The touching reunion between the child and the creature was cut short by my own urgency. I needed data.
AIN buzzed around my body as I pulled away.
[AIN]: "I have completed the analysis of both blood samples. The findings are urgent."
Without hesitation, I signaled AIN to follow. We quickly went inside the bunker.
"Report," I commanded."What did we find?"
[AIN]: "Analysis complete. The creature is a stable genetic hybrid of what was known as a wolf—vertebrate structure with disparate DNA, likely the result of successful, long-term genetic engineering. Its blood contains a unique, fast-acting neural inhibitor compound, consistent with its design as a highly effective predator."
[AIN]: "The child's original body is genetically 100% human, virtually identical to pre-Collapse Homo sapiens. However, it carries the universal faceless mutation seen everywhere."
[AIN]: "Crucially, the tissue is biologically less than seventeen years old. The child was born into this post-Collapse world, proving that a pocket of pure human life survived the three centuries of silence."
[AIN]: "His existence fundamentally alters our understanding. Pure, breeding human life survived the cataclysm, carrying the same sightless mutation as the engineered hybrids."
AIN finished, its voice momentarily dropping its clinical tone to convey genuine astonishment.
"Let's ask him ourselves," I stated, immediately turning and moving toward the bunker exit.
We found the child outside. My circuits had fully integrated the new language; I was ready to speak with near-perfect fluency.
"Where are you from?" I demanded, the question sharp with urgency.
Child: "I belong to the forest."
The evasion was frustrating."You'll have to give a bit more detail," I insisted, allowing a trace of impatience into my voice.
Child: "I grew up in a village far from here, across the wide river. It's about a month's travel... That was five years ago."
I deliberately ignored the confusing mention of the five-year gap.
"Does this companion have a name? What's your name?" I asked, projecting the words clearly.
The child gave an affirmative tilt of his body, a gesture that conveyed a faint smile.
Child: "My companion is my saviour, Lily. My name is Menko; it means autumn. What is your name?"
"There's no need for you to know my name," I stated, the synthesized tone flat and final.
"Right now, I need answers. I am from three hundred years ago, and you should not be here."
Menko processed the impossible timeline without flinching, his body remaining perfectly steady despite the colossal claim.
Menko: "As you can see, I'm here, alive and well thanks to you. But why do you say I should not be here?"
[AIN]: "Well, you see, we are from three hundred years ago as stated. The world was... beautiful. You might not grasp the importance, but society was globally united, until—"
"You will stop right there," I commanded, my voice slicing through AIN's historical narrative. "He has heard enough for now."
I fixed my attention entirely on Menko. "Would you be able to guide me to the village?"
Menko: "Yes, I remember the path very well. It is a long journey, but I know the way."
The conversation died. For a few silent hours, the child and his creature, Lily, simply existed near the bunker entrance.
"Menko, stay here, in the bunker, with me."
He accepted instantly, his body vibrating with palpable relief.
The arrangement was settled, but the profound question remained: Five years. He had been utterly alone since leaving his village. I was intensely curious. What does he know about this current world that I don't?
The cold, metallic air of the bunker settled around us as I continued my interrogation. AIN hovered silently nearby.
"How old are you?" I asked Menko.
Menko: "I would be fifteen now," he replied.
"How did you survive on your own for those five years?" I pressed, emphasizing the difficulty of his isolation.
Menko: "I was not alone. Lily was with me the entire time. We survived just as anyone in a forest: foraging and hunting. This land is rich in supplies."
"Any threats? Any animal like Lily that roams around?" I asked, a deep concern shaping my inquiry.
Menko: "Not at all. Creatures like Lily are not seen anywhere else but near my village."
I was genuinely bewildered. "Why is that?"
Menko: "How would I know? They've been there as long as I can remember. They are easily tamed and are friendly."
I decided to halt the interrogation. The questions could wait; the child's mind needed rest.
"That's enough for tonight," I projected, the tone final. "Tomorrow, I will show you something."
He nodded, a sudden, unmistakable energy entering his posture.
