The sun had barely risen behind the mountains when Kane sat hunched over his workstation, the soft glow of his multiple screens illuminating tired eyes. Maps, blueprints, and endless tabs of research flickered across the displays. The island wasn't just going to be a safe haven—it had to be a self-sustaining fortress, a place where food and essentials could be produced far from the crumbling cities.
Kane's fingers flew across the keyboard, diving deep into topics that were suddenly more urgent than ever: hydroponic greenhouses, vertical farming, aquaponics, and fish farming methods that could provide fresh protein year-round. He read about nutrient recycling, energy-efficient lighting, and climate control systems that could sustain crops even under harsh conditions.
He made notes:
Greenhouses must be modular and insulated, capable of maintaining stable temperatures.Fish farms should recycle water with plants to create a closed ecosystem — aquaponics could be key.Waste management to be integrated — nothing wasted.
The mental checklist grew longer with every passing hour, but the clarity of purpose kept him moving.
Meanwhile, miles away in the quiet warmth of their home, Reina's world was expanding.
Her circle of animated toys had grown overnight. The stuffed rabbit still led the pack, but now dozens of other toys—plastic soldiers, tiny wooden animals, even a battered toy truck—moved in coordinated patterns across the floor.
Kane's comm-link beeped softly. He smiled to hear her excited chatter in toddler tones.
"Pway, Kane! Look! Toys fwiends! They hewp now! I show 'em!"
Reina's voice bubbled with pride as she watched the tiny wooden soldiers pick up small blocks and carefully set them into a pile, like tiny builders cooperating on a miniature construction site.
But something new was happening.
Kane noticed in the data feed that each toy was beginning to use a limited amount of his infinite storage energy—about thirty kilograms worth—to temporarily enhance their movements and tasks. They weren't infinite on their own, but this shared energy made them far more efficient and durable.
"Looks like you're teaching them to share some of my power," Kane murmured with a smile.
"Yesh! Toys use powah! Help pway betta!" Reina said proudly.
Reina's concentration deepened as she reached out, her eyes glowing softly with the artifact's light. The toys responded instantly, their movements fluid and precise as if learning a new language.
Her range was expanding too. No longer just toys nearby, but others across the room stirred, responding to her presence and commands with growing obedience.
Back at the workstation, Kane's research was yielding plans. The island could house multiple greenhouse domes, powered by solar arrays and backed by the water purification systems he'd found designs for. Fish tanks integrated with plant beds would form a perfect cycle, producing food and oxygen while recycling waste.
He drafted layouts that combined security with sustainability—barriers, sensor networks, and emergency shelters all balanced with the urgent need for crops and fresh water.
He leaned back, rubbing his eyes.
"Everything's connected," he muttered. "Survival isn't just weapons and walls… it's food, water, and hope."
At home, Reina giggled, clapping as a plastic soldier picked up a tiny toy hammer and "worked" at an imaginary project.
"Good job, little guy!" she said in toddler-speak, eyes sparkling.
Kane's voice came softly, a lifeline across the distance. "You're doing great, Reina. Keep teaching them. They'll help us more than you know."
"Yesh! We hewp Kane! We pway togeva!" she declared with glee.
The countdown continued, relentless and unforgiving.
Global Collapse Countdown: 45 Days, 16 Hours, 37 Minutes
Two weeks until the island was his, and the world was still falling apart.
But with each small victory—new knowledge, new toys learning, new plans—the weight on Kane's shoulders felt lighter.
They weren't just surviving. They were building a future.