Chapter 29: Workshop or Workout?

Interview in the year 2328 with Inventor of the Neuroframe and Founder of the Free Cities: Beauregard Mazhyr

Response to the question: 'What would you say makes a good Shard Op’? Considering you’re the very first one to ever exist?'

That’s an interesting question, Margret. You could dissect it a number of ways, and then diverge it into the several sub-classifications of Shard Operators working throughout the world.

Obviously, Operators need to have extensive knowledge in the realms of both medicine and engineering. But that isn’t to say that you need to be an expert in both fields, I studied Medicine in Harvard and Bioengineering in Yale… it was only after The Collapse that I spent my decades up in space studying every other field to have escaped me.

In short, I became good at almost every field of science available to me. Was I a world leading expert in any of them? No. But I was the first one to see all the pieces, how they could fit together in creating the Implant-Adapter Link that would pioneer into the Neuroframe project. Obviously, I didn’t work it alone and had the Free Cities’ brightest minds working to put my theoretical experimentation into a practical form.

But if you were to look back, Shardware had existed far before Nueroframes had. The term ‘Shardware’ simply refers to any piece of mechanical and computer engineering with an input from a Shard in its creation or modification. And people were sticking Shards into everything they could the moment the Swarming started. So, it’s debatable if I could be called the world’s first Shard Op’.

Again, I was just good at finding the pieces. Experimentation and invention has always been at my core, but other Operators are experts in combining genetic modification with inorganic appliances, some marvel at rote engineering while many find their havens in code. The realm of Shardware is wide, almost as large as the database of mutations we know off.

So it’s a complex question with a simple answer really. What makes a good Shard Op’ is simply being good at what you do. If your heart is out to turn a piece of scrap into treasure, be good at it… and if it’s the opposite? I think you know what I’d say about that.

5:58 AM

June 26th

Ripley

Even in a place like Little Requiem, the sunrise could be beautiful. There was a strange allure to witnessing the rising star climb in between the scaffolds supporting decayed steel ribs, their golden rays daring to breach into an area besieged by such death and destruction. I took it as a chance, that it was okay to hope even amidst despair and the unknown.

Everything I’d heard today was undoubtedly the truth, I had fucked up by overestimating my Claw and Features’ ability to bridge over my lack of experience. The path of a mercenary would mean death, lives would end at my hands. Two already had. This city has one of the highest homicide rates of the world, it’d been the promised land once but with so many refugees hoarding in after the Fourth Swarm’s destruction of a Free City in the East Coast leading to a civil war, it no longer could be. Desperation got to them, then combined with the Yellowstone eruption, the latter half of this century was spent in a bid to rebuild what once used to be a stable society.

My grandfather, Alberich Gravas, had been one of those refugees. Dissecting his notes, lately, he constantly mentioned growing up in a battlefield and ruins of a war-torn city. There was only one place that could be. The former Free City of The Floridian Gulf, what used to be a massive sprawling network of buildings stretching from Florida to Mexico was now nothing but a place for the MAL to build their hives in.

And then he’d had enough funds, somehow, to send my mother to one of the most prestigious Universities in New California. I didn’t doubt his skills to go straight, but with how little information there was in the city’s database… he wasn’t a legitimate Shard Op’, he was on the path I’d just embarked on.

One of secrecy and under-the-nose modification.

My right arm raised in the sunlight, and I took a moment to marvel at what I’d done with the claw. It had slimmed down massively, the older version used outdated technology from half a century ago which made it bulky and out of proportion for my body. If I had an extra two inches in height, maybe another fifteen kilos of muscle on me… then maybe it would fit.

But the new version was sleek, no wires spilled out and it’s shell was tight and durable — not to mention, sexy. The output of it’s strength had nearly doubled and I still didn’t even scratch the surface of what the new Claw Tips could do. In all my studies of them, I’d come to know that they weren’t just tools to rewire Shardware but also had various scanners and diagnostic tools.

If I could get an Analyze-derived Feature Link installed, it would become the envy of all Shard Op’s in the world.

“You haven’t taken a sip yet.” My mother’s voice came like a soothing melody.

“You know I hate this artificial stuff.” Just for show, I took a sip of the mug in my hands. Synthetic coffee courtesy of Imperium, just a few droplets of caffeine mixed in with food coloring and taste-modifying chemicals. My face scrunched up at the bitterness. “Don’t know why they made it taste like soap.”

“It’s supposed to be bitter. That’s how coffee tastes.” My mother smirked, joyfully taking her own sip but I could tell from the way her lip puckered she felt the same way I did. “The real stuff is better.”

“Been… a while since you tried it, right? Dad never let me touch the cabinets back in our old place. Maybe I’ll buy you some soon.” I flexed my hand, coffee'd been a luxury nowadays. The MALSwarm had taken over forty percent of Earth’s land, along with any natural resources they might provide.

