OCTOBOB
“We’re pinned down, sir. No way out. Jennings lost both legs.”
“Our path is blocked too. We’re taking a detour.”
“Give ‘em hell, Major. Oorah.”
“You too, Vittorino. Oorah.”
...
..
.
Upgrade Complete
I woke in the ready room, as I always did. I ran my typical systems diagnostic and stretched out — the human parts needed to work well too. The diagnostic came back positive and I went into a full warm-up routine.
After a few minutes, I slowed down and checked my recent upgrade. It had taken nearly every credit I had, but I was now fifty percent stronger in each of my mechanized limbs with a powered exoskeleton that would allow the human components to withstand added loads. The exoskeleton would provide a boost in core strength and stability and a balance of power in my left arm to the power in the right.
With this upgrade I should be able to confidently lift a small bus — were there such a thing on the moon. There was nothing in the ready room to test the added power on, unless I felt inclined to punch holes in the wall, which I didn’t. I didn’t have the credit to pay for it.
I signaled ready and waited. When it was time, I walked through the hatch onto a flat black surface. There were no landscape features this time, only solid black floor, walls, and ceiling. There was no place to hide.
I walked towards the middle of the floor and paused when I heard the other door open to my left. I turned to look. It was OctoBob.
The Triboboculus had been modified so that the typical three arms and three legs had been replaced by nine serpentine limbs. The stalks where the oculi typically bobbed were sheathed in armor and were protected behind a transparent dome attached to the armor above the tri-misphere brain below. A Triboboculus would typically be omnidirectional and able to process information quickly and accurately and execute with great acumen. They made very good baristas.
This Triboboculus was currently undefeated. The combination of deft processing skills, omnidirectionality, and the overwhelming limbs had been too much for all opponents thus far. The one limiting factor that I had seen was that OctoBob was not extremely mobile. However, it looked like OctoBob had watched my last match and had planned for me, since he was now sitting atop a levitation sled. I realized that sooner or later OctoBob would catch me. It was inevitable.
OctoBob’s sled slid out of the hatch, but the Triboboculus turned as soon as it exited. It skirted the outside edge of the dome, circling around me in the center of the arena dome as it did so. I waited and watched while OctoBob took its lap. One eye was constantly locked on me while the other two took turns looking towards me and then back to the surroundings. OctoBob neared the hatch it came through and I crouched down in readiness.
In a moment, it shifted direction and sped up toward me. It felt very strange to see that the body did not turn — only the direction changed. I was witnessing omnidirectionality in action. Nevertheless, as soon as the direction changed, I shifted my own weight and applied some boost ninety degrees from OctoBob.
Scanners on, I tracked OctoBob’s progress as his line shifted to an arc across from, next to, then behind me. I measured its progress, applied a little bit of upward boost right before the wall, and flipped so that my feet hit first. I launched backwards, reaching down on my way over the top of the cyborg Bob-o. There! I caught one of the tentacles with my mechanized hand and pulled it along as momentum carried me over the top of OctoBob. My momentum flipped it upside down.
I didn’t have much time. I rushed in, grabbed the sled with one hand, and braced against one of the tentacles with the other, pulling with all of my enhanced strength.
The sled peeled off rather noisily — and disgustingly. There were substances leaking that made me want to throw up my last meal. The Tribob was shrieking, stinking brown-green fluids were leaking, and somehow I held a detached tentacle in my left hand.
I didn’t mean to, but I must have pulled off the tentacle the same time I pulled the sled off. At least OctoBob really did have eight limbs now, so the name would be more appropriate, if only for a short time. The Triboboculus teetered back and forth sounding like a walrus trying to eat an ambulance, limbs flailing everywhere.
I took an unsure step backwards, but then a tentacle reached out and grabbed my ankle. Just then, the tentacle in my left hand came to life on its own and wrapped itself around my hands. Another tentacle snaked in to lift up my bound wrists and before I knew it I was suspended in the air by my wrists and ankles.
OctoBob turned itself over, continuing to make an unholy ruckus. I was upended and knocked around in the process, struggling to break free the entire time.
I activated the decoy devices in my left leg and released two of them. I didn’t have the ability to key the disintegration mode at the moment and the decoys bounced off OctoBob. I didn’t know if that would be enough of a distraction, but I hoped so. I pulled my arms and legs toward each other in a pike position. I just needed to grab the tentacle wrapped around my leg with my fingers and yank.
The tentacle unraveled and I landed on the floor, wrists still bound but legs free for the moment. Bracing my legs, I pulled down quickly and then around in a sweeping motion. OctoBob was thrown off balance again and every limb scrambled for purchase, two of them finding my waist in the process. That was not what I was going for.
I was pulled closer in and one more tentacle found purchase on my chest. The tentacles began to tighten and I knew my time was almost up. I think I may have blacked out for a moment.
“Sir, they’re coming up the corridor in front and behind. We’re surrounded on every side.”
“Find that door, sergeant, and get us inside.”
“Sir?”
“Sometimes you have to make your own way.”
