"Alan, wake up, kid!"
I jolted awake, my head pounding like a drum. It wasn't that I had lost all my memories of my parents from my previous life; rather, they were probably starting to come back. I glanced at the clock—3:00 AM. I had awakened before my charge arrived.
When people reincarnate, they tend to go out and save damsels, build harems, and so on. Meanwhile, I'm living like a rat, hiding in the shadows, always alert and terrified that some cosmic being will notice me—an anomaly—and wipe me out like a sand painting. No one knows the potential of my powers better than I do, but to realize that potential, I first need to learn how to remain hidden. After all, I'm just as vulnerable as any average person.
And it's raining outside again. What is this place, Gotham? Now that I've used three charges in three different fields of knowledge, I'm becoming increasingly certain of a few things:
My powers recharge each day at exactly the same time. Once or twice could be a mistake, but three times is a certainty. Every charge I use gives me mastery of all knowledge up to that field's maximum level in this universe. It grants me not just knowledge, but also the skills and muscle memory needed to apply it effectively. I seem to have some kind of panic dampener as part of my abilities.
It's time to start testing the limits of these abilities. I need to find out if I can apply another charge to an already acquired field of knowledge and, if I can, what the outcome will be. Additionally, I want to experiment with charges in other fields, like painting or social engineering, since I've only focused on areas related to science so far.
I check the time again—it's 3:10 AM. I can already feel the charge urging me to use it, which only confirms my theory that I don't have to use the charge immediately upon receiving it. This allows for greater flexibility in applying my charges based on immediate needs, making me more reactive to the situations around me. I also need to determine whether these charges can stack if I gain a new charge the next day, or if they will replace the old one. If stacking is possible, it would make me incredibly versatile.
Right now, though, every charge is invaluable and cannot be wasted. The last experiment was a significant test of my nerves. Without further delay, I decided to put the charge into Operational Security and Tradecraft.
Immediately, knowledge flooded my mind about how to erase my digital footprints. I learned not just about digital privacy but also how to conceal my physical identity, along with techniques for crafting fake IDs and bank accounts so convincingly that even a thorough investigation would leave no trace.
Rest and relaxation had to take a back seat; I needed to prepare. I rose from the bed, shivering slightly as the cool air from the window brushed against me. Looking in the mirror, I saw my pale, red-rimmed eyes staring back at me from a face gaunt like a zombie's. Yes, I was tired, but my mind was buzzing with excitement. It wouldn't let me sleep; it wouldn't let me rest. The need to put my ideas into practice ignited something in me that I had never felt in my current life or even in my previous one, before gaining these abilities.
Laying the Framework:
Being in a tinker fugue is a unique experience that is hard to describe. It feels like you step back and let the process happen. Time seems to lose its importance, although you know it is passing quickly. I was surprised to find that my pinky could stretch far enough to hit the Enter key on the keyboard.
Last night, I trained my makeshift AI, Athena, to recognize obstacles about seventy-five percent of the time. With my knowledge of tradecraft, I could secure her code so no one could reverse-engineer it.
I started by inserting a USB drive labeled "LIVE OS—GHOSTNODE" into my laptop. Booting from this drive meant that nothing I did would affect my hard disk. Every file and line of code would only stay in RAM. If someone took my computer, they would find nothing.
In this temporary setup, I opened my folder for training Athena. She had done well with black-and-white footage of boxes, chairs, and a discarded skateboard. Now, I needed to give her new data from a nighttime test of Shade Mark II, a new stealth drone prototype. I had done some quick hover tests yesterday and saved several video clips on a microSD card. I plugged the card into a USB reader, clicked "Import," and waited for Athena's neural network to learn from each frame.
While Athena learned, I worked on her code. I used what I learned from tradecraft to:
Encrypt the model in RAM so it wouldn't create a visible file. Athena's "brain" now only existed in RAM—if my laptop shut down, she would disappear. Change file signatures on the few files I needed to export. This made even "identical" training sets look different under forensic examination. Hide execution paths so that if someone hacked my setup, they would only see meaningless operations in my terminal logs—no clear commands for training the neural network.
In about an hour, Athena's accuracy improved to eighty-five percent for low-light images. I tested her on a new night clip that showed a stack of chairs, some laundry baskets, and a small toy robot in a dark corner. She identified each obstacle correctly and moved smoothly along her virtual flight path. I was excited to let Athena fly Shade Mark II through a more complex maze tomorrow night.
Finally, I made a hard copy of Athena's latest code and put it in a hidden spot on my desk, inspired by Light Yagami's setup from *Death Note*. Then, I issued the "CLEAN_UP" command. Every temporary file, debug log, and fragment of code I had created disappeared. The screen flickered as I shut down the RAM-only setup. My laptop's hard disk was empty, as if no work had ever been done.
