Problems Don’t End

The rain tapped against the window in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. The damp scent of wet earth seeped into the apartment, carrying with it old memories—memories of when the world was wild, untamed, and man had yet to bend the forest to his will.

I sat there, near the window, watching the droplets slide down the glass as if time itself was dripping away with them.

Airachnid murmured softly, curled up in a mountain of blankets on the couch. Even in sleep, she seemed restless. Maybe it was the human body, maybe it was the lingering effects of the drink… or maybe, just maybe, it was the entire world shifting outside.

I rose quietly. My steps carried me to the backpack tossed carelessly in the corner. From it, I pulled out an object that made the weight of every second of my existence heavier: a metal rod, or at least, that's how it started.

At my touch, it extended, reshaping itself into a spear. It wasn't the same as when I first created it. I could feel it. It vibrated, alive, as if it had its own will. It wasn't just metal anymore. It was a conduit.

Like an invisible thread, the spear kept my connection to the forest, not as control anymore, but as a symbiotic link.

Worse still: I could feel my energy constantly flowing into it, without respite, as if feeding something that was growing beyond my reach. A living bridge between me and a cyberformed ecosystem.

But the solution wasn't simple. I couldn't destroy it, not out of fear, but because of the consequences. The energy accumulated inside was as unstable as it was dense. If released the wrong way… it could devastate an entire city. Maybe more. And in the wrong hands, this thing wasn't just dangerous, it was catastrophic.

When I created this spear, my intention was simple: a remote control, a leash for the monster I had unleashed. But now? Now it felt more like an extension of the forest itself… or of me.

And something told me that if it were taken… things would get ugly. The only right move was to keep it close. For now.

Airachnid sat up abruptly, the blankets sliding off her shoulders like wet leaves. Her purple eyes were wide, still cloudy, and she looked around the room like a wild animal trying to understand its own cage.

"Where…?" she murmured, her voice slow, confused. But then her eyes found me. I was standing by the window, holding the spear, and that seemed enough for her body to relax, just slightly.

"You're fine," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "It's just… you're officially the weakest creature to alcohol I've ever met."

She frowned, massaging her temples. "That was… horrible. The sensations… they're too strong."

"Yeah, I noticed." I stepped away from the window and dropped the spear back into the backpack, covering it with a random shirt to at least make it look less conspicuous. "You not only got drunk in a single sip, but you also felt everything was amplified. I think your body is amplifying human senses in an exaggerated way. Maybe your nervous systems are particularly sensitive to sudden changes while you're in human form."

She looked at me, confused, almost offended. "You turned me into a defective human?"

"I only adapted the structure to look human. The rest… well, maybe your Cybertronian mind is trying to decode human stimuli in the most literal way possible. Like everything is… new. Or you're just really bad at drinking."

Airachnid lay back down again, covering her face with her arm.

"Humans feel this all the time? How do you not go insane?"

"Some do go insane," I replied with a half-smile. "Others are just more aware of their own limits. Humans are a complicated race. I've seen their entire evolution, and believe me, humans are persistent… and stupid when they want to be."

I looked at the broken clock on the wall.

"We should leave this city tomorrow. I'll create a car and then… ahhhggg!"

The pain hit like thunder tearing through my skull from the inside out. My knees buckled, and my hand instinctively went to my head, as if that could contain what was coming.

It was like every star in the universe went supernova simultaneously and all of them exploded inside me.

I felt the pressure tear through every cell of my body, energy boiling beneath my skin, fighting to break free. It was like trying to contain a big bang inside a glass of water. Every ounce of my focus was consumed by a single effort: contain it.

If I failed… it wouldn't just be this city. It would be the end of the solar system. Maybe even the neighboring galaxies.

Seconds passed. Or hours. Time lost all meaning.

When I opened my eyes, everything was still spinning. The air felt dense, like lead. The pain was searing, a headache that could make a god beg for mercy.

Airachnid was in front of me, tense but hesitant. It was clear she didn't know what to do and with good reason. I was the only thing keeping this entire world intact.

"My power…" I murmured, my breath still ragged. "Just what I needed…"

I stopped for a moment, feeling that pulsating core of energy at the center of my chest.

"Don't tell me I've… entered Awakening State…"

"Awakening State? What is that?" Airachnid asked, her brows furrowed, still trying to grasp the gravity in my voice.

"It's the point at which the AllSpark stops releasing partially infinite energy... and begins generating energy beyond any concept of limit." My voice came out low.

"So… can't you just turn it off?"

I turned my face toward her, and from my expression, she understood the answer before I even said anything.

"All the time I've carried the AllSpark within me, it has never entered this state. I always held it back, always kept my energy output to the bare minimum… like a river dammed by a fragile barrier."

"Then what's the problem now?" she pressed, trying to keep her calm.

I sighed. "The problem, Airachnid… is that now the dam has broken. And I am the damned river."

I glanced at the window, watching the rain.

"In this constant flow, any use of power, even the smallest, most insignificant act, could turn this entire planet into cosmic dust. The slightest gesture could shatter mountains, evaporate oceans, tear the atmosphere into pieces."

She took a step back, her eyes widening. I don't blame her. It's the only sane reaction.

"You're telling me… that at any moment, you could blow up this planet?"

"Yes." I swallowed hard. "I can't use my powers. Not like this. If I give even a single inch, if I lose focus for one second… it's over."

The silence that followed was dense as concrete. Outside, the rain kept falling as if it were just another ordinary night.

I froze for a moment, a strange shiver running down my spine. A familiar energy signature… dense, precise, unmistakable. Something I had long thought buried in the past… something from Cybertron.

"Fortunately," I murmured, a tense smile on my lips, "there's a solution."

Airachnid turned toward me, her expression still tight with tension. "Solution? What? I'm not looking to become stardust just by standing near you!"

"Relax," I replied, forcing a lighter tone. "At worst, you'd just end up with the planet's most extreme sunburn."

She snorted, clearly not amused by my comment, but it was the best attempt at levity I could muster at that moment. I walked to the window, watching the rain run down the glass as if trying to wash away the weight of what I was about to say.

"There's something… that can contain this energy. The original vessel of the AllSpark."

"Vessel?" she repeated, frowning.

"Yes. The cocoon that sealed the AllSpark from the very beginning of creation. It was forged to withstand its power… Primus made it either for it or for me, depending on how you look at it. If anything can endure the insane energy I'm generating now, it's that cocoon."

"And where is it?" The question came sharp, almost cutting.

I sighed. "Last I knew, it was in Africa. But over the years… a human organization recovered it. I believe it was during World War II, to be exact."

Airachnid crossed her arms. "And how do you even know all this?"

I turned, my expression neutral

"Because there was one single human on this planet who discovered who I really am. The only one who got close to the truth. And honestly? I never cared about the cocoon. It was just an empty shell, without purpose… until now."