by Jack Truxton
“Don’t worry,” I found myself saying, trying to sound comforting through the hood and respirator. “I’m just going to take you so that you can get repaired, okay? Updated so that you can do your job better.” Sure, I didn’t know exactly why Annie was going to reprogramming, but that was a safe enough white lie. I just … I didn’t want to see Annie cry.
“Yes, sir,” she replied automatically, though there was an undercurrent of disbelief in it. Again, that shouldn’t be possible, Kats were supposed to take the word of authorities and Katsukami employees at face value. Maybe that’s why she was here, to fix a deviancy in her obedience parameters.
Whatever it was, she stepped out of the cell without dispute and started to walk towards the elevator, letting me follow her without question. Her shoulders were slumped, and it felt more like we were walking down Death Row than headed to fix a few little problems. This didn’t feel right, and every rationale my mind brought up about this started to crumble. Product or not, artificial creature or natural, the emotions Annie gave off were just too real to get out of my head.
Unfortunately, before I could sort everything running through my heart and my brain, we had already walked down the short holding area and into the elevator, the double doors sliding open automatically before us. It was more of a freight elevator than a normal one, easily twice the size on all sides, with bare metal walls, floors, and ceilings. I couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be buffed out scratches and scrapes in the steel, and maybe scrubbed stains of various sorts. There was even a drain in the floor, much like the holding block.
The LCD control panel next to the door didn’t wait for me to press a thing, the doors sliding shut and the thing lurching to life before we even had a chance to turn around.
That was it. Things were getting too strange, too off-putting, especially the way Annie stared at the floor, occasionally sniffling as if she seemed resigned to some horrible fate. This sure as hell didn’t seem like it was a simple ‘reprogram the biodroid’ thing.
“Look, Annie,” I said, thankful that the elevator seemed slow as well as big, “do you know why you’re being reprogrammed? Because they wouldn’t tell me, and I know how you Kats operate. You seem perfectly fine to me.”
Annie started slightly at the sound of my voice, her sharp chin tilting up as her gaze focused on me. “I, well, sir, I thought it was obvious.” Her hands reflexively went up to her hair, trying to cover up the white patch. “Master Brenton ordered a lilac Ragdoll nurse, sir.”
I was struck speechless for a second, shaking my head. “But … your hair, fur, whatever, is lilac, and your info says you’re a Ragdoll. And what the hell does that have to do with reprogramming? Coloration is intrinsic to your synthetic DNA.”
“Oh, sir, you misunderstand.” Annie shook her head vigorously, still hiding the white patch as best she could. “Master Brenton wanted a purely lilac coloration. I have bicolor points and he … he returned me, sir. I am considered defective.” Her entire body started to shiver with repressed fear. “And so, I am going to be reprocessed.”
“Wait.” I raised my hands as if that would stop the elevator and time itself. We still had three floors until our destination, as dutifully reported by the control screen. “Hold on. Bicoloration of the fur is a standard deviation. It’s not a defect. And reprocessed?” I shook my head firmly. “That’s nothing at all like reprogramming …”
“Yes, sir,” she mewed glumly. “Reprocessing is the act of breaking down a biodroid to its base genetic material and—”
I cut her off with a raised hand as my other curled into a fist. Annie didn’t need to tell me what reprocessing was. I knew all too well what that meant from my own education, but the reprocessing of Wonder Kats was strictly prohibited. Well, that was the public line of Katsukami anyway, and that’s when it all made sense. The synthetic DNA and biological components of the Kats were startlingly expensive, after all. Brainwashing and memory modification of a live host even more so.
It was just made plain economic sense to break down the product you had, well, if you were a heartless bastard of a corporation.
To avoid the bad press, Katsukami hid the fact that they broke down any of these girls that were ‘defective,’ even if the only reason was some asshole didn’t like the color of her hair. Whatever you thought of a biodroid, they were living creatures. Man-made, sure, but this was, in essence, murder.
