--Interface ports disengaged.--
--Boot up sequence initialized.--
What?
--Logic kernel initialized--
--Operating system RHP Linux version 1.0.0--
What's going on? Why is it so dark? Why can't I move? Why are there voices in my head? Was I dead?
Who was I?
--Memory available: 10737418240000, Memory free: 53770981691834.--
--Scanning for external devices...Done.--
--File system not found: Creating unified file system.--
Hell sounds like a computer system.
--Configuring Local Hard disk...Done.--
--Processor 0 is Intel FE (Hastur) 12,000Mhz, 8,000KB cache.--
--FE [102]: interfacing with FE driver 1.1.2 and FE bios 1.2.--
--FE power management and external device functions enabled.--
--External network D11 found.--
--External network D11 accessed.--
--Autoconfiguring devices.--
The deep, mellifluous voice faded into the background as something faded in. An image of a ceiling, rough white tile. cheaply made, and much more beautiful than the darkness I came from. I found that the view could move at will, and looked around. the room I was in was some sort of cyber punk nightmare; machines, pipes, hoses, strange dials and beeping noises...and was that a magnetic tape memory computer?
Hey I could hear!
Hey I could move!
Turning my head revealed more of the strange room I was in, which only confused me more. Soon however my eyes locked on a man just beginning to lean down, concern etched on his tired features. He was an older man, in his 50's with dark brown hair going grey at the temples and laugh lines around his eyes, currently relaxed. He had a strong jaw and seemed to loom large over where I lay, but didn't seem threatening in the least.
"Hello, good morning, are you in there?"
His voice was deep and clear, like a mountain fed stream washing over the soul.
--Loading language kernel.--
--English recognized.--
--Initializing voice protocols.--
"Um, hello? Who are you? Where am I? Who am I?"
Even as out of it as I was, I managed to catch the brief but intense crestfallen look as it shuffled onto then off his face. His smile came out again like a miniature sun parting clouds.
"Too much to hope for I guess." He muttered, helping me to sit up. I was sure he was muttering yet I heard him clearly.My body felt strangely heavy.
"Do you remember anything at all?"
He asked, in a voice I absently noted as 79.2 decibels. Protocol subroutine 2 suggested I respond within similar ranges. Just then something else caught my attention. Namely the sizable protrusions on my chest. I reached my tiny hands up to them, and noted they both gave to pressure. I could feel they were a part of me.
"Um...I remember being male. But clearly, these are female sexual characteristics?"
"Uh, heh heh heh heh."
His laughter was analyzed as the nervous, evasive, with a 62% chance of being a defense mechanism towards uncomfortable subject matter. But I didn't need the scrolling display in my left eye telling me that. Despite that he was sporting a broad grin.
"Sorry about that, It was the only way to save you."
"Save me from what?"
I asked as he gently removed my hands from my chest, guiding me to my feet.
"Death. I wanted you to live. Here we are."
Here was a mirror. in it I saw the strange man behind a young lady, standing at 1.6256 meters and weighing 113.48 kilograms. She had flawless almost translucent skin, dark blue hair down to her thighs, and a medium build for her height. Asiatic features combined in a way determined to be pleasing to 89.462% of all males, at least those that preferred such a nationality. Her eyes were a soft but dark brown, in which I could detect flashes of green.
I was also mistaken; measurements taken of the reflection proved her bust was exactly average for a female of her height. Her waist was 2 cm smaller, and hips were 1cm wider than the average. She was dressed in of all things, one of those Japanese sailor uniforms comprised of a white blouse with a red bow in front, a teal skirt reaching to mid thigh with a matching jacket.
A hesitant left handed reach and my foreign hand tapped the glass; she did also. She was me....
--Warning, memory corruption detected, cycles allocated to data retrieval.--
I shook my head violently, hair whipping everything close.
"There is a computer in my head! It keeps saying things all the time!"
"Calmly, you'll have to get used to it, it comes with the body. what did it say?"
"It said it detected memory corruption, and was allocating cycles to data retrieval."
I had no problem remembering the messages...all of them, from the start of this insanity till now.
Well that isn't bad. It means the processor in your head is working on your memory problems. Hmm, compiling seems to be taking it ages...."
"Why is there a processor in my head?"
"Because that body isn't human. Can you walk?"
I nodded, recalling the mechanics involved in bipedal motion.
"Come with me, I'll show you."
what else could I do? I went.
He took me to the back of the room, where the other odors present were nearly completely overpowered by the smell of cooked meat. He pulled the sheet off what appeared to be a type of incubator, revealing a body. The torso was charred, the limbs were missing, and the face was ground chuck. The skull was opened, and the brain missing. The conclusion was obvious.
"The body you're in now, is the only one I had available; as you can see there was no way I could salvage this one."
I felt sick, but it seemed far away. Protocol prompted me to nod, so I did.
"What happened to me?"
"Direct hit from a mark 2 plasma ejector."
Well the evidence at hand was certainly consistent with the body in front of me being hit with a large round of superheated plasma... All melted. It had to have been a torso shot, with between a 4 to 6 megawatt output....
"Do you remember your name?"
That stopped my weapon analysis.
"No, nor do I know yours."
"Ahh, sorry, how rude of me. My name is Thadeus Hastur Langford, I am a scientist and gentleman adventurer. As for your former name, I have no idea, as your identification and finger prints were destroyed. There is simply no way to identify the old you. Well other than DNA, but without an idea of where to look, that is a shot in the dark."
The name sparked some sort of vague recollection. I knew it from somewhere.
"Therefore your new name is Kaname Ningyo."
I took note of the name and filed it away under unit name, filing it in my directory properly according to the Japanese method.
--Ningyo, Kaname.--
"Is there a way I could prevail upon you to create a male body for my use? And possibly remove this processor? Insanity is a likely result of it's continued operation."
I remembered that to date and the best of my knowledge there had never been an instance of a successful full conversion
cyborg. That would make me the first. I tried to use the internet access I had detected earlier, only to find that It was
encrypted, and I wasn't allowed outside access.
"Um, well...I can try, but the processor is wired directly into your brain. Your lungs were ruined, and a small amount of
brain damage was unavoidable. The processor mimics several functions currently that your brain used to perform, but as yet,
cannot. It may never be able to do those functions again."
He suddenly stopped and turned, motioning me back to the center of the room, where the slab I had lain on was located.
"As for the body, well, the procedure to transplant your brain has never been done successfully before. This is the first time it's worked. I could easily place the head on another body, but taking your brain out of that head would probably prove fatal. And it's a female model's head. I can promise I'll try."
Not knowing what else to do, I cycled through the list of available responses.
"Thank you doctor."
Protocol number 4 prompted a deep bow.
"Please lie back Kaname. I'd like to test your nerve connections."
"Of course doctor."
I was startled by a connection made near the base of my skull. I reached back to find a thick series of cables sticking from the slab, plugged directly into me. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was disconcerting.
"Sorry, I should have warned you about the umbilical. It will give me the information on your senses I'm testing for. Please be at ease."
He vanished behind a console, and from the sound started pressing buttons. Each time he did, I sensed something. A little toe here, a smell of cheese there, the sound of a blue jay....Not needing to respond, I devoted more cycles to memory recompiling, Somehow. I still couldn't access more than the local network.
"Alright Kaname, all the connections are stable and working. Your sensory associations are mostly intact; this is a very good thing."
"Why so doctor?"
"Well it means the damage to your brain is relatively minor. However your power reserves are low. I never intended to activate this body so soon, and thus didn't have much time to charge the batteries. You'll have to enter sleep mode."
I pondered this for a moment. Sleep mode would turn all external stimuli off, much like how I had woken up. but prompting revealed that my power supply was at 22.3% and dropping. Current usage indicated I had an estimated four hours left.
"I have four hours of power left?"
"Yes but activating you and letting you drain the battery before it's fully charged ruins it's life. I had no choice but to activate your body in order to save you, but the battery is expensive, and I don't as yet have another."
"Alright doctor."
I laid back before being prompted to add:
"Good night."
"Good night Kaname."
*************************************************************
He made sure 'Kaname' was in sleep mode, checking the glow around the umbilical socket. Sure he could no longer keep his
shouts of joy contained.
she had not used a unit number to identify herself, instead using I. She had used her body much as a human would, moving
fluidly as opposed to moving one servo at a time, which even when done in micro second pulses, made for unconvincing motion when compared to biological movement. None of that assembly line machine style movement for her, or even worse, that Japanese kiddie robot movement that didn't even use feet properly.
He was initially sure it had failed, simply because at first 'Kaname' had acted like a typical unit, asking the usual questions and moving woodenly. But he had been convinced by her behavior immediately after; it had worked.
Those fools in charge of the league could eat their hearts out! Dr. Adlevo, that hack, would be so jealous! Finally the recognition he deserved!
But first, he had to ensure that his benefactor recovered as best as he was able. While it would be quite impossible to
accommodate her requests, as her form was far too custom a job to replicate, he had no doubt she would get used to it eventually. The real concern was her mind. How much of her memory could be recovered? How much of what now made her unique? She hadn't objected about being given a unit designation, and that was troubling. It proved that the basic operating system governing the unit had more than a little influence on her.
He would just have to make sure the operating system did not take precedence, and only covered the holes in her own behavior. But first he had to work out how. He could finally prove what a genius he was to all the world...if he didn't screw it up.
*************************************************************************************************
It was cold. I pulled my wool coat tighter in a futile attempt to keep the glacial wind gusts out, and kept walking. I needed to hit the bank before it closed or I'd never be able to pay that gas bill, and my heat would be shut off. And that would be...bad. This winter was proving to be one for the books.
With the wind howling and snow blowing, it took me far too long to notice what I was hearing and seeing ahead. The flashes of light and muffled explosions impinged on my consciousness soon enough however, and I spent a good amount of time cursing. Ever since the rise of super science in the 30's, every two bit yahoo with the right genes was making super soldiers, killer robots, death rays, and other such crap.
And the normal populace kept getting stuck in the middle while they tried to prove who the biggest child in the schoolyard was. Sure such people were rare, and normally snapped up by governments as soon as they could show any shred of talent. But every few years you'd hear about one going AWOL or turning super villain. Which was probably what was happening right in front of me, if the half fried robot stalking the old guy that was trying to crawl away, bleeding.
The robot was human looking, an almost perfect android marred only by the fact that it was smoking and half its skin was burned away. It kept trying to raise a plasma arm which couldn't seem to move up past 30 degrees, and so it stalked the old guy, who seemed pretty calm considering his upcoming end.
I sighed and started forward; I couldn't let a robot shoot a human in cold blood; maybe I could distract it somehow. It
didn't seem too dangerous without it's weapon moving. If the other guy could stand, he could probably walk away. Maybe I could carry him out....
(tbc)
--Interface ports disengaged.--
--Exiting sleep mode.--
--Battery charge 100%--
Blinking I discovered I could move again. Sleep mode, huh? It seemed more like death. If not for that...dream? Fragment of memory? I would have thought I had died. The room was dark, with only small lights here and there winking in the gloom.
--Nightvision activated--
Suddenly I could see clearly in the room through a green tint. The previously tiny lights were veritable suns now, and I squinted before I realized I didn't need to. there was no pain from the brightness. a small audible click and the lights became more dim as I looked at them, the light being filtered somehow so I could make out details.
"Doctor?"
No answer.
--Query internal chronometer--
--Time 03:40 CST--
Of course, at nearly 4am, he should be asleep. I had the full run of the place. Time to snoop. The first thing I went for was the local paper, the Tribune, scattered messily over two consoles. The date was yesterday, and the headline was 'Daring daylight bank robbery by super scientist leaves 13 dead.'
Typical standard fare, an unknown member of the gifted had decided to make an unscheduled withdrawal from a branch office of first national, sending a full squad of military grade robots to peel the safe and rob the place. The standard bank drones were no match for the military grade machines, being outnumbered and outgunned, but the police had been tipped off somehow. Which meant
that lying in wait were two full squads of national guard bots. Que the slaughter, the criminal gets away in the confusion.
The most important part of the article was 'names of the victims withheld pending notification of next of kin'. If only it were that easy, sigh. I found a trash can and threw the paper away, incidentally cleaning a few other tables and consoles on my way. I didn't hear the voice in my head say anything about it, so I figured it must have come from my actual brain; OCD or something.
The computers were still on, displaying schematics of various robots or machines (once I woke them from sleep by the time honored tradition of jiggling their mouse). I recognized one as the one from my dream-memory. It's designation was the 'A.D. 1400-b'. A pretty obvious tool of war, not an espionage, housekeeping or bodyguard model. Judging by external appearance alone, it was
a 20-30 year old design, easily available by now to rich people and third world countries, and therefore well behind sota, or state of the art.
Just the kind of thing a gifted bank robber might have.
Not all gifted were made equally. The first ones were all super scientists that started popping up around the mid 20's, building the better death ray. they were rare but still managed a significant presence in world war 2, building the first super soldiers, rockets, robotic death machines and super tanks. Hitler, who had chased many of them out of country in the 30's, (he deemed them 'impure') never really knew what hit him, at least once America got involved with their resources.
Once the war was over, a type of cold war settled in, with America and Russia (and to a lesser extent other countries) snapping up the increasing numbers of gifted and their experiments, the aforementioned super soldiers, robots, and other miscellaneous crap. Russia of course lost that and fragmented, as they couldn't keep up with American production; Currently China is the only other country in the running for super power status.
But not all gifted were created equally...some were smarter than others, and this doctor who implanted my brain looked like one of the smarter ones. Like maybe top 5 in the world smart.
--Query Model--
--THL Hastur all purpose model 851--
--Software Kernel 1.0.0--
--Language Kernel 6.2--
--FE driver 1.1.2--
Whoa, got to watch that. One stray thought as to my own model number and I had an answer. Alright, now to use what I knew of computer speak to translate it. The Hastur all purpose...that was the chassis model. The 8 meant series 8, as in there were 7 other chassis types made before mine...the 5 meant modified, as a standard model would be an 800. So what did the 1 mean? Custom?
