“You have a beautiful home, Dr. Winters. Thank you for choosing me to share it,” Peyton said politely. He continued his study of the nearly silent female as they walked through her hallway.
Kyra nodded as she soundlessly crossed the terra-cotta tiled floor in her black non-conducting microfiber sandals. She listened to her new cyborg’s footfalls as he followed close behind. “You’re welcome, Peyton 313. I’m glad you’re here. Let me show you to your quarters.”
“Quarters?” Being away from her would not suit his plans. Peyton lowered his voice to the bedroom huskiness he knew made most women instantly wet with need. “A Cyber Husband resides in his wife’s quarters, Dr. Winters. I am programmed to meet your every need. May I call you Kyra now?” It was all he could do to hide his surprised reaction to her loud, disbelieving laughter.
“Wow. That’s a very charming bedside manner you have developed there, Peyton 313. Sorry to have to decline, but I do not require your services in bed tonight.”
Since her back was still turned to her new cyborg, Kyra rolled her eyes at their idiotic conversation. At six feet four inches, her new Cyber Husband was handsome and well-built enough to tempt any woman. So sure, her mind briefly fantasized about taking him up on his offer—just once maybe—even though she couldn’t ethically do that given her other plans for him. A decorated Marine hero like Captain Peyton Elliott deserved a hell of lot more than to live his life as a multimillion dollar gigolo—no matter how nice his shoulders were or how many muscles he sported. Or how sexy his voice was when he was trying to talk her into bed.
She stopped in front of her lab door and cleared her throat before speaking. “Voice authorization: Mankind Redefined Code X Delta 13 Omega Definition.”
After the door slid open, she pressed a button on the access panel forcing it to go into manual initialization.
“After entry of Dr. Kyra Winters, and cybernetic unit Peyton 313, delete all recent access authorizations and commence random cycling of entry codes. Offer prompts for new codes only on the following panel authorization—Third Time Is Charmed—with password phrase—Jackson Is A Cyber Dickwad.”
A series of lights flashed in multiple sequences. When the initialization for her orders had been completed, she stepped across the threshold and motioned her cyborg companion to follow.
Going to stand at the specially designed operating chair, she paused and looked back to see Peyton 313 hovering in the doorway. His human sense of danger was apparently still active. Kyra allowed herself a moment of genuine happiness that all the rumors about the man’s cybernetic rebellions were true.
Maybe the human part of Peyton Elliott really was still alive inside the cybernetic machine he mostly was at the moment. She certainly hoped so. She couldn’t afford to buy another Cyber Husband, especially not a pricey one like Peyton. Buying the infamous Marine Captain had wiped out the last of her ill-gotten inheritance from Jackson. She needed her work retirement money to fund other things.
“Come in and sit in the chair,” Kyra ordered, pushing away her distaste for deceiving him. “I’m your wife, Peyton 313. I paid for you and you have to do what I ask. Check your programming.”
“I am not programmed for sadistic or masochistic games. I do not require aides to give you an orgasm, Dr. Winters. My sexual training is sufficient to meet all your pleasure needs,” Peyton declared.
Kyra barely repressed her elation at having her theory proved so quickly. Peyton’s hesitation obviously annoyed him on some yet inaccessible level. The glare he sent her way told her volumes about his emotional state over what she was asking. Kyra knew that on some level he also had to be feeling some genuine fear. His tone of voice had carried concern as he had offered logical reasons why he needed to disobey her request.
Kyra studied him closer, fascinated by the Marine captain’s struggle against his urge to protest more. Yet she could also see the torment chip beginning its work. In the end, Peyton wouldn’t be able to do anything other than what she asked him to do without suffering a fires-of-hell kind of pain torturing his body. The torment chip took it cues from the syntactical interpretation of her orders to him. The very act of hearing his assigned program wife speak forced him to obey the woman’s every command. As much as she regretted being the woman who caused his suffering today, it was an edge she would use until she had Peyton 313 in her operating chair.
Guessing the rebellious cyborg would continue tolerate the pain until he felt safer, Kyra walked back to the doorway and held out her hand, hoping to establish some form of a trust bond. It wasn’t like she could reveal what she planned to do to him, but she did have the best of intentions. She was pleased when Peyton 313 immediately responded to the gesture. His hand gripping hers was gentle and warm, even though he had the capacity to easily crush her fingers. Fortunately, Kyra knew that using too much force with her was something his current programming would never allow.