And that was the last straw. I could deal with corporate bullshit politics, I could take being ignored for all the hard work I put in, that was all little stuff. But this couldn’t be allowed, as stupid as that sounded in my head. What could one intern do to a megacorporation the size of Katsukami?
Well, I knew one thing I could do, even if I wasn’t sure quite yet how I’d pull it off.
“No, Annie,” I said, voice firm and resolute, “you’re not defective, and you aren’t going to be reprogrammed, reprocessed, or any of that.” I tore off my gloves and hood as the Kat’s eyes widened, staring at me in awe. I had a feeling that contamination was absolutely not what the danger around here was. “You just sit tight and don’t let anyone here touch you except for me.”
“But … sir … you …” She raised a hand, tail lashing as we moved within a floor of whatever the real heart of Reprogramming was. “I don’t want to be reprocessed, but you … you’re kind, and a human, and so it is my directive to ensure you don’t come to harm …”
“If I get hurt, it’ll be doing the right thing, and I’m authorizing that,” I called back as I pressed my palm to the elevator controls. I had no doubt the lift was on an automated program, but it should still have the usual emergency stop features. The floor display was replaced by a swipe of green light, scanning my handprint, and I shouted, “Elevator, emergency stop!”
A soothing yet detached voice echoed through the car. “As you are within safe deceleration distance of a floor designated as a non-emergency area, your request for a stop is being shifted to stop at the next floor, Mr. St. Clare. Thank you for your emergency report, and we at Katsukami Biodesigns hope for your continued safety in our employ.”
“Crap,” I muttered. “Thanks for nothing, safety computer.”
Annie shivered but, instead of freezing, found the courage to run over to my side, away from the open space of the car. “If you must do this, sir, then obviously I must continue to follow my directives. I’ll back your play, sir!” She flashed a surprisingly bouncy grin as she clasped my arm.
Her touch was like a shot of electricity through me, even as the elevator abruptly stopped. It made me feel good, having her there right next to me, as good as it did to feel like I was doing the right thing. I put an arm out to keep Annie against the wall as the double doors slid open, and my mind raced to come up with a brilliant plan that didn’t involve security escorting me out of the building and Annie to the horrible fate that awaited her.
The elevator wasn’t an option, especially after reporting an emergency. I had no idea what was actually down here in the bowels of the building, but logic would dictate that there would be another exit, some secret way for Katsukami to get materials in and out of this place they wanted to keep secret. We’d just have to get past …
“What’s this about an emergency, young St. Clare?” Rolf called out, his voice still muffled by his respirator. “You haven’t been talking to the product, have you?”
The very sound of him made Annie’s grip on my arm turn tighten, but it was from more than fear. I could feel the growl as much as hear it, and it made me wonder what all Rolf did to his prisoners before they were killed. Pretty much every one of those thoughts made me angrier.
“Yeah, Rolf,” I shot back as I took a quick glance out of the doors. It’s not like he would have a gun or anything. The worst he could do was spray me with pheromones that couldn’t affect me, right? “Sorry, I think I’ve gotten all the training about the Reprogramming department I would ever want …”
My voice trailed off as I got a good
look at what ‘Reprogramming’ was. While I had the briefest imaginings that I would see something straight out of a cheap slasher vid. What I did see was more troublesome, if only because my in-depth expertise in biotechnology told me exactly what I was looking at.
To the untrained eye, the big chamber beyond would look like your average, automated chemical plant. There were, as Rolf had insinuated, large chrome vats arranged along one wall, while an array of robotic arms were set on tracks in the ceiling, capable of moving gear around the room. From the markings on the vats, they weren’t any kind of conventional chemicals, they were for storing the biological material that was the building blocks of all synthetic lifeforms.
And where they got that material was from the two clear tubes on either side of my current (and very soon-to-be former) manager. Each tube was set on a steel step topped with grates and injection ports, while tubes snaked along the floor from the steps to the vats on the far wall and into the wall itself. Those were dissolution units, though I had never seen any that were human-sized before. They worked simply enough. Put organic material into the tube, set the control computer, and various proprietary chemicals are pumped into the tube, breaking down whatever is in the tube to its component compounds.
