Bioforms 0/0 (unless you count the lost cookies…)
Earthling Equipment 0/0
Lost Machina Artefacts 0/0
Thirty six hours prior to nuclear earlier…
I freeze, wishing my eyes are deceiving me. Eyelids actuate, blinking several times in disbelief. What I’m seeing can’t be possible. It just can’t! I pinch my arm the pain feeling dull compared to the dullness of my soul. There is no avoiding it, I admit the truth before me. Ashley’s even wearing our ‘best friends forever’ necklace, a half of a broken heart. How fitting. There is no mistaking the two people I know best in this world, nor are there any misinterpretations of what they’re doing on top of each other. Clothes are on, but that doesn’t hinder Ashley’s gyrations. The slut is riding my boyfriend, while his tongue is playing hockey with her tonsils.
On a purely cognitive level I’m impressed at her flexability. My mind’s pitiful attempt to shut out the trauma and process something.
My mouth hits the floor –still not open as wide as theirs —oh gawd, where are their tongues going?!– alongside the cookies I baked. It took me all night to bake those lil buggers! And now they’re crumbs. The sound of tupperware bouncing on the floor does nothing to disturb my roommate or my boyfriend, if anything, it encourages them to kiss more deeply. I want to puke, to disappear from sight, to cease existing. Fly into the sun and die. Throw myself down the six flights of stairs I just climbed to deliver my affection and tell Baz I was finally ready. At least I hadn’t given him that. Like he would give a damn. Ashley will be his whore before I can reach our apartment. I want to scream ‘go fuck yourselves’ but fear that will only make it a reality.
My thoughts repeat down the stairwell, across campus, and into my dorm room. The one I share with Ashley the whore and two other girls. Our apartment consists of four total rooms, a kitchen and common area, the bathroom, and our two bedrooms, one of which I share with Ashley. Making us the closest of roommates.
“Oh for fuuuuckkkssake!” I cry, burying my head in my pillow and screaming.
How am I going to look her in the eye? I need to get out of here, finals are over, they finished last week and the only reason I’m not on a lake retreat with mom and dad is cause my now EX-boyfriend Baz wanted to spend time with me. The asshole.
“Hey, is that Athena?” Says a voice in the next room.
“Sounds like she forgot the sugar in those cookies…”
“Again? Bummer, they were so cute. Should have had Ashley help her. She just loves baking.”
A door squeaks open, and one of my neutral roommates knocks twice on my open door, more to announce herself than to ask permission.
“Hey Thena, some guy from the college offices hand delivered this letter for you, it’s all official looking and like, addressed specifically to you dude.”
I know it’s Savannah, the Cali girl. She’s a sweet blonde, but I want none of her cutesy freckles or dude-bro-ness today.
“I’m not a dude.” I snap.
“Sorry, its like, non-gendered at home.” She says, entering my room and placing the letter on the nightstand I share with the whore.
Why would you do this to me Ashley?
NO! She is the last thing I ever want to think or hear about again. There is a two week break between final exams and the next semester starting. Plenty of time for me to get out of this whorehouse and find a new apartment! Maybe the letter is an invitation to the Dean’s list or something. Summer semester is weird, but fall and winter terms I passed all my classes. Sweaty hands grasp the letter, going clammy. I’m shaking so badly that I slip and tear the letter right down it’s center. The college’s fancy seal is ruined, so much for showing this to mom.
“Christ Athena, can’t you even open a letter?” I grumble, tears already welling in my eyes.
If I start crying now, I won’t be able to stop before Ash-Whorely gets home. Hatred steadies my hands, allowing me to piece two letter halves together.
—
Notice of Academic Probation
Dear Athena Finley
This letter serves as an official notification regarding your current academic standing with [University Name]. Our records indicate that your cumulative GPA of .5; has fallen below the minimum threshold required for satisfactory academic performance as outlined in the College of Engineering’s guidelines. As such, you have been placed on academic probation, effective immediately, until such time that your GPA exceeds a 3.0 and you are, once again, on track for graduation. Until such time as your GPA improves, all scholarships are suspended.
