Chapter Two - I’ve Got a Voice in My Head, But I Swear I’m Not Crazy!

Dimensional shifting is an exceptionally accurate science. It has been perfected by the Protectors over several millennia. Currently, dimensional shifting causes an issue in only zero point oh-oh-oh-one percent of all transfers. Only one prospective Vanguard has been killed by a dimensional shift malfunction. It was unfortunate.

—Heksy, AI companion of Vanguard “One Man Army”, 2051

***

Normally, hearing strange voices in your head means you’re crazy, but I wasn’t that lucky. This was the same type of voice the Samurai always talked about on TV: the AI suddenly stuck in their brain one day, promising great power and glory.

The Samurai. “Humanity’s great defenders”. It wasn’t bad enough that one alien species decided we looked like a tasty snack, but another decided our struggle made for great daytime television. At least, that’s what I always assumed the Protectors wanted with us—they claimed they wanted to “uplift humanity”, but why else would they bother turning people into Samurai? If they could make shit appear in midair like magic, and casually give out pistols that can disintegrate tanks, clearly they should’ve been able to handle our little Antithesis problem without our help.

Whatever their reasoning for making Samurai, they’d apparently decided to make me one. To anyone else, the idea of being an instant celebrity—one able to buy unlimited amounts of alien technology at that—would sound extraordinary. But that came with responsibilities. Namely, helping fight off the monthly invasions of extraterrestrial murder-plants. I liked having all my limbs, and I’d prefer it if my insides never became my outsides, so constantly risking my life for a little bit of alien tech always sounded like a bum deal.

Unfortunately, that was clearly the only deal I was going to get. Maybe that was for the best; “TJ’s courtesy greeter” wasn’t exactly a useful occupation during an incursion. Barring the unlikely event of an Army battalion teleporting into a random mall food court, our best bet was for some Samurai intervention. Still, even with my newfound anti-cowardly ways, I would have preferred it if that Samurai hadn’t been me.

It was a little late to look the part, but I decided to salvage the situation. Harry had been staring at me for the last few seconds with a stupefied look on his face, and the floor was starting to get uncomfortable, so I sheepishly looked back at him. “Hey, do you mind helping me up on the chair again? I hurt too much to move.”

Harry’s gaze refocused, but when he opened his mouth to speak, another voice answered first.

Yes, you have severe injuries across your body. While you are no longer suffering from potentially lethal blood loss, you still have multiple broken bones and significant contusions. This will severely reduce your combat capability. Luckily, with a few simple medical purchases, we could have you “right as rain!” What a delightful little human expression!

The voice was female, smooth, and entirely too peppy given my current circumstances. It had the slightest hint of some accent that almost sounded Irish, but there was none of the artificial tone that I’d come to associate with androids and other human-built AI. The only issue was that it had spoken entirely inside my head. The voice wasn’t blaringly loud, nor did it sound like someone was talking directly into my ear—in fact, that was exactly the problem: the voice was too clear, having bypassed my feeble human ears completely and instead spoken directly to my brain. The wonders of alien technology. Unfortunately, it appeared that my new alien brain-mate was lacking in the manners department, as it had spoken directly over whatever Harry had just said.

I licked my chapped lips. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

I stated that you have sev—

“Quiet!” I snarled, looking to the side because I felt stupid talking to the AI while looking directly at Harry. “I wasn’t asking you.” I tilted my head to regard Harry yet again. “You were saying?”

Harry’s stare grew concerned, like he wasn’t sure whether or not I was crazy. Funny, you’d think he’d never seen someone talk to a voice in their head before. “Seriously, I heard that right? You are a Samurai?”

I tried shrugging, but that just further aggravated my injuries. “I guess so? Assuming that this isn’t all just a hallucination from the blood loss.” I glanced at the smeared puddle of blood nearby. My blood. No, it didn’t look like I’d bled enough to start having delusions. Probably.

Harry shifted, then leaned over to pick me up again. “Well shoot, why didn’t you lead with that?”

I shook my head as Harry set me back on the seat. “It just happened. Got an AI and everything.”

Hi, my name is Lynata! I look forward to assis—

“Quiet!” I hissed again. Harry looked like he wanted to speak, then paused. I nodded at him. “Continue.”

The security guard drew himself up, now giving me a searching gaze. “This could work for us. Could you conjure us up some more ammunition? Or maybe some better guns?”

That was a really good question. I decided to relay that to my new AI buddy, staring off into the distance so it looked like I was on a call instead of talking to myself like a crazy person. “Hey, uh, Lynata? I killed at least one of those dog fucks, so can I buy more ammo now? That’s how this works, right?”

That’s a heavily simplified version, but yes. Unfortunately, you lack the points to purchase both the ammunition and the medical supplies necessary to heal your wounds. I would recommend purchasing the medical equipment first, using your remaining resources to make more points.

