Cybernova, p.4
Cybernova, page 4
I navigate for a minute or two through the various healing cybernetics available, selecting one that looks particularly promising. I switch into hologram mode, inspecting the implant as the Screen demonstrates its functionality. This particular module is a minor implant that is capable of quickly repairing minor cuts, burns, and bruises to the skin using a combination of bioengineering and nanotechnology. A holographic representation of a person getting injured and then healed is played in front of me.
“Cerulean, save that one for later.”
“You got it!”
I’m looking at new cybernetic enhancements, but only minor ones, which I could need going forward. Over the course of this week, I’ve made up my mind: I’m going to take down CYBR Corp. Zeke has been trying to talk me out of it. He says it’s suicide, but I can tell that he’s starting to give in. He hates CYBR Corp as much as I do, as much as everyone does. There’ve been uprisings and protests in the past, many with widespread support, but every single one was ground into dust the moment it started. That’s my theory: they were too well supported, too public. The second CYBR Corp catches wind of anything standing in the way of their all-encompassing global domination, they destroy it.
They corrupted the world’s governments, ruined the natural order of the planet, and infiltrated every single aspect of day-to-day life. Every government official, business executive, and law enforcement officer around the globe belongs to CYBR Corp. Even if you run your own small business, like Zeke’s Fixer-Upper, most of your income goes to keeping CYBR Corp from throwing you onto the streets. He has to work eighty-hour weeks just to pay rent and property taxes on his tiny clinic. They’ve been increasing the costs nearly every year he’s owned the place, and believe me, I’ve heard all about it. The truth is, if you agree to let them buy your company or go bankrupt so you’re forced to, then they’ll back off, let you do business, and take one hundred percent of your profits. But Zeke has not, and never will, allow that to happen. Frankly, I can’t think of many people dedicated enough to give an official, entirely legal “fuck you” to CYBR Corp by simply refusing to go out of business quite like my best friend.
So yeah, maybe Zeke’s right. Maybe trying to take down CYBR Corp is suicide, but if my death is what it takes to tip the scales and wake people from their complacency, then so be it. Besides, I won’t make it easy for them.
This world has suffered long enough at the hands of CYBR Corp, so if no one else is willing to take them on, I will. However, there’s an elephant in the room here…I hate cybernetics. Throughout my life, it’s become increasingly apparent to me that the more cybernetics you have, the less human you become, and the more significant the change, the greater the impact. For example, getting a cybernetic arm has only a slight effect, hardly more than traditional prosthetics. On the other hand, getting your brain implanted with machine learning AI software turns you into a cold, calculating monster in no time. I’ve seen the damage these types of “enhancements” can cause, and it is horrifying.
So yes, I still hate those sorts of cybernetics, and I feel that there should be severely stricter regulations on what is and is not allowed to be cybernetically enhanced.
I would never, and will never, get any enhancements that are not absolutely necessary. If I hadn’t lost my arm, I wouldn’t have gotten a cybernetic replacement. If my hearing and vision were perfect, I wouldn’t have fixed them. But some things are never necessary, and that’s what I’m avoiding at all costs. Brain augmentations, especially, are out of the question.
That being said, I stand no chance against CYBR Corp in my current status. I don’t know what else to do, and if I fail in this mission, I’ll not only be letting myself down, but more importantly, I’ll be letting down those I care about. By helping this stranger and killing those four troops, I’ve effectively sealed my fate and Zeke’s as enemies of the law. Either I succeed in dismantling CYBR Corp, or everyone I know and love will be hunted down and killed.
That’s why I’m most likely going to need new cybernetics. That’s why I cannot afford to lose this fight. If I can find a way to win with the tech I have, on my own power and skill, there’ll be no need to change myself. But when the cards are down, and it’s a healing implant or the death of everyone I love, I know which one I would choose. I also need to be realistic here. I can’t win an MMA fight against most of those chromed-out behemoths, so the odds of me taking down the major-league metallic monsters on CYBR Corp’s payroll with my current cybernetics are…slim, to say the least.
