Chapter 3: New Terra

There was no flash, but I was blinded by the just-risen sun shining directly into my eyes. After adjusting to the outdoor brightness, I took a good look around. I was in a thin section of forest, not quite a clearing, but I still had about 150 meters of visibility. I made a quick check of my gear to make sure it had all traveled with me safely. I got ready to set out when everything checked out, only to realize I didn’t have a plan.

I sat down on a nearby deadfall and sorted through my thoughts.

I figured my short-term worries were safety, water, food, and shelter—in that order. According to the Alien, I was in a relatively safe area; as long as I didn’t wander too far, safety should be taken care of. The fact that I was (theoretically) the best-armed individual on the planet didn’t hurt either.

So, in terms of safety, staying put was the best choice until I knew better. I don’t know if my drop-off point would always be safe, but it was a better assumption than anything else. So I located a nearby tree that was obvious—it grew along the ground for a while before heading upward—and made that my marker. I piled rocks around the base and cut a wide ring in the bark at eye level. I’d try to stay close to this position until I found something better.

I think I had just created this world’s prime meridian.

Next was water and food. I had a few food bars in my pack, but they were the only ones left in the world, so the sooner I could find my own sustenance, the better. My two canteens wouldn’t last much longer than a day, either. The sun was low and rising, so I figured it was mid-morning. I wasn’t sure how long the days were here, but if I walked in one direction until the sun peaked, I should have enough time to get back and still have light to prepare for the night. My initial idea was to scout in all four directions until I found something useful. There was a tall peak in the distance that should be visible from almost anywhere, so I’d use that as a compass until I could watch the sun for a few days. Downhill would be my best chance for water, which kept the mountain on my right-hand side.

Feeling better with a plan, I rechecked my things and set off.

It didn’t take long before I realized the deck had to be stacked in my favor. Heading downhill, the slope decreased, and the forest thinned even more. The landscape was dotted with rocky outcrops, several of which I thought could make great temporary shelters. Additionally, I ran into a slow-moving river after only a short hike. The banks were wide and sandy, with both sides of the river valley gently rising into the surrounding hills. The last clue was the frequent animal sign I had seen on my hike—large enough to notice but not so large that I thought “predator.”

I walked up and down the bank for a good distance, taking a closer look. Downstream, the river continued in a meandering path through the valley. I followed it as far as a wide sandbar that spread the river to only a few inches deep and looked easily crossable. Heading back upstream, I followed the slow-moving section to its source: a faster, narrower tributary cascading over the top of a rocky hill. While not quite a waterfall, it had still formed a bit of a hole from which the calmer water ran. The hole was deep enough that I couldn’t see the bottom, and I swore I saw a few fish grab insects from the surface.

That’s one thing about New Terra I’m grateful for—either the mosquito doesn’t exist here, or they don’t find Terrans tasty. While I’ve seen plenty of flying insects, I haven’t felt a single bite.

I took the opportunity to deeply quench my thirst and refill my canteens from the fast-moving section of the “waterfall.” I opened my purification tablets, and out fell Ikea-like pictographic instructions, scaring me slightly. I felt good about discovering the creek, the rocky shelter, and the signs of game animals, but I realized I was acting like a fool without a care in the world. I hadn’t inspected my gear close enough to even open my purification tablets. The reality of how unprepared I was crashed into me, and I sat down heavily in shock.

After a few minutes of minor existential dread, I sat right there next to the creek and thoroughly combed through every piece of gear I had—I disassembled both guns, opened every box or container, read every document, and checked every pocket. Luckily, there weren’t many more surprises. The tablet instructions had me decrease my dosage over time—about six days, by my guess. Either my new body would quickly acclimate to the foreign microbes, or that was just the end of my supply (next week might be interesting). I also found a set of cards with pictures of plants and animals. These all had icons explaining which parts were edible, which needed to be cooked, and which to avoid.

In particular, a card depicting a clump of juicy-looking purple berries looked so similar to blueberries that I had no doubts that I would have picked and eaten them without a care in the world. Luckily, I hadn’t been looking for food on my hike because next to the image was a pictogram of a very unhappy face with crosses for eyes. The idea that the only thing that kept me from poisoning myself over the last two hours was my lack of attention was a sobering thought. My new food safety booklet made it clear that New Terra foods were nothing like the foods I was used to—other appetizing cards showed disturbing exit lines from both ends of a line drawing of a body. This wasn’t just a dangerous place; this was a place where you started every day facing death just by being alive.

It took me more time than I’d like to admit to recover from these world-altering realizations, and I cooled off from the hike and the midday heat during that time. However, I still felt grimy with dried sweat and a little down. The weather was just about perfect, and this swimming hole might literally have never been used by humans before. So, I took advantage of my early discoveries and gave myself a bath in the creek.

It feels very odd to be in the middle of nowhere and clearly, completely alone, yet know that someone, somewhere, millions of light-years away, is watching you. I wasn’t quite sure where on the scale between expedient and exhibitionist it was to bathe naked in an isolated creek while being filmed for an extra-terrestrial reality show. I shrugged and figured that they would get an eyeful at some point, and Maytags were probably hard to come by. I did give my underclothing a rinse and washed the little sweat I had accumulated, but really, I was all about the swim. With my gear drying nearby, I floated out in the middle of the slow-moving creek, soaking up the mild sun and generally enjoying myself. The water was crisp but not cold enough to prevent me from wishing for a beer—and maybe a cigarette. I wasn’t much of a drinker and hadn’t smoked in years, but there was something about the fresh air and warm sun that begged for some refreshment; I figured my three-day-old body could handle it. I made do with mountain air and spring water—bottled at the source, of course. I reminded myself that, along with a lack of bottled beer, came no taxes, telemarketers, or vehicular manslaughter.