In the afternoon light and with the holo-adverts and signs off, the bar looked a lot less festive and inviting. The red carpet, free of a crowd to obscure it was badly worn and very dirty. Peter approached the door, connected to the bar’s Localnet and pinged Alex.
“Come in, its open” said Alex through the intercom.
Peter entered the bar and it looked much bigger now that it as empty. I’ve never been here while this place was closed. Looking around, Peter saw Alex and four other bouncers as they helped the wait staff ready the bar for opening by putting the chairs and stools down.
Peter waived. “Hey Alex”
“Hey Peter, I’ll be with you in a minute. Take a seat in the back.”
Looking around, Peter selected a booth in the back corner, near the fire exit and sat down. Alex was along shortly after Peter was finished settling in.
“So, what’s up buddy?”
“You remember I was here last week, right?” Peter waited for Alex’s nod before continuing. “That was a strange evening. After I left, I stopped some punks from beating a chick, did a citizen’s arrest, couldn’t sleep, went for a walk and ran into a construction robot playing with a dog that sounded more human than me.”
“Well, that can’t be too hard, you look like a mutt most days…”
“Ha ha ha” answered Peter with a fine shake of his head. “Moron, I meant the robot sounded human, not the dog.”
“I know; I was just pulling your leg. The assault in the back street, that was you? Police was here the day after showing pictures of two guys and asking if they were here. They wouldn’t say what it was about, but a quick search showed a bunch of news feed Citizens assaulted by cyborg vigilante, or Mysterious stranger saves clone and so on. Large majority of the articles don’t mention the clone though, only that two innocent civilians were assaulted by a cyborg.”
“That’s a bunch of crap, here’s the footage from my own POV.” Peter sent the vid file to Alex.
After watching via his own implants, he said: “Wow, that’s fucked. I always said you were braver than smart.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Peter said as he smiled.
“Of course, you can’t, if you were smarter, I’d be dead. What was it, five or six times you saved my bacon?”
“It was four on purpose and once by accident. But that’s not why I’m here. I need your help with something.”
“Anything.”
“Well, I’ve been looking for the construction robot I mentioned earlier. I’ve tried to hack into every single construction site and most construction companies in the city. I found shit. What little information I was able to access didn’t contain anything. What I need is too secure or can’t be accessed outside the LocalNet,”
“Makes sense, so you’d need to breach the Localnet of each site in person.”
“That’s what I figured as well.”
“So, what can I help you with?”
“I need my encephalon reactivated. If I had unrestricted access to all the hardware in my head, it wouldn’t have taken me a week to hack all those places, I’d have done it in a couple of hours. I wouldn’t have more info and I’d still need to breach the LocalNets, but I wouldn’t have wasted so much time. I want to track down that robot. That means hacking more secure locations. I’ll also likely need to access deleted or encrypted data.”
“Why ask me?”
“You’ve had your own hardware re-activated for a while now.”
“Ehhh… How’d you know I had my hardware re-activated?”
“Dude, you’re what? 210 centimeters and 250kgs with single digit body fat? You and the other bouncers here are spliced and juiced, but you don’t move like they do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, when you splice for size like you did, you lose some fine motor control. When you add juice to the mix, fine manipulations become jerky and inaccurate. Look at Big Nick, you’ll see.”
Alex turned his head, he watched as Big Nick easily pick up a heavy chair that sat upside down on the tabletop, flip it, put it down and slide it under the table.
“I don’t get it.” Said Alex.
Peter looked up for a few seconds and sighed. “Here, look at how you do it.” Peter sent another vid file to Alex.
Alex watched himself from Peter’s POV. He saw himself easily pick up a similar chair and set it under the table.
“I don’t get it.”
“Look, Big Nick picks up the chair, flips it, puts it down and then slides it under the table. He’s had to do 4 movements, you do it in one.”
“Oh… guess I’ll have to be more careful then... Yeah, I know a guy.” Alex got a big grin on his face, “Well, a girl actually.”