5:00 a.m. — Hunger, Plans, and Glimpses of Dawn
By 5:00 a.m., I was starving, and raiding the fridge seemed like my only solution. I fixed myself a bowl of cereal that tasted overly sweet—perfectly unsafe and unhealthy, but filling.
As I ate, my mind began to outline a plan for Operation Junkyard. After school, I intended to head to the local junkyard—an enormous lot filled with rusted cars and discarded electronics, located just a few miles from Warehouse #14. As any self-respecting tinkerer would know, I needed to acquire the materials I lacked:
- Micro solar cells salvaged from old street lamps
- Copper wiring and circuit boards to construct new drone connections
- Small motors from discarded e-bike parts
- Lightweight structural materials—possibly aluminum scraps
However, I couldn't just walk in and take whatever I wanted. I would need to slip in under the cover of night, avoid patrols, and carry out the parts without being seen. My new charge had equipped me with the knowledge to map the perimeter cameras, observe guard shifts, and calculate hundreds of escape routes in case something went wrong.
6:00 a.m. — Groggy Sibling Teasing
I melted into the living room couch, tired, where Aunt Lulu had already placed a fresh pot of coffee. Uncle David wandered in, yawning, followed by Amelia, their daughter, who had arrived from campus for the weekend. She yawned noisily and flopped down beside me.
"Ugh, you look like a zombie," she teased, poking me in the ribs. "Did you stay up all night? Or were you just working the muscles in your right arm?"
I spit my coffee out, taken aback. "What the heck? Where did you even get that idea?" I was flabbergasted that she would ask such a question in front of her parents.
"Mind your manners, young lady, or I will wash your mouth out with soap," Aunt Lulu said sternly, though Uncle David was trying to look serious while stifling a laugh, making his face quite colorful.
"Listen to your mother, Amelia," Uncle David said, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry," Amelia replied, grinning unapologetically.
"Just… studying," I said, accepting another mug of coffee from Aunt Lulu. "I'm thinking of trying for MIT."
Amelia snorted. "Yeah, right. Studying. Mind and body go hand in hand, baby brother. You're going to burn out at this rate. You should get some sleep."
I took a slow sip of my coffee and winced at the bitterness. "Can't. Too much to do." I sounded convincing—because it was true. Athena's performance, the drone upgrades, the junkyard heist… none of it could wait.
Aunt Lulu looked at me, worry etched on her face. "Just… remember to take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will. I promise," I replied, feeling a warm surge inside because they cared. But I couldn't stop, and they really didn't understand how scary this world was.
I slipped an extra charger, some gloves, a cloth mask, and the small canvas bag I had stashed in my closet into my backpack. No one knew I would be loading that bag with scrap motors and circuit boards tonight, stealing something for the first time in my life.
8:00 a.m. — School: Same Old, Same Old
By the time I arrived at school, my eyelids felt glued shut. I sat through Biology, Chemistry, and a quick quiz in Math. When anyone asked why I looked so tired, I told them it was because I had been "studying too much." They quickly lost interest.
To them, I was just a studious teenager, and I wanted to maintain that image for as long as possible.
3:00 p.m. — Warehouse Check-In
When the final bell rang, I didn't linger. I hopped on my bicycle and pedaled to Warehouse #14, my off-grid hideout tucked between a shuttered auto shop and a closed-down grocery store. The building looked abandoned, with peeling paint and cracked windows, but inside it was my secret laboratory.
Stepping through the hidden hatch behind a loose pallet, I immediately noticed the faint hum of my setup. A single solar panel on the gravel roof captured whatever weak sunlight could sneak through the clouds. It trickled power into a tiny battery bank on a shelf, enough to keep one LED lamp and the laptop running, but no more.
I had applied RF-blocking paint to the walls, scavenged from a half-used can found behind the hardware store. This paint prevented casual Wi-Fi sniffers from detecting a signal, even when I turned on my router. Foam panels lined the corners, muffling any sound from motors or whirring fans. A one-way observation window with mirrored film ensured that no one outside could see in, while I could spot anyone trying to peek.
Everything was as I had set it up the day before—self-sufficient and budding. No, actually, it's rather pitiful, but we all have to start somewhere. Baby steps. I looked around the setup and sighed to myself… very small baby steps.
I dropped my backpack on the workbench next to Scrappy and Shade. Next to them lay parts I had pulled from the basement last week: a pair of small motors, a chunk of carbon fiber, and a coil of copper wire.
Tonight, my resources would increase. But first, I needed to put in another round of work on Athena.