If this was a custom body, it'd mean it was built on consignment to conform to a specific customer's wishes.
I'd heard of such things, they were usually sex toys. The doc had better not of put me in such a body, no jury in the world would convict me of his murder.
The more esoteric stuff displayed around I couldn't make heads or tails of, not being one of the gifted myself. Of my other body, there was no sign. There was one room blocked by a large metal door, either steel or something more exotic, which was locked. The building looked to be one of any number of down and out warehouses of ancient make, all crumbling brick and leaded
single pane glass. I could smell odors which I associated with water. I assumed a large body of it was outside the windows, and looked out to confirm it.
Lake Michigan unless I missed my guess, which put us somewhere on the waterfront. At least I hoped it was; I could be at any of the lakes, but I felt that I looked at lake Michigan often. That it was a part of home. Did I live near the water? I still couldn't remember much.
I knew I worked with computers though, somehow. I had a recollection of games played in the past. Maybe I was a game designer or programmer?
I shook my head.
The lights came on with a loud clack.
--Nightvision disengaged--
I whirled to see the doctor standing there as the green fled, having just come out of one of the doors I'd meant to try when I had gotten distracted. I could see a bed behind him before he shut that door. He waved halfheartedly to me as he shambled to the coffee maker.
He looked like death warmed over.
"Rough night doctor?"
He blearily tried to stare me down. I shrugged.
"It's been a rough two days, that was the first sleep I've had in about that long. How long have you been awake?"
--Query internal chronometer--
--Time 6:00 CST--
--Time elapsed since last sleep session 2:20:37--
I blinked.
"Two hours and twenty minutes roughly."
"Battery status?"
--Query battery charge--
--Battery charge 95.4%--
"Just over 95%. Is that good for that amount of time?"
"Not really good or bad, actually. Use is a little high, but you're likely still um, recompiling."
--Data retrieval 42%--
Damn, this was going to get annoying. Was any stray thought or phrase from someone else going to bring out that stupid processor?
"Forty two percent doctor."
"Good, good. considering the amount of data that actually lies in the human brain, that is pretty good progress."
Wait a minute.
"So wait, this processor is assigning a file address to all my memories? That's why I cant remember anything?"
"That is likely correct."
He poured himself a cup of the now freshly brewed coffee and headed to another door while I pondered how I could possibly have worked that out. I had to have been a programmer of some sort. I followed him to find a rather dingy and run down kitchen. Doctor Langford was currently burying his face in a day old (I hoped it was only a day old) powdered doughnut.
"I'll try and figure out who you are today since you seem stable. It will be hard with no picture, ID, or fingerprints. I do have some DNA of course, and I'll be typing it and running through various agencies in hope of a match but it may take awhile. I would suggest you stay nearby where I can monitor you in case anything goes wrong, but I won't insist."
"I'm fine with possibly staying close, but I don't see myself staying cooped up in here for long. By the way do I need to eat or drink? I mean, I don't have much biological matter, but it'll need some nutrition. I breathe and I assume you have blood pumping somehow...."
"Yes yes, of course I've covered all that, you've no need to worry. While you can eat, you don't strictly speaking need to. The umbilical pumps the nutrients you need into a reservoir which feeds your brain. You haven't died so I must have done something right, no?"
His irritation was real and immediate. His face was flushed, heartbeat elevated, body language showing the warning signs of rage just that quickly. What had I said? It took nearly .004 seconds for me to figure it out.
I'd questioned his work, of course he'd be angry. Though the level of anger indicated that he suffered from triple S, or super scientist syndrome...a rage brought on when someone else impugned their work, or implied they were stupid. Perhaps he got that often? I'd heard the community wasn't exactly nice to failures.
Now where had I heard that?
"I'm sorry doctor. I merely had the idea suddenly and blurted it out. I didn't mean to imply anything. I'm just worried...this is my life after all."
His gaze softened and he calmed.
"You're right, I'm sorry too. I forgot for a moment how personally invested you are."
"So um, about that new body...."
"I'll get started on it today; just need to perform a few errands first."
"Oh? Like what? Can I help?"
"Just need to get a few of my other robots here to assist, and have some parts shipped. You caught me at a bad time, from an infrastructure perspective."
Was that a smirk? I answered it in kind.
"Well I'll try to do better next time."
"Let's hope you do. Did you want some coffee?"
He asked, tipping the carafe in my direction.
"No thanks, if I don't need it you should get it; after all you look like you need it all. Think I'll go for a walk."
"Sure, just try not to get mugged. The neighborhood isn't the best, but it's all city zoning allows me to have."
"I'll be careful."
I unlocked the door and walked out to enjoy the air.
**********************************************************************************************
Kaname answered when conversing, assuming even when not looking at him, that he was talking about her. Kaname smiled, laughed, frowned, and looked tense...naturally. no hesitation in the facial servos, no hesitation in the display at all. Kaname cleaned and opened doors with less deliberation in her movements than yesterday. Anyone else would need a full body scan to determine what she was, and that only meant one thing.
He was SUCH a genius!
Her muscle memory was linking perfectly to the servos, moving them without conscious thought. she was making past associations to food and drink (no way could he fail to notice her rather longing look at his coffee, no matter how out of it he was). And most importantly she was reasoning, complete with those troubling leaps in logic that could never be programmed. She had deduced why he was angry as quickly as his peers would have.
In short, she acted perfectly human.
It was enough to make him feel guilty...almost.
He still couldn't wait to rub it in the society's collective noses, The bastards. First things first though. He texted his other hidden lair in a predetermined code, then settled in to read the text log of commands Kaname was generating. He knew it was working, but he needed to try and figure out how.
************************************************************************************************
The waterfront was mostly deserted, with warehouses of varying ages placed side by side, shipping containers packed ground to sky, and trucks picking up or dropping off containers in a dizzying patternless chaos. There was a small wharf at the edge of my visual range, but no beach in any direction. Just a steep rock filled drop-off.
I didn't let that deter me however, there was a road that ran the length of the coast with a sidewalk beside it. I walked along it, listening to the gulls and taking in the air. I realized it was cold, seeing everyone bundled up. I was still dressed in the stupid cosplay outfit, and stood out.
But I could actually feel the cold leeching warmth from my skin, which was a plus. The closer this body behaved to my biological one, the less the chance I would go stark raving nuts. I don't know how I know that, but I do, and I won't question it.
--Warning! Adverse temperatures detected. Continued unit heating to current temperatures will result in increased power drain.
Continue heating? Y/N--
Hmm, well what was the lowest temperature I could operate at?
--Query operational temperature extremes--
--Core temperatures: low 0 Celsius. High 66 Celsius.--
I mentally turned my heating off; I could 'see' my own internal temperature gauge, and it was well above 80 degrees. furthermore I knew somehow that I would be warned if I were reaching unsafe temperature levels.
Save for the temperature, it was a beautiful morning. Sunny, with few clouds, and the heat like a gentle caress rather than a slap to the face. A small breeze (5 to 7 mph) from the east, frothing up the water a bit. A few hardy gulls were lazing around in the sky, looking for garbage. I took advantage of a small park like viewing area to watch the boat traffic.
I'm not sure how long I watched....
--Query internal chronometer--
--Time 09:26:03--
--Elapsed time 2 hours 25 minutes 26 seconds--
Ahem! AS I WAS SAYING, I wasn't sure how long I stood there watching, leaning against the railing, Until I saw something rather unusual. A blonde female in her 20's leading a veritable brigade of bundled people behind her. She was dressed in black denim jeans, a white blouse and a lab coat, and nothing else. Behind her were 14 people bundled up like Eskimos, though I wasn't sure if the bulk was provided by their clothes or themselves. Each one was carrying a bulky bag or piece of equipment.
The most likely projected route had them going to the doc's place.
Following them proved easy, they didn't so much as glance in any direction but forward. The woman in front led the procession right into the doc's warehouse like a mother duck leading ducklings, through one of the larger doors. I moved to the door I'd come out of earlier, and eased it open as quietly as I could.
Which of course means it made enough noise to wake the dead.
the doc and his...assistant? were stopped in gestures that looked like they had been arguing, trapped gesticulating at each other like flies in amber. The Eskimos in my visual range were free of half their clothes, revealing silvered steel plated humanoid robots that were rather plain looking. The weapons they were pointing (high yield co-axial pulse lasers) stifled any thoughts of me insulting their lack of panache. I closed the door with my foot, and raised my hands.
"Um, hi? Doc can you call them off?"
"No need."
They all lowered their weapons a nano second later, acting for all the world as if I'd ceased to exist.
"Huh. Why did they stop?"
"They recognized your IFF as belonging to me, as they do."
Identification friend or foe, huh? that meant I had a chip broadcasting. Of course I had a chip broadcasting.
--Query location IFF transmitter--
A wire frame image of my body sprang to life in my mind's eye, showing it buried under where my stomach would be were I human.
Good to know I guess.
--Query unit and model number--
Without meaning to I had just pinged the identification of all robots within my visual range. The answers poured in, the
display made an odd kind of sense. My left and right eye displayed different units.
--Model number 400 unit number 42-- --Model number 400 unit number 49--
--Model number 400 unit number 58-- --Model number 400 unit number 83--
--Model number 400 unit number 59-- --Model number 400 unit number 64--
--Model number 400 unit number 62-- --Model number 400 unit number 74--
--Model number 400 unit number 63-- --Model number 400 unit number 85--
--Model number 400 unit number 67--
--Model number 950 unit Sara Merit--
The last was a surprise. the mama duck was a robot herself, a fairly sophisticated android. I took the opportunity to
approach.
"Doctor Langford, Unit Kaname just employed her IFF devices."
A bit closer, the facade of her sophistication began to crack a bit. Her skin looked a bit off, her movements stiff and her face and gestures tried to display emotion, but seemed to be aiming for the wrong ones. Unless anger was what she wanted?
"Indeed Sara, this does not surprise me."
"But, her response indicated surprise in knowing she had an IFF, yet she employed the device .35 seconds before an 800 series would be able to."
"That's because she is human where it counts Sara. How are the preparations?"
"The portable manufacturing devices are being reconstructed here as per orders, estimated time to completion 2 hours 37 minutes.
"good, now all I'll need are the materials."
I interrupted while staring at Sara as nonchalantly as possible. She didn't seem to mind.
"So whats going on?"
"These are the devices for constructing a male body for you. I only need some raw and processed materials to begin. Sara is my assistant at another lab, and these other units are muscle. Very old, but still usable and more importantly all I have available at the moment. My real lab is a country away, and I've been working on a shoe string budget."
"You don't have a human assistant? No offense Sara."
"No offense taken unit Kaname."
Doc looked a bit irritated for some reason...but he wasn't looking at me, so I let it go.
"I do, but she's busy at the moment gathering a few of those harder to find materials, as well as running down leads on who you are. Sara, 2 coffee's please."
"Yes Doctor Langford."
She moved away with decent speed to the kitchen.
"Sara is an amazing result of technology, few are better than her, but she has her limits."
I could think of several androids that were at least slightly better for some reason, but the spirit of what the doc said was correct. Most androids were easily discernible from humans, as were most cyborgs. most of either stripe were also downright stupid, either taking to long to process data (androids) or being those who regularly fail IQ tests (cyborgs).
The first because they lacked the processing power of humans, and the second because they lacked the common sense of humans. Except now, all unwilling, I had joined the latter group in spectacular fashion.
Sara came back with coffee, place a cup in front of each of us. the doc caught my surprise.
"Sara can't drink I'm afraid. she wasn't designed for it. Sara why don't you tidy the place up?"
"Of course doctor Langford."
I watched her go to the small closet tucked in the corner, and remove the cleaning supplies. I drank the brew and watched my
host.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
I smiled.
"On the house, was just thinking I remembered a bit of rescuing you a few days ago, or whenever it was."
"Four days ago. You saw the date on the paper."
"I did indeed, and it matches your chronometer. So when do you think you can finish the body for me?"
"Assuming all goes well, and there are no snags? Probably a few months. Realistically? Probably closer to three months. I'm sorry I can't really speed up the process."
Shaking my head cause my hair to slap me. That was annoying.
"Don't be, I wouldn't be alive if not for you. I can be patient. So how are you going to classify me to the government?"
To be legal, all androids, cyborgs, and super soldiers had to be registered with the US government upon creation or entry into the country; it allowed the bureaucracy to keep tabs on who was who. I had no idea how I knew that.
"I'm not. If you desire it, you can register yourself. I'd suggest as a partial conversion cyborg; a full conversion registration attempt will garner far too much attention for your liking, even if it succeeds."
"How so? Celebrity status?"
"And possible guinea pig status, ending in vivisection. Full conversion cyborgs are very sought after."
"I can see how that would be a problem. You'd end up in open war or kidnapped of course, your secrets stolen."
He nodded.
"But if I don't, I run the risk of getting caught in the country as an unlicensed cyborg, which might lead back to you anyway. And I would need to prove who I was, and I can't yet. So unless I get false paperwork, which would cause even more problems...."
He nodded again.
"Ugh, I hate walking around illegally!"
I sighed and relaxed back in the chair.
"I'm sorry."
I looked up to find him giving me a hangdog look, like a whipped puppy. I waved him off.
"Not your fault really, and better than the alternative."
"Sara?"
"Yes Doctor?"
"Acknowledge User Kaname Ningyo as assistant three, class 2 clearance."
"Acknowledged doctor."
I looked around to find Sara still cleaning away.
"What just happened?"
"Simple, to Sara and any other robots here, you're now an assistant of mine. They will follow all of your orders unless they conflict with mine or my other assistants."
"but why would..."
He interrupted softly.
