Greed tunneled his vision. Anomalies like this are why he didn’t automate the flushing. Sure, it was a waste of time 99% of the time, but that last percent made all the work worthwhile. Felicia, the ship’s onboard AI was more than capable of sorting fringe cases. Instead he did it, hunting for jackpots. 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, time for it to pay back that investment. Six beings were already starting a bidding war for first dibs on ‘gifted’ minds. 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 race Jim couldn’t turn down. He swallowed, wondering how a member of the nameless caste had found him. They didn’t bother dealing with mortal races at all, how did they even connect to a Singularity backed arkship like him?
Shit. Guess you’ll be their problem. Aint my business. Thought Jim.
The nameless caste was the most technologically advanced race in the known universe, ancient beyond comprehension and the undisputed masters of the galaxy. So advanced they even held part or all of the nearby galaxies as well. If they asked for something, you served it up on a golden platter. Supposedly they were only the second species to evolve in the galaxy and borrowed heavily from the first’s technological head start. More importantly they only interacted with their direct client species like the Azhurai Conglomerate’s overlords, another long lived race that did their bidding.
“ESP compatible. Chance of self activating, 10%. Chance of reaching useful thresholds with unlimited resources, unlikely. Recommendation, clone specimen and use to inseminate a higher potential psionic. Or cross pollinate with high order psionic xenos.” Said Felicia, speaking through his implants.
He shot a message to Exec Kaalra of the nameless. Answering the ambassador’s earlier request with raw scans. If the nameless wanted this ‘Apollo Finley’ then no payday would save Jim.The response was immediate and decisive, making Jim’s eyes bug out of his skull at the number of galactic credits on screen.
“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.
Apollo raised his eyebrow, confused why the man was dancing. 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 Apollo to take it any other way when half naked and imprisoned in goo. Hell, he was practically pre-lubed at this point. A thought the AI translated into words after directly scanning his mind.
“I couldn’t even bang my girlfriend. But I would do anything. Maybe even take that pistol after.”
The words echoed outside the cryotube, my voice perfectly replicated by speakers. Was it even true? How far would I go to survive?
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… I might try if I thought I could succeed.” Said the AI, once more pulling from Apollo’s brain.
I wanted to scream, to rip the neural worm out of my mind, or take the FNX and blast the thing off my skull. But his hand wouldn’t answer his call, no part of his body would. Some kind of neural poison locked him in place.
“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 Apollo, thoroughly mapping every millimeter of his synapses. He didn’t stop there, nor did Felicia who categorized each and every mole on Apollo’s body. Even going so far as to transfer him to other cryotubes and repeating the tests. Jim laughed. Always smiling a little more as he repeated one word. As if it was an incantation that would bestow eternal life and bottomless wealth.
Apollo 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 never muted the external microphones, soon letting slip details he would rather not have known.
“Twelve half siblings,
different mothers,
dang, dad likes to get busy.
Bummer, none have similar traits. Must be from mom’s side. 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 Apollo’s little sibling. It would have been nice to be a big brother. Weird to be in college with a new sibling, but in a way that only made the bond more special.
Besides those twin nuggets of hope, Apollo hated everything, from the gooey armpits and bellybutton to the portly technician, and especially the wires crawling through his brain, occasionally poking a nerve and sending an involuntary spasm through muscles.
This is the worst possible way to have someone inside me.
Thoughts of sex sent him into despair. Dad was a cheater. Not just any cheater, but a serial impregnator. Twelve step siblings? TWELVE? That was more seamen than you could stuff into an Ohio Class submarine! Everyone in his life was a god damned perverted bastard. Baz’s humiliation fetish, Whorely’s whoreness, and now dad’s infidelity… When did he even find the time? Dad was always so busy with work and church.
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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 Apollo’s heart. Every night she knew where her husband was, with his very own version of Whorely. Crap taste in romantic partners might just be genetic.
Apollo 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 Apollo not know?
Was I raised in a church? Or a cult? Thought Apollo.
He had no time to process, Jim tapped on the panel, unmuting Apollo’s mind.
“Would you kill your father?”
“Ew, what? You dump all this on me and demand answers?! Go ride a broomstick. The pointy end.” Says Felicia, reading the thoughts out loud.
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 getting spun down into genetic material for artificial insemination. Machines automate the process, 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? 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 Apollo’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, no. The most powerful man in this spiral arm, wants your mind and he is paying for it. Goes by the name of Exec Kaalra. Whatever he wants, you’ll give him and thank him for the privilege to serve. 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 pressing it against the glass and twists, blue light blinks around us. 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. Felicia can’t hear us right now. Chimera’s like you aint exactly legal to sell. What exactly Kaalra has planned for you is a mystery, but the amount he’s paying means you’re special. And I aint letting no one burn out your skull. So listen. I’m gonna to split your mind three ways then entangle em all together. That ought to keep you running for the next few centuries. Maybe longer if you take advantage of the system and roll with it.”
I scowled at the man, mentally telling him to fellate an elephant and die. Too bad Felicia really wasn’t listening.
“Apollo, cmon man. Look, this is the best deal you’ll ever get! Go along with it and I’ll make sure mom knows you’re safe. Fight me, and I’ll drop a rock on her. Parting out pregnant ladies is messy, but profitable. Work with me here, give me every reason to keep her alive. Earth’s in the shit, but the singularity took over your continent. One message to the higher ups and I’ll have your whole family marked as psychically intriguing. Potential military assets. That’ll keep em safe. Felicia’s already made arrangements, if you cooperate, then you’ll end up in three separate bodies. Tell no one about that. Chimeras are outlawed, if Kaalra finds out he’ll murder you and your whole family, half siblings too. Then push Earth into the sun to be sure. Nameless like him don’t know what a half measure is.”
Fear illuminated Jim’s eyes, as if the very thought of this ‘Kaalra’ terrifies him. “Apollo, man, 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 fringe cases like you.”
He placed the second tablet against the cryotube, pressing buttons that sent a dataspike into Apollo’s cortex. Directly downloading information about the modern galaxy. Tactical and strategic assessments on how Earth was going to be flayed, strip mined, and raped for the next century. Unless-
-I take Syrak-9. We have 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 so other planets did not have to sacrifice their sons and daughters.
“Aint pretty. But you” Jim jabbed a finger at my chest, “can win Apollo 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. A bot like that can do more than the dishes, just think about it, having one of the most intelligent beings in all of creation 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 so fighting it will cause brain damage. Bad idea. 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 there are no better alternatives. I can only gain. 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 upgrading earth, 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.”
I hope he’s not lying through that smile. Not like I can pick out a liar, not after Whorely and Bazzhole. Or dad… Was he the embezzler this whole time? I shudder.
Then take a deep breath and nod my head.
Jim yanks the artefact free, 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. I never comprehend what Felicia and Jim do to my mind, nor why they needed multiple cryotubes to sync my brain.
>Defragmentation completed.
>Neural nodes networked.
>Hive mind accepted.
>Flashtraining commencing…