Chapter 1: Nobody
"BEWARE LOYAL CITIZENS! While our armies continue their victories against the machines, a new threat is appearing back home. This threat comprises certain augmented beings, among which there may exist terrorists and spies sympathetic to the machine cause. This potential Fifth Column must be stopped for the security of our nation! All loyal citizens are requested to report all suspected cyborgs to the local authorities, who will arrive to escort them to a place of internment, for their own safety. REMEMBER: Do not approach such individuals directly! They are extremely dangerous! The safety of mankind depends on your actions!!"
United Nations Anti-Robotic Military (UNARM) public relations poster, Zion Archives
---
Her fingers ran over his naked back, her touch soft, cautious. He tensed, forced himself to relax, feeling the thrill of fear as the girl moved over the implants. He felt her falter, then pause. A sharp breath. Terror and excitement.
Decker turned to look at her, but she had already turned away, in the pretence of examining the wall. But truly it was to avoid seeing him, to avoid detecting the curious blue-light of his enhanced eyes, driven by a consciousness somehow transformed.
How rigidly she held herself! She was almost machine-like in her behaviour, an embodiment of machine-like deceit. But the machines were never good at lying, and her distaste emanated like a dark flood. The dichotomy of hatred and love. So very close. Through the plastic window, he watched the lines of tracer file coil across the sky. Such beauty in death.
"Do you think we will win this war?" she asked, suddenly. Neutral language, careful not to offend. But he could sense the exclusivity of the 'we'. He was not 'we'. Victory would be attained despite of him, not with him.
He shrugged, but she did not turn to look. "Probably. The machines have not exploited their victories in the Mid East and Eastern Europe. The Asians are successfully holding them off - perhaps they find it hard adjusting to oriental thinking? And our scientists are working hard, incredibly hard to equip us with new weapons."
"I hear they are trying to find the new command codes."
This was a statement, not a question, but he answered it anyway. "They've been doing that since the beginning. Supposedly, broadcast this code, and you can command all the machines to terminate. Will never work. But they will try anyway. A much better idea than blackening the sky, or whatever craziness the Americans are proposing. Worth anything to end this stupid war, for the good of us all."
But she did not respond to his goading, and in silence he put back on his clothes. The shirt covered the power socket. Trousers concealed the muscle-upgrades. The overcoat hid the rest, with a pain that made him wince as the material brushed over raw flesh. With a grimace, he put on his spectacles and made for the door. The drone of a snatch-bot sounded in the distance, and he paused, as though he expected to hear the screams.
"Why are you here? Why aren't you helping the machines? You're not human, you're one of them."
He looked back one last time, augmented eyesight filling in the dim depths of the apartment. Photos lined the wall where she was staring. A young man, in uniform. A couple laughing. And there, in a shining puddle, were her tears. He tossed her a few credits. Payment brings respect.
"Humanity is what we choose to be, not a function of biology."
And Decker was gone, melting into the obscurity of the night. At once another anybody, and then just another nobody.
"BEWARE LOYAL CITIZENS! While our armies continue their victories against the machines, a new threat is appearing back home. This threat comprises certain augmented beings, among which there may exist terrorists and spies sympathetic to the machine cause. This potential Fifth Column must be stopped for the security of our nation! All loyal citizens are requested to report all suspected cyborgs to the local authorities, who will arrive to escort them to a place of internment, for their own safety. REMEMBER: Do not approach such individuals directly! They are extremely dangerous! The safety of mankind depends on your actions!!"
United Nations Anti-Robotic Military (UNARM) public relations poster, Zion Archives
---
Her fingers ran over his naked back, her touch soft, cautious. He tensed, forced himself to relax, feeling the thrill of fear as the girl moved over the implants. He felt her falter, then pause. A sharp breath. Terror and excitement.
Decker turned to look at her, but she had already turned away, in the pretence of examining the wall. But truly it was to avoid seeing him, to avoid detecting the curious blue-light of his enhanced eyes, driven by a consciousness somehow transformed.
How rigidly she held herself! She was almost machine-like in her behaviour, an embodiment of machine-like deceit. But the machines were never good at lying, and her distaste emanated like a dark flood. The dichotomy of hatred and love. So very close. Through the plastic window, he watched the lines of tracer file coil across the sky. Such beauty in death.
"Do you think we will win this war?" she asked, suddenly. Neutral language, careful not to offend. But he could sense the exclusivity of the 'we'. He was not 'we'. Victory would be attained despite of him, not with him.
He shrugged, but she did not turn to look. "Probably. The machines have not exploited their victories in the Mid East and Eastern Europe. The Asians are successfully holding them off - perhaps they find it hard adjusting to oriental thinking? And our scientists are working hard, incredibly hard to equip us with new weapons."
"I hear they are trying to find the new command codes."
This was a statement, not a question, but he answered it anyway. "They've been doing that since the beginning. Supposedly, broadcast this code, and you can command all the machines to terminate. Will never work. But they will try anyway. A much better idea than blackening the sky, or whatever craziness the Americans are proposing. Worth anything to end this stupid war, for the good of us all."
But she did not respond to his goading, and in silence he put back on his clothes. The shirt covered the power socket. Trousers concealed the muscle-upgrades. The overcoat hid the rest, with a pain that made him wince as the material brushed over raw flesh. With a grimace, he put on his spectacles and made for the door. The drone of a snatch-bot sounded in the distance, and he paused, as though he expected to hear the screams.
"Why are you here? Why aren't you helping the machines? You're not human, you're one of them."
He looked back one last time, augmented eyesight filling in the dim depths of the apartment. Photos lined the wall where she was staring. A young man, in uniform. A couple laughing. And there, in a shining puddle, were her tears. He tossed her a few credits. Payment brings respect.
"Humanity is what we choose to be, not a function of biology."
And Decker was gone, melting into the obscurity of the night. At once another anybody, and then just another nobody.