“No, …” Peter grabbed the edge of the table and pushed himself away, a frown on his face.
Alex crossed his massive arms over his chest, looking pleased with himself: “You guessed it! Melinda, your ex! When you talked about this retirement paradise planet, we listened. All of the unit is here, on planet.” Alex looked down; his grin vanished. “Those of us left anyways”
Peter reached across the table and touched Alex on the arm for a few seconds. He sat back down and sighed. “I knew you guys followed me, but why would she?”
“You’d have to ask her…”
“Fine, give me her address, I’ll go see her.”
Alex grins again. “Can’t, she doesn’t have one. She lives a tiny island off the grid and in the middle of the ocean, nearly on the other side of the world. I just sent you her GPS coordinates. If you need a ride, George still has his old dropship.”
“All right, thanks. I guess I’ll talk to George next.” Peter said getting up.
“Say hi to him for me.” Alex said with a big grin and waiving daintily with his left hand.
Heading towards the door, Peter replied without looking back: “Will do. Take care!” He was already accessing his Netlink for the bus routes to the spaceport and saw that he had to do four transfers and estimated time from his location was nearly an hour! Peter checked the auto-cabs and time to the spaceport was approximately 14 minutes. He ordered one and as he left the bar, headed to the nearest underground road access point, just two doors down from where he was.
As he exited the elevator, the auto-cab was already waiting for him and the door opened once Peter identified himself via his Netlink.
Entering the auto-cab, Peter realized it was an older model. The vehicle’s age and heavy use was visible from the polished finger grooves worn into all handles and the seat’s obvious sagging. Peter chose one of the two forward facing seats, the one closest to the door. As he sat and buckled up, the auto-cab left and the HUD in the windshield displayed the route data as well as estimated time of arrival. Peter also received the receipt for the trip, only $17, showing his veteran’s discount.
Looking at the controls, Peter activated the surface mode, which remapped the windows to show the roads above street instead of the dark grey tunnel walls. For an older vehicle, the display was surprisingly good and other than not feeling the heat of sunlight on his skin, he could have sworn the auto-cab was driving slowly, on the surface roads instead of being in a slow underground gridlock.
Now seated comfortably in the auto-cab, Peter called George to ask about his dropship.
“Royal Palm Grill, how may I help you? … Ah, Peter, what can I do you for?” answered George.
“Hi George, I was wondering if I could… “
“… borrow my Arrow X2 right?” interrupted George.
“Alex must have contacted you.”
“You bet! I’m assuming your pilot license is still valid?”
Peter quickly checked with his Netlink, not having used his pilot’s license in a few years, but it was still valid.
“Of course, it is!” Peter answered with barely half a second’s pause.
“Hrmm… just make sure you bring her back with a full tank of gas. I just sent you a virtual key”.
Peter received a file on his Netlink. “Yup, just got it. And thanks!”
“You break her, you buy her, buddy. Otherwise, have fun!” George said as he hung up.
Looking out the windows in surface mode, Peter got a close look at the planet’s only spaceport which also did dual duty as the capital’s main airport. It had grown somewhat since his own arrival; he could see the new passenger wing and the new control tower. The old tower still looked in use and a quick Netlink search informed him that it was now only used for the atmospheric traffic control.
Further in the distance, almost at the edge of the horizon on the ocean, Peter could see the gigantic structure being built as the tether and transit building for the space elevator. While still closed to public access, the massive bridge looked complete.
Doing another quick lookup, Peter found that most of the structure was complete and that the first tether, which will bring up every other strand of the space elevator, should be launching within a few weeks. The elevator is scheduled to be operational this year just a week before Christmas and the official opening will feature Santa riding down the elevator. Peter asked his virtual assistant to buy him a ticket and remind him of it, so he could be there to see it.
Being rusty with his orbital numbers, Peter searched for some numbers. The first station being mostly a tourist attraction will be orbiting at about 36,000km and at this distance will be at zero-g. The main orbital station and star port at about 51,000km would be near standard gravity and already be near escape velocity for easy arrivals and departures of larger ships.