“That’s not necessary, you’re already doing enough.” She smiled, but her eyes sunk lower to the streets of Little Requiem from this balcony. Turns out there were reputable hotels here, and Madam Hong — the old lady who’d taken me underground — just so happened to be a much more important person than I’d assumed.

I took a sip of the disgusting thing, at least it kept me awake. “We’ll be back in a highrise in no time.”

“I don’t need a highrise to be happy. I just need you, Rip.”

“And I need you.”

The words I said visibly carved over her face, pushing her so far as to place the cup down so she could take a deep breath. “That’s not fair, Ripley.”

“None of this is…” I placed my eyes on the ribs of the town, keeping all my attention on them. “Which is why I have to work to make things better.”

“Ripley… promise me that you’ll remember me, the things I taught you.” The words came out suddenly, injecting into my body like an AdStim.

“We- we’ve already been over this, mom I’m not letting you-“

She put her finger over my lips, shushing me eyes soaked in years of endured pain. “I’m not finished. I know. I know… it’s what we both decided, it’s what we both want but… You’re entering a world neither of us even wanted you to think about. The people you’ll be working with… I think you drew a good lot. But you can’t trust them. Not in the way you trusted me. Everyone’s out for something to gain, and… I… I just don’t want them to be taking from you. So much has already been taken from you.”

She wiped her eyes. “You have to stay strong, stay yourself, stay as my little boy. The same one who tore apart my laptop as a kid, proudly showing me how you rewired it to be a music box. Who made that beautiful necklace for me and your… The one who dreamt of helping people. The one that wanted to be a hero. And I know you are one. I can’t stop you from fighting, because that’s exactly what you have to do from now on… it’s what you’ve always been doing. And I’m not talking in the sense of guns or fists. Fight on Ripley… as yourself. As the child I love, as the man I’m so proud of. You’ve finally gotten just a small ounce of the treasures you deserve and- I just don’t want you to get lost in the greed of this world… it’s so scary.”

Slowly, I cupped my hands over my mother’s… letting the uneasiness of my heart break into me. “I promise.”

…

We drank the ‘coffee’ in silence, taking the moment to appreciate the sunrise. To contemplate and remember the memories that made us who we were.

Then it was time to go our separate ways. My mom left to the safety of our home and I travelled with Diamante and Topaz in an old coupe to a place pretty far from the District center. In fact, it was governed by an entirely different Precinct of the police. The Fifth Precinct.

I didn’t know much, either than that the whole Precinct of Saint Yorinobu was notoriously infected by the Crimson Souls. One of the more recently formed criminal organizations around 30ish years ago… and the fastest growing. We were heading to a clinic based in their territory, but I had my questions.

“Why’s an old gym got an Operating Clinic attached?” That part still didn’t make sense to me.

Topaz, who I still barely knew a thing about, was much more… friendly than I’d assumed from his otherwise quiet disposition. “Place is known to be a common ground between gangs for friendly competitions, like who can lift the most and all that. Our man, Harold Anderson, happens to be somewhat of a friendly face to them all. Works on efficiency augments mostly, but also takes care of a Combat piece here and there under the table.”

“Right.” It made sense now. “Heavy lifting causes wear and tear in synthetic muscles, they don’t regenerate like organic ones would. Not unless you’ve got a Sustain Feature in your system alongside some internal reconfiguration mechanisms like a hefty swarm of nanites.”

Diamante scoffed, turning the wheel smoothly. “Andy does a lot more than that. Might be one of the few Shard Op’s in this city to have my respect. Runs both legitimate and underground, and does premium work on both ends.”

“You a Shardware fanatic?” I couldn’t help but chime in. “Couldn’t tell, really. Not like your entire body is made of steel.”

“Kid.” Diamante took his eyes off the road to focus on me. “I’m a Shardware Enthusiast, you might be smart but a single look in my body would have you scratching your brain out.”

“I don’t know.” My Claw Tips opened to reveal an arsenal of tools at my disposal. “I did all the maintenance work for around thirty cybernetically enhanced gang members for the last five years of my life, and only three months of that involved a Shard Operating Claw. Plus, I didn’t have an Implant.”

“Riiiight. Snake Fangs, wooh scary.” His robotic voice took an exaggerated pitch. “You ever knew they were in debt? To the Muramasa Dynasty of all people. Most of their weaponry is second-hand or shit they pried off from Officers and Vultures, Shaun’s just trying to imitate the works of his superiors with a tenth of the income. The stuff you were modifying was cheap, nothing you couldn’t find a guide on somewhere on the SecondNet. Actual gangs, the stuff we use, is Military-grade… actual Shard Op’s don’t have guide books. They can’t just break apart something they don’t understand like that coffin in your grandpa’s container. They don’t have weeks to spend on the mundane.”

