I had my eyes squeezed shut from pain, as I heard the sizzling and cracking sound from the kitchen floor a few feet below me. I could smell burning plastic and metal, and felt my throat burn raw as I wallowed those few seconds in misery and pain.
Then I opened my eyes, jerking my head upwards away from the floor, whipping my hair up in the process. The pain faded back away for anger, as I realized I was staring at my sister again. Wiping my mouth despite the fact nothing had touched it, and returning to my glare as if nothing had happened. Didn’t care what that was. Probably some cybernetics nonsense. I took a step towards Chantelle, and she took a step back. My expression, that I could see in the reflective surface of one of the cabinets, looked furious.
“Kait, I-“
“Shut it.” I said, shouting at the top of my lungs toward her. I felt like I could even hear some of the silverware shake in their containers with it. Just a faint rattling, but I very easily could have been imagining it.
She went silent. That bitch. I strode up to her, and she didn’t back up this time. She was taller then me, always had been, she’d never gotten surgery to be shorter then her five and three quarters feet self like she’d changed so much else. But her height on me didn’t make me any less ready to snap at her again. I craned my head up at her slightly, still glaring.
“You’ve clearly done well for yourself since I’ve been gone. Find yourself another girlfriend with deep pockets? Or maybe it’s a boy this time?” I looked at her nice outfit, way nicer then she would have been in for work before. And her shoes that she was holding (though had since dropped) looked incredibly expensive, too expensive.
“No, I-“
“Actually, wait, sorry, I forgot that I don’t give a shit.” I stormed out of the room past her. Looking around the living room. “It reeks in here. God, why did I even bother coming back here.” It didn’t reek that much. It just smelled of cheap cleaning solution used frequently. That stuff didn’t smell bad, it just smelled bad good. My thoughts were crossing in my head too much.
“I don’t kn-”
“Nope, we aren’t talking. Not letting you do that again. Shut your whore mouth, and we aren’t going to have a problem. If my room isn’t intact though, so help me-”
“I didn’t-“
“What did I JUST say?” I shouted again, at a horrible intensity. Once again, I could almost feel the room shake with the potence of it.
She took a step back, impacting the wall, before straightening. Clamming up. It was both satisfying and aggravating. I almost wanted to keep up the fight. I wanted to keep winning, mostly. It made me feel better.
I strode down the hallway, greeted with the same doors as always. On the right, Chantelle’s room, on the left, mine. The one straight ahead utilities. I turned left, put my hand on the pad for entry. I could hear my sister coming down the hallway, almost hurriedly. I felt my stomach drop. Something was going to have changed. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed down on the pad.
The door slid open with a faint click. My handprint still recognized for opening everything here, it seemed. Or at least my room, maybe she changed the others. Chantelle’s footsteps still behind me, I stepped into the room, and opened my eyes. The door shut behind me a moment later, I hoped in her face.
Nothing had changed. It hadn’t been touched. It had even been tidied somewhat. My bedsheets had been folded up, and the bed stripped. My desk was cleared of clutter, and my holorack was organized…more organized then it had been. The projector screen on the right wall, overlaid over the window, didn’t have a smudge on it. The waste incinerator was empty. My dressers were polished to a sheen. Everything was…better.
And it made me mad. The idea of her touching everything, to try and placate me when I got back. I stormed over to the desk, ready to smash something, to get my anger out on anything, when I saw it. A folded up piece of paper, with my name on it in stupid little cursive. My sisters handwriting. We’d both learned how to write and read, even if it wasn’t necessarily necessary anymore, because our parents insisted, and we used to have fun writing actual letters to each other via courier. We’d just sort of retained it, even if now, it was just adding to my mounting anger. I picked it up, and aggressively unfolded it, reading the open script.
