Interstellar: Exploring The Cosmos With My Anomaly System
Chapter 59: A Spark of Inspiration

Chapter 59: A Spark of Inspiration

"Will this really hold the walls together?" A boy complained, his skin a light cyan as he slapped the Mortar on the wooden walls of the rebuilt building.

The mixture squelched under his palm, its damp gray paste clinging to splintered planks still reeking of sap and river-mud. His shaggy black hair clung to his temples in sweat-darkened strands, his skinny frame hunched as if braced against the weight of the sagging structure.

A soft sigh passed his lips before he took a step back, heels sinking into sun-softened earth, and admired his handiwork: globs of mortar bulged between uneven boards, slick and glistening like wet clay.

Though the boy’s heart fell as he noticed the mortar drip down the walls slowly, appearing more soft than before. Rivulets oozed downward, carving glistening trails through the dust-coated wood, while the midday sun glared relentlessly, baking the air into a stifling haze.

"Apparently we need to wait for it to harden..." A taller one spoke, his hair short and clean cut, sweat beading along his hairline.

His piercing green eyes scanned the building, squinting against the glare bouncing off the river’s distant surface, where dragonflies darted like shards of glass. He shifted his weight, calloused fingers brushing the warped edge of a plank, its grain split and bleached pale by weeks of exposure.

"It better..." the other sighed, wiping his mortar-streaked hands on his tunic, leaving smears of ashen gray. The fabric, threadbare and patched at the elbows, rasped against his skin. "I don’t know if I can sleep outside again."

"Shouldn’t this Astra person help us out with this? It was her idea—" The black hair boy groaned, rubbing his hand through his hair from irritation as he continued to watch the mortar with tired eyes.

"Apparently she has her own stuff to deal with," The other crossed his arm, letting out a soft sigh.

His gaze flicked to the lean-to shelter propped nearby, its roof a patchwork of frayed reeds and cracked animal hides sagging under the weight of last night’s dew.

"Favio, Hamel! Stop dallying and do the others!" Zelr barked, walking up to the two.

His boots crunched over gravel, the sound sharp as flint, and the boys stiffened at the sight of his looming frame. Zelr’s tunic stretched taut across shoulders corded with muscle, sleeves rolled to reveal forearms scarred by old burns.

The two boys gave each other a quick glance—Favio’s cyan fingers twitching, Hamel’s jaw tightening—before scattering, sandals kicking up puffs of ochre dust that settled on their ankles like powdered rust.

"Where did Belk go?" Sylvi asked, picking up a bucket of clams by the river bed and dumping it in a bowl. The river murmured nearby, its current lazy and sun-warmed, carrying the faint metallic tang of silt.

She crouched in the shallows, her skirt damp and hem stained green from algae, fingers brushing shells mottled in ivory and rust.

The sun blazed overhead, relentlessly, turning the air into a furnace. Vagnis muttered, grabbing a stick and slamming it down with a loud grunt. His bare arms glistened, tendons standing rigid as he pulverized shells into powder.

The sound of shattering filled the air—sharp, brittle cracks punctuated by his labored breaths. Flecks of shell spiraled upward, catching the light like scattered quartz, before raining down into the bowl.

"He’s with Astra, making stuff." Vagnis paused, chest heaving, and swiped a forearm across his brow. Sweat darkened the waistband of his trousers, and his hands trembled faintly as he adjusted his grip on the stick.

"Like what?" Sylvi asked, straightening to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. Her palms left powdery streaks on her cheeks, the crushed shell dust clinging to her skin like phantom scales.

"They’re making the flashlights, and some other stuff," Vagnis replied, his voice rough as he resumed pounding. Each strike sent tremors up his arms, the wooden stick groaning under the force.

"Aw, I wanted to help with those," Sylvi mumbled slightly, a small pout to her lips as the shells finally turned to dust. She bent to gather more clams, the river’s edge slick under her feet, water seeping into the gaps of her worn sandals.

"She said it’s too dangerous for inexperienced hands, they’ll be working with chemicals, deadly ones," Vagnis gasped, stumbling backward as the wood slipped from his grasp. His torso gleamed, sweat tracing paths through the grime coating his skin.