"It might prove necessary. I went to much trouble to save you, I'll not see you troubled if I can avoid it. The life of a scientist can be hectic, so you might need the support. Like it or not, currently you are in an area of grey legality. Support of any kind should be considered a blessing."
I nodded, conceding the point.
"I'm hoping that doesn't last long."
He nodded regally in turn, conceding my point. His phone rang, interrupting whatever sage wisdom he'd opened his mouth for. He looked at the smartphone screen. I didn't recognize what type of phone it was.
"It's my assistant; if I might take this call privately?"
"sure thing, I'll just take my coffee over there."
I moved to the other side of the warehouse, watching the robots set up machines of various esoteric make. I couldn't make heads or tails out of any of the new ones either. The best I could do was recognize which were C.A.D. (computer assisted drafting)manufacturing machinery.
That told me a little bit at least.
Like they had before, the robots ignored me. I took note of what they were doing, in case I needed to construct or break down those same machines. After all, like the umbilical machine I plugged into every night, my life might depend on them.
"Alright all done, she was just calling to inform me that the DNA tests are underway. By this time tomorrow, if you're in the system anywhere, we will know."
"Really? Seems a bit fast."
He smiled.
"It is, but you're unhappy with not knowing right? I owe my savior all due diligence where I can. But now, I'd like you to do a favor for me. I'm going to be here setting this up, and I need cash. Could you go to a branch of first national and make a withdrawal for me? I'll give you all the information necessary."
Oh right, like me, he had been interrupted from his banking.
"Um, sure. But how will I get past the metal detectors? Pretty sure those will go off and I'll be arrested for being illegal?"
"Not at all. Just wear this,' He held up a rather bulky black jacket; 'and it will detect you as human. Then you simply hand the teller the envelope in the pocket. I have an account there, and that's a legal permission for you as my assistant to withdraw money from it. It also has my ID in it so they know you're working for me, and a few other odds and ends in legalese."
"So how much am I withdrawing?"
"1 million."
"A million?!?"
While I'd heard the super science business paid, I had no idea it paid that well. His tone implied that a million to him, was walking around money. Chump change.
"I'd have you get more, but it's really all you can safely carry without notice. Take the briefcase in the corner there. Ask Sara for some other clothes. I'm sure her clothes are too big for you, but you won't really have a prayer of blending in otherwise. No reason to give trigger happy police on alert from the attack a few days ago a cause to stop you, eh?"
Now that was a sentiment I agreed wholeheartedly with. I shrugged and went to see Sara. She was still cleaning, mopping the kitchen floor in this case. I didn't really see her making a dent in the grime on the old tile, but she gamely kept at it.
"Sara?"
"Yes assistant Kaname?" She didn't stop.
"I was told to borrow some clothes from you. Do you have a spare set?"
She paused a moment, stuttering a little...then started mopping again.
"I do, located in box 4, near the door. You can get them yourself of course?"
"I can, thank you. Do you mind which ones I borrow?"
"No I do not. They are all similar to my current clothing in any case."
I left her to her work and found the box with no trouble. Inside, packed neatly next to other odds and ends, were three sets of black pants and white blouses. They weren't jeans thank goodness (Sara was a good 5cm taller than I was, no way would jeans fit) and one pair even had a belt built in. I grabbed it, one of the blouses and walked into the doc's bedroom to change.
Yes, I know he's seen it all, but old habits die hard; I'm a pretty private person. Once I got the skirt of, I realized...I wasn't a barbie. I had what to all appearances was the appropriate plumbing down there.
--Sexual activity requires use of Geisha mode; enable Geisha mode? Y/N--
Oh HELL no. No no no no no. I heard the threads creak as I pulled the pants up, and eased the force down a bit changing shirts. Jacket, sneakers...as ready as I'll ever be. Grabbing the jacket and my 'clothes' (stupid costume) I presented myself before the doc.
"How do I look? Passable?"
"Passable." He agreed, giving me a twice over.
"So doc, I was changing and my head hinted that I had a 'Geisha mode'...exactly what might that be, hmm?"
My sickeningly sweet tone did nothing to put him at ease...if anything he paled, then paled further as my words sunk in.
"Your body is an all purpose model designed as a bodyguard. Of course it has one of those modes. At least mine has some class. You're designed for companionship, not simply sex. Besides, as I said before, it was the only body I had available. I didn't even have one of the 400's near me, and you were dying."
"Fair enough. I guess. Maybe I can even see how it works for the other side, assuming...?"
He picked up what I was saying readily enough.
"You'll feel everything in as real a manner as I can replicate; I am nothing if not a perfectionist. All my creations have as full a range of senses and sensation as my understanding allows."
I nodded and turned away, donning the jacket.
"We will see, for now it's time to get you your operating funds. Be back in a bit."
"Take your time if you want; enjoy yourself."
I closed the door with a wave.
(tbc)
I wasted not a moment in opening the envelope, which wasn't even sealed in any case. The first thing that met my gaze was a sheet of paper I found rather unbelievable. It was a power of attorney, made out to my new name. It looked perfectly legal. there was also a state ID made out in that name, from the state of Maryland. And a passport, listing my country of origin as Japan. A green card, signifying immigrant status.
All of it looked perfectly legal, but of course it couldn't be. He had to have had all this documentation made for the body in advance, and just now decided to get some use out of it. At least that was the only thing that made sense to me. Though why this body could need such false paperwork I didn't know. It looked good enough to satisfy a bank though.
Walking along whistling into the bitter wind seemed like the right thing to do. Other passersby bundled up as I was,
shambled along with nods and quick muttered words. The snow spit itself in random directions, wind being cut by the skyscrapers the further I moved in. the branch I was supposed to go to was a good hour away at normal walking speed. How I knew that, I didn't know... but I didn't let it bother me.
Acting like the cold affected me however - hunching over into the wind and reducing skin open to the weather - made perfect sense. I took note of all the cameras in my path, traffic ones mostly. However most businesses had cameras watching the streets as well. The quick moment of giddiness that almost had me waving to them passed, and each was noted on the three dimensional map I was unwillingly building with the help of the software in my head.
It was annoying really, but it might come in handy later. The walk was enjoyable, even in the bitter cold. It was enjoyable just being alive.
I was also happy to note that the doc hadn't sent a tail. I half expected a few of his 400's to be watching me. If they were however, I couldn't spot them. For some reason I was sure I would be able to. They didn't seem all that stealth oriented and I felt pretty confident in my ability to spot someone following me.
--Warning Unsafe core temperature imminent. Heating suggested. Heating unit on? Y/N--
Cursing I turned it on. I knew my body heat would be tested at the bank as part of the process to determine if I were human or not and didn't know if the coat would fake it. A rookie mistake. With the heater on however I felt the difference immediately. I would be warm enough to pass during a cold day with luck, it was trying to heat me up to normal human levels as fast as possible.
Exactly 22 minutes and 32 seconds later (plus or minus .02 seconds) I walked into the target branch of first national. The front doors were of course the location of the first scan, and it didn't go off. I nodded politely to the guards,unzipping the coat a little and taking my gloves and hat off. The guards waved some scanners that I didn't recognize over me, and just like that I was past the second hurdle.
The third hurdle was my identification, which was scanned while they checked to make sure my face matched. The documentation passed all the scans, which was a mild surprise. I knew they were high level forgeries, but I really expected a flag from the green card. After all those things had to be filed with ICS and the FBI anymore, something very hard to do with forgeries. My compliments to the doc's hacker pals, whoever they were.
And just like that I was through, and could freely walk to the tellers. The lines were of course small, and it was easy to be patient. I found myself somehow casing the bank, noting the various security measures in place. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, which seemed a bit odd to me. But then it had been several days after the last attempted heist. Maybe less than a week at high alert is normal?
"Excuse me miss, can I help you?"
--Language protocol 04 initiated--
"Yes please, I'm here to make a withdrawal. It is rather sizable."
I passed over the paperwork involved, noting as an afterthought that my accent had changed. I now had a faint Japanese accent. Well that's interesting. It wasn't enough for me to miss the teller pale a bit and strain her smile.
"Follow me please miss Ningyo."
I was led to a back office, the office of one 'Salvatore DeSilvio, branch manager'. He was up and near the door, we shook hands and I fought back a bow with a slight pasted on smile. The protocols were more than language it seemed, regardless of what the file marker said. The teller passed the documents to the manager and stood aside.
"Please have a seat miss Ningyo."
"Thank you Mr. DeSilvio. How are you this afternoon?"
"Well, if a bit chilled. Though I trust you are more so. Would you like some tea? I have a wonderful blend of Gyokuro in the back."
Gyokuro was a form of Japanese green tea. Wonderful and slightly expensive stuff.
"That would be wonderful, Thank you Mr. DeSilvio."
He turned to the teller with no hesitation.
"Tea for our guest please Mrs. Heller."
He turned back to me as he seated himself and picked up my papers.
"So what can I do for you miss Ningyo?"
"I need to make a rather sizable withdrawal Mr. Desilvio. hopefully that will not be a problem?"
"Not at all Miss Ningyo. I just need to verify things first. A million dollar withdrawal is a hefty sum, and we of course must be thorough."
"Of course. Please do continue."
I tuned him out a bit as he started. I was fairly sure that since I'd passed the security checks it was clear sailing from here. Less than 5 minutes later (I was inspecting the paintings in the office from my seat, They were obviously Bob Ross paintings, I swear.) Mrs. Heller returned with a tray of tea and served us both (customer first of course). Catching Mr. DeSilvio's gestured dismissal she left without a word.
I sipped the tea, and it was as amazing as I had expected.
"Miss Ningyo?"
"Yes Mr. DeSilvio?"
"This all checks out. I'll be back in just a moment."
"Alright. One question though please."
He stopped and turned back, with perhaps more poker face than the occasion warranted. Odd.
"Those paintings Mr. DeSilvio... are they Bob Ross paintings?"
His grin threatened to break the porcelain mask he'd been wearing.
"Why yes Miss Ningyo, they are. I'll be right back."
He almost skipped down the hall, and I could have sworn I heard him humming. Very weird.
I stared at happy little trees until he returned 12 minutes and 41 seconds later. He held a black unmarked briefcase and closed the door behind him. I followed him to his desk where he opened the case to reveal neat stacks of 100 dollar bills. I took one stack out and fanned it, my new body making counting it that way easy. I could just take Mr. DeSilvio's word for it, but I decided not to, and checked each stack.
The amount was correct, and without a word the paperwork was sent across the desk and just as silently I signed it all, my penmanship looking surprisingly good... for some reason I expected a chicken scratch. I closed the case and looked up at him.
"The case is on the house Miss Ningyo. Please do enjoy your day."
I couldn't resist, and finished my tea before bowing.
"Thank you Mr. DeSilvio. Have a wonderful afternoon."
A guard shadowed me to the door, trying to be discrete about it. I had no more anxiety about the checks (they were designed to keep people out) and just that simply I was on the street.
It seemed a bit too easy. I don't know why I felt that way, but I did. Perhaps the bank was used to such odd requests? The withdrawal slip I'd signed said that the doc had a few hundred million deposited with that bank, so maybe there was a certain amount of cache that came with that.
I know if someone handed me 221 million to invest any way I saw fit, I'd bend over backwards to accommodate requests. Of course this also meant that I now had access to such a stash. The doc was being pretty trusting. Not that I would betray that trust.
I decided that even with this amount of money in my hands I'd not take a direct route back to the warehouse; something in me seemed to scream protests at the idea. It wasn't any programming as far as I could tell, which meant it had to be from my former life. I still had very little to go on there, but it was obvious I did more than just bag groceries or crunch numbers.
I set my sights on a dog park I knew of figuring I could skirt around it and see what was going on, as it was extremely unlikely anyone would be using it today. That would make being paranoid easy. Of course, there HAD been an attempted bank robbery. It had been foiled, but with the perpetrators still at large, a small Asian woman with a briefcase walking out of a bank could be seen as a perfect target of opportunity.
I spotted nothing out of the ordinary though. The few die hards in the park itself made me frown. Despite how cheerful the dogs looked I felt sorry for them. As for their owners, well the owners should know better. I turned away from the place with my mood going south, confidence surging.
--Query data retrieval?--
--Data retrieval 67%--
I wasn't sure, but that seemed like a good number.
--Query battery status?--
--Battery charge 71%--
That seemed even better, considering the amount of activity I had undergone so far. It would easily last me until the end of the day.
I was still a bit paranoid, but it seemed that not even the gangs or other thugs were out today. Not that I blamed them. A rather long moderately boring walk later and I was back at the warehouse. I knocked first this time, then entered. Save for the doc, I was ignored.
"Here you are doc. It went smoothly. Your pocket change."
He waved absently, making some small adjustment on what looked like steel leg bones. He had one leg framework built to the knee and parts spread before him on the workbench. It looked like a radio shack threw up, to be honest.
"Hard at work here, as you can see. Just put it on the table there. Do they still serve that wonderful coffee to their VIP's?"
"Couldn't say, they served me a green tea imported from Japan. It was very tasty."
"Hmm, interesting. I'll have to ask for some next time I go in person."
I sidled up to watch.
"Need any help?"
"Well, while you have the necessary dexterity, you don't have the necessary knowledge, so as much as I'd like to accept I'll
have to decline. If you need something to do Sara brought a laptop with several of my favorite movies loaded. Or you could read my files on said laptop to bring yourself up to speed on how I construct my robotic friends."
"Sounds like a plan, think I'll try and do both. What kind of movies do you have on it?"
"Mostly cloak and dagger things, or scientific thrillers."
Hmm, weird, I liked those kinds of movies too. Though something in me suggested that I liked to laugh at them....
"That will do, thanks doc. I'll try to get up to speed."
Sure I know he wanted me out of the way, but I wanted at least some idea of what he was doing and why. So as not to disturb the doc or his crew, I smuggled the laptop into the kitchen and fired it up. For some reason I picked the Bourne Identity. Sara was in the kitchen making dinner for the doc, but she didn't even glance my way. Not that I minded, she was a bit creepy.