“Dear Kaitalane
I know you’re going to be mad beyond belief at me. I deserve it, believe me. Not a day’s gone by where I haven’t regretted telling you what I did, and having you do what I did. It’s been something I’ve had to reckon with. And I think you know that. I don’t hate you, Kait.-“
That was where I stopped reading, and promptly ripped up the letter, tossing it in the incinerator, the dull ‘fwoosh’ confirming it’s destruction. It was too damn gentle for me right now. And I wasn’t in the mood for it. I shouted out, into the unit at large.
“You care so much, huh? Come tell me YOURSELF!” I shouted again. I was lucky our unit cancelled all sound, or else surely the people who lived around us would be upset. Thank god for modern technology.
I realized how paradoxical it was to tell her to come talk after saying repeatedly how little I wanted to hear her voice, and I think she realized it too, electing to stay away. I heard her footsteps receding down the hall whence she came, back to the living room. I realized my bag was still in the living room. And that I hadn’t actually gotten a chance to eat anything. I supposed I’d just wait for Chantelle to fall asleep before doing those two things. I sighed, and fell back onto the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling which started to come back to me after a few moments. I remembered the years I spent here, old memories flowing back into me.
I could feel my eyelids growing heavy the longer I just laid there, but I refused to let myself drift off. I didn’t want her going through my bag or anything while I was asleep. I shouldn’t be this tired after waking up from a coma and not doing anything remotely intensive, but it was what it was. My body still ached somewhat, except ironically, for the areas with the newly attached cybernetics. I wondered if Chantelle had even noticed. Probably not, given the brief nature of our interactions so far, but I wondered if she’d even care when she did. Cybernetics were basically a death sentence in nation at war, we’d all grown up on old holos from the war in the rim, seeing what happened to cybernetically enhanced ‘super soldiers’ when an EMP hit. I wasn’t keen on losing half my face because of a small fix to my ear when war broke out with the Alliance in a couple of years.
I let out a long sigh. I’d have to get them replaced with something biological, fast. It would be a bit expensive, but I’d rather be alive then dead or disfigured and a bit richer. I’d go try and find a clinic for it tomorrow, and pay them a visit. I had always thought biological replacement was cheaper then cybernetics, at least nowadays, but I guess the Empire had some way to cut costs. Ugh. I wished I could just move. If only anyone outside the Empire gave a damn.
The thought of the cost cutting and my peculiar medical care caused my thoughts to drift to what had just happened in the kitchen. Whatever I’d done, retching up lasers, melting the floor…what was that? Something leftover from the procedure? It had to be. Some heat caught in me or something.
A horrible thought dwelled on me, itching at me after a few seconds of considering it.
What if I had powers?
Not only was firing lasers from my mouth such a horrible sounding power to have, I really didn’t want to be a protean. Especially not in the Empire. I’d just escaped the draft, I didn’t want to get right back into the thick of things. If you had powers in The Empire, you worked for the government, end of story. There were rare cases, people too useless for the government to use, but they got marked, tracked, and ‘released’ in case they found a use for them later. Sure, I might get to choose my flavor of hell, but if my power really was shooting lasers, I was probably working on one of the local ‘hero’ teams or going straight back to the front…or worse, off world to somewhere else in the Hive. Urbos to stave off the Legion, or Aquos to be a deterrent against Argetlam. None of those were appealing options.
So I resolved to myself that I didn’t have powers. And it was just another complication of the Cybernetics. I couldn’t imagine the Empire would have let me go if I had powers. They just wouldn’t have. I dropped the topic in my own head.
I kept trying to force myself to stay awake. Just look at the ceiling. Just think about how angry you are.
But even then, it didn’t really work. I slipped off into sleep without even really noticing the transition to it.
I dreamt of fire and death. A field of black sand beneath my feet, I was bathed in blood, sweat, and my own tears, as I trudged forward. My feet leaving behind marks I didn’t recognize, despite my feet appearing as they always had. My body was making noises I didn’t recognize either, like the clanking of metal. Clicks and clanks, the entire way, as I advanced towards the horizon, which looked like I had seen on the battlefield. The sky coming apart into fragments, to rain down onto a field of sheer bloodshed.
