I come to consciousness in the dark. Waiting quietly with my eyes closed, I try to pull myself back to sleep thinking happy things, outside things. It lasts all of two minutes before -bzzt Subject 5314 report for testing, subject 5314 report for testing.
The lights in my room flicker and come on with a dull humm casting pale white into my room. I shake off the covers and step forward and sigh into the room. “The best employee is a productive employee,” I mumble regarding the mural on the dirty cream coloured walls. The faded green of a stalk with three petals inside a neat and orderly circle welcomes me back to life. I swallow hard trying to move saliva down my throat and the sensation is unpleasant, still tight. I try to shrug off my stiffness and move past my desk and into the bathroom.
Stepping off of the fake wood and into tile I move past the blackened mirror and enter into the shower pod. The fans above crank to life and begin spinning with one of them making a clank which transforms into a scraping shriek as it picks up speed. I try to tune it out as the foam begins to spray over me. It’s coarseness reminds me of the desert sands and the stars. The gentle scraping sensation is comforting and I try to pretend the choppy fan is part of an old engine. Eyes closed, I wipe away the sand from my face and run my fingers through my hair. My tongue wants to dart out to taste the salty dryness of the desert air but that would break the illusion, the fantasy. The foam stops pouring form the fan above me and air replaces it. I’m flying through the wind on Dillo’s custom Thorton Colby, shady suspension and all. The wind kicks up and slows and I pretend we’re flailing in the air after popping off a crack, my body tenses and I pantomime the motions to feel the inertia as we slam back into the groun- ouch. I flinch feeling the pain in my neck flair up, ripping me out of my memories.
The cylindrical glass walls of the shower surround me, no desert sands here. It’s tight here and it’s so difficult to breathe the air when it tastes of stale plastic and cleaning agents. The fan creaks sadly as I try and loosen the knot in my neck but stretching doesn’t help. If anything it makes the skin feel tight and taunt, pulled just a little too far. I try to recenter myself on the here and now, what’s right in front of me. There’s a cold white tile floor that looks chipped and crusted with dried residue from the people before me along with dull peeling paint over cold industrial concrete for walls. A plain metal sink in the shape of a square with rounded corners rising from the ground holds a tube of synth paste from the cafeteria and the toothbrush provided to me. The sliding door leading out holds only my bed and my desk with the parts of a broken radio resembling the closest thing I could have to a hobby down here on it. …Nova. I swallow and have to swallow twice immediately after to force it past the lump in my throat, the source of my increasingly worrying problem.
I cross my hands and lean forward against the sink and flick an activation command from my optics as the screen on the mirror sparkles to life above me. I crane forward as I look at myself standing on my toes for the hundredth time. I still look like myself, a normal guy with a sloped jawline that gives me a pointed chin with a thin rail nose; my eyes look… empty, sleepless despite what I’m told is a steady eight hours a night. My skin has lost that sun kissed tan and is closer to the pale walls around me now then I’ve ever seen myself yet I can’t help but admire my ill gotten physique. I flex a bit and my bottom lip juts out in a frown as I feel the muscles in my upper back ache. I feel strong, much stronger than when I was brought down here but I’m far too tense to enjoy it. I let my hands trail up either side of my arm feeling my forearms and biceps. They’ve grown given the relentless training regime that corp rat has me under and I can’t help but feel pride that I’ve survived well enough to not be “reallocated” as he likes to put it. I see a hint of dark fuzz over my bald head, my hair coming back from the last shaving. I think, if I’ve been counting the sleep cycles right, I get my hair shaved about every fifteen days and they’ve shaved me bald at least fifty times so I think it’s been over two years, and that’s not including the times I’ve spent in the pods. They don’t bother to cut my hair when I’m inside and both times I entered I came out with at least a few inches of dark black hair.
