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You Can't See The Sky
Chapter 87 — New Beginning

Chapter 87 — New Beginning

New Beginning

A few days later. Early morning, where the sky wasn’t even bright gray below the clouds.

Phesx Caolia woke up in a small room from an apartment just a few streets from the factory. Getting off bed, he wore the new ordinary clothing he was given before wearing a cap, glasses, and a fashionable mask of a skeletal mouth to cover his mouth. Then, he went out and met the world that was slowly returning to normalcy after his mess.

Walking across some streets, he went into the Plastics Recycler Factory. He met Mena at the reception, who made him wait a minute before opening the double back doors for him. Phesx walked the usual, but this time with his face uncovered, except the mask. He liked hiding his lips.

Meeting with the medical center, Phesx directly walked to the same room he’s been visiting before knocking on the door. The doctor opened it to let him in, and so, another day began.

Sitting, in the chair, Phesx looked at the doctor, awaiting something. The doctor brought a few stacks of documents before sitting in front of Phesx. He seemed to check a few things before beginning, “I’ll make this quick for you, alright.”

“Your body has been studied enough. We can proceed to put you your new arm, it will be a massive improvement. We could even call it an evolution,” the doctor commenced. Phesx interluded, “How much would that cost?”

“Well, your biology allows it to happen. Otherwise, it would be a gut bion, but it won’t be necessary. It won’t even be a void, no bion. Just your arm, with a very thin, most processed Mintip you could ever find.” The doctor explained.

Phesx lifted his left eyebrow. That had to mean something. It could be that his position in PSD was well appreciated. Phesx’s question was still not answered, though, so he asked again. “How much would that be?”

“It… I think it’s better if you know after the operation. It will take about a week before you grow used to your arm, since it’s you. If it was another person, even a Captain, they would be unconscious that long before even learning they somehow kept an arm.”

“Here are some details,” the doctor said, passing some documents to him. Phesx grabbed them and became wordless, the handicraft was… simply beautiful. It was a type of exoskeleton, but more related to bones than anything else.

His bones had to be removed, but not entirely, as they were too damaged and even smashed away. Like a main source cut away, they ‘rotted’. Meanwhile, the Mintip added into his arm would take the place of those bones that must be removed, but it wasn’t a bone structure added in. More like the infrastructure of an enormous building, be it with cement, wood, or Courusel machinery production. Phesx’s Mintip arm parts were to keep his arm with what made it an arm.

Some pipeline or tubing around his arm were the main focus of this addition, turning his entire arm not just into a completely healed one, but one that had defense of its own, without any bion or armor. Phesx’s arm would become a piece of armor in and of itself.

He would also naturally carry a tremendous force with that arm, besides doing something only the highest biotech could do. This ultra processed Mintip could adhere to his body, adapt to the evolution that Phesx’s body had gone through, and may still go on with.

Phesx could potentially improve his strange uniqueness with the new left arm, also retaining them in his arm. With this, there was, of course, the prospect of filling his body with these properties and further enhance his evolution.

As long as they weren’t bions, and it was the simple, purely instrumentation of ultra-processed Mintip into his body, Phesx would remain a human, and not a cyborg or humanoid mecha.

“When can the surgery start?” Phesx asked the doctor, feeling good about it. He didn’t show any emotion, as always, though. The doctor nodded, already used to Phesx, but still disappointed to see this reaction. “We’ll do it today. It might take 3 days, but the best time would be 1 day.”

“3 days is fine. I could use the rest,” Phesx nodded before expressing. The doctor followed in the gesture. Then, Phesx added, “No more experimentation with my body. I won’t allow it.”

“Yes. Of course,” the doctor nodded. Phesx repeated the notion. They had already talked about it, so the doctor was clear on Phesx’s detest for being treated as anything but a brief client. The doctor showed the rest of the documents to him.

“Now, here are some complicated matters to explain. Phesx, you’ve been diagnosed after all these days, getting a lot of us to work day and night to finish as quickly as we could.” The doc said as Phesx looked at the documents. Then, the doc spoke atop Phesx’s reading.

“You’ve been detected with 18 different types of cancer. The most ‘advanced’ is lung cancer. However, there’s this something with you, Phesx. Your… body is not allowing itself to die just from these… conditions. They are not what is keeping you alive, but rather, they are just stagnant there, like filth between furniture. Except, nothing can’t be done with these. And… they’ve already started taking a toll on you, perhaps since a couple of years.”