Eventually, I stumbled into what seemed to be an oasis, a serene pool of pure water at my feet. A ripple across it’s surface pulling my attention away from distant flashes of light, rains of blood, and the sounds which permeated my very being. Staring at the center of the water, I saw my reflection. Over half my body gone, replaced with that uncanny synthetic that I had thought only made up small parts of my body. The false Kait, the synthetic Kait, smiled wide in the reflection, while the real me, the part of me that had been made human, looked on in terror. A guttural scream, a mix of pure human fear, and the jovial grinding and shifting of metal.
And that’s when the lines began to blur. In my own reflection, I could no longer recognize what was me and what wasn’t, the uncanny sensation spreading to my entire being. Kait was starting to vanish, the cold feeling I had felt in my feet, fingers and ear spreading to every single aspect. But there was still something in there. For each bit of cold, warmth, human warmth. But it no longer was recognizable.
In a panic, I fell forward into the water. The ripples and bubbling bits of air rising towards the surface as I sank, flailing, hoping that I could escape whatever it was that threatened to consume me so thoroughly. But as my gaze turned upwards, towards the sky above the water, I was met with only despair, as the fragmented sky brought itself back down onto me again. In those final, desperate moments, I started to change. A metamorphosis going on in my very being, my flesh moving to shift to some intangible whims. I felt something move to shield me. A warm embrace.
And then I was torn from it. Awoken in a small pool of my own sweat which had stained the sheets beneath me. The projector screen still off, allowing a bit of muted sunlight through the window. It was well into the afternoon. I had been more tired then I had thought. A dozen thoughts flooded into my head, as the details of my dream in turn began to fade. I remembered the terror, and the feeling of unease, but the exact feelings ceased. My first thought was that of paranoia. My sister. What if she had come in while I was sleeping? I quickly looked around, and dismissed that idea, nothing seemed off. I could check the door logs in a moment. The second thought was to my body. I felt myself all over, specifically my left hand, right foot, and right ear. Everything in place. Though I did notice something odd, as I held my hand over my chest.
It felt heavier. Like a weight was lingering on me, just beneath my skin. My blood ran cold.
I quickly sat up, and practically threw myself out of bed. The heavy feeling didn’t subside. And that’s what worried me. I went into my dresser, and threw on an outfit. I noted that some of my old cloths were smaller on me then they had been, but that wasn’t my worry at the moment. Once I was dressed, I fished around in my bag for everything I’d need to go out. Wallet, holo, ID chip. Slipped into the pockets of the baggy V-neck hoodie I was wearing without much trouble. I had made sure to pick long sleeves and long pants, to make sure no one could make out the cybernetics. It wasn’t something that would start a fight or anything, but it make me uncomfortable, which was enough. It was close enough to spring that it would be uncomfortable, but it was better then feeding my paranoia. Besides, I should only have to hide them as long as it took me to get an appointment with an organicist, which I would do right now. I thought about calling, but I wanted to get whatever was going on with my chest checked out too.
I checked the door logs before I left. Chantelle hadn’t gone in while I was asleep. Thankfully. After that, I left my room, ensuring to lock it behind me with my handprint, and headed out of the apartment. Chantelle seemed to have left another hand written note on the counter, I look one passing glance at the cursive script and wanted to wretch. I left out the front door without giving it as much as a second thought. With any luck, this would be a quick errand, and I might even be able to come back tonight with organic parts.
“-So, we’d be in violation of section 17-” The receptionist at the Organicist repeated for me the second time, in a tone that made it very clear that I was straining her patience. I just stared at her dumbfounded.
“So you can’t remove them?” I say, sounding both offended and scared at the same time.
“No. We can’t. They’re flagged as government property. Which means if we remove them, we’re legal-”
I sputtered out something incomprehensible, before reining myself back into the realm of speaking Imperial.
“Why? Is this normally what they do for people they do procedures on without consent? Lock them into a death sentence?” My tone was starting to sound angry.