3:30 p.m. — Athena's Evening Review: The Countdown Begins
I powered up the laptop, feeling the familiar thrill as Athena sprang to life from her battery pack. With a few deft clicks, I pulled up her latest model from the encrypted file hidden on my USB. The air buzzed with anticipation. Tonight's mission: elevate her low-light obstacle detection from a solid 85 percent to a stellar 90 percent or more.
In the dimly lit corners of the warehouse, I crafted a mini-test course using old milk crates, a plastic chair, and a rugged metal shelving unit, all illuminated by an eerie red LED lamp. It felt like setting the stage for a secret experiment. Shade Mark II glided into the flickering shadows, its camera feed streaming straight into Athena's neural net. Frame by frame, Athena analyzed the scene, identifying boxes, edges, and ominous shadows. Each misstep was a learning opportunity—I meticulously labeled each error as "false negative" or "false positive," swiftly retraining her model with newfound knowledge. By the fourth iteration, she hit an impressive 92 percent accuracy. I could hardly contain my excitement and tapped my fist against my palm. That was enough for a real test run, even if the obstacles were just shadows and metal.
With the training session wrapped up, I swiftly shut down the environment, erasing every trace of our work.
4:00 p.m. — Final Preparations for Midnight Heist: The Thrill of the Chase
I crossed the warehouse floor like a stealthy phantom, heading straight for my supply shelf brimming with tech treasures: spare propellers, duct tape, and an assortment of solder joints leftover from yesterday's exhilarating builds.
In a sleek scrap-cloth bag, I meticulously stashed essential gear for the impending adventure:
- A tiny first-aid kit—because you never know when luck will turn.
- Sturdy gloves for grip and protection.
- A cloth mask and dark hoodie to conceal my identity and confuse any onlookers.
- A wire cutter, sharp and ready for action.
I taped the cloth mask to the inside of my backpack pocket, ensuring it stayed crisp and ready for when the clock struck. My hands trembled with excitement, each second ratcheting up the adrenaline. This would be my first solo raid on the junkyard—failure was not an option. What kind of self-respecting reincarnator gets caught on their inaugural heist?
I recapped the main points of my daring plan, Operation Midnight Salvage:
– Depart by 11:30 p.m. sharp.
– Slip into the scrapyard through the east fence gap.
– Make a beeline to the motorbike engine section first.
– Secure two small motors, three copper boards, and a coil of copper wiring.
– Evade main patrols (I pieced together the guard rotation: 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. based on past observations).
– Exit through the same gap.
– Return triumphant to the warehouse.
With every detail in place, the thrill of the chase ignited my spirit. This was more than a heist; it was the beginning of something exhilarating.
4:30 p.m. — Family Curiosity
As evening settled in, I locked the hatch behind me, stepping out into the crisp dusk. The warehouse had offered a sense of warmth and security, but now, the reality of what I was about to do—steal something for the first time—hit me hard. Until now, I had always prided myself on being a law-abiding citizen. Yet the thought of a midnight heist sent a thrill through me that I couldn't ignore.
When I arrived home to our modest suburban house, the familiar scene of my family gathered in the living room greeted me—Uncle David engrossed in his newspaper, Aunt Lulu delicately crafting her knitting, and Amelia lost in her phone world.
Aunt Lulu looked up at me, her eyes filled with kindness. "Long day?" she asked softly, her voice full of empathy.
I nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion. "Kinda," I replied, my voice coming out hoarse, a remnant of the all-nighter I had pulled the day before.
Amelia, always keen to connect, hopped off the couch and moved closer, examining my face. "Your eyes," she remarked playfully, "you look like you wrestled a raccoon and lost." Underneath her teasing, I could see genuine concern in her eyes.
"Just… late-night cramming," I replied, trying to brush it off, but the knot in my stomach tightened.
Aunt Lulu set down her knitting, a look of concern passing over her features. "Just don't burn yourself out, okay?" she urged, her voice laced with care.
I smiled, trying to reassure them, even though I felt like I was living a double life. To them, I was just a kid with a big imagination and lofty dreams, and tonight, I wanted to let them hold onto that version of me.
5:30 p.m. — The Final Hour Before Dusk
In my room, I lay on the bed with my eyes closed, trying to absorb the whirlwind of the day. Athena's new AI model lingered in my fleeting memory. Shade Mark II and Phantom Mark I were cloaked in near-total invisibility, thanks to the darkness and digital scrambling.
I felt a bizarre mix of exhaustion and hyper-focus as I thought about the evening's heist plan. Finally, at 6:00 p.m., I gathered my backpack and quietly made my way down the side stairs. My heart was pounding. After tonight, my warehouse could be filled with stolen parts, my drones could roam like phantoms, and Athena might evolve faster than ever.