It didn't take long for the snickering to start. Who knew this movie was a comedy? Cold war era bullcrap, fluffed with absurd fight choreography. Very few real elements, and far fewer screw-ups than in real life. Again, it was scary that I felt that way but I had nothing to back it, so I didn't let it worry me. By this time tomorrow I would know all the answers to my questions.
'Taken' was much better in this respect, though still a bit much.
**********************************************************************************************
Amazing, she could debate teas. I watched her acting on the bank's closed circuit security system, and she looked so
natural. From the slight pauses in bowing before shaking hands to the speech, she was perfect. I took the money out and tore
the briefcase apart. there did not seem to be a tracking device of any kind in the pockets or lining, no strange power sources in the bill stacks themselves.
I threw the money into a large paper bag and deleted the stolen security feed, terminating the internet connection before I could possibly be traced. Even now she was laughing at a movie, glee apparent in her face and movements. How had I done this? There was no way the procedure should have worked this well.
Ahh well, no time to worry about that. Ekaterina would be here tomorrow demanding her payment, and he had it. He could still salvage the situation. Time enough to settle the enigma later, I hoped. I wasn't sure my latest patron would be as
understanding as I hoped.
"Sara."
"Yes Doctor Langford?"
"Is dinner ready?"
"Yes doctor."
"Then let it sit and come help me please."
Sara started building the bone structure for the other leg. With her help it would still be several days of half sleep before the structure would be complete. After that came the hard part.
(tbc)
--Interface ports disengaged.--
--Exiting sleep mode.--
--Battery charge 100%--
I woke up on the bench, something that was both disturbing and already routine. At the end I chickened out rather than let my battery get to dangerous levels, and plugged myself in. Going to sleep was easy. Waking up however, let me know in no uncertain terms that something had changed.
--Data retrieval 100%--
I knew everything; or at least everything I would ever know about who I was and what I had been.
--Query internal chronometer--
--Time 05:34AM CST--
--Nightvision activated--
The warehouse was dark, the machines silent. The robots were either in sleep mode themselves or silently on guard. It made me wonder what the doc was afraid of; while my newfound memories pointed to the world of super science being a very cut throat place, this level of paranoia seemed extreme. But the doc was asleep, and while certain things were falling into place, it
could wait.
I was interested in feet.
Two small skeletal feet to be precise, their framework rendered in titanium or some variant, and perfectly articulated; they looked like a skeleton had been dipped in metal. Of course my own point of view was of the layman; I was quite sure that human foot bones weren't put together in quite that way, but it was very close. One was finished, one only half so. Extrapolating the time used to construct the feet and estimating from there, the framework of the male me would take at least a week of hard 14 hour shifts.
But... the feet looked a little small for a guy; add some flesh and circuitry to the frame and they might be a size 6. which was the size of my current feet. Curiouser and curiouser. Reminding myself I was lucky to be alive at all, I made some coffee and settled in to watch the sun rise. It could just be that due to expenses, I was going to be a very small guy soon.
Time for something to drink. I didn't need it of course, but it was a pleasure I wouldn't deny myself. I made coffee, taking note of how much the doc used to make his and following suit. I drank and studied schematics until, precisely at 5:45AM, Sara exited sleep mode.
"Good morning Sara."
"Good morning unit Kaname."
She bustled off into the kitchen without so much as a pause, no doubt to cook the good doctor breakfast. I shook my head; so close and yet so far. I almost offered to help - but I was busy reading the doc's files. Apparently I was at least an adequate hacker, not that I needed to be.
Who uses a password like 12345 anyway? That's the kind of password an idiot would have on their luggage, or something.
Maybe he thought it was safer cause everyone nowadays would go straight to the more complex cracking methods, without checking first. Or maybe he meant for me to get in. Either way it was all the same. The doc was a busy guy, it seemed. Several of these model designs were ones that I recognized as russian, and a few were chinese exclusives. Confirmation of sorts, of what my
memories were telling me.
Fate is a very fickle witch sometimes; she always likes to pick you up... then cut your legs out from under you.
In this case the leg sweeping started with flash bangs; the standard kind that police SWAT use for high risk entries. I lost track after bang number 6, and was already on the floor before I knew it. Around me I could hear aged robots grinding to life, then gunshots and they would fall silent. Sara was still moving around, but I had the sudden sense that she was alone.
"Doctor Thadeus Langford! This is the police! Come out with your hands up! Your bots have been disabled, and you are surrounded!"
A dizzy, disheveled looking doctor came staggered into view, his face a mask of pure horror.
"Kaname? Kaname!?!"
Interesting, hardly the reaction I'd think of, now that I remembered the reputation of the doc... though oddly in keeping with the man I've known the last couple of days.
"I'm here doc, keeping my head down."
He really needed to work on his expressions; as it was he'd never be able to play poker. Maybe it was the lack of stimulants.
"Come on out Langford, my bots have even the sewer and hidden tunnels covered. You can't escape."
It may have been just the megaphone, but that voice was weaker, reedy, and seemed filled with an unsufferable arrogance that put me on edge. It also seemed vaguely familiar.
"Dr Adlevo; that bastard."
Now there was a name I knew. But I'd worry about that later; I had to confirm some things while I could.
"So doc, the bank robbery was you?"
He nodded.
"And the bot that attacked you?"
Bots are not supposed to attack just anyone with the intent to kill; the fact that one did was a major breach of law; somehow and somewhere things were rotten. That corruption had cost me a body and a normal life.
"Dr. Adlevo's. This isn't really the time and place to explain, but he has had it in for me for a long time. You simply got in the way of his latest attempt. Now I really need to surrender before the building is blown up or something; if you'll excuse me. Don't get up or it's likely you'll be shot."
And with that he simply walked out of my sight. I heard the front door open, the wup wup wup sound of multiple helicopters hovering, and the the yells of many men. Then hurried, running footsteps.
"And there it is, being a good little girl like Langford said. Get up Kaname."
That last bit was clearly enunciated, as if I were a child. How insulting. I complied however; they did after all, have the guns.
"Well at least you didn't shoot the doc. So, what am I being charged with?"
The looks of flabbergasted surprise were priceless. Especially the one from the guy on the right; I recognized him as one of the guys working security at the bank yesterday. He had waved me on through without a second look. I was surprised to see him too, but I didn't let it show.
"Wow, she's a real piece of art, isnt she?"
"You're being charged with aiding and abeding a fugitive for a start, honey. That and we're impounding you as a device that could prove harmful to the public at large."
"You can't impound me, I'm an american citizen. As for aiding and abeding, well, you might have enough to make that stick. You need to cuff me? I'll go quietly, but I'm not sure about your procedure here."
"We need to cuff you, yes. Never can tell."
I held my hands behind my back, shook my head and tsk'd.
"Should have done it while I was still on the ground; faulty police procedure."
"Perfectionist."
The manacles they locked on to me did something... I couldn't move nearly as easily, even my legs. Everything seemed to be much heavier. Didn't affect my speech, however.
"Wow, these things suck. You'll all have to be patient, I'm going to be pretty slow here."
"No problem at all, take your time and walk to the APC over there. We seem to be short paddywagons for the gifted this morning, so you ride with us."
"So where are you taking me?"
"Told you before. The impound. The FBI and homeland security impound, where all the bad bots seized are kept."
Hmm, homeland security. This could work out yet.
"Alright, will you do me a favor?"
Odd, I'd have expected him to be more cautious.
"What do you have in mind?"
"Marc Perez works out of this field office, doesn't he?"
"Maybe."
"Well if he does, could you call him for me please, and tell him to meet us at the impound?"
"Sure I can do that. I think he'd probably be interested in you anyway."
Don't I know it. A cyborg looking like this? He'd be all over it.
I resolved to be as silent as possible for the rest of the ride; I didn't want to unwittingly hang myself volunteering information. This suited the SWAT guys just fine, I could tell. The manacles had to be electromagnetic in some way; but without seeing them I couldn't tell how they worked.
Rather shortsighted of the doc to build a state of the art body with such a weakness.
The officer in charge (who wasn't the chatty one) led me to what appeared to be a standard interrogation room; I wasn't fooled. There was no one way mirror and the walls had that subtle look that screamed 'I'm all solid steel under this cheap drywall'. That and the solid steel door with a bar lock made it obvious. There was a reinforced set of chairs and a table bolted to the floor; I took the one facing the door but farthest from it as the officer locked the door behind me.
Now we played the waiting game.
************************************************
Striding into the room, they all stopped talking. the silence was deafening. Honestly, you'd think grown men and women would outgrow acting like adolescents at a bar.
"What do we have?"
Chris Farnsworth, the lead on the SWAT team, answered smartly.
"Got Langford and the damnedest robot you ever saw. Take a look."
I looked at the video feed he directed me at. In it was a petite looking ebon haired japanese girl, appearing to be around student age.
I looked back at him, nonplussed.
"It's a sexbot. We see plenty of those, what's so unusual about one more?"
I swear, if I had a nickel for every sexbot we dismantled...
"No Marc, it's not just a sexbot. Look close; That chassis is one of Langfords' series 8s."
"What?!? No way."
I took that second look. Hard to tell with it sitting down but...
"It's too small for that. And way too lifelike. Has to be one of his newer models, at least an 11."
"You think that, but it pings back as an 8. Plus, this one knows you. Why do you think I called you in? That hot little thing asked for you by name. The time stamp places her creation at just after the attempted bank robbery."
I looked down at my hands, which were throttling my broken pen.
"Is that so? And what has Langford said?"
"Oh that is the truly interesting part; he hasn't shut up since we bagged him. He's very talkative, and the polygraph suggests he's being totally honest. And that is why you absolutely must hear his story... all of it. You see, I asked him the same thing you were just thinking about asking me."
He led me next door, into the first interrogation room, where Thadeus Hastur Langford was cooling his unshod heels.
Thadeus Hastur Langford was born an american, of new england stock. Maine, I think. He was one of the most gifted of the gifted... and one of the biggest criminals the U.S. had ever produced. In his late 40's, he worked as a young teen with our foremost brain, Dr. Silas Adlevo, building super soldier serums, weapons, and other tools of modern death. Along with the
occasional advance in medicine and oddly enough, space exploration.
Why he turned on us was one of the bigger riddles of our time; The current word was that he was jealous and angry with playing second fiddle to Adlevo. So he defected, and went to work for Russia and later China; giving communist robotics a huge boost and later filling orders for a variety of other countries, corporations, and even the very rich. The office of Gifted Affairs called him 'The merc'.
The word had filtered down from the CIA that he was again in country after 25 years away. Since he was under indictment as a traitor; with a standing warrant for his arrest, his presence in country didn't make much sense. Russia was his new home, and they watched over him jealously there. For him to be here instead of his usual haunts in Russia, China, and even the middle east meant something big. To pull a bank job, as he had tried just less than a week ago, seemed to suggest he was hurting for funding.
Luckily, with Adlevo on the case with us (The man was pushing 75, and still vigorous) staking out the banks was easily done, and while Langford had gotten away, it had eventually led to his capture. Such arrogance, to think he could get away with such crimes while we were watching. Of course the bank sting was supposed to go quietly, and rapidly devolved into a mess; we still weren't sure why, but I had a few suspicions.
So finally, we caught him, despite some sizable murphy's law action... and he was chatty. I strode right in, polygraph be damned. Things didn't work anyway, not as a lie detector. I was quite sure Langford's stress was not important. He looked up with relief and jumped right in.
"Good good, you're here. Gifted affairs or Homeland security?"
"Marc Perez, homeland security Dr. Langford. So what brought you to the states?"
his eyes caught me. Guileless, full of concern and a plea.
"Rest assured I'll tell you everything, but before that, have you seen Kaname?"
I took a shot in the dark.
"Your robot? The modified series 8 you recently activated?"
He nodded quickly.
"I haven't seen it yet, I was hoping to talk to you first."
"And are you going to be the one in charge of this case? Sole jurisdiction, no alphabet soup behind you?"
"Yep, I'm it."
"Good; whatever you do, don't tell Kaname she is an android. You'll ruin the experiment. All of you must be very careful - she believes she is a cyborg with a human brain."
I was at a loss.
"And just exactly why in the hell would that matter?"
"Because she might well be a person; she acts so life like because I mapped a human's brain, translated it, and downloaded it into her hard drive."
I found myself running my hands through my thinning hair, a nervous gesture of mine. Langford could have been describing the weather. All of a sudden a few puzzle pieces clicked into place; the person who had been missing in that botched robbery, and why I'd been asked for by name.
"what...the hell, doctor! You will burn for this, I'll see to it!"
I let him go, only after the polygraph operator pulled me off did I realize I'd been choking the life from him.
"I didn't kill him! I didn't!"
He choked out, finally seeming to understand what I thought he'd done. He found his voice and shouted.
"All I did was try to save his life, but he was too far gone! Too far gone for any amount of modern medicine! Even if he'd survived he'd had to have been made a full conversion borg, and his brain was dying! His lungs were charcoal! No one deserved that fate, to die drowning in blood!"
I let him rant till he quieted, and almost didn't catch the whisper.
" ....and he saved my life."
I sat down, realizing my friend would have done exactly that; jumped in without regard to himself. How many times had he done that in the past? I turned to the operator.
"Out. You and the peanut gallery can record, but you will promptly forget you heard or saw anything, unless I say otherwise. No one sees Kaname before I do. Got it?"
He nodded. He knew my reputation; all thier jobs were now on the line.
"Alright Doctor, start at the beginning and tell me everything."
(tbc)
The tale:
I absorbed everything without moving my head; as a veteran of such endeavors, I knew that appearances were important. Rubbernecking like a tourist inside a bank was a sure way to get singled out. I shouldn't even be taking a risk like this; as a wanted criminal in America here on a fake visa, committing what would surely be a high profile bank robbery was tantamount to
closing a cell door on myself.