Actual Shard Op’? I took offense to that. “Hey, you’re acting like I didn’t integrate an unknown Warp Material into an equally unknown piece of Shardware.”

“You’re acting like that shit means a thing to me.” Diamante took a more sudden turn. “It’s impressive, I’ll admit. But you had time, Ripley. It was a pet project that you had luxuries with, all of the pieces were meant to come together. Not to mention Skeleton conveniently selling you Claw Tips that had a very compatible connection to that Livewire of yours. In the real business, we work with unknowns. We work with two pieces that were made to be at war with one another, not tech that’s all buddy-buddy. Half the time, our Shardware rejects another piece because no company only wants to have only half of you. They want it all, a complete market share of your Shardyne. Not to mention, the million safeguards in Military stuff that tries to poison you if you don’t have the credentials to access it.”

“Then build your own.” I commented.

“Build your own? You lost a screw?”

“I’m serious. It’s possible.”

“It isn’t the same as your arm, man. You can’t just slap together seven different Shard Op’ claws into one piece and expect them to work like they don’t know their enemy is beside them.”

“Yeah, of course I knew that!” I flourished my arm. “Like look, the neural processor takes after Haithama at first glance, but a closer look shows that it’s actually been jailbroken to have Syntec coding along with Mazhyr Warpcode-recognition. It creates a feedback loop believing that Mazhyr code is the same as Syntec, then the Haithama centerpiece spreads to my motor pieces which are a blend of Imperium and Maz-“

“Your tendon flexors are a hybrid?” Diamante nearly braked the car in the middle of the highway. “Calling bullshit! Not possible unless you stabilized them with a-“

“Syntec synovial fluid with built in mechanoreceptors for wear and tear. Noone does it better. Haithama’s ability to be Warpcode-malleable, Mazhyr’s endurance and Syntec’s functionality. Oh and by the way the Synth-Muscles are a blend of Yuzhou Mustang-Compressors pieced up by a-“

“Shandian Electro-Magnetic coupler!?” Diamante sped up as though the realization jolted through him, cutting between two cars which resulted in a horn blasting at us. “You used Yuzhou’s daughter company to integrate a piece of tech that can scale better with your Gold Grade even if it can’t fully utilize it! That’s how you created the launch system for your claws as well, isn’t it? Wound up some Livewire around the couplers located in the base of your knuckles, using experimental rail-gun schematics from the net?!”

“Bingo.” I snapped my fingers.

“Fucking hell…” Diamante focused only on the road now for a quiet few seconds before blowing air from his mouth. “Not bad… for a rookie. For your joints, should have used the Mazhyr EM synchronizers in their Ionic-River guns. That way you can give your punches the same oomph as your claw. Mazhyr’s Shard Op’ stuff is good, but no respectable Operator uses… what, you must have bought a Shred-Scrapper?”

He had guessed correctly, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. “And where exactly do you propose I get an Ionic-River pistol?”

“No.” He wagged one finger of the steering wheel. “Not a pistol. You need their shotgun, the pellets are exacted into the center of the gun and just a micrometer before they exit, their fields are reversed as their electrons are pulled back into the weapon for their next load. No-one really thinks about it, but the stabilizers used even for their lower Grades are much more technical than even their AR brand.”

“Could also take apart a Syntec Braceshocker-“ I started before I found about twelve flaws in that weapon’s integration that Diamante was not going to let slip by. “Actually… no you’re right. Ionic-River huh… interesting.”

Topaz’ voice startled both Diamante and I as he made himself a part of the conversation, a fluttering of snickers floating from the back of the car. “If you two are gonna hook up with this weird Shardware mating ritual going on, at least kick me out the car first.”

———

Eventually, we got to the gym. An old place by the edges of the Yellowstone Valley that the Green River now drained in. It was a quieter settlement known as a smaller town of St. Yorinobu which contained a mono-rail station capable of getting here in under fifteen minutes from the Pleasure Lanes.

The drive had taken two hours, granted we were using the highway designed for the more… slow variant of cars. Vehicles also had grades involving the Shards used to manufacture them and Aerodyne vehicles along the skyway could have made this journey in a tenth of the time.

Parking the car, I still had trouble believing that this was an area known for being littered with gangs, and that the modest-sized gym ahead of us was some sort of common ground for them. Arnold’s Fitness Center. It held a logo of an extremely buff man lifting a barbell labeled as ‘1 Ton’, the only thing odd about the logo being that half of the man’s face peeled off to reveal a robotic Endoskeleton living within.

“Okay, so can someone explain to me what exactly is this whole place?” I vividly showcased my confusion in hand movements spreading across the whole location.