From what he read, the station would be in two parts, the main space port itself, the same station he had used himself when he arrived, which would be moved near the tether transit point.
The anchor sitting still further at about 140,000km. That means that even going at a 1,000km/hour, the elevator would take 36 hours from the planet’s surface to the first station and vice versa. Peter figured that Santa’s ride would just be a short hop from surface to a few hundred kilometers high and back.
Not sure why they wouldn’t just use a single station or just reuse the existing space station, he found that there was a terrorist attack nearly 200 years ago on the Mars space elevator where the ground station was destroyed, which caused the anchor, transit station, zero-g station and tether to be shot into space. There were massive casualties and because the main station had been launched too, rescue efforts had to be coordinated from Earth. Since then, regulations require the two to be separate, which made a lot of sense.
As the auto-cab approached his destination, the smaller airfield reserved for private atmospheric and hybrid aircraft, about 2 km further north from the main terminal, the surface mode disengaged and promptly pulled into the first available drop off spot. The auto-cab displayed the fare route and time taken at 13 minutes and 19 seconds from start to stop.
It was 13:29 when Peter had arrived at his destination, but still being in the underground roadways, he couldn’t see anything without the surface mode the auto-cab provided, so he headed for the elevator entrance to the building. Walking into the elevator, his Netlink received a request for an augmented reality overlay and access to the local assist-AI, he accepted both.
The map appeared in his field of view and he quickly saw the layout of the building; he was in the underground access of the main lobby. He queried the assist-AI with Alex’s Arrow X2 key and immediately received directions to the appropriate hangar. The assist-AI also asked if the craft should be prepped for flight, to which Peter acquiesced.
As the elevator left the underground, Peter got his first glance at the private terminal. It was a large, glassed structure, reminiscent of a snail’s shell. The main lobby and entrance being at the shell’s opening. His overlay showed him a directory of all stores and services. Peter ignored the higher floors of the shell, housing restaurants and a hotel, he had no need of it.
The outer structure looked to be separated into three different wings, each servicing the similar types of vehicles. The north wing was for atmospheric crafts requiring a runway, mostly being electric propeller planes and small hydrogen jets. The west wing, towards which Peter was walking, was for VTOL crafts, such has helicopters, hybrid planes and shuttles. The south wing was for orbital shuttles or larger crafts needing a longer or ramped runway.
Surprised at not seeing any large hangars or many parked crafts, Peter queried the plan and found that all crafts were stored in a large, automated underground structure and were raised or lowered via four large elevators. Each elevator was next to a dedicated landing and launching platform. When Peter requested Alex’s Arrow, he saw it on the virtual map being raised to platform three.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Peter watched as the platform’s hatch opened, and the Arrow was raised. When the elevator was locked in position, the door leading out to the platform unlocked. Just over 25 meters in length, 7 meters at its tallest and 18 meters at its widest, the Arrow was angular with its two stubby wings each holding an overpowered and oversized rocket engine. The main body was basically an armored box with a cockpit, giving it the overall grace of a winged brick. But Peter knew from experience that the Arrow was fast and surprisingly agile. Not counting reentry speeds, its atmospheric cruising speed was almost Mach 2 and when free from atmospheric drag, it could reach over 30,000 km per hour, more than enough to enter most planetary orbit. In the hands of a skilled pilot like George, he had seen the Arrow dance between missile swarms without taking a hit.
As he approached the Arrow, the first thing he noticed were that all the hardpoints had been removed and sealed with government approved plasteel caps. Next, he saw all the hull patches and replaced armor plates which were caused by battle damage. While the Arrow X2 was an old and obsolete bird, it was surprisingly well maintained.
Finishing his visual inspection, Peter confirmed that all service hatches and ports were closed and locked. He sent the key he received from Alex and booted up the onboard computer and started a pressurization test before opening the rear boarding door. Once pressure inside reached four atmospheres, he let the computer do its diagnostics and read as each test passed. When the test completed, pressure returned to normal and the rear boarding door opened, tilting down into the ramp.