Academic probation is a structured period during which you are expected to improve your academic standing to meet the necessary requirements for continued enrollment in your program. During this probationary period, you will need to adhere to specific guidelines designed to support your academic progress and ensure your success in the program. Failure to meet the minimum standards listed below by the end of this period may result in further academic action, including but not limited to suspension or dismissal from the university.
You are required to meet with the [enter colleges name]’s dean to discuss potential improvements. We strongly encourage you to consult with your academic advisor to develop a comprehensive plan for improvement. This may include recommended study resources, academic support services, and a suggested course load adjustment to better support your academic goals. Our institution remains committed to helping you achieve success, and there are numerous resources available to assist you during this probationary period…
—
“What…
the…
FUCK!”
They were putting me on academic probation for failing summer school? These cunts didn’t even have the decency to fill out a form right! Who were they to ruin my life? I throw the letter and scream into my pillow. Pent up tears find an exit through my nose, snot leaking as emotions break through. How could this be happening? The scores from my finals aren’t even back yet! And I thought I did great! …
Shit… You never do as well as you think on finals.
I must have flunked all of them. But this is only the summer term! Sure I failed my underwater basketweaving class over the summer, but that doesn’t count. It was a summer elective class meant to help me move in and socialize… I got straight As last year! Well, until Baz slid into my life with that cute aussie accent. AH! Why are they coming for me now? Fukfukfuckfuckitycuckfucksucking!
How long I cried is a secret only my pillow knows, but my eyes were still wet when the bedroom light flicked off.
“Move to Utah you said, we don’t have blackouts like Commie-fornia you said!” Snaps Savannah, smacking her lips like she just applied a fresh lacquer of gloss.
She’s plastic as all hell, but I can’t help but smile at the sarcasm.
“Someone probably tried to run too many dildoes off the same breaker. Give it a minute.” Says our fourth roommate.
Faint buzzing fills my head, like there is a fly around my ponytail. I reach up to swat it, only for my hand to go limp. My eyes are closed, squeezing out the last of my tears, but I can see a blue window in front of me.
“Great, my bae- NO! EX bae! My ex cheated on me so hard I’m hallucinating.”
“Sav, did you put weed in our cheerios again-”
“No– I mean, I totally did, but Baz is gonna throw this wicked party–”
[HELLO PEOPLE OF– ah hell jim, what is this planet called again?]
[Earth. Like it always is.]
[Shit, that last one being called Eden has got me all thrown off kilter]
The words are speaking into my brain directly, verbally and visually being displayed on the blue screen in English. Which does nothing to make the two voices sound less like Curly and Moe stooging up a storm. This is easily the worst trip of my life. I’d rather have a schizophrenia break than listen to this. Mentally I try and dismiss the message, recieving a red flash and slight screen shake in way of refusal.
“Great, the two stooges now have unskippable cutscenes.”
[HELLO PEOPLE OF EARTH! We are your gracious overlords, the protectors of your spiral arm, and you are our planted children. I’m pleased to inform you all that you’ve exceeded all our expectations for a successful crop, which is excellent news for us both! Since your society will still persevere after our culling. Now I know that word has some unfriendly connotations to some of you, but our holy Singularity has devoted a great deal of resources in keeping your planet alive. So it’s only fair to pay your taxes. We’ll be drafting everyone between the ages of twelve and forty two. Roughly four billion people who will then join our honourable warriors on the frontlines.]
Culling? Unfriendly connotations is right! That’s what we do to parasites or extraneous bits in a computer, not living breathing people! Wait, conscription? Taxes? This can’t be happening. I’m going to be drafted to fight an interstellar war? No! No no–
Oh… I don’t have to share a room with Whorely anymore. Guess there are worse things. Part of me embraces the concept, eager to escape Bazzhole and Whorely.