“Technically speaking…” Topaz whispered, before shrugging and letting his voice out to the known world. “Crimson Soul Territory, used as a connection for operations between Westbrook and Yellowstone. Every building here is in their protection or ownership, a solid fact as much as how Little Requiem has fallen from the sky. Though it’s a bit more than that, St. Yori’s festivals are a bit like a convention for gangs… anytime shit gets real bad or a new mayor is elected, half of the criminal underworld convenes here. As the electors for criminal co-operation, Crimson Soul makes a show by allowing open borders with some… strict rules.”

“Like?” My interest was very much piqued.

“No firearms in specific territories. No gang-affiliated mercs. No drug deals. No Muramasa unless it’s summit time. You want to make a deal here, you contact a Crimson Soul fixer and they do it on your behalf. No details needed, just a buyer and the product handed over with a small fee.”

“And what’s stopping some big gang like Los Diablos from tearing this all down?”

“Stability. It’s proven useful time and time again to have this place running. Plus… it’s kind of popular. Like… look, obviously the gangs all have rivalries and competition with one another. At the same time, they’re run by people. People tend to do stupid things like make friends with people their bosses don’t want them to and in the city… that’s bad. Here, however, it’s an outlet of some sort to just forget about crime for a moment. They come here, ship off their workload to Crimson Soul who have shown themselves to be honest as hard as that may seem… then just spend a week lounging around. It’s like a resort of sorts.”

“And that’s why this gym is popular?” We neared the location, standing just in front of the building now.

Topaz coughed. “Yeah, sorta, mostly cus the guy running it is one hell of a Shard Op’. Been running the place far before Crimson Soul came in and has more or less become one of the most popular Operators to go to for general maintenance when it comes to combat-grade stuff. Sure it’s far, but that means the people who come here are those who know and trust Harold's work. Keeps hush, but also doesn’t take too many deals he knows could get him in trouble. Important thing is, they respect him.”

So I was getting my arm done by a guy who was familiar with Combat tech. “This guy… owns the gym or the Shard Op’ clinic?”

They both smirked, opening the door with a pleasant jingle.

And suddenly, I was in my worst nightmare. Hundreds of sweat-drenched men and women wandered from one set of steel racks to the other, several had biomonitors hooked in as they ran on treadmills blurring in my vision, even more were shouting loudly as they lifted hundreds of kilograms in a bench-press or deadlift.

And at least half of them froze as Diamante and Topaz entered the gym, each and every single one of them brandishing some sort of identifying feature that deigned them to a specific group within the criminal underworld.

Metal Heaven’s steel crown chained over their follower’s forehead; the piercing facial implantations of Crimson Soul; Interflame’s holographic tattoo of shifting blue and white fire; the black metallic teardrops under each eye of Los Diablos; Serpentine tongues of The Gorgon’s… and so many more from the countless smaller gangs inhabiting Westcrook.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Di! Where the fuck you been!?” A loud woman, three steel droplets under each eye, approached Diamante with a tightly gripped barbell that weighed enough to crush my ribs. She tossed it without a care, and Diamante caught it like it was a paper towel. “Lucard here thinks his form’s right, won’t believe me despite my ranking. Let number 9 show him the way!”

Number… 9?

Diamante snickered. “Alyssa, you really think a man like him deserves my time? Much less, you?”

I cringed as the woman took heavy, stomping, footsteps with the grace of a bear. She stopped just inches away from Diamante’s face, before a laugh broke out from her. “You ass! Been what, three weeks in the top ten and you got an ego now?! Who helped you spec out your back to get you in there with the deadlift!?”

Diamante pulled her in for a hug. “Whatever do you mean? Didn’t I tune your legs to get you to the top thirty? Pretty sure you’ve taken my help far more than I take yours.”

“Still keeping your arms a secret?” She patted him on the back, sending a clap of thunder through the room.

“My pride and joy, Lisa.” They let go, each of their eyes lit with a fiery spark. “Tell you what, you get that kid into the top hundred and I’ll share how to better modify your equilibrium tuning.”

“Yeesh, not making it easy for me Di. Kid’s joined only for a month, thinks he’s hot shit all of a sudden.”

“Oh believe me, I know the feeling.” Diamante joust a thumb in my direction. “Found a kid we think is worth investing in, the problem is his arm’s… well… you can see. Hubris and all that.”

My Matrix flashed into an active mental whirring as the Los Diablos woman turned to me, her smile curving into a sinister snarl. “Oooh… little boy thinks he can join the big leagues? Don’t you need a working arm for that? Must’ve gotten into a pretty nasty brawl to get it all ripped up, wait… isn’t that… Shard Op’ tech?”

Before I could respond, Diamante answered. “Never said we wanted him to fight, kid’s here to meet up with Harry. For let’s say… a job interview.”

