Melissa walked toward her father’s office.
What’s Father up to?
Melissa needed to find out what he was hiding. She used his absence as an opportunity to investigate, as preparations occupied her father. Trying to be discreet by avoiding anyone she knew, Melissa unlocked her father’s study. Most of the walls of this circular room were filled, floor to ceiling, with bookshelves. In the center of the room was a round desk with several monitors. She checked the monitors for signs of use. The screens were all locked.
“Hello, Melissa!” a female voice said.
Melissa looked all over but didn’t find anyone.
“Can I help you with something specific?” the voice continued.
“Who’s there?” Melissa asked.
“My name is Leviathan. Your father activated my remaining sensors. I can now monitor the entire complex from the island.”
This must be the AI that Dad was talking about.
“Island? Do you mean the UK?”
“Negative. My physical location is near the island of Príncipe,” Leviathan said.
“Africa?”
“Affirmative!”
“Leviathan, what do you know about April Mason?”
“Born on March 21, 2012, to Melissa Mason, daughter of Jeremiah Mason. Would you like me to elaborate?”
When Melissa asked for more information, she received a brain dump of every detail on April’s life, most of which she already knew. Leviathan dimmed the lights and a three-dimensional representation of her daughter appeared. A pang of guilt hit her, and she regretted not spending more time with April. She didn’t know her daughter, and she was almost eight.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Leviathan asked.
“Yes. Is there any information about Delta?”
“I have two references to that name in my database. Please be more specific.”
“Please list titles of database articles,” Melissa said.
“Delta 51 Project, and Delta Transference.”
“Tell me more about Delta 51.”
“Access denied!”
“Okay, what can you tell me about Delta Transference?”
“File locked; please provide passcode.”
That’s interesting. Why would one file block her while the other requires a passcode?
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Melissa one-nine-nine-one.”
“File unlocked. Would you like me to read it for you?”
“No thanks. Just display it on one of these screens,” Melissa said.
The document before her described transferring April’s consciousness into a healthy cyborg host. The process revealed many details about how it all worked. The side effects in the trials included ailments such as massive headaches, seizures, and behavioral changes (like mood swings). Melissa touched the link next to these symptoms, and a screen with a half-dozen video thumbnails appeared. She was about to tap on a video when Leviathan’s voice boomed; it seemed to be coming from everywhere.
“Warning: The action that you are considering contains graphic imagery. Would you like to proceed?”
Melissa tapped the video again.
“I need a verbal ‘yes’ before I will play the video.” Leviathan’s voice had changed from a casual—even cheery—tone to something cold and calculating.
“Yes, now play the damn video,” Melissa barked.
The lights dimmed in the room, and the first video started. The volume was too loud. It seemed to be coming from all directions at once. Melissa tried to find controls but froze as she saw Ash, who appeared to be at least twenty years younger. She was assisting an older man. He appeared to be at least ten years older than Dr. Ash and wore a cowboy hat which seemed out of place in a laboratory setting.
“Hello, is this thing working?” a woman’s voice said. Melissa couldn’t see anything but some grainy movement. Then a close-up of Ash took up most of the frame.
She hasn’t aged well, Melissa thought.
“This subject is a female rhesus monkey named Sara. She has shown great promise. The previous subject, Clark, didn’t accept the healthy brain tissue and died. I’m recording this session so other researchers can learn from these early experiments. The date is April 13, 1999, 2:32 a.m.”
As Ash moved away from the camera, Melissa noticed some anxiety on the monkey’s face as they strapped it to a chair.
“We will not be giving Sara any pain medication, as it is important to record unmodified neural responses,” Ash stated in the video.
They draped a plastic sheet around the monkey. The video cut out, and then restarted. Melissa gasped as she saw what happened next. Ash used saws and a knife to cut through the top of the monkey’s skull. She removed the outer shell, revealing the exposed brain. The monkey started fidgeting, but couldn’t move much because they had it strapped to an operating table. Melissa continued to watch in horror as they attached sensors to the brain.
“We must take extra care when attaching the sensors,” Ash continued. “The tissue is delicate and will provide inaccurate data if not done correctly.”
The video continued to show the monkey subjected to a battery of examinations while they performed various cognitive tests. Several of the remaining videos were similar, the monkey responding well to the tests and Ash saying she was ready to take her testing to the next level. Melissa hit “play” on the last video. Ash looked like she’d aged ten years.
“November 10, 1999, 10:52 p.m. Sara is ready for the final stage; however, Dr. Allison has left the program, citing moral concerns. No matter. I’ve learned enough from Allison’s research to proceed without him,” Ash said.
The video cut to Ash, who held some sort of surgical saw in her hands.
“Leviathan, stop video,” Jeremiah said.
The video stopped, and the lights brightened. Melissa looked up. Her father was entering the room, and he didn’t appear to be in a good mood.
“Why are you intruding in my study?” he asked. “I did not allow you to access the files.”
“Is this what you have planned for April?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “You should have waited for dinner; I had my chef prepare something . . . special.”
“What is the Delta 51 project, anyway?
“All of this is very scientific.”
“I know what you are doing. It’s sick and immoral.”
“We are trying to save your daughter’s life. You haven’t seen her suffer as much as I have.”
“I did some checking of my own. A doctor told me that April has two conditions, neither of which is life threatening.”
“What kind of life will she have if she can’t even bathe? Water scars her, and having several blood transfusions weakens her body, not to mention her mind,” Jeremiah insisted.
“I’m back in her life now. I’m not going on any more missions to further your crusade.”
“April has already agreed. She’s tired of these ailments weakening her body.”
“She is only seven years old!”
“The cybernetic host is ready. We’ve prepared everything,” Jeremiah said.
Melissa left without another word.