Wiped

Journey

When I woke up, I saw Cuss-Bert sitting opposite to me in an armchair. I was lying in bed.

- What happened? - my voice felt groggy, as if I had a hangover.

- I had to dose you. The Halo is broken.

- And Jack?

- His vitals are good, but he's not responding to me.

- Why did you let me sleep? How much time do we have left?

- You still want to do it? Why? You almost killed yourself. The third time in a row. Cryo, this is not worth it.

- They will try to destroy me one way or another. At least I will go out on my terms.

- No you are not. Whatever this is, the Halo couldn't pick it up. This is between you and him.

- What about the reading?

- Nothing. Surges from his side as well, but no origin. It seems you both have a trigger for each other. When the Halo fried I tried the old tech. He lets me in no problem, but there is no response. Positive, negative, nada.

- Cuss-Bert, no offence but you are an implanter, not an enhancer. Even if you had the best tech you wouldn't pull it off.

- Alright, fine. But he went into a coma, and I cannot wake him.

- How many days did we loose?

- Four.

- God.

- Yeah. And the tickets arrived. If we want to go, now is the time.

- Then why are we still here?

- I was hoping you'd give up.

- Dude, he triggered my wiped memory. I'm in it halfway and I can't get out. I'm surrounded. Cornered. There is no way I can just drop it.

- What happened when you were in there?

- I was in my old body. Intact. I felt fear. No, terror more like. And I felt small, tiny, the way I feel whenever I talk to a Handler. As if I was a child, never heard or listened to.

- You are afraid of the Handlers? - she scoffed in disbelief. On this particular day Cuss-Bert was a woman.

- You aren't?

- Well, I don't like them, but they don't scare me like this.

She looked at me as I got out of the bed.

- You could be so beautiful – she remarked. - All these men who pass you by, like they do with a cyborg would be at your feet if you wanted.

- Really? - I turned to face her. - Is that all you want to say? Not hurry, we need to go?

- I made everything ready. I wanted to believe you can let go, but I think I knew you enough to prepare otherwise.

- Cuss-Bert, I... - but she cut me off.

- You are fine. Packed even. Just get ready and we can leave. I had everything delivered already to the station.

Scarom is not a big island. Sure, the forests in the Rurals are vast, but with the jet-trains there are really no significant distances anymore. If the tracks are clear, in a few hours one can get from one end of the counry to the other.

There is a direct line between the cities G and Z, the travel taking up around four hours, if there's no delay.

When I booked I only managed to get our tickets to the last train, but that came in handy now. Still, on the way there we ran into a small riot at the edge of the Prism.

A group of Handlers tried to disband a few locals, who protested against the mistreatment of the people of the Rurals. As we passed the fighters, one of the Handlers looked up, straight into my eyes. It was that scary face again, all teeth, smiling, growling at me, disfigured, unreachable.

I recoiled from the window, but I couldn't speak. All the transfer vehicles were watched, it was not safe to talk in them. As I looked at my hands for a moment they seemed like human hands, covered with skin, ready to feel, ready to touch. My fear grew. I was not connected to Jack now, yet I'm hallucinating? When I looked again, they were the same old metallic hands I got used to. The old ones, lost in time, as burned stumps hid underneath the shiny chrome.

Cuss-Bert was right, all our packages, Jack included waited for us in holding at the station. Without any questions or remarks the liners hauled them up and delivered everything to our cabin. The system was efficient, automatic.

The liners weren't human. Nobody wanted to do their job. Why would they? It was an easy task to program a bunch of robots to carry out orders. The information was there, with a system like this, there were no mistakes. All the designers really had to do was to slap human faces to their creations, and noone had a word agaist it. A few years prior even I was mistaken for one, although I never looked like them, ever.

Still, this time I felt a sense of jaded hatred emanating from them. All their emotionless movements were coloured. Hints of sadness, shaded them blue, and envy covered them in a slight yellowish glaze.

When I asked Cuss-Bert if she sees them like that she shrugged, and said they all looked white to her.

It was only me, who saw things hidden underneath. Or maybe I was starting to go mad. Then it hit me. When I was using, the raindrops had this effect on me.

In the beginning, when it worked, the pain went away, and the colours remained. Sometimes I could see them in places noone else did. Sometimes I had ideas, implants, enhancements, all sorts, different, magical. They came to me. But then one day, as if a wall was built overnight the flow dried up. I started getting rid of the real me, trading myself in for artificial parts, that did not feel the pain.

In the Black Iris I was dosed with raindrops. Then few days later I got a sprayful in my face again. Could I be facing another crash if I'm not careful? Or was it different this time? I didn't feel numb, but the return of colours suggested that I will be eventually. And I wanted none of it.

The train slowly started moving and a strange restlessness took over me. I felt separated, as if my body, this beautiful, shiny, perfect creation was foreign to me. The first time I felt my implants, each and every one of them not as a system, but as parts, loosely connected, as if done by a sloppy implanter surgeon. And I knew that wasn't true.

I felt my breathing getting shallow but at the same time I knew my lungs were expanding the way they should, the air I breath in and out is perfectly sufficient to keep me alive. And all I could think of was, that I was about to suffocate.

As a last ditch effort I grabbed at Cuss-Bert's hand, voicelessly articulating 'Help me!' before I passed out again.