I'm surrounded by trees, grass, and up above through the leaves peeks a blue sky. Beep. A screen appears in my vision, its my Bionic Implants Operating System or BIOS. My sole means of managing my bionics, and keeping track of their condition.

[Error Modules Malfunction Detected}

Running Diagnostics

(53/53) Pinging Modules     [#########] 100%

(53/53) Checking Protocols [#########] 100%

Diagnostics Complete

(28) Modules Disabled

Test Output -> ErrorLog.txt

[Root_User /]$

   This is rather unfortunate. Something about passing through these rifts has disabled over half of my active bionics. I can manage without them, but it does make things remarkably harder. I should at least make sure I have that bionic still working.

[Root_User /]$ cat errorlog.txt | grep probability transfer unit¹Command that displays any lines from selected file containing the specified words

Module: probability transfer unit, Diagnostics: Successful

[Root_User/]$ Exit

   It appears I at least still have my most powerful bionic operating.

   Pulling myself from the ground I do a check for injuries, finding just a few scratches from my landing. Checking my supplies. I’m wearing a moisture retention suit, with a military jacket, cargo pants and a sturdy pair of boots. All of which I scrounged from some abandoned military bases. The pockets contain a MRE, boot knife, and single bullet.

   Of course I wasn’t wearing any armor or wielding any firearms the one time I’m stranded. How did I ever survive this long with such bad luck? Stuffing them back into my pockets, I keep the knife close at hand. Best to be prepared before I suffer more misfortune.

   Inspecting the surroundings, I am in a deciduous forest. However I am unable to recognize any familiar flora. Where ever I am is at the very least foreign.

   I've always avoided leaving the country. Too dangerous due to the inconvenience of not being able to read signs, especially warnings, in addition there aren't many people left who could waste time teaching a stranger the language either.

   Cutting away some foliage, I am greeted with a mutant spider. Fairly common creatures, but as opposed to the ones I usually see which look like dog-sized tarantulas. This one has the appearance of a Banana spider: instead of being yellow, its purple.

   With a purple appearance I guess it would be more fitting to call it a Plum spider.

   While I spend time trying to categorize it, the spider has already noticed me. It releases a hiss. The aggressive sound it's making isn't as unsettling to me as it should be, but this is because the ones I've dealt with to this point have made a more disturbing sound as they've purred. which for a giant spider is far less comfortable. The critter scuttles towards me.

   Taking a wide stance, I stretch my arm out above me, with knife in hand.

   The spider slows for a moment, not out of hesitation but preparation. It steadies itself, before unleashing an attack by leaping forward.

   Swinging downward, I intersect its leap. The knife plunges into the spider's hard exoskeleton eliciting a splitting crack. My counter attack doesn't end and I continue my swing to the ground. This time a loud crunch is made, but with more gooey-ness to it. My attack causes the spider's legs flail for a moment before withdrawing inward.

   My experience with prior mutant spiders still applies to this species fortunately, anytime they're away from their webs they go for the leap attack. Should I butcher it? Hmm, no. While spider armor may sound cool and provide me more protection, I don't have anything to fashion the armor together. Since spiders don’t have tendons to make string from. So, why not make use of the spiders own threads? Not every spider produces viable thread, and I’d need to find its web, which could still be housing some of its relatives.

  Leaving the corpse, I continue my trek through the woods. The day stretches on, leading to a few hours have passing. The sun has gotten lower in the sky and I’ve finally come across a dirt path.

   Which way should I take? The road goes east-to-west. I’d prefer the sun at my back instead of in my face. As I have no real way of knowing what lies in either direction, I may as well travel comfortably and tactically with the sun behind me.

   Walking east, I go along the path.