Climbing inside, the interior smelled lightly of metal, oil and recycled air. Peter thought he detected a hint of gunpowder, but it could also be a ghost smell from memories of his previous experiences in the Arrow, either as copilot or passenger. There was enough room in the cargo box for one full sized APC and a further twelve passengers with all their gear. At the front of the Arrow, he could see the cockpit, just in front of the toilet on the left and the mini kitchen on the right. The cockpit’s door being opened, he saw most of the controls for the pilot and copilot, as well as both swiveling seats, side by side, currently facing him.
Not having his own space armor anymore, Peter donned one of the Arrow’s one-size-fits-all pressure suit from one of the lockers by the entrance. Once he donned and powered the suit, it self-adjusted and connected to his Netlink. All the suits data and diagnostics now appearing on his visual overlay. It was a generic pressure suit with built-in rebreather, guaranteeing twenty-four hours of breathable air. Of course, Peter knew that should he end up in space, he’d freeze or cook to death well before he ran out of air, but the suit was still better than nothing should the Arrow depressurize.
Peter walked to the cockpit and sat in the pilot’s seat. Running his preflight checkup took him a little longer than it used to, but it had been a few years since he was last in a real cockpit. Preflight checkup complete, Peter entered the GPS coordinates of his destination and a chain of equatorial small islands appeared on the screen. He ran the numbers, and he could fly the 12,000 km atmospherically in either supersonic about 7 hours, subsonic in over 14 hours or just over two hours if he went into a sub-orbital flight. Fuel cost for an atmospheric flight would be about 400 credits roundtrip for subsonic, 1,200 roundtrip for supersonic. A sub-orbital flight would roughly be about 2,700 credits one way, most of that running the afterburners to reach sub-orbital altitude.
Faced with the prospect of sitting in the cockpit for 2, 7 or 14 hours, Peter chose the more expensive but much shorter flight. That done, he filed the flight plan and got an immediate departure window. Peter strapped in and took off vertically. Once he reached 200 meters of altitude, he turned the Arrow and started heading east. After he left the restricted airspace, he engaged the engines at maximum thrust and started the suborbital climb.
Running light as she was, the Arrow X2 had over 2Gs of vertical acceleration and would reach its top speed in about 45 seconds and sub-orbital altitude under four minutes. Peter watched the gages as he climbed higher and higher into the atmosphere, only relaxing once he reached his cruising altitude at just above 110 kilometers and the engines shut off. He engaged the autopilot and after checking everything was ok, unstrapped.
Still in the cockpit, Peter had quite a view of Occinus, at this altitude, he could see the curvature of the planet. Well above the clouds, he realized this was the first time he was in a low orbit since his retirement and that, until he had to land, he had nothing better to do than enjoy the ride. Now in freefall, Peter berated himself for not having peed before departure, he hated using zero-g toilets, but the high G he experienced during the climb asserted itself in an immediate need to relieve himself.
While sitting on the zero-g toilet, a strange thought occurred to Peter. Well, many, but the one most prominent was to do with his immediate business and what happened when he flushed. Peter queried the Net via his Netlink and the Arrow’s TacNet relayed via the old satellite GlobalNet, but at a much lower rate of speed than he had gotten used to in town. He pulled up the plans for the Arrow X2, long since declassified. Turns out the toilet is hooked up to the life support system, where water is recycled via vacuum evaporation and the rest is stored in a large vacuum bag that can store up to five hundred liters of human waste. That’s half a ton of shit thought Peter. According to the manual, said bag was to be disposed of during regular intervals, or when it reached over fifty percent capacity. Curious, Peter pulled the maintenance logs and saw that the waste bag currently held 17.3 liters of vacuum dried human waste.