Just then, Zeke bursts into my little room with a crazed look in his eye, snapping me out of my contemplative state.
“He’s awake!” Zeke exclaims.
“No way!” I reply, smiling wide, “you beautiful son of a bitch, you actually did it.”
He responds with a quick nod and a thumbs up, then begins rushing back toward his operating center, which is at the opposite end of the bunker from the living quarters. I follow right behind, eager to find out who this mysterious patient really is. Zeke has been operating on him for a week straight, doing everything he can, both medical and mechanical, to bring him back to consciousness. We almost lost him a couple of times, and at this point, I was starting to think he would never wake up. Zeke, on the other hand, would never give up on anyone. I know this better than anybody.
We make it to the small room with a bed that Zeke placed the guy into, and I can see him there, half lying down, half sitting. He appears to be in his mid-forties, with graying, light-brown hair which has been cut short. Looks like he’s devouring one of our rations and some water. After a week of being unconscious, I would be hungry too. I laugh softly to myself at the sight, which is loud enough to get his attention.
“So, you must be Oliver,” he states, his voice hoarse but friendly, “according to Zeke here, I have you to thank for saving my life.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that, I simply fought off some Retribution assholes. Zeke’s the one who brought you back from the brink,” I reply, flattered yet trying to remain modest. This provokes a hoarse laugh, followed by some coughing.
“Sure, if you consider taking on four Retribution troops at point-blank range to be an easy task!” He pauses, taking a sip of water. “Well, thank you anyway, Oliver.”
“Sure thing…” I pause, not knowing his name.
“Dexter, my name’s Dexter Jones. You can call me Dex if you prefer.” He has a kind, somewhat tired voice. There’s a bit of an accent behind his words, but I can’t quite place it.
“Well, Dexter, nice to finally meet you,” Zeke interjects, “I was startin’ to think it was never gonna happen!” The New York accent tends to flare up when he’s excited.
The room falls quiet for a few moments, all of us seemingly collecting our thoughts. Eager to learn more about Dexter, I break the silence:
“So, I have to ask, what did you do to piss off CYBR Corp? You must’ve done something more than just miss a payment on your tech, considering they sent a whole unit after you.”
With a chuckle, Dexter responds, “I wasn’t planning on telling this to anyone, but it would seem we’re in this together.” He pauses, clearly considering what he’s about to say, “you’re not going to believe me.”
“Try me,” Zeke and I respond in unison. He is just as interested as I am in Dexter’s story.
“Alright,” he pauses again, a distant look in his eye, “I used to be one of ‘em,” another pause, “I worked for CYBR Corp.”
As the words fall from Dexter’s mouth, I can feel my stomach drop. Countless possibilities run through my head, none of them good. CYBR Corp employees are strictly tracked and monitored, which could be why they were able to track him to Zeke’s clinic. And doesn’t that mean he was one of the people responsible for ruining the Earth and its societies? I have so many questions, but nothing will come out of my mouth. I’m frozen with the daunting fear of the worst corporation in human history breathing down the back of my neck.
After an uncomfortably long pause, Dexter breaks the silence. “I know what you must be thinking. I know that none of it is good, and I probably deserve it. But please, hear me out.” He takes a deep breath, followed by a deeper sigh. “Yes, I worked for them, but I never wanted to. They forced me into it, threatening to kidnap or kill my family if I didn’t work for them for the rest of my goddamn life. Maybe I had a choice, but when it comes to saving the ones you love, wouldn’t we all make the same decision?”
I make eye contact with him, and I can see everything in his eyes. The regret, the guilt, the anger, and most of all, the fear. Fear that they will find him, that he can never stop running, and that he will never be safe. I’ve seen this look in the eyes of those around Nova City. Everyone feels this way, if not as intensely as Dexter does.