[I see some of you are reacting poorly to this news. Have no fear, if you comply peacefully then we will drop off nine gates that will allow instantaneous transportation to any continent, as well as to the two gates we will leave in orbit. Your sacrifice is the price for admission into the Holy Singularity proper. Your entire planet will be modernized as soon as we take the mining world of Syrak-9. All taxable proceeds will be routed through your earth. Soon you will have all the modern amenities of nanotech and interstellar communication. Welcome all. Now just sit tight, we’ll be teleporting all munitions, nukes- oh wow, you chinese really went crazy with these, two hundred thousand nukes. Naughty naughty.]
By the tone of his ‘voice’ Athena could envision the announcer waggling his finger. Like they were some misbehaving little child. Quite rude, but not necessarily undeserved, China only publicly admitted a few thousand nukes. This was nearly a hundred times what treaties allowed. An old saying comes to mind, followed by another. It’s only cheating if you get caught, but in love and war there are no rules, only the winners who are left.
[Cmon Haime, you’re butchering the announcement!] Snapped a second voice.
[Right right, oh where was I? Eh, doesn’t matter. Have your gates, we’ll be taking guns, bullets, nukes, four billion ish people and yada yada. You’ll be mindwiped and then flashtrained to fill in our gaps. If you find any of this disturbing, be sure to report to your nearest medical professional. We give them weekend trainings specifically on recursive mindwipes! Toodles.]
[HAIME!]
[Okay, fine. Look here earthlings. The Technocracy is about to seize this world. If half of you don’t bite the pillow and stop them, they will lobotomize you and everyone you’ve ever loved-]
If they started with Baz and Ashley I wouldn’t be too opposed to that…
[-so the Singularity has received emergency orders from our AI senate, a unanimous decision mind you, to prevent that from happening. I was drafted as well, this really isn’t a bad thing. Some will die, but most of you will become generals, pilots, doctors, and more. We even have a few million slots for colonists. Flash training will give you all the skills anyone could need. It’ll be like going to sleep and then waking up having gone through twelfth grade, college, and a trade school. Except you’ll remember your lessons. Really great tech.]
Two soft thumps told of her roommate’s collapse, but she was too distracted by the instant teleportation. One second she was laying in bed, wet faced, teary eyed, her academic probation letter in front of her, and the next she was naked.
Slime coated my entire body in a moistness that made me gag.
I gasp, inhaling to scream, only for warm fluid to fill my lungs. No, not warm, hot, body temperature, slightly salty yet subtly sweet, like a bag of boiled saline poured into Kool-Aid. Kinda tasty in a sweaty way. Glass surrounds me, I’m in a tube, naked. About to drown in whatever concoction they’ve isolated me in. My nostrils flare, inhaling a second time on reflex. I prepare for the end, wishing Baz and Ashley a similar fate. An echo of the announcement rises in my mind, drafting all ages twelve to forty two. Mom is only thirty eight. She could be here too. Damnit. Seconds pass, I inhale again, but my vision is fine. My mind works. Is this death? Had the tax collectors killed her?
Why would tax collectors kill us by drowning? It was like the IRS collecting your taxes only to put the bills through a shredder. Nothing made any sense. Then I realize that’s standard operating procedure for governments.
Amongst four billion people, I’m the typo.
—
“Teleportation complete.” Chimes an alarm.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The cockpit is cool, both pilots hunched over screens, monitoring the cryopods for any abnormalities.
“What trauma did these people go through? Why are so many skitzo? Ah hell, the most advanced country is the fatest. We’ll have to reject most of these worthless sacks of shit.” Haime says, more for the sake of bitching than for conversation.
“Who cares, we got a billion more people than projections accounted for. A billion man! With a B! We can flush the outliers from the past twelve worlds and still exceed every quota! Don’t you see it Haime, we’re rich! Hallelujah!” Jim shouts, unbuckling his harness and moving to leave.
“Abandoning station already? We ain’t even cashed in yet!” Snaps Haime, a frown slashing itself across his face.
“Bro, I’m just so excited! Even a dead world or the federales won’t break us. This run will pay for my next century! Gotta go inspect the cargo, see it with my own eyes, not just on sensors.” He gasped, feeling lightheaded under the assault of billions of credits.