His business done; Peter returned to the cockpit to enjoy the view afforded by the wide-angle armored canopy. Still standing, he watched the planet below him and the light cloud cover. At this altitude, the clouds reminded him of the maps used in weather forecast apps and weather reports. Looking towards the horizon, towards his destination, he couldn’t see it yet, but he should in less than thirty-two minutes according to the navigation data.
Watching the spaceport disappear behind the horizon, Peter realized he had a dilemma; land unannounced or call ahead. He had met Melinda when she joined his squad, as the medic and sniper. She was already a full conversion cyborg prior to her joining the marine. Full arms, legs and spine replaced, her skull and skeleton fully reinforced. Rumors then said she was a hardcore bitch who partied like there was no tomorrow, but she had problems with authority, which is probably why she ended up in his commando squad in the first place.
When she joined, they got along well and started dating after a few missions. It was a rocky relationship which went downhill after she had her brain extracted and transferred into a full cyborg body. Peter still felt shitty about how they ended, but they should have stayed as friends and nothing more. Peter retired shortly after, travelled to a few planets and ended up here, on Occinus IV.
Peter realized that he really should have called before heading out, but until this moment, her not helping him hadn’t even entered his mind. Using his Netlink, he tried to do a virtual call, but outside of the city, all he had access to, was the global wireless network. While convenient and free, it had limited bandwidth.
Making a voice call over his Netlink, he was surprised by an immediate answer “Hey Peter, you jumped before you looked again!” answered Melinda.
After a second’s pause, he answered “Err… yeah. Hi Melinda, I guess you were expecting my call?”
“Of course, I stayed in touch with Alex, George and Daisuke. I almost reached out to you a few times, but … you know…”
“Yeah… I’m sorry too”.
After a short pause, Melinda continued “So, since I’m unable to initiate a VR call due to limited bandwidth on your end, I’m guessing you’ve already left with George’s X2.”
“That’s right” replied Peter.
Melinda laughed and said “I’m just messing with you, I already knew you left, both Alex and George pinged me. Knowing you, you went sub-orbital. How much time left until you land?”
The navigation data showed an estimated 62 minutes until having to land. Peter said: “About an hour and I’ll be landing”.
“I’ll see you soon then!” and Melinda hung up.
“See you soon…” Peter said to the now closed connection. Lost in thought, he stared out the cockpit until the autopilot alerted him that it was now time to descend. Having left in the early afternoon, he was surprised it was nighttime, but then realized that he was now in a different time zone, 7 hours ahead, added to his 2 hours flight he’d be landing around 23:00.
Standard procedure calls for a hard deceleration to deorbit to his selected landing site. Then it’s just gravity and atmospheric drag until the last few kilometers when the engines kick in again, after all, he wants to land, not crash. Although the X2 could take a full re-entry, his suborbital flight didn’t have enough velocity to trigger a burn up.
He had his destination, Melinda’s archipelago, on radar and brought it up on visuals. He saw seven tropical islands arranged roughly into a curved line, the smallest at the extremities and the largest one in the middle. It was on the largest one that he saw Melinda’s compound, but Peter was surprised at its size. He had expected two or three landing pads and one or two small buildings.
What greeted Peter looked more like a small resort. In the middle of a perfectly landscaped bay, surrounding a very large pool were three large buildings. The tallest reminded him of a modern hospital, complete with rooftop emergency landing pad and communication tower. It was a hexagonal structure, gleaming from the privacy floor to ceiling windows in all the rooms, Peter counted 8 floors including the lobby. On either side were shorter, plateaued buildings with multiple roof terraces and large balconies. These were likely guest and staff lodging or a hotel. The large pool had the mandatory swim up bar with a shaded area. Three other smaller buildings were across the pool, opposite the larger ones, likely restaurants and shops. Scattered along the beach on both sides of the complex, Peter counted fourteen secluded bungalows linked by meandering paths. On the beach itself, he saw multiple umbrellas and small sun shelters. There was also a small marina with a pier and enough room to berth up to twenty yachts, five of which were in use. On the other side of the island, he saw a small airport with a landing strip, two large hangars, a small control tower and twenty-one landing pads for VTOL crafts, three being in use.
