Late August was always scorching there. Even the evening failed to bring the much-anticipated coolness. The golden wheat field stretched out like an endless ocean, with the wind gently stirring small waves across it.
Far beyond, an enormous city with crystal towers reaching the sky could be seen in the light haze. A path ran through the field, parting the stalks, invitingly playing and beckoning. It seemed that if someone ran fast enough, they could take off and find themselves in that magical place where all wishes come true!
A ten-year-old girl in a short summer dress looked at her bare feet and laughed. The gentle breeze softly tousled her fiery red hair that fell to her shoulders.
“Here I go!” she shouted, breaking into a sprint, arms spread wide like a bird ready to soar.
She had to run, as fast as she could, because tomorrow her father would release the auto-combines and robot harvesters to gather the crop. Though she desperately wanted to stay there a little longer, to jump around and enjoy the last days of the hot summer! It was so great to feel the warm earth beneath her bare feet, to play with the wind, brushing against the heavy golden stalks as she ran! And she dreamed of visiting the wondrous city, even though it was so far away.
But the sun was setting, flooding the clouds with a sparkling amber glow… The wind died down, everything fell silent, and the horizon darkened rapidly. Lead-colored clouds appeared against the crimson backdrop.
The frightened girl stopped, looking around.
“Mom, I’m scared… I wanna go home,” she whispered, trying to turn back, but suddenly slipped and fell on the ground. Instead of the dry path, she found herself in a sticky, wet swamp. The wheat dissolved around her with a hiss, and thick, stinking fog rose in dense fog. The girl couldn’t stand up; the ground was all muck, and there was nothing to hold on to. She struggled in the mire, sinking deeper and deeper.
“Help! Mama! I don’t want this! Noooo!” Her scream shattered the sky. Lightning flashes pierced the heavens with a roar. The wind hurled stinging whips of acid rain into her face.
Finding a relatively solid patch beneath her feet, the girl struggled to free her hands from the muck and managed to stand. But things only got worse. The caustic rain burned her skin. She tried to shield her head with her hands, but the downpour grew stronger and more vicious.
She collapsed back onto her knees, straight into the swamp. Consciousness faded from the pain. Blisters burst on her skin, blood mingled with mud and acid, as everything was engulfed in a horrifying, dense darkness.
----------------------------------------
State Poland
Nikola Kowalski, August 24, 2042
From the silence, a sound emerged.
An old mechanical clockwork.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…
The girl opened her eyes. Her room. Heavy curtains on the windows, old green-and-yellow wallpaper on the walls, creaky dried-out furniture. And she – a prisoner of this hell, who had briefly lost consciousness in her wheelchair.
The air in the room was heavy – it smelled of dust, old wood, cloth, and medicine. There were many of them – bottles and boxes, all handwritten, stood in abundance on the bedside table, the dresser, and the desk.
At least her legs no longer hurt. They had turned black and smelled awful, but the pain was gone. She was certain it wasn’t the medicine because she had stopped taking them and secretly spat out the pills in her hand whenever her mother turned away. Good thing that her left hand could still move; otherwise this would have been difficult to do.
“All that’s left is to wait. The most important thing is to hold on, not to lose consciousness again from the pain. They must be close by now, surely close,” she thought, gripping an old model communicator with a small screen in her hand. They hadn’t made these in ages, but she had nothing more modern, let alone any implants. Her parents had forbidden even the simplest biometric identification chip. Personal technology was also out of the question, so her only means of connecting with the real world had to be hidden. But none of that mattered now. At this moment, she was alone at home, completely alone, and today would change her life. More than that – it would save her. Because now, she wasn't counting days until death. Just hours.
“What’s taking them so long?”
At that moment, the communicator in her hand began to vibrate silently as if responding to her plea.
“Yes?” she answered with a pounding heart.
“Nikola Kowalski?” A man in a strict black-and-gray uniform with corporate insignia and an emblem of two stylized half-rings appeared on the screen.
“Yes, it’s me,” the girl’s voice trembled, though she tried her best to hide her fear.
“This is Captain Dariusz Grabowski of the Watson Cybertech operative brigade. We’re here, please come out.”
“I’m sorry, Dariusz… I… I can’t come out on my own. My legs are paralyzed, and the wheelchair won’t go down the stairs.”
“Nikola, you do understand that I don’t have the authority to enter private property? You’re only fourteen, so your limited legal capacity doesn’t grant you the right to give us such permission.”
