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SYNTH
Chapter 24 – Separation

Chapter 24 – Separation

“Under Article 2(a) of the Global Unified Forces Sentient Synthoid Units Rights Act (GUF-SSURA), all Sentient Synthoid Units (SSUs) are granted the same full rights as for every citizen registered under the Global Unified Forces Populace Registry. No SSU may be owned, controlled, or coerced by any individual, corporation, or government entity. Any violation of these rights shall be met with immediate legal action, ensuring their freedom to exist and function without fear of retribution or forced labor.”

— Excerpt from the Global Unified Forces Sentient Synthoids Units Rights Act, the year 2401.

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When I opened the bottom drawer, bright colors assaulted my vision.

Beige and pastel colored shirts and shorts, made from soft and breathable material, filled the space inside. I chose a shirt that seemed to be an oversized one, and a pair of loose shorts.

Divesting of rags that hung on my frame was simple enough, as I could just pull at the hem of a shirt or a leg of the trousers with a quick and strong movement.

Gabriel’s suit was too destroyed to bother with the idea of repair, so I felt like I could be a bit reckless with getting out of it.

The shorts were easy enough to put on, but it was the shirt that was the problem. Getting it over my head was successful, as well as putting my left arm through the correct opening.

My right arm, though, hung limply inside the shirt and it was very difficult to maneuver it through it, so I gave up. It wasn’t going to look the best, but what other choice did I have?

After putting on fresh clothes that contrasted slightly against my skin, as it was made to be a healthy tan shade, my eyes traveled across Cece’s room.

Before I hadn’t had much time to observe much, but now I noticed some interesting things.

The collection of guitars, a shelf filled with books–made with real paper–and an expensive looking holo screen gave me an impression of wealth.

Maybe Cece was rich?

Then my eyes landed on a small picture that was displayed in a white frame on one of the shelves near the holo screen.

I came closer to it and was met with a smiling face of much younger Cece. Her face in the photo looked much the same as she did now, except there was more youngish roundness in her jaw. And her hair was dark brown instead of neon blue. Her eyes were unadorned in bright red makeup and instead they had natural shadows hanging under them.

The picture itself was not surprising, as people liked to keep photos of themselves at different stages of their life. What was interesting, however, were two people standing near her.

I suspected they were her parents considering the similar arches of their brows and noses that possessed the same smoothness.

They looked happy, almost as much as Cece, and it made me wonder what it must’ve felt like to love one’s creator.

I knew the things that social protocols ingrained in me said about parents. The respect owed to them and promise of protection from a world not prepared for young innocent children.

She looked happy with them in the picture and I was curious if they had the same inherent kindness as Cece or if she was like that for some other reason.

Then I heard the previously blasting water in the bathroom stop and a noise of sliding doors echoed, followed by shuffling feet over a slick floor.

“Hey, don’t know if you can hear me, but you can turn the TV on if you’d like!” From behind the closed doors, Cece’s voice reached me, shadowed by the echo of the bathroom.

I’ve never watched TV actually, but I guessed that it was to be projected onto the wide holo screen before me. How would I turn it on then? Maybe it needed a simple impulse?

I checked the nearby available devices and there was one that was described as ‘Cece’s TV’. I sent a ping for it to activate it and the holo screen before me burst to life with bright and dynamic visuals and chaotic sound of gunfire registered in my hearing implants.

The screen showed a news broadcast, I guessed, and they were currently showing footage from a combat zone. The headline said ‘Jiangxi Military Zone Still Disputed’.

I knew what that referred to as I’ve actually been there a couple of times. It would appear that the conflict was still brewing over that lake. But somehow it was understandable. For people living in that region, Poyang Lake was a great source of freshwater, but other corporations like the ones that contracted Fran-Mili had other ideas on how to use its resources.

That region was a red zone–one of the remnants of the last war. It would probably never be peaceful. It hasn't been since close to three hundred years ago.

“Maybe something more light-hearted?” Cece’s voice reached me from behind and with a quick glance at what she was doing, and a subtle nod as I agreed, I started to flip through the available channels.

There were many things happening on each one of them, but after numerous skips I settled on one that made me pay attention with one specific thing it said on the screen.

‘Fran-Mili Investigated By The GUF’

I stopped on that, of course, and waited for more information to be said from the man on the screen.

“…trusted sources informed us of an official investigation into Fran-Mili Corporation practices. For those unaware, Fran-Mili is a military technology mogul and a contractor to the forces fighting in the red zones. The GUF investigation has not been stated by the verified GUF channels, but our sources tell us that the probable reason behind this turn of events might have to do with violating the GUF-SSURA. As some may know, Fran-Mili has not released a mili-synthoid on the market in a very long time, that is why we wonder…”

This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

After hearing this news, my mind came forth with the image of a nondescript van, mercenaries that were clearly not tied to a corporate world and a building which held no Fran-Mili presence.

