"Ahhhhh... feels so good..."
Scalding hot water sprayed from the bathroom showerhead.
The stream ran down Hulie's emaciated back, pooling at the deep dip of her lower spine before washing over her thighs and swirling into the drain.
Hulie stood before the mirror, scrubbing her skin with force.
The greyish-white dead skin had softened under the hot water; a little effort was all it took to peel it away, revealing the pale, yet slightly flushed skin underneath.
She was thin—extremely thin.
Her collarbones jutted out, her ribs were distinctly visible, and her abdomen was so flat it appeared almost hollow.
Due to prolonged malnutrition and lack of exercise, she lacked any typical female curves, which made her look... not particularly alluring.
Furthermore, beneath that layer of skin, threads of metal could be faintly seen running through her—a black-tech network implanted into her body that pulsated gently in rhythm with her breath.
Hulie raised her head and looked at her reflection.
Though gaunt to the point of emaciation, her face possessed exceptional bone structure, featuring a high nose bridge and deep-set eye sockets. Her green eyes, in particular, looked remarkably clear and strikingly cold once the dirt was washed away.
She picked up her toothbrush.
Time to brush!
Frantically brushing!
The stiff bristles rubbed against her gums until the white foam turned pink and her mouth filled with the taste of blood.
She felt no pain, only sheer satisfaction!
Half an hour later, Hulie stepped out of the bathroom.
She was wearing a set of grey work overalls issued by Deep Space Industries. It was the smallest size available, but on her, it still looked baggy, with the sleeves and pant legs rolled up several times.
Her wet hair hung over her shoulders, still dripping water.
"Oh, little Hulie, all cleaned up?"
A middle-aged female worker mendings clothes in the dormitory looked up, a warm smile on her face.
She was a veteran employee from the original Engineering Department 1, as well as one of Hulie's current roommates.
"Come over here, sweetie. I saved a piece of meat for you."
The worker picked up a warm synthetic meat patty from her lunchbox with her chopsticks and held it out.
Hulie stared intently at the woman's rough hand, which had a bit of black dirt trapped under the fingernails.
She showed no disgust.
She accepted the meat, voiced her thanks, then sat by the edge of her bed and ate it in small bites.
Over the past few days, Abominable Intelligence had given her a task: familiarize herself with the operational mechanisms of Deep Space Industries.
Simply put, she was supposed to wander around, get to know people, and stop hiding in the corner like an introverted child all day.
Having finished her food, Hulie walked out of the dormitory building.
The sunlight outside was somewhat blinding.
She walked along the wide concrete road, watching the busy crowds around her.
The people here were very strange.
As an "Unsouled" with the traits of a Pariah, Hulie knew all too well what she represented to ordinary people.
In Imperial society, mortals who saw her would instinctively feel disgust, fear, revulsion, and even nausea.
She had long grown accustomed to it; it was the soul's rejection response to the void.
Here, however, that response seemed to be suppressed by an even stronger emotion.
"Hey, little beauty! Where are you off to?"
Several passing female workers smiled and called out to her as they passed by.
Some even tried to reach out to pat her head or pinch her cheek.
In the eyes of these older women who had endured the hardships of the wasteland, the tiny, delicately featured Hulie was like a endearing porcelain doll.
Because she was so adorable to them, they subconsciously wanted to express their goodwill through physical contact.
Hulie said nothing.
Her eyes remained serene, but the moment a hand was about to touch her hair...
Her body moved.
Without any warning, she merely tilted her head slightly and took half a step aside.
The hand missed entirely.
The phase neural nodes granted her reaction speeds and dynamic vision far beyond ordinary humans.
In her eyes, the movements of these mortals were as slow as a slideshow.
The worker paused for a second, awkwardly pulling her hand back. Showing no anger, she simply smiled and remarked on how shy the child was.
Hulie continued forward.
She reached the edge of the plaza and looked up at the black scientific research tower.
Though no windows offered a view inside, she knew that a certain Abominable Intelligence was busy within.
Andy.
The top boss of Deep Space Industries, and the "Sage" spoken of by all the workers.
The corners of Hulie's lips curled up into a subtle, mocking arc.
Foolish mortals.
They had no idea what kind of creature lurked under the skin of the "Chosen One" they worshipped.
An Abominable Intelligence.
And even among Abominable Intelligences, the most terrifying kind!
An Iron Man!
A mechanical evil spirit that had once nearly wiped out the entire galaxy!
In the Empire, they were an absolute taboo—the kind where discovering just one would prompt the deployment of an entire Space Marine Chapter to eradicate it.
