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Chapter 4 - Frankenstein's monster

I step out the forest a few days later. I have no proof that civilization exists, but I recall that God (for lack of a better name, I'll stick with this one) said something about using the data from my original "run" to shape this one. Also, the fish of destiny from earlier was definitely recognizable as a fish, so I assume that means that humans and probably other Earth animals exist here too. Well, unless this is a run with only plant and animal "lifeforms" and no humans, which I can only assume would not give much interesting data. So that's pretty unlikely. In any case, since I have no idea where I can find people, I've been following the stream feeding the pond I started at, going in the upstream direction. I'm blindly guessing that a burgeoning civilization would value the land near the intersection of a stream and the edge of a forest, and that a highly developed one would not leave this kind of forest sitting around. Now that I'm here, I'll look around the area.

A few hours later, I spot a horse drawn cart emerging from the forest a ways away from where I did. Yep, that's definitely a horse, and definitely only one person driving the cart. There is a pile of branches in the cart. Since they're too small to be used as logs for building, I'm guessing this is all dead wood from the forest, to be used for firewood (AN: unrelated, but you really can use branches as a building material. For instance, wattle and daub. You know nothing, MC).

Should I make contact? Right now, I primarily need information. It might be easier to control what information I get if I interrogate this one guy here versus a whole community later. But on the other hand, I don't intend to just waylay a dude, and I have absolutely no clue what kind of community he belongs to. I'd rather not have an antagonistic first contact. For now, I think the best approach is to follow him.

A few hours later, he reaches a village. It's pretty small; a cluster of houses with no obviously specialized buildings. Given that there are fields in the surrounding areas, I'm guessing this place primarily relies on subsistence farming for survival. For some reason, I've yet to spot any men of obviously working age handling the fields; so far, I've only seen old men, women, and children doing fieldwork. Judging from the horse cart, the fact that everyone is using hand implements, and the fact that this village looks about as old-timey rural as it gets, I'd wager a guess that current technology is somewhere around the medieval era. Next I'm going to run into an actual king or something.

The cart driver begins to unload his haul onto a pile of wood near a house. I approach by using the other houses to hide and eventually, as the driver goes inside of a house, I reach the wood pile and hide next to it. Finally, I can hear a conversation.

"***** *** ******."

"** ******* ****." (AN: no, not swearing, though it would be hilarious to write a civilization that communicates solely through expletives)

...And it's unintelligible. That's, um...I'm glad I didn't actually try to interrogate that guy. Learning the language is definitely a new top priority.

I spend the rest of the day sneaking around like a proper creep, listening in on all the conversations I can find. One particularly enlightening discussion (some kind of trade) occurred when I was in position to see both participants make some gestures. From that, I'm guessing that gestures are the same as on Earth. That's extremely useful, if a bit unlikely.

The next morning I'm certain that something is off: there are no young adult men in this area. Women? Yes. But not men. Not in the village and not working the fields. Since the rest of the population is all there, I'm pretty sure this means a war is on. Historically, feudal lords have conscripted the male youth population to handle their construction projects, but the old people in the fields are planting crops; no lord would do any conscripting now except for military purposes. Therefore the men of the village are probably off in a war serious enough to have no survivors or serious enough that they're not allowed to return during planting season. Either way is bad news for the village.

Time to push a blindingly simple trade: they need labor, I need a place to learn the language. I locate an old man tilling a rather large field; he'll do. For a minute, I study the actions he performs. I can't hope to become an expert farmhand by being a creep for a minute, but I do need to at least understand the basic idea. Thankfully, it's pretty straightforward. He's just tilling a line that's already been marked off. Now I need to convince him to let me do the fieldwork. Since I can't reasonably attempt to hide my inability to speak the language for the long term, I guess I'll open with it. I approach.

["Hi there, can I help with that?"]

I'm speaking in English right off the bat to demonstrate that I do know a language, just not this village's language. I'm assuming that in a place like this an outsider is still considered capable of reason and trade, but a mute is probably associated with mental illness and will probably be taken advantage of.

Unsurprisingly, the old man puts himself on guard. Makes sense considering something unusual appeared when he's probably already stressed by manual labor beyond his means. I repeat my query, this time pointing first at his shovel, then at the spot he's tilling, then following the line on the ground to its end. Afterwards, I point at the shovel again and hold out my hand. Another couple of sentences and a handful of awkward gestures later, he slowly holds out the shovel and puts his other hand on the base of what I think is a knife. Oi, I saw that. Whatever, fair enough.

I take the shovel and begin breaking the ground roughly the same way he was, except at a way faster tempo and with far more strength. Farming. No doubt this is exactly what God wanted to study. Now, I haven't actually secured anything from this guy in exchange, so I have no clue if helping him will allow the villagers to accept me, but since I don't need food or lodging or really anything from them besides not being treated like a leper, it's fine if they don't. I'll just move on.

It turns out that manual labor, when it's not actually laborious, is pretty nice. Performing simple actions for the rest of the day helps to stifle the sense of unease I've had ever since being dropped here. The old man hasn't actually said much, he's learned that it's pointless, but after a while he began stopping me and demonstrating improvements on my motions. There's something a little poetic about an old man teaching a kid how to set up a farm. By the time the sun sets, most of the field is ready for planting. He gestures for me to follow as he returns to his house. There's an old woman there, his wife? Eventually I'm handed a bowl of porridge. I'm not sure if he thinks it's payment or not but I suppose it's irrelevant. It's bland, but that's fine. It's food after all. Tomorrow I'll finish up the tilling and start the process again for all the other fields around the village. I'm guessing the old man can handle sowing seeds himself. Then once planting season's over I'll actively start listening in on every conversation I can find. Hopefully by then I won't be seen as a threat.