Then he whispered something into her ear, something that caused her entire form to light up in a sadistic glow as she tried to stuff down cackles shaking the room. “Oh that’s vile. I love it.”

“Wait, what?” I finally let out. “I thought I was just getting my arm replaced.”

Topaz slid out a cheerful tone from his voice. “Don’t worry, you are. Just might get an employment out of this too if you play your cards well.”

A new job… here? That actually sounded very compelling, having access to Shardware tuned for fitness and combat would be incredible with my skills. “Oh well, fuck yeah then, where is this Harry guy anyway?”

“That’s Mr. Anderson to you.” A voice boomed out from behind me, a voice I’d only ever related to those Holovids of military training exercises where a Lieutenant was training up a bunch of new recruits. It was loud, domineering in every aspect to even rival Jacob Grazhe’s mind-piercing whispers, and when I turned around to meet the frightening voice. I saw that it was pitch-perfect to the man I’d envisioned.

A tall figure of overbearing muscle and machine, his artificial skin covered in more tattoos than I’d ever seen on a human body, curving between steel and flesh. Each limb was a mountain of wires and chords plated in smooth gray, almost pyramidal in shape but each segment was carefully arranged to allow maximum range of mobility.

He looked like he should be charging a squadron of men through a battlefield, but here he was managing Shardware instead. “Your vocal box fried, Ripley?”

Oh so he knew my name… perfect, probably knew too much about me then. I raised my voice, the Preservation Matrix within my head blanketing over the fear that should be trembling through me right about now. “Nope, completely organic. Just… truth be told you’re kind of terrifying and one arm of yours has more mass than my entire body. Was just taking it all in.”

He snorted, and that sent forth a wave of rumbling snickers and laughter through the entire gym. Mr. Anderson waved one of his hands at me, pulling my attention to a door in the back of the building. “Let’s see if you’re as good at Shard Operating as you are at being honest.”

I nodded briskly, taking a faint look at Diamante and Topaz who were… heading away from me. “Wait, you guys aren’t coming?”

Diamante didn’t have the pleasure of giving me a response, as he was already being drowned in the bodies of several muscleheads. Topaz, though, clicked his tongue and pointed at the duffel bag he’d left by my feet. “Yeah no, we ain’t babysitting you for that long. Got our own things to do, don’t worry though you’re in good hands. Just make sure you don’t do anything to piss him off.”

He gave me thumbs up, before turning into friendly conversation with people who should be at each other’s throats. Heaving the heavy duffel bag containing a part of my grandfather’s Endoskeleton, I carried it into the hallway as I followed the mountain of a man who was supposed to be my boss.

“So uh… you work here long?” This hallway was seemingly endless, and we passed by too many doors with odd alphabetical identifiers. “Bigger on the inside than I expected.”

“Nothing like those corporate gyms, believe me.” He gruffed. “Founded the place, not too long after the war.”

“Are you a veteran?” Was this guy nearly a century old like Missy?

“Yup. Born in Yellowstone back when it and Westbrook used to be one district, got drafted twice, and returned with three fewer limbs.” He pushed open a door labeled as ‘Operation’, walking me inside.

“The limbs your choice? Or not?”

“There was never a choice.” He said as he turned on the lights, the view of the room sent my heart fluttering. It was clean and sterile unlike the constant gunk of my old place thanks to The Snake Fangs contaminating it, neatly organized containers of various tools and Shardware ordered around the room.

Four Operating chairs clung to the walls of each side, each a massive bulky bed with hundreds of gizmos sticking in and out, biomonitors and Warp Energy stabilizers and more.

But one of them was unique. Where the others were huge and made to allow the Operator to alter the human body on a three dimensional axis… this one was a sleek circle with only minimal restraints. Instead, six huge spider-arms drew out from under the circle, all of them as capable as an Operating Claw.

“You have an Arachne.” My words fell in utter disbelief.

“Oh that, it’s a bit old.” He didn’t even glance at the marvel of modern engineering sitting in the corner of the theater. “Needs to be replaced one day, it’s a bit… wonky. Prototype. Not the kind that got shipped off onto the bigwigs, it’s the same type they first made in the Swarm.”

“A first generation?” This was insane, I’d never even dreamed to see one of them… but to bear witness at one of their first ever iterations? “H-how does it work? I’ve always wanted to see one.”

“I mean…” He scratched his chin, taking a comfortable seat. “You’re going to be using it, so figure it out for yourself.”

“I- hold on, I’m going to be using it?” Suddenly, my mind felt a record scratch play out. He pointed towards the duffel bag hanging from my shoulder.

“Yeah, on yourself.” He said dryly.

“You’re… not going to be doing the surgery” Then this all took a really bad turn in my head as the realization stood as proudly as the Arachne did. “How the fuck am I supposed to cut off my own arm?”

