[New here, little brother?]
[How come I've never seen your model before? Don't tell me you're human?]
[My waist hurts a little. Come take a look for me.]
[No, no, no, don't touch there—Aaaaah! Huh? Holy shit? You cured it with a touch, brother! Thanks!]
[I'm cured!]
After making the rounds in person and receiving enthusiastic introductions from all sorts of mechanical big brothers, Ji Jue had more or less figured out the state of the camp.
This really was just an ordinary survivor settlement.
Everyone here was a native "resident" of the Rift World—or rather, one of its "creations."
Due to all sorts of loopholes and errors, they had noticed, to varying degrees, that there was something wrong with their lives and with themselves. That was why they feared the world above and fled here to huddle together for warmth.
The Prophet rarely showed herself, yet the atmosphere in the settlement was quite friendly and harmonious. There was none of the bullying and exploitation common in post-apocalyptic stories. Every so often, people would flee here from elsewhere with their families, and they would quickly be settled in as well.
Their food came from two very old Starch Conversion Machines and the automated production equipment in the warehouse, while their drinking water came from the protected pump in the middle of the camp.
Some people voluntarily maintained order, while others regularly headed out in groups to explore the entire Rift World, though their gains were usually meager.
If this were some webnovel protagonist, he'd have figured out the color of the Prophet's underwear within six hours. Yet Ji Jue had spent most of the day just doing good deeds.
He fixed air conditioners and refrigerators, repaired train cars, then welded sheet metal...
He was having so much fun he couldn't