My initial thoughts begin to fade, and my view toward Dexter softens once more. However, there’s one thought that’s haunting the back of my mind, one speculation that I cannot shake. I need to ask. “Don’t they track every CYBR Corp employee? Is that how they found you at Zeke’s Fixer-Upper? You’re probably being followed right now!” I become increasingly fearful the more I think about it.
“No, we’re safe. I got a buddy of mine to remove that damn tracker as soon as I left. It’s been removed for a few days. You can see the damage if you want.” He rolls back the tattered sleeve of his black long-sleeved shirt, revealing a messy set of stitches in his left forearm. The skin around it is purple and swollen. I can see Zeke physically hurt by the sight of it. He may not have an official medical license, but he has standards.
“Well, that’s good news, at least. I gotta tell you, though, it hasn’t been a few days. We’ve been here a week already.” I say, trying to break the news gently.
“Oh, wow. And you took care of me this whole time?” Dexter replies, looking gratefully at Zeke.
“Sure did, like I’d go givin’ up on ya’ just ‘cause I don’t know you?” Zeke replies somewhat indignantly.
“Yeah, that’s not Zeke’s style. You’re in good hands here.” I add.
“Thank you, thank you both. I truly don’t know how to thank you enough.” Dexter says, smiling through a coughing fit.
“So we’re good, no trackers?” I ask, wanting to reassure myself.
“No trackers. They can’t track me, not any more than they can track you. They only found me at the clinic because I messed up. I never should’ve gone back…” Dexter trails off, an intensely deep remorse falling across his face. For the first time, I can see through his upbeat demeanor. I can see the years of hardship and the physical toll that living in this city takes on you. He looks like he’s been through hell several times.
After a few moments, his impossibly upbeat demeanor returns, and he continues, “I do apologize to you both. I know I haven’t exactly made things easier for you.”
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not like we had to save you. We knew what we were getting into here. If we didn’t want to pick a fight with CYBR Corp, you’d be lying in some alleyway in the middle of the Maintenance District,” I try to lighten the mood, earning a couple of pity smiles from Dexter and Zeke. We’ve been through too much recently to truly enjoy ourselves, but we try. I just hope Dexter knows that we’re not his enemies.
I can’t quite figure out what it is, but something about Dexter tells me that he means well, no matter what the circumstances may be. “And I hope you forgive me for asking, Dex, but what did you do at CYBR Corp? And what drove you away? I thought no one ever leaves anymore.” There is no possible way I will be able to relax until I have the answers to these questions, which are burning themselves into my mind like an itch I have to scratch.
“Yeah, I suppose I do owe you boys an explanation, especially after all you’ve done for me. I would be happy to—" He is interrupted by a coughing fit. He coughs into a white rag Zeke has given him, and I can see that it’s been stained with blood. “I do apologize, but perhaps we could revisit this another time? I don’t feel so good at the moment,” Dexter politely responds.
At that, I can see his mask fading away once more, and the tired, demoralized face beneath becomes revealed once again. Dexter is in no shape to be grilled for questions, no matter how intensely I need to know the answers. It can wait.
“Well, you heard the man, Olly!” Zeke snaps to attention, clearly not willing to lose this patient, to lose Dexter. He looks tired, too, so intensely tired, but he would never let that stop him from being there for those who need him, no matter what hour it is or how much sleep he’s gotten. I genuinely don’t know where I would be without him.
“Yeah, yeah. I know all too well how difficult it is to recover from these sorts of injuries. I gotta sleep anyway.” I try my best to appear cheerful and optimistic for both of their sakes.
As I walk back to my room, I can’t help but wonder what Dexter’s answers to my questions will be. I hope it’s nothing terrible. I want to like Dexter. He seems so kind and sincere. Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to trust him because everything I’ve come to know revolves around the fact that CYBR Corp and everyone who works for them is the enemy.
Who could this man be, and have we made the right choice in saving him?