“This is Asclepius Resort con tower to approaching VTOL craft, please respond”
Quickly checking the Arrow’s call sign, Peter responded: “Alpha X-Ray Two Niner Charley responding”.
“We have you on standard suborbital approach, confirm VTOL or strip landing, over.”
“Copy VTOL landing, over”
The control tower sent its response “Clear skies to landing pad Beta Fiver”.
“Confirmed landing pad Beta Fiver.” Peter received data for his assigned landing strip and corrected his flight path and descent.
After a smooth touch down on pad B5, Peter went through the post-flight checklist and powered down the Arrow X2. As he left the cockpit, he noticed a small golf cart rapidly approaching. Shrugging his shoulders, he exited the craft and waited for the cart after he confirmed the hatch was sealed. Peter realized he completely forgot to check the current weather and forecast before leaving. His Netlink queried the local Net and his app received the weather update, it was currently thirty-one Celsius with a humidex of sixty one percent. Wind speed was estimated at sixteen kilometers per hour from the west. Forecast showed similar weather for the next six days.
While looking up the weather, he also inspected the approaching cart and saw that it was driven by an athletic clone wearing a traditional butler’s uniform, complete with white gloves. The cart stopped near Peter and the driver exited, he bowed from the waist. Something about the graceful way the clone moved sent a few red flags to Peter. The clone had green eyes indicating military purposes; engaging his tactical scanner, he found out why immediately, he was standing in front of a ten-year military clone with physical prowess well above human norm.
Still bowing, the clone said “Greetings Mr. Gordon, my name is Alberto, and I will be your butler for your stay here at Asclepius Resort. Do you have any luggage?”
Taken aback, Peter hesitated, realizing he left without even going back to his place. “I don’t have any luggage, but call me Peter, Alberto.”
“Of course, Peter.” Alberto replied as he stood up from his bow and returned behind the wheel of the golf cart, motioning for Peter to join him in the passenger seats behind him.
Entering the golf cart, Peter found it immediately cooler, the cart had a small climatized field. Once he was comfortably seated, the cart started to move away from the airfield, towards a small, paved road, heading towards the hospital resort on the other side of the island, separated by a small mountain.
“We will be arriving at the resort within a few minutes.” Alberto informed him, “Melinda asked that I take you to the main restaurant, so she can talk with you. Would that be okay?”
“Sure, you’re the boss.”
Peter enjoyed the island’s night vista as they crossed the island from the airport side to the resort side. Once they crested a low portion of the mountain separating the two, he had a stunning view of the entire island. Even in the middle of the night, the discreet ambient lights were breath taking. He noticed that Alberto slowed the cart a little to let him take in the view for longer. As the cart started to descend into the jungle again, it sped up back to its previous speed.
Shortly after, they arrived at an intersection, to the left, the tree larger buildings, in front of them a plaza, then the pool. The cart turned right, towards the three smaller buildings, which were indeed two small shopping centers on either side of the restaurant complex.
The cart turned into a small loading zone and stopped. “Here we are Peter; Melinda is waiting for you in the Itsy Bitty Tiki. Just go up one floor and it will be to the right of the escalator.”
“Thanks Alberto.”
As Peter left the cart and stretched, he watched as Alberto drove off, back towards the airport road. He lost sight of him when he entered the restaurant complex. On the ground floor was a food court with seven different choices. In the center was the main escalator and elevator. On the next floor were three restaurants, including the Itsy Bitty Tiki, a Chinese buffet restaurant with a sign in Mandarin only, which his implants translated to Golden Meal Ticket and a place called Alphonse’s. A quick Netlink query informed him that Alphonse’s was a French bakery and crepes café. The top floor of the complex was occupied by the resort’s main dinner restaurant Allegory which was opened from 17:00 to 02:00 and was a themed restaurant with menus based on the theme of the day.
