Deadworld Isekai

The prehistory exhibit continued for a while, talking about their hypothesis that agriculture helped early Gaians spread across the planet. As they moved through other exhibits, that same pattern held true. For the exhibit on Gaia’s Bronze Age, it focused on the types of tools Bronze allowed them to make. A similar exhibit on earth would have shown weaponry. Their heroes, the ones they felt were worth mentioning, were almost all agricultural scientists or people whose work directly fed into food or plants.

Matt’s butter-churning promises ended up being kept, and were supplemented by dozens of other hands-on activities meant for children. Lucy’s disappointment at not being able to participate was visible once it was confirmed that she couldn’t touch anything, even in the illusory dungeon environment. But she quickly found a workaround.

“Matt! Stop threshing THAT grain!”

“What’s wrong with this grain?”

“You’ve threshed it enough. It’s over-threshed. You’ve hit the point of diminishing returns with your hand-flail. You need to move on before you embarrass both of us in front of the silo master.”

Hours passed before they moved on. The idea that agriculture-is-everything of Gaian society meant that the even the simple-enough-for-children format of the museum resulted in both Matt and Lucy actually learning some useful things about farming.

The Gaians weren't just good at growing plants, they practically invented the category. Back on Earth, the best gardeners were a bit like wizards. They could make the plant grow in the right direction, produce outrageously big fruits, and get millions of calories out of a single acre. The Gaians put them to shame. They understood the plant and could shape it as if it were a piece of metal. Even what they considered to be simple, casual lessons about caring for plants were profound and useful.

“I kind of feel like we’ve done a bad job on our farm, now.” Matt said, only half joking.

Lucy didn't look too amused but nodded her head in agreement. For Earth amateurs, they had done fine. By Gaian standards? It was a shameful botch-job.

The peaceful, plant-loving nature of Gaia had been so heavily imprinted on both of them that the sudden shift to Gaia’s history of war felt as strangely uncomfortable as watching a once loving couple’s relationship fall apart.

Early Gaia hadn’t had much in the way of combat during the short few centuries it took various thriving agriculturalists to convert the nomadic gathering tribes to solid farming folk. But there still was jealousy over the plenty that only some of the Gaians enjoyed, and that food inequality led to the occasional raid and small-scale warfare.

“After the era of the wandering gatherers was done, Gaia settled into a millennia of peace. Each community thrived, driven by their reliance on rich Gaian wheat. But it was this monoculture that was our undoing.”

Even in descriptions of war, agriculture was front and center. But it was all fitting into place for Matt. The story behind Gaia was a familiar tale. A population that became unbelievably reliant on one very successful staple crop, only to have that crop fail due to a fast-spreading blight.

Overnight, a millennium of conditioned trust in a single crop was betrayed, and the world was starving. And then there was blood. The details of how the leaders of the world pitched war as a solution to famine, how killing was supposed to help, were all there in gory detail. What surprised Matt was how long the war continued for.

Hundreds of years. Not all of the planet was at war over that period. Some countries stayed out of certain rounds for reasons of their own, or simply because they were smoldering ruins incapable of raising armies.

“Matt, this is horrific.”

“Yeah. It’s like they decided to get all their atrocities out of the way at once.”

The narrator hadn’t been lying when he had said that they were going to be open about all their worst mistakes. And there were plenty. Even in the abbreviated form presented here and even in the form they meant for their children to see, it was a long, bloody exhibit. By the time the era of wars started wrapping up, the technology developed to kill had driven the world to the modern age.

Back to the museum narrator. “And what stopped the war? More fighting? Better weapons? No. It was an order that made agriculture their religion. That remembered who we were, and who we should be, retreated to the wilderness with supplies, tools, and expertise meant for war, and applied them to solving the problem that had set the world to war in the first place. They brought back grain.”

When Earth had begun to understand the idea of genetics through plants, it came from an experiment by a monk called Gregor Mendel. The same thing appeared to be true here. The leader of the order, it turned out, was named Sarth. He spent a lifetime developing several ignored crops into workable substitutions for the failed staple wheat, and ended the war.

It still took time before a new age of plenty got enough momentum to convince the few remaining countries of Gaia to settle for peace, but the name of the continent Matt stood on reinforced the fact that his contribution was not forgotten.