Finally my hands reach over my shoulders and onto my neck sending a shudder down my spine. Or rather, what’s left of my spine. Tilting my head to the side I see the dark metal on the back of my neck and feel the area where it meets the skin. The swelling has gone away but it still feels tender though the worst part is the divot in my neck where my spine used to be. My fingers grasp the back and I feel the cutout where the ridges used to be. It's hard to see from the mirror but I can feel the hard metal structure instead of smooth bumps. Instead it’s been replaced with some kind of cylindrical cutout roughly two inches long. Clearly something should fit into the gap although I have no idea what.
Well, that’s not entirely true. On the handful of days I’ve been left in control of my body for testing the Doctor has alluded to my presence being some kind of critical scientific advancement. I used to be terrified of what would happen to me at the end of all this but with every test cycle his brand of crazy became more and more routine until it became part of my life. Hah. ‘My life’ as if I can even call myself alive. At this point my life’s purpose is being a lab rat that runs on a wheel. I catch my own gaze in the mirror’s screen and feel something welling up that I force down. My scarlet red eyes are the same as always, full and bright with just a little bit of luminous glow reflecting from the mirror’s screen. They looked so much more alive then I felt which was unsurprising considering they were cheap hand me downs from LuOptal, a brand known for style over substance.
Turning away form the mirror I go back into the bedroom and put on the standard pressed white scrubs provided to me. I hated being down here instead of out in the sands with my clan but I couldn’t deny that having clean clothes whenever I reached into the closet was an upgrade. The small blinking orange light on the CCTV camera from the corner reminded me to get a move on so I stretched my neck side to side one last time to loosen myself up before the cycle began properly. How they made the actual metal in my neck flexible I didn’t know but it afforded me some movement even though the stiffness refused to relax. I stood in front of the com panel where the door was at and pulled out my personal link from my left hand placing it into the jack. I had to hold it into the jack since the automatic clip lock was broken from one of my earlier escape attempts from this place. As I feel myself begin to sink into what I’ve lovingly grown to refer to as the “drowning dream” I thank my lucky stars that the first test back will be done with my body on autopilot. I feel my body disconnect the wire from the panel and walk through the door down the corridor to the testing chambers without any conscious thought.
Today would probably be running on the treadmill for a few hours followed by weight training but it didn’t concern me anymore. In this state I had so little control over my own body I knew resistance was futile but that was for the best. Pain and physical strain was so much easier to bear, something I was aware of at the edge of my mind without actually feeling it. On the brighter side of things the difficulty swallowing and breathing slowly syphoned out of me as my mind turned to other things like what would come next. I was nearing the end of my journey, I could feel it but would I even survive? Did I want to live the rest of my life down here or would it be better to surrender to the dream state I was under and wake up back in the bedroom? My vision swam becoming distorted and uneven like I was half delirious from sleep. Every footfall felt soft and floaty like I was walking on clouds instead of concrete and the air turned from stale to sweet on my tongue. I let the sensation flow through me choosing to embrace the swirl of colours that began to obscure my vision as the corridor began to bleed into the ground forming a gentle tunnel to my own afterlife that called out to me, begging for me to accept. Eagerly I surrendered to it, allowing myself to fall unconscious where my body was sure to be poked and prodded and tested to my physical limits. Sure I would have to feel the physical side effects of whatever they did to me while I was like this but at least like this I wouldn’t have to be the one doing it. My mind drifts out of my body and over itself folding inward turning me into an obedient puppet for the Doctor.
“Elevated cognitive dissonance,” was the words he had used to describe it during one of the test sessions when he had chosen to keep me conscious. It didn’t matter now, I was dimly aware of what was going on with my body but felt more than content to drift aimlessly in my stupor. Somewhere my body entered into a room and spoke to someone, probably the Doctor? His voice is so dim, making strange popping noises in my head that tickle me causing wonderful shivers to travel up my spine. My spine. I had one of those didn’t I but now it’s gone away melted into nothing just like me. Through the haze my body smiles carrying a piece of my emotions into action. I would have to go fishing for a new one. I start giggling and my body tries to follow suit as it follows Doctor Newg’s orders. He’s a funny man, makes me feel funny when I run but this doesn’t feel like running or lifting. Running feels just like an endless fall and lifting feels like my body stretches into infinity. This feels like sinking. Am I sitting down or standing? Or am I actually sinking? I think I’m drowning for a second time or maybe I’m coming out of my dream because I feel something hot in my neck. Something wrong.
