Beyond the drawing board; A gunsmith's summoning

My name is Volkner Philipov. You could say I am an accomplished gunsmith. I work in an exclusive contract with the military, creating weapons of varying designs befitting their purpose. They can be as simple as redesigning a pistol to fit the needs of a special forces operator, to creating new designs to counter the ever evolving state of missiles that threaten our country. Today was a long and boring day discussing details of a new missile system to counter new anti-air turrets. They relied completely on this new A.I. for control. Their biggest advantage was the lower response time and accuracy has improved twice over comparing it to the models of people piloting them. This made the military's current missile system obsolete. I couldn't control my excitement with this development and rushed home after the technical paper work became official.

My life finally came together as I had a two story home, with a connecting garage that held all of my important tools for work. I could create anything with my imagination and the memory skills of a custom A.I. I created. I often fed it information throughout the day, so if I forgot anything, the A.I. would know about it. Constantly remembering every idea and math equation was taxing, so if I ever fell short somewhere, it could recall certain important bits of information from 5 years ago that solved the same problem. I started my work about 8 years ago and I was 20 back then.

Now I was in my workshop. I could see the weapons on the wall, coming from different ages in history, each of them revealing their creators' thought process and purpose. The sun shone on my skin as I viewed my desk, mechanical pencils of different hardness to create the many layers needed for designing. A well-worn eraser I need to replace soon. the dust dancing in the air, illuminated from the sun.

I often kept my space as organized as I can, however close that can be, despite it getting worse every year from the new tools I required. Recently, I had an overhead camera placed to record what I was drawing and convert it digitally. I can't help but enjoy the physical touch of making these massive projects. Finally, there was the blueprint that filled the table, patiently waiting for me to make the first move.

I grabbed my pencil of choice, leaning in to keep away from mistakes. My imagination went wild, as my boredom was fleeing me. Most people despise it, but I use it to my advantage to create scenarios that can lead me in the right direction. I constantly switched pencils, using each one to its fullest potential. Rulers to keep my lines straight, I would glance at my computer for some old notes.

My computer sat on another desk, one filled with drawers, not unlike the table I was using now. There is one monitor in the middle viewing the generic data of old projects. The sides held two more, each with its own purpose. I was viewing the right. This held open the notes I took at the morning meeting with my phone, and with them, I adjusted my design accordingly. I stood back and saw the barrel's design. I relished the moment, even letting out a smile without a second thought.

"This is going to be great!"

I rushed over to my laptop to make some technical calculations and see the force the missiles might need, the type of fuel, the different joints I can use, even the latest model of chips available. I asked my A.I. Steve, yes I know a little generic, But I like Steve. He's my creation, after all. You may as well compare a wild rose to a rose you grew yourself. They're no different, but you invested into one, but not the other.

I am glad I chose this field. I suffered so many failures, I nearly gave up on the profession. But now, I can gladly create pieces I can say to defend my home country. Even if others come after me with greater and better designs, I hope to be an inspiration for many that come after me. As the hours went by, the sun became golden. Changing the color of the dust in the room, eventually even the lights went on, powered by Steve himself.

Then my world changed before I knew it. I was sitting in my chair, but I felt the cold floor on my back now. The rustling of clothes was overwhelming compared to my dead, silent room. The overwhelming pressure of the air came into and out of existence, as I couldn't focus. My eyes couldn't yet make sense of the colors above me. They bled into each other. I could feel my body, but my mind felt disconnected. I knew this was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours could have passed.

My mind find recollected itself and I saw people clad in white robes accented with purple. Their design was simple: the hoods over their heads did not disguise their identities. Some were old, and some were younger, around my age. Both men and woman were among them. A thousand questions ran through my mind, but I couldn't catch a single one of them, like water in a river.

I finally remembered what I was doing and nearly yelled out in anger. But my jaw clenched itself shut, and I could only tear my nails into my own hands. I am sure that I nearly bled because of it. My exhale was weak, stuttering from the tension in my lungs. I relaxed my expression as much as I could, but my eyes didn't give in. I could only quietly mutter these words.

"Where am I?"

As I gazed upon him, his fiery purple eyes burned into my very soul. They seemed to strip away all of my emotions, leaving me hollow. My plans and convictions evaporated into thin air, as if they had never existed. It was as though he could see right through me, leaving no secrets hidden. I watched in awe as lightning crackled and danced around him, accompanied by a chilling smile that sent shivers down my spine. Despite his towering height of around 8 feet, he appeared unnaturally slender, yet exuded an unwavering strength. As he rested his hand on his cheek, deep in thought, I couldn't help but notice the delicate frailty of his frame. However, his presence exuded an immovable force. He reclined upon his throne, gracefully waving his arms in a welcoming gesture. Though his voice was not booming, it resonated with every fiber of my being.

"Welcome, young hero,"

he spoke, his words reaching the hearts of all.

"The nation of Rugiet Fulgur extends its warmest welcome to you."