—

“I can’t believe these were the people you wanted to see.”

The war exhibition had taken a certain toll on Lucy. She obviously had some concept of Earth’s wars and atrocities, but it seemed most of her knowledge of those kinds of things was more abstract as opposed to deeply understood. This had hit closer to home, especially in a virtual hand-on way like this. Matt understood. He felt the same way.

“I… I don't know a lot about worlds, really. Everyone has their good and bad side,” Matt said.

“You know about two of them. Kind of. In a way, that’s twice as much as anyone else on Earth,” Lucy countered.

“Well, fair. But what I’m trying to say is, from the two worlds I’ve seen, it seems like war is probably a reality everywhere. And yeah, I think things got pretty dark for these people. They had a couple of centuries of war. But as soon as someone stood up and said, 'hey, let’s stop this' and had any solutions better than starving to death? They went right back to gardening.”

Lucy sniffed. “For how long, though? How long until they went back to war?”

“I checked some of the other exhibitions. Everything except the one about the scourge. None of the rest are about war. By the time the system got to them, it looks like they used it to get better at hunting and gardening.”

That was the other big revelation of the museum. The Gaians didn’t seem to have the system through most of the history Matt had watched with Lucy. And when they did get it, it just didn’t seem to be very important to them at all. The system made some things easier, but they were already doing pretty well and had lost their taste for war. The exhibit about the system’s influence on Gaian life existed, but it was a stub compared to anything else they had watched.

“I can even show you if you want. These weren’t bad people. They were a good people who went to a dark place for a while, then returned to the light. They could have hid that, and they didn’t. That means something.”

Lucy was thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. It’s gonna take me a while. I guess it all just shook me.”

“I understand. Do you want to see the other exhibits?”

She shook her head. “Maybe another day. I’m sorry. It really was fun, Matt. I’m just a bit shaken up.”

“We did come here for a reason. Can you do one last exhibit?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

They both stood up and walked towards the last exhibit, one that was set apart from the others, tastefully positioned but clearly not one of the original planned exhibits. It was a larger, more imposing building than the others, probably on purpose, to keep people from missing what was, at the time, probably the most important exhibit in the museum.

Over the door was a large but simple sign that read “Our Enemy: The Scourge.”

Lucy and Matt entered the room, ready to learn what kind of monster had been strong enough to take down an entire planet. It wasn’t lost on Matt that the Gaians had openly referred to it as their enemy. From what he had seen, the Gaians of that era coexisted with the planet, and didn’t want strife. They had collectively, as a race, lost their taste for fighting and war. To call something their enemy meant something that it didn’t mean on Earth.

“So what do you have your money on? Asteroid? Portal to the hell dimension? A giant evil space-goat?” Lucy asked.

“I’m sure the narrator will let us know.”

“I’m betting on a shovel turning towards evil, and them not having the heart to put it down.”

“Shh, it’s starting.”

In front of them, a man materialized. There was no fancy background or setting, just a man in the short, belted tunic Matt had through exhibits come to recognize as the modern Sarthian mode of dress. With a serious expression on his face, the man launched directly into his speech.

“Welcome, visitor. As you likely already know, I am Ramsen. Once upon a time, I was asked to take a break from my official duties and provide the narration for this museum. I was glad to do it.”

Some kind of government official, Matt thought. The man had some kind of gravitas around him. Maybe even their President, or Emperor?

“It is in less glad times and with a less glad heart that I return for a new exhibit, one about an issue that threatens our very existence. The scourge. I will walk you through everything you need to know about it, and how you, a Sarthian citizen, can best help in the war against this danger. But first, before we do that, let’s talk a bit about plants.”

“Of course, more plants. Great.” Lucy complained.

“Shh, Lucy. Let me listen,” hushed Matt.

The man waved an arm, and a small table with a small potted plant appeared.

“In the philosophy of horticulture, as first formalized by Sarth himself, all plants are bound by balance. As our science advanced, we validated this to be true of every Gaian plant, although it was true of each in a different way. This bush, if carefully tended, will produce some of the most delicious fruit Gaia offers. In balance, it must be carefully tended. If it lacks the correct soil or the right amount of moisture and sunlight, it withers.”