I was awake and knew what I had to do. I waited for it. There was one more tentacle that was wrapping itself around my legs at the knees. As soon as it was secure, I activated my booster at full power. I hoped it would be enough. The power would not last more than another thirty to forty seconds, depending on OctoBob’s weight. Maybe I didn’t need that long. The pair of us rose up in the air with me wiggling back and forth the whole time. I hoped to retain control over my systems just long enough. The pressure that OctoBob was putting on me was registering all sorts of internal system alarms.
We were five feet above the floor when I arched backwards. I kicked my legs up and we accelerated towards the floor. I ducked my head in towards OctoBob right before impact. CRACK! The dome covering the eyestalks hit the floor and came loose from its mounting. The tentacles loosened suddenly and I ripped my hands loose, reached for the dome, and tore it completely off. It only took one power assisted strike above the brain case to put OctoBob out for the count. The match was over.
I felt a fleeting sense of relief before I passed out again.
THREE PIECES OF HUMANITY
Five men run around the corner with the enemy in pursuit not far behind. Taylor and Li are covering the retreat. Mechanized horrors are emerging from every possible avenue of escape.
Is escape even possible?
Jorgenson and Gascon radio in. They found a dead end and are coming back.
“The scan shows that he has three broken ribs,” the human voice said from the next room.
“Must compete, doctor. He.” This voice had an odd clicking gait to it. “Has decided. Been.”
“If we could just—”
“Not leave. He. Will repair.”
Slam.
Vasquez finds the door. It is slightly ajar, but difficult to open with human strength. It takes three men to push the door open. Jorgenson and Gascon run up just as they finally gain entrance. With the sounds of pursuit behind them, every man enters the room. The door is released and closes automatically. Two men are assigned to melt the edges of the door into the door frame while the rest fan out, looking for what they need.
“He
’s stable now. What did you do?”
“Enhanced ribs. His. . . Accelerate regeneration. Cells. . . Consuming calories. Many. Quickly recover.”
“He'll recover faster here than in an Earth facility?”
“Yes. Excuse, please me.”
“Does he know?”
“What?”
“Who he is? Why he’s here? The attack?”
“No. Unaware. Blank. Competes. He... cannot know.”
“We have to go down.”
“There’s no way down that we can find, sir.”
“That’s why we brought Little Sister. Get her going.”
The robot is assembled and placed on the floor. Immediately, it begins moving around, going in and out as if looking for something. Abruptly, it stops and rotates in a circle. Three appendages pop out, extending out from the main body in three different directions, and then it sets itself down on the floor.
While loud noises are coming from the other side of the door, the robot begins to swivel in place. It accelerates and rises off the ground. A hole three feet wide begins to form below it. In a few moments, it stops turning, pulls the appendages in, and lowers itself into the hole.
Gascon and Jorgenson look into the hole and back up, questioning.
“Go. We’ll be right behind you.”
…
I woke up in the infirmary. It was disconcerting at first, because I could not remember why I was there. I discovered the reason as soon as I sat up. I could still feel OctoBob’s squeeze on my right side.
“Take it easy, buckaroo.” The voice came from a speaker by the bed. “I’ll be right there,” it said again.
I paused and remained sitting on the edge of the bed. In a moment, the door opened and a man in his mid-forties walked in, salt and pepper hair and a little rough on the chin. He introduced himself as Doctor Stanislav, a representative of the United Nations attachment here on Tycho Base.
He came up to me and pulled out a light and shone it into my remaining good eye, checked something on a panel next to the bed and indicated that I could get up.
“You’re a lucky one, JR-8,” Doctor Stanislav said, “I’ll give you that. You’re all checked out. The Commission upgraded three of your ribs while you were out the last three days, so that’s the good news. The bad news is that they took away three more pieces of your humanity to do it.”
I felt the area on my side that was tender. Yes, something was different. Three more pieces of humanity, gone. When do we stop calling me a human?
“Thanks, doctor. I've still got my heart and my brain, so if I can just keep my courage I'll be all right. I’m assuming… I did win, right?”
The doctor brightened at that. “You sure did. Casual viewers tuned in fast during the match and replays are viral now. Betting was frenzied until the moment you ended it. You should be able to afford some nice upgrades now.”
I nodded, thoughtful. “Thank you. Am I free to go?”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “Before you go... You would probably find this out anyway, but you’re being moved to bracket C.”
I paused a moment. It was sooner than I expected to move up to that bracket. There should have been at least three more matches before I would qualify.
“That is surprising. Do you know why, doctor?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Just know that you have attracted the attention of some interested parties.”
Not at liberty? Not for the first time, I wondered what was going on. Who was I before I became this machine-man thing? Why was I here? How did this happen, and why could I not remember anything?
I squinted at the doctor. “You know more about me, don’t you?” I asked. He seemed familiar somehow, but I knew I hadn’t seen him since first being activated on Tycho Base.
“Not enough to count, soldier,” the doctor said with a slight nod of his head. “You just keep winning and everything will clear up along the way.”