“As if you can count past ten thousand! Bah, fine, make sure you recycle any fatties I miss. Maybe wipe one or two of the sweeter things for ourselves. You know what I like.” Said Haime, selecting a million cryopods and sending their obese occupants into the protein recycler.
“You old perve.” Shouts Jim, clearing the cockpit as the ship trembles.
Nine thuds tell of the nine portals being launched. They connect instantly to any other portal in the galaxy, assuming you can supply it power. Which these earthlings can’t. These gates won’t be activated by cartographer ships for the next hundred years, speedy by bureaucratic standards. A hundred years of exploitation awaits the earth.
“Sucks to suck earthlings. Sorry you lot have to fight for Syrak-9. Aint no way to win that fight. Not unless the heavens open and xeno-Jebus saves your souls.” Says Jim, shaking his head softly before flushing a few hundred morbidly obese.
The ship would break them down into molecules, scrub them of undesirables like heavy metals, drugs both prescription and recreational, all non-human DNA –bugs or parasites– and then store the molecules in ready to consume bars. The fatties would never choke back another twinky, but they would be choked back. Good riddance. A few of the women catch his eye, one has a golden ring hanging from her nipple, no tattoos though. She’s not good enough for Haime.
“You and your obsession with pierced nipples.” Groaned Jim, already typing in commands to the ship’s AI. “Cycle all the skitzos to the back, rank them from least to worst, then sort out any abnormalities.” He said.
The cockpit’s blastdoors opened for him, cycling as he walked. Not paying attention as the AI sealed each door before unsealing the next, it was standard protocol aboard any ship. Just another part of life in vacuum. Besides, it gave him time to flush a million of the worst basketcases. Six intervening airlocks divided the freighter, preventing any one breach from killing everyone. Still, the ship was cavernous, an entire city could fit inside this arkship, where One trillion cryopods awaited. Occupants hanging on his approval for life and death. About half of those were currently full, but that was alright. You never wanted to be at 100% capacity, then every technical fault or power hiccup would cut into your profits.
“Faults detected, unable to access one hundred and four candidates,” Began the ship’s AI, “Displaying four million, eight hundred and–”
“Recycle any that have less than ninety percent compatibility with flash training.” Interrupted Jim, hoping to save himself some work.
Certain mental abnormalities would prevent the flash training from taking hold, and that would result in wig outs. People who remembered their lives on earth and their time in the tubes, as well as the flash training process. Schizophrenics were the worst. No matter how thoroughly you erased them, or how many times they underwent flash training, it was only a matter of time before they went postal on the same people who paid good money for these draftees. As a freelancer it was easy for Jim to collect a few extra people, but this haul would set a performance record for the galactic quadrant. He’d HAVE to siphon a few million people off the top just to make this believable. Otherwise they’d have some AI crawling up and down his throat; investigating every aspect of his cover story. Jim activated his neural link, the personal one and sent a dozen messages to interested buyers in two dozen solar systems.
[got extra merchandise, top quality, or in quantity. Need to offload quick. Discounts for purchases exceeding a million.]
Jim Sent the message, smiling as buyers lined up. With the numbers they were offering him, the feds wouldn’t be able to touch him. Hell, two crazy aliens were offering him planets!
He laughed. Hooting with joy for long minutes before returning to his work. There were millions of schizophrenics on board. All of them liabilities.
“Aw hell, revise ninety percent compatibility with ninety five percent. Loop in the other harvests too. Lets deliver triple A goods and keep the wig outs to a minimum.” Said Jim.
“Ten million candidates fall below that threshold.”
Jim pressed the button to recycle them.
[ERROR: Recycler is full.]
“Oh baby, a hold full of rations and a billion person bonus haul? Yes please, ice my birthday cake some more.” Said Jim, casually flushing the remaining nine million people into space. They died without ever feeling a thing. A mercy that Athena Finley would soon come to dream of.
The AI dutifully aimed each person on a collision course with the nearest planet, a standard practice meant to cut down on space debris. Over the next few weeks Earth would be treated to countless meteor showers as millions of their draftees returned home.