“Arachne has a bonesaw built in, just chuck it off. I know buyers for the marrow in it, you’ll get around a thousand.” He was too casual, each of the metallic orbs in his eyesockets following my shock. “Kid. No respectable Shard Op’ lets another delve into their body.”

“Right.” Clumsily, I dropped the bag. “Gotta just, whack of my own arm.”

“Correct.” He nodded… before the slightest snicker broke through his stoic wall of a face. “I know it’s overwhelming for your first time. Hell, you’re probably going to fuck up, and if you do, it’s goodbye from me.”

“Meaning… it’s a test?” I sucked in saliva through my dry throat. “I do this without you interfering and I get a job…”

“Yup.” He nodded.

“So… I want to know what I’m getting into. This job.” I unzipped the bag, pulling out the arm pieces of the Endoskeleton that we’d taken the time to recover on our drive here.

“You work for me, doing a bit of maintenance.”

“That’s not enough information.” I lifted my head, steeling my gaze over his own. “This place may be licensed, but the work done here isn’t… that much is obvious. Somehow you’re keeping the pigs from sniffing this lion’s den out. How do I know I’m not falling into a trap, this isn’t my first time.”

“Right.” He clicked his tongue, sounding entirely unimpressed. “Snake Fangs, you worked for Shaun ‘The Bloodmuncher’… I believe his name was. Kid had his head in the clouds while his feet were stuck in the mud.”

It felt weird hearing someone else call Shaun a kid, but I ordered up my various pieces. Yttrium Steel plating, the Bronze Warp Generator, an Endo-Skeleton arm and of course the External mimic of my old Shard Op’ Claw fitted for my left arm.

“The Bronze Warp Generator.” Mr. Anderson pointed at it. “What year was it manufactured?”

My mind coalesced in thought, my grandfather was born during the Fourth Swarm and most of the pieces used in the arm were several decades old. A Warp Generator, however, was much more expensive. In terms of raw value of the materials, it overshadowed each piece of the Endo-Skeleton… which meant it was older to compensate for value.

“Early 2400’s, probably around 2430.” My mind clicked on.

“I asked what year, not decade.” He stood up, walking towards me with a razor-sharp glint in his eyes. The massive compartment of his right hand steamed open, splitting apart to spawn out two separate forearms each with a Claw. One of them delicately plucked the Generator up, while his careful eyes dissected each facet of the globe. “2432.”

“That’s amazing…” To be able to determine the year of manufacturing just from a simple moment of glancing… he was a cut above many Shard Op’s.

“Being able to read isn’t amazing.” He turned the orb around, one of his fingers scratching right under a legible indent in the generator’s surface. ‘Manufacturing year: 2432’

I felt like an idiot, heat rising up to my ears. “Uh… fuck me.”

“Look Ripley, Missy cashed in a favor to have you here. To have this opportunity. That doesn’t mean you’ve won all of this already.” He placed it back down, exactly where it had been before.

“I know, it’s just… a lot’s happened and-“

“Nope don’t want to hear any of it.” He sat down, the firm squeeze of the chair to support his weight sending a shiver through me. “Two things Ripley. I never said you couldn’t look at the generator, take every bit of an advantage where you can. And second, the less assumptions you have to make — the better. Information is half the fight, execution is the other half.”

Right, right… this was an opportunity far more than I could ever ask for so I should just get this all done and-

No. I couldn’t just let myself fall for any opportunity now, I needed to fall into the best possible options. Already, I’d suffered in Shaun’s workshop believing it be the only way I could manage myself out of the hellhole I lived in, I couldn’t afford doing it again.

Take every advantage you can, no assumptions.

“Payment, clientele, work hours and expectations, training… I want to know exactly what I’m falling into. What’s this gym and clinic’s revenue and how will this operation work with my input.” The rust in my eyes was clearing a bit every day.

A small smile curled up on his lips. “Gym has four-hundred members in different tiers, labeled Iron to Gold. Silvers are afforded one Iron-Grade checkup a month, Gold have them weekly or one check on their Bronze-Grade Shardware monthly. On membership fees alone, I make around thirty Bronze Shards a month… The real money is in the checkups. I charge four-hundred for maintaining an Iron piece, and two-thousand for Bronze… but it can depend on the complexity of the cybernetics.”

I nodded as he spoke further. “In general, we get around fifteen-to-twenty checkups in a week, with at least thirty Shardware Operations a month. Other than the gym, we also get clients who’re looking for some more… extensive modifications as you know.”

Combat Shardware.

“Cosmetic implants are also a big money-maker, we work within the volume of a human body and some are open to breaking past that. While others want to keep a more organic look. All of that nets in quite a healthy sum, one I’m not sharing the details of. As for how you play into all of this…”

“I’m assuming you know some stuff about me.” I tightened my grip.