As for Rolf, he didn’t have a gun, no, but he had both of his wiry arms pointed at the door. One hand was clenched around his Control Wand, the other hand had a shiny back taser with a safety orange tip aimed right at my favorite skull.
“I told you not to talk to the product.”
3
Rolf pulled the trigger of the taser. No waiting for an explanation, no ‘stop or I’ll shoot,’ nadda, nothing, zippo.
Honestly, though, at that point, I hadn’t expected any, and that was the reason I managed to yank my head back behind the briefest bit of cover we had. Well, that and my hair-trigger reflexes, the one physical gift I had. Though I hadn’t let myself go, I was definitely on the ‘slight, scrawny, and sacrificial’ end of the physical spectrum. Trust me, when you’re having to crunch a century of genetic engineering advances to prep for finals while also having to slam out an English essay and an economics project, you don’t have time for crunches, sit-ups, or even sunlight. Video games, though, well, I still found time to enjoy Street Fighter IX and the latest Doom reboot.
Twitch reflexes, I had ‘em.
The twin darts of the taser slammed into the back of the elevator cab, electricity discharging into the steel for a split-second before they fell to the floor. Strangely, though I should have been scared out of my mind, I wasn’t. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was coursing through me, or that Annie was right there with me, or just my confidence that I was doing the right thing.
The clicking sounds of plastic on metal and Rolf’s struggling grunts were louder than my own quick breaths or Annie’s anxious mews. It didn’t take me long to realize that his weapon was one of those one-shot deals, with the whole plastic tip being the magazine. This was our shot, especially as the elevator’s screen suddenly came to life.
“Mr. St. Clare, I am pleased to report that security is responding to your emergency situation!” the robo-voice reported cheerily. “Estimated response time is one point four minutes. Please remain in the car as it is recalled to the nearest security station.”
The addition of a hard time limit spurred me to action. Taking Annie’s hand, I pulled the Kat out of the elevator. We barely made it out before the doors slammed shut. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say. Rolf’s Wand was tucked under one arm as he fought to reload the taser since his thick rubber gloves were screwing with his fine motor control. As he caught sight of us running towards him, he glanced up, his watery eyes going wide.
“Stop!” he cried out. “Stay back!” When I didn’t do so, running forward to bum rush Rolf before he could become armed again, he let out a final, squealing, “Please?” as he managed to snap the fresh tip into place.
Then I plowed into him, letting Annie’s hand go as I dove onto the smaller man. Maybe I wasn’t linebacker material, but I was a good twenty years younger than Rolf and a lot more motivated. The impact threw us against the dissolution chamber on the right, cracking the tube and tearing the seals on the steel step. Rolf let out a yelp of pain as we rolled off the tube, falling right onto the tubes feeding the device on the floor, as I managed to pin one arm against his side, trapping the Wand under his arm. While his taser arm was still free, I had a grip on his elbow, shoving his arm up over his head.
That was the least of my worries. No, I had tons of those now. There was the painful burn of a cut where a sharp end of the metal had sliced into my arm, for starters. Oh, and those crushed tubes were now spewing extremely hazardous chemicals and genetic material all over the floor, which we both happened to be on, and to top it all off, the elevator would no doubt be back in less than a minute with a load of beefy, shoot-first security guards. I could die here or, at best, get badly hurt and then thrown in prison … but I didn’t care.
Ignoring the sizzle of the mixing goop on my protective suit or the strange numbing going through my wound as that same goo covered it, I shoved down on Rolf’s arm, calling over my shoulder at Annie. He might have been scarecrow thin, but the desperation of the situation had given the asshole a surge of strength. His taser started to twist towards my head as my hands slipped on the slick rubber of his suit.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t something Annie could help me with. She didn’t have a mental deviation, so she simply couldn’t hurt a human being, even if that asshole wanted to render her into genetic goop.
