It was settled now—W admitted he couldn't do it on his own. All he could do was ask her to take him with her.
After a moment of thought, W said, "Pei Ran, could I ask you one more favor? Can you try reconnecting the wires that were torn when I broke apart?"
Pei Ran replied coolly, "Reconnect them how? I can't even tell what's what inside your mess."
W said, "Technically, the internal schematics of a Defense Department patrol unit like me are classified… but given the circumstances, I'm sending them to you."
Her wristband vibrated. A sleek 3D schematic appeared.
Pei Ran dragged the 3D model onto her virtual screen and zoomed in.
The sphere's anatomical diagram rotated on screen.
Core processor, hover system, weapons system—everything was laid bare.
But Pei Ran immediately noticed something—W had subtly tampered with the diagram.
The storage areas, including the mini drive he had just asked about, had all their labels scrubbed clean.
Flawlessly, too—no sign of tampering.
Pei Ran gave her disclaimer: "I'll do my best following the diagram, but if something breaks, it's not my fault."
"Of course," W said.
He asked, "Do you see the lower folding arms? I think they're stuck."
Pei Ran had already seen them.
Above the hover system were two retractable metal arms, similar to those on standard patrol drones—hidden inside the sphere when not in use.
The last time she saw one—CT105—those arms had pinned her wrist, almost blowing her head off.
W's arms hadn't been ripped, and they seemed intact, but the cables linking them to his core were a tangled mess, and the shell had wedged one arm in tightly.
Pei Ran started untangling the wires. "Some are broken. I'd have to open the core to fix them properly, but I'll see if I can reconnect what I can."
She carefully followed the schematic he'd sent and fiddled for quite a while before saying, "I've done what I can. Try moving."
The sphere's hidden arms twitched, then slowly extended.
Still feeble and imprecise, but at least they moved.
W was clearly satisfied.
He said, "Pei Ran, thank you."
Then he automatically switched to his "bubble voice" and said again, in a low, husky murmur near her ear, "Pei Ran, thank you."
That whisper, right by her ear, was oddly… intimate.
"You're welcome," she said.
She hadn't reconnected the wires completely on purpose.
This orb was cagey—clearly hiding something.
Letting him move, but not freely, was just right.
Pei Ran pushed the cracked shell back into place.
Ignoring the long split down its side, the thing more or less looked like a sphere again.
W thanked her and added, "Last night, I sent a signal—tried to contact Blackwell Base."
Pei Ran looked at him in surprise. In this kind of communication blackout, he could still get a signal through?
W explained, "Military encrypted channels aren't affected yet. They're sending someone to extract us—but only old antique vehicles still work, so it'll be slow."
If someone was coming for him, did that mean he didn't need her to bring him to Blackwell?
Pei Ran started worrying about her meds.
But W continued, "Still, I think things could get worse at any moment. Whether help comes or not, we should head to Blackwell ourselves. I'll keep in contact with them as we travel—if all goes well, we can link up with the team on the way. Don't worry—once we get to Blackwell, I will get you your medicine."
He paused. "From what they're saying, military outposts are still under attack. We have to prepare for the worst—that we'll have to reach Blackwell on our own."
Pei Ran made a sound of acknowledgment in her mind, then wrapped the sphere in a scarf and grabbed her pack.
In times like this, the smart move would be to find a secure hideout and wait it out like Aisha.
Not to march 2,300 kilometers.
But she had no choice.
As long as she still had meds left, heading straight for Blackwell was the only rational—and only possible—option.
Her goals in this world had been simple: eat, survive.
Now she had a third—get the medicine.
Pei Ran said, "I need to find a vehicle. Blackwell is 2,300 kilometers away. You don't expect me to walk there, do you?"
W replied calmly, "Twenty years ago, the Federal Transit Authority ran a pilot program. They discovered that installing AI control systems in hover vehicles could bring traffic accidents down to near zero. So they passed legislation—every hovercar had to be fully AI-controlled. And the AI's authority overrides the human driver's."
Pei Ran: "So?"
W: "So those AI systems are deeply integrated with the entire car. Removing them isn't a small fix—it requires a full overhaul. That's why antique manually-operated vehicles are now incredibly valuable."
He asked, "Where do you think you're going to find one of those?"
Right now, everyone was scrambling for antique cars. Even one was a rare prize.
Pei Ran: "Relax. I've got my eye on one."
She left the building with her pack.
It wasn't even 6 a.m. yet. The sky was gray and dim, the cold air damp. Towering buildings disappeared into the mist, their tops blending into the cloudy sky.
Dried bloodstains marked the streets.
The grocery store from yesterday gaped open—its shelves stripped bare.
No sound.
The dead-silent city was a stagnant pool of dull gray.
It was as if every single person had vanished.
Pei Ran avoided the main roads and darted through narrow alleys like a cat.