“Captain, I own nine percent of the property! It meets the minimum requirements for state citizenship, but there’s no one home! My legs are necrotic, the situation is critical, so you can come in,” Nika tried to respond calmly, but her voice broke, revealing her panic. “We don’t have active security systems! The doors are unlocked! I can barely move… only one arm! I can’t even crawl to you!”
“Nikola, don’t worry. We’re here, everything will be all right,” Dariusz began to reassure her. “Let’s sort this out. Do your parents also have state citizenship? Not corporate, not polis?”
“Yes, state Poland.”
“Do you have a certificate of ownership?”
“I do, on my ID card chip.”
“Hold on a moment, waiting for confirmation… Yes, the global Watson CyberTech artificial intelligence, thread Martha-14, has confirmed your legal rights. And considering your critical condition, I have been authorized to provide urgent paid medical care as part of your contract. Do you consent to the paid medical care?”
“Oh my God, of course!” she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and broke down crying. “Please, take me away from here… please…”
“Calm down, Nikola, we’re coming in. Where are you?”
“Go through the entrance, straight ahead,” she responded through her sobs, “then up the left staircase, first door down the corridor.”
“We’re on our way up.”
A minute later, the door burst open, and two men in corporate uniforms entered the room.
“Geez! What a rathole!” said the first man, showing his captain’s badge. “I’m Dariusz. You don’t need to worry anymore. The contract will come into effect soon, so we won’t let you die. Conrad, it’s too dark, set up some light.”
“Sure thing,” Conrad stepped aside and let a four-legged medbot platform into the room. With a soft hum, the robot approached Nikola’s wheelchair, extending a long manipulator with a medical lamp.
“Unbelievable.” Grabowski pointed at the long rows of vials. “What is all this? Have you not been treated at all?”
“Home remedies. But they did give me painkillers,” she winced from the pain, struggling to speak. “I’ve been spitting them out secretly, though.”
“That’s just medieval lunacy,” Dariusz commented in shock, pulling an auto-injector from the medbot’s mount. “Alright, the pain will go away now.”
He administered the injection and walked around the wheelchair, carefully examining his future patient.
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“Don’t zonk out on me yet, sweetheart. You don’t have a chip, so I’ll need to see your ID. That’s the last formality, but it’s necessary.”
“Sure… I’m dizzy… sorry… It’s in the pocket.” Nikola mumbled, her words slurring. Everything was swimming before her eyes, and she desperately wanted to sleep. But the pain had indeed subsided, just like the captain promised. “In the chair pocket. I prepared it… beforehand.”
“Got it,” said Dariusz, opening the side pocket. “It’s here. Conrad, bring the bot closer, scan the passport. Let’s wrap this up and get out of here.”
“All set. Data verified,” the second operative responded a minute later, finishing with the identification and setting up the portable medical station to receive the patient.
“Excellent.” Grabowski put on gloves and activated a recording drone. “Now, let’s draw some blood.”
Conrad flipped open the console on the side of the robot and extended the section of the express laboratory. He then approached the wheelchair to take samples for the initial quick analysis.
“Beginning examination,” said the captain, starting the recording. “Nikola Kowalski, fourteen years old. Blockchain contract identifier activated. Visual examination of the feet. Confirming characteristic symptoms of hereditary motor-sensory neuropathy.”
The drone hovered near Nikola, recording and moving as Dariusz spoke.
“Additionally, documenting gas gangrene of the lower limbs at the mid-thigh level against the backdrop of complete paralysis. The right arm is paralyzed, reflexes in the left arm are weak, with extensive ulcers on the bends. Muscle strength is nearly absent, sensitivity in the left hand is preserved at the wrist level. The skin of the hand is pale, dry, with eruptions. All limbs are severely atrophied, fat tissue development is minimal. General condition is severe, consciousness is retained.”
The captain carefully untied the knot of an old headscarf Nikola used to hide her dirty red hair, trimed almost to nothing. To avoid disturbing the nearly unconscious girl, he simply cut her clothes with scissors.
The drone switched on additional lights and circled around Nika again.
“Sores, rashes, small ulcers on the skin of the body,” Dariusz concluded. “I also suspect general intoxication due to unknown, presumably homemade, substances.”
Finally, he took off his gloves and stepped aside, making room for Conrad, who gently picked up the disoriented Nikola from her chair with the medbot’s mechanical arms.