Yet here, this bunch of humans actually treated it like a savior, even planning to build a shrine for it while it was still alive?
This world was truly insane.
Still...
Hulie had to admit that this Iron Man was indeed capable.
He had actually managed to organize so many people and construct such a massive industrial park in such a short amount of time.
What's more, he hadn't killed her, and he had even granted her dignity and freedom.
For Hulie, that was actually enough.
Hulie was a pragmatist; she didn't care whether her boss was a human or a ghost. As long as she could live comfortably, working for anyone was still just working.
Right now, however, her target was crystal clear.
Moving out!
She had had enough of that four-person shared dormitory.
Although her roommates treated her well, the thundering sound of snoring and the body odor lingering in the air pushed a neat freak like her to the brink of a breakdown every single night.
She had her eyes set on those high-end apartments in Living Sector Block A.
Single rooms, private bathrooms, 24/7 hot water—units only senior technical personnel were qualified to apply for.
And she, Hulie Campbell, as the only female engineer currently in Deep Space Industries proficient in Necron constructs, felt entirely qualified to live there.
With that thought, Hulie quickened her pace and stepped into the research tower.
The Integrated Laboratory.
This place was now the shared office space for little Hulie and Tech-Priest Zor.
One large, one small; one old, one young. The combination of these two made for an exceptionally bizarre picture.
Zor sat before a workbench, debugging the logic circuits of a cogitator.
Hulie walked over, picked up a data-slate, and scanned it quickly.
"Hey, old man, this parameter is wrong."
Hulie's voice was ice-cold.
"The binary prayers of the Adeptus Mechanicus don't serve any practical function. I suggest deleting this block of code and replacing it directly with a logic lock."
Zor raised his head, his bionic eye spinning.
"Nonsense!"
Zor glared, his beard twitching in irritation.
"What do you mean 'no practical function'? That is the sacred language of the Omnissiah! How could you just delete it on a whim?"
"Besides, a logic lock requires multidimensional geometric protocol support, which our equipment isn't compatible with at all!"
"Then modify the equipment!" Hulie retorted without yielding an inch. "Can't the parsing station convert it?"
"That is heretical thinking, do you hear me? Equipment possesses a machine spirit too!"
The two argued over the issue for half an hour.
In the end, Zor lost the argument.
Because right in front of his eyes, Hulie completely disassembled that cogitator and built a new bridge for it.
Once the cogitator was up and running, its performance had indeed improved—even if only by a little.
Facts spoke louder than words.
Though Zor remained stubborn out loud, he was inwardly convinced.
Seeing that Zor had gone quiet again, Hulie knew her opportunity had arrived.
She dropped her aggressive stance, and the expression on her face softened slightly (though it was still that same stone-faced look).
Walking over to Zor, she reached out and tugged at his red sleeve.
She gave it a gentle shake.
"Tech-Priest Zor..."
Hulie's voice softened a bit. Though it still sounded quite stiff, it was the absolute best effort she could manage.
"Look, I even helped you fix this."
"Could you... do me a favor and speak to Andy?"
Zor looked at her warily: "Speak about what?"
"Let me take charge of the Necron construct parsing project. Pretty please?"
Hulie blinked her eyes.
"I'm only doing odd jobs right now, which is a total waste."
"If you let me lead that project, I guarantee production capacity will multiply several times over."
"Most importantly..."
Hulie finally showed her true intentions: "As long as I have the title of a high-level project lead, I can apply for an apartment in Block A."
"I'm practically being asphyxiated by that shared dorm!"
"I want a single room! I just want one!"
Looking at this young girl whose attempt at acting cute completely lacked sincerity, Zor directly pulled his sleeve back.
"No."
Zor rejected her mercilessly.
"Why?!" Hulie grew anxious. "Is my technical skill not good enough?"
"It's not a question of technical skill." Zor pointed upstairs. "Lord Andy is very busy right now; he is currently conducting a series of parsing tasks, and no one is allowed to disturb him."
"Besides, the Necron project involves a high level of clearance, and it hasn't been opened up yet."
"You should just stay here obediently and debug machinery with me. When His Grace is done with his work, he will naturally arrange something for you."
Hulie froze.
She hadn't expected that even after "sacrificing her charms" like that, she would still get rejected!
Hulie's cheeks puffed up with rage as she tried to blow herself up like a pufferfish.
She slammed her hand down on the table in grievance, sending the components resting on it jumping erratically.
"Gah! How could you be like this!"