in the right place. this is all wrong."
Ian kept searching the ground. He announced his findings aloud, "The wooden fence was here, the posts where we checked our pace count have to have been over here, this is where the tarmac of the parking lot should be. less than 60 meters to the ranger station, come on!"
Rodger sighed and shook his head still holding the broken watch as if it was a life preserver for his sanity, "See, there is nothing here. This can't be the park. We went the wrong way. We had to have gone the wrong way."
Ian said, "I don't get it. There is nothing here, but how could that broken watch still have been there? I can't even find post holes!"
Rodger felt slightly more confident, "We went the wrong way."
Ian shrugged and walked to the graded slope that he believed to be the road coming into the park. Ian searched, "oh no."
Rodger said, "see I knew it. I am right."
Ian said, "No. you are wrong." Ian held out a tiny black lump, "it is asphalt."
Rodger said, "I haven't been this scared since I was little. I was shopping with my mommy, we passed through the toy aisle and I stared at an action figure. It was a superhero and I wanted it so bad, but my momma wouldn't listen. I kept staring at it. My mommy didn't realize she'd left me until she'd got done loading the new school clothes and stuff into the car." Rodger's face was slack, his eyes seemed to wander into and out of focus.
Ian responded with schoolboy mockery, he said, "You called your mother, Mommy?" Ian and Rodger both looked at each other, their facial expressions crumbling.
Ian shook his head, "Listen, we are under some serious stress. we are cracking up, acting like children." Ian held out the tiny lump of asphalt. "That's all that is left of this park. This tiny chunk and that broken watch."
Rodger said, "no. We should have never left the trail. We are going back to the cave and we are going to find the correct exit."
Ian accepted the broken watch and stuffed it in his cargo pocket along with the tiny chunk of asphalt. Ian said, "let me hold on to these."
Ian said, "Remember all those dungeon games we played? all those maps I drew? I learned that water always flows down the lowest path. It is like a rule or something, rivers don't fork out as they run to the sea shore."
Rodger drew a compass and his pace counting beads, saying, "I do not care. we are going back to the cave."
Ian said, "The creek here and the creek that ran alongside our trail... even if we were in the wrong spot, they should both be flowing."
Rodger shook his head, "we go back to the cave. we get our bearings and we find the right way back to the park."
Ian dropped his argument. He snatched up his map on his way back to the trailhead, the trail, and then the cave. A few more hours had passed, and they found the scree slope just as they had left it. The small path hacked through the starthistle was easily spotted. As they had before, they clambered up the slope and made their way back into the lava tube cave mouth. Ian pointed out each spot where they had gathered the outrageous gemstones and raw gold. At no point was there any deviation in their course. Nor were there any other passages in the lava tube. Back inside the rotunda, Ian and Rodger searched the walls. it was certain, there was only one path in and out. Ian had charged his cellphone with the top flap solar sheet. Six hours of hiking had fully charged the device. Ian used his phone as a flashlight.
Ian said, "we did not make a mistake. we have to be in the exact spot. I just don't get why everything is warped."
Rodger sat in the center of the rotunda on his haunches, He dragged his bag over and prepared a large cracker with a squirt of string cheese.
Ian said, "If we walk back to the park now, it will be nighttime when we get there."
Rodger said, "We can't be in the same place."
Ian said, "We are. All the clues we have found. it is like that one series, life after people, or something. There has been no one around to take care of things and thousands of years later there isn't a single sign of humanity ever existing."
Rodger said, "Thousands of years? no. we did not time travel that far. nu-uh. no way. The topography should have changed, that creek bed shouldn't be there. A thousand other things I can't imagine. shouldn't our compasses be wildly off?"
Ian said, "no. you're right. we didn't go thousands of years into the future"...
Ian muttered to himself trying to find a way to discover exactly just what had happened. He gripped the asphalt lump in his hand. He felt the watch in his pocket. Decay. the passage of time. Ian muttered to himself, "it couldn't be."
Ian wondered if he changed the battery in the G-shock (if that was all that was wrong with it) what time would it show? Ian had something else to check out. Ian left Rodger sitting next to the tiny lamp and checked his phone at the cave mouth. No cell signal. He'd have to climb to the top of the hill again to be sure, but this experiment was vital to understanding what was going on.
Ian dialed his car's remote account, and he got nothing of course. However, he also had a safety feature that used Satellites to track his car. There might not be cell towers, but surely 34,000 or so satellites did not go belly up. He got nothing. Ian checked for satellite internet. He got nothing. Ian said, "it is now or nothing."
Ian turned on the AWS weather application. He got nothing. Ian crossed his fingers and toggled the GPS. He got nothing. Ian walked back to sit with Rodger and told him the news. Ian said, "We are not on earth."
Rodger said, "Bull. it is like you said. every sign of what we did in this tunnel is here. I don't know why the outside is so different. We should have never left the trail! The army drilled it into us. The survival and land nav classes."
Ian said, "one more time. There are no satleites in orbit. No satellite internet, no car tracking app, no weather app, and to top all the impossible off with something really mind-blowing... No GPS."
Rodger said, "we have got to apply Occam's razor here. The simplest explanation that fits the facts is gotta be the truth."
Ian sighed, "There is no simple explanation."
Rodger said, "I am tired, we've gone back and forth from this cave a few times now. I guess something like 8 miles each way, three times is 24 miles. We just walked a marathon. I need to take a nap and figure this all out later."
Ian grumbled, "yeah. I just can't think about this anymore. Not right now. I need to rest too."

[Hotrod]

No comment? Hello... Echo echo...
No thoughts? No ideas? No independent thinking?

I’m on vacation and mostly limited to my phone. I may have some more thoughts when I get back.

[psiandco]

No comment? Hello?

I’m on vacation and mostly limited to my phone. I may have some more thoughts when I get back.

thank you.