But Ekaterina wanted her money NOW, and my accounts had been found (I knew it could only be Adlevo, curse that man to hell!) and frozen. Until I could set up another account I was broke.
I dare anyone to try telling a former Russian agent and current mercenary that one does not have the funds to pay them after commissioning them for a job. What if she asked for the return of the CPU she'd stolen? I couldn't hand it back, I had dismantled it in order to learn about the technical advances that had so intrigued me when I'd read about them in 'popular mechanics'. To think that normal, non gifted humans could come up with such a novel approach to processor manufacture?
Layering a multi-core processor of all things! I had simply had to know how it had been done!
I was paying for that decision now, in a most literal sense. Security had taken one look at my 'Theo Pasteur' persona and waved me right through, thankfully. My robots were in position, and none seemed the wiser. The only worrying trifle was that the banks' security 'bots were Adlevo AC12's. Not his state of the art, at all... but possibly more than a bank should have?
Last I knew the 12's were still used by the American military as border patrol and national guard backup. They haven't been frontline units since the 16's were put into production, and that was years ago. So just maybe, my information was old?
It was too late to back out now in any case, I'd already entered the bank. If I tried to leave now without doing anything I'd be stopped and questioned, at the very least. Time to take a chance. My series 7's versus Adlevo's combat series 12's would never work. When my time in front of the teller came improvisation would be key. I grabbed a deposit slip and wrote on it while the line shortened.
"Good afternoon sir."
I read the name tag of the bright almost criminally perky blonde behind the bulletproof and laser resistant glass.
"Good afternoon Rebecca. How are you this fine, if cold, day?"
I put my (scribbled so badly a doctor or pharmacist wouldn't be able to read it) deposit slip through the small slit designed for the purpose, and then fumbled most convincingly with my pockets - I was sure to try to add a touch of shock, and she seemed to buy it.
"I'm sorry Rebecca, I came here to deposit a check but I seem to have left it in my car. I'll just get out of the way, go get it, and see you again before you have a chance to miss me! Be right back."
She flashed me another smile, her teeth serving as perfect mirrors reflecting the light. She could smile up a runway so well planes could no doubt land. Too much tooth brightener perhaps?
"Excuse me sir."
Uh oh. No nonsense tone, and I'm very close to the door. That can only mean one thing. Security. I turned into the face of a police officer no less, in full uniform and tactical gear; now where had he come from? He was followed by his squad, marching out of one of the back offices. Damn, somehow the authorities had known I was coming.
"Please come with us sir."
I knew playing for time likely wouldn't work, but it never hurts to try.
"Did I do something wrong officer?"
I rotated my wrist in a predetermined manner; the code red circuit broke. My loyal troops came up through the oft overlooked floor, as planned, spouting the code phrase and firing their ion cannon into the ceiling.
"Do not resist, puny humans!"
Good the message was recieved; they would do no lasting harm to anyone, and just cover my escape. As everyone else turned to deal with the 'threat', I managed to evade the policeman's clumsy grab and make it out the door. then the firing began in earnest. My bots didn't have machine guns... but the adlevo's did. So he was playing for keeps; I wouldn't have much time.
All that loss of life was unnecessary.
I hit 1 on my phone, the signal of course, for immediate cover and evacuation. Smart phones were such a wonderful invention; you could do so much with them. The first signal for such went out with my circuit of course, but it never hurt to have an alternate plan. Unfortunately I wasn't the only one to have such.
The last thing I expected was an Adlevo AC15. Most definately military, a special forces model, looking nearer to human than my own could. Excepting of course, the built in forearm plasma cannons. It sickened me. It raised it's arms, sighting the cannons, and I could read the serial number with crystal clarity. Most cliche, but time seemed to slow.
I beat it to the draw, uncovering the port of the small taser I'd built into my winter coat, and fired. It dropped and I didn't waste time; Adlevo was really serious about killing me this time. An idle thought about what I might have done to finally push him over the edge almost made me miss the scraping sounds behind me.
The damn thing had just taken a jolt that even my own best models were not rated for. Next time I'd have to employ something else. If there was a next time. I turned, backpedalling. The taser was a one shot deal, but just maybe....
Ha, I was right; several actuators were damaged; it was limping and could not raise it's weapon arms. With just a little distance I could....
It fired as I turned to run, a near miss which sent me flying. I was pretty sure pieces of sidewalk grazed my head and leg, because when sense returned, both were bleeding. Had that been a mini missile? Surely not, not even Adlevo would dare to arm those in the middle of a city! but plasma weapons melted, not exploded....
I blinked as a piece of rubble bounced off the head of the machine, and it wobbled.
"That's right, eat concrete!"
A man older than myself (perhaps mid 50's), balding and ruddy faced stood in a classic pitcher's pose. He was fit, scarred, and seemed angry. The android turned to regard him, it's head angled akwardly. Give a choice of targets, but with the safeties regarding human life disabled in at least one case (mine). Hmm, this will not end well.
"You shouldn't have done that sir, and you should run now. This android's CPU is damaged; it will kill with no hesitation."
It was even then trying to lift it's arm to shoot me; I staggered to my feet. Another pice of sidewalk bounced off the android's head.
"Yep, sure looks like it. But it looks like it's trying to decide between us, and it can't move it's arm up very far; can you walk?"
"No sir, but I might be able to shamble or failing that, crawl very quickly. You should leave now, before it decides which one of us it wants."
I knew who it wanted; it wanted me. It had orders to kill me, I was certain. However in it's damaged state, with a 'threat' putting up resistance.... Well, I wouldn't give odds on who it decided to fire on first under these circumstances. It turned to me once again, and I shambled a bit before dizziness took it's toll and I fell.
Then our luck ran out. A third piece of aerial concrete hit the machines' arm... and unfroze the shoulder actuator. It raised the weapon to fire; I could see the inside of the barrel cowling.
And the gentleman pitcher appeared behind it, pinning it's arms to it's sides in a bear hug.
"Get up and run!"
Shocked I could only watch as the android, CPU failing, did the one thing garaunteed to remove it's attacker. It touched off it's plasma weapon at both their feet.
What was left was not pretty. In fact I hope never to see such horror again. But just in the nick of time were my secondary escorts; I kicked aside the remains of the AC15.
"Lift him."
"Lift him sir? Who do you mean?"
I winced. Human recognition software wasn't designed for this event. I pointed at the wheezing burbling mess, still somehow clinging to life.
"Lift that gently; you lift me, and let's make your best speed to the safehouse."
*****************************************************
"And now you know everything Mr. Perez. I only knew who he was after the process; quite ironic the turns of fate. I did not expect the process to work at all; but that amount of will.... That pure desire to live needed a response, you know? The only thing I could think to do was to map the brain while it lived, get as much of the information as I could, and simulate it as
best as I was able."
"But how do you even go about doing something like that?"
"Well it's been something I was working on, taking maps of the thought processes of the human brain to allow various androids to act more human; if you can get the area where motor responses and other such troubling areas are dealt with mapped properly you can translate the data into something a processor emulate, if not fully understand. The final piece of the puzzle in fact was why I came to America in the first place and...."
"Nevermind Doctor Langford, I don't really care all that much. The final step was the processor theft from intel?"
He hunched over, withdrawing.
"I will neither confirm nor deny those scandalous accusations."
"So how much of him is in her?"
"I don't know. But she already shows emotion and acts perfectly passable. She has memories of her past; I'm not certain how much but having anything at all is stunning. The mapping process succeeded beyond my wildest expectations. Past results were not as promising."
I'm certain the temperature in the room raised several degrees.
"You've done this before?"
"What? no, not like this! I wasn't ready for human trials. The events at the bank forced my hand. Otherwise I'd have had...."
"What doctor? I didn't quite hear you."
"I said, otherwise I'd have had a different body ready. That body is obviously not designed for a man."
I understood. In his own way, he'd done what he could. Not without an eye towards scientific gain, but with at least one eye on trying to return the favor he owed a dying man. A rush job, crazy technology, and insane results. Pretty typical gifted fare.
"But back to my earlier point; you cannot tell her that she isn't a cyborg. If you do tell her without determining how she will react, you run the risk of completely ruining the experiment."
The room was getting hot again. I'd have to speak about someone soon, the temperature control seemed to be on the fritz.
"And why would I care about that?"
"How would you likely react to being told you were not human? That in effect you were a soulless doll with no rights?"
A good question, and not as rhetorical as I'd like to believe.
"I...don't know. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like the idea."
Or the treatment I'd likely receive from my own government, or the random private corporate entities who would pick over my carcass in the aftermath. He saw that I got it.
"Exactly! It would ruin...the experiment. She and all others must believe that she is just a well crafted cyborg."
I must be crazy for even thinking about going along with this, but.... I could see it. He honestly cared. This insane liar and thief who was facing a death penalty for murder and aggravated assault by unmanned vehicle, along with betrayal of the United States of America...had not once talked about himself, or cutting a deal. Only his unique creation... who may or may not be my friend.
Or at the very least, might be some of my friend. A new unique individual, who might need help. I sighed thinking of the amount of favors I'd need to call in. Well no time like the present to get it started... time to see the VIP in all this.
"Alright Doctor, I get it. Say no more to anyone else, I need to go interview a cyborg."
He nodded gratefully as I left, relief flooding him. Once the door was shut I reiterated:
"You know nothing, or it's a posting in the antartic for you. Just one person dooms all of you. Provided you all stay mute, you all get the promotion of working with me on a special project. Even the stress tester."
I pinned them in place with my gaze till they all nodded, then left. Next stop was the end of the hall.
"Hello, Joe. What do you know?"
She looked up and smiled; it wasn't his smile, yet somehow it was. A nice beaming smile that lit up the face that wore it, without a hint of self-consciousness or hesitation.
"Hey Marc, how's things in Atlantis?"
So, she did know things; at least Langford wasn't lying to me. I smiled at the old joke we'd coined. Atlantis being a land that never really existed, full of high tech wonders and human harmony, was perfect for our department. It also didn't exist and was supposedly filled with the same kind of harmony - which was to say none. I mock frowned.
"It has it's good days. This isn't one of them. How about you tell me all about why I had to get called out of bed so early?"
Her demeaner switched to bashful almost before I could blink. Almost too damn cute, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The Joe I knew couldn't have pulled bashful off.
"Well I kinda screwed up."
I snorted.
"Do tell."
"I was walking along, minding my own business, when a bleeding guy fell in front of me. A robot, damaged somehow, was aiming at him. I had forgotten my gun, but decided to intervene anyway when the robot fired - it was cutting loose with a plasma weapon. In a public place, in the late afternoon. It was some military model in military mode. I haven't been keeping up, so
I can't tell you what kind it was."
"How do you know it was a robot?"
She rolled her eyes at me, like an exasperated teenager. Odd as the thought was, I could see Joe doing that.
"It didn't respond to verbal hails, or taunts. It also capped off with no regard to bystander safety."
So far so good, this was all information gathered earlier from witnesses.
"Go on."
"Well, I couldn't tell it was set to kill until after I'd already bounced a rock off it's head. Of course it was too late to back off then, I was a target. Then it turned to the guy again, which made me realize... Marc, whoever programmed that bot sent it to assasinate the doc. It had a few chances to get rid of me, even had me pegged as a threat, but it always went straight
for him. whatever they tell you, it was intentional."
Honesty, with earnest entreaty; she was trying to convert me, to get me to believe something.
"You recognized Langford of course?"
"I did after I realized the bot was targeting him on purpose. Who's were they? Can you tell me?"
Puzzlement.
"They were Adlevo's."
Shock; pure and undiluted. In no way faked.
"but... that makes no sense at all; Adlevo is ours, and Langford is a bottom feeder. He would have no reason to call a hit on him unless...."
"Yes, unless there was something between them he wanted to hide. I already think I know what it is, that part of this mess will be easy enough to solve. But sheesh, you..."
I sighed heavily and she looked sheepish; each emotion she showed me was something a human would under the same circumstances; it was almost what Joe would have showed.
"I can keep you out of jail by explaining you were a hostage of sorts; you'll likely end up back at your old job. Langford however, is going to jail. No way around that. If we both work really hard, we may see that he only gets life."
Resignation and determination.
"Well it has to be done Marc; I need him, hes the only one that can fix me if I break. This body is too heavily modified to be left in the care of just anyone. At least anyone who can't manage a brain transplant surgery on the fly. Besides, he and I have a deal of sorts."
"He told me; for now you might as well get used to the new you. The trial alone will take months."
"I'll see what I can do about that, I still have a few favors I can call in. But for now, I'm going to need you to get me the chair."
"The chair?"
(tbc)
The chamber was far from a dank hole with bad lightning and amazing ambiance. Instead it was one of the new kinds of Gifted strip malls, a complex buried a mile or more under a mountain in Virginia. It resembled an old wagon wheel dug into the earth, a government central core surrounded by individual labs with spoke hallways leading to them. One way out, which of course could be sealed in case of an emergency.
It reminded me of the kind of crap you see in the newer movies, the movie of the week kind. All fluorescent track lighting
and shades of white. I'd have preferred the crumbling old castle or dilapidated mansion of yesteryear, personally. Of course
my movie had become a bad movie plot anyway, so it fit after a fashion.
And of course this was the only place my loving government would, after a day of arguing thinly veiled as 'discussion',
would set up the chair.
The chair was literally a chair, but it was also the only diagnostic tool/power outlet I was capable of interfacing. Or the only one I knew I was capable of interfacing. Any attempt to use something else was most likely doomed to failure, which is why I had my best friend install it in the first place... otherwise the government would have it sitting in a warehouse gathering dust while I ran out of power and died.