“I told you we couldn’t plant that one,” Lucy remarked.

“Yes, you were right. Now shut up. Lucy. This is important.” Matt was not the type to be disturbed during movies.

The man waved his arm, and another plant appeared, a sort of stringy vine. “This plant has a different balance. It’s only with great effort and expertise that it can be made to give up usable fibers for rope. But in a return to balance, it grows nearly everywhere, on its own. We have a word for such plants. Weeds.”

The man waved his arm and both plants disappeared, as if they had never existed. Matt supposed that was right. They hadn’t.

“Even with our greatest science, even in our most daring carelessness, the balance of plants was always there. Like an inherent law of nature, no plant could grow in all climates. No plant was hardy without giving up some other valuable feature. We improved our plants, yes. But whether we intended it or had it opposed to us by nature itself, balance worked as a limit on the dreams we could accomplish. As well as the harm we could do ourselves.”

Matt had an idea where this was going. He almost didn’t want to stay to hear that idea confirmed. He had regretted seeing the Gaian atrocities. This was worse. What the man was building up to, if Matt's guess was correct, was going to make him sick to his bones.

“We called the personality that descended on us the system of war. It did not call itself this, nor did it need to. With every reward it offered, it also offered strength. Not strength of creativity, or of character, but rather strength in battle. Would you like a sword, it said? No, we said. It assured us the swords were meant for beasts, not humans. But we had seen humans be beasts. We had been beasts ourselves.

“We limited what we would take from the system. Where rewards were unavoidable, we took only what would help us with our work. Strength for a plow, but never a sword. And after a time, the system seemed to recognize this. It stopped offering weapons and started giving us tools. Until one day, it started offering seeds.”

The man waved his arm, and a small vine appeared in a pot. There was nothing special about the plant that Matt could see. It was almost drab. It was the kind of thing that he would have filtered out of his mind.

Why? Why does it suddenly look so sinister?

“Orchards must be tended. Weeds must be pulled. That is balance. But the system offered something different. Something it said it had made especially for us.

“A plant that could be eaten and easily modified to create any type of vegetable matter required. It could as easily be a dinner as it could be made into a rope or a canvas. Best of all, said the system, it would grow anywhere, in any environment. Over time, it would adapt. If stripped of soil, it could still grow by feeding on something different until the soil was replenished.”

Lucy started up. “Please tell me they didn’t take that shit.”

“We immediately banned it. We explained to the people why, and they understood. They understood as if it were in their blood. Each man and woman knew not to reach for the devil's fruit being offered. If anyone didn’t, they were prohibited by the expense. All but one.”

No. No.

“He was known to us, a man of little capability and even less thoughtful of nature. We will not speak his name, but he longed to be a second Sarth, to prove what could be done. He not only took the plant, but attempted to improve it further. By the time we found his fields, it was too late. The plant had spread. No fire has yet been invented that is hot enough to find every one of the scourge's seeds, and those seeds that survive learn about fire.”

“That son of a bitch. Matt, the fucking system did this. It did it on purpose,” Lucy exclaimed.

Maybe not. Matt thought. It could have been an accident. The system is lazy. Not that that’s better. It’s almost worse.

“The scourge spread. As it grew, it wiped out what it had touched. Eventually, it leaves the land barren. It eats the nutrients, leaving nothing behind. And with its new energy, it then spreads further, and faster.

“We now have no choice. We will reach for the power the system offers, but not on its terms. With our science and the dedicated power of our entire world, we will take what it gives and bend it to our will.

“Accept the achievements from the system. Tell us when you do. We will use them, not for what the system wants, but for what Gaia needs. Do you have system-granted resources? Share them.

“In the meantime, we are preparing. You have seen the first of our Nullsteel food storage facilities, both large and small, as they travel to their destinations. You have seen our war mages and our parasitic plants.

"We are making progress, but make no mistake. This is a race to live and a battle to the death, all at once. If we move faster than our enemy learns, we will win. And every one of us must contribute to assure that future.

“Thank you, Gaians and Sarthians, for your support and brotherhood. I bid you a good day, and thank you for your part in our future.”

“Resist The Scourge.”