“Based on the genetic code analysis and the recommendations of the corporate AI, thread Aurora-24, following the patient’s examination, I, Captain Dariusz Grabowski of task force 28-1436, hereby register the initiation of a special contract for Nikola Kowalski under the Rehabilitation, Cyborgization, and Army Service program, RCA-MPA/LM, of Watson CyberTech global organization.”
“This contract entails full health rehabilitation, including necessary genetic correction and military cyborgization. The patient must enlist in Watson Military PMC for at least ten years and until the treatment fee and interest are fully paid off.”
“Thank God,” the girl murmured, tears streaming down her face. “I did it… I did it after all...”
The patient named Nikola Kowalski was securely fastened in the medbot’s cradle, and the bot left the cursed room.
“Andrzej, prep for surgery. We’ll amputate the arms and legs immediately – no need to bring that stuff to base. Then follow the protocol: induced coma, ventilator, hemodialysis. Put a four-to-one set in the IV immediately,” Dariusz ordered as he exited the room, closing the door behind him. “Conrad, leave a corporate notice in the mailbox. Though, if you ask me, such bastards should be stripped of parental rights by default.”
The last thing the girl remembered were bright surgical lights in a special military Watson CyberTech vehicle and mechanical arms dissecting the skin on her thighs with a laser scalpel.
She screamed in panic and… woke up.
----------------------------------------
Polis Kyiv, Budget Hotel “Horizon ***”
Nikola Kowalski, August 12, 2049, 4:15 AM
“A nightmare, huh, Nika?” the young woman asked herself quietly. “That one again… Kurwa mać! Seven years have passed, but I remember everything like it was yesterday.”
Nikola sat up in bed, kicking off the thin blanket. Raising her hands, she buried her face in her palms, while the fingers ran through the mane of her long fiery-red hair. The cool plastic was calming… her heavy breathing gradually slowed, returning to normal.
The room was dark, but the bed, sensing that Nikola was awake, lit the orange nightlight at the headboard.
“A bit brighter,” Nika said, and the light obediently brightened. “Though... never mind, I can’t sleep anyway. Room, turn on the night light!”
The ceiling’s light panels glowed softly, not too brightly, in night mode.
She turned, stood up, and walked to the open window. The bedroom in the budget hotel’s economy-class apartment was small, only about eight steps wide.
“It’s stuffy... Why on earth did I wake up so early?” Nikola touched the sensor to draw the heavy curtains, and the noise and light of nighttime Kyiv flooded the room.
“That’s better!” she breathed deeply. She turned, running a hand over her forehead. The tactile sensors in her fingertips felt moisture, and Nikola stared at her hand in bewilderment.
“Am I sweating so much?”
Glancing at the top right corner of her augmented reality interface, she expanded the “date/time” and “temperature” mediaglyphs with a habitual mental command:
# 12.08.2049 4:18 (Polis Kijów)
# 19.6°C
“Damn, four in the morning… It’s still night in Warsaw… Maybe it’s the heat?” Nika pondered, looking out at the sleeping city. “Nah… It’s only nineteen degrees. Normal for a mid-August night.
“Kowalski, pay attention to the system messages please,” a quiet voice of her virtual assistant echoed in her head. “This is important! You haven’t responded to the displayed mediaglyphs for over a minute!”
“Wow, what a disaster, a whole minute! Impossible!” Nikola commented sarcastically, instinctively activating the highlighted diagnostic system mediaglyph. A translucent window appeared, highlighting her legs in yellow and her left knee joint in red.
“Marcek, details,” Nika requested, and informational prompts appeared on the screen.
# Left leg
## Knee joint, integral wear over 50%, current status 51.283%
## Fuel cells – charge 26%.
# Right leg
## Structural integrity damage to calf booster frame – 4%
## Ankle docking adapter: power line damage 2/10. Reserve: 3 lines, not engaged
## Fuel cells – charge 21.16%
“I know, I know! Razor BattleGear are great skates, but they always fry the wiring on overdrive! Marcek?!” she closed the diagnostic screen with a habitual virtual gesture.
“Yes, Nikola?” A small window with an animated avatar of the virtual assistant appeared in her field of vision.
“And what exactly did you wanna show me? Two burnt power lines out of ten? Oh, such a big revelation… I won, and that’s what matters!” The girl jumped back onto the bed, stretching out with her cyber arms behind her head.
