The conversation around the campfire that night was a stark contrast to the grim tension of the day. Full of simple food and a sense of hard-won safety, the mood had lightened considerably.
"So, about that city of glitchy toasters and meat-puppets..." Emma began around a mouthful of rations, waving her spoon for emphasis. "We're just gonna... leave it? Feels like we're ignoring a giant, ugly problem."
Julian, methodically cleaning one of his blades, didn't look up. "We are not leaving it. We are categorizing it. It is a hive. The creatures we fought were workers, soldiers. The central intelligence, the 'queen' or core processor, is likely buried deep within the most fortified structure."
He placed the blade down, his gaze meeting the fire. "Leaving it allows it to continue evolving, producing more of those constructs, and possibly creating another 'shepherd.' It is a tumor. It must be excised."
"By 'excised,' you mean..." Veronica prompted, raising an eyebrow.
