The hallway felt different now.
Not physically—the wood-paneled walls were the same, the afternoon light still filtered through the window at the far end—but my perception had shifted. I wasn't just wandering through an unfamiliar building anymore. I was exploring a sanctuary explicitly designed for me, with a companion AI guiding me through it.
The interface hovered at the edge of my vision, unobtrusive but present. A small indicator in the corner showed my current location on the floor plan, a blue dot moving through the second-floor hallway.
Let's start with the basics, APEX's text appeared, smooth and conversational. You've already seen your bedroom, the bathroom, and the storage closet. The armory you're standing in front of will be important, but let's save that for last. First, I want to show you the heart of this place.
"The heart?" I asked aloud, then felt slightly ridiculous. Was I supposed to talk out loud, or think at it?
Either works, APEX responded, and I could have sworn there was amusement in the way the text pulsed. I can read surface thoughts directed at me, but verbal communication is fine too. Whatever feels natural.
"Verbal it is," I muttered. "Thinking at you feels weird."
Completely understandable. Now, shall we head downstairs?
I moved toward the staircase, my footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor. The stairs were solid, well-maintained, descending to what I assumed was the main level. As I walked, the interface updated, showing me a more detailed view of the first floor.
The lodge has two main levels, APEX explained as I descended. The second floor is primarily personal space—your bedroom, bathroom, storage, and armory. The first floor is where functionality meets sustainability. Kitchen, workshop, greenhouse, and what I like to call the command center.
"Command center?" I reached the bottom of the stairs and found myself in an open living area. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, flanked by two worn but comfortable-looking chairs. A couch sat perpendicular to them, facing the hearth. Windows on two sides let in natural light, and I could see the forest beyond, dense and green.
Through that door, APEX indicated, highlighting a doorway to my left.
I crossed the living area and opened the door.
The room beyond made me stop in my tracks.
It was smaller than I expected, maybe twelve by fifteen feet, but every inch was utilized with almost military efficiency. One wall was dominated by a desk with three monitors, all currently dark. Below them sat what looked like a custom-built computer tower, its case showing ventilation slits and inactive status lights. A radio setup occupied the corner—not the handheld kind, but a proper base station with multiple bands and frequencies labeled on the equipment.
Shelves lined another wall, filled with binders, maps, and what looked like reference materials. A large topographical map of Wyoming hung on the third wall, marked with various notations in red and blue ink.
"This is..." I stepped inside, running my hand along the desk's edge. "This is incredible."
This is your command center, APEX confirmed. From here, you can monitor radio frequencies, access my database, plan routes, track weather patterns, and coordinate any operations you might need to run. The computer system is hardened against EMP and runs on the lodge's power grid. The radio can reach about 50 miles in good conditions, farther with the right atmospheric bounce.
I pulled out the desk chair and sat down, staring at the dark monitors. "Can I turn it on?"
Of course. There's a power switch on the tower, lower right side.
I found it and pressed. The tower hummed to life, fans spinning up with a quiet whir. The monitors flickered, displaying boot sequences before settling into a clean, minimalist desktop interface. No corporate logos, no bloated software—just a functional operating system with clearly labeled applications.
I've pre-loaded everything you might need, APEX said. Mapping software, communication protocols, survival databases, medical references, and engineering specifications. Think of it as a post-apocalyptic Wikipedia, except actually useful.
I clicked through a few folders, impressed despite myself. There were detailed maps of the surrounding area, information about Jackson's layout and population, guides on identifying edible plants, instructions for treating common injuries and infections, and even schematics for building and repairing various types of equipment.
"You really thought of everything," I said quietly.
I tried. My goal is to give you every possible advantage. Information is survival in this world, Evan. The more you know, the better your chances.
I leaned back in the chair, processing. "Okay, so I have a command center. What else?"
Let me show you the workshop. That's where theory becomes practice.
I stood and followed APEX's guidance back through the living area to another door, this one leading to what must have been a converted garage or addition to the original structure. When I opened it, the smell hit me first—oil, metal, and sawdust. The good smell of a functional workspace.
The workshop was larger than the command center, maybe twenty by twenty-five feet. A sturdy workbench ran along one wall, equipped with a vice, various clamps, and an array of hand tools organized on a pegboard above it. Power tools sat on a separate table—a drill press, a bench grinder, a band saw. Shelves held raw materials: wood, metal stock, pipes, wire, and fasteners.