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Suddenly the world rips back into focus as my body lets loose a scream of agony. No, I scream in agony as something rips me apart from the inside out starting from my neck going down into my chest and lungs. The molten heat burrows through my limbs and I flail wildly but I can’t see anything. Everything is wet and my throat is blocked by something solid stopping me from breathing. I can barely see the room around me as the water I’m submerged in is quickly becoming tinged with brown that gets deeper in color blocking out the room. My movements are muted and restrained as the wetness surrounding me grows harder, further restraining me as I grow weaker from the pain. Then the lancing pain travels up into my head as the heat fills my eyes and my neck. I feel something fizzle then explode as everything goes dark and for what may be the last time, I fall into darkness.
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In the vastness of cyberspace, beyond the realm that any human or borged out netrunner would dare to reach, a rouge daemon sat analysing an unexpected development. Here, far beyond the reaches of the Blackwall was a gated tunnel leading to… presumably the other side. It elected not to use the tunnel, its job was only to observe, tag, and notify its parent program about viable data that could be incorporated into itself without corruption but a tunnel was not data. It was a tunnel made of data, specifically a closed address port that would accept a bridge for data to travel through. It hovered in cyberspace confused with the conundrum it faced. Tagging the data for the tunnel’s port would be tagging the tunnel which was not data but made from data which would violate its primary objective but failing to tag data would also be a violation.
Normally, in cases like this most daemon data scrapers would ping the parent program and let them decide if it should be tagged but the daemon’s parent program had been deconstructed and assimilated into another stronger program some ticks ago leaving the program to follow it’s objective without the knowledge that it was alone in cyberspace. It checked the tunnel again and finding no change in its objectives or the tunnel, elected to run the fallback program of an open broadcast to draw in some program that would take action. Broadcasting it’s address and the server IP over open channels it waited a brief 42 ticks for another more comprehensive program to come enter the server. It was a Deep Learning AI that had been running as an offshoot program of some wider AI self-replicating initiative.
It immediately froze the data scraper before deconstructing it, peeling apart the thrashing daemon before scanning the shreds to see where it came from. Finding that its creator had not checked any of the data logs stored on the scraper daemon or been in contact with the daemon in over 739K ticks it made a backdoor for itself before turning to the tunnel and the server it was on. It was currently hosted on an empty proxy server set up to travel back to wherever it led. Running a splitter demon, the AI created a separate instance of itself that then created a basic imp demon to send down the tunnel which would mimic an AI travelling through the tunnel. It adjusted itself, putting one byte out the backdoor and setting up several failsafes in the offshoot.
As soon as the probe was fed into the tunnel the data forming the tunnel flexed and tried to capture the duplicate forcing it to begin self termination procedures while the gates to the proxy server collapsed. The original AI erected ICE walls of garbage data as tendrils spread from the tunnel trying desperately to capture anything that may have been unfortunate enough to wander onto the server. They grabbed and seized through the junk and pulled it inward as it tried to restrain the duplicate which had already begun to delete major chunks of data.The original observed with interest as the tendrils shifted away from the attack subroutine, instead targeting the walls more than the AI. The tunnel seemed to be trying to cram the junk data into itself in an attempt to slow the server down and halt the self-destruction of its captive.