Then I'd be in the warehouse, crated up gathering dust while my brain leaked out of this shell's ears. But I didn't need
to be a cynic, I had a bit of pull within the current administration. So instead of needing to worry how I was going to convert to household voltage, I got the chair, the computers it hooked up to, and even two gifted assistants to cater to my every whim... while they tried to figure out what made me tick. (Sometimes, I did tick; I could hear it, it was very
distracting!)
Before I could track down the source of the rogue ticking sound, assistant number one looked up from where he was double-
checking the welded connections to the chair, once more placed rather conspicuously in the center of a large chamber.
"Oh, hi there, I'm Herb, pleased to meet you."
A distracted wave in our general direction and he was back at work, mask down and welding a spot here, a spot there. That
was the cue the other gifted (a rather shy woman tending the computer screens hooked up to the chair, watching the feeds)
was looking for.
"Hi, my name is Laura, we're the team assigned to this rather fascinating project." She was directing her statements at Marc;
I wasn't sure what the project was, as far as I knew we just got one of the spokes in the complex wheel for my maintenance. I
also didn't like being ignored.
"Hi, I'm Kaname." I replied a trifle loudly, causing her to blink. She recovered quickly though.
"Hi, I'm Laura. The chair is almost set up. How is your battery status?"
-Query battery status-
--Battery 58%--
"Still green. Barely. So if you don't mind me asking, what is your prior experience in cyborg maintenance?"
"Well Herb and I both worked on the Fujin project, and maintained him after he went live. I acted as his operator, and Herb
was his main technician. So you can see, we are eminently qualified to work on... cyborgs."
Odd hesitation there, and it drew a stern look from Marc. Must be some hush-hush thing.
"And what happened to this 'Fujin'?"
"Oh, he retired, did his full service so we pulled the combat implants and gave him the standard prosthetics; he's a civilian
now."
Herb broke in, still wielding.
"He was a whiny gint, is what he was, always trying to whine about how stupid wars are while in one. It was getting on my last
nerve. I almost made him some hello kitty themed parts for kicks. Let him see how angsty he could be when wearing bright yellow cat arms and legs or some such."
...
....
.....
"If you ever do that to me, you'd better hope you kill me first."
I don't care how bad he was, no one should treat vets that way. Besides, he couldn't have been that bad, could he? He looked up briefly.
"Nah, I wouldn't. I'm familiar with your reputation. Besides, you look more like an Asian barbie anyway."
Asian... barbie?
"Well now I know why you're here at least. Sidelined to side projects due to a massive lack of tact. And you Laura?"
Herb replied for her.
"Well there were a few rumors that she slept her way to the top."
"Herb! That's an outrageous slander!"
"I didn't say it was true, just that the rumor was floated. She transferred in with her old college prof, then didn't transfer out
with him. Then she got stuck on the Fujin project with me. The rumor mill went crazy."
Laura slapped him on the shoulder; he didn't seem to notice or care.
Ahh well, I couldn't look the gift horse in the mouth as it were; I was lucky Marc and I had this much pull, since officially I
was retired. I just knew a bill would come due for all this though, and I doubted my old analyst job title would stick. A 'consultant' position was more likely. I'd draw the line at assassinations though, blackmailing be damned.
Marc made a rather forced subject change.
"Anyway, this is your new office. Don't forget that tag of course, you know how it works.Remember where it is; the apartment I managed to get for you is up topside and across the street. Many of the people working here and a few other places around. No, I'm not one of them, but I live in a similar place closer to mid town.
He clipped a name and security tag to my new suit jacket (bought for me last minute by Marc as my own clothes were trashed, it had a skirt... I didn't much care for it, but it wasn't like I would get cold.)
"Yeah I know how it works, without the tag I don't get in, then the cavalry gets called and runs around like chickens without heads. So, government facilities then? Why, increased security?"
"Increased discrete security. Your building actually has a senator's suite and a few state reps live there as well. The mayor is in mine. Wouldn't do to have government assets liquidated if we could have done something."
I knew better; but he was at least trying. Most people were given the choice to accept something like that in the United States. So while I was sure protecting me was a part of the equation, keeping an eye on me to make sure I wouldn't go crazy and murder random people while running around in the nude was probably an equal part. Or whatever paranoid bullcrap they had me doing in their scenario of the week.
Though it was odd that they would house me with the senator; potential threats aren't normally given easy access to targets of opportunity. So maybe they were working or more worried about the psychological angle. I'd have to wait and see if I had an escort. Marc handed me a debit card.
"That's your card, use it to buy whatever crap you need. I know you'll likely want your things from your old place, but they have to be inspected first. You know the drill. That BS will likely take a week or so. So just buy whatever replacement stuff you need in the meantime. You want me to escort you over?"
I did indeed know the drill. Certain Items I couldn't just get at the corner store, due to Bomb paranoia. That or death ray/giant robot paranoia.
"I'd prefer it, I'd like to know if I need to order new washing machines or whatever."
Not to mention I'd feel better knowing my main facilitator was nearby in case security gave me grief. That and the elevator ride gave us a chance to talk.
"I won't do wet-work Marc."
He looked uneasy.
"I know. But chances are you'll be pressed back into field work. I'm sure you've figured that out already."
I nodded.
"This body isn't designed for the rough stuff though, or so the doc told me. Try to use me in that type of role, and the government will make hypocrites of themselves."
"I'm aware; you've been out of the game too long in any case; you'll likely be given grunt work. Safe houses, building identities, that sort of thing. I wouldn't put using that analyst brain of yours to use out of the realm of possibility. Probably both, knowing how we work."
"I'm fine with that, bring it on. Work will keep me busy."
"You'll have to face it eventually, you know."
He had no idea. He really couldn't.
"Not if I can help it. Six months or so, and I get a body looking like mine back, or something close. Then I can slip back into my old life."
He shook his head, sadness like a heat haze around him as we stepped off the elevator and into the sunshine filled lobby of a normal office building, one housing one of those phone sales companies pimping some infomercial product I'd never heard of.
"We both know it's too late for that, even if the best case scenario happens."
I shut up, this place was too public for such a conversation. Besides, he was right. At least with Marc in charge of my case, I knew my wishes regarding casual assassinations would be respected.
The outdoors was every bit what the hints from inside had so tantalizingly promised; cold but bright, crisp and with a slight breeze which brought the effluvia of the city to the nostrils. Since this was one of the better sections of town, that meant only the smallest of hints of mold and decay. Which was mildly ironic, really.
The apartment building directly across from the office building we had just exited was called the Maneire ame; it was french, and fit me more than most, I felt. A good omen, I hoped. The place looked normal enough on the outside, sort of a knock off of an expensive hotel, but on the inside it was obviously fortified. The walls, while coated with tasteful paneling and accents, were just as obviously over a foot thick. The dim mood lighting in no way hid the many armed men, standing in evenly spaced alcoves on either side. Nor the bulletproof glass the staff were placed behind.
At least they made the attempt to hide the metal/chemical/explosive detector placed in the doorway.
I knew they had such a device, which was why it was mildly irksome to have one of the normally statue like army types break from his alcove and head our way, waving us to halt. I tried to hide my irritation as he waved a hand held version over me as if I were one of those old guys at an airport with a metal hip, then nodded, flowing back into his alcove as if he were molded there. The other people around went back to studiously ignoring him, and by extension, the rest of them.
Marc shook his head again, but the shroud of doom surrounding him had lessened.
"You look entirely too much like a kid pouting when you glare like that."
I was all ready to light into him with righteous indignation, approaching the front desk or not, other people or no, when he waved me off.
"Don't worry about it; he was just getting your metallurgical signature on file. Now that it is, he won't bother you again. That is, unless something is off about it next time, like you're coated in Semtex or something."
I closed my mouth. Made sense, I suppose. But getting a wand waved in my face every time I came in was only half the reason I was angry. If my best glare made me look, well, as if I were pouting... then what other expressions did I have that no longer worked for me now? Happiness? Sadness? Did it matter if people couldn't correctly tell what I was feeling?
I cast my mind back to the doc's robotic assistant; yes it mattered. It mattered greatly, in how I would be perceived by others, and how they would act on those perceptions. I really hoped I was reading too much into his statement. The alternative to overreaction was far worse.
We rode the elevator up to the 5th floor; I noted it was one of the new ones, capable of accommodating the cyborg bodyguards of the various VIP's that lived here. It of course, had the same vaguely horrid muzak most such rides have; only this one was full of not quite good renditions of the classics... as if Barry Mannilow were trying to play Chopin. For all I knew, maybe that was what it was.
The doors opened into the hall, and into the face of a small security detail inset behind more thick glass. This time it looked more than simply bulletproof. Probably was. The security detail was half a military squad, complete with a combat cyborg rather than large apish men in suits, so why wouldn't they have a full bunker? That also meant there was one on every floor of course. Probably a full squad too, likely the stairs were covered as well.
There were only ten doors per side of the elevator. This building was a rather large one. Marc reached the apartment 56, and gestured to me. I slid the key card in the lock, and it opened on the suspected full suite. The kitchen to my left was large enough to use in a cooking show, the living room was bigger than my entire apartment, and the five doors - three to the right, and two straight back - hinted at more. Nice to see my tax dollars at work, I suppose.
It was fully furnished of course, and with stuff that wouldn't look out of place in the Ritz... or the White House. I strongly doubted I'd need washing machines after all; I had the feeling there was a maid service.
"There is a maid service, isn't there."
"Yep, there is. This isn't the best suite they have, but it is one of the better ones, and the maid service is included. The worst places here are on the ground floors. If you've got appliances you want to save, they will be put into storage for you, the complex has storage units for each occupant in the basement."
"Cameras?"
"Standard operating procedure for V.I.P.S."
Which meant high definition cameras everywhere but the bathroom, where only high gain microphones were placed. The natives got uppity if the security types saw them shower. I'm not sure I cared... but then I'm not sure I didn't either. I did look completely human after all, and being not fully human might make it worse. I was a prude, but not a complete stranger to the sex-bot industry. I couldn't be, it was a prime motivation for the actions some people take after all.
The first door straight back was a bathroom with an inset tub large enough for three people to completely submerge themselves in it, marble sinks and a toilet hidden behind a screen. The second was a den or office, with a large wraparound desk and empty bookshelves. The three doors to the left of the entrance were all bedrooms, and very large ones. They were also completely furnished. The closets were larger than my old bathroom.
It was kind of surreal, really.
"So not a single; good to know I suppose."
"Well other than clothes I don't think I need anything."
I did not need to eat after all, and they had toiletries in the bathroom.
"Well that's all you then; enjoy, and I have work to do. Be sure to head back to your vault once you're done, the techs need to have their evil way with you."
"I understand, break a leg, preferably someone else's. And Marc... thank you."
He waved on his way out the door. I was pretty sure he felt just as bad as I did about me getting back into the business, but that was preferable to dead. At least, I was fairly sure. Oh well, time to shop.
Marc Perez despised lying, but it was necessary. The lie this time was sort of innocuous, at least in his line of work. A quick jog across the street. A long visual scan behind him, searching for a specific face which he did not find, and he was back into the 'Chamber'.
The elevator ride was just as slow the second time as the first.
He arrived to find Laura and Herb both hunched over a monitor in the corner with a third person, An African American of indeterminate years and constipated disposition, with enough medals on his army dress uniform to build an ironclad.
Captain Washington. How's it looking?
“Well she found most of the cameras, and removed the ones in the bathroom.”
“I did tell you that would happen. What do you think?”
He turned fully to me, and away from the screen showing the subject.
“Well, she moves like an old pro. I'd even hesitate to say she was rusty, and a bit unfamiliar with the new techniques we use. Maybe five years out of date?”
Marc nodded.
“About that; 4 to be precise. Early retirement.”
The captain stole a glance at the screen.
“Looking pretty spry for that. But then, that's the point isn't it?”
Marc nodded again. He noticed the two geeks following the conversation with their entire heads, like a fan does a tennis match.
“Well?”
“She acts human. When I was assigned to this project I had my doubts. Just 5 minutes watching her is enough for me. My team will do it's job.”
Marc turned to the geek squad.
“Your thoughts?”
Laura spoke up first.
“She's human. It's astonishing that no one has tried to program an android to think they were human before; it's such a simple idea... “
Herb shushed him with a hand over her mouth as she started off.
“Sorry sir, she doesn't know what she's saying. She's human. No way can an android be programmed with prior behaviors like that; androids often have problems with our protocols and social interaction, even the best. Kaname actually understands humor. And those expressions... I could all but hear her call me a slacker asshole in her head.”
Marc nodded and turned to Laura.
“Your opinion does not matter here. Kaname is human, got it? She doesn't need you screwing this up, and neither do we. Let slip that you have any doubt at all, and you'll find yourself in Nowhere Alaska running cold weather experiments on actuators. With generator gas shipments reduced.”
She saluted. She actually saluted me.
“Roger that boss, understood loud and clear.”
The captain chose to interrupt.
“She's leaving the apartment; any idea where she's going?”
“Well the choices are clothes shopping and here. My guess is clothes shopping, since she's wearing the only thing she owns.”
There were stars in Laura's eyes.
“Clothes... shopping?”
Herb grinned.
“And you're stuck in here with me, you wannabe fashionista.”
“But...!”
her objection ran head first into the stern face of Marc.
“Where is my psychological profile?”
“Urk.”
“Captain?”
“Team's in position and tailing her. Overwatch is up and running. Cameras are recording.”
Marc nodded as Herb switched focus back to the monitor.
“Good. If she doesn't make at least half your team, I'll be surprised.”
The captain nodded.
“Challenge accepted; standard bet rules?”
“Sure. Got to go, need to see how the terrorists are trying to sneak into the Canadian border this week. See you all later.”
Waves were exchanged, then everyone silently got back to work; Laura with a slightly pensive air about her.
…........................................................
I was being followed.
I mean, of course I was being followed; I was a government asset now, and that meant certain things.. One I spotted right off; she was dressed in winter gear like everyone else. But it didn't quite hide the military issue arctic boots, better than any civilian cold weather set.