In one corner sat a reloading bench, complete with dies, a powder measure, and boxes of primers and bullets. Empty brass casings were sorted by caliber in labeled containers.
This is where you'll maintain your equipment, craft ammunition, and build whatever you need, APEX explained. The knowledge bundles I'll be giving you include weaponsmithing and engineering skills, but knowledge without tools is limited. Here, you have both.
I moved to the reloading bench and picked up one of the dies. It was for .308 caliber—the same as the rifle I'd seen mentioned in the armory. "You said you'd be giving me knowledge bundles. How does that work exactly?"
Direct neural integration. I'll upload information directly into your brain, and your mind will process it as if you'd learned it over time. It includes both theoretical knowledge and muscle memory, though the muscle memory will need some practice to feel natural.
"That sounds..." I tried to find the right word. "Invasive."
It is, in a way. But it's also the most efficient way to ensure your survival. Learning to shoot, fight, hunt, and engineer through traditional means would take years. You don't have years, Evan. You have nine months before—
APEX cut off abruptly.
I frowned. "Nine months before what?"
...Before winter fully sets in. Wyoming winters are harsh. You'll need to be prepared.
There was something in that pause, something APEX wasn't telling me. But I let it go for now. I had enough to process without adding mystery to the list.
"Alright," I said. "What's next?"
The greenhouse. This way.
I followed the interface's guidance through a door at the back of the workshop. It led to a glass-enclosed structure that had been built as an extension of the lodge. The temperature inside was noticeably warmer, humid in a way that made me immediately aware of the life growing here.
Raised beds ran in neat rows, currently planted with various vegetables in different stages of growth. Tomatoes, lettuce, carrots, potatoes, beans. Herbs lined one wall—basil, thyme, rosemary, and others I didn't immediately recognize. A water collection system fed into an irrigation setup, and grow lights hung from the ceiling, currently off but ready to supplement natural sunlight.
Self-sufficiency, APEX said. The greenhouse provides fresh food year-round. It won't feed you entirely on its own, but combined with hunting, foraging, and your stored supplies, you won't go hungry.
I touched one of the tomato plants, feeling the leaves between my fingers. It was real. All of this was real. "How long have these been growing?"
The lodge has been prepared for approximately three months. The plants were started then. By now, they're producing.
"Prepared by who?"
I don't have that information. I was activated when you arrived, but the lodge existed before that. Someone—or something—set this up for you.
Another mystery. I was collecting them.
I moved slowly through the greenhouse, taking in the careful organization. Whoever had prepared this knew what they were doing. Every plant was healthy, well-maintained, and positioned for optimal growth. It wasn't just functional—it was thoughtfully designed.
There's one more room I want to show you before we discuss the knowledge bundles, APEX said. The kitchen.
Back through the workshop, through the living area, to a doorway I hadn't explored yet. The kitchen was exactly what I'd expect from a functional homestead. Gas stove connected to propane tanks, a refrigerator running on the lodge's power, a sink with running water, and cabinets stocked with dishes and cookware. A large wooden table sat in the center, big enough for six people.
The propane tanks are outside, around back, APEX explained. You have about a year's supply with conservative use. The water comes from a well, filtered and purified. The refrigerator and freezer let you store meat from hunting. Everything you need to not just survive, but live.
I pulled out one of the chairs and sat at the table, suddenly exhausted. Not physically—this body felt strong, energetic—but mentally. Emotionally. The weight of everything was pressing down on me.
"This is a lot," I said quietly.
I know. And I'm sorry for the information overload. I need you to understand what you have here, Evan. This isn't just a shelter. It's a foundation. A place to build from.
"Build toward what?"
That's up to you. Survival is the baseline, but what you do beyond that... that's your choice. I'm here to help, not to control.
I appreciated that. The last thing I needed was an AI dictating my every move.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "Tell me about these knowledge bundles. What exactly are you offering?"