His movements were fluid, expressive, conveying an intense, joyful curiosity. For the first time since the transfer, it was as if he had finally been allowed to be a child.
I turned to AIN, establishing the final protocol for the night.
"AIN, initiate passive surveillance. Check the child and the creature every four hours," I commanded. "Notify me if anything changes."
[AIN]: "Protocol accepted. Commencing cycle."
I quickly found a resting area and initiated my internal shutdown sequence, plunging my mind into a deep sleep cycle.
The internal clock within my body signaled the start of the day. I initiated my systems.
"Menko," I projected. "Wake up."
Menko's body quickly sat up. His companion, Lily, was already alert, her massive form shifting, ready to move.
"Two kilometers from here is a farm. Do you know what a farm is?" I asked Menko.
He gave me a puzzled look, the smooth curve of his faceless shell conveying total bewilderment.
He didn't know. Despite the fully integrated language now in his mind, the concept was alien.
I couldn't help but smile slightly.
The depth of his ignorance was a revelation in itself. "Follow me," I said, the word a promise and a command.
The three of us—myself, Menko, and the massive, silent Lily—walked across the rough terrain toward the distant farm.The silence was broken by a thought that had been nagging at me.
"I remember clearly that you communicated with Lily that day," I stated.
Menko: "What about it?"
"How is it that you can talk to her?"
The path was rough, yet Menko's response to my question was dismissively simple, as if the answer should be obvious.
Menko: "It's nothing too complicated. I've been with her my whole life... Of course we understand each other."
"It's obvious enough," I conceded, feeling a prickle of fascination and frustration. "It's just the first time I've ever seen anything like it."
Menko: "Maybe you should try talking to her?"
I hesitated, then made a short, questioning noise toward Lily.
The massive creature merely tilted her head, her huge body unmoving, completely unresponsive to my voice.
It was clearly something else entirely. It wasn't about speech. It was a connection that Menko couldn't articulate, but that existed all the same.
We finally reached the farm.
I asked him, "Does this look familiar?"
Menko's hand drifted toward the patch, the motion tentative and laced with awe.
Menko: "I... I haven't seen anything like these before. But why is the soil over there slightly raised on top? It looks so deliberate."
"It makes it easier to harvest the potatoes. In your village—the place you came from—how did people get their fruits and vegetables?"
Menko paused, the memory surfacing with a subtle shift in his posture.
Menko: "There's a place around the village; it's very bountiful, rich with growth. We never needed to do this 'farming' you speak of. Everything was just... there."
A bountiful village? That detail bothered me. If food was simply there for the taking, why was he here? It made no sense. The boy held a secret, and I needed to find out what it was.
I led Menko to the small, raised patch of earth beside the foundation.
"This is the farm," I explained.
"We plant food here intentionally, so we never have to rely on sheer luck to find it again."
Menko: "The harvest is easier?" he asked, looking towards the farm.
"It will be. And look here," I continued, moving toward the cuboidal box. "This is the compost. It's how we make the soil strong and rich."
I briefly detailed the process: "We take all the organic waste—rotten leaves, old fruit—and layer them. The earthworms help break it all down over time."
I emphasized the system's importance.
"This decomposition creates a natural fertilizer. That fertilizer strengthens the soil, and the rich soil then feeds the potatoes. It's a continuous, closed system."
I looked at him. "This practice is essential. It lets us stack food—we create a reserve instead of having to scavenge day after day. In this world, we stop taking risks and start ensuring survival."
The child who had known only wild abundance, untouched forests, and effortless foraging… was seeing, for the first time in his life, the idea of building life instead of simply taking it.
His hand hovered over the raised soil bed, almost reverently.
Menko: "Can… can I learn to make one too?"
I paused, letting the question settle in the quiet air between us.
His voice held a spark I had not seen before. A desire for stability. For control. For a future.
I knew then that the next chapter of our strange journey would begin with exactly that.
I pointed to an untouched patch of earth beside the farm.
"Today," I said, my voice firm but steady. "You'll make your own."