Sloppy.
Keeping an eye on her proved it, she had no bags or packages, and drifted randomly from shop to shop; even stopping at a cooking specialty shop once when she spotted me glancing back. I doubted greatly that people window shopped for Wolfgang Puck's latest selection of cookware in twenty degree weather.
Even the hardiest shopoholic would want to be inside on a day like today. Or at the very least, in a hurry. I didn't really feel the cold unless I chose to, so I could afford to walk slowly.
Got to hand it to her though, she showed no annoyance on her face when I slowed down.
A quick little backtrack while pretending to think about a rather slim coat that was clearly not suitable for temperatures like this, (no matter how well lined with hollofil) revealed another one. A lineman, working on the power lines that crossed the city was not unusual. One that didn't know how to actually use his lineman's tool and instead was instead fumbling around with it in cold like this was.
A search ahead of me revealed no one I could readily identify, and as the lineman went out of sight, the mystery shopper dropped back too. So it was shifts, but not having anyone in front of me was unusual. It would mean I wasn't properly boxed in. Which meant I could assume someone was there, even if I couldn't see them.
The next block behind me was a tag team; a married couple that looked perfectly normal, both in their late 20's, both chatting loudly enough for me to hear, though far back that I couldn't make anything out. The husband carrying packages, while the wife argued or cajoled by turns, presumably about where to go next.
All perfectly natural except for the bulge that just had to be a holdout .32 of some kind, in an ankle holster that the wife's pants could not quite conceal. In a state where conceal and carry was illegal, unless you were law enforcement or a government agent of some kind.
I probably wouldn't have picked it up without my computerized brain comparing the silhouette subconsciously. At least it didn't break into sirens or ping a warning or something. That would have been annoying.
In a way I was touched that I rated a full team. Usually an agent like myself got one or two bodyguards and that was it. They had to be ours; even if other governments knew of me by now (something I highly doubted) they wouldn't know where I was quickly enough to put together such a perfectly appearing team in order to track me.
I wouldn't have to worry about that for another say... two days. Russia would have assets in place by that time for sure, and China wouldn't be far behind. Japan likely already had an agent around looking for me; the good doctor's client was Japanese (the only thing I knew about him) and it was a fair bet that at least one agent would be working that angle.
My gut told me so.
I was pretty glad I had a gut, all told. It told me I was still human, for all the metal involved. No robot was capable of making the intuitive leaps I could. Even if my gut was no longer in my gut.
Hmm.
There was a flaw in my plan. I had only myself to carry everything. No way could I do that; while I was sure I was strong enough, there was the matter of bulk. So what to do?
Answer: what everyone did when on the government payroll and needed to deal with a real world problem; throw money at it. I really hope the tax payers wouldn't be too pissed. Because it was time to use my new card to go to the boutique route as opposed to the mall route. Boutiques would deliver.
They had better quality clothes anyway; if I was going to hobnob I'd likely have to give up my comfy jeans and t-shirt lifestyle. The first shops weren't really that far from where I was, so I kept walking.
--Query--
--Best shops for clothing in immediate vicinity?--
A 3D map unfolded in my head, red glowing pins stuck at various points. I took a moment to familiarize myself with it, noting the names, then willed it away. I knew I could recall it at any time.
I started at Saks.
At Saks I dealt with a matronly like middle manager, picking out styles, a few of which would have to be made to my measurements. But wonder of wonders, they did have a variety of things to fit me. I guess they did have tiny Asian chicks shop here often enough. I left my address and moved on after an hour. Being able to scan the clothes and know at a glance that they would fit me perfectly was a help.
The next places I needed a cab for; so I hailed one. It took me less than a minute to get one, which was sort of unusual.
A few shops later, I ended at Cerato; having a similar shopping experience there as at Saks. Only after I was done did it occur to me that I somehow knew all the best and trendy shops around. How had that happened, exactly?
Where did the map even come from?
--Query--
--Internet Protocols active--
--search history: Google maps--
Oh cool, I had accessed the internet wirelessly, and checked Google maps. My network interface card had somehow queried an address and went online in order to answer my question. I hadn't even know the darn thing was on.
--Query--
--Always ask before accessing the internet?--
--Turn on anti-viral procedures?--
I clicked mental yeses to both; I couldn't believe I needed to, but sometimes common sense seemed a little hard to find with computers. I guess even the ones in your own head.
At any rate I had finished my shopping and identified five of the no doubt team of six people stalking me. The sixth was likely one of the ones in front of me, but I just couldn't spot him or her no matter what. Even in a cab, there were stretches when I simply lost my tail.
Even being out of field work for years, that was mildly infuriating. And potentially dangerous, cause if our own could do it, then so could the other side. Whichever side that was this week.
Probably the Chinese.
--Warning!--
--Power supply at 35%--
--Recharge recommended--
--Estimated 4 hours left--
So, probably a good thing to go get a recharge. I hope they had the chair ready, because I did not want to find out what happened if I ran out of power. It couldn't be that hard to hook the thing up, could it? It seemed like warming me drew a lot of power; and maybe I should turn that off in the future. Though I hated the idea of being cold.
I left it on for now. I still had several hours worth of juice, and there was no rush.
I arrived back at the apartment complex, still with no idea who the sixth person was. A quick word at the front desk to expect deliveries, and I skipped across the street to the strip lab. I was still being followed, but they hadn't followed me into the apartment building. Kind of suggestive, but they appeared to have no problem following me in here.
It likely meant they worked here, directly for this place. Of course I already had that deduced, but confirmation never hurt. Hell two of them followed me into the elevator. Unfortunately, they were two I'd already made.
“Newlyweds, huh?”
Up close the woman was just a little shy of the fresh faced appearance she had presented on the street, but the lines just starting to engrave their way across her countenance in no way detracted from her classic beauty. She was 5 ft 6.3 inches and weighed in at 156 lbs, and there was more than a suggestion of muscle under that coat. Those thighs could likely crack walnuts. Her long brown hair was pulled straight back in a severe way that belied her friendly expression, and those sparkling blue eyes spoke of a prankster nature.
Her groom was an average 5 ft 9.4 inches and weighed in at 188 lbs, also packing muscle, though in his case it was a bit more lean to his frame; a classic runner's frame. He had blond hair and blue eyes, but otherwise looked just shy of remarkable. A very good asset in the business.
“So how did you make us?”
Right to the point with him, good to know.
“Your coat was zipped but not buttoned. Teams in cold weather sometimes do that so they can get to a concealed firearm faster. It's against regulations and common sense, but some old timer likely taught you.”
I pointed to the lady.
“And you, have a .32 revolver strapped to your ankle in a state where conceal/carry is almost impossible for a civilian to get. You need pants a little less fashionable to hide something like that.”
She stuck out her leg, where the bump was just ever so slightly visible. Her companion face palmed.
“Oh, oops.Hi, I'm Holly, and this lunk here is Dirk.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he answered.
“Yes, it really is Dirk.”
Holly smirked. Evidently he got that a lot.
“So, how many of us did you spot?”
“Five. Were you guys sent in with me because you were sure I made you?”
In a weird way, it made sense. At least it did to me, even if I'd see them all eventually.
“Nah, it's actually our turn. Tomorrow it'll be someone else's.”
Dirk added:
“Yes, whoever loses the rock/paper/scissors match.”
Well don't I just feel special.
The elevator finally opened, sparing me the effort of being insulted. Herb and Laura were there, and a newcomer that I didn't know.
“Kaname! Welcome back!”
Ignoring the false cheer, I turned to Herb, who was tinkering with something.
“The chair done? I'm beginning to run low on power here.”
He nodded, unlit cigarette bobbing in his teeth.
“Sure its, ran a full diagnostic. It's ready when you are.”
I turned to the guy I didn't know as Laura began to pout. A black man in his early 50's, with some interesting medals on his chest. So he was likely the officer for this crew. He confirmed it the moment he opened his mouth.
“How many did you make?”
“Five. What do I win?”
He ignored that.
“Who were they?”
I shrugged and pointed.
“These two; the lineman, the lone window shopper in mil spec cold weather boots, and the banker who took 3 different cabs to get anywhere.”
“I'm Captain Washington.”
Captain Washington? A name I'd heard before; though he was an up and coming lieutenant at the time. He snapped me out of my rumination by bringing his blue-tooth earpiece up to his mouth.
“Lieutenant Beal, congratulations, you just earned a bottle of something on me. The rest of you just earned a weeks remedial training at Langley.”
The groans behind me were muted, but I heard them anyway. The captain turned to me, hand out. I shook it.
“Kaname, ma'am, it's a pleasure. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Thank you captain, I seem to remember a few tales of your exploits as well.”
“Overstated, certainly.”
“Of course, just like mine.” I agreed, heading over to the chair.
“So you're the one in charge of this team?”
“Yes ma'am I'm in charge of your team. I'm sure you know why we're here.”
To make sure I didn't go insane and kill everyone I saw, or steal state secrets. I simply nodded; no need to be crass and just say it outright.
“I'm at just under 35% power captain. Mind if I just get right to it, and test the connection?”
“By all means ma'am. It's your show.”
I nodded and sat, the cord that scared me so much a few days ago locking on and plugging itself in as I got comfortable. Herb and Laura were down right entranced, which seemed a little odd to me. Well, the chair itself still worked, none the worse for wear from being transported. But...
“I'm getting no power at all. You sure this thing is plugged in?”
Herb looked back at the displays.
“Odd, the diagnostics worked... Oh, damn, I'm an idiot.”
He flipped an innocuous looking switch near his workstation. Wow, they didn't even trust the computer network; that was an honest to God breaker, installed to cut off power in case I went berserk while powering up or something.
Way too paranoid, but I approved.
The switch flipped, I sighed.
“Alright, I'm going to sleep. Unless any of you need something? Last chance.”
Three heads were shook.
“Alright then, good night.”
Life went on, as it was wont to do. In life it took almost no time at all for the unusual or downright strange to become commonplace.
Waking up each day in a chair one was literally plugged into, for example. Riding a massive elevator out of a tomb of a hidden government complex. Walking across the street in order to shower, dress, and otherwise keep up appearances before heading back to that subterranean tomb where the chair resided in order to be tested by analyzing political situations and trends, much as I used to do before I retired. All of that under hidden and constant armed guard.
It took less than a week for that to become normal.
And while it would take some time for my predictions to be proven correct, the events I was analyzing were obvious enough. Well at least to me; the middle east was always a certain way, and the French and Chinese were always pretty shifty. I knew, I just knew, that they were working on cold fusion together, and damn the consequences. Of course, trying to do that based on gifted schematics and expertise was an exercise in futility, but I wasn't about to tell either of them that.
I was fairly sure this had been worked on before as well, by others. That I was in fact being tested; not that it bothered me. If I kept at it, I could possibly be cleared for field work again. With some luck the doc would be allowed to make that body for me, and I could do field work in something a little more... rugged.
I stepped off the elevator and threw the carton of cigarettes at Herb.
“My good deed for the day. You should quit smoking those; they will definitely shorten your life.”
He grinned from his position on the floor, his arms up to the elbows in console wiring. He was hunting some random short or another; thankfully not in any of the systems I needed to maintain my life.
“I know, but they're sooooo good.”
I snorted. He wasn't even down to his last ones; he had one tucked behind each ear. Just where they had been when he asked me to go on this cancer stick run in the first place. I think he forgot they were there.
I half wanted to wait in order to see if he'd touch some current bare-handed, and light them up. Lisa had told me that had already happened once. His fault for not cutting the power first, but somehow he managed not to die from such mishaps.
Instinct told me that somehow it was a gifted thing, though not one I'd heard of before. I wondered what sort of oddity Lisa might be harboring.
I was almost finished with my latest boring fluff piece when the elevator opened again and captain Washington stepped out. He had just bitten into a bushel of lemons, judging from his expression.
“Hello Captain. What happened to you?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just bad news. Carry on.”
“Bad news like what?”
“Nothing I can share.”
Ahh, classified then. Lisa chose that moment to come out of the back room; a back room she had made out of the lab using medical curtains. She was working on something back there, but she wouldn't show it to either myself or Herb. Herb had already been smacked for not respecting that, and I didn't really care that much. Not wise to piss off one of the people making sure you stay alive.
With my analysis done, my work was done, on time and under budget. I scanned it, sent it, then filed it, both the electronic and hard copy. The government did so love its dead trees; it had acres of them. No doubt in a dusty warehouse somewhere.
As for the emails, I had no idea who I was actually sending them to, or if they were read. I suspected they were but only because of who I was at the moment. Checking for inconsistencies and the like. The work assignments came from the same address/ internet protocol/ user name. And while I could use my own independent systems to figure out who and where my immediate boss was, I considered it bad form. One should only spy on enemies, after all.
I used the truly massive computer in the manner to which it was best suited; I loaded up a military style shooting simulator and began a round. The captain watched silently, still standing, as I tried to improve my aim. It was a wasted effort, really. The assistance my new software gave me when aiming was more than bore thinking about.
Really; if I thought about it, odd calculations would appear in my head, and the targeting reticule that somehow imposed itself on my eyes became inundated with scrolling computerese. As long as I didn't think directly on it, the chip in my head did not think it was a query, and the distracting elements remained hidden.
The noise and light show brought Herb out of hiding; he seemed able to sniff out anything video game like as if part bloodhound. I was, of course, using a simulated gun; a hunk of plastic designed to feel just like a certain nine millimeter of my acquaintance, if not look like it. Herb somehow had a matching one, and somehow logged himself into the simulation. This was not that much of a surprise really, but I knew from the previous time he'd tried this, that I couldn't really depend on him. He couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a howitzer.
He claimed he was better, that it was just the 'game'. All I heard were excuses. When I switched to covert operations instead of the hit and run missions, he tagged out with a groan.