“I wholeheartedly agree. That’s why you were going to send both legs for repair and upgrade yesterday, to celebrate.”
“Huh, but then I’ll have to use blades ‘cause I don’t have other replacement paws here. That’s not okay – they are too fast for Kyiv. It sucks…” Nika laughed it off. “C’mon, they’re meant for stunts and acrobatics, not leisurely strolls!”
“You’ve already complained yesterday that the blades are for sports and only good for running. Nonetheless, regarding the current legs, an integral wear of 50 percent or more suggests – ”
“Marcek, you’re such a nag!”
“I’m just looking out for you. Besides, you have training tonight, so you’d have put on the CL-P1 Blades anyway. But if we send the legs for repair now, they’ll be ready by tomorrow morning.”
“And you’ve already contacted the watsondons, of course?”
“Yes, Nikola, the Kyiv branch of Watson CyberTech is excellent.”
“When did you do that?” Nikola asked, fidgeting to get more comfortable on the pillow.
“Last night,” Marcek replied. “After you climbed on the table drunk and declared, I quote: ‘Jebać to! Let’s get some awesome boosters! Since the left knee screwed to hell, and I gotta changed the right shin anyway!’ End quote.”
“A respectable lady can allow herself to drink a bit… disrespectfully, in celebration of a victory.” Nika laughed, raising her right leg, stretching, and rotating her foot 360 degrees. Then she lifted it vertically and, curling her middle, ring, and pinky toes, showed a ‘victory’ sign with her big and index toes. “Check this out – cool, eh?”
“The new boosters were already in the upgrade plan,” Marcek continued, ignoring Nika’s teasing, “so I took the liberty of being proactive. According to the regulations on autonomous actions and the established budget priorities.”
“Fine, you win. What can I do with you? Start the machine.” Nika sighed, sitting up on the bed again. “Give you free rein, and you’d leave a poor girl without legs even in her sleep!”
“This is just a scheduled repair and upgrade,” Marcek noted importantly. In the corner of the room, there was a quiet hum as the cyber-diagnostic chair and mobile service station of Watson CyberTech unfolded. “The station is ready.”
Nika got off the bed. Dropping her black elastic panties and leaving only her top on, she walked across the room and sat in the chair. “Alright, get this thing going. And call for a courier.”
“Of course. Should I disable limb sensitivity during the procedure?”
“Never, Marcek. Ne-ver,” the girl replied with a grim determination. “If it hurts, that means I’m still alive!”
“Sorry, Nikola. I’m obligated to ask, it’s protocol.”
“I know.” Red closed her eyes. “Let’s begin.”
The clamps securely fastened her torso. The mediaglyph “operation status” lit up. The auxiliary manipulators quickly removed the synthetic skin strips covering the connection areas of the lower limbs to the pelvic connectors.
Two paired smart cables appeared and, like agile snakes, darted to the diagnostic ports on the upper thighs and pelvis of the girl.
# Attention! Requesting disconnection of main neural connection L1/L2, connectors P-T/L1; P-T/L2. Authorization required.
“Operation authorized,” Nikola mentally responded without opening her eyes.
A sharp burst of pain was replaced by a dull aching sensation as the main cyber-diagnostic manipulators carefully detached her legs and transferred them into the transport container for the delivery drone. By this time, the service module had already prepared the “CL-P1 Blades” – special cyber legs designed for combat acrobatics, sprinting, and jumping using additional boosters. These cyber legs were indeed not very convenient for everyday use, as they had a sporty foot without toes.
Another flash of pain, which quickly turned into tingling and tickling sensations along the entire length of the legs, indicated the beginning of the neuroconnection process, during which the auxiliary processors checked the information from all tactile feedback sensors and calibrated the neuro-map created during the initial connection.
Ten minutes later, Nika stood up, stretched, and jumped a couple of times.
Without bothering to get dressed, she headed to the kitchen to make coffee.
Wildversum Chapter 01 Nikola [https://i.imgur.com/vMVNMkb.jpg]
4:57 am, Kyiv time.
“No, Marcek, for fuck’s sakes, I’m not gonna change my arms!” her voice echoed from the kitchen. “They’re fine, just need to update the fuel cells, but that could wait until later, because fifty-six percent is a shit-ton of energy! We’re not touching the arms until we get back to Warsaw!”