Just as the image resolved, a password box popped up in the center, below it was a numeric touchscreen 0-9. Felix pressed to numbers that had were repeated during the exit interview with Kimberly, “16180339”.
Feli held his breath in gaping awe as the image on the ancient screen morphed: a sea-foam green umbrella dissolving in swirling pixels, collecting in solidifying hexagon icons. 7 total hexagons formed a beehive shape, each with an icon representing some function.
The screen blinked as if it had momentarily lost power, then restored itself: flickering from dim to bright. The hexagon at the bottom contained what appeared to be an envelope pulsed, the number “1” displayed in its bottom right corner. Felix pressed the icon.
A box in the shape of a sheet of paper opened above the other display. There was an “X” block in the top left corner. The message read:
“Don’t forget to check your pockets. Z.”
Felix pressed the “X”, and the screen returned to the previous menu.
‘Check my pockets?’ Felix pondered in amusement. He looked down at his naked form. ‘Ummmm. Oh!’. He looked down at mushroom corpse, who would be lying face down if he had a face. ‘Seriously?’ Felix thought.
He moved over to the man-shaped mound of clothes, and started inspecting pockets, expecting something gross, but to his surprise found nothing but lumpy dry folds of fabric. It felt like a bag of potatoes. He held on to that thought. ‘I’m just searching for a bag of potatoes.’ avoiding looking at the subject. Pushing his hand deeper under the mass, towards what should be the front right leg pocket, he felt a shape, like a tube of some sort, about the size of a small flashlight.
He withdrew the object. It was a wooden tube with wooden caps made of a similar material: a bamboo-like reed. Felix took the object back to the screen, using the light to inspect further. The caps were sealed in placed by what felt like a bee’s wax substance, and the outside of the assembly was coated in a thin clear layer of lacquer. Felix tried to pry one end open, but his fingers could not find a suitable edge to grip. He tried the other end with similar results.
Felix looked around the interior of the space for options, but the walls were sloping inward, and the floor was a thick mat of mossy mushroom fern. Mr. Mussy was useless. That left the terminal. It was covered in vines, but the body of the machine felt hard, though nonmetallic. He inspected, finding it to be a carbon fiber body. ‘That’ll do!” Felix exclaimed. Holding the ends of the tube between his thumb and index against the carbon body of the main mast/shaft, he gripped his grappling hook, and started tapping at the caps with one of the talons.
Chip. Chip. Chip. He missed several times but remained patient. Striking his hand might have disastrously infectious results, so as tedious as this may be, this was going to have to be the way for now.
After several minutes, and an aching shoulder, Felix finally heard a snapping click sound emit from the tube, and subsequent strikes now created a different, less harmonic tone. It was open. Felix pressed the tube with his palm into the carbon shaft and began to roll it back and forth, weakening the structure of the container. At last, he felt the cylindric shape relax into two pieces. He used the talon of his hook to wedge the opening wider, then used his fingers to pry. The tube pealed open wide a woody shredding, and a single roll of parchment fell onto the ground.
Felix unfurled the roll of paper, seeing a hand-written note.
“Felix, if you have found this then I was correct. You are in danger, But I need you. We are running out of time, and there wasn’t another way. The seed map will guide you. I need you to travel there. Stay hidden. You are hunted. I will find you, it is not safe to say too much. Please hurry. If you have found this, I know you are alive. SE 20m. P.S. Don’t forget the mushroom knife. Z”
Artavus Quill 