“…” Phesx lifted his chin and gazed at the doctor. That was a lot of information to take in. Phesx thought back to a few moments that weren’t that few after going through them anymore. When he processed a little, he frowned and looked around before asking, “Am I dying?”

“Yes. You have been for the past few years, is what we believe. An approximate of how long until… maybe 30 years, Phesx.” The doctor responded, falling silent afterwards. Phesx looked up, slightly furrowing his eyebrows before asking with a little shake of his head. He gave no importance to the former. “Does this also affect my fertility?”

“I was just getting to that,” said the doctor, “Your overall sexual capabilities do seem ‘immortal’. They’re all perfect, and the sperm count is healthy. Yet, while you do have fertility, it is negligible. You should be able to impregnate a woman, but your sperm… We’ve got to name it ‘self-destruction’. It simply loses all its ‘life’ away and becomes ‘nutrients’ instead.”

“The same happens to your blood, sweat, saliva, and even your urine. It’s not balanced. Your sweat and saliva had the most ‘regular’ properties, while your blood has the largest.” The doctor went on as Phesx refocused on the documents. “You could actually help someone heal an injury. We haven’t researched enough to know the extent, but we’ve discovered something peculiar.”

“If you don’t wish for it to be extracted, or to ‘heal’ someone’s wounds, your fluids only help like a disinfectant. But if you do, as you did to those guineas in comparison to the criminal subjects we tested, it does seem to work.” The doctor became a little excited as he went, and growing more.

Phesx also became a little intrigued. He was clearly not thinking about his dying state. Thus, the doctor continued without obstruction, “Your urine doesn’t seem to do much, but it can, haha, affect the air, you know? It loses smell after 10 minutes in the open air, in a sterile environment or not. It lasts longer, but it also takes longer to ‘heal’ anything. It’s only with living beings, no objects or dead lifeforms are affected.”

“So, I could… make someone drink m-” Phesx slowly asked. The doctor cut him off, thankfully, “Essentially yes, or pour it. You get the deal.”

Phesx smirked strongly from the left corner of his mouth. The doctor smiled, too. Then, his expression calmed down again as he continued, with Phesx awaiting still. “You have anxiety, Phesx… depression, and autism. This is important, you must meet a therapist to continue activities in the District.”

“Go on,” Phesx directly said, somewhat serious, and heavily breathing in and out. The doctor nodded, “You have also been diagnosed with schizophrenia. Paranoid, catatonic, hebephrenic, undifferentiated, and there’s the possibility you’re also residual. It’s… a full set, of sorts.”

Phesx remained silent and breathed in. At this point, he didn’t even know if having more made a point, but he let this continue. The doctor still had more important mentions to elaborate on, “You have psychopathy, too. Phesx. Quite a strong ‘one’, too. But your EQ has shown enough potential to… balance it out, so to speak.”

“Mmn,” Phesx lightly hummed. Before the doctor continued, Phesx smiled, self-mockingly, and wondered out loud. “Just how is a hoog secret organization to require something from me, then? Isn’t it ridiculous that they’ll spend so much for me, who has these absurdly many issues to work with? What worth would I even make in their eyes?”

“It’s not just your body that has evolved. If you didn’t have a mentality and mindset like the one you have, even one of these conditions is enough to jeopardize any person, even you. It isn’t, and the reason is obvious. You’ve proven your worth, and you even learned that art. There’s almost no one in the world who could, but you’ve begun learning from it.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“…” Phesx fell silent, or continued to be so. He thought of the many things that have happened since Preut. If he hadn’t lied in that government therapy one-time session, would things have drastically changed? Ultimately, it was always him refusing whatever help was thrown at him, on his face, just before him.

“As for your eyes, well.” The doctor took a deep breath before beginning again, “You have severe polycoria, persistent pupillary membrane, also known as PPM, and tunica vasculosa lentils. However, there are some new properties that might be worthwhile announcing. Phesx, we’ve discovered a few new conditions, and we’ll like you to name them, if you would like to.”

Phesx softly lifted his eyebrows before blowing light air from his nostrils. He sat up on his stretcher before hearing the doctor out. The beginning of… finally learning about himself, and accepting it, had begun.

… Shortly after being revealed all the things he hid in that little head of his, and his body, Phesx was brought to the operations room. He met each of the other doctors and surgeons to work his body and recuperate his arm.