I suppose it doesn’t matter, not really. We can never go back home. I hadn’t really thought about that until now. I shiver at the thought, the daunting truth that I will never go back to my apartment, back to my old life of complacency and consistency. Then again, I never was happy with that life. The moment I decided to fight those Retribution troops in Zeke’s clinic, I knew what I was getting myself into. Nothing will ever be the same, but for once in my life, I feel like I have a purpose.
CYBR Corp will pay for what they’ve done.
Ch 3
SOONER or later, this moment was always going to come. I had thought that when it did, I would be ready, but I feel incredibly nervous, almost jittery, like someone injected pure caffeine straight into my veins. Then again, what did I expect?
It’s been about two weeks since we started hiding in the bunker, and we’re almost out of food and water. The past week has consisted mainly of Zeke and I taking care of Dex, slowly getting to know him, and trying to figure out the next steps of our chaotic existence. Initially, there was a month’s supply of food and water for two people. However, with three people and the fact that Zeke and I seriously miscalculated how much food and water people actually consume on a daily basis, we’re in a bit of a pickle. That brings me to here and now. It’s time to step foot in Nova City again, for the first time since committing one of the worst crimes you can commit in this city: killing Retribution troops. If they catch me now, it’s all over. I will have endangered those I care about and thrown my life away, all for nothing.
Regardless, I have to go, and my window of opportunity is rapidly closing. Around 16:00, the guards in the Food District change over, and for just a couple of minutes, the supermarkets will be somewhat less monitored than usual. I say somewhat less because there will still be dozens of self-monitored security cameras, any of which could identify me, dispatching a squadron of Retribution troops to my location in seconds. An entire squadron is eight troops, and I barely made it through four with the advantage of surprise on my side.
Let’s be real. It was mostly luck.
The only reason we’re considering this and not a more questionable method of getting food, namely dumpster diving, is that we’ll be able to fool the cameras using an obscurer. And we can’t use a food delivery app for several reasons: one, a stranger would have the exact location of our bunker; two, the payment would have to be verifiable as us, further confirming who we are; and three, CYBR Corp owns everything, so the company said stranger works for would then transfer our address and identities to CYBR Corp and…you get the picture. Long story short, we have to go buy groceries in person, and I’m the one stuck doing it.
At least I have this obscurer…That definitely won’t fail.
An obscurer is a relatively simple yet handy piece of equipment that allows you to hide your identity. The science behind it is that it sends interfering electromagnetic waves around your head, which makes your face appear fuzzy and distorted to the security cameras. They can’t identify you, so no Retribution squadron is turning you into a crisp.
Hopefully.
I nervously check the Holocomm on my wrist. It’s 15:58, almost go time. I check that my wakizashi is securely fastened to my waist. I only took the smaller one of my two swords because it’s much easier to use in small spaces and it’s easier to conceal in public.
I’m hiding in the darkest alleyway I could find near the supermarket, which isn’t too hard to do. In other parts of the world, the late afternoon is still very bright outside and is not a time when you might hide in a dark alleyway. In Nova City, a sunny day is seen as something to celebrate since it’s always overcast here. This partially makes sense because Nova City is located on the ocean, but in reality, the majority of the clouds and storms are caused by years of CYBR Corp’s heavy pollution.
16:00. It’s go time.
I step out from the alleyway I was hiding in and make my way toward the door of the supermarket. My hands are shaking uncontrollably as I walk through the doors. I have to stay calm.
Come on, Oliver, you look like milk and eggs scare you. They’ll be onto you for sure.
I take a few deep breaths and buy my groceries as quickly as possible. Just some essentials: canned goods, dried meat, rice, water, and a few bottles of the cheapest rum I can find, which is, of course, Long John CYBRs. And yes, the taste is as bad as the name, and don’t even get me started on the label design, but it gets the job done. What can I say? Living in this city turns everyone into a bit of an alcoholic, or an addict, or both.