“Come with me, Peyton 313. I’m not going to take sexual advantage of you—not tonight and not ever. I did not purchase you for that reason. I just want to study you and learn as much as I can. At least come inside the lab. I can’t speak freely while the door is open.”
Kyra winced as Peyton studied her, no doubt registering the mild sheen of perspiration her pores exuded in her nervousness. She tried to control her reaction to his presence, but the man was so attractive that he would have made her nervous if he’d not been a cyborg. When he finally stepped across the lab’s threshold, the door slid quietly closed behind him.
Kyra sighed in relief and squeezed his fingers tightly before letting go. She could feel Peyton’s gaze on the back of her as she walked to stand beside the chair again.
“Forgive me, Captain Elliot, for taking these measures. If I am successful, this is the last time you will ever have to do what I, or any other human, orders you to do.”
Facing the inevitable, Kyra swallowed hard and cleared her throat as danger signals suddenly sent adrenaline to every cell in Peyton’s body. Some invisible command must activated inside him prompting him to take whatever measures were necessary to halt her speech. His intense gaze meeting hers with a fixed purpose had her fighting not to call out in alarm. Peyton started across the floor at a rapid clip toward her, but in the three seconds it took to reach her side, it was already too late.
“Activate program Mankind Redefined on Creator 2 of 2 Authorization Code 002970463. Machine ID is 98765320A7. Subject is a Cyber Soldier. Rank is Captain Marine—Name is Peyton Elliott—cybernetically redefined as Peyton 313. Commence Maximum Reboot. Transfer full control of all controller files to Dr. Kyra Winters. Delete all previous authorizations. Destroy primary processor and both Level 1 torment chips. Leave life support running at full and all secondary chips unharmed. New processor will be installed upon unit shutdown.”
Kyra watched current fly through Peyton’s chest and head as his cybernetic eyes flared with the processor’s death. His upper body bent forward from the pain. The man groaned, but didn’t call out. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat as he struggled against what was happening. Peyton Elliot’s current agony was wrong on so many levels that she almost couldn’t handle acknowledging her part in creating it. She immediately shut down her emotional reaction and did so with an efficiency not even the constant code programming could imitate. Her motivation was great and it wouldn’t help either of them if she ended up a weeping mess at his feet.
“Please get into the chair, Captain Elliot. Do it now before you pass out. My purpose for doing this is to help give you back your life—your real life. I swear you can trust me not to hurt you any more than is necessary.”
Unable to fight the excruciating torture of the complete reboot she had activated, Peyton automatically obeyed and stumbled to the chair. Kyra put her arms around him trying to help him to sit. She couldn’t prevent a tortured groan escaping her throat or stop her shock when she actually heard it followed by an audible sob. Was she actually on the verge of full out crying? She hugged the
man in her arms hard as she eased him down to sit.
“Captain Elliott, I read your service record over a hundred times while I waited for you to be put back into the bidding system. I know how many people you saved during your military service. All those people in the dessert villages... and the children... you saved so many children. You deserve a hell of lot more than to be a fuck toy for the highest bidder. I’m trying to help you escape what they’ve done to you. I swear I really am.”
His gaze seemed barely focused enough to see her, but the cybernetic orbs he’d received in place of his eyes flared in surprise at the tears in hers.
Or maybe that was just her wishful thinking.
The muscles in his chest tensed and another little moan of despair leaked out of her mouth as he fought what was happening to him.
“I’m sorry. So sorry. There’s no other way,” Kyra whispered.
“Who the hell are you?” Peyton demanded, wincing as lightning flashed through his circuitry.
“Just someone who thinks this bullshit has gone on long enough,” Kyra answered, patting his hand. She knew one of his hands was cybernetic, but at the moment she couldn’t recall which one. She could only hope Captain Elliot felt her touch.
“No... Who are you really? You activated the creator code,” Peyton stated, his voice breaking through bursts of pain.
Kyra drew in a sharp breath. “Yes. I did activate the creator code, but how do you know about that? The code is buried in a locked file only Jackson or I can access.”
“Been trying... for years... to free myself,” Peyton admitted, groaning at what was happening in his head.
Kyra nodded and sniffed. “Good for you, Captain Elliott. I hope others are doing the same. Now stop fighting the reboot and shut completely down. It’s less painful if you don’t fight it. I’m going to remove your controller wiring. Please try not to kill me when you wake up.”
“Damn it... can’t kill you... programmed... to be... your... husband.” Peyton spat the words, letting his anger slip through the searing fire he was enduring. Being pissed was just too hard to block.