They would have to amputate it so they could begin taking the bad parts of bones out and introduce the ultra Mintip in. At the same time, they ought to keep a connection with Phesx’s body, to let both detached arm and body and mind know it wasn’t over yet, as they proceeded.

Phesx had to be constantly sedated, with not just red syringes but raw, mashed herbal consumption to keep him steady. It was found out that Phesx wasn’t allergic per se, but his body refused the ‘treatment’ that any medicine gave him. Fundamentally, processed ingredients were like a disdainful beverage for his body and mind.

However, when consuming the whole thing raw, even when mixing it with other unprocessed products, it could work. Many formulas were being experimented, but those to put Phesx to sleep and not feel horrendous pain had been intricately researched for this operation.

The rest would come at a later time, when Phesx was long into the world of PSD and the others, who were being paid well to aid Phesx’s future life as a special agent, continued researching.

Like this, days passed as Phesx’s arm had long started to reconnect with his body, no longer a flesh lump that dangled from his side, and soon to become such a powerful weapon.

. . .

11th month, 3rd week’s 7th day.

Phesx opened his eyes in a bright room. It was morning, and the light came from the sun, which was high up and the people way below were moving nonstop. He sat in his stretcher in an open space, with only curtains blocking his immediate left and right.

Standing up with ease, Phesx took his shirt off and looked at his arm. It was just as always, but new and unchanged. However, he felt the ultra Mintip inside his body, and more so as he moved around. Testing his nimbleness, Phesx felt like an invisible itch all over his body disappeared. He sighed, facing the ceiling after throwing his head backwards.

Phesx relaxed his body, his arms, everything. Then, he walked to the windows. He realized he was still in the factory, only at a high floor and alone in an infirmary. There were a few people walking and sitting here and there.

After staring at the city, Phesx walked away to a reception to ask for clothes. He still had 5,000 credits now after renting a cheap apartment and buying some food.

… First, Phesx moved down to the training areas. There, he met Mena, who was seemingly waiting for him, at the entrance. She brought him to the new recruits’ section, where she simply left him there and returned to whatever other duties she had.

Phesx was met with frowning, curious faces. It was no secret who he was, but nobody was foolish enough to denounce the District, or ask why he was here. After some disdain and challenging glances, the training regimen began.

Phesx had no problem getting used to the activities. The trainer, a 1st Grade special agent, taught them a bit of the breath and the need for their bodies to grow resilient and gain stamina, not just strength and reflexes.

The first day went through, with Phesx learning that the Piya Sanctum District’s learning experience was pretty different. If he had to put it in some words, at least in the entry level, it was like watching videos on the internet. It was all brief, simple. But one had to work harder.

Repeating the same thing over and over again while tiring oneself until the calves hurt and wrists could barely turn, evening came, and the training ended, at least for the actual new recruits. Phesx was more than fine, and with his left arm, he felt even more healthy than ever.

When heading out of the factory, Phesx stopped to talk to Mena, as hundreds of others exited the factory from the main entrance, too. She received him with a polite smile, “What is it?”

“How can I make money?” Phesx bluntly asked. Mena looked at him with scrutinizing, quiet eyes, “Well. Let me get ahead of the District. We encourage our special agents to find a business, own it, and live with the expenses from it. Tasks pay well, but the expenses to improve are enormous. For example, I get a little paid working here, especially if I’m injured and can’t go out.”

“But I also own a Dawn stylized restaurant where most of my money comes from. I usually don’t craft my own things, so I don’t waste my credits too much in getting bions or ammo. We are meant not to rely on each other in these matters, and are advised to find a source of income for ourselves. This way, we won’t be tracked or connected, letting us, the District’s SAs, live, get rich, and contribute.”

“Oh, I see…” Phesx nodded, a bit lost. Mena noticed and pressed her lips together before offering him advice, “We have a list of possible good business everywhere. From Proteros to Lymaospasó, Lydfe, and Lydhua. I can let you take a look, if you promise to give me a discount in the future, hmm?”

“… There are workshops here?” Phesx nodded, but he fell silent, processing her words. Mena smiled, putting her hands on her hips and strongly nodded, “Oh boy. You have seen nothing yet.”

With that, Phesx thanked the helpful young woman before exiting the factory. He had something to do, and it was very simple. He had to find a therapist so the PSD would see him cooperate, and get to business soon.