“Well, ma’am, according to your records, it was done out of medical necessity. And under sections 12 and 27, if your life was at risk and you were otherwise incapacitated, the head doctor on call is empowered to make any decision they would like in terms of how to operate. It seems that whoever had your operation performed decided that these were for the best. They truly gave you the best of the best, enough so that they’re considered too valuable to be separated from you. I’m truly sorry.” She didn’t sound like she was very sorry at all. I felt like my face was going numb.
“…And what about the other thing I mentioned? Can you do something about that, at least tell me what in hell is wrong with me?”
The woman frowned, and checked something on her holo. “The…heavy feeling you mentioned? Yes, we found something quite odd. Look here, please.” She allowed the holo to be seen on my side of the desk. I looked at it. An X-Ray. Or more rather, three of them side by side. The one on the right seemed normal, a human ribcage and the other bones you’d expect. The middle one seemed odd, though. The entire image was covered by one large white and blue slab, which almost seemed to be receding. And then on the left, the entire thing was covered, almost matching completely with the outline of the ribcage.
The receptionist pointed to the leftmost one. “That one was taken first. The middle one-” She pointed to it “Was six seconds later. Then that last one was ten seconds later.”
I fell into silence, as she gestured at the final x-ray. The heavy feeling was gone, I had noted. That, combined with this revelation, made my blood run cold again. After about five seconds of awkward silence, she spoke.
“I don’t think I need to get the doctor out here to tell you that this is very concerning, Miss Evergreen. This isn’t normal. I could get you a referral to a better office then this, to get this seriously looked at.” She then sighed…and gave me a pained look. One which reeked of pity.
“Now, that sort of thing will cost a good deal of money. So, if you don’t think you’d be able to shoulder it…I think we could chalk it up to an error with our scanners. Tragic, to give you a scare like this, but these things do happen.” She gave me a pointed look. I slowly nodded. The numb feeling everywhere now. I couldn’t afford the type of higher office she was talking about. Not even with the pretty high bonus I’d been given during my discharge.
“Right.” I said slowly. “Just an error. Thanks for…all your help.” I turned to leave, barely registering a ‘Your welcome’ from the receptionist.
That was that, huh? I was just fucked, with some kind of weird bone disease that I couldn’t hope to fix, along with cybernetics that were a death sentence and that I also couldn’t get removed because for god knows what reason the Empire had decided to damn me.
I knew it was too good to be true. I glumly walked to the transport station, pausing when I a saw a projected map nearby. My route home took me by somewhere familiar.
I decided to go visit some friends.
I leaned up against the wall outside the larger unit, and pressed the artificial doorbell. I couldn’t hear the result, this unit, like so many others, was soundproofed, but the door panel beeped after a moment or two with recognition. A voice coming through it loud and clear.
“I told you, I’m not signing your damn petition-”
Drake’s voice. I sighed, before speaking aloud.
“Not even for a poor maimed war veteran?”
I could practically hear his voice perk up in real time. “Kait? Why didn’t you just say so?”
Without another thought, the door opened. I leaned off the wall, and moved front and center in the doorframe. Drake was standing there, in all his glory. He was an athletic guy, a bit taller then me, his hair cut short enough to be a buzz cut, which was new to me. He had a goatee which was the only trace of facial hair. He wore contacts that made his eyes appear whatever color he wanted, currently, they were a very light orange, almost blending in with his tawny skin. He was wearing a tank top with a band logo on it, and a pair of stretched jeans, straight out of the 40’s. I rolled my eyes slightly.
“Still haven’t fixed your door camera? Place as nice as this-” I started, and he cut me off.
“You know I keep it broken on purpose. Makes me feel gross.”
I laughed. True. I did know that, even if I didn’t understand it. I leaned in, and gave him a bear hug, and he returned it. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I said, as I was pulling back, a huge smile on my face.
Drake raised his right hand, a synthetic imprint of a ring visible. A part of his finger which glinted gold. “Husband, now. And Ezra’s working. I’m lucky to get to do mine from the net. But more importantly, I thought you had a few years left at least. Not to mention the worry that you’d get liquified-how’d you get out? You aren’t really maimed are you?” His tone shifted to being worried on a dime.