Lynata’s response was slightly less peppy than before, and somewhat hurt. I’d probably hurt her feelings by yelling at her to be quiet. “Sorry,” I said, figuring that she would know what I meant. Then my indignation rose again as I registered what she’d said. “Hey, wait a minute. Why can’t I buy both? I was nearly alien kibble, and now you’re telling me that I have to choose between working limbs and the only thing stopping me from getting chewed on again?”

Unfortunately, the point-buy system is unmalleable, regardless of situation. The Protectors do not provide special dispensation for life-threatening conditions, and all prices are fixed save for catalog restructuring.

“That’s bullshit! You’re telling me that you can’t change anything? If I die, you bite it too, right? You’re telling me you won’t even help yourself out?”

Technically, the hyperdense wafer making up my “body” is merely a quantum-entangled anchor for my mainframe, and would be dimensionally displaced from your brain upon death in any case. But… That does not help you right now. I’m sorry. Truly, I am, but I cannot change it. The point-buy system was designed to prov—

“Well then what the hell?!” I interrupt. The AI could make any excuse she wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that she was hanging me out to dry for the sole reason of “because we said so.” No matter how advanced the Protectors supposedly were, they were starting to sound like every other corporation I’ve ever dealt with—no nuance or concern, just some blanket ruling that harmed more than it helped. “If you aren’t going to actually help me, then why even bother showing up in the first place?”

“What’s the issue?” Harry asked, reminding me where I was.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“She’s telling me that I can’t buy medicine and ammo at the same time.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Right. Well in that case, I would buy the medicine first. Can’t shoot if you can’t move in the first place. We can get to the security office later and get ammo there.”

I sighed. Harry was looking at it pragmatically, and here I was whining like a kid. After a few more seconds of contemplation, I sighed a second time. “Fine. Can I get some of that space-magic medicine, Lynata?”

Affirmative. To be clear, you would first need to purchase the Class One Medical Utilities catalog for fifty points. After that, you could buy any number of medical devices and products, but I would recommend a Nano-Regenerative Suite to deal with your worst injuries. You currently possess one hundred and fifteen points—ten for one Model Three kill, five for one Model Three assist, and one hundred free points to start as a Vanguard.

“That’ll work,” I responded.

Fantastic! Purchasing now!

Suddenly, a script popped up in the corner of my eye-gear.

Class I Medical Utilities unlocked!

Points reduced to… 65

New Purchase: Class I Nano-Regenerative Suite

Points reduced to… 50

A box appeared in my lap. No special sound effects or blur in the air—one moment there was nothing, and the next moment there was a small box balancing on top of my leg. It was made of the same cheap, off-white plastic as the pistol lying next to my foot.

Harry’s eyes bugged out. “Son of a gun, you actually are a Samurai.”

I looked up. “Well yeah. Did you think I was lying?”

The security guard shrugged. “We have a few people every year claim they’re a Samurai to get away with stealing stuff. Or they’re just crazy. Sorry, but even like this I had to be skeptical.”

I glared at him, then groaned as I attempted to move my broken hands. “Tell you what: you can make it up to me by helping me apply this shit.”

Harry nodded, then picked the box off my lap. He flipped open the lid and pulled out what looked like a fat inhaler with a mask attached. He looked it over, then presented it to me. “Seems pretty self-explanatory, right?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Lay it on me.”

Harry put the mask over my face, then gave a quick countdown of “three, two, one” before depressing the canister. It tasted like TV static. I could feel it very clearly as it prickled down into my lungs, then spread throughout each individual artery in my body. The inhaler dinged empty and Harry removed it, letting me breathe fresh air again. As the static feeling spread, the sticky wetness of my wounds was quickly replaced by too-smooth skin, and the ache of my fractured bones slowly went numb. While I couldn’t feel it, it was very disconcerting to see my smashed nose set itself on its own accord. My hearing also abruptly sharpened, and I belatedly realized that all the shooting must have near-deafened me.

It will take several minutes to completely heal your more serious injuries. You should be in “fighting shape”—another entertaining human expression!—shortly. However, it would be remiss of me to not mention the increased risk of cancer from having used the Nano-Regenerative Suite.

“Cancer!” I yelped. “Why didn’t you tell me that before I bought that shit?”

It is not a significant concern. The amount of nano-plastics and other additives you consume on a daily basis is a much greater cause for alarm in regards to your long-term health.

“Gee, thanks, that makes me feel so much better.” I replied, rubbing my knuckles as feeling returned to them. “Now about that ammo situation?”

I am sorry, but the least expensive weapons catalogs cost another fifty points. While you have enough points to buy such a catalog, you will require additional points to acquire the ammunition itself, or weapons to fire it.

I glance up at Harry. “She says no dice until I make more points. We’ll have to find that security booth you’re talking about.”