“Gold and 99% compatibility… that was the only thing that made me even consider you.” He smirked. “That Data Mimicry feature… that’s when I thought that maybe you might be worth it. I don’t know the specifics of your Shard Op’ing skills, but if you’re half of what I’m expecting then I can manage something out of you. Feature Links. If you can spread the mimicked code out into Shardware and establish a good Link, then you’re worth it even as trash. Though, Feature Linking generally requires a Dataweaving Feature if you’re going to try it at the lower Tiers. We’d have to wait until you’re Tier II to really figure it out.”

I hadn’t even considered the possibility, but it was theoretically sound. If I could mimic a Feature, I could naturally impose a Link without exhausting an Implant’s Warpcode in the process.

“Other than that, you’d be doing general maintenance work, scaling Shardware to size or altering their parameters. Nothing too fancy out of the box, they trust me… not you. But if someone comes up to you and proposes a private deal, I’m not getting involved unless it’s something that can fuck this place up… and believe me, I will know. You can also modify your own body past closing time, unless you want to work overtime, and I’ll charge on an hourly basis of two Irons Shards.”

“Nope.” I flatly declined, my heart stammering up. “I could be working on a Bronze piece at that time, two Shards for something that complex? I want it on a piece-by-piece basis. One Iron Shard for a piece of the same grade, ten for a Bronze.”

“Hourly. Three.” He barked back.

“Hourly. Eight.” A mischevious smirk danced up on me.

He puckered his lips, a perfect poker face staring down on me. “An Iron for Iron, and six for a Bronze.”

“Ten for a Bronze.” I repeated.

“Eight.”

“Deal.”

“Only if you can replace your arm.” He tore up a slight smile.

“About that, I have an offer.” It was something I’d thought of when he mentioned tiers in the gym membership. “I would like a Silver Membership.”

His face turned at that idea, and a small look of appreciation fluttered up as he realized what I was doing. “It’s two thousand a month, you’ll already have a Gold membership if you work here.”

“But I want one now.” I remained steadfast.

“Very well…” His eyes glowed for a moment, as they aligned with my own and a contract spewed into my vision… it was long. It also had an entire section dabbling into non-disclosure agreements about the Shard Op’ clinic, which I focused on…

Included in the monthly check-up:-

* Analysis of the client’s accommodation of current Shardware and proposed modifications.

* A Bronze-Grade Biomonitor analysis.

* The Operator may give an opinion on proposed modifications.

* The Operator can provide you with various Shardware options currently available to them, or put in an order for Shardware not in stock. These Shardware pieces are not included in the monthly check-up.

* Non-invasive tuning and modification of Shardware pieces.

* The first check-up is performed immediately after signing the contract, while all others need to be booked in advance by at least one week.

So I could do it… I mentally signed up the contract, briefly cringing at the price of 2,000 Shardyne a month.

It was twice the cost of my apartment. The contract closed as an alert in my Neuroframe indicated a transfer of the amount, but it had been necessary. “Guess I’ve got my check-up now then.”

“It appears that you do.” His eyes rolled. “What’s the thing you want me to look at-“

“Warp Generator. Need to fit it into my body, I was thinking of putting it into my arm but that would localize its output too much. I’d read up on it, if I want it to spread throughout my body then it needs to be within the midline of my body for equal distribution.”

“Because you want to hide the fact that Gold is running in your veins. As long as it’s within you, you can redirect your own energy’s flow to the Generator and have it’s output spread to your Shardware.” He commented, correctly.

I continued. “Only problem is that it's a heavily invasive surgery used mainly for Combat tech. Spinal modification is the most common but requires the replacement of my spinal cord, something out of my price range. Only other options are my heart and lungs, but they’re also costly and the piece I have is too large to-“

“Liver.” Mr. Anderson froze on. “Partial transplant. Quicker healing time and no cutting through bones. Even synthetic, it still has to take in large volumes of blood, so it can diffuse the Warp Energy into your blood vessels and nerves. Iron-Grade SynTec Hepatic-All good for you? Four-and-a-half if you’re buying it.”

“With surgery?” I gauged my option.

“Seven thousand.” He sent out a contract, but I declined the surgery option and just went for the purchase as my credit lowered even more.

“So you got one on you right now or…” I erred, blinking as he tapped invisible buttons in the air while the room made a weird sound all around me for around a minute. Then a ding rang out as the sound disappeared, a trapdoor within one of the walls flung open like an oven and within it was a brown-red organ around the size of my two-fists.

That was quick, and it was already around the size I’d need to fit into my body.

“You got an Energized Feature, yeah?” He motioned me over to the artificial organ which he plugged in with wires connecting up to a computer. “Installing an Engram on it, Warp Conduit. Have you ever formed a Feature Link before?”