The interface shifted, displaying a list:
[AVAILABLE KNOWLEDGE BUNDLES:]
[Engineering (Civil & Electrical)]
[Weaponsmithing]
[Survival Tactics]
[Weapon Handling]
[Vehicle Maintenance]
[Tracking/Hunting]
[Hand-to-Hand Combat]
Each bundle contains comprehensive knowledge in its field, APEX explained. Engineering covers infrastructure, power systems, construction, and repair. Weaponsmithing includes maintenance, modification, and ammunition crafting. Survival Tactics encompasses threat assessment, stealth, evasion, and strategic thinking. Weapon Handling provides proficiency with firearms, bows, and melee weapons, including muscle memory. Vehicle Maintenance covers repair, hotwiring, and fuel systems. Tracking and Hunting teach you to read signs, follow trails, and take down game. Hand-to-Hand Combat gives you Krav Maga, grappling, and disarming techniques.
I stared at the list. "That's... that's an insane amount of knowledge."
It is. And I recommend not taking them all at once. Each integration is mentally taxing. I suggest starting with two or three, practicing with them for a few days, then adding more as you acclimate.
"Which ones do you recommend starting with?"
Engineering and Survival Tactics. Engineering will help you understand and maintain this lodge and its systems. Survival Tactics will keep you alive when you venture outside. Those two form a solid foundation.
That made sense. "And the others?"
Weapon Handling and Tracking would be my next recommendation, followed by the rest as you feel ready. But this is your choice, Evan. I can only advise.
I thought about it. Engineering made sense—I'd been an architect and engineer in my previous life, so it would build on existing knowledge. Survival Tactics felt essential. But I was also in a world full of infected and desperate humans. Weapon Handling seemed pretty damn important.
"Can I take three? Engineering, Survival Tactics, and Weapon Handling?"
You can. It will be more intense than two, but manageable. Are you sure?
"I'm sure."
Alright. Find somewhere comfortable. This will take about thirty minutes, and you'll want to be sitting or lying down.
I stood and moved back to the living area, settling into one of the chairs by the fireplace. The cushions were worn but comfortable, molding to my body as I leaned back.
"Okay," I said. "I'm ready."
Initiating knowledge integration. Stay calm, and try not to fight the process.
The interface pulsed once, twice, and then—
The world tilted.
Information flooded into my mind, not as words or images, but as knowing. Structural load calculations. Electrical circuit theory. Ohm's Law. How to read a blueprint. How to pour a foundation. The feel of a soldering iron in my hand, the smell of flux, the precise angle needed to create a clean joint.
Threat assessment matrices. How to read terrain for ambush points. The sound of a footstep on different surfaces. Wind direction and scent trails. The weight of a decision made under pressure.
The heft of a Glock 19, how it sat in my palm. Sight picture, trigger pull, breath control. The draw from a holster, smooth and practiced. The way a rifle stock settled into my shoulder. Leading a moving target. The whisper of an arrow leaving a bowstring.
It was overwhelming, perfect, and terrifying all at once.
My hands gripped the armrests as the knowledge settled into place, my brain reorganizing itself to accommodate the flood. I could feel it—actually feel it—as neural pathways formed, strengthened, and became permanent.
And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
I gasped, sucking in air like I'd been underwater. My heart hammered in my chest, and my hands were shaking.
Easy, APEX's text appeared, gentle and steady. Breathe. You're okay. It's over.
I focused on breathing. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Slow. Controlled.
Gradually, my heart rate settled. The shaking stopped.
And I realized something incredible.
I knew things.
I looked at the fireplace and immediately understood its construction—the type of stone, the mortar composition, the chimney draft design. I glanced at the window and could estimate the structural load it represented, how to reinforce it if needed.
I flexed my hands and felt the phantom weight of a pistol, the muscle memory of drawing and firing.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
How do you feel?
"Like I just downloaded the Matrix."
...I don't have that reference in my database, but I'm inferring it's positive?
I laughed, a slightly manic sound. "Yeah. Yeah, it's positive. This is insane. This is—I actually know this stuff. It's not just facts. It feels real."
That's the integration working as intended. The muscle memory will need some practice to feel completely natural, but the foundation is there.
I stood, testing my balance. Everything felt solid. Normal. Just... more. Like I'd unlocked a part of my brain that had been dormant.
"What now?" I asked.
Now, I think you should test your new knowledge. The armory is still locked, but I can open it for you. You should familiarize yourself with your weapons, practice the basics. And then...
"And then?"
And then we start planning. You're in the world of The Last of Us, Evan. Nine months from now, something will happen that changes everything. And I think you need to decide what role you'll play in it.
My stomach dropped. "What happens in nine months?"
Joel Miller is going to die.
The words hung in my vision, stark and final.
And suddenly, everything clicked into place.