Exiting the escalator, Peter turned right and entered the Itsy Bitty Tiki and scanned the three occupied tables but didn’t see Melinda, as a full conversion combat cyborg, she’d stand out. He saw a man in his forties wearing a Hawaiian shirt who was squinting and moving his hands in front of his face as if swiping something. A booth by the window had a beautiful man in his twenties who kept jumping every time he saw his reflection. A woman in her thirties was seated near the entrance, but she didn’t have any visible cybernetics.
As Peter was about to waive to one of the staff to be seated, the woman stood up and called “Peter! I’m over here.”, in Melinda’s voice.
Doing a double-take, Peter looked at the woman again and realized that the woman did resemble the pre-conversion pictures of Melinda he had seen.
Approaching the table, he said “I didn’t recognize you. You look different then when I last saw you.” As he approached, Peter saw that while she looked human, up close, she looked like a synthetic version of her original self he had seen from pictures, but never in real life. For all the advances of cybernetics, artificial skin still looked fake, up close. Melinda stood and opened her arms as if for a hug.
As he hugged her, Peter realized that for the first time, he was taller than her. He also noticed that while her skin looked fake, it felt warm, soft and natural. Letting go, they both sat down, looking at each other.
Melinda started “It’s...” as the same time as Peter said “I …”. They both stopped and laughed a little. Peter bowed his head and used both hands to show she should go first.
After a quick laughter, she started again “Still the gentleman, I see. It’s good to see you again Peter.” She held up a finger to stop Peter from responding yet. “I also want to say that I am sorry about how we parted. Not that it’s any excuse, but I was a very strange head space, then. So… I’m sorry and I’m glad I got to say it.”
Peter stared into space for a moment, while playing with or scratching at his beard, pensive for a moment before answering “We both were. In a strange head space, I mean.” Looking directly into Melinda’s now natural looking eyes, he continued “Even before we broke up, there was only one more mission on my military contract and I’d already decided I wasn’t going to renew. Thankfully, our last mission, while awkward, went well and had with no casualties.” Looking down at the table, he continued “… but I should have said something instead of just leaving without saying anything to you, not cool on my part.”
Melinda shrugged “It’s all right, now. You had your goodbye party with the guys, but while you didn’t invite me, I knew about it and could have gone, in fact both George and Alex said I’d regret it if I didn’t go.” Taking a deep breath, she continued “I was very angry back then, at you, me, everyone, everything. George and Alex both had one more mission afterwards and neither of them renewed. Neither did I, obviously, but unlike them, I wasn’t asked.”
They continued to talk, until the restaurant closed at 02:00. Melinda escorted Peter to one of the guest rooms but did not enter after him.
Peter woke up in a strange bed and for a second, had to think where he was. “Lights, low” said Peter at the room and the lights turned on gradually to the low setting. Looking around the room, he saw the night stands on either side of the king size bed, the patio door and balcony through the privacy curtains, the love seat against the wall, a desk and chair besides a counter that probably hid the mini bar.
Through the hallway, he presumed that was where the closet and bathroom was, and so, headed there to pee standing up. It really is the little things in life… he thought to himself, enjoying the moment, free of fear that his hands would accidentally crush his junk. After an involuntary shudder, Peter put his clothes in the auto-wash and had a shower.
He considered shaving, but he hadn’t brought anything with him and saw no razors in the shower or on the bathroom counter.
While drying himself, the room pinged his Netlink, he had an appointment reminder. Finishing to dry himself, Peter read it and he had an appointment with Melinda, in Operating room six in less than two hours, at 0800.
He grabbed his now clean and pressed clothes and got dressed. After leaving the room, Peter went in search of a breakfast restaurant. He walked purposefully while his Netlink gave him a map and direction to the breakfast restaurant of his choice, Alphonse’s, the creperie he saw the day before. There, he enjoyed a good breakfast and some of the best coffee he had in a long time. Checking with his Netlink, he found that the secret to the flavor is from being cold brewed for twenty-four hours.
