Society was born because humans got sick of living in caves. The first night in this new world had firmly driven this thought into Rex's mind. He had slept on the floor plenty of times as a child, but this wasn't the same thing. Awoken constantly by hunger, or the pain of the hard ground when he moved wrong. He awoke filthily and barely slept.

 

The sun had just arisen and had barely cast light on the horizon. Rex didn't want to wait any longer though. He gathered all the ore he had mined the day before and used some thick leaves to make a bag. He put the ore inside it and then climbed up the roots of the tree above him. He would need to widen this opening in the future, as it was currently a bit tight.

 

The tree was of a type he hadn't seen before, looking like a weeping willow, with long palm-like leaves growing on it instead. He borrowed some vines that ran along the branches and cut them down using the pic. Using the vines he upgraded his bag into a crude backpack. He only had about 5 pounds of ore, and he had tried to trim the waste off to save space. The thought of smelting it had crossed his mind, as he had seen coal. He figured it was probably better to just ask at the exchange.

 

It was only roughly 3 miles to the exchange from here, but it was a rough patch. The more daunting part was carving marks into the trees. He had to make sure he could find his way back to his cave, while also making sure they weren't too obvious. It felt like he had to learn as he went, and he had been angry at himself the entire night. Why hadn't he realized theft would be a problem?

 

The undergrowth was thick, and vines were everywhere. He wished he had a machete since his pic kept getting caught in the vines. The backpack he had made kept falling apart, and he was getting eaten by bugs. Even Hawaii was much tamer than this place. It couldn't have been used for hundreds of years. He assumed the succubi had only been here the last few decades. Mosquitoes seemed to be the same everywhere though, or at least these bloodsuckers looked like them. Realizing he was becoming nostalgic over bugs, he hurried his steps.

 

Rex began to hurry as it became brighter and brighter. The idea that it may be faster to go to the shore, and then follow it to the exchange crossed his mind a few times. Then he realized if he was caught at the shore, he may not be able to escape. No one had any idea how many people were even on the island. People died every day on this island for a variety of reasons, he didn't want to be one of them.

 

The docks were coming into view, yet it was still really early. The sun wasn't fully out yet, it had taken him over an hour to walk here. His dirty clothes were now covered in pieces of plants as well. Hygiene would become a serious problem since he only had one set of clothes. He couldn't afford to move closer to the water source, since other prisoners would be there. defend their territory

 

Rex saw the docks but decided to play things safe. He hid the backpack with his ore in it in a bush. He had been watching carefully in case he was followed again. The thought of losing food for a second day nearly drove him mad. As a modern citizen, he had never gone more than a day without food before. It was much different when he wasn't the one in control of when he ate.

 

He went up the docks quickly, the docks were more of a natural stone formation that allowed a sailboat to dock comfortably. Stairs were carved into the stone that leads to the exchange, and the cave that leads to the commons. The whole area was covered in moss and was always damp. You needed to be careful or you would easily slip on the stone steps as nothing was uniform.

 

Rex carefully made his way up the stairs. The exchange was a small stone tower-shaped building without a roof. He guessed that it used to be a guard station that the succubi took over when the roof collapsed. They had bars installed over the door and traded through the slots. If you ever saw a succubus walking around, they were probably hunting.

 

Rex saw some other people gathered, which caused him to slow down. It was obvious the exchange hadn't opened yet, as no one was trading.

 

The succubi operated by their own rules. The exchange didn't have set hours, it depended on which succubus was in charge that day. They also didn't have set schedules and seemed to decide that day who would work. This meant the exchange rarely opened at the same time each day. And if too many customers were out front, it would intimidate the succubus. This might cause them to delay opening until things calmed down by themselves.

 

I don't understand enough about them...

 

The more he analyzed their behavior the less sense it made. He could only assume this must be a small branch of the succubi's territory. Something inconsequential to the whole, just like a chain store will have a bad branch or two. There was no way this was the intended model, it just didn't make sense.