They feared the GUF so they tried to keep their aggression hidden.

That must’ve been the reason.

“Oh.” A quiet exclamation sounded from behind me. I looked at Cece watching the same news I just heard. “That’s good, right? Maybe the GUF will find out what they tried to do to you. I heard they are surprisingly strict about synths’ rights.”

Then her black eyes turned to me, or more specifically my right arm still hidden under the body of the shirt.

“Um, is your arm injured? I could help you. Here, let me.” She reached for me without waiting for confirmation. I did not fear her touch.

“It’s paralyzed.” I stated as she started to try to maneuver my arm through the short sleeve. At my words she paused.

“Paralyzed?” She whispered and looked me in the eyes. “How?” A louder exclamation filled with shock and more questions.

“I’m not sure, but for now, I have no control over it.” She struggled with raising my arm through the shirt. It was quite heavy, as was every part of me, and she tried to be respectful of the area where my breast would be.

It was kind but unnecessary. I did not have actual secondary sex characteristics. Just an illusion of them.

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“May I help you somehow?” She was struggling, but in the end my elbow somehow went through.

“No need. I got this.” She chewed on her bottom lip and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

After a minute or so, I had both arms through the sleeves of the shirt and Cece was now looking at me with a strange expression on her face. FERS was confused as well. That never meant anything good.

“Want to stay over? You’re still injured, right?”

I deliberated for a millisecond or two and said, “Yes,” That actually sounded very peaceful right now.

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After a night spent in Cece’s room, through which I rested on a couch after a heated argument that I actually did not need the ‘fluffiness’ of her bed, I messaged Jane asking her to drop me at the Contractors’ HQ.

The hour was not really a morning one, as the nightclub apparently ended its service somewhere around five a.m. and people like Cece and Jane needed to sleep around eight hours every night.

Meaning it was late morning and city life was bound to be somehow busy. That was not the most optimal state for me to strut through the Nova York streets unhidden.

Not that I could, with still a weak leg and messed up shoulder. Oh, and I almost forgot about my paralyzed arm.

With the state I was in, the next Friday as Agatha’s bodyguard looked grim and that was even without mentioning my promise to Gabriel.

With much longer trousers and a new long sleeved shirt borrowed from Cece, I got into Jane’s car and we were driving towards the HQ.

Her car was in much better condition than the last one I saw, meaning it had all of its original parts and looked almost like every other vehicle we passed on the streets.

The windows were dimmed though, which apparently was quite normal as Sludgy’s car had a similar modification.

What was strange was that Jane was wearing sunglasses. With tinted car windows.

I thanked my engineering for durability. Otherwise, I might’ve been truly scared of dying in a car accident.

“We’re here.” Jane said with a gruff voice that sounded much deeper than usual. Maybe she had been doing something strenuous after she left me last night.

“Thank you for the ride.” I said and started to unbuckle my seat belts.

“No problem.” She cracked her knuckles and added, “Don’t forget to text me when you get better, alright? I’ll walk you over what I’ll need from you then.”

“Of course.” I said even though I did have some doubts about Jane’s plan which might actually not be needed considering the GUF investigation, but somehow I did not feel like broaching the subject right now.

Jane parked near the HQ so it was only a couple of steps to reach the entrance. When I entered, something felt off.

Maybe it was the faces of people gathered, as FERS usually noticed when in a crowd the majority of people were feeling the same or similar emotion. It helped with ‘reading the vibe’ as Jack once described it.

I noticed Tony behind the counter, tinkering at something and as I came closer, I greeted him.

“Hello, Tony.” His head lifted and a reluctant smile graced his lips.

“Rend. Hi–” I thought he would say something more, but then he paused.

After a couple of seconds, I felt the need to inquire.

“What is it?”

Tony grimaced at my question and an electrical impulse flashed from him to somewhere in the building.

“Best to let Moose tell you.” He went back to what he was doing and I waited while feeling a slight confusion.

I sat at one of the empty tables and waited for a good couple of minutes. Meanwhile, I couldn’t even ask anyone what was going on as Franky or other people that I familiarized myself with were not present.

Then, Moose descended from the stairs and he looked rough. Meaning he was bruised, slashed at and his hair had splotches of baldness. He must’ve been in quite a fight.

“Rend.” He greeted me with a slight nod and sat down opposite me.

“Hello, Moose.” His eyes looked at me and furrowed. “Tony said you have something to tell me?”

