by H D Forth
I shook my head. It was almost 30 minutes until I had to go to work. I walked into my bedroom, taking off my clothes. I found the body that I had grown familiar with underneath the clothes. Lean and muscled, modeled by Valeria Valencia to look like a predator in human form. It definitely fits her motives.
I took off every garment and carefully checked it over. I was looking for tears, holes, stains and general mismanagement.
These clothes had been reserves stored at headquarters, other than being a little wrinkled they were fine. I had many ways of alleviating heat, none of them involved sweating as of yet. I also didn't need to regularly shed my skin anymore, which went a long way to keep my clothes clean.
Once I had checked the garment over,. I carefully folded it and packed it into a small box under the bed. These were the clothes of my old career, one that failed before it even really started.
Once they were safely out of the way, I checked over my own body. I blemish free, there was nothing to mar the smooth-skinned surface of my body, except the scar on my left forearm. With a dismissive thought, I smoothed that out too.
I was mostly ready to go to work, I just need to dress. I put on a pair of chinos and a button-up shirt. I had some work to make up for. I had missed several days of work.
As I was leaving the apartment, still with plenty of time to go, I turned on the phone. I immediately was inundated with messages.
The latest ones were from Erik Tarriss and Emmet Mireaux. I was surprised, they rarely contacted me over text messages. I checked the call register. Erik Tarriss had indeed called multiple times. No wonder he had resorted to texting me.
There was only one from Emmet Mireaux:
“Hey.
I heard that you’ve been missing phone calls and not showing up for work. Everything okay?
Call me.”
I returned and checked the ones from Erik. They were all varying degrees of the same. How are you, are you okay? Why haven't you shown up form work? Do you need someone to talk to?
I sighed and returned to check the next one. It was from Valeria Valencia.
“I understand that things are hard right now. Please take all the time you need to recover.”
I started at it for a long time. Some emotion was welling up in me. I stopped before they gained momentum.
The last one was from Kani Mas-. I didn't get to read the message, the name caused a malfunction in my hand, and the screen cracked, as my hand made its best attempt at folding it in half.
Red hot fury welled up in me, as I dropped the phone, with a swing of my arm, on to the pavement hard enough to shatter it completely. Broken pieces of electronics and glass had torn gouges in my skin, but they were only that. Skin deep.
I had to get to work.
Erik wasn't waiting outside work for once. It wasn't because I was late either. I waved an idle hand at my colleagues as I entered the office. They all greeted me similarly. Somehow their frail human senses were able to detect that I didn't want to communicate.
I sat down at my desk, staring out into the air, waiting for the clock to hit 8, and for my shift to start.
At exactly eight O’Clock. I turned on the first message. I idly stroked one hand with the other, while I listened to the AIs drone on. I ran a hand through my hair a few times as I listened.
Once their ‘talk' was finished, I swiftly typed in all the relevant information. Then I moved on to the next one. I idly shook one leg as I listened, tapping my finger against my desk, shifting the keyboard back and forth, trying to find the optimal position for writing. Then they finished, and I send in another report.
I adjusted my desk lamp, making sure that I had optimal coverage of my desk. Shook the table lightly to make sure that it was stable, shook the base of the monitor to make sure that it hadn't gone loose.
This conversation seemed to drone on and on. I completely picked apart a pen, until it was completely disassembled, before assembling it again, from beginning to end. Then I broke it and threw it away. It was one of those shitty, cheap ones anyway.
I made some idle noises with my mouth. Not long now, I could sense it. The two AIs were closing in on the end of their lengthy exchanges. They finished, 30 seconds later I had it boiled down to the basics and started another recording.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
I woke up. Booted up to the world.
I was still sitting on the couch, where I had went when I’d gotten home.
I’d sat down on the couch, and kept sitting there. I had been feeling little at all, or anger. I was faintly surprised when I checked the clock and realized it had been two days, since I had sat down.
I looked around the apartment. It had never been this clean before. Not when he’d moved in, not when both he and Emmet had a cleaning frenzy.
It was spotless, exquisite and dull.
I watched my empty, dull and very clean apartment. I could sense the microquake engines working the floors in the other rooms. I couldn't sense the dust that they lifted from the floor or objects, but I could sense the vents that gently blew a breeze through the apartment, picking up the dust motes and pulling them out of the apartment.
Something had brought me out, something had changed.
I checked my phone. It was still off, so was the AI. Everything was. Then I finally did a quick check of myself. I was at full power, the Power Core had finally returned to full efficiency after the sudden and unprepared transfer to his current body.
