Interlogue:
"Pain. Arms," Jim slowly mumbled. He was sitting on the floor, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he absentmindedly ran the tips of his index and middle finger over the inside of his bent arm. He involuntarily sucked in a desperate breath that caught in his throat. The sudden action caused a sharp pain to slice through his throat. His head had a slight jerking motion to it as he looked around with wide eyes.
"No." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Where?" He gasped as he felt the reminiscent pain on the left side of his head. "No," he cried out. "Not here any more."
The tingling feeling started deep in his gut. "Bubbles..." He put his hand to his stomach and flattened his fingers out. His eyes remained wide as a small smile began to form on his lips. "Bubbles..." His mouth opened to say something else, but it quickly snapped shut.
Suddenly, he threw his head back and a hysterical laugh erupted. His body slumped to the ground uselessly as he continued to laugh, the sound reverberated off the thick concrete walls of the abandoned building he was now laying in. Just as suddenly as the laughter had started it stopped. A large tremor worked it's way through his body causing his arms and legs to jerk out at random times. He grit his teeth as a sharp burning sensation flared through his right hand.
Blackness collapsed on top of him like a tsunami and his body went still.
[-]
Mass confusion swam across his mind, which caused his heart rate to speed up. He cried out desperately as he clawed his way through the fog in his mind. His brain seemed to sit on top of his eyes and a sharp nagging sensation irratated his senses as he drudged forward. "Where..." His voice echoed around inside his skull and it was so loud that he screamed out in pain. "Not here any more."
More pain. More screaming.
[-]
She was seated a few feet away from him and she welcomed the tugging feeling that had drawn her here. It was reaching out towards this man. Jim. That was his name. He was 64, but his body helled the youth of the day he'd died.
He'd committed suicide a year ago at age 34. That fact and every other fact of knowledge about him seemed to come from no where and fit perfectly in her newly compartmentalized mind. She could see the files arranging themselves.
Objective: "Protect Jim." One order. One program. Protect Jim and she had all the means to do so. No resolve, no weaknesses, and most importantly, no conscious.
Her body flickered, becoming see through for a second before snapping to a form of solidity that she hadn't felt in a very long time. "Protect Jim."
[-]
Jim awakened with a groan. He felt warmth coming from some where to his left and he smiled when he realized there was a fire place. Warmth. Fire. Warmth.
He shuffled across the thick carpet on his knees to get to the fire place. His eyes stung with almost tears. He let out a small laugh as the warmth seeped in to his skin and he closed his eyes as it seemed to sink in to his bones. It'd been so long since he'd been warm. His eyes snapped open and he froze at the sound of foot steps behind him.
"Jim," the voice said. It was female and the way it said his name sounded like a declaration. His heart leapt as he analyzed all of this in an instant. His mind seemed to stretch out, then snap back in to place as he realized that the person standing behind him was someone he could trust. "Familiar," he whispered.
He quickly turned his head around and he was staring in to the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. "Familiar," he said in a monotoned voice. The girl standing in front of him appeared to be about fourteen. "No!" He roughly shook his head.
Woman, she was a woman. Her body appeared to be fourteen, but she was older than that. Much older. "Ninety eight." His eyes widened slightly as a steady stream of information about her began to flow in to his mind.
"Familiar," he said firmly.
Her demeanor was calm and confident as she said, "Yours. Familiar."