 

Looking over the prisoners waiting to trade, he was again surprised. 6 goblins in a group with pickaxes standing at alert. 2 elves comprising of a younger and older elf, but both seemed middle-aged compared to humans. His impression of the elves was poor though after yesterday. One fellow looked like a walking tiger, he had a fierce look on his face. He also saw some bony figures wrapped tightly from head to toe in burlap. They appeared immensely frail, but even their fingers were wrapped in cloth.

 

He realized most of these people seemed to be older, even the tiger man had some gray furs. Fear and disgust were something he hadn't felt though. With his job, he had to accept anything that was shown to be effective. He didn't like how over-complicated electronic machinery was, but in some cases, it was just better. While he was shocked by how foreign it was to him, it had to have some advantage for them to evolve like that. Just like a nail can be replaced by a screw, but that doesn't mean the nail shouldn't exist.

 

Everyone was just silently waiting, Rex was trying to take in as many details as he could. As the minority, it was more likely he would have to adopt others' customs, over his own. Going overseas was nothing new to him, he worked hand-in-hand with armed forces everywhere.

 

Military contracts were incredibly strict. You want to make as much money as possible, and they want the best weapon possible. This means you have to meet very strict guidelines for what they want. Trigger length, safety clearance, ambidexterity, and spacing for logos were all things that had to be considered.

 

The beauty of society was like the things we had created with it. Every piece was like the master who created it, and they all came together just like the team. The product you hold in your hands is the culmination of all of their efforts. This is the case whether it is something like a gun or liquid like a vaccine.

 

It was like a tree, where the base and branches were one giant on top of another. And every leaf on the branches were the teams who came later and worked together to weave miracles out of what they inherited. Without the leaves, the tree would be ugly. Without the trunk and branches, the leaves would have no foundation to flourish. No one wanted to be one of the countless leaves, but if you were one of those countless leaves. You understand just how much hope those trunks and branches had in you.

 

Most researchers, and scientists, don't get to pass on their research to their children. Einstein, Tesla, Oppenheimer, you can find countless examples. None of their children carried on their life's work. If it hadn't been for those who came after, it would be bare branches on a trunk. Those people realize that one person will never be able to continue their dreams. The reason those people often become so invested in society was that society would birth the ones to carry on their dreams.

 

Rex had never considered himself a sentimental person. You couldn't be if you manufactured weapons. While he did it purely for the technical challenge it presented, it didn't change the fact he was making firearms. He stopped watching the news when he realized that he may be indirectly responsible for the weapons that appeared in shootings. His wife demanded he makes a certain salary, and he was forced to stay in the area. He had wanted a different job for a long time.

 

The reason these thoughts kept coming up, was just how alone he felt. He was hiding on the stairs, watching a group of prisoners waiting to trade for food and supplies. The closest experience he had was as a 22-year-old, fresh out of college. He was in a Russian port town, doing contracting work for a paint company. Being a foreigner he got lost, and some citizens saw him and were debating on aiding him. He thought they were persecuting him and became afraid. It was all a misunderstanding back then.

 

Now though he couldn't rely on society's sensibilities to protect him. He saw clearly that no one had any pity for him at all. This feeling of isolation was hard to bear. It was all he had as he tried to sleep. When you feel alone, you think of times that you weren't alone. This only causes you to feel more alone. Between the isolation or hunger, he didn't know which would get him to crack first.

 

This was the reason he was waiting here so early, waiting for the succubi to appear on their nebulous schedule. He would wait until this area was empty, then get his ore and trade it. After that, he will go back to his hidden mine. He had drunk his fill on the way here, as the river runs to the docks, and he had to cross a log bridge.

 

It didn't take long before he saw bird-like silhouettes float down from the sky. They flew lazily in large swooping circles. Most of them simply wore a tight-fitting open-backed tank top, and what looked like short shorts. It was the same rough fabric that felt like burlap. Their tails moved behind them almost in a boneless fashion, like a snake. That had horns in all shapes and sizes, but uniform black hair and orange eyes. The eyes seemed to have a slight glow to them though.