“Five minutes later the AI spoke again, “All ten million vented, approximately two hundred thousand anomalies remaining. One urgent fault.”
“Teleport me.” Snapped Jim, reaching for his sidearm.
Cool Vanadium alloy brushed against his fingers. The simplest solution to an ‘urgent fault’ was a bullet between the eyes. Loose crazies aboard a spaceship could get them all killed. Blue light flashed once, fading as he appeared in front of a woman’s tube. She jerked in surprise at his arrival, feet flailing as she curled into a ball, arms covering double Ds before her shapely hips twisted, covering herself. Attractive, but not Jim’s type, nor was she Haime’s.The pervert spent too much time in simulations, nowadays the only thing that could provide suitable stimulation came from impossible amalgamations. Things nothing other than a robot could provide.
“Ha, after this payday, maybe I’ll buy the jackass a few catgirlbots. At least then he’ll leave the merchandise alone.” Jim laughed, leveling the pistol at the woman’s nameplate.
“Athena Finley” appeared on it.
His barrel poked the readout, opening a communication link into the cryotube.
‘Suitability with flash training, 500% match.’ It read.
“Five hundred? What the hell? Felicia! Run some diagnostics! Aint no way. What kind of cyber crack are you smoking– Ah, the brain scanner fell off.” Jim said, fear turning to humor as he realized the tube was suggesting cryogel was the perfect match for flash training.
“As if. Ha, we’d clone people if that worked. Hey! Athena Finley, put that crown on or I’m gonna flush you into deep space. You’ll freeze to death mighty fast, but it’ll be a painful few seconds. Bad way to go. Helmet on.”
Her eyes shot wide, mouth opening as his words were translated. Jim rolled his eyes, ignoring her sudden wet screaming. So hysterical. He held up three fingers, counting down.
“Flushing in three, two–”
Athena scrambled, hands grasping in the viscous fluid for the neurallink. It slid onto her bald head, soon inserting itself into the brainstem and linking the onboard AI directly with her consciousness.
“Anomaly, compatibility rising to three thousand percent.”
“AI, link in cryotubes until compatibility equalizes!” Snapped Jim, his mind working as he leered at the readouts.
Three thousand percent was possible for a human, usually indicating some kind of trauma induced schizophrenia event. Or some abnormality. Except there was a one in a million chance that kept him anchored, staying his itcher fingers from disposing of Athena. Two cryopods added their onboard processing forming a three way linkage. Compatibility lowered to 1000%. A near perfect specimen. Young, intelligent but not cynical, cooperative yet independent, that left two remaining questions. Jim’s tongue ran over his lips, working the spit around his mouth.
“Analyze ESP potential.” He whispered.
Greed tunneled his vision. Anomalies like this are why he didn’t automate the flushing. Felicia, the ship’s onboard AI was more than capable of sorting fringe cases. Instead he did it, hunting for jackpots. His eyes flicked towards his second tablet, the one Felicia was programmed to ignore. Took six months to sneak it by her, had to use a neural shunt in her mainframe, but it had all paid off. Six beings were already starting a bidding for any gifted bodies. Xenos who would pay anything for a compatible driver- probably incels who choked out their fuktoy and put the braindead body on ice, except one of the high bidders was a man Jim couldn’t turn down. He swallowed, wondering how a member of the nameless caste had found him. Guess you’ll be their problem. Aint my business. Thought Jim.
“ESP compatible. Chance of self activating, 10%. Chance of reaching useful thresholds with unlimited resources, unlikely. Recommendation, clone specimen and use to incubate a higher potential psionic. Or cross pollinate with high order psionic xenos.” Said Felicia, speaking through his implants.
He shot a message to the Exec Kaalra of the nameless. Sending the raw scans to him. If he wanted her, then he could bid on her privately. The response was immediate and decisive.
“Bummer… I’ll have to settle for buying my own planet.” Whispered Jim, doing a victory shimmy with tablet in one hand and pistol in the other.
Athena raised her eyebrow, confused why a man was dancing in front of her. Really hoping it wasn’t some kind of alien mating ritual. He looked human, but was beyond psychopathy.
