Chương 345: Chapter Thirty - Dog Gone

"In the early 2020's, on average, 69% of all households had a pet. Now, that number is closer to 36%! Now it's far less common to have a furry friend. That's why services like ours exist! Petpetzoo allows you to have your very own lifelong companion for as little as 1500Cr/Mo* for you to pet, cuddle, and play with, and you never need to bring them home!"

--Petpetzoo frontpage, 2039 It was surprisingly tense, walking across hip-high displays with colourful toys on them, and past larger signs and cardboard cut-outs of action-figure heroes. I duly noted that there were a lot of samurai-themed toys. Little action figures with changeable weapons and gear, and towards the back of the store, for the older customers, were posed figurines. I wonder what Deus Ex would think if she came to our place and found a figurine of herself in a glass case.

I was pretty sure we might still have a museum case or two left over too.

"The Kittens would love this place," I said.

"Though they'd make a mess of it." I pressed inwards, then froze as I heard something off to my side. Plastic crinkling, which was a distinct enough sound. I slowly turned in the direction of the noise and noticed a few boxes of toys discarded across the floor. I brought my Laser Pointer up and listened past the drumming of my heartbeat. The noise came again, and this time I was able to pinpoint its location.

I fired a trio of shots into a display a moment before a model three--now very much injured--came scrambling around to earn a fourth bullet to the face. More aliens came pouring out of nooks and crannies. Mostly model threes, but a few fours and fives. Not that it really mattered. They were injured already and even if they knew they were under attack, they had no way of knowing where I was yet.

I walked around a display, using it as partial cover while I gunned down each alien that stuck its head out or went charging down one of the store's corridors.

"Resonator," I said before chucking a grenade to the entrance. Some of them had noticed the militia parked outside and were running out. They were getting gunned down, of course, but I didn't want to risk one of them getting lucky and ripping up one of the militia guys out there. We only had so many competent soldiers on our side, no point in losing one because of rank stupidity. When the room quieted down once more except for the high-pitched whine of that resonator, I lowered my guard and my gun.

"Nice place, but maybe we should wait before visiting it," I said as I kicked the head of a very dead model three. You should consider spending some time with your Kittens.

"I got them stuff," I said. I started to make my way deeper into the room. The aliens had to have come from the basement or something.

"And where we're living it's... like, not comparable to where we lived before. They have their own rooms and a working shitter, not to mention three meals a day." Yes, that's true. You've done well by them financially and when it comes to their physical needs. But if you want to form any sort of emotional attachment, you'll need to spend actual time with them. I considered it for a moment, then shrugged.

"Yeah, you're probably right." There was a door behind the sales counter at the back. The bottom half of the door had been ripped apart, little bits of presswood scattered across the floor. I vaulted over the countertop, then leaned my head close. No noise on the other side. I usually am.

"So, oh wise AI living in my head, what would you suggest I do with the Kittens?" I asked. I didn't have the first clue what to do with them to build bonds or whatever. I opened the door, then pointed my gun in while I swept the room. It wasn't much more than a storage space with a desk in the back and a vending machine for employees. There was another door though, and, I noted, a staircase leading down. Bingo. Anything that has you spending time with them. Perhaps visit a dog park?

"A... dog park?" I asked. Yes. Here, this is a list of Google searches made by the Twins: Myalis opened up a small screen in the corner of my vision, and I quickly read through the list while pausing my search. How to pet dogs? The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Do dogs like it when you touch them? How to tell a dog you love it? Cute dogs Dogs being cute How to say hi to a dog?

"Okay," I said.

"So the Twins have a thing for dogs. That's... actually kind of cute. But we have a pet dog. Sorta." Catkiller was an interesting addition to our household. I wasn't sure how I felt about the big lump, and he mostly seemed content to stay out of my way.

"But yeah, sure, visit a dog park. We can do that." I'm merely looking out for your social and mental health.

"I'm not complaining," I said as I moved closer to the stairs. I stopped before reaching them as I heard a clicking from the staircase.

"I need something explosive and quiet." Explosives don't generally work quietly. Perhaps... a UV-based sterilisation grenade? It's almost entirely quiet, but quite bright. I would have to strongly advise that you don't stand near it as it goes off, but that advice works for most explosives anyway.

"Sure, I'll try it," I said. What I got was a roundish grenade covered in little panels that I suspected could pop open. A thumb-tab on the side had the very simple controls needed to use it. I flicked the 'nade on, then rolled it ahead so that it wouldn't make too much noise. It still clunked a few times as it dropped down the stairs, but the stairs had these rubber pads on them so it wasn't all that loud.

Then the grenade went off and the room filled with a blinding white-purple light that had me flinching back, and I wasn't even in the direct line of fire. With the gun up, I moved to the edge of the staircase and aimed down. There was a body at the bottom, a model four, tentacles splayed out everywhere. It looked like it had been flash-cooked on half of its body. The rest didn't look much better, with flesh looking partially melted.

"These were hit by the nanomachines," I said. Yes. Judging from what I can see, they have come into contact with some of the nanomachines we've dispersed through the tunnel networks. Wherever they're coming from, it's linked to the greater hive. That's likely for the best.

"Because otherwise that would mean that we're dealing with another offshoot here?" I asked. Exactly. Yeah, that made a sort of horrific sense. I climbed down the stairs carefully, keeping my weight low and my gun ready to shoot anything that moved. Fortunately, nothing did. The stairs had a rail along their side with a lift at the bottom, probably so that employees could bring boxes up and down. The rest of the space was filled with shelves partially filled with boxes.

It was all neat and organised, or probably had been before someone dug a hole out of the far wall.

"Whelp, I'm guessing that's where they came from," I said as I eyed the jagged-edged hole. What little light I had coming in from the floor above didn't carry down into the tunnel, and my low-light vision was struggling a little with the far end of the tunnel. Not enough light, I supposed. I could hear scrabbling and scratching from further within, but it was faint and a little distant.

"Alright, so do I just plug this hole and hope for the best? Or..." I looked around the room. Yeah, there was some space here.

"I could turn this room into a killing field. Let them keep charging in to die all day." Eventually, whatever defences you put down will be overwhelmed.

"Right," I said. And that would be playing for time while giving the aliens the edge. Not the brightest of moves.

"In that case... Myalis, I need a few things..." In the end, I settled on three larger cat drones, all of them about hip-high and bristling with weapons, as well as a dozen smaller drones, the size of actual house-cats. I watched the drones file into the tunnel. They had explosives on them that would go off once they were taken out of action. Then, as a final fuck-you to the aliens, I plugged the hole up. First by tossing in a few proximity-triggered grenades.

Everything from FOOF-dispersal bombs to plain old resonators, then with a couple of expanding-foam grenades that I slapped onto the walls around the entrance. By the time I was leaving the basement, the hole was filling with sticking white foam that was already hardening to the consistency of cement.

"Okay, now let's see how many fires appeared while I was distracted with this one," I muttered.