It was soon night, but there were therapists who worked morning and night, during the day and late night, and so on. Phesx had a list, as he couldn’t just go to anyone with his identity. It wasn’t cleared yet, and Phesx didn’t even know how it would be cleared up.

More so, Phesx had no idea what to expect from the PSD. He was just continuing living, nothing else. If there was something to look forwards to, Phesx didn’t have it. Although he was indeed curious of Lýmoca after Butler spoke of their direct involvement with the government, it was nothing.

Walking for a few tens of minutes, Phesx arrived at a building with wide glass gates and tall windows. He went in, checked with the receptionist, and waited until it was his turn. The receptionist looked shaken when she saw him, but didn’t do anything odd.

When it was Phesx’s turn, he was called into the therapist’s office, where he closed the door and met the first therapist he would try to work with. 2 minutes later, Phesx walked out without giving anyone in the building another glance.

Once outside, he took another look at the list before heading in another direction. He didn’t have a phone or anything to aid him, but he wanted to remain alone. Thus, he used the technological panels around the streets to locate himself.

Little by little, the night became late, and Phesx returned to his apartment. Sleeping for a few hours before returning to the factory, and when that was finished in the evening, he went out to hunt… for a therapist, again.

A new routine commenced.

. . .

1 month later.

Phesx had gone through countless therapists, from getting in touch with them on the internet to meeting them in Proteros, Phesx has met many people daily who were supposed to aid him. The result? Not that great, and always a correct expected feeling of disappointment.

… In one time, Phesx met an old lady who was elegant and sophisticated, with a slow, patient voice, but that also required patience. It was fine in the first few minutes of their ‘tryout’ session, as Phesx had to make a ‘test’ to see if anyone would take him, of which a third declines him.

“How are your feelings lately?” The old lady had asked, but Phesx was an empty shell that began dreaming of murdering targets and killing SAs, who felt much nicer to kill than criminals. Should he tell her that? Of course not. He couldn’t. So he simply replied with, “I don’t feel anything.”

And from then on, the old lady looked at him. It wasn’t an awkward moment, or one where she sweated because she didn’t know how to continue, she just didn’t speak at all. If it wasn’t because Phesx could hear her heartbeat, he would’ve believed she was dead or dying.

… On another occasion, Phesx met with a middle-aged man wearing a simple, gray suit. Trim-short hair and benevolent facial resting expression.

Phesx had to begin first, as the man smiled thinly and nudged his head towards him, as if asking what was the problem. Thus, Phesx bluntly spouted, “I don’t think of anything else besides trying my new… equipment. I always remember that day in Sargonde, wondering how much easier everything would’ve been… Especially when I could protect someone.”

“I don’t think I can help you,” the therapist said with sweat falling even from his butt, tweaking in his seat.

… There was also this time when Phesx was the one to walk out. He met a young therapist, a young man, who had a rockstar image and long, wild hairstyle. Everything went well for 30 minutes, until Phesx said something he now knew not to say when he felt his instincts warning him.

“I always target either the neck, brains, or heart when killing my enemies. It depends on what I feel my enemy deserves.” Phesx had spoken. The therapist’s eyes contents dilated a bit. “How is that so? Please, elaborate.”

“Well,” Phesx elaborated, gesturing to the parts of the body each time before resting his hands when explaining why. “Brains. It is the execution less meaningful and with possible hatred meaning behind it. Neck. Neutral; I killed most of the targets I had doing something to their neck. I also like seeing them choke in their blood to those who try to kill me…”

“Heart is for respect. If I kill someone by striking there, selectively and with a choice to do otherwise, it means a lot to me. I suppose?”

“…?” Phesx looked at the therapist after finishing. The young man rubbed his palms on his thighs out of excitement and licked his lips. Phesx decided to stand up and leave after the therapist said the following ‘comforting’ words.

“I think what you’ve done is very meritorious to the country. Many people, especially for under paid, discriminated guards and patrolling keepers from any job. They’ve complained to the Supreme Court Justice because of not allowing them to be reimbursed in case something does happen to them. Have you thought of killing more? This could help…”

Slam. Phesx left the place at once, slamming the door and all. He wasn’t afraid, he just felt like that therapist was like someone trying to recruit him to the other side. Phesx was not like that.

However, not everything was lost. Today, Phesx would meet with a therapist who was just at the center of Proteros, and where Phesx now knew a few terrains could be bought to build a house. If one was to buy even more terrain, then they could just build a mansion, owning an entire block for themselves.