“Once, self-established the Neural Matrix in my frame. Did it more subconsciously than with a clear goal in mind.” I rubbed the steel box on the back of my head, it was the Feature Link allowing my Preservation Matrix to hold so much control over my body alongside the Personality Matrix. Those three together governed much of my response to stimuli in such an orderly fashion.

“Yeah that’s about how all self-established ones happen. It’s like shaping water — your Features — into a specific form within the Shardware. Dataweaving is about the only Feature able to stay consistent in linking.” He pulled out a wire and held it up to me, without hesitation I plugged it into the back of my Neuroframe.

My neck flinched as my mind opened up to the liver.

Establishing connection… SynTec Hepatic-All (Liver Replacement)

Integrity: Iron II

Energy: Iron II

Capacity: Iron II

Grade: Iron II

Decription: A Synthetic Liver manufactured by SynTec; holds all normal functionality of an organic Liver, along with additional identification and breakdown of toxins. It is also capable of analyzing your bloodstream, providing real-time updates regarding blood pressure, hematocrit, and immunity.

Engram installed… Warp Conduit…

“Now… you should also understand why we don’t just hook up anybody to a piece of Shardware and use their Features to create new links for another person.” Anderson slowly inserted Iron Shards into a cylindrical device, their form dissolving as a pulse of their internal energy soaked into the liver.

I squeezed my eyes tighter as the liver unfurled fangs at me. “Because it fucking hurts!- And… incompatibility. Unless you’re using a BUG to form the link then there’s a chance that using one formed by another person could cause a digital auto-immune response.”

“But you can mimic the specific Warpcode of others…” His voice whispered out.

“I can form Feature Links on their behalf.” My eyes widened. “Claimed to have used a BUG instead… but how would I re-“

“Focus. The vessel’s the engram and your Feature is the water. The Iron Warp Energy only serves to get things moving, you need to whip it into shape.” And as he said it, I felt a bite of retaliation from the liver unless I formally linked to it then- hold on, why was I making this harder for myself?

Establishing Link…

Internal Link Established

The liver was ending up in my body anyway. And it seemed I did the right thing as Mr. Anderson humorously relaxed as though he was wondering why I waited so long. Which was probably exactly what he was thinking.

Summoning my Warp Energy, I cupped my focus on the idea of the Energized function, not pulling any specific capability of it but rather grasping the fundamental idea of it. All Features held a simple basis as their root from which they branched into a unique path for all BUG Adapters, Energized was simple.

To redirect Warp Energy beyond its conventional paths.

And that core motif drenched through the thick wire connecting me and the Liver, flowing like water in a pipe to drain into the synthetic organ. As true as he said, the Engram had already placed down the foundation for the Link, and I inebriated the Iron Grade Energy of my linked organ with the concept of Energized.

Feature Link established… Warp Conduit [Energized].

He clapped once, almost mocking in a way but I got the sense that wasn’t what he tried to convey. “You did it. Congratulations, but you were also wrong.”

Huh? “Wrong about what?”

“Why you cannot have someone else make a Feature Link for you, not if you want happy customers. You Link your Feature to Shardware, it carries your data. Linked Shardware has the same signature as their Adapter, think of it as two waves of energy of the same frequency meeting and converging under perfect conditions. Only through that method can a Feature be self-established without the use of a BUG.” He placidly disconnected the wires from my liver.

“Then…” That only confused me even more. “How the fuck am I supposed to make Feature Links for other people?!”

“You swear a lot don’t you…” He looked at me like a disapproving grandfather. “Because you aren’t using your Feature, you’re using their Feature. It'll be quality worth charging Plat for.”

“Does that…” Hold on a second. “So any Feature Link I make with a mimicked Feature can’t be… used by me?”

“Won't know it until you try, you’ll likely feel the resistance of another’s code mingling in your system. Who knows how your Unique Feature will react?” Anderson shrugged. “You’re the only Adapter I know with that sort of overarching compatibility to foreign code.”

“Also…” He added. “Should have negotiated for payment per Feature Link, would have gotten you a pretty penn-“

“A third of the cost of the BUG that would have been used to make it without my help.” I interrupted.

“We’ll negotiate that if it turns out you can do it. If you can’t… then you’ll be a good chore-boy.” He then pointed to my liver. “Now, I’ve got to get back to work, you fit in the generator and liver together, scrap up your arm and put it on yourself. You have till the end of today, gym closes 5 PM but the clinic’s open till 7. I’m giving you till 9. Take a bench in the corner office, test out the Arachne and work while you can…”

Satisfied with our consultation, Harold Anderson showed me off to a quiet corner where I got to work while, slowly, one-by-one, others filtered in for their own consultations with the operator. Once they were done, I'd have to remove my own arm, and a part of my liver.

I hoped this was going to be a long day.