I realized the doctor would not, and likely could not, give me any answers. We both knew we were being watched. Trying to force the answers only led to negative consequences. I learned that months ago. There were things installed in me that would turn me off, or worse. There was a bomb in my head I knew about. I suspected another bomb, but I wasn’t sure.
I thanked the doctor and left. Graaarg joined me as I walked out the door. I asked him how he’d been since I last saw him.
You know his answer.
We went to my apartment, taking the most direct route. On the way there, I was recognized several times. Some stopped me to congratulate me on my recent match, some gave some sort of gesture or salute from across a room, while many others pointedly ignored me. I did see a couple of human-based cyborgs a ways off. I knew from experience that Graaarg would not let me talk to them. They all had their own chaperone. Most ignored me purposefully, but one of them gave a wink and a salute before she turned back to her companion. Graaarg tapped his head when I looked at him. The message was clear. Stay away. So I did.
There is no more helpless feeling than being turned off. I hated it. My entire existence was controlled. I had to wonder why the humans seemed to be singled out for the special attentions of the Rock Bear chaperones. No other race had that kind of treatment. And why were there so many humans in comparison to the rest? OctoBob was the only Triboboculus in the whole tournament. There had to be close to twenty of us. By the time I reached the apartment, I was grumpy and I knew it. I closed the door behind me, leaving Graaarg outside.
“Wanda,” I said as I came in the door. “Play music, Frank Sinatra.” I closed the door and went to sit down on the reinforced chair in the living room. I sat back and closed my eyes and just listened. I’d come across Sinatra a few weeks back. Something about his music made me feel as if I was capable of anything. It was actually quite soothing in its own empowering way.
Wanda let three songs go by before she interrupted. “Please excuse me. You have three waiting messages. Would you like to review them or would you like to continue to wait?”
I considered for a moment. Something was tickling the back of my mind — a dream or an echo of a memory. “Wait. Instead, I’d like to research Tycho Base.”
“How may assist in your research?” A map of the city-sized facility popped up on the holographic display. It was quite extensive, both above and below the surface. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 300,000 beings were at Tycho. The tournament and related facilities spread across a quarter of the whole base.
“Has there ever been a human military presence on Tycho Base?”
“No official human military units have been stationed on or have had any action on Tycho Base.”
“Unofficial?” I asked.
“No unofficial military units have been stationed on Tycho Base,” Wanda replied.
“Has there been some military action on Tycho Base?”
“Information along your line of questioning is restricted, JR-8. You have three messages waiting for review.”
I felt frustrated. No answer, again. Anytime I felt like I got close to something, I was shut out.
“Begin messages,” I said.
The first message, as expected, was a notification that I was moving brackets.
The second message was a listing of two potential opponents: A five-foot-tall spider with mechanized limbs or a creature made up of a shared intelligence colony of symbiotic living organisms — all enhanced.
The third message was a listing of options available for upgrade. It looked as if the choices were much more narrow in this new bracket.
I stood up to go make a sandwich and turned on the TV in the process. The TV was restricted, too. It was specifically restricted to human shows from the time period before the Ravagers came to Earth. I found it too disturbing to view shows with actual humans, unenhanced. As a result, I often found myself surfing through cartoons if I wanted to get my mind off my own situation. I landed on a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles show and continued to make my meal. I’d just sat down
to eat when Wanda interrupted again.
“JR-8,” the apartment intelligence said, “you have a new message, marked urgent. I am displaying it now.”
Next match in three hours, 15:30 Tycho Base time. Arena seven. All upgrades must be complete by 15:15.
Three hours? I usually had three to four days to prepare. Then I realized I had been on the table in the infirmary for those three days. “Gah!” I blurted loudly. I felt like I’d just finished with OctoBob and now this.
I went back to the upgrade screen to view the options. Heat shielding, five hours to complete. Improvement in boosting power and/or length of use, six hours to complete. Pop-out claw attachment, four hours to complete. Artificial intelligence assist, two hours to complete.
It looked like the choice was already made. I didn’t know what to think of having an A.I. inside my head, but as I scanned the specs I verified that the A.I. would only be there in an assistive capacity. It would help with targeting, strategy, and computations, but would be restricted from limb control. Best yet, I could complete it in the apartment.
“Wanda, are you ready for some action?”
I thought I saw the hint of a smile on the holographic display. “I sure am, JR-8. Please enter your recharge pod and wait for further instructions.”
WANDA
“Where are we, sir?”
“The server room.” Three rather harmless looking beings that remotely resembled gophers are tied up on the floor. The sister had already moved off into the mass of machinery and disappeared.
“She stays. We need to get out of this room.”
Jorgenson radioed in. “We have an exit, sir. The coast is clear.”
“E-P is now in play. Jorgy, scout ahead. Gascon, on our six.”
…
..
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Upgrade Complete
“Hello, JR-8. This is Wanda. Ready to help.”
I looked at the time. 14:43. I had to be in the ready room in thirty-two minutes. I left and hurried down to arena seven, Graaarg trailing behind.
The Cyborg Chronicles (The Future Chronicles) Page 8