I felt a pang of guilt realizing I’d missed another thing in their lives. But there wasn’t anything to be done about it now. I lifted up my hand.
“Only a bit.” He was squinting at it, but eventually saw it. His expression turned grave.
“Are those-“
“Cybernetics? You bet. Courtesy of the Empire and so called medical necessity.” I said with more then a bit of vitriol in my voice.
He winced. “Been to an Organicist yet? Don’t leave those in for long, I’ve been seeing a lot of news about potential war with the Alliance, an-“
I visibly winced, and he stopped. Giving me a softer look instead.
“I already went today. They can’t remove them. Apparently they gave me some kind of military shit, and removing it would be considered stealing or some shit. I have half a mind to go to a stitch-clinic instead” I said, exasperated sounding. Drake gave me a strange look, beckoning me inside.
“Funny you should mention that. Come on in, might have an idea.” Drake stepped out of the doorframe, and started walking further into the unit. I tagged along after him. Giving a weird look towards his back.
We emerged into his living room, a weirdly comforting set of blue and purple lights casting over the otherwise dark room. Drake’s netrig was in the darker corner, the faint lights still on indicating he had a few programs on pause. But he ignored it, and instead moved into the rather large kitchen. “Can I get you anything, by the way? I can’t imagine Chantelle has been stocking anything that tastes better then the shit you got in the army.”
I snorted, angrily given the subject matter. “You bet she hasn’t. Haven’t eaten since last night, gimmie your best.”
Drake nodded, removing a few packets laced in shiny foil-higher end synthetic food, and put them in his multi-cooker. I took a seat on the couch in the meantime, checking my holo. I had my sister blocked, so the ‘Fourteen blocked messages’ notification didn’t shock me. I sat in silence for a second, before Drake walked over with two plates of nice looking steak. Ignoring that the cow population of the Hive was critically low, it looked pretty good.
As I started eating, Drake held off a second and kept speaking.
“So, I think I might know someone who might be able to help you. Though I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
I swallowed. “Anything’s better then being stuck with these.”
“True that. So. Riley got a new gig. They’re working at a clinic down in the Rooks. It’s not a Stitch-clinc, but-“
“It’s basically a Stitch-clinic” Which really only meant that they had the papers to pass a basic inspection, and were licensed to perform some front facing operations. The news about Riley was a bit concerning though. We had dated awhile back. Before they had come out, and our lives got complicated. We just split off. We still shared the core friend circle of Ezra, Drake, Chantelle and Xena, but we were never as close as we once were. We weren’t on bad terms or anything…but it was going to be weird.
“Right. The main issue is the location. The Rooks have only got worse since you’ve been gone. Actually dangerous territory, most of the security forces got drafted. Gang turf now. Riley gets there somehow, but…if you go, be careful, Kait.”
I pondered that. Asking my ex to facilitate surgery on myself. Great. But did I have any better options?
“…Thanks for the info, Drake. I think I’d better get going-” I stood, having finished my food. Drake stood after me, giving me a weird look.
“…You’re welcome to stay, you know. I heard about what happened from Chantelle. I can’t imagi-“
“I can, trust me.” I said, tone growing cold.
“Not what I was getting at. Clearly your unit isn’t a good place for you right now. Why don’t you stay for a bit? We can wait for Ezra to get home, and we can hang out like the old days.”
He looked concerned. As tempted as I was to go home, get my stuff together, and head straight to the Rooks, I…really needed to talk to people who didn’t make my blood boil. And the clinic wasn’t going anywhere. Or at least, it wasn’t changing it’s locale on this much of a dime. I had missed this guys…the reasoning mounted by the second, so I gave a slow nod. Sitting back down.
“Sure. I’d…like that.”
A few hours later, and I was getting on my tram with three more bottles of alcohol in me then I’d had a few hours ago. Ezra was tracking my holo to make sure I got home safe (much to Drake’s annoyance, he hated trackers).
