by Lisa Lace
Natasha knew he couldn’t hear her, but she spoke anyway. “I don’t know what to do with you now that Dad’s gone. I can’t keep you here for the rest of our lives.”
Fury’s eyelids flew open, revealing deep blue irises that stared at her with undisguised hatred. Natasha screamed and scrambled backward, falling over a chair and landing hard on the concrete. Quickly regaining her feet despite the pain in her elbows and ass, Natasha barreled up the stairs and slammed the door.
Chapter Six
Natasha closed the deadbolt on the basement door and slowly backed away, wondering if she should do anything. Her body sagged against the kitchen doorway as she listened for any unusual sounds. Natasha was sure she would soon hear the crash of the cyborg as he broke out of the holding cell and then the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Soldiers had broken out of Cyborg Sector before, where everything was more secure and better maintained than a residence. Why had her father thought it would be safe to keep one in the basement?
She waited a long time, but the house remained silent. Natasha only heard the faint ticking of the mantel clock in the living room and the gentle hum of the air conditioner. She inhaled through her nose and breathed out through her mouth, doing the same exercises her father had performed countless times to stop the panic attacks. She had never experienced her father’s anxiety problem before, but she had seen Neil do it so many times that the steps were second nature.
Finally convinced that Fury wasn’t going to chase her up the stairs and through the house, Natasha lowered herself into a kitchen chair to think. She dealt with cyborgs on a daily basis. They came into her office, took off their shirts for exams, and sometimes even shook her hand on the way out. The creatures who had once been human were still capable of exhibiting human traits. But that was only due to the software upgrade that allowed them to bypass their implanted chip and access their previous memories. Fury had probably not had the software update, but there was only one way to be sure.
When Natasha rose from the table, her cell phone beeped in her pocket. She checked the screen and rolled her eyes when she saw that it was a message from Nick.
So you like playing hard to get? That’s all right. I still want you.
Natasha let out a frustrated sigh.
Not interested. Thought you would have figured that out when I threw you out of my house.
Her head pounded with rage and her hands shook. Natasha didn’t want to deal with that douchebag anymore. Her phone chimed again only a few seconds later.
We can start slow. I’ll send you a picture of my dick. You know you’ve missed it.
Natasha knew she should ignore the message or even block his number, but she couldn’t stop herself from replying.
Can your camera take pictures of something so small? Keep it to yourself for once.
She peeled off her high heels and padded down the hallway to her bedroom. She had things to do, but she needed to get comfortable first. Another beep.
You never minded it before. BTW you were very sexy in that little black dress.
Natasha was getting angry.
I was at my father’s funeral, you asshole!
Dropping the phone onto the dresser, she yanked her dress over her head and tossed it to the bottom of her closet. Once she had it dry cleaned, it was going straight to the consignment shop. No matter how good it looked on her, she had no plans to wear it ever again.
Natasha caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror as she reached for a t-shirt and jeans. Despite how disgusting Nick sounded when he talked about her body, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Her figure was a little plump, but it benefitted from the extra bits of exercise she slipped in whenever she could. Her breasts were full but still perky, big enough that she couldn’t go without a bra but she didn’t need a pushup. Her waist tucked in nicely around her stomach before rounding out for her hips. Her ass looked great in a swimsuit, if she did say so herself. Maybe it didn’t matter that Nick had slept with a skinny slut from the bar. There would be someone else to appreciate what she offered.
Her phone demanded her attention once again.
No problem. He never liked me. Keep the dress on and leave your panties off. I can be there in five minutes.
Feeling disgusted, Natasha quickly put some clothes on before she responded. Even though he had no way of knowing what she was wearing, she was not about to text him back while she was naked.
Do it and I’ll call the police. Stay away from me.
Natasha turned her phone off before he had a chance to respond again. She would probably have an inbox full of texts when she checked her phone, but that was tomorrow’s problem.
Tugging on a pair of Converse sneakers, Natasha took a deep breath and headed back through the house, moving toward the basement door. There had been no indication that the cyborg had escaped his cell. Even if he was awake, he couldn’t hurt her from his box. Still, her stomach trembled as she released the lock and opened the door once again.
In her hurry, Natasha had left the lights on in the basement. From the top of the stairs, everything looked in order. Leaving the door open behind her in case she needed to make a quick escape, Natasha quietly descended the stairs. She kept her eyes on the makeshift laboratory, ready to turn and run should anything go awry.
Fury was still in the box. His eyes were open, staring off into the distance. Though it unnerved her, Natasha preferred a vacant gaze if it meant the cyborg was not watching her. She would not have entered the room otherwise.
Natasha needed to move uncomfortably close to the cyborg in order to get what she wanted. The nurse sidled over, never turning her back on the cyborg. Keeping her eyes on the box, Natasha groped behind her on the workbench. Her fingers encountered a pile of tiny screws and a soldering iron that fortunately had been turned off. Finally, she felt the plastic casing of her father’s laptop. She snatched it and bolted back up the stairs.
