His Cybernetic Secretary

9. Chrysanthemum

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION: COMPLETE.

NEURAL INTERFACE: ACTIVE.

MOTOR FUNCTIONS: ACTIVE.

VISUAL PROCESSING: ACTIVE.

AUDITORY PROCESSING: ACTIVE.

COGNITIVE PROCESSING:—

Chrys opened her eyes.

—OPTIMAL.

The ceiling appeared.

White.

Three meters and seventeen centimeters above her.

Fluorescent lighting.

Six fixtures.

One flickering at a frequency of approximately 59.8 hertz.

The air smelled faintly of disinfectant. She could identify the chemical composition but she didn't remember ever learning how.

Her eyes moved.

The room didn't blur.

There was no adjustment period.

Every object snapped into perfect clarity.

FIELD OF VIEW: 119°.

LIGHT LEVEL: 743 LUX.

TEMPERATURE: 21.4°C.

HUMIDITY: 38%.

She stared at the ceiling.

What...

The thought barely formed before an answer appeared.

ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

I didn't ask you to do that.

There was no response.

Only another stream of information.

HEART RATE: 104 BPM.

RESPIRATION: ELEVATED.

CORTISOL: ELEVATED.

STRESS RESPONSE: ACTIVE.

She swallowed.

I'm scared.

SYS: EMOTIONAL STATE: FEAR.

Chrys frowned.

I know.

SYS: ACKNOWLEDGED.

That almost made her laugh.

Almost.

Instead, she lay there, staring at the ceiling while thousands of tiny pieces of information moved through her mind.

She could hear the ventilation system. Not just hear it. Analyze it. The motor was rotating at an uneven rate, one bearing was beginning to wear. She estimated it would fail in—

SYS: 14,281 HOURS.

She blinked.

Why do I know that?

SYS: PREDICTIVE ANALYSIS.

Stop.

The thoughts continued.

SYSTEM MANAGER:

WALL MATERIAL: POLYMER COMPOSITE.

DOOR LOCK: ELECTROMAGNETIC.

DISTANCE TO EXIT: 8.6 METERS.

ESTIMATED TIME TO EXIT: 2.1 SECONDS.

Her stomach twisted into knots.

I don't want to know that.

For the first time, the processing slowed. Not stopped, just slowed enough for her to breathe. Then she noticed her hand. Turquoise light glowed beneath her skin. She lifted it, the plates embedded along her wrist illuminated in a soft pulse.

CYBERNETIC SURFACE INTERFACE: ACTIVE.

Her breath caught and she rotated her wrist.

The plates moved with her. Not over her skin, with it. She touched one. Warm, Smooth, Real. Or at least real enough. Her fingers trembled.

SYS: MOTOR INSTABILITY DETECTED.

I'm shaking.

SYS: AFFIRMATIVE.

I'm scared.

SYS: AFFIRMATIVE.

She stared at the turquoise glow.

I'm alive.

There was a pause. Not a real pause, she understood now that her brain didn't actually need one, but something about the processing felt different. Quieter, Almost gentle.

LIFE SIGNS: STABLE.

Chrys smiled a tiny, involuntary smile. Then the memories came flooding back in an overwhelming and pixelated mess.

Two weeks.

Surgery.

Alumicorp.

The contract.

Her siblings.

Her smile disappeared.

SYS:

MEMORY ACCESS: RESTORED.

CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS: ACTIVE.

She closed her eyes.

No.

SYS: ALUMICORP NEURAL SYSTEMS REMAIN PROPERTY OF ALUMICORP.

I know.

SYS: UNAUTHORIZED MANUAL OVERRIDE MAY TRIGGER SECURITY RESPONSE.

I know.

SYS: SYSTEM COMPROMISE MAY RESULT IN CONTRACT TERMINATION.

Her chest tightened.

And if the contract is terminated...

SYS: FINANCIAL COMPENSATION: VOID.

She didn't need the system to finish the thought. Her siblings would get nothing.

The money was supposed to be theirs if she died. The money was supposed to be theirs if she survived- It had been the one thing that made the surgeries worth the risk.

She opened her eyes.