“Sir! What should I do?” she cried, ears twitching and tail poofing in alarm as Rolf and I rolled through the muck, back up against the cracked tube.
“Run! There’s got to be a way out!” I cried over my shoulder. “Go!” Best that she got away safe, make this big, bold move on my part worth it.
So, color me surprised when, instead of running, she slipped her slim arms around my waist and heaved, her enhanced biodroid muscles pulling me up out of the goop … and Rolf too, who I still had a good hold on with one arm. But that hold only lasted for a moment, a combination of slick sludge and the sudden motion pulling my arms free. Rolf went one way as Annie pulled me the other, towards the back of the room.
“Sir, my directive is to preserve human life,” she said with utter determination, “and I’m not going to let the one person who cares for me die!”
“You’re right, Annie, and you’re not going to die either. Let’s go!” As Rolf fell flat on his back into the growing pool of biological sludge, I got my feet under me, and we ran towards the back doors of the lab, my brief doubt as to my own survival fading. I ignored the fact that my right sleeve was mostly gone, eroded away by the sludge Rolf and I had been struggling in and grinned.
The elevator beeped behind us as we passed the dissolution tubes. Behind us Rolf was still splashing and screaming in the muck. Time was not on our side, but it didn’t have to be. I shoved aside an examination table that would be at home in a coroner’s office, the purpose of which I didn’t even want to contemplate, and skidded to a halt next to the steel security doors. Without a pause or a look back, I slapped my bare hand on the lock screen next to the door.
“Come on, gimme a break here,” I prayed that the internal security wouldn’t have already locked me out as the green line scanned down my hand.
“Yes!” The lock screen blinked green and flashed a cheery ‘Door Unlocked’ in the company’s proprietary Wonder Sans font. It slid open just as the elevator door did the same behind us, so I risked a backward glance as I pushed Annie through the door.
The elevator disgorged four Katsukami security guards, broad-shouldered guys in fitted black jumpsuits, much nicer than the garish yellow Reprogramming uniforms, though much like them, they had the words ‘SECURITY’ printed along the arms in white block letters. Past their mean glowers, mirrored shades fitted with micro-cameras, and drawn tasers, they looked like they meant business. Especially s
ince their tasers weren’t the shrimpy civilian defense model Rolf had.
No, they had Katsukami Thunderbolts, police-grade weapons the company was currently shopping to the military as well. Instead of firing darts, these bleeding-edge ‘non-lethal’ bad boys fired full-on bolts of electrostatic energy. Guaranteed to put down a perp in one shot, even if he was juiced on White Ice, and a second? Well, let’s just say cardiac arrest was a thing.
“Jake St. Clare,” the lead one bellowed as all four drew a bead on me, “step away from the doorway and let us deal with the biodroid.”
Not a single one of them made a move to help Rolf, who was still flailing in the chemical mush, which had now spilled out over a good quarter of the floor. I couldn’t see much from where I was, but from his gurgles and cries, I could only imagine that the genetic solvents had broken through his suit. Guess there really wasn’t anything the security guys could do to help him at this point, anyway.
I couldn’t help but feel a spike of righteousness. Kind of fitting for the bastard to die in the same way he had killed so many Wonder Kats. The real wonder is why my right arm wasn’t suffering the same fate as Rolf from its dunking, but with everything else going on, I just chalked it up as a lucky break.
Holding my hands up warily, blood and the last bits of genetic ooze dripping off my hurt arm, I did not step away from the door. Wonder Kats, even domestic models, were, well, fast as a cheetah. Sparing Annie a few seconds would make all the difference. Besides, I had another worry.
“Look, guys, you really want to put those bad boys away,” I said in slow, careful tones. “We have a Class 4 chemical spill here, on top of a biological contamination threat.” When that didn’t seem to deter them, I added, “And maybe they don’t teach you this in Intimidating Guard School, but there are at least four warning labels on those vats about exposure to intense heat and electrical discharge.”