But first, I needed to rest my weary eyes and body before the real work began. As I switched off my bedroom light, I slipped under the blanket and let sleep—brief and fitful—take hold of me.
11:00 p.m. — Into the Night, Operation Midnight Salvage
As the clock struck 11 p.m., my phone alarm buzzed like a battle cry. I sprang from bed, adrenaline coursing through my veins, hair a chaotic mess, eyes wild with excitement. Dressed in dark gear and a cloth mask, I stealthily slipped out the door, my backpack perched on one shoulder.
The streets were eerily quiet, cloaked in shadows as I navigated the back alleys and side roads, my heart pounding in rhythm with my footsteps. I moved like a phantom, slipping into a heightened state of focus, employing my ghost-like tactics:
**Zigzagging:** I darted between sidewalks and kept my movements unpredictable.
**Low Profile:** With my head bowed and hat pulled low, I relied on quick glances at street cameras and reflections to guide me.
**Pattern Breaking:** Just as I approached a streetlight, I pivoted and doubled back, keeping out of sight.
By 11:45 p.m., I found myself at the fence line of Sam's Salvage & Scrap, a sprawling maze of twisted metal flickering under the glow of floodlights. One guard was pacing in a booth, and two cameras loomed overhead. I had memorized this terrain during countless nights of exploration, and the rusty fence, surprisingly flimsy, gave in easily to my wire cutter.
I squeezed through the gap and slipped behind a towering stack of crushed cars, my heart racing. Crouching low, I crept over piles of rusted hoods, my backpack wide open and ready for action. I had to work fast; every second counted.
My eyes caught sight of two small motors—perfectly intact, wires still coiled and spark plugs missing. I snatched them up and crammed them into my bag. Next, my gaze landed on a half-dismantled computer from an e-waste pile, with circuit boards tangled together like treasures waiting to be uncovered. As the guard turned away, I seized the opportunity, grabbing three boards and quickly tossing them into my bag, sweat clinging to my brow.
Suddenly, a bright beam of light cut through the darkness, swinging dangerously close. The guard was patrolling closer than I expected! I froze, heart in my throat, and on pure instinct, I dove into the back of a battered pickup truck chassis, camouflaged behind a mountain of scrap metal. The guard's flashlight swept past me, oblivious to my presence, and I held my breath, praying for a stroke of luck.
As the coast cleared, I exhaled sharply, adrenaline surging through me. Just one more score: a length of pure copper wire from a broken transformer. With trembling fingers, I carefully extracted a coil, doing my best to minimize any noise. My pulse raced as I dashed back toward the fence, climbed through my escape route, and sprinted down the alley, pulse pounding in my ears.
Not a soul saw me. My bag was now heavy with precious motors, circuit boards, and glimmering wire, yet I moved like a whisper through the night, a ghost slipping away into the shadows.
12:15 a.m. — Safe Return to the Warehouse
My bicycle was waiting where I had hidden it. I hopped on and leaned into the dark streets, pedaling like I had stolen something—because I had. By 12:45 a.m., I reached Warehouse #14 and slipped inside through the hidden hatch.
The warehouse felt like a cocoon. I dumped my haul on the workbench: five small motors, three circuit boards, and a few coils of copper wire. My heart pounded with a mix of triumph and fatigue. I had what I needed.
Over the next hour, I carefully integrated the new motors into Phantom's chassis, soldering wires and securing the tiny components with foam padding. The new circuit boards would feed fresh code pathways to Athena, who would have real data on nighttime collisions to refine her models further tomorrow.
By 2:00 a.m., exhaustion hit, and I realized it was time to go home. I double-checked the warehouse: doors locked, lights off, solar panel wires coiled and concealed. I tiredly pedaled back home.
**Dawn's First Light — Almost Sleep, Brief Reflection**
I climbed the stairs to my tiny loft corner. Sunlight was just starting to creep through the high window—too bright for someone who had only slept a couple of hours. My eyelids drooped, but I stayed alert; I couldn't afford to doze off until my notes were secure.
I scribbled a final entry in my hidden notebook:
**Day 5 Addendum**
– Athena improved: 92% nighttime accuracy.
– Shade Mark II capable of 10 minutes of hover without logs.
– Phantom Mark I built: carbon fiber, cargo net, basic stealth tests passed.
– Junkyard haul: five 12V motors, three circuit boards, 10 copper coils.
– Warehouse locked, off-grid, RF-shielded.
I closed the notebook, tucked it under my pillow, and finally let my head rest against my arms.
"This is Ryan Carter, inspired inventor and small-time thief, signing out."