W tracked their path. "Back to Hank Street?"
In the lifeless quiet, his voice was the only one in her ear.
Pei Ran: "Yeah."
She moved quickly, familiar with the route now. Soon, she reached the alley next to Worrin Pharmacy.
It looked the same as when she left—scraps of cardboard still torn and strewn everywhere.
She stepped over the mess and approached a small forklift parked by the wall.
W went quiet. "You're planning to drive that to Blackwell?"
Pei Ran: "Bubble voice."
W: "..."
The forklift was parked some distance from the street. Its front lift frame was cracked, but the rest of it seemed intact.
Pei Ran circled it.
Its chassis was painted bright orange-red, cartoonish and bulky—like a giant toy.
There was only one seat. It was barely half the width of a normal vehicle, perfect for squeezing through alleys.
Best of all, it was purely mechanical. Steering wheel, two levers for the forks, brake, and gas.
No clutch. No autopilot. A basic dashboard.
Clearly designed for short-range warehouse work.
Old. Ground-bound. Not a trace of automation.
She looked at the dashboard. Model number: HB-8403.
She asked, "Your all-knowing database—does it say whether this thing has any voice features? Like AI interaction?"
W didn't pause. In his smooth baritone, he said,
"HB-8403 electric forklift. Manufactured by Youli Group, twenty years ago. Powered by electric cells. Fully manual. No voice interface. It's safe."
It sounded like he was selling it for twenty thousand credits.
In that same silky voice, he added, "The problem is… stealing it could be tricky. I'm not sure how you'd start it while it's still locked."
He thought aloud. "You might have to crack open the dash and hotwire it. Pei Ran, give me a moment to find a wiring diagram and common theft methods. I'll need some time—"
He didn't finish.
Pei Ran had already walked off.
W: Huh?
The pharmacy's broken door was still ajar.
Just one night had passed, and the shelves were already picked clean.
No people. No patrol bots, either.
Pei Ran made straight for the medicine counter.
Next to it was a door marked "STAFF ONLY."
The door was slightly open.
On the wall beside it, a hook held a ring of keys.
Pei Ran grabbed the ring, swiftly selected one, and slipped out.
W, forgetting his bubble voice, asked icily, "How did you know it was that one?"
Pei Ran held it up.
There was a sticker on the key.
It read: FORKLIFT.
W: "..."
Pei Ran: "Your observational skills need work."
W defended himself: "This scarf you wrapped me in limits my vision. Sometimes I can't see things."
Now that he had something resembling a sphere again, she didn't need the scarf.
Back in the alley, Pei Ran pulled a piece of string from a trash bin—the kind used to bundle cardboard.
After fiddling for a while, she tied the string around the orb, looped the other end into a strap, and slung it across her shoulder like a bag. Very convenient.
Dangling from the rope, the metal ball spun a full 360 degrees.
Now with full visual range restored, he was very pleased.
"Thank you," he said, using the bubble voice.
"You're welcome," Pei Ran said.
He rotated again. "I'm just a little curious… where exactly did you tie the string? It feels very secure."
Pei Ran glanced down.
The string ran through a crack in the shell, looped tightly around his glowing blue core, and was knotted firmly.
"Tied it around your brain."
"My what?"
Pei Ran corrected, "Your head."
She climbed into the single driver's seat, inserted the key, and turned it.
All the indicator lights lit up.
W: "Have you ever driven a forklift before?"
Pei Ran: "No."
W paused. "Would you like me to find you a manual? I have one."
Pei Ran: "No need."
It was simple. Gas and brake.
Even a toddler could drive it.
She threw her backpack in the back, the metal ball hanging from the front, and hit the gas.
The forklift rolled forward—smooth, steady.
W hesitated.
"I know talking too much can strain our relationship, but I should mention… under Federal Safety Law, all forklifts are required to have a speed limiter. So this thing's top speed is probably only ten kilometers per hour."
The forklift crept forward under Pei Ran's foot.
"..." she said.
"Can that thing—the limiter—be removed?" she asked.
W replied coldly and slowly, "Obviously not. If it were easy to remove, installing them wouldn't be mandatory in the first place."
Pei Ran reminded him, "Voice."
W switched instantly to a velvety low murmur in her ear,
"In short… no."
Basically, stop dreaming.
Ten kilometers per hour.
About as fast as a human jog.
But still better than walking.
Pei Ran straightened in her seat.
"Ten kilometers an hour is fine. That's 2,300 kilometers in 230 hours. Less than ten days—we'll make it to Blackwell."
W: "Assuming you don't sleep. Or eat chips."
He added, "And I only mentioned chips to clarify your assumptions—not to reopen the constipation conversation."
Pei Ran enunciated slowly:
"What. Did. You. Just. Say?"
W quickly switched to bubble voice and answered gently:
"Uh… nothing."