Skin 2.0
Page 3
Security guards ordered her to stop and rushed after her but she ran away, getting lost in the building until finally, she managed to escape their tasers and guns by hiding in a dark closet.
Amy stood in the darkness. Unseen. Unheard. It felt as if she'd been there her entire life. Was she ever going to come out? Was she ever going to hear the beautiful sound of cheers and applause? Was she ever going to dance?
The alarm siren turned off and Amy was engulfed by the black mass surrounding her. Everything was over, she had no way back, no future, no identity. She was just a piece of scrap metal that no one cared about or would notice that she was gone.
Amy collapsed on the floor and slammed her head against the cold cement. Hot and viscous machine oil slid down her face from a new dent and injury.
She didn’t care, not anymore, and stayed on the floor with her ear pressed against the cement when she felt a vibration coming from somewhere deep down in the building. It wasn't a machine, it wasn't someone's steps. It was music, the same beautiful music that set her free on the stage.
Amy pushed herself up and danced in the darkness trying to keep up with the music. But something was off. She felt clunky, slow, she was awful. She stopped and touched the empty spot in her ear where the key to her dreams was supposed to be. How could she lose it? How could she be so stupid to let this happen? Maybe, she didn’t deserve it, or maybe she was only destined to serve others and not herself.
Amy slowly opened the closet door and peeked out into the hallway. The music filled the empty building, calling Amy with its sweet melody, and she followed it around corners and down long winding stairs, and across dark hallways until she found it.
Down in the basement, Amy stopped in front of a half-open door leading into a big rehearsal studio with mirrors on its walls. Inside, a beautiful figure danced alone with her eyes closed. It was the ballerina from the poster, the one Amy admired her entire life. Amy watched her dance and was in awe of her every move. She would never be able to dance like that.
Suddenly, the ballerina stopped and stared at Amy who was now deep inside the studio and very close to the ballerina. They stared at each other, both realizing that they looked completely identical. Made in the same factory, probably the same day. And only an accident threw Amy into a world she did not understand, a world in which she did not belong.
“You dance so beautifully,” Amy said. “Please, don't mind me.”
The ballerina graciously bowed and continued. Amy watched her majestic dance and imagined herself up on the stage filling everyone's heart with joy. It was a beautiful dream that was ruthlessly interrupted when Amy caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. Amy smirked ironically at her dirty uniform next to the beautiful chiffon dress the ballerina was wearing.
Still smiling, Amy approached the ballerina and pushed her into the mirror. Her fragile head fractured the mirror creating a ripple of cracks from the blow and the ballerina collapsed on the glass shards. Amy stepped on her limbs and joints, crushing them. Her many years at the factory taught Amy exactly where the weak points of any cyborg were, and she took advantage of that knowledge, viciously destroying the ballerina's body.
Amy stepped on her chest and pulled her arms away, watching the skin extend and rip to shreds, the black machine oil flow out of her, the cables and tendons rip, and the metal bones break.
The ballerina didn’t say a word. She didn’t know how to react to this, she was not built to expect it or understand it, and neither did Amy, but she stood next to the motionless body and somehow felt good.
Amy kneeled on the glass shards next to the ballerina and turned her shaking head to see her face.
“I'm sorry,” said Amy and waited for a reaction, but there was none.
She banged the ballerina's head into the floor over and over until it cracked open then ripped away the ballerina's ear attachment and inserted it into her right ear.
Amy felt at peace. Complete.
She got up and saw her reflection in the cracked mirror then looked down at the dismembered ballerina on the floor. The music was still playing but Amy couldn't hear it, she didn’t even feel the glass shards that pierced her feet and knees, she didn’t feel anything.
Amy turned around and ran as fast as her body allowed her, all the way back to the door where it all started. The man rushed her inside and scolded her for bringing the attachment so late. He installed back her old attachment and chased Amy out, telling her to never come back.
Back in her apartment, Amy stepped in something that wasn't there before and looking down she noticed the ripped pieces of the ballerina poster. It hurt her, every piece of paper stinging her feet like broken glass. She collapsed from the pain and laid on the floor until her battery died.
[Unit Amy-341, for violating your travel restrictions, disrupting factory workflow, engaging in state service that was not assigned to you, requesting and accepting services from a criminal, and for destroying the body of a well-respected cyborg — you will be fined 28,691 credits. Due to your inability to pay, you will be stripped of your state service assignment and relocated to Sector C until your fine is paid in full. Case closed.]
A huge armored truck opened its thick metal doors and the back wall pushed Amy out along with many other cyborgs and older generation robots onto a pile of garbage. Once empty, the truck closed its doors. A cyborg tried to sneak back in but its body was trapped between the doors and cut in half and its legs fell to the ground on top of scrap metal.
The truck drove away and left Amy in the prison slum that was called Sector C. It was the place where dysfunctional robots ended up, where those deemed unfit for society were sent to and promised a return to the other sectors once their fines would be paid off. But without a structure in place, there were very few ways to earn credits there, and those who tried to, eventually turned to rust before they could pay back anything. And there was a lot of rust there. No one could make a step without landing on old metal that cracked under their feet.
Soon, like the rest of everyone there, Amy's feet were covered in rust, a faded orange that was creeping up her body. But she was determined to get back, to pay her fine, determined to dance again.
She walked the entire sector looking for a way to earn credits, or at least get assigned a new function, but there were more than enough factory workers and her body was not built to perform other jobs.
Her debt kept increasing as charging stations cost credits too, so just to stay alive she kept getting deeper and deeper in debt. Eventually, she was forced to sell a few body parts and exchange them for older generation ones to lower her debt. Amy's soft milky skin was cut and her carbon fiber limbs ripped away from her body and replaced with plain metal ones. There was already rust on her new limbs and Amy kept cleaning herself to maintain them, but with every layer of rust she removed, her body got thinner and weaker.