I shook my head. It was almost 30 minutes until I had to go to work. I walked into my bedroom, taking off my clothes. I found the body that I had grown familiar with underneath the clothes. Lean and muscled, modeled by Valeria Valencia to look like a predator in human form. It definitely fit her motives.
I took off every garment and carefully checked it over. I was looking for tears, holes, stains and general mismanagement. These clothes had been reserves stored at headquarters, other than being a little wrinkled they were fine. I had many ways of alleviating heat, none of them involved sweating as of yet. I also didn't need to regularly shed my skin anymore, which went a long way to keeping my clothes clean.
Once I had checked the garment over,. I carefully folded it and packed it into a small box under the bed. These were the clothes of my old career, one that failed before it even really started.
Once they were safely out of the way, I checked over my own body. I blemish free, there was nothing to mar the smooth skinned surface of my body, except the scar on my left forearm. With a dismissive thought I smoothed that out too.
I was mostly ready to go to work, I just need to dress. I put on a pair of chinos and a button up shirt. I had some work to make up for. I had missed several days of work.
As I was leaving the apartment, still with plenty of time to go, I turned on the phone. I immediately was inundated with messages.
The latest ones were from Erik Tarriss and Emmet Mireaux. I was surprised, they rarely contacted me over text messages. I checked the call register. Erik Tarriss had indeed called multiple times. No wonder he had resorted to texting me.
There was only one from Emmet Mireaux:
“Hey.
I heard that you’ve been missing phone calls and not showing up for work. Everything okay?
Call me.”
I returned and checked the ones from Erik. They were all varying degrees of the same. How are you, are you okay? Why haven't you shown up form work? Do you need someone to talk to?
I sighed, and returned to check the next one. IT was from Valeria Valencia.
“I understand that things are hard right now. Please take all the time you need to recover.”
I started at it for a long time. Some emotion were welling up in me. I stopped before they started gaining momentum.
The last one was from Kani Mas-. I didn't get to read the message, the name caused a malfunction in my hand and the screen cracked, as my hand did its best attempt at folding it in half.
Red hot fury welled up in me,
as I dropped the phone, with swing of my arm, on to the pavement hard enough to shatter it completely. Broken pieces of electronics and glass had torn gouges in my skin, but they were only that. Skin deep.
I had to get to work.
Erik wasn't waiting outside work for once. It wasn't because I was late either. I waved an idle hand at my colleagues as I entered the office. They all greeted me similarly. Somehow their frail human senses were able to detect that I didn't want to communicate.
I sat down at my desk, starting out into the air, waiting for the clock to hit 8, and for my shift to start.
At exactly eight O’Clock. I turned on the first message. I idly stroked one hand with the other, while I listened to the AIs drone on. I ran a hand through my hair a few times as I listened.
Once their ‘talk’ was finished, I swiftly typed in all the relevant information. Then I moved on to the next one. I idly shook one leg as I listened, tapping my finger against my desk, shifting the keyboard back and forth, trying to find the optimal position for writing. Then they finished and I send in another report.
I adjusted my desk lamp, making sure that I had optimal coverage of my desk. Shook the desk lightly to make sure that it was stable, shook the base of the monitor to make sure that it hadn't gone loose.
This conversation seemed to drone on and on. I completely picked apart a pen, until it was completely disassembled, before assembling it again, from beginning to end. Then I broke it, and threw it away. It was one of those shitty, cheap ones anyway.
I made some idle noises with my mouth. Not long now, I could sense it. The two AIs were closing in on the end of their long exchanges. They finished, 30 seconds later I had it boiled down to the basics and started another recording.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One
I was leaving work, that same day when I passed by Erik. He was on the phone with someone, though it wasn't his children. He was murmuring and looking around, stopping for a moment when he saw me.
I reached out picking the number he had called. It was Emmett Mireaux’s.
I guess I should expect guests today, then. I walked home. Once I'd tuned the AI back on again and ordered a new phone, my old one had needed replacement, and I had just gotten paid anyway
Then I went into the bathroom. Taking off my shirt. I might not be sweating or shedding skin in any significant amount, there are still large amounts of dirt that can accumulate on your person, when at work and walking to and from said office.
I wasn't waterproof. That meant I couldn't take a shower. I had to wash with a cloth from the sink. Otherwise, it was liable to kill me.
I turned to stare at my shower, it was a simple thing, small and compact. There was only a little more space than necessary to turn around in, but it had done its job for seven years running.
Maybe it could do so again…
Someone rang the doorbell.
I pulled my shirt back, pausing to notice a mark just above my right shoulder. I paused briefly to examine it. It was a torn and jagged line that ran in rough points around my shoulder.