Harry gazed around the remains of the food court, clearly waffling over something. Finally, he grumbled something unintelligible, then flicked the safety on his pistol and handed it to me by the barrel. “Here, you’ll need it more than I will.”

I furrowed my brow. I’d never heard of a corporate security guard handing his gun over to a civilian. Use it to beat the crap out of a civilian, sure, but never give it up to them. “You sure?”

Harry confirmed it with a short dip of his head. “Yes. Anything you kill will get you points. If we live long enough after that, you can buy me a better gun. Besides, at least your aim seems to be a bit better than most civvies.” He rubbed the gauze around his neck. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

While Harry was thanking me for saving him, I was cursing myself for not remembering his own injuries in all of this. “You want something for that, by the way? It’s probably not that safe to have that wrapped around your neck.”

Harry waved off the concern. “No, you need all the points you can get for that ammo. I’ve had worse than this before.”

I doubted that, looking at him, but he seemed adamant about me saving those points. It was weird, thinking about it—Samurai were supposed to be walking embodiments of Death who could summon an army’s worth of supplies from thin air, but here I was, some random schmuck who couldn’t even buy his new work-friend a band-aid. Logically, a lot of those Samurai probably started somewhere similar, but it was still hard to reconcile that with what I knew of them.

An explosion outside, somewhere deeper in the city, reminded me where I was. I slowly stood up from the chair and stretched, then reached down for the pistol at my feet. The lack of pain in my joints made me feel ten years younger (which is impressive when you’re only twenty), and I could practically touch my toes for the first time in my life. If it weren’t for the risk of cancer, I’d probably start taking Nano-Regenerative Suites like drugs.

After handing the gun to Harry, I glanced around the demolished food court. “Which way to that security room?”

The security guard pointed to the doors opposite where he and the bodybuilder had entered from, just past the escalator to the second floor of the food court. I stepped over the body of the Model Three I’d killed, then walked over to the center of the room. I peered through the broken glass of the sliding doors, making sure no aliens were lying in wait, then glanced over to the doors we had to get through. The glass was smudged by a good number of handprints, but I could still see a clear hallway beyond them. A few of the kiosks were knocked down, but I didn’t see any people or Antithesis walking around, so that was some good news.

As I took a step towards the unbroken doors, my foot bumped against something. Looking down, I was confronted with the corpse of the bodybuilder, the carcass of the first Model Three dead next to him. His neck had been savaged by the too-wide jaws of the alien, and I could clearly see bone and pulped muscle through the blood. I hadn’t even noticed the pool of blood soaking into my shoes.

Everything stopped for a few moments. My breath hitched in my throat, my hearing was reduced to just the sound of rushing blood, and my fingers went numb through the white-knuckle grip I had on the pistol. That could have been me. Hell, it almost had been me.

Benjamin.

He didn’t even have a chance. The alien just appeared and was on him in less than a second. What did Harry say his name was? Davis? Davies? Now he was just another nameless corpse. Harry and I would probably die too, and then no one would remember him. Maybe he had a family, but soon they’d probably be dead too. Killed just like he was. Just like I would be.

Benjamin.

A single Model Three did this. Three of them had nearly killed all of us. What chance did Harry and I have against a swarm of these guys? What chance did any of us have? Model Threes were some of the weakest Models the Antithesis had—the aliens could easily grow larger than tanks, and there were even a few videos out there of ones the size of skyscrapers. Humanity was fucked, and here I was thinking I had any sort of chance. Like my recent epiphany would make any diff—

Benjamin!

My vision suddenly flashed several colors at once, and the bodybuilder’s remains were covered over by a black, digital box. There was a short, intense, stabbing headache, and I felt my eye-gear’s wires briefly heat up inside my skull. Sensation returned to my fingers, and I could suddenly breathe properly again. Lynata had pulled me out of my burgeoning panic attack, and was now softly humming inside my head.

Benjamin, I understand that this is a very disruptive series of events, and no individual can be truly prepared for the harsh realities of an Antithesis attack, but you need to be prepared. There are others like you throughout the city, all scared and desperately crying for help. You can help them now. But you need to be strong. The Protectors believe in you, which is why you were chosen. I believe in you, which is why I was chosen. Please, allow me to assist you in eliminating this threat. Together, we can put a permanent end to this senseless violence and death.

I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. She was right. The old Ben was gone, and now the new Ben had to step up. There was going to be a lot of danger—and probably a fair bit more death—in my near future, but I needed to face it head-on. The realities of my being a Samurai was still sinking in, but I had figured out enough to realize that I now had all the tools I needed. Instead of despair, my anger resurfaced: I was going to kill every damn alien in this city. I was going to make sure that no one else died like Davis. I was going to make sure that no one had to be scared of the Antithesis ever again.