Flesh and Alloy: A dystopian novel

by Nathan Lunn

  Upon arrival, I set up an exclusion zone and activated the camera drone to begin recording the area. It was immediately easy to see why there had been so many calls about the area – there were multiple fatalities to deal with before documentation could begin, though they were extended far through the slum area – I had to increase the space of the exclusion zone, and call for backup from another retrieval and booking team.

  Five bodies, horribly charred to various lengths, were found inside of a partially-destroyed mobile office, four of which were armoured mercenaries employed by Ellie Croft for her event, and the fifth an unidentifiable woman with no available pass details, despite multiple checks by multiple machines. It is unsure at this point both when and by what the unidentified woman was killed. A litany of broken weaponry was discarded on the floor, popped by a discharged Class-E retarder poison that was later identified as a military issue. Further investigation by overhead drones revealed three more bodies, hidden to varying degrees, and dumped around the broken housing, all necks snapped as the method of murder. They were later ran through the system and passes details revealed them as:

  ● Adrian Keels;

  ● Tom Kendt;

  ● Njada Cull

  The pings in question that had gotten Captain Montgomery so worried were a result of the most brutal of the murders, however: dismembered in an alleyway near to the mobile office, each of their limbs torn and thrown into various corners, the body of Eddie Albart was found. It is currently unsure who the criminal at large is here – no person was found near to the body, but an unidentifiable individual's blood was found, perhaps belonging to the woman in the office. It is known that the Retarder poison used in the office had been activated and subsequently owned by Mr Albart. Bringing the pieces of the body to the laboratory for further study, we were able to piece together the cause of death – puncture wounds in each limb, and the lower back and head of the body had led to a bleed out, before he was then ripped apart. Small purple chips could be seen inside the pools of blood. Further progress will be recorded as unveiled.

  * * *

  Case Number: MM 05/04/01/3462

  Update input on: 12 March 2142

  Reporting Officer: Captain Charlotte Montgomery

  Updating on Constable Friar Willis’ report. After analysing the unknown blood near Mr Albart’s body, it has been found it is of a different type than that of the woman in the mobile office. Further searching showed signs of an extended scuffle.

  The smaller purple chips have been identified as nanobots, dead and decommissioned. Our experts managed to reactivate three, which immediately joined together and melted into a straining mass. Destroying them was hard, but separating them proved easier in their weakened state. Following these chips out of the town proved futile, as the trail quickly petered out to no outcome.

  It is worrying, though interesting, looking at these events a few days on. Ellie Croft’s subsequent disappearance, joined with the lack of comment from the Croft family and the increasing danger to their wellbeing, despite the consistent hiring of armed guards, has proved confusing to say the least. Speaking from a personal point, I wonder whether the deaths of all of the individuals and the CAAF Cares event were connected. It is highly unusual for such content to be of note in the slum areas, and we are due to keep a posting around that area for the remainder of the season, in the hopes for residents to come forward with more information, either of the events of the day or the individuals we have found and yet to find.

  32

  The gaping wound in Kye’s face was causing him tremendous pain, the drugs still ebbing from his system were causing confusion, and his cybernetic arm hung limply from his side, seemingly entirely drained of its energy and caked in a thick sticky substance that oozed through the cracks of the nanobots and slowed his movement down. He had been walking for a few hours, stumbling down close cut pathways and actively avoiding anyone who happened to be out and walking at this ungodly hour. His clothes were tattered, and as such his arm was hard to hide, so he decided to duck into a nearby dump to try and find a suitable cover; after a few minutes of searching he settled on a long grey dustcoat with a tear down its side and an pungent smell that was almost too much to bear. He was grateful that it at least managed to keep people away from him, though he knew it would need to be lost after he had gotten cleaned up.

