It’s a foundation stake, Coeus said. An installation designed to provide basic necessities support for areas that have yet to be developed by the Titan network. Look down there at the bottom.
I looked down to see a small door at the base of the pillar. It opened automatically to reveal an inner compartment with an electric outlet inside. There was a second little door which concealed a water tap.
The upper part of the pillar functions as a self-sustaining power generator, much like the Electrode. It uses part of that energy to draw in humidity from the atmosphere and ground and condenses it into potable water.
I had to wonder, though—was there anyone even around here to make use of this thing? What could a glorified power outlet in the middle of a desolate tundra possibly need to provide with an electric charge?
They’ve been airdropped by the network, generally at equidistant points, in any areas in which there might be a need for them. Because they provide the absolute minimum functionality required to sustain life, we cannot afford any gaps in their coverage. This is why you can find them even in places like this, where the chances of them being used are statistically quite low. Full-spectrum service is the idea.
“Wow. Guess a lot of them never get used.”
I snapped a photo of the noble spire, looming imposingly against a backdrop of overcast skies. Then we hopped back in the crawler and set off through the marshlands once more. Through the rear window, I watched as the foundation stake grew smaller as we left it to continue its work in dutiful solitude. And it was work, to be sure—at least insofar as anything the Titan network did qualified as work—even if the fruits of the tower’s labor might never be actually put to use. I wondered if there was any purpose, or any semblance of meaning to be found in such eternal futility.
“Surely it must mean something…” I whispered softly to myself.
On the inside, though, I really wasn’t all that sure.
Just as the sun began to set, we spotted a wispy trail of smoke rising up from just over a nearby knoll. Following the smoke to its source on the other side, we soon spotted a very large camping tent, and a young boy standing outside it. We opted to park the crawler a safe distance away and approach the campsite on foot so as not to seem threatening, but as soon as the boy saw we were coming, he retreated into the tent. A short and stocky man with thick black hair emerged from the tent in the child’s place. The man looked native to the area; he had a strong yet calm countenance and greeted us with a broad smile that lacked any hint of animosity, despite clearly being a bit disoriented by our sudden trespass.
Speaking to him, I learned that he and his family were indeed of the Koryak people indigenous to this land, and from which the Koryak Autonomous Region took its name. Coeus pulled some additional information from his dictionary function, explaining that they were divided into two distinct groups: the coastal Koryaks who lived in villages and fished to survive, and the inland Koryaks who were a more nomadic people. Yakov and his family were of the latter camp.
Along with Yakov and his wife and son, the family traveled with four reindeer and three dogs. They conversed primarily in Russian, which unfortunately I still didn’t speak a lick of, but Coeus came to the rescue and showed off the strength and versatility of the Titan network’s real-time interpretation capability. Even in this isolated corner of the world, far from civilization, I found myself utterly dependent on Titan.
This being a unique opportunity for both of us, we stood outside his family’s tent and talked for a bit. The first thing that amazed me was just how wrong my preconceived notions about nomadic peoples were. In my ignorance, I’d always imagined that still to this day, families like Yakov’s wore traditional handcrafted clothes and lived in giant circular tents made of animal pelts—but these people wore Western-style clothing, which, while a bit tattered, bore the same brand labels one might find on display in Tokyo. Their tent was also not made of furs, but was a prefab affair made from the same composite materials that camping enthusiasts used today. According to Yakov, it was more than durable enough, and far easier to set up and take down. In this way, I learned that even peoples living in the remotest regions of the earth benefitted quite a bit from Titan’s labors.
Perhaps the most unexpected culture shock of all, though, was that their son, who looked to be about six, was in possession of a holofield gaming console. Dangling from his waist were five or six batteries for the device in a bandolier-like belt attachment that made him look a bit like a cowboy. He told me he’d brought as many of the things as he could carry when his family left their village, and whenever the batteries ran out of juice, he would recharge them at the foundation stake we’d happened upon earlier.
He then challenged me to battle him in a one-on-one fighting game, so we played a few rounds right then and there. Being the newcomer, I did about as poorly as one might expect, and the boy boasted gleefully throughout as to how effortlessly he was decimating me. Coeus quickly grew agitated and vowed to avenge my honor by challenging the boy himself—but I put the kibosh on that. I had no doubt that Coeus could easily win such a duel, but I explained to him that doing something purely to spite someone else, especially when they have a distinct advantage, was extremely petty and immature. So instead, Coeus simply glared grumpily at the boy.
Having been thoroughly bested, I walked back to the crawler wagon and grabbed an extra battery from the equipment compartment and to the victor gave the spoils. Since all of the equipment the bureau had furnished our nautical HQ with was top of the line, this battery was far more powerful than the older models the boy had. When I told him this one would last nearly thirty times as long, he literally jumped for joy.
Yakov, seeing this, offered me some reindeer meat by way of thanks, sawing off a kilogram or so from a much larger cut with a hunting knife. From time immemorial, the inland Koryak people’s entire way of life had revolved around reindeer, so I attempted to accept the gift with the appropriate level of reverence. I reached out with both hands and gratefully accepted this kilogram’s worth of the fruits of Yakov’s labor.
The bonfire cast its light across the campsite, lashing away at the ever-encroaching darkness of the night. Steam rose like smoke signals from the bulky iron pot. Unable to hold out even a minute longer, I scooped some of the simmering soup into my bowl and hurried back into the warm comfort of our vehicle.
“God, it’s freezing out there!” I exclaimed as I hoisted myself up onto the seat, some of the hot broth spilling out over the rim of my bowl and onto Coeus’s lap in the process. Panic at my mistake struck me nearly as quickly as Coeus’s response to it: his pixies moved out of the way to let the soup fall unobstructed onto the seat below him.
After saying goodbye to Yakov and his family, we’d hunkered down to spend the night by ourselves in the middle of the wide open tundra. Our equipment compartment contained a tent like Yakov’s, but it was much too cold outside for a city slicker like me, so we’d opted to sleep in the crawler’s cab. Thankfully, this thing had heating, or else I likely would have frozen to death.
Miss Seika, your face is all red.
“Like I said, it’s cold outside… I can barely feel my fingertips.”
Cupping the bowl in my palms, I let the heat from the soup slowly thaw out my frost-nipped hands. On the menu this evening was a soup with a reindeer base. I looked over at Coeus; he would not be able to dine with me tonight, as we’d left his artificial mouth back on the Titan.
Please eat. I’ll try some when we get back.
So considerate, this boy.
“Well, then. Don’t mind if I do,” I said, scooping out a big chunk of meat with my spoon. I was still a little wary as I ferried it to my mouth—I’d eaten wild rabbit before at a fancy restaurant, but never something as exotic as reindeer. To my suprise, it wasn’t gamey at all. It was pretty good. “Huh. Reindeer tastes better than I thought.”
I’m glad!
“We can make this again after we get home. Plenty of meat leftover.”