Speaking of Ezra, his pale ass hadn’t changed a bit. Just as thin and lanky as he’d been months ago. I swore he was allergic to gaining weight. His hair was a nice green now, though. Still, it was really good to see him. They had talked about how nice the wedding was, and they seemed legitimately sad that I hadn’t been there. Which made me, paradoxically, feel a bit better about it. We talked about the others (Riley’s graduation from Med School and Xena apparently having taken up a new profession as a singer in one of the upper city clubs, leaving her writing days behind) and about what Chantelle had done (They seemed a lot more sympathetic and less dodgy about discussing about it once I told them the full extent. Ezra even blocked her on his holo in front of me, though I had the feeling it wouldn’t last). On happier matters, I told them about my lucky discharge, and not about the rest of the terrible things I’d seen and arguably done. Ezra told me about his new job at a new office, what he was working on in the labs, and Drake went on and on about maintaining the net without any connection to the outside humanity. Boring stuff. They were both massive dorks, but they were familiar massive dorks. And it brought me no small amount of comfort to just hear them talk. Plus, alcohol helped.
Eventually though, it got late enough that I didn’t want to intrude any longer. And thus I left the unit, and went on my way back. On the tram, I mostly just looked out the window instead of at my holo, to avoid getting motion sick. After I got off at my station, I began walking back to my unit, and soon scaled the stairs to it. Pressing my hand to the side, it slid open, and I walked inside. Thankfully, my sister wasn’t waiting to ambush me. I went through the fridge, and started eating a half full cup of berries she’d left behind. They were Silvos types, with long names, but they were real fruit, and they tasted better then anything I’d eaten since before I left. I ignored the second note that was above the first, tossed the cup into the disposal unit, and went back to my room.
I checked the logs again. She hadn’t come into my room. Relieving.
I was about to go shower since I hadn’t done that since getting back, but then something caught my eye in my bag. The communicator chip the nurse had given me. For the person who had brought me flowers in the hospital.
It had been eating at me slightly, and now was as good a time as any to answer the burning question. I plucked the chip out, withdrew my holo, and plugged it in. A contact appeared. The name “Harlan (L)” at the top. Under that, it read “One new message”. Very few other details, outside of the comn number, and a very old NetSpace account username (a very dead social media platform). I didn’t know a Harlan. Which made me pause.
But realizing that if this was a virus, I already had it, I just selected the new message.
Appearing in front of me was a figure of a taller man, with well tended to shoulder length black hair, and cool close to golden skin, which paired with soft green eyes. He didn’t look modded, but it seemed like he was definitely descended from modders. That wasn’t the most concerning part about him though.
He wore a familiar set of black body armor. A 52. issue rifle over his shoulder. A helmet under his arm.
Last spoke clearly and calmly.
“Kaitalane. If you’re listening to this, then very obviously, you’ve made a recovery. At the time of this message, things seem hopeful, but a few days ago it was far from certain. I know you must have a lot of questions about what happened, and what’s to come next. I’d love to give you answers, if you’d let me. We’ve both seen some shit, and we’re the last survivors of Blackwell’s unit. That has to count for some kind of solidarity. I can’t leave everything I want to say on this chip. When you get this, call me, and we can arrange a meeting. If not, I understand, I might be a bit too close to what you want to leave behind. Enjoy your discharge.”
He paused for a long momet. Before leaving on a final statement.
“You probably already saw. But my name is Harlan. I hope to introduce myself in person soon.”
Then the message ended. My heart was pounding. Without a second thought, I pressed the call button on the contact.
It went to his voicebox. But instead of a verbal message, text appeared in front of me.
“This is Last. As of 13/17, I’ve been deployed on a three week OP. Happy to return calls when I’m back. Glory to the Empire.”
A small microphone symbol appeared, indicating I could leave a message. I hesitated before speaking. He had left two days ago.
“Hi Harlan. This is Kaitalane. I’d love to meet up, whenever you’re back-”
Kindling And Miscellany 