“Oh, ahem, you’re an odd one. Each cull there are a few tall poppies.” Jim cleared his throat, holstering the pistol. “What would you do to survive?”
The question was direct, and not intended to be lewd, but it was difficult for Athena to take it any other way when she was naked and imprisoned in goo. Hell, she was practically pre-lubed at this point. A thought the AI translated into words after directly scanning her mind.
“I couldn’t even bang my boyfriend. But I would do anything. Maybe even take that pistol after.”
Jim jerked back, surprised and blushing a bit. “Ah, uhm, not what I meant… Would you kill to survive?”
“I’ve never killed anyone. So Maybe, I might try if I thought I could succeed.” Said the AI, once more pulling from Athena’s brain.
She wanted to scream, to rip the neural worm out of her mind, or take the spacesuited man’s pistol and blow it out of herself!
“Please let me live. Don’t hurt me, don’t make me kill anyone-”
Jim tapped a button, muting the thought to speech system.
“Whiney bitch.”
He spent the next twelve hours running analysis and diagnostics on Athena, thoroughly mapping every millimeter of her synapses. He didn’t stop there, nor did Felicia who categorized each and every mole on Athena’s body. Even going so far as to transfer her to three other cryotubes and repeating the tests. Always smiling a little more as he repeated one word. As if it was an incantation that would bestow eternal life and bottomless wealth.
Athena hated the word, and hated being called a ‘chimera’. Ick, it even sounded mashed together. Like moldy milk squished into sprouting potatoes, vile and poisonous.
Jim forgot that she could hear him, soon letting slip details she would rather not have known.
“Twelve half siblings,
different mothers,
dang, dad likes to get busy.
Bummer, none have similar traits. Must be from her mom. Aw shit, we left the mother on earth cause she’s pregnant. Damn.” He tapped his tablets, cursing about leaving the system.
Mom survived. She was safe… With Athena’s little sibling. It would have been nice to be a big sister.
Besides those twin nuggets of hope, Athena hated everything, from the goo in her armpits and bellybutton to the portly technician, and especially the wires crawling through her brain, occasionally poking a nerve and sending a spasm through her body.
This is the worst possible way to have someone inside me.
Thoughts of sex sent her into despair. Dad was a cheater. Not just any cheater, but a serial impregnator. Twelve siblings? TWELVE?
Dad wasn’t just ‘dad’ he was ‘Father Finley’, a bishop of their church-
It all clicked. The late nights he spent at church, ‘offering comfort’ or ‘council’ to the women in his flock. Why the church was mostly women, a solid ratio of seven women for every three men. More than two to one… But all the women had kids. Calling each other brother and sister suddenly took on a new, less altruistic, meaning.
Mother’s inexplicable tears suddenly connected with Athena’s heart. Every night she knew where her husband was, with his very own version of Whorely. Crap taste in men might be genetic.
Athena scowled at that. Remembering how Mom cried herself to sleep while dad was out late ‘stuck at church’. More like stuck in a ho. The affairs had been going on for decades. How did Athena not know?
Was I raised in a church? Or a cult? Thought Athena.
She had no time to process, Jim tapped on the panel, unmuting her mind.
“Would you kill your dad?”
“Ew, what? You dump all this on me and demand answers?! Go ride a broomstick. The pointy end.” Says Felicia, reading her mind before she can speak.
Jim gets the message and chuckles. “Gun to your head, would you kill your father to survive? Answer carefully, it’s the difference between death and giving birth every second until you die while machines keep you alive. You’ll never taste anything other than a plastic tube, or feel your legs.”
I look at him, mouth falling open in horror. I’m a virgin, what the hell is he even talking about? Human’s can’t grow more than one kid at a time! Birth every second? Yeah right… Why was he so specific? But the AI reads my mind faster than thought.
“Extrapolation, yes and no. In such a scenario where I had a gun to my head and a gun to my father’s head, I would ask him the question-” The program shifted pitch to speak with Athena’s voice, “Dad, they say I'll die if I don’t shoot you, what should I do? Then if he answers I should save myself, I couldn’t kill him. But liars can’t put anyone ahead of themselves. So I would pull the trigger.”
