Apocalypse: Fairy System Macronomicon (a book to read txt) 📖

are natural, in the grand scheme of things. What’s the difference between a bird’s nest and a cheap motel in the eyes of the gods? They were both made by animals to breed in.

I wonder if I could visit Silicon Valley and find an AI lens. See if it takes over the world.

Let’s see, there’s all the nature lenses found in Oregon, the beetle lens, the worm lens, the Annihilation lens, the flame lenses.

The control lens was specifically described as arising because of the behavior of people.

Hmm…

Jeb would give even odds that lenses which created advanced sapient-made constructs were either extremely rare or nonexistent.

Still, couldn’t hurt to visit a few tourist traps on the way south. If I can find a candy factory with a candy lens in it, I won’t have to worry about paying Smartass ever again.

Gotta visit that gas station and see if he could grab one of those analog maps.

Jeb spotted a dark lump on the ground moments before he ran over it.

What’s a chunk of pavement doing torn out of the ground? Jeb thought, pulling up short and hopping out.

“What is it?” Brav asked.

“This pavement is outta place,” Jeb called back, flipping it over with his foot. The dark asphalt radiated heat from the sun beating down on it. Jeb glanced around, but couldn’t see any place it might have come from.

“Oh, a sun lens variant,” Brav said. The orange-skinned man knelt down to inspect the chunk of asphalt. “Good eye.”

Jeb hadn’t noticed it radiating sunlight or the smell of asphalt with his Myst senses, because in this weather, everything radiated sunlight and the smell of asphalt.

“You found it, it’s yours.” The wagoneer shrugged and stood.

“These common?” Jeb asked, picking up the lens and wincing as it scalded his hand. He wrapped his sleeve around it, finally noticing the sunlight rolling off of it.

“Pretty common in deserts. Aristocrats put a higher value on dappled sun lenses or grassy sun lenses, forest sun, or river sun—pretty much anything that smells nice or is refreshing. I haven’t seen that variant before, but I’ll bet you a sun lens that makes the room smell like tar won’t sell for a whole lot. You’ll get maybe a bulb for it? Maybe a handful of silver. Still not a bad find.”

“Fair enough,” Jeb said, loading the lens into the back seat with the rest of his gear before dumping ice-cold river water on himself again.

God, this lens is a lifesaver, Jeb thought, eyeing the damp river rock with a thin film of algae slime on it before putting it back in his pocket.

“Hey, you guys mind some detours?” Jeb asked, turning around and catching Brav’s attention. “There’s some places—”

ZZZ!

A squat, shiny brown ball of armor plating about the size of a basketball slammed into Brav’s side, tossing him into the ground.

The melas wagoneer let out a pained gasp, and Jeb spotted a proboscis about the size of his thumb slipped between the man’s ribs, blood welling around the wound.

ZZZ!

Jeb’s gaze flicked to the side, spotting dozens more chitinous balls flying through the air.

Flying toward him.

Chapter 9: Local Culture, Friendly Wildlife

“Shit!” Jeb stopped, dropped and rolled, lumps of armor plating flying above him. He rolled under the lifted Jeep, heart hammering in his ears.

Jeb whipped his forty-four out of the holster. He was too busy to feel the pain of the asphalt scalding his skin, or where the sudden jerk had banged his elbow against the metal underside of the car.

He was focused on Brav.

From his position under the car, Jeb could hear the creatures rebounding off the metal hood, clattering softly onto the ground on either side. And he could see the wagon driver’s plight, framed by the underside of the Jeep.

The basketball-sized creature attached to his chest was pulsing in a way that couldn’t possibly be good for him as the wagoneer tried to pry it off.

Jeb aimed as carefully as he could with the shit going on around him and put two bullets into the monster attached to Brav. He was rewarded with the creature flying off in a spray of blood, devastated by the human weapon.

Jeb was about to give himself the old mental back-pat when three more monsters hit the amiable wagoneer, pinning him to the ground and greedily sucking the moisture out of the man’s thigh, gut and neck.

Jeb’s eyes narrowed. One was survivable, but three… Jeb needed to take care of his own shit before trying to help a dead man.

Goddamnit.

Can’t stay here forever, Jeb thought, mind racing. He needed to find a place to shelter and think, and these things were numerous.

There were at least a dozen on the open asphalt between him and Brav, and who knew how many behind him.

Well, no time like the present.

He’d already been under the Jeep for a couple seconds, and the unattached creatures were unfolding into evil proboscis armadillos with thicc thighs. That’s where I draw the line.

In a couple more seconds, they were going to sniff him out, and Jeb didn’t want to get into a fight under a car. It just sounded like a losing proposition.

Jeb dropped the gun and reached up, snagging the guts of the Jeep and hauling himself in the direction opposite the creatures’ origin. If there was a clear spot to stand, it would be just behind the Jeep, where they physically couldn’t have landed.

Moving light and quick like a teenager was barely enough to stay ahead of the death balls crawling under the Jeep, looking for something to suck on. Jeb came to a stand behind the car in a little wedge of empty space. Everywhere else was filled with unrolling blood suckers.

Jeb took a quick breath and channeled a strand of Myst