by Lisa Lace
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 bring 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 8
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 contracting 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.
“Sure. I’m free tomorrow, or even tonight if that’s better for you.”
Natasha didn’t feel like she needed to sound desperate. Besides, she wanted a little more time by herself to search her father’s laptop. “Tomorrow will be perfect.”
As she ended the call, Natasha suddenly wondered what John thought about the situation. Did he feel that this was an excuse to get him into her bedroom? Natasha knew he liked her. She didn’t want him to think she was using him.
Natasha shrugged; everything would work itself out. If he thought she wanted more than help with a TV, he was right. She turned back to the laptop and started looking through a new file.
CHAPTER 9
It was hard to sleep knowing there was a deadly weapon in the basement. Natasha tossed and turned on her pillow. Her dreams were not soothing. She saw herself going back to Nick, telling him she had forgiven him and was ready to try to make it work again. She moved all of her clothing and books back into the home they shared as a married couple. Then he had Sharla in his bed once again. Even though she hated him for it, Natasha knew there was nothing she could do. She had already pulled herself out of the situation once, but she didn’t have the courage to do it again.
Waking in a panic, Natasha studied her bedroom in the dim light and assured herself that she was still in her father’s house, far away from her filthy cocksucker of a husband. She settled back into sleep and a new dream. This time, she wore a thin layer of black silky material that made her core light up as it moved across her skin. There was a man with her in bed, but it wasn’t Nick. He was tall and dark, with brilliant eyes that cut through her like a knife. The stranger ran his strong hands over her body, relishing in her curves as his lips tickled her neck.
Natasha could feel his cock between his legs, pushing into her hip. She wanted to turn to him and feel every inch of him, but it was more fun to play with him. His muscles were hard and firm under her hands, and she wanted everything to last.
As the man moved his weight on top of her, the dream ended, and she was alone once again. Frustrated and wide awake now, she pulled her vibrator from the top drawer of her nightstand and finished herself off, imagining that her sexy dream man was with her. In her fantasy, he found Natasha irresistible and whispered naughty things to her as he made her come. After she brought herself to a tense peak, arching her back and moaning softly, she realized the man was Fury. It was truly a fantasy - something like that could never happen.
The sun was beginning to stream in through her curtains. Natasha hoisted herself out of bed and opened the closet doors. “I need to get some new clothes,” she muttered as she browsed through an assortment of t-shirts, club clothes, and scrub tops. Natasha didn’t want to dress too cute and give John the wrong idea, but she didn’t want to be a complete slob, either. She decided on a fitted tee with a Red Sox logo and khaki capris.
The doorbell rang in a couple of hours. John stood on her doorstep with a small bag of tools in his hands and a smile on his face. He didn’t know how to dress either. At the office, John was usually in a button-down shirt and khakis, or scrubs if he had to do surgery that involved a computer chip. Today, he wore a dark blue polo, jeans, and Timberlands. He looked nice, but not too dressy.
“Hi, John. Come on in. I appreciate you stopping by.” Natasha opened the door wide to admit him.
He smiled and stepped into the house. “It was no problem. I don’t usually have a lot to do on Sundays. How are you doing after the funeral?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” It was sweet of him to ask. Everyone Natasha knew at the CRC had contributed to a large bouquet of flowers. It sat with the baskets of flowers from the funeral home in the living room. She didn’t have a place to put them yet.
“Good. So where’s your new TV? I’m glad you didn’t ask the people at the store to do it. They’re competent, but they charge way too much.” John glanced around the living room, raising an eyebrow when he saw the flat-screen television already set up over the fireplace.
Shutting the door, Natasha prepared herself to be ridiculed or exposed. “To tell you the truth, I need your help with a different project. I didn’t want to tell you about it over the phone and risk you avoiding me.”
John’s brows furrowed. “Okay...”
“It’s not a television. It’s hard to explain. It might be best if I showed you.” The nurse turned and threaded her way through the house toward the basement door. “It’s down here. Promise me that you won’t tell anybody about it, okay? It’s not the kind of thing I want everyone to know about.”
Interest quickly replaced his concern. “No problem.”
Natasha’s limbs felt numb as she led John down the stairs. There was no telling what would happen down there once John saw the cyborg, but she needed help. When they reached the landing, she turned to him. “Are you ready?” At his nod, she turned on the lights.
Having already seen what was in the basement, Natasha was free to pay complete attention to John as he absorbed the picture. At first, his eyes scanned the cluttered workbench and looked at the labels of various s
torage boxes. It wasn’t until he took a few steps into the room that he noticed the cyborg in the corner.
“Holy shit!” he cried. “What have you done, Natasha?”
“It wasn’t me.” Natasha fought the panic rising in her stomach. She kept herself between John and the stairs in case he tried to run off without hearing her side of the story. “He’s my father’s project. I didn’t even know about him until a few weeks ago. I don’t know what to do with him. I’ve been reading through my father’s logs, and I think he might just need the upgrade. I was hoping you could do it for me.”
John looked at Natasha, then to the cyborg, then back again. He ran his hand through his hair and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I don’t know. This is a big deal, Natasha. Do you know what the law says about this kind of thing?”
Natasha frowned. Perhaps John wasn’t going to be as much help as she had imagined. “I’m vaguely familiar with the laws. But they’re not going to help me now. Fury’s already here. If I report him, he’ll be terminated. You and I both know from working with the cyborgs every day that they don’t deserve that.” She heard herself start to plead, ready to promise him anything if he could take care of it for her. “I don’t want to go to jail, and I don’t want him to die. I think if we can get him on the right track, everything will be okay.”
The tech leaned against the workbench now, fidgeting nervously and looking like he was going to pass out. He took in a deep breath and blew it out through his lips. “I suppose I can try, at least. Tell me what you know.”
A rush of relief flew through Natasha’s body. “Only as much as I could gather from the files on Dad’s computer. I haven’t tried to get him out of his cell or run any tests. The reports show that hasn’t gone well before.”
“You can’t even get him out?” John exploded. “Just what kind of monster do you have here, Dr. Frankenstein?”
