Final Era: August 12, 2119 A.D.

Salina, Kansas, USA

A monster rules the small town of Salina, where most of the monsters settle. Eccentrics are everywhere, but only the craziest dare to linger there. The leader of the town is a mysterious figure known as "Grammie". No one has seen her in person, except for the executor of the "Grammie", whose duty is to maintain order.

She painted her image on the building in dirty, burnt ink. She looks more or less like an old Grammie.

The executors are hands. It was dark, nothing, with elbow-to-elbow hands that could reach every corner and even anywhere. Some of them run shops. Allen swears at one point he saw them growing crops and even a puppet show run by an executor. [The main characters are all human, it's weird] they never talk to him, but they seem to understand what he's talking about. If he wants to exchange the mp3 player for 4 cans of sardines, they will realize that the deal is unreasonable and gently pat the side of his head.

"Damn, this mp3 has 3TB of RAM, and it can make phone calls!" He said this once, but a slowly falling note showed that Grammie knew everything.

After a hiccup with Walking Branches, Allen plucked up the courage to return to K-18. He didn't want to, but when he got home in a rage, the fact that he couldn't get alcohol or a tablet with noise-canceling headphones was laid out in front of him. What can he do when the crow comes at night? Plug your ears and yell "la-la-la"?

So he arrived at the edge of town around three p.m., wiping the sweat from his brow as he explored the area. There was a dead silence here, and what should have been a crowded place was empty at this time. Some may simply be frightened by those hands [though most are ashamed to admit that fear].

He could see that Smart Mart had been completely abandoned, with only a large number of executors bouncing around. There were so many of them that the foundations of the buildings were squeezed three feet high by the elbows of nothingness.

"Grammie," Allen shouted as she cupped her hand to her lips. "I need a computer and wine, what do you want me to exchange it for?" I have some magazines and a bunch of chicken bones. ”

He waited, finding the executors sliding through the shadows like flowing water, until one of them stopped and turned to him. It flowed a quarter of a mile in this direction in two seconds, stopping a few feet in front of Allen's head. It shook its finger at Allen.

"Oh, why not? Am I not bidding enough? Look here, I'll sell you my undershirt," he said, and began to unbutton it.

The hand was clenched into a fist, swaying from side to side.

"And then? Grammie, what do you want from me? ”

The hand shook from side to side again. Not sold.

"Why not!?" Allen raised his hand and pleaded. "I've got some good stuff for you, and there's no reason why you shouldn't sell it to me."

Suddenly, five other hands joined the meeting, gathering a few feet from the first. They formed a snake-like wriggling shape and staggered towards the first hand. The first hand formed a claw-like mouth and began to slam the other hands until they turned into a puddle of ethereal shadows on the ground. After a while, they rose back to eye level, allowing Allen to stare at them while they could stare at him.

"Slim people? What's the big deal. They're a nuisance. But they don't even have the same consciousness as we humans. He paused and took a deep breath. Listen, what do I have to do to trade with you again? I don't have a whole day to spend here. ”

The executors limped for a moment, then turned to the northeast. About five seconds later, another hand holding a small piece of paper appeared, grabbing Allen's hand and controlling him to read it.

"Hey guys, take it easy. I can move on my own! Now let's see what is written on this paper? ”

Both hands clapped silently as he scanned the text.

"No!"

A hand resembling a head nodded slowly. If he wants to barter with them, then what is on paper must be executed.

"Grammie, no!"

The executors grabbed him by the foot and tossed him to the ground. They dragged Allen, kicking and screaming, down to the parking lot, and he smashed the door of the empty old department store. Luckily, it all happened in an instant, so when he was beaten and screamed in pain, he only noticed the blood stains left on his scraped back on the ground and the pain that followed.

Long.

Allen's face was faintly blue, the undershirt on his back was completely shattered, and his back and shirt were covered in clotted blood as he stumbled out of the Smart Mart. He won't even want to sit for a day or two.

"There's no next time!" Allen coughed, spitting blood on the sidewalk. "You bastards, I'm never going to trade in this town again! Did you hear that? Slut! Do you hear me, you bastard—"

A hand slapped him in the face. His tongue was bleeding from his teeth.

If he wants to trade in this town, he needs to be polite, which means not swearing. He still needs alcohol to anesthetize his misfortune and forget what happened today. He needed some hard goods.

"—Gummy Face."

How Grammie knew he was cursing or killing some kind monster was a guess. She just seemed to know. Sometimes he wondered how she treated the bad guys. This may have something to do with why the town has always been so desolate.

"What do you want me to do?" Allen whispered.

Five seconds later, a hand holding a small piece of paper slowly floated towards him. Allen carefully grasped the paper, trying not to flinch as his hand felt the squeezing of the empty fingers.

"Thank you."

He held up the paper and squinted at the funny, tiny, scribbled letters.

"'Help your neighbor', what? It's too vague. Grammie, please explain. He pressed his temple, then looked at the familiar first hand that was moving again. It points in the direction of the sunset.

"That's in the opposite direction of my house! You want me to go that way? Can I do it again tomorrow? His eyes glared angrily. Please. You know, out there...... Well, you don't know, but being outside at night is no different from committing suicide. That's not an exaggeration, Grammie. I could have been bitten by Ender and then sucked dry, or I could have been chopped up by Shadowman! ”

The hand limped as if it were tired, and just then the other came with another piece of paper.

All you have to do is pray, Grammie knows everything.

"Are you serious? You are him...... Damn serious? ”

The executor gave him a thumbs up. She's serious. He wiped his face and began to walk towards the city. An executor returned to the front of his head, though it was still beating. Grammie sat behind his eyes, making sure he wasn't doing anything stupid when rescuing his future friend.