I was contemplative while I walked. I didnt have much to think about aside from David, and his note, and I found it turning my thoughts lancholy. The silence and endless black sand didnt help. I checked my notifications, looking for so respite from myself.
Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in Investigation! Here in the US we have the right to question everything, except freedom!
Congratulations Citizen! You have earned a rank in walking! A great way to see the beautiful vistas of this great nation
The walking increase didnt surprise , that had been a significant chunk of what Id been doing for the last several days, and the investigation mustve co from my search of the bunker, though how the system recognized that was beyond . I had a lot of questions about how the system actually worked. How it recognized actions, how it supposedly increased intangibles like intelligence, or whether the skills increasing was actually granting sothing to , or was instead just asuring what it recognized as what I already had. When I was at earlier ranks I could almost swear I could actually feel a steadier hand with my pistol, or a slight increase in my walking efficiency, but as ti had gone on it had begun to feel more epheral, harder to really notice. As always, I had the question of why, in my case, the virus was recognized by the system. Id actually been able to read about the virus and its developnt, how it had led to the deadn, but thered been no notes of anything related to the system interacting with it. The creator had, in fact, seed openly hostile to the Rebuild Arica System and its creator.
I thought about that as I walked. After a few miles, the black sand started to give way, and I was back on firr, easier to traverse ground. The change in sights was a relief, though that relief faded quickly as I eventually grew bored of the dusty and miserable landscape ahead of , just as I had with the black sand. I fiddled with my radio, hoping to catch a signal from Deuxs station, or even a speech from Adams if only to have sothing to internally complain about, but there was nothing.
I took a deep breath and focused on just putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in and out in timing with my movent until everything else faded away. I was still aware of my surroundings of course, but I entered a kind of fugue in which everything ca automatically, and my mind went blank. I could still feel a kind of heat rising inside , the sa heat Id felt since I entered the high rads of the massive Cut deadzone. The external heat almost felt like it was finding a kind of equilibrium with the heat inside of , and for a few monts as I walked it almost seed as if there was no difference between the wastes and myself. I traveled like that for several days, breaking only to eat and sleep, and the only tis my focus returned was when I chose to read.
Several hours into the morning, I felt sothing. A tremor or vibration in the ground that broke from my contemplation and snapped to attention. I stopped walking, but the vibration didnt. I thought back to what the Pilgrim had said to . Id just made it past the black sand, which ant that next Id need to walk without rhythm while crossing the abyss, or they would notice . I wasnt certain of who, they were, but I was sure I didnt want to find out. I didnt see anything that I would consider an abyss either, though Id originally assud that hed ant the Cut itself.
I changed my walking pattern. Adjusting it to a kind of rolling gait, occasionally dragging one foot, or sliding them together. I was certain Nico or Deux wouldve gotten a kick out of it, but as I was alone I had only my self-judgnt to deal with. As I moved in this odd pattern, the vibrations Id been feeling grew fainter, until I could no longer feel them. It was hard though. I kept finding myself walking at my usual quick pace the mont I wasnt actively focusing on it. My high walking skill, it seed, had found the one way in which it was a liability.
After an excruciating amount of high focus, rhythmless walking, I saw sothing strange in the distance. A line of discoloration ahead of that seed to stretch across the distance. The closer I got, the stranger it beca, and the higher I felt the Rads climbing. Eventually, I realized what I was seeing. It was the Cut itself. The massive gash that was torn diagonally across the entire United States. I kept walking until I reached the edge. The Cut itself was mostly smooth, like glass, and it appeared to be a perfectly straight line as far as I could see. It was easily a mile deep, and I guessed maybe only a little less than a mile wide. My plan to simply use the Jump Pack to get across was looking much less feasible. It may be able to allow to safely glide to the bottom, but I doubted that it would have enough juice for to get back up, or to fly across in a single jump. Id need to figure out how the Pilgrim had managed to get over.
I was fairly certain that I had to be in a decent vicinity of where the Pilgrim himself had been walking. Id started from the point hed been found and traveled almost directly West from there. Id encountered the black sand, which represented the first of the landmarks Id expected. It was possible Id deviated a bit since then, or that the Pilgrim had taken an odd route, but Id bet that I was within a reasonable approximation of his path. Id have to be, I didnt relish the idea of jumping for it. I turned Northeast and started walking. Reasoning that since the ground was sloped upward a bit, the Pilgrim may have naturally walked a bit south easterly to move with the slope.
I eventually saw what I was looking for. At a perfectly flat patch of wall, were several hooks driven into the wall. They appeared to be handholds going all the way down to the bottom of the Cut. Near them was a small bag. I opened it to find more of the hooks, and two well worn hamrs. There were no ropes. The average deadman was about two tis as strong as a human, give or take a child or two. To climb up a sheer surface for a mile, driving in hand holds as you went, with no rope.. Even for a deadman, that was suicide. There was sothing driving the Pilgrim, and I wouldnt be surprised if the exertion hed been through had been part of what killed him.
I took a breath, and exhaled slowly. I was stronger than most deadn, and had a number of abilities that made even stronger, but looking straight down, I didnt relish what I was going to have to do. I grabbed the bag of hooks and hamrs, thinking it better to have them and not need them, then the alternative, had a quick al of at and a long draught of water, then started my climb.
It was easy at first. Id lower myself down, testing the hook with my feet, put my weight on it, then repeat. As I moved downward, I started to tire though. The Pilgrim had been shorter than I was, and so the hooks were awkwardly spaced for my own climb downward, forcing to exert far more effort than I wouldve needed to otherwise. When I was halfway I put my foot down with a bit too much force and briefly lost my footing. I gasped, clinging to the hooks that held my hands. I cald down, and awkwardly made my way down to the next one. From there on it was easy, if tedious and tiring, to make it the rest of the way down.
The rads continued to increase to a level higher than anything Id experienced before, and I once again felt the heat building inside grow into an odd state of equilibrium with it. I jumped down the last ten feet, eager to put my feet solidly back on terra firma. I let out a breath, then pulled out my canteen and had another long sip of water as I leaned against the wall. It was dark, and I could see the moon and stars hanging above seemingly cut off where the edges of the cliffs above obscured my vision. I was tired, but I wanted to try to make it to the other side before I made camp. I walked in a straight line to the other side of the cliff, thinking that was the most logical point in which to place more climbing hooks. When I reached it though, I found none. I was stuck at the bottom of the cliff.
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