The craftsman’s head leaned back, throat exposed to the merciless sky, his breath coming in shallow rasps. Shadows pooled in the hollows of his collarbone, deepening with every rise and fall of his chest.

"Besides, we only have three days to do this, so it’s not like she exactly has the time to explain." Each word was punctuated by a desperate pant. He dragged a hand through his hair, dislodging flecks of shell that drifted like snow onto his shoulders.

"I guess," Sylvi sighed, picking up the bucket once more. The clams clattered as she hoisted it, their shells clicking like brittle teeth.

Vagnis took the wood again, knuckles whitening as he resumed crushing, the bowl’s rim now coated in a chalky film that shimmered faintly in the light. A long pause was shared among them, the steady pace Vagnis set the only thing challenging the silence.

Sylvi watched on, crouching near him with her arm wrapped around her legs and her face nestled on her knees.

"Is Mr.Tanaka going to be alright?" She muttered, her voice filled with worry, the action caused Vagnis to pause, his eyes narrowing in worry as well as the thought seeped into his mind.

"I don’t know..." He muttered, before continuing to crush the shells below him. His gaze snapped to her, the young girl staring blankly at the waters, watching the shimmering reflections of the sun danced around the small rippling waves.

Vagnis tossed the wood aside, sitting near her in silence. His hand came down gently on the girl’s skull giving her a light pat on the head.

"Don’t look so glum, Astra will think of something." He reassured me, letting out a soft comforting smile. Sylvi looked up at him with a confused look, before breaking into a smile herself, looking down at the river before them once more.

"Yeah... He’ll be fine—"

"That’s it... careful—" Astra muttered, watching as Belk filled a small clay container with diluted sulfuric acid. The liquid hissed faintly as it submerged the coiled wires inside—copper and zinc, separated by a sliver of willow stick. Belk’s hands trembled, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple and splashing onto the workbench, where it sizzled against a stray droplet of acid.

The two sat in the midpass forest, a singular patch of light from Belk’s sigil of fire showing them the way.

"There, now we have our first battery." Astra leaned closer, her braid brushing the table as she inspected the crude cell. The air reeked of burnt hair and sulfur, the forest around them oddly silent, as if the trees themselves held their breath.

Belk wiped his palms on his tunic, leaving smudges of charcoal and acid-eaten fabric. "It doesn’t look like a battery or whatever you call it," he said, eyepping the unassuming clay pot. "More like a jar of poison with some wires."

"It’s both," Astra said, her voice taut. She threaded a frayed copper wire through the wax-sealed cap, connecting it to a second cell—a hollowed deer femur packed with lead scraps and acid. "Now the filament."

From a charred wooden box, she lifted a thread of carbonized hemp, brittle and black. Belk held his breath as she anchored it between two twisted copper prongs, the filament suspended inside a glass vial scavenged from an abandoned caravan. The vial’s surface was fogged with age, its edges sealed with pine resin.

"Ready?" Astra’s gaze flicked to Belk. He nodded, watching intently as she closed the circuit

Nothing.

Belk’s shoulders slumped. "Maybe the acid’s too weak, or—"

A sharp crack cut him off. The filament sparked, then glowed—a sickly orange ember wavering in the glass. Shadows leapt across their faces, the light guttering like a dying firefly.

"It’s working," Belk whispered, though the word felt too grand for the frail flicker.

"Not enough—" Astra groaned. She added a third cell to the series, her fingers dancing over the connections. The filament brightened, casting jagged patterns on the birch trees around them. A moth spiraled into the beam, drawn to the unnatural glow.

Belk grinned with excitement at the progress, but Astra’s face stayed grim. Looking to the battery once more that hung out in the open of the primitive flashlight, focusing the light into a narrow beam. "It won’t last. The acid’s corroding the zinc already."

As if to prove her point, the filament flared once—a momentary gold—before dimming. Belk’s smile faded. "How long?"

"Ten minutes? An hour? Depends on the gods’ mood." She detached the cells, plunging them back into darkness. "Well... it’s not perfect but it’s progress."

Belk smiled at her words, though she didn’t smile, pridefulness laced her words as the technician got back to work.

"This is going to be a long three days."

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