  His wound had almost fully congealed, and was beginning to stop dripping, when he made it to the outskirts of the city. Though day was breaking over the looming buildings, it would be a few hours still until it reached the lower passageways – it was here in the waking darkness that Kye had to manoeuvre, avoiding both working individuals on their way to their jobs, and those sparse recognition towers which had been set up here. It wasn’t easy, especially when he couldn’t see, and the impatient pushing of morning commuters aggravated him further. After a particularly rude man slammed into his shoulder, he was done. Restraining himself, he moved back into the shadows, clenching and unclenching his fist whilst breathing hard. Shattered memories of the past few hours were only just coming back to him, as the dampening effect was removed from his body – everything past the insertion of the serum was a fused blur, and it would take a few moments to piece together the mess into something resembling a proper memory. Kye didn’t have this yet, so he kept moving, working his way through the city until he reached the Sellers’ Market.

  Some stores were just starting to open, whilst others were closing for the day, each yelling about starting and finishing sales, pushing their products on Kye as aggressively as possible in an attempt to make their first or last sales. It seemed as though all sellers were unfazed by his damaged and frantic condition, choosing to instead change their selling strategy as one of healing instead of the regular spiel. He waved them off as successfully as he could, completely sure of where he was planning to head and intent on getting there as fast as possible. Even before he arrived, he was hit with a wave of nausea, surprise and worry.

  Glennon’s Pharmaceutical Wares was smoking from the inside, a thin trail leaving through the top of the tent and alerting him of the issue before he had even stepped into it. When he did make it inside, it took him a moment to see through the single eye he had left at what the scene actually was. The middle table had been broken and burnt, belching out a thick smoke that tasted toxic when Kye breathed in, mostly trapped in the tent and escaping through the top like he had seen; further past this were the safes, untouched and in almost as good a condition as they had been previously; dropped in front of them, a single bullet hole in each forehead, were Glennon and Elroy. They were not moving. The wounds looked as though they were fresh. Blinking with his good eye, wincing at the sharp pain the smoke was causing his wound, Kye moved out, coughing and spitting to the floor when he reached the cold air.

  “Ay, pal! Get on out of here, come on!” A tattooed man whom Kye thought he may have recognised from Flea Corner stepped out of the darkness, holding his hand out and planting himself between Kye and the tent. He looked back to check everything was in order, then looked back at Kye, gasping when he noticed his condition. “Jeez. You ought to get that checked out, you know. Just stay away from Glennon’s,” he added, only looking to Kye out of the side of his eyes, unable to stare directly.

  “What…” Kye gasped, bending over and wheezing loud, transforming first into a cough, then into a scream as a new bout of pain laced across his face.

  “Hey, pal, you okay? You need proper medical attention…” The tattooed man started forward, but Kye waved him off and tried the question again:

  “What happened here?”

  The tattooed man straightened back up.

  “Some wackjobs in suits came through a few hours back, shot out Glennon and Elroy then razed the place. I called the cops, but, you know. They’re terrible for answering calls at the Sellers’ Market, never mind one from this close to Flea Corner.” He stuck his hand out, muscles rippling as he waited to shake Kye’s. Before Kye could reach out, he t
hought better and stuck his hand back down, introducing himself from a distance instead. “I’m Robin, I knew Elroy.” A grave look cast over both their faces, and Kye looked up, opening his mouth then closing it, deciding he didn’t need to share his name.

  Filling the silence, Robin spoke. “Upsetting he’s gone.”

  Kye nodded, coughing again – a scratchy rough sound that hurt with each spasm.

  “Hey, you should really get that looked at. That cough don’t sound too great either.” Kye kept his eyes on the tent. “Get to the hospital maybe?” Kye knew he wouldn’t be welcome at the regional hospital, and that the machines would deny him help anyway, so he stayed quiet. Robin frowned, tapping at his temple, murmuring, “Maybe I should call for an ambulance…”

  Kye looked up, a feral look in his eyes, wheezing out, “No! I’m okay, just, which way to Flea Corner?” Robin pulled his hand away, cancelling his call, and answered Kye, pointing to the north of the market.

  “Over there. You need medical help, pal.” Robin moved back over in front of the tent, clearly finished with the conversation. His eyes narrowed until Kye turned around and started walking to the north.