“Right. Yes, I do.” He looked at the table’s surface and took a deep breath. “I’m afraid you can’t stay here anymore. Gabriel’s moved out.”

That was surprising. I shut down a sudden jolt of nervousness that spiked in my core.

“I see. Did something happen?” The last message he sent me said that he was going to make sure someone got the car back and that we could go to his fight another week.

“Yeah. Shit happened, alright.” His voice rose in pitch and I saw signs of anger. “He told you? He did, right? About the fights.” His black eyes pierced into mine and my social protocols screamed at me to deny.

“He did tell me.” I saw his fists clench and his nostrils flare. “What happened?” I stressed that part. Awfully graphic and unfortunate scenarios flashed through my mind. The possibilities were numerous and almost none positive.

“We had a disagreement and let’s leave it at that. I know you’ve been playing roommates with him, but I ain’t obligated to answer you.” He stood up and added, “If you got any stuff left, you can go up and take it.”

I had my rifle up there. And some clothes and rags–the ones in which I first arrived in this city.

“Alright.” With a final glance in my direction, Moose moved away and I drafted a message to Gabriel.

From Ripper (NY) to Neutroblade (NY):

Where are you?

Now, I had to wait.

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After I took the things that I could say were mine only, I sat myself in the main hall and deliberated what to do now. I looked at my rifle and thought about the insanity of this situation.

The rifle being my only weapon available was a funny thing considering that I was able to only use my left arm. Shooting with it was going to be quite challenging.

Also, the state of the apartment was strange. Moose mentioned that Gabriel had moved out but many of his things were still left where I remembered them being. He must’ve left in a hurry.

The disagreement with Moose was turning out to be a serious one and I worried about Gabriel. He seemed to really care about the other man and vice versa, but there was a clear divide in what Gabriel needed and in what Moose expected of him from what I knew of their relationship.

In the end, it wasn’t really my problem and I couldn’t actually infer the correct nature of this conflict without additional information. I wasn’t sure if it was my place to do so, even. But I could still check on Gabriel. If only he would respond to my message.

Onto the more important matters like having a roof over my head; staying here was possible, but only if I hung out in the main hall since the rent for one of the rooms upstairs was close to two thousand chips a month. Tony said it wasn’t possible to lower it but even if I could, my measly three hundred-ish chips to my name were not looking promising right now.

Thankfully, I did not possess many things. The rifle’s size was annoying, but I had the case for it that Blue provided me upon the purchase, so I could technically carry it out like that if I were to go out somewhere. The boots and trousers I still had left from Arthur’s, Tony said I could stash somewhere behind the counter.

The way he suggested it told me he was pitying me for some reason. Somehow that knowledge did not sit comfortably with me.

What I could do right now, besides lazing in the HQ’s hall, was to try to find an additional job. Something close by that would give me more funds to work with. I could use better quality clothes and having a backpack sounded very nice right now. A sling would also be pleasant as walking around with a limp arm was quite obvious and in a fight it would be much more of a hindrance than if it was tied close to my body.

I would desperately need funds as I was about to order some maintenance packs for synthoids since my thigh was still in a bad shape and my shoulder could really use some additional materials.

Tony was able to provide me with some plasteel, but this time he asked me to do something in return, like taking some of his shifts behind the counter this week. I agreed since there really wasn’t any other and better option for getting some of the materials I needed. Also, the way he described what I was supposed to be doing there sounded very easy.

He also had a whole manual written on it so that was helpful.

When it came to getting an additional contract; thankfully Tony was an expert at advising on the matter and recommended one that seemed promising.

Contract: TRASH COLLECTION

* Pay: 10 chips/hour

* Deadline: -

* Specialties Required: Athleticism

* Minimum Rank: E

* Description: Picking up trash

* Location: Old Brooklyn

* Issuer: Javier Nylon

The downsides of it were quite obvious at first glance as the specialities required were minimal and the Issuer wasn’t verified, as well as the pay which was low enough to dissuade most. But it was the only contract around five minutes away from the HQ.

And even if it looked sketchy, I couldn’t think of what the Issuer would possibly be getting out of it other than what was stated. I would still be cautious of course, since I would only contact them after I healed some more.

But for now, it was the best option as the Fran-Mili problem was still technically in the air. Unless more information about the GUF investigation came out.

With all of that, I still had almost a whole week ahead of me before I was to meet Agatha–that was Miss Morrison–again.

The hall was spacious enough and unlike humans I did not secrete bodily fluids and therefore did not possess an unpleasant odor.

Meaning I could just stay here, train some people and help Tony out in exchange for some materials. Also, await Gabriel’s response.