 

The wings were also fairly uniform, with 4 fingers supporting the wing. Looking at the size of their wings and comparing the size of their breasts. He was stuck trying to figure out how they manage to sleep. He looked at their feet, but they didn't seem to be adapted to gripping onto cave ceilings. The succubus he had talked to yesterday didn't have wings, so he had assumed they came in different types. This was the only thing that could reasonably explain it, in his mind at least.

 

They carried sacks filled with various items. The bread was baked from flour by the succubi, they also traded other things as well. Now that he had something to trade he felt like he would finally get some answers.

 

-

 

It had been over 3 hours. Groups had come one after another once the succubi appeared. He realized the first groups were the scouts for the racial factions. Most of them only carried the ore for their meals or items. Once they had started leaving, large groups of the same races started appearing. No one had come from the direction he had yet, this caused him to worry. There is a reason for everything, this was something he firmly believed in.

 

Seeing that everyone had dispersed, and no one had appeared, he had an ominous feeling. He rushed back to get his ore, and to his relief, it was still there. He happily walked back with his backpack in tow, he didn't even seem to care when it fell apart. This was further confirmation that humans were lazy creatures; we didn't create nylon, and synthetic fibers, for war. Humanity just got sick of materials that fell apart after a little unreasonable use.

 

Rex walked up to the barred-off walkway, looking at the bars they seemed quite old. They were also rusted quite heavily. He had been chased off so quick yesterday, he hadn't gotten a good look. They looked like they could be broken with just a little force. Looking past the bars though he was a bit surprised.

 

She could have won any beauty pagent, and she had a perfect hourglass figure, with wide hips and equally large breasts. Her hair wasn't very long though, only to about her shoulders. Only a few of the succubi had long hair, he imagined it got in the way when flying. This succubus also didn't have wings. Her tail was dancing behind her in the air and had wood rings that just sat loosely around the base. Around her on the ground in piles were the bags that had been carried down. Looking at it though it was all very empty. A thought gripped his mind that he could not let go of.

 

“Do you still have any food left?” This was the question he feared most.

 

“I have one last bread left.” She didn't seem too happy about this, as she pulled out a misshapen loaf.

 

It was no wonder no one else had appeared, after the morning rush it was just scraps that remained.

 

“You have ore to trade right?” She seemed impatient, he felt there was something more to this.

 

“I do have ore here.” Rex took off his backpack, pulling it open and into pieces, taking the ore out.

 

He pushed it through the slot in the bars, and the succubus reached over and took it. The bars seemed almost pointless, and it felt more like a show. He had to assume this was an important building, it was the only exchange. If an 8-year child could successfully rob a bank; you wouldn't get as mad at the child, as you would at the bank.

 

She took it over to a scale, although calling it that was rude to scales. It looked like a pig iron rod with a notch in the middle. Both sides of the rod had been flattened to look like spatulas, with no attempt to clean up the tool marks. She just placed it on a slightly larger rod that laid horizontal under it. It was more a seesaw and less a scale.

 

To compare the weights, she just took out a rock. She compared the ore to how many stones it was worth in weight. In the end, my ore weighed 4 stones, so I could trade for 4 items. Unfortunately, all that was left was a single misshapen bread and a waterskin. The waterskin was quite well made, which was a contrast to the badly made bread.

 

“I was wondering if I could trade you the rest of my ore if you would answer some questions for me?” He asked.

 

“Of course, what would you like to know?” This seemed to make her quite happy.

 

More questions than he knew what to do with flooded his mind. He had so much he wanted to know.

 

“How long have the succubi been here at this mine.” He decided to keep it simple to start.

 

“I think I have been here about 200 years. We have received close to 400 batches of prisoners since I have been here.” She said this casually as if it was nothing.

 

He realized he had made another mistake, he was assuming others moved at the same pace humans did. She talked about 200 years so casually, it felt like she was mocking him. He had been a respectable 35 years old and was considered middle-aged. He, as a child, felt jealous towards a twenty, and some change, year old looking woman.