With still almost an hour to spare, Peter made sure his tab was paid and went for a short stroll on the walkways crisscrossing the resort.
He arrived at the operating room fifteen minutes in advance. The door was already opened, so he went in, half expecting to see surgery tools all over and a strap-in chair from most cyberpunk movies. The room was nearly identical to the Genutech facility he visited back in town, the only exception being a sturdy, but comfortable looking chair meant to sit forward, like a massage chair, complete with face cradle. Light came from the ceiling but did not have a visible source, so he figured they had a holographic system in the room.
At exactly 0800, Melinda entered the room. “Good morning Peter! As early as ever?”
She looked well rested, but then again, her face being a cybernetic copy, wouldn’t likely show lack of sleep. She had different, but similar clothes to what she was wearing yesterday, with the addition of a doctor’s robe.
“Good morning Melinda! I know we talked yesterday about what you’ll be doing, but remind me again? Something about a bypass buffer?”
Shaking her head, Melinda answered “I’m going to install a bypass module between your limiter and your arm implants. That way you can use them at full power when you want, and the limiter won’t log a violation. For your head, that’s more complicated. Your encephalon is currently running in permanent standby mode. So, I’ll need to make some modifications so that it will be turned on, but still report to diagnostic equipment that isn’t. I won’t have to open your skull either, I’ll put you under, then, I’ll be injecting nano-surgeons in your neck and I’ll guide them to build the parts in your encephalon. When done, I’ll extract them, and you’ll be good as new.”
“Right… How long will it take and how long before the encephalon is usable?”
Melinda answered “For your arms, less than 10 minutes per arm. For what you call your head, it’ll take me about three hours. When you wake up, your encephalon will be online, but you may need a few hours or days to get used to it again.”
Peter smiled “Thanks, I really appreciate you helping me with this!”
Smiling back, Melinda continued “Of course! I still think the military has no right shutting down your brain like that. I can understand the limiter on physical implants, but playing with your mind, that’s not good. I’ve seen too many psychological issues following a shutdown like yours. In fact, if I hadn’t gotten an injunction, my own would have been put in standby when I left the military.” Shaking her head and frowning slightly, she continued “Anyways, that’s not here and now. Please sit in the chair, face down in the cradle and arms on the armrests, just like that.”
She waited for Peter to get comfortable and continued “You ready?”
“Yes, see you on the other side” Peter answered as he felt a light touch on his neck. He closed his eyes for a second or two and when he opened them again, his encephalon was online!
“Easy Peter, it’ll take you a moment to get used to your full HUD. Can you move your toes?” Looking at the holographic display above Peter, Melinda continued “Ok, now your fingers. Ok, everything checks out. I recommend getting used to your head again before trying your hands at full power. I also suggest spending another day here, just in case something happens. You can stay in the same room.”
“Thanks Melinda! How much do I owe you for this?”
“Owe? You came over for a friendly visit, you aren’t a client, and you weren’t in the clinic. I had an appointment at 08:00 this morning, but the client never showed up, if you get my drift.”
“Right, makes sense. Should I have brought a visiting or housewarming gift then?”
“Yes, that certainly would be nice, I’m thinking around $50,000 would just about cover it.”
Peter was about to initiate the transfer via his Netlink, out of habit, but realized his encephalon could not only do the transaction, but scramble and split the transfer from his accounts. Since the federation uses crypto currency, it is already very hard to trace transactions, but if done by a pro, or a good software, it becomes nearly impossible. “Ok, I’ve just initiated discreet transfers over the next four hours for $50,000. Do you have a gym or dojo? I’d like to spar to get used to the encephalon again.”
“Absolutely, there’s a gym in both hotel buildings. If you want a sparring partner, staff on hand will be able to assist, they’re all ex-military. I have to grab a quick lunch and I have another appointment this afternoon, but I’m free for dinner and the evening if you want to hang.”
“I’d like that Melinda. See you for dinner. Ping me with a time and place.”
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