In a distant future humanity achieved such a level of technological advancement it was able to breach the borders of three-dimensional reality and move to the multiverses of multidimensions. But some of us were too afraid to move on. So, they stayed...
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Sha Cyborg Zumm entered my tent. The head of my own security group. A grizzled, strong man, with muscles "carved out of stone" and flint brains, as the participants of the expedition rumored due to the fact that he wore a metal hoop on his head. It seemed to someone that it went deep under his skin, and inside was the ancient technology of Outs that our great ancestors used on genetically imperfect people to compensate for their shortcomings.
Cyborg didn't look like a person with flaws. Except that his silent gaze radiated a certain contempt for me, unnoticeable in the eyes of other members of the expedition. Admittedly, this annoyed me, but, having got used to envy since school, I did not interpret his look as hostile. I was just waiting for my opportunity to surprise him in order to change his attitude towards myself. But for now, I had to be surprised.
"There is news, Owner," the man said, looking at the drawing of the carpet in front of him. The carpet depicted a sea serpent in a fight with a whale.
"How many times have I asked you not to call me Owner."
"Excuse me, Master Bike."
"Go on," I nodded, going back to my notes.
"There is unrest in the camp."
I silently continued to study the book I found in the palace of the Salat Sarai.
"There's a rumor that the girl we took in the ruins thinks you're a demon. And you know how... superstitious our sailors are."
I didn't look up at Sha Zumm, but I stopped reading.
"Two of them got into the tent where she was being held, and she told them such things that I had to string them up on a dry tree at the entrance to the camp."
Now I was silently looking straight at the man, whose shadow was dancing jerkily in the uneven light of the gas burners.
"But I couldn't stop the fire. Soon the whole camp will know that you are Ogunter Lag, the great worm, the cause of Iria's destruction. Many of our expedition are the children of Irian slaves."
"What nonsense," I said wearily, holding my head in my hands, "is it really superstition that can destroy the expedition of the Trade Federation."
"Superstitions are capable of more than that, Master Bike."
There was an uncomfortable silence. I felt the muscles on my arms shaking, and asked:
"And what do you suggest?"
"We should leave."
"In what way?"
"In the only way possible, Master Bike, you need to take what you can carry on the long journey and we'll go into the ruins, and from there through the desert to Minea," and he threw two backpacks on the floor, "I have collected what will allow us to survive until we find reliable sources of food and water."