Chapter Seven
Natasha knew that the key to discovering the truth about the cyborg was in her father’s records. With any luck, his laptop had everything she needed. Natasha hadn’t seen any old-school paper notebooks lying around, and she knew that Cyborg Sector wanted digital records of everything. If the computer held no relevant information, she would have to find where her father kept his files.
She turned on the computer, simultaneously relieved and angry to discover it wasn’t password protected. If her father had taken the laptop anywhere with him and lost it, people could have learned his secret and reported him immediately. On the other hand, it meant that she had no problem gaining access to his documents.
It didn’t take long to find what she needed. A folder entitled Fury opened up to reveal numerous subfolders of test results, experiment procedures, diagrams, and electrical charts. The one that intrigued Natasha the most was labeled Log. Inside were files organized according to their date of entry, and her father appeared to have created them on a daily basis. Natasha randomly clicked on one.
April 15
I admit that I questioned myself when I undertook this project. There are legal implications, and I’m putting my life in danger. But I have successfully managed to smuggle the required equipment into my new laboratory, as well as the subject himself.
Fury was surprisingly compliant when I removed him from the cell at Cyborg Sector. He followed me out to the van without question. Despite his apparent agreeability, I put him back in sleep mode for the ride home. The traffic, sounds, and lights would have overwhelmed his senses. I believe I would have quickly lost the illusion of control.
I had to reactivate him to move him into the basement once we reached our destination. Fury is over two hundred pounds, and I had no hope of lifting him by myself. I noticed that he became extremely tense when he saw the inside of a residence. He has only lived in the clean interior of a laboratory before. My home is a strange and exotic environment. He activated his weapon when the telephone rang, but I managed to calm him down and brin
g him into the basement.
Fury relaxed when he saw the cell I prepared for him. I am hesitant to use the word relieved. It’s difficult to avoid assigning anthropomorphic values to a creature that used to be human but is now something else.
I’ve only made things more complicated by using his nickname. But Fury seems like a far better thing to call him than a string of letters and numbers, and the name is more appropriate than his designated handle.
Seeing her father’s written words made tears rush to Natasha’s eyes. The content was not particularly revealing or introspective, but it felt wonderful to have a connection with him again. Living without him would be a challenge.
Intrigued, Natasha opened another file.
April 23
I finally took Fury out of his cell today. It took some time to work up the courage to open the door. I haven’t forgotten his kill count or the damage he caused at Cyborg Sector. We received several warnings because of his actions. The cyborgs were supposed to make covert operations easier, not leave a trail behind them. Fury has come close to killing me before. I was advised by all of my colleagues to destroy him, but I don’t feel like I can give up. I’ve come too far to throw him away.
Fury did surprisingly well when I let him free in the laboratory. I gave him simple orders. He was able to peel a banana and hold a screwdriver. I know he can do far more, but I believe in taking baby steps first.
I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I should give him the upgrade. There is a possibility of a great reward. Once he has access to his memories, he may be more capable of processing and understanding his environment. On the other hand, there are more risks associated with this procedure than most of the public knows, or the scientific community is willing to admit. (See Report 65A.)
Natasha sat back in the chair. Cyborg Sector created a structured release program for cyborgs before putting them back into society. First, programmers gave them the infamous software upgrade which removed the blocks on their memories. The onslaught of historical information invariably caused confusion, so the next step was to put the cyborgs through rigorous therapy sessions within the walls of Cyborg Sector.
Once psychiatrists and therapists decided they had made sufficient progress, the cyborgs relocated to off-site rehabilitation facilities. Natasha worked at such a facility. Graduation from the program meant living on their own, with frequent follow-up sessions to monitor their progress. The soldiers came in waves. One group had its software updated, went through the first round of therapy, and left the building before the next group started the upgrade process.
Workers at the Cyborg Rehabilitation Center had to become certified. Despite many hours of training, Natasha had never heard about negative side effects from the upgrade. She knew that some cyborgs adjusted faster than others. Some were scared or angry, but the specialized therapists knew how to work with them. The majority of the cyborgs went through the release program quickly, heading out into the world in a couple of months.
But if Neil’s record was accurate, there was more to this story than she knew. She scrolled through the seemingly infinite files on the computer until she found a folder of reports. Neil Daniels did not write Report 65A. It was a confidential communiqué distributed around Cyborg Sector during the time the release program started. Neil would have lost his job much sooner if Cyborg Sector had known he copied it to his personal computer.
The report was a combination of the findings of several scientists. The one common thread was that their cyborgs malfunctioned after the software upgrade. The subjects went on tirades, killing and ravaging whatever got in their way. Only a few of the cyborgs were previously noted as being unusually aggressive. The scientists weren’t sure if there was a natural violence in the cyborgs that led to the destructive results or if the upgrade was introducing the new behavior. No one knew if the cyborgs were aware of their actions. They were exterminated immediately.
