Chapter 266: (Lost Data) (2/2)

When he exited the rubble he looked around and felt as close to anxiety as he could.

The bushes were burnt away. The manicured lawns were nothing but blasted ash. The manor he had cared for all of his life was smashed rubble. It was raining gritty ashy snow that coated everything. He looked up and saw nothing but heavy clouds, but he did not know that what he was seeing was different.

It took him some time to find the worker's shed. He was lucky enough to find a few tools, and he set to work.

After a time he had the fertilizer mixed into the barren ashy soil and cuttings of expensive and beautiful plant beginning to bud.

For rest he would return to the basement. He would drink, eat, sleep, eliminate waste, and return to his duties.

The manor had a few spots that were still intact. Part of a staircase, which he spent time cleaning and restoring. Two walls on a corner that he scrubbed, a segment of a wall here and there, even managing to remove the shadows that looked slightly like people from one wall. He cleaned and polished linoleum, even with the pitting in the vinyl that the fallout created. He cleaned the vehicle repeatedly after removing the rubble from it, even scrubbing on the rust that slowly appeared.

One day things changed.

He awoke and left the basement to check on the gardens he had slowly grown and tended to find a man made entirely of streaming and swirling lights and runes standing with a large man who's body was grafted with mechanical parts.

They were strangers.

”I am sorry. This is private property. Show your invitation or leave, otherwise I will be forced to summon security,” he told them.

”Look at this poor sad bastard, My Lord,” the half-mechanical man said. ”It's been three years and he's still doing the menial labor he was grown for,” the half-mechanical man reached down and pulled a gun from a compartment in his leg. ”I'll put him out of his misery.”

He just stared at the gun was leveled at his face. He felt no fear, his brain unable to process the emotion.

”Stay thy hand, Phillip,” the swirling mass of light said, reaching out one hand. The hand of light pushed the pistol down. ”He is the most least of all of us, made in humanity's image without humanity's grace. Pity this poor creature, Phillip, and stay thy hand.”

The figure's eyes blazed for a moment, lighting crackled around the pistol and up and down the arm, but then faded. The half-mechanical man sighed and put the pistol away, the compartment closing and making his leg look seemless.

”As you wish, My Lord,” the figure said.

”Come here, my child,” the figure of light said.

He moved up slowly, feeling a stirring of uncomfortableness.

”Kneel down, child,” the being of light said.

He knelt down, and the hand of light touched his brow.

”Arise, Vat-Grown Luke, and join me in the healing of our people,” The Digital Omnimessiah commanded.