After the last few comments, a moment of silence fell. Everyone present stared at the chalk-covered wall — full of problems and ideas. What had moments ago been a chaotic collection of voices was now beginning to take the shape of something greater.
Grzywacz stepped away from the wall, put the chalk down, and turned to the others.
"One topic remains. And it's the one that will decide everything — the reward system."
No one spoke. The tension was tangible — everyone was waiting for something concrete.
"This can't just be a loose idea. We need clear rules," Grzywacz continued. "If someone risks their life defending this base or gathering food for us, they need something in return."
"I agree," Adam spoke up. "I propose a point-based system. It's simple and transparent. Every fight, every contribution — rewarded with points. You collect them and exchange for rations, better sleeping space, access to medicine, and so on."
"That only works if it's equal for everyone," said Nira. "But not everyone can fight."
"That's why points should be awarded for different types of tasks," Kosman suggested. "Not just fighting, but also support roles, help, and daily duties."
Grzywacz nodded, thinking for a moment before approaching the wall again. "Let's start with the most critical tasks for our base," he said slowly. "I propose the following point structure:
3 points for a full night shift on watch. 5 points for participating in a scouting mission or combat."
"What about everyday tasks?" Sareth asked, wiping his forehead. "Not everyone can fight or scout, but someone has to cook, clean, and care for the wounded. That should count too."
Adam nodded. "We can add 'repetitive tasks' — kitchen help, cleaning, general upkeep. And make care for the wounded a separate category — that's a very responsible job. Everyday duties earn 1 to 2 points, care for the wounded earns 3."
"Alright," Layra said. "But we need a mechanism for oversight. We can't go on someone's word alone."
"That's why we need an activity log," Kosman added. "Anyone who does something that day reports it. The log is public. Some actions will be verified randomly or confirmed by others. If someone lies — they're removed from the system."
"I'll handle activity verification," Layra said. "I'll take the reports and coordinate confirmation."
"And I can manage the documentation," Kosman added. "We can set up the registration point in the old admin office."
"One more thing," Grzywacz said. "Maybe we should introduce a special reward for catching someone cheating. That way, everyone watches everyone else. And cheaters will stop trying."
Grzywacz wrote again on the wall. In large letters, he added:
Log Confirmations
Verification Council: Layra, Kosman
Repeat Tasks and Combat Missions
Then he moved to a cleaner section of the wall and wrote in even bigger letters:
REWARD: 50 points for confirmed exposure of cheating in the system.
"Let them know we're watching," he said flatly. "That kind of reward will be a strong motivator. People will start watching each other — and that will help keep the system honest."
"And what about false accusations?" Adam asked, frowning. "With that many points on the line, someone might be tempted to make something up."
Grzywacz gave a cold smile.
"If someone is caught making a false accusation... there's only one penalty: immediate expulsion from our base."
Hearing that, Kosman had a complicated expression, like he wanted to say something but just sighed and stayed silent.
"If someone doesn't like the rules," Grzywacz said firmly, "no one's keeping them here by force. But if they want to stay, they have to follow them."
"We should come up with a name for all of this," Nira muttered. "If people are going to trust it, it needs to sound... solid."
"'Contribution Scale'," Kosman suggested.
"Or just 'Survival Points'," Brann added.
"Let's keep it simple — 'Contribution Points'," Adam proposed, glancing around.
Grzywacz raised an eyebrow, then slowly nodded.
"Simple, clear, and accurate," he admitted. A few others nodded in agreement.
"We can finalize the system there," Kosman said. "Tomorrow morning, we'll announce the rules to everyone."
"And group people," Layra added. "We need to find out what skills they have and what they're capable of. Kosman and I will handle that."
"The rest of us," Grzywacz picked up, "will head back into the city. We need food, medicine, tools — anything that can help us."
Sareth sighed heavily and shook his head.
"Should've done this from the start," he muttered.
Kosman gave a crooked smile.
"The last two days were pure chaos. It was hard enough to think, let alone plan. We were just surviving hour to hour."
The air in the room was still heavy, but no longer with fear — now with a sense that something was being born that might actually survive.
After a moment, everyone began to disperse without much conversation. Nira glanced at her watch, barely held together by its strap, and sighed quietly.
"Already two in the morning... We should get to sleep as soon as possible," she said in a tired voice, more to herself than anyone else.
"Finally," Sareth murmured, rubbing his eyes.
"Meetings at this hour are ridiculous," Brann added, stretching with a quiet groan.
Grzywacz, hearing Nira, gave a slight nod and placed the chalk back on the windowsill.
"We all need rest. Tomorrow's going to be a brutal day," he said, heading toward the hallway.
Adam stood still for a moment, watching everyone scatter. Only Layra and Kosman remained, whispering over the duty allocation plan.
He walked the hallway, searching for a spot where he could lie down. He was exhausted — mentally and physically. Eventually, he found a stretch of floor in one of the side corridors, where a dozen people were already sleeping.
He dropped onto the hard floor, the cold concrete immediately seeping through his clothes and biting into his back and shoulders. Despite the exhaustion, he couldn't relax. Nearby, someone rolled over, a mattress creaked softly, and a few steps away someone coughed hoarsely. Bodies slept tightly packed beside one another, as if proximity could trick the cold and fear. He sighed softly without opening his eyes and stared into the dark ceiling, which felt even farther away than before.
"I need to find myself a room in the dorms as soon as possible," he thought. He felt out of place. The air was saturated with sweat, exhaustion, and some invisible sense of claustrophobia. Just seeing people sleep so tightly packed, hearing their groans and heavy breathing — it all disgusted him a little.
He closed his eyes, and images of life before the apocalypse appeared behind his eyelids. A bright dorm room, a bed with a soft mattress, warm lamplight on a desk. Quiet music in the background, a steaming mug of coffee on the windowsill. Even the sound of a roommate slamming the door now seemed like a luxury.
Now everything was different. Cold, dirt, the presence of strangers all around. Every breath reminded him just how much the world had changed.
He sighed heavily and closed his eyes again. "This is pathetic. Sleeping on the floor, surrounded by dozens of people, without a shred of privacy… One more night like this and I'll go crazy. I need to get a room. "