 

Another thought instantly gripped him.

 

“How did you get in there, you don't have wings?” This had also been tormenting him, did she climb over the wall?

 

She looked at him like he was stupid, not even justify a response. Her wings seemed to almost slide out of her back. It was like a tattoo coming to life, and lifting off the skin into a reality. The issue was there wasn't a tattoo to start with.

 

He just stood with his jaw on the floor.

 

“How did you do that?” He couldn't help but ask.

 

“With my magic.” This was a simple statement from her.

 

That could only be described as magical, he couldn't explain it any other way. He tried his hardest to calm his rapidly beating heart, he didn't want to get over-excited.

 

“Can you teach me?” He had always dreamed of flying, then he could just leave the island.

 

“Not unless you are a succubus. By the way, are you a prisoner?” She asked him as the intensity changed in her eyes.

 

This change was caught by Rex, who went on guard immediately. Why would she proposition a child?

 

“I am not a prisoner, ma'am.” He tried to answer respectfully.

 

“That's disappointing, and I am not a man.” She seemed disappointed.

 

Rex made a note that what he considers normal addresses needed to be changed. He couldn't risk upsetting people, now that a new factor called magic existed. He had seen more races than he had names for, who knew what they were capable of? Human culture was vast from one area to another.

 

“Is there magic that anyone can learn?” He asked but was stopped.

 

“Yes, there is, but succubi can't learn it.” That was all she said.

 

He had to stop, and think for a second before he realized. Humans learned all kinds of things they couldn't use, he doubted the succubi had that freedom. If he wanted to learn any magic, he would need to find a willing prisoner.

 

“Who lived here before the succubi?” He asked in curiosity, the mining style had been eating at him.

 

“I don't know, it was abandoned when we got here. I gave you a deal and answered 5 of your questions.” She said it was clear this was all he was getting.

 

“Can I trade in smelted steel or iron for more resources?” He asked as this was something he had to know.

 

“We only take iron ore here.” She said with finality pointing with both her finger and tail, at a pile of ores.

 

Looking at it closely, he realized some of it wasn't even iron. The miners were novices, and lack of oversight meant they were even worse. Rex was stunned for a second time, looking closely at his bread. He decided to compare it closely to the ore, he thought there might be an equal dirt content in both. Cleaning up his ores was a waste of time and effort.

 

Rex stowed his bread in his backpack with the waterskin. Going over the conversation in his head, he realized he had barely gotten anything from it. It seemed like a lot because his preconceived notions were so high, It felt like he had tried to jump, but for some reason, he flew an equal distance sideways.

 

As he walked down the stone stairs towards the docks, he had even more questions now. The more he thought about it, the more the reactions of the succubus confused him. She was happy he bought the waterskin, which was odd. If you had to compare the two items, the waterskin was more valuable. He came to the conclusion he would need to ask more questions. The succubi were truly neutral, all his encounters with prisoners were bad so far.

 

He decided he would stockpile ore, and look for good days to trade it. Being a loner meant getting the last pickings, he would need to wait for days he could stock up safely. Going every day meant he would be able to learn his way through the brush quickly.

 

Focusing on what he could, he stopped by the wood log bridge over the docks. He filled his waterskin and made his way towards his mine. Looking along the path, he walked till he realized he went too far. It took him a few minutes to find his first marker, then he realized some of them weren't visible when walking this way. It took him twice as long to find his way home compared to getting there.

 

It had to be near midday, as the heat had gotten unbearable. He couldn't see it through the canopy above him. The cold and moist dirt felt good against his sunburned skin, as she slithered down his hole. Following these roots required some contortion after all.

 

When he got to the bottom he just sat for a while. His young body was exhausted, he had done way more than a kid his age normally did. His stomach growled loudly telling him it refused to wait any longer. Quickly taking off his backpack, he took it apart, pulling out the bread and water.