  ***

  It appeared as though Kye’s interpretation of the bootleg hospital tent in Flea Corner had been right the first time – it was not nearly sanitary enough to be properly medical. The tent was overly lit, the bright white of the bulbs causing a great amount of pain to Kye’s single eye, and it really only served to weakly distract him from what was going on, and highlight the thin layer of dirt that infested each of the tools and surfaces inside. The receptionist had made him wait an hour before he was allowed to pass out of the first tent and into the second, unsurprisingly named the ‘Surgery Room’. Once he was there, he lay back on the raised table, passing cash to the man in scrubs, wincing internally at the costs. No words were spoken and no questions asked by the man about to operate, but Kye managed to speak, requesting he just fuse up the wound, and extract any difficult material still left inside his eye. As the man pulled a syringe from his pocket, Kye grabbed his arm, preventing him from applying the anaesthetic – he murmured something about not needing any, knowing that he would be hit with too large a dose if he was given any, and needed to stay awake for the whole procedure. Instead, Kye pointed at the booze on the shelf, and once it had been handed, flicked the lid off and downed a quarter. It hit instantly, only serving to dullen the pain receptors, not remove the stimulus entirely. Nodding, the man began his procedure.

  Even with the alcohol, which Kye made sure to refresh halfway through, it was a torturous procedure. The tools were crude, and the skin fusing took twice the time he expected as a result of the weak flame; the UV light the man blasted over the wound to begin with was set to the wrong intensity, with no way of remedying the issue as the knob to alter it was long broken and discarded – this was also used on his cybernetic arm to clear out the blood stuck deep in the crevices and seams. The small tent did a great job of echoing Kyle's own screams back at him, though very few managed to slip out through his clenched jaw. By the end, his neck hurt almost as bad as his eye, and when he finally relaxed it there was an enormous cracking sound. Eddie's original serum had long worn off, and the throbbing in his temple had died down to a low pulsing by the time he was discharged back into the streets. Kye took the opportunity to have some of his lighter bruises looked over, as well as the seam between his cybernetic arm and his shoulder, knowing he could count on the knock-off surgeon’s discretion. He paid an extra handful of cash, physical to avoid any tracing, and moved out of the room, grabbing the bottle of alcohol to keep for himself. Before he finally left, he looked back at the surgeon, inquiring about if there were any uppers going for free. The surgeon shook his head, and Kye, content with the booze, decided to leave without spending any more money.

  Back out onto the street, his arm cleaned and his wound at least fused, Kye set about the next thing on his agenda – purchasing a replacement eye at the smelter and refurbished upgrade station across the market space. Thankfully, there was a limited queue, and he was able to get to the point of sale in no time, with limited stares. Kye decided to slip the booze back into the pocket of the dustcoat before he spoke to the shopkeep.

  “I’ll take a quick guess what one you’re here for,” the shopkeep said, ducking under a plunging metal frame to reach Kye’s side. Pointing up at his blank eye she continued, “New optical unit?” Kye nodded, and the woman went on with her sales speech. “Well, we got plenty coming in, but only a few in the store this morning. All wonderful crafts, and we jailbreak them so there’s no hint of the previous owner’s neural fuse – a useful skill, considering their point of origin, mind you. Most of our batch comes from the military nowadays, discarded, broken, removed and the like.” Kye looked over to the smelter once more; the white hot casts hung, cooling down and blocky in shape. The shopkeep waved her hand back, flashing too little teeth for her smile to come off as disarming. “It’s undoubtedly the cheapest you’ll find in the Sellers’ Market, certainly a better price than you’d get at the hospitals.” The shopkeep moved through the smelter, picking up various items before returning to the front desk and lining them up in front of Kye.

  There was a limited choice, but Kye pretty much had himself set from the moment he saw them placed down. Two of the eye implants were clearly military issues, built up with a few enhancements – this suspicion was confirmed when the shopkeep moved down the line, explaining each choice, highlighting only the main features of importance:

  “This here has the Eagle Eye modification, with enhanced zoom and targeting features – and this other military issue can be changed to thermal sight.”

  Kye shook his head, avoiding the blocky metal designs of the first two and pointing to the second. “This is probably closer to what I need. Something anonymous,” Kye replied.

  “Well, can’t get any more anonymous than this ImitaSuit option! Sleek, unnoticeable and realistic.” The shopkeep pushed it towards him, the small sphere rolling towards Kye’s outstretched hand. He grabbed at it, missing on his first attempt due to his impaired accuracy. Trying again, he picked it up, and brought it closer to his good eye. The ImitaSuit iteration did indeed look realistic, almost to the point of revulsion as Kye moved it about in hands. Passing the sphere back to the shopkeep, he spoke.