An image of Leric tearing his arm off filled his mind as he saw the scar that was slowly and surely growing on his arm.
I pulled the shirt on and stepped out of the bathroom. I ran my senses outward, out of the door. It was Emmett on the other side, as expected. I waved idly at the AI, ordering it to let him in with my powers.
I walked a quick perimeter of the apartment, patrolling for anything that needed cleaning. There was nothing, everything was as pristine as he had left it.
“Van?” Emmett called. He sounded worried. I stepped out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me. For a moment, I thought Leric had entered my apartment, but no. Emmet was too small, while he did workout, he looked nothing like Leric’s massive frame.
He looked over at me, eyes widening as he caught sight of the room behind me before I closed the door. “Did you clean?” He asked.
"Not much else to do," I replied.
Emmet turned to stare at me as I sat down on the couch, reclining myself until I was comfortably supported. I could tell he was expecting something from me, but I continued to sit there.
He frowned. His eyes flickered the TV remote, sitting just within reach. Ahh, he'd expected me to start watching television. It was once one of my preferred ways of wasting time, but I couldn't afford to spend time anymore, there was so much to do. So many people that nee-
I swallowed and mechanically reached for the remote.
“Can we talk?” I listened to Emmett’s words considering them for a moment.
“It’s why you’re here is it not? You think I’m in trouble and you want to, you need to help me .”
"to Its not like that." Emmett began. I knew, however, that it was exactly like that. "Erik called me. He told me he was worried about you, you didn't seem okay. He had been trying to talk to you all day, but you hadn't been responding, not even when it had been lunch time.
I got up from the couch, it suddenly felt uncomfortable to sit on the sofa, while Emmett was looming about around me.
Emmett was taller, younger and more successful than I am. On this continent, his darker skin held just enough exotic value to make him alluring to the women, and now he was looming over me. But we were much closer in height now than we’d ever been as kids.
I could see Emmet frown at me. He swallowed looking slightly nervous, I could already tell what was coming. When he grabbed for me, I slapped his hand out of the air.
"Do not try to touch me, Emmett. You won't like how it feels." I told him coldly, knowing his general aversion to touch.
Emmett paled visibly. “What happened to you?” He asked. He sounded worried, his voice filled with pity.
My hands all without my permission balled into fists. "Bad things happen," I told Emmet.
“Is this about your girlfriend?” He asked.
Val? No, but maybe he's talking about… But he couldn't know about her. I tried to bring up my Foundation, but there was nothing there anymore, it had withered entirely away at some point.
"It's not about her," I replied, my voice a dead monotone.
“What happened, why isn't she here? You obviously need someone to talk to.” Emmett said, instead.
"It's not about her," I spoke through gritted teeth, anger bubbling up in me, and started pacing the room.
“What happened? Did she leave you?”
I lashed. I didn't even realize that I'd done it, until after I'd finished moving. I had been pacing back and forth between the door to Emmett's old room and mine when he spoke.
I was so angry, I had to lash out, I had to hit something. I clipped the door frame splintering the wood, causing the top of the frame to fall off and land next to me.
“W- w- what happened?” Emmett asked, stumbling over the word, before gathering himself. I could hear the fear in his voice, but also the empathy.
“She’s just like all of them. They look, they search, and they leave. I’d done well for myself, I’d gotten into a nice school, I had the grades. I did everything!” I screamed at him and punched the wall. I felt a dull pain in my hand as the drywall cracked and broke around the hole I’d made.
I was heaving for breath, my eyes fuzzing as my connection with the Nerve Module flickered as power dropped. In two punches I had drained the Power Core down to 80% power. The drain was so enormous that it had to reroute power from other functions, such as the Nerve Module and cameras.
Emmet looked pale and afraid as he stared at the hole I’d left behind.
“She’s just like them. They look, and they search, then they judge, and they leave me.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “They always leave.”
I heard Emmet’s feet slowly approach. Before he could get too close, I made a decision. Not anymore. They would not control me. I could choose my own path. Make it my own.
I got to my feet, I hadn't even noticed when I dropped to my knees. "Not anymore Emmet," I told him quietly. "I won't let them control me an
ymore."
Anger, rage and fury boiled in me. Together they burned away all uncertainty, all fear, all joy, and happiness. No one would control me anymore. Especially not pathetic weaklings like her
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two
I was leaving work, that same day when I passed by Erik. He was on the phone with someone, though it wasn’t his children. He was talking quietly and looking around, stopping for a moment when he saw me.
I reached out picking the number he had called. It was Emmet Mireaux’s.