The turquoise plates were still glowing, and Chrys found herself finding them beautiful, yet terrifying. She could feel something beneath them. Not wires exactly, not circuitry... Something more integrated. Something that had become part of her. She flexed her fingers.

SYS: MUSCULAR RESPONSE: 0.004 SECONDS.

She stopped. That's impossible.

SYS CORRECTION: RESPONSE TIME IS WITHIN CURRENT PARAMETERS.

Current parameters. She looked at her hand then slowly made a fist. She could feel the strength in it. Not just muscle, but utmost precision and control. She reached for the edge of the bed.

SYS: GRIP FORCE: 18 NEWTONS.

She increased the pressure.

SYS: 42 NEWTONS.

The metal frame groaned and she immediately released her grip on it, staring at the tiny indentation her fingers had left.

SYS: STRUCTURAL DEFORMATION DETECTED.

Her mouth fell open. I did that.

SYS: AFFIRMATIVE.

A nervous laugh escaped her, and t hen another. Soon she was smiling despite herself. "Okay," she whispered. Her voice sounded different to her ears. Not mechanically, just much clearer. Chrys looked toward the door, where a tiny movement occurred on the other side.

Footsteps. Three people, one was walking faster than the others.

SYS: AUDITORY IDENTIFICATION: THREE INDIVIDUALS.

She hadn't consciously heard them, her system had. The door opened and a short nurse stepped inside.

"You're awake."

She looked at the nurse, her new brain immediately began analyzing her.

Age estimate, heart rate, posture, facial expression, stress level, the list went on. Probability that she was about to tell her to lie down.

SYS: 97.4%.

She frowned.

You really need to stop doing that.

SYS: REQUEST LOGGED.

I wasn't asking you.

SYS: REQUEST LOGGED.

She laughed again.

The nurse stared at her like she had already become something unfamiliar. Maybe she had.

She looked down at the turquoise plates glowing beneath her skin. She should have been horrified. Part of her was.

The nurse stopped beside the bed and studied the readings.

“Heart rate stable. Blood oxygen normal. Neural activity is considerably higher than baseline, but that’s expected.” She swiped through several screens. “No rejection indicators. Your implant integration is holding at ninety-eight-point-seven percent.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s excellent.”

Something in Chrys loosened. Excellent. The word seemed to travel through her in a strange way. Not merely heard, but registered. Her systems tagged it as positive. Her emotional centers responded before she could decide how she felt about it.

The nurse noticed her expression.

“You’re going to be getting a lot of information over the next few days. Don’t feel like you have to understand all of it immediately.”

“I have questions.”

“I imagine you do.”

The nurse pulled a chair closer.

“First, there are a few things we need to make clear regarding your status.” Chrys waited.

“You are the intellectual property of AlumiCorp.”

The words landed with surprising weight.

“Intellectual property?”

“Yes.”

Chrys stared at her. The nurse continued in the same calm tone, as though explaining hospital discharge procedures. “Your reconstruction, augmentation, neural architecture, and associated proprietary systems were developed and funded by AlumiCorp. Under the terms of your creation and activation agreement, ownership of the resulting asset remains with the company.”

Asset.

Chrys's internal systems supplied the definition before she could stop them.

SYS: ASSET: a resource of economic value owned or controlled by an entity.

She didn't like that word, but she didn't know what word she would have preferred.

“What happens to me?”

“You'll be placed into a work placement program.” Chrys blinked.

“A job?”

“Essentially.”

The nurse smiled faintly. “Your capabilities have considerable commercial value. The placement program allows AlumiCorp to utilize those capabilities while providing you with the compensation specified in your agreement.”

Chrys looked down at her hands. They looked familiar, but the nodes on each finger print felt strange as they pulsed, lighting up against things she touched.

The nurse nodded and quietly let herself out.

That hadn't felt like a decision, it had simply happened. Chrys slowly flexed her fingers.

“Okay,” she whispered.

A faint series of indicators appeared at the edge of her vision.

SYSTEM MANAGER:

MOTOR CONTROL: NOMINAL.


TACTILE FEEDBACK: NOMINAL.


AUGMENTED STRENGTH: ACTIVE.

She swallowed. “Please, don’t do that.”

The indicators disappeared. Chrys exhaled.

Then, cautiously, she began getting dressed.