  “This will do. How much do you want?” The woman tapped her temple, and pointed to the back of the shop, where a small chair stood, a targeted light to its left shining down on the dirtied fabric.

  “We’ll handle application first. Just head to the chair and my colleague will assist you.”

  Kye followed her gaze, moved to the chair and took a seat. A short hunched man scurried over, snatching the eye from the shopkeep and kicking a lever that dropped Kye to his level. His spoke, his crooked teeth spraying spit at Kye’s waiting face.

  “Imita ay? Boring choice.”

  Kye wiped his face, scowled at the man and replied, leaning back to initiate his second procedure of the day, “That’s right, I want inconspicuous.” The man laughed, and grabbed a tool, gripping Kye’s hair tight as he forcefully tilted his head back. “Watch it! What’s so funny?”

  The man spoke fast,. “Yes, yes. Inconspicuous. Though are you sure you don’t want to go for a more useful option? Just that face isn’t very inconspicuous in the slightest, oh no!” He giggled, and Kye snapped at him, tenderly touching the jagged new scar that ran down his face.

  “Just apply it. And no more talking.” He lay back, and the man got to work, plugging the eye into the open socket (a surprisingly painless operation) and tapping away on a tablet to begin integration with Kye’s commlink. Having been recently fried, the integration took a little longer than expected, but soon it had connected to Kye’s optical nerve, and his sight was back. The feedback seemed a little fuzzy to begin with, and the weird blend of natural vision on one side, and diluted on the other resulted in a headache-inducing outcome. The short mechanic muttered to hims
elf, tutted and tapped the tablet first, then slapped the back of Kye’s head next. The vision cleared, but Kye sat up and whirled on the man, sick of the berating and abuse he had felt throughout the procedure. The man shuffled off, clearly finished with his work, and the shopkeep walked over, speaking as she did.

  “Apologies for Brendan, he has people problems. And are you satisfied with your purchase, sir?”

  Kye stood back up, blinking himself into familiarity with the system and his sight being back. “It will do, yes. How much I owe?”

  The woman clapped her hands together and moved to the desk once more, tapping a sum together, still selling the product as she went. “A very good choice I would say, sir. I can offer you a reduced price for this model actually, as we had it refurbished from an old war veteran and he was kind enough to donate it to our shop here. I’ve sent you the bill now, though if you see, I have added on the price of application just on the end there.”

  Kye tapped his temple, bringing up the receipt, and snorted. The price was incredibly expensive, and, without wanting to give any complaints, he paid and left the shop, moving over to the nearest bar to finish off his hidden bottle.

  ***

  Kye had been drinking for a little while, buying by the bottle instead of by the glass, at a nearby bar, and showed no signs of stopping. His new eye was settling in, and as he grew accustomed to it, his memory started to return about the night before. This was less than helpful, as he was trying his hardest to block out the thoughts and memories of what had actually happened, so instead of reflecting on it, he decided to drink. He drank until the memories went hazy, and then drank some more, remaining guarded of his bottle and keeping to himself entirely. When the vendor cut him off, citing an overwhelming lack of aptitude for handling copious amounts of alcohol, he moved to the next bar, drunkenly staggering through the marketplace from barstool to barstool like a ricocheting keg looking for its next tap. The day passed by into night as he continued to drink, and finally his eye had been entirely acclimated into his commlink, no longer moving sluggishly or flickering with weird colour variations. His arm had remained in a permanently numbed state the whole time, reduced to its regular form and slowed in proportion to his usual movement. Growing tired, Kye chose to leave, dropping off the remainder of his bottle into a nearby roving rubbish bot – he slid slowly from side to side as he walked inbetween the meandering customers, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. He was sure that a few of the people he walked between avoided him completely, disappearing from his sight as they passed out of his peripherals. It was almost as if they were fading together into one big moving block of people, a maze of sorts, that Kye had to make his way around before he got to his home for rest. He looked up to the buildings and decided to call for a cab–