Natasha rubbed her eyes without paying attention to the makeup she had applied earlier in the day. She had to do something. Fury was dangerous. Her father had tried to ease the aggression out of Fury before loading the upgrade, hoping he could become part of society again. But Dr. Daniels was no longer there to fulfill his dream. The cyborg in the basement was not like the ones she saw at work every day. She needed to make a phone call and send him right back to Cyborg Sector.
As Natasha waited for her phone to activate, she thought about the implications of turning Fury over. The scientific community would denigrate her father’s name. Even though he was dead, he didn’t deserve to be treated poorly. And what would happen to her? Would anyone believe her if she said she had nothing to do with Fury’s abduction? She’d been living in her father’s house for weeks. If anyone thought she had assisted her father, she could lose her job or go to jail.
When the phone had booted up and was ready for action, Natasha noticed that she had twenty new messages. She deleted them without looking and set the phone down again. She couldn’t tell anyone about Fury. Her only way out would be continuing her father’s work.
Chapter Eight
Natasha knew plenty about cyborgs when it came to their physiology. She could help them learn to fine-tune their motor skills, understand what a cold or a bout of the flu was doing to their bodies, and recommend physical therapy for those who wanted to keep their bodies conditioned. But when they needed help beyond what she could give them, Natasha referred them to other departments at the Cyborg Rehabilitation Center. The CRC offered psychological support and assisted with employment. They even offered classes on shopping, cooking, housekeeping, yard maintenance, and other routine skills the former soldiers needed to survive.
When they had problems with their biochips, Natasha referred them to the Tech Department. The personnel there, many of whom were former Cyborg Sector employees, knew all about the tiny implants. They could help a cyborg learn how to switch between using his computer interface and normal vision, how to understand where the information came from, and how to fix degrading biochips.
Despite the propaganda Cyborg Sector spread about cyborg durability, it was becoming apparent that the chips were beginning to dissolve in the saline environment of the human body. The problems started with the first cyborgs and were spreading to later models.
Natasha didn’t know Fury’s creation date or anything about his biochip. But she knew someone who would. She scooped her phone off the table and dialed the CRC. It was a Saturday, but the Rehabilitation Center was open seven days a week. There had to be someplace for cyborgs to go when they malfunctioned, no matter what day it was.
“Hi, Brittney. It’s Natasha.”
“What are you doing calling here, girl? Aren’t you at your dad’s funeral today?” Natasha could hear the background noise of patients checking in and out.
“I’m finished now. Today has been exhausting, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.” Now that Natasha was on the phone, she felt foolish. Brittney was her friend, but there were some things she wouldn’t be able to share without sounding crazy. She hoped she wouldn’t have to overexplain herself.
“Of course. What do you need?”
Natasha bit her lip. “You know John down in Tech, right?”
The sound of a pen clicking against the desk came through the receiver. Brittney always did that when she was thinking. “I think so. Tall guy, brown hair, glasses, kind of adorable?”
The nurse gave a laugh. “Yeah, that’s the one. Do you know if he’s working today? I need to talk to him, but I don’t have his number.”
Brittney paused for a moment before she spoke again. “I could transfer you, but first I want to know why. You aren’t already looking for a rebound, are you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Natasha racked her brain for a good excuse. She couldn’t possibly tell Brittney about Fury, especially not over the phone. “I bought a new TV, and I need someone to come help me set it up with Internet and everything. I heard he does some contr
acting work on the side.”
There was another pause at the end of the line. “Are you okay? You aren’t talking to me in code, are you? Am I supposed to call 911?”
“No. Why?” Natasha was getting frustrated. She had thought the hardest part would be talking to John. Apparently it was difficult just getting hold of him.
“You sound pretty calm considering what you went through today,” the receptionist replied. “I wouldn’t think you gave two shits about a television right now.”
She could always count on Brittney to be honest. “It was my consolation prize.”
“Okay. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself, all right? Call me if you need anything. Oh, and the girls are planning to go out to the Mexican place on Tuesday. Half-price margaritas. Are you in?”
Natasha couldn’t remember the last time she had gone out with the girls from the office. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to, but married life had changed her. She had always felt like she needed to be at home with Nick after work, even if he was barely awake enough to do more than say hi to her.
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Good. Then I’ll transfer you to John right now. See you Tuesday!”
The line clicked, went silent for a moment, then clicked again. “Tech Department, this is John.”
“Hi John, it’s Natasha.” She knew it was unnecessary to identify herself by her department or give her last name. Anyone who had thought about making her the main character in a book was going to recognize her voice.
“Oh, hey. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay, all things considered. Look, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. I bought a new television, and I need some help getting it set up and integrated with my other devices. Do you think that’s something you can give me a hand with?” The impromptu excuse she had given to Brittney sounded like a good ploy to rope in John as well.