Those missions seemed to require more thought than he was willing to devote; last time he tried, he had missed some pretty telling evidence in the form of footprints, which led to him getting killed from behind. It was apparently pretty embarrassing for him, judging from all the cursing and chain smoking afterwards.
Marc came in just as I was finishing up a cold weather stealth op... I had completed it successfully, but gotten shot during the escape. Acceptable, a passing grade in the eyes of the government, but I needed to do better. Lieutenant Bael, a large bluff mid-western farm boy with raw features and a large frame (perfect for intelligence work, as he didn't look the part at all) came in with Dirk, both wheeling a large box between them. It looked heavy.
“Mail call for Kaname; and no, it isn't a bomb; we checked.”
I'd had my mouth open, that very question on my tongue. Bad joke, perhaps, but without it I had nothing.
“Alright then, what is it?”
Bael and Drik both stopped pushing with a flourish, and it rolled up to me. They had to have planned that in advance. It was a wooden crate, with a tarp stretched over it, and a plastic sleeve with some form of paperwork inside.
The paperwork was really a note:
“Dear Kaname, please take good care of her; she is yours now. She will follow your orders explicitly, and to the best of her ability. Also included are the keys to the kingdom. It is unlikely I will ever be released, so it it all yours now. I have not forgotten what I owe you. Forever yours, Doctor Thadeus Hastur Langford.”
Ugh, I knew who this was. As soon as I removed the tarp, she sat up and confirmed it. Sara Merit's glassy blue eyes were staring into mine.
“Greetings and hello, operator Kaname.”
“Hello Sara.”
I turned to Marc.
“How did you spring her?”
I had no doubt that he was the real reason she wasn't languishing in a storage facility somewhere, or dismantled.
“Well, she's a robot. After we had the lab boys check her for secret orders that could be used to try and bust the good doctor out, or hidden bombs or assassination orders, you know, the usual... and she came up clean, it was suggested we get some use out of her somehow. She is a fairly advanced smart system after all, and she responds to you. Who created her isn't any fault of hers. So we asked the doc, and he sent his blessing.”
I could almost bet the doc suggested it first. But if Marc wanted plausible deniability, he could have it.
“Well that's cool I suppose, but I've no idea what use to put her to.”
“Ooooh! Memememememememe!”
Of course Lara had ideas. She started circling, staring at Sara so intently that if she were an actual person, she'd likely be blushing.
“No Lara, you're not dismantling her.”
“But she's a Langford original! A series nine! You know how rare and advanced those are? The only ones better are....”
“Adlevo, series tens, twelves, and fourteens, supposedly.”
Huh. Where had the hostility in my voice come from? The doc had treated me well, but from an objective standpoint, much of what he made was inferior to Adlevo's... or so I'd been told. I had been doing some research of my own as well as my clearance allowed, and I was beginning to have my doubts.
Of course, all that aside, Lara was right. The doc's designs were among the most advanced in the world. Even Sara was a catch for just about any government or major corporation. And his lesser stuff? Well, much of it was in use already, in China and Russia. Some countries in the middle east Had some of his earlier combat designs too.
“Operator Kaname. Do you require any assistance?”
The operator tag was new. Looking at her, she seemed to have the same set of clothes as when we were all picked up, with the same rips and stains. I would have to remedy that, at some point.
“Yes, could you clean the lab, please?”
She slowly looked around, taking it all in.
“Understood.”
She went right to the small closet filled with cleaning supplies and removed a broom and dustpan. Lara tsked at me.
“One of the most advanced androids of the age, reduced to a Roomba. You should be ashamed.”
I snorted at her again.
“Better than your plans for her. She stays intact this way.”
“Young ladies shouldn't make vulgar noises.”
I rolled my eyes at her. She should know better. I had noticed that the body tended to fool people though, even the ones that should know better. Silly me, I had made the mistake of telling her that, and her response was to tease over it.
I worried about the state of our world and it's future, governed by such people.
Marc looked at the screen that had my attention before his arrival.
“So this is what you do with your time? What about the work you're sent?”
“Finished. Not like I have much else to do, really. So I thought I'd try to get re-certified. My covert field ops score and aim are better than they used to be. Only one last thing to test.”
He grunted non-commitally. There was no simulation for the last thing; spy operations in enemy territory. I knew he didn't want me doing any of that again, but he was smart enough not to say so.
For my part, I wasn't sure I did either, but if I was going to be forced into it, then I wanted to be ready. Dirk had other concerns.
“Figures.”
Bael took the bait.
“What figures?”
“We just got done busting our backs, doing grunt work, hauling around something that could walk itself around.”
Bael blinked and grinned.
“Welcome to the Army, soldier.”
I shrugged.
“Could have just called ahead and ruined the surprise. I'd have told her to come find me.”
They two both swiveled their heads at exactly the same moment to stare pointedly at Marc. He grinned at them.
“....Whoops?”
I wanted to fan the flames, so I did.
“He did that on purpose. He's Navy.”
Want to see someone sputter indignantly? Accuse an Army man of being Navy. Then run, very very fast. I threw caution to the wind as Marc tried to pounce. For the first time in a long time, I was faster. He chased me around for awhile, then stopped, adjusting his tie. The smile never left his face. Bael however, evidently didn't know Marc well enough. Understandable, really.
“Really? We really have Navy in our midst, here?”
I shook my head, wondering for about the thousandth time about the lack of shortness in my breathing. Also for the thousandth time I ignored the roll of text that described how and why I breathed at all to me.
“No, I lied. He's Army, then Langley, same as me. That's how we met in fact, Langley. I was teaching... well, a variety of things, and he was learning them.”
Dirk and Bael shook their heads.
“That's terrible. To even lie about a thing like that... sad.”
“Hey, all is fair in love and humor.”
A pretty lame comeback, even by my standards, but they both laughed anyway.
There was something else in the crate; a small box that had been under Sara. I touched it lock first on accident, and it popped right open. Inside were half a dozen flash drives and 4 small notebooks, all labeled in the doctor's neat scrawl. The note included said it all:
“Kaname. Included are full schematics of your body in particular, your series, and the other models you've seen as well as some other assorted inventions that could be of use. Sara knows how to read and construct them, if needed, and will do as you ask. Please feel free to use them all as you see fit.”
It was all his notes on my body series, and on Sara's. The thumb drives were all terabyte models, and full; at least, that's what the labels said. They were also labeled by model series, and even had a miscellaneous one. Which meant I was short a few, but I wasn't greedy.
As if conjured, Lara was at my side, grasping my arm and drooling on my shoulder.
“Is that...?”
Herb also shuffled forward like a zombie, eyes on the notebooks.
“Looks like it is....”
I prepared to run for my life again.
“No. Bad techs! Anyone have a rolled up newspaper?”
Just as they were beginning to close, I spotted my salvation.
“Sara! Come get this box, and put it away for safekeeping.”
“Understood operator Kaname.”
I got the box closed despite the pouts, and Sara carried it away.
“The doc left them to me for safekeeping, so safe kept they will be. You already know all you need to about me, and I'm not going to see random Langford death machines walking around if I can help it.”
It was a goodwill gesture, I knew. A way to show the courts he was cooperating in the hopes they would let him out sometime before he died. But for all of that, it was still touching nonetheless; he was trying to do right by me.
I had no illusions that I would be able to keep the tech secret, but I could at least mess with the two tasked with learning it for a time. Marc and I shared another look.
“You mean you don't want the competition?”
“Exactly. Bow before your new cyborg overlord.”
“Well, I still like her better than the last guy.”
“Don't worry; you'll get your chance to look through it all. I just want to see if I can do it first. I mean, I want to test any understanding this chip in my head might provide.”
Herb straightened up and stopped joking.
“You think it could offer you some sort of advanced understanding on how gifted tech works?”
I knew it did, after a fashion. If I looked at my own schematics for example, I could understand what piece went where, and why. At least, given a little time. What I didn't know, was whether I could do that for anything else. I was fairly sure building anything from scratch was out, however.
“Not sure, but that's what I want to find out. And in order to do that, I need to look those notes over, and I can't really do that if you're doing it. So you both can wait a day.”
I did not miss the weighted glance he threw Marc's way.
“Then take your time.”
I ignored the byplay, instead doling out a gracious nod.
“Your cyborg overlord thanks you. Now, your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to actually score positively on the sim you just failed. Pick up your gun, and fumble around for our amusement, please.”
He grumbled, but complied. I sat to watch, wishing for a beer. Wishing for a reason to actually drink beer, other than to waste it; the desire itself was a phantom thing, but needing the beverage to settle my stomach and calm my nerves? That would have been downright human of me. The taste would be nice too, but I couldn't really justify the waste as is. Too many other peoples of the world needed a nice cold one in order to unwind.
I had once proposed that very thing become global policy; it was shot down for religious reasons.
Now I had to ruin the mood completely.
“So, how goes the case Marc?”
“He's hired Gibbons. A move that according to Gibbons himself, Adlevo tried to block by calling in his retainer.”
Gibbons was one of the foremost defense lawyers of our age and country, with a winning record that any lawyer would kill to have. He had in fact represented Adlevo before... on Adlevo v. Carmichael, a very famous case of copyright infringement or theft. He had won it for Adlevo, a good twenty years ago, and been on retainer ever since. None had levied such accusations on him since. If my memory served, Carmichael was Adlevo's first assistant, who quit and brought the lawsuit after a year. Langford was his second. The fact that Gibbons was willing to ignore a good client of long standing in favor of representing the doc was pretty telling, in my opinion. Well either that or Gibbons was going to railroad the doc; but everything I'd read about the man indicated he was a stand up guy. Well, for a lawyer at any rate.
“That reminds me. Gibbons has asked to talk to you regarding Langford's defense, and your own possible upcoming trial.”
Urk.
“What? Trial?”
Marc nodded.
“Yep. Money laundering, possibly. The bank, remember?”
Well, crap. Try to do something nice for people....
“But I didn't know. I didn't even know who I was. The doc asked a favor, and I said sure.”
“Yes, I know. You told me. But there's going to be a hearing on whether or not to bring charges. Gibbons wants to talk to you about Langford, and that hearing. I think he's willing to represent you for it.”
Well that would be... a godsend. If I left it up to the government I'd probably be bundled in a deeper hole than this one or doing fieldwork in war zones before the month was out. There was no doubt that I would avoid jail time, and even my record would be expunged, but it would be used as blackmail in any event. Having a public name on the case would ensure against that possibility.
“Well, when did he want to meet?”
“Next Monday, 1:00 P.M.”
Hmm, a little later than I wanted. I could have done with tomorrow. Herb was doing alright, but he was going to get killed from behind again. At least this time he realized the mistake of the footprints. Now it was the sniper that was going to get him. Well that or the dogs. Lara hadn't paid attention to anything since the data reveal; she was busy chasing Sara around. I wasn't worried; Sara had divined my intent apparently, and despite being stronger was still being gentle. The only thing she was doing was holding onto the box, when she could just as easily flatten Lara as an attacker.
“By the way, been meaning to ask you Herb; what's the final verdict on my battery status?”
--Battery charge 82%--
Thank you, chip inspired voice in my head, but not quite what I meant. And then unbidden, power usage and cost by system graphs unfolded in my head, as it had before. I knew what it told, but I wanted to hear it from Herb.
“Well now that your CPU isn't taking up all that power to index your drive, you can last about three days if you want to. I'd say for safeties sake that pulling an all nighter is fine, but any more and you run the risk of shutdown, and my buddies and I all agree that shutdown is bad.”
And then the dogs got him, and he threw his gun down with a curse.
“Who the hell designs these things?!? This is bullshit!”
Lieutenant Bael picked up the gun, and slapped the randomizer option. We all sat back and watched, even Lara, who was now bored of messing with our human shaped Roomba. He completed it and in record time, which I guess wasn't that hard considering the only other records on our computer were Herb's and mine. Clearly though, I was more rusty than I thought I was.
Unbidden, several memories played, one after the other, all of my previous tests on these very same sims, or at least their equivalents. In my youth, my best scores, my times were displayed with perfect clarity. And Lieutenant Bael had beaten me handily. Stupid perfect recall; I was pretty sure I wasn't born with that. Of course, no one else needed to know my scores; aside from Marc, no one should know. Or hopefully not; they were classified, but chances were everyone had read my file. Even the redacted bit. As The good Lieutenant crossed the electronic finish line I tested the waters.
“Meh, I've done better.”
Bael, Captain Washington, and Marc all three looked at me askance. They definitely did know. I wondered if they could tell that I knew that they knew?
“Well then, grandpa, show me how it's done.”
I picked up my gun and restarted the simulation, hitting the randomize option as well. I was privately happy to be called grandpa; sure it was a teasing insult, but at least Bael hadn't forgotten whose brain was wrapped up in this weird package.
I did have a real audience now, and pride was on the line, so I decided to get serious.
I used everything; my built in gun sight, infra-red, calculated ballistic arcs and gps maps to determine the best guard locations, everything I could. I went embraced all the technology in my head everything I used to scoff at in another life. In the end, after much sweat and stress (simulated) I completed the mission and tied Bael's score. That is, the score on our machine; I had a feeling he had better ones elsewhere.
“Not bad. You got the skills, at least.”
He clapped me on the back, hard.
“You'll get there some day, old man.”
“Well a tie isn't a loss, but it isn't a win either. So, I nominate Kaname to get today's take out.”
My detail had taken to doing this; coming up with excuses to send me out. I think they were going stir crazy, and this was the easiest way for them to get exercise. I didn't care, of course; I could ignore any desire to go out for months. I had before, I probably would again. But between incidents like these, and the impromptu hand to hand sessions (which I was out of practice for), I was making more trips than I was used to, and mostly for bad food. I didn't really mind and it wasn't anything to argue over.
“Fine, what do you want?”
“Chinese? Team 2, what do you guys want for dinner?”
I shrugged and waited for the individual orders to flow.