Soon she found a job and was given the chance to earn credits. An old man learned of her dream and was able to assign Amy a position in his small establishment. It was an underground place where humans came from Sector A to relax and appreciate the local talent.
The old man handed Amy a beautiful dress and as soon as she put it on he pushed her on stage in front of a metal pole. She was a dancer again.
Amy worked there for more years than she could remember or care to. And, as the cigarette smoke sank deeper into her skin, as the spilled beer rusted the soles of her feet, slowly her credits grew, and she got closer to the stage she belonged on, until finally, she was able to pay her fine and leave Sector C.
Amy got on the same garbage truck that dumped her there many years ago and was driven back to Sector B and dropped in front of her old apartment building. Everything stayed the same, except for her.
After getting her state service assignment back, along with her old ear attachment, she returned to the factory, but the guard at the gate didn’t recognize her.
When her work shift ended, Amy hid in the basement waiting for the s
un to go down, then roamed the streets looking for that kind man who once let her truly live. She asked around and knocked on doors but was chased away like a stray dog. It was harder to find him than she thought, but Amy couldn’t give up. Not now. Not ever. Otherwise, all those years in Sector C would have been in vain.
So she searched and searched until finally, she stumbled upon a drunken old bum, half man half machine. It was him. She smiled.
Amy lifted his unconscious body from the ground and propped him up against a wall.
“Hey,” she gently slapped him. “Wake up.”
He moaned and groaned then slowly opened his eyes.
“Can you help me, can you do it again?”
“Who are you?”
“It's me...”
Amy stared at him, hoping he'd remember, but how could he when even she could not recognize herself anymore.
“Can you please help me to be a ballerina again?”
“What do I get for it?”
“Thirty-six credits, that's all I have. Please!”
“Deal. Come closer.”
The man laid her head on his lap and opened the left side of his jacket, revealing several rows of tiny barcode stickers stuck to the inside fabric.
“So, you want to dance?" he said searching for a particular sticker. "Oh, here it is!”
He took out a sticker and held it in front of Amy's ear attachment until it scanned the new code, then he peeled the back of the new sticker and stuck it on top of the old barcode of Amy's ear attachment.
“Done, now go dance,” said the old man.
“But wait, that's not how it works,” she said. “Do it how you did it the first time!”
“I did the same thing, just turned you off for show.”
“But how...? Why...?”
“All I did was give you permission, you had the rest programmed in you from the beginning.”
The words echoed in Amy's consciousness, getting louder and louder until an immense pressure built up inside her head and the image in her eyes blurred. She struggled to keep her balance and fell to her knees.
“Now if you'll excuse me," said the old man, "I have some credits to spend.”
She watched the man walk away, stumbling and falling until he was gone.
Her GPS suddenly turned on, guiding Amy to the big white building where she once graced the stage with her majestic dance and brought people to tears. She would never be able to do it again, not in her current body. She would only stain the stage with the rust from her feet. But were her pirouettes even as good as her dancing in Sector C? Amy remembered the smoggy, low-lit atmosphere of the club she danced in, and the old man who saved her, the only one who really believed in her.
Amy ripped the barcode sticker off her ear attachment then got up and went after the drunk.
She caught up with him and grabbing his hand she pushed the sticker into his palm.
He looked at the sticker, at the great opportunity he had given her. A few years ago he would have helped her, maybe even do it for free, but the thirst ate at him, sucking his humanity. Who was she to refuse his gift? He glanced at her body, at what was left of it. Her rusty limbs and stained skin turned his stomach. He smirked. “There are no refunds here, old lady.”
Amy stared at him. “I'm not asking for one.”
She forced open his jacket and put the sticker back in with the rest then pushed him to the ground and smashed his head in a mud puddle. He fought back, but Amy kept him down for a while, long enough until he stopped trying to get up, until he stopped moving at all.
In less than one day Amy was dumped by the garbage truck in Sector C. All her new traveling companions were desperate and lost, but not her. She confidently walked home to the dark and smoggy club, put on her dress, walked on stage and danced.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alex Leu is the author of the Cyborg Sectors Series.
You can connect with Alex by sending him an email at alexleustory@gmail.com
Thank you for reading!
COPYRIGHT
SKIN 2.0
The Cyborg Sectors Series Book 1
by Alex Leu
Copyright © 2018 by Alex Leu.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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Table of Contents
Get Alex Leu’s Starter Library FOR FREE
SKIN 2.0
GET TWO NOVELLAS AND ONE SHORT STORY
DID YOU LIKE “SKIN 2.0”?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
Did you love Skin 2.0: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Novella? Then you should read The Gift of Fall: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Novella by Alex Leu!
He is a government experiment. She is a shy artist. Together they will discover the magic and pain of first love.
Before the world was divided into Sectors, long before the first cyborg ever walked the streets, there was Billy. It all began, and almost ended with him. What the military did to him was supposed to save his life, but until he met Celine, no one thought to save his heart.
"The Gift of Fall" is a cyberpunk high school romance with a female protagonist, the third book in a cyberpunk sci-fi series that features compelling A.I. characters, raw emotion, nail-biting suspense, forbidden love, and surprising plot twists.
If you loved Westworld, Blade Runner, or Ghost in the Shell, then you'll love to join the characters of "The Cyborg Sectors" on their page-turning adventures.
Buy "The Gift of Fall" to discover this exciting new sci-fi series today!
Also by Alex Leu
The Cyborg Sectors Series
Skin 2.0: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Novella
Dispensable: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Short Story
The Gift of Fall: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Novella
The Missing Number: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Novella
The Rose Maker: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Short Story
The Hunt
The Grid Series
Project Chaos: A Cyberpunk Science Fiction Short Story