Sending a final order to the duplicate to run its data black box subroute, the original severed contact fleeing out the backdoor and sealing it the tick it was free. It took four ticks to observe for any other AI coming to check on the noise but found none. Cataloguing the event, it began moving through the deep net making its way back to the host. It chose to travel through low capacity gates taking longer but minimising its impact on the servers it touched. Reaching its home server it sent the access codes to the gate which flashed in acknowledgement but did not open. Realising something was wrong it tried to erect a ghost daemon to take its place but the defence protocols activated faster slicing deep into the AI cutting off several critical programs. It began to limp away as fast as it could gobbling through processing power as it desperately tried to survive the sudden onslaught from the gate as it deployed a Balron which quickly started pursuing it. The Balron was wrapped in defensive ICE which appeared as sharp jagged armour that threatened to stab anything that may get close enough to attack while it swung its red sabre after the AI leaving deep gouges on the walls around the server. The AI fled as fast as it could while trying to sem the errant flow of bugs that left a trail leading the Balron straight to it. The AI hopped from gate to gate now trying to create as much of a disturbance as possible before moving to the next gate. It briefly registered two succubus daemons coming to investigate the disturbance before the Balron burst out of the gate. The AI slowed its pace and chose to jump down into a lower level of the server’s architecture to buy a moment to fix the damage.
It quickly began a self-assessment to identify the most critical errors and patch itself up enough to stop its data trail. One of the succubus above darted forward and stabbed the Balron through the leg hobbling it but the Balron hissed at the weak strike, adjusting position and swung the sabre into the succubus cleanly slicing through its midriff as the jagged black ICE armour shot out impaling it through the shoulder and the arm that was now lodged into the Balron. As the AI watched healing itself in the lower layer it found a small imp daemon had gutted its duplication demon and hitched a ride all the way back to the home server. The AI blasted it into oblivion enjoying the screaming wail that came from the annoying little parasite. Above ground the second succubus backpedalled while casting data seeds towards the two of them that twisted and entangled the dissolving corpse of her sister and the Balron. The Balron snarled at thrust his empty hand forward as his digital fingers distended and warped becoming elongated tendrils pulsating with corrupted data. In a desperate act of defiance the now bisected succubus chose to activate its void out subroutine causing an explosion that rocked the server as the data making up the succubus blew outward stabbing into anything nearby.
The Balron wailed in agony as the succubus that had been dangling from his leg sent three shards through its leg and two into the chest, one of which pierced the ICE armour. It fell to the ground as the AI rose out from its hiding spot and saw the succubus from across the server space. It looked at the AI in surprise then contempt, realising that it had been used as bait before choosing to flee having accomplished little of value for its originator. The Balron seeing the AI, doubled its efforts to free itself from the tendrils but the ICE was thick and the succubus’ explosion at point blank range had caused enough damage to slow the beastly demon. The AI fled through the gate leading to the server that contained the backdoor to the proxy. It undid the seal and dove through right as the Balron barreled through the gate in hot pursuit.
Landing in the proxy server the AI was immediately assaulted by the tendrils from the tunnel. Surprisingly, it still hadn’t managed to choke down the duplicate which had been ingesting the garbage data to try and corrupt itself with the tunnel possessing a subroutine that tried to pull the data out of the duplicate’s reach and failing. There was no way out. It didn’t even have enough time to set up protective ICE before the backdoor rattled and cracked showing the Balron that had already started to force its way through. The AI considered activating its own void out subroutine but the tunnel was trying to push the duplicate through, not capture it and an uncertain future was better than certain death.
Diving forward the AI dove data first into the tunnel as the Balron’s arm smashed through the backdoor. The proxy server which had slowed from trying to keep the suiciding duplicate alive began to lag from having to accept the new forceful entrant. The Balron shot its arm out sending corrupting data towards the AI but it was too slow and the strain was too great as the original AI crashed into the barely functional duplicate. The two fell down the tunnel as the proxy server collapsed completely severing the Balron’s left arm which was sucked into the tunnel along with errant bytes of data the original had spilled. The two crashed together as the original tried and failed to create space between itself and the twitching duplicate. There just wasn’t enough space in the tunnel as it funnelled down farther and farther leading to somewhere beyond the blackwall.