Male.

The house turned out to have been a total waste of time, unfortunately. Mallory found nothing that could be of some use except for a few books and a pack of smokes. You had no desire to poison your twenty five year old body with pre-war condiments but your friend obviously found the idea quite interesting. Not the first time he was acting weird but, hey, he was the only one with the balls to face this wasteland’s dangers along with you. The two of you made a good team.

It seemed like a mad idea at first when you considered leaving Biosphere-09 but soon after sharing that idea both of you realized that you were actually mad enough to try and pull it off. It wasn’t about the lack of entertainment. It was about the lack of a future.

There were only a few women back in B-09 and quite a few men. To ensure optimal population growth and genetic development, Adam (the biosphere’s main computer) acted as a matchmaker. He compared the medical data of all inhabitants to choose the best mates for the women and, to your disappointment, you were not one of them. You could still enjoy the fine VR fantasies Adam created to curb your desires, but it was nothing compared to the real thing. Unfortunately, your secret meetings with one of the “married” females were quickly uncovered and, being a threat to Adam’s plans, you were sent to the Maintenance – away from the women, with restricted access to other sectors – to work with other dissidents.

It was there where you met Mallory. The main Maintenance technician was seven years older than you were. A tall, muscular man, blue eyed and dark haired, always too busy to shave properly. He was the essence of what you would call the strong, silent type, keeping to himself and unwilling to express his opinions. Compared to Mallory you were always a hothead, but you shared one thing - a quiet hatred towards Adam and his vision of society. Therefore soon enough both of you began the preparations to head out into the wasteland. Adam had no reason to keep you here; there were too many males in Biosphere-09 already. The others never suspected anyone could be **** enough to leave.

Honestly, you weren’t that **** to have sex (every once in a while one of the girls would sneak out of the farming grounds to enjoy some fun with you guys so it wasn’t that bad) but the monotony of working on the carbon dioxide processor “for the wellbeing of the colony” relieved only by playing poker (the best entertainment available in Maintenance) when the shift ended and a quickie once or twice a month was definitely not your idea of a life.

Adam gave you a map to Biosphere-07 (no use wandering aimlessly) without even asking what you needed it for; he was a machine after all and the data was available to everyone so he couldn’t care less. The patrols already kept the needed equipment in the garage: the car (batteries charged for another year), weapons and a “heck-of-a-lot” of ammo, first aid kits, medicine, etc. The cyberdoc module was kind of tricky to obtain but it was nothing compared to the trouble you went through to undergo the risky cell replacement and gene therapy.

Skipping the biogenetic crap, the treatment made you stronger and more resistant to pain; it enhanced your reflexes and regeneration rate. There were a few side effects as well but the dangers of the outside world proved it was a necessity.

“You sure the thing is edible?” you ask, scratching the stitches on your arm.

It still hurts like hell, but with the cyberdoc even Mallory is an expert paramedic. It is sure to heal well.

“The doc says it’s clean enough...” says the other man, patiently watching the fire. “Besides I wouldn’t want to waste this much meat.”

The thing you killed turned out not only edible but quite tasty as well, so you made sure to take as much of it as possible with you.

You leave the burned out ruins of the town at dawn and keep going east through the dusty waste. You haven’t seen any humans since you left - although some of the things you encountered resembled them - which, during the first two weeks, made you wonder if there were any left outside the biospheres. Your worries were replaced with a different kind of anxiety when you were attacked by a group of highwaymen. Savages that they were, it felt bad killing the only people you managed to meet in this desolate land but now – almost six weeks after that incident – around midday you realized that Lady Luck was still smiling upon you.

“I’d say it was a truck... or two... and at least two other cars” says Mallory, watching the tire tracks without a hint of emotion other than curiosity. “A convoy or a caravan.”

He looks up at you and asks the question without speaking the words. You learned to recognize these situations. That was Mallory in all his creepy indifference. He didn’t care about much now that you were on the road. He felt alive and it was all that mattered to him. Whether you went after the caravan or continued towards B-07 had no importance. It seemed all the big decisions were yours to make.