 

The bread looked fine on the outside, but he realized this was just appearance. The dough was dry, with some flour still inside it. This wasn't a flour he had ever eaten before, it tasted almost of rye. He had to drink more water to get it to go down. It turned out he was also right about the dirt content, he could feel hard grains in it when he bit down.

 

“I have to source my food.” Rex said to himself resolutely.

 

This was probably the start of insanity, yet what could he do? The idea of painting up some kind of ball and naming it, popped into his head for a moment.

 

BAHAHAHA!

 

He laughed loudly as the thought took hold. Standing up, and taking another drink, he decided to investigate and mine. They had already run out of torches when he was able to trade. He would need to make his own, he began walking down the tunnel.

 

He noticed the walls seemed to be mostly stone, he assumed it had been cut at one point. It even appeared like mortar had been used. Looking at it closely though, it didn't seem to match concrete. Stopping in place, he noticed an abnormality in the tunnel. He had found two mirrored sections that looked like clay. Clay was pretty normal, and could even be found between the stone in the tunnel. This was a bit larger than that though, he looked up at the roof and noticed it opened up here a bit.

 

Are there passages behind here?

 

He went back quickly and grabbed his pick, it only had a spike coming out one side. He used it to begin digging through the clay. It was harder than he expected and seemed harder the deeper he got. The clay was getting drier, this might have been mortar at one point. Aiming at the center seemed like the best choice. People wouldn't place doors off-center if it could be avoided.

 

It took nearly an hour to dig a three-foot tunnel, but sure enough, he found a metal door. Then he had to spend another hour widening the tunnel, only to discover halfway through it was a simple latch, and opened inward. The door was blocked by something though, it only opened an inch. He could barely fit his fingers through but did not dare risk it. He had pushed the door open and immediately fallen back, using his trusty pic to probe the door.

 

He decided he would look into it more another day. He crawled out of the tunnel he just made, adding a new layer of grime to his clothes.

 

This was how he knew he was never destined to be the main character, he was always filthy. He worked one of the only desk jobs, that still manages to ensure you get covered in various fluids. It felt like the technicians lied about whether they knew how to fix a problem or not, based on whether they would get dirty.

 

Walking down the mineshaft, he went deeper, eventually finding a room. It wasn't very big, but it appeared to be a mausoleum. It had 4 decorative metal pillars driven into the floor going into the ceiling. In the center was an empty stone bed, the remains had long been removed. He was able to see as there was a small hole in the ceiling, the floor was also very solid stone.

 

“This was poured.” He was able to conclude this instantly, it was the same mortar material they used.

 

Walking back to the entrance he checked it carefully, finding holes in the wall.

 

“There was a door here.” He began searching around on the ground and found traces of what he was looking for, which was debris.

 

“It was wood?” This was a huge question mark.

 

Looking into the mausoleum he began to try to speculate from a design aspect. The metal door was something he just encountered. He was well aware they had that technology, the reason you used a wood door for this, was only if you wanted it to be more vulnerable. What could be more valuable to a person than their corpse? His speculation was confirmed when he noticed the mortar under the hole was similar to the clay and became more mortar-like the further away it was. When it eroded, it looked like clay.

 

“I bet I will find their porn behind one and their childhood delusions behind the other.” Rex said to himself.

 

When dealing with aliens, how could he know what was valuable to them? He could barely tell what was valuable to his race, and that was only if everyone agreed on it. His preconceived notions had slapped him too many times to count. It was a mistake that could cost him his life here, he would find out when he opened that door later.

 

It was already well past noon, Rex quickly began using some sticks, and brush to make a fire. He decided to do it in the mausoleum room, this might have been disrespectful to the dead. The justification though was that the body was already exhumed, he'd probably end up sleeping on that stone bed after he got some reeds.

 

After he got a fire going, he made a torch. To eat, he would need to mine. He would need to mine for at least a few hours each day. He felt like he was back in his college days playing video games. Then he had to do the back-breaking labor involved...