A long low whistle escapes Jim’s lips.
“Good answer. Aight. I’m going to make you a deal. One you’ll accept. A very powerful man wants your mind and he is paying for it. Goes by the name of Exec Kaalra. Whatever he wants, you’ll give him. Now go to sleep. The flash conditioning will be a bit painful if you can’t sleep through it.” He pauses, pulling a black chunk out of his spacesuit, he presses it against the glass and twists, blue light blinks around us, and all the lights go out. My pod is suddenly dark. A total void where nothing, not even the light of the adjacent tubes can enter mine.
“Listen here. The AI can’t hear us right now. I’m going to sell you under the table. Go along with it and I’ll make sure your mom knows you’re safe. Fight me, and I’ll drop a rock on her. I can sell her DNA for more than her mind. But going back to earth is complicated. Felicia’s already made arrangements, if you cooperate, then you’ll end up in three separate bodies. Tell no one about that. Chimera’s like you are outlawed, if Kaalra finds out he’ll murder you and your whole family, half siblings too. Then push Earth into the sun cause he’s bored.”
Fear illuminated Jim’s eyes, as if his words scared himself. “Athena, girl, I’m begging you, don’t fuck with the nameless caste. All that bullshit about becoming farmers and generals of the singularity? Aint gonna happen. Except for a few dozen of fringe cases like you.”
He placed the second tablet against her tube, pressing buttons that sent a dataspike into her cortex. Directly downloading information about the modern galaxy into her mind. Earth was going to be flayed, strip mined, and raped for the next century. Unless they took Syrak-9. They had five years to take the game world. Called game because the nameless caste demanded their vassal states send a legion to fight and die on it each year. Earth wasn’t being drafted, they were being sacrificed into a meatgrinder.
“Aint pretty. But you can win Athena Finley. Find a way. I’ll keep your mother safe, buy her a nice guardian AI. State of the art with a cold fusion reactor and hidden plasma cannons. She’ll never want for anything, and have one of the most intelligent beings in all of creation to guide her through the galaxy. Do we have a deal?” He whispered.
I want to accept, but the neural interface speaks for me. “Flash training will lobotomize me. How can I keep a promise?”
Jim snorts. “Flashtraining will wear off a cracked-head like yours. Accept it for a few days. Don’t fight it, the machines push harder if you resist. Besides, there’s no need, you’ll eventually break it naturally. When you come to, do NOT talk to the doctors. Continue playing your role. Be the person you are paid to be.”
I weigh the odds quickly. Making the right decision on the drop of a dime is a skill of mine. Maybe I acquired it playing endless tournaments of 1v1 Starcraft. A talent that serves me well here. Jim has no incentive to help me, but if he does give mom a guardian AI, she’ll eventually figure it out, and force it to find me, something I can facilitate by agreeing.
“Make the AI look like me. Otherwise she’ll never be satisfied. I’m the only one she can really trust, just look at dad…”
Jim laughs. “Ah, your old man is a piece of work! Guess that’s fair. You’re allowing me to retire, so I can at least give the same to your mom. Hell, I’ll even clone your cells so she’s really talking to you. Now, keep this secret. I’m just doing my job. We never met, we never spoke, and your mom will be safe for the rest of her life. Which will be extended, I wasn’t lying about the Singularity, we dropped off the gates. Entrepreneurs will probably dial Earth in a few months and start selling goodies at a hundred times the market value. But your mom will get the finest nanotech once I get paid. Gotta keep my word. Nanotech will clear out most diseases and ninety percent of aging related issues. Your mom will probably live past two hundred years old.” He says.
I hope he’s not lying through that smile. Not like I can pick out a liar, not after dad… The artefact is removed, lights return suddenly, and Jim taps the panel a few times, jets of liquid shoot into my tube, coloring the cryogel blue. The last thing I see before my eyes close.
Bioform command established
Powered Armor counter activated
Tracking Lost Machina Artefacts