Kyra rubbed his arm as she sniffled harder. Even after watching others go through what he was, Peyton Elliot’s suffering was hard for her to witness. But sympathy had no place in what she was planning to do to him.
“Is that actually sarcasm, Captain Elliot? If so, I really like you for it. And thanks for proving the dickwad was wrong. The human brain is superior. I knew it was... or at least I’d hoped my suspicions were true.”
“This process... always hurts... like fucking hell,” Peyton declared.
Kyra used her sleeve to wipe his sweating brow, trying to soothe him. She was so out of practice. The woman that used to know how to give comfort had been gone for many years. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry. It’s going to get much worse before it gets better. Hang in there. I can’t knock you out because I don’t have the equipment. But once the processor is dead, you won’t feel what I’m doing.”
“Will I... remember you... or anything?” Peyton asked.
Kyra bit her lip at the question. Guilt consumed her because she didn’t have a answer for him.
Then Peyton 313 groaned loudly as his upgrades sizzled and popped inside his head. His neural attachments were probably freaking out at the separation from the organic paths he had painstakingly created. Kyra winced because she was having to destroy them along with the cybernetic links, but hopefully they would build back quickly... and better without any blocks.
Kyra was immensely relieved when the power dimmed further in his cybernetic eyes. Unconsciousness had finally descended and rescued them both from the unnatural torture she had inflicted.
3
As she donned her lab coat, Kyra closed her eyes and sent a plea out to the universe. “Please... please... please... let it work this time.”
There was no choice but to move forward. Peyton 313’s primary processor was now destroyed. If she didn’t replace it within a couple of days, his cybernetic heart would eventually run out of back-up power and stop beating.
Kyra swallowed nervously as she stared at the eerily still man. His eyelids hadn’t closed completely. Golden cybernetic orbs instead of human eyes glowed softly in reserve power warning from under them. At the time enhancements had seemed a viable strategy. A decade later it made her ill to think about all the perfectly functional human body parts that had been replaced on modified soldiers.
Lost in her remorse, Kyra walked numbly to her console, touching screen commands without really seeing them. “Record voice notes and visual of all work being done to restore cybernetic unit Peyton 313.” When she saw the camera activate and shine its roving eye at the man in the operating chair, she walked numbly back to her task.
She lifted a hand to brush the Marine Captain’s perfect hair back from his nearly unlined forehead. Peyton Elliot was definitely more handsome in person than his online records had portrayed him to be. Nothing in his profile had done justice to describing broad shoulders covered with sculpted muscles. His waist was lean but flared into strong hips bracketing a pelvis that naturally drew a woman’s eye to see what might be happening there. With the sexual training chip he had received as part of his Cyber Husband indoctrination, it was easy to understand why Peyton 313 had been optioned so many times.
But neither his proclaimed sexual talent nor his outstanding looks had been part of her purchase requirements when she had looked up his profile. For her, the most intriguing mystery about Peyton 313 would remain unanswered during his rebooted silence. Just how bad had the man’s human-based traits been that so many women had ended up returning him? His Cyber Husband record was full of vague criticism from his previous wives. Hyped-up propaganda had been written in his profile to excuse his shortcomings, but it was similar to that of UCN chancellors whose long-running political careers relied on them being well perceived.
“External review of the cybernetic unit’s responses indicates the reboot was successful in shutting down all on-board cybernetic controllers. His lack of body movement indicates that typical human unconsciousness occurred because of the extreme pain felt during destruction of the processor. Based on my discussion with Captain Elliott during his shutdown, he believed he had somehow been creating his own neural connections to his cybernetics. While long thought to be impossible, his rather startling question about how I had evoked the creator code—typically an unknown to the cybernetic mind—was enough to convince me that he was indeed being successful in regaining control.”
Kyra pushed her curiosity about Peyton’s comments aside as she finished recording her initial discoveries. All she could do now was hope she hadn’t been wrong in choosing to release the Marine captain from his cybernetic chains. Under full control of his cybernetics, the man would have lived two hundred years or more. But now? Kyra had no idea what the captain’s longevity would be. Not only was she changing his processor programming, she could very well be shortening his life span if he wasn’t able to keep his cybernetic enhancements in good condition. Her newly programmed processor would allow for natural neural pathways to be established, or maybe re-established in Peyton’s case if he was right about doing some internal rewiring on his own already.
The recording camera’s blue light panned around her as she worked. Long used to not discussing the restoration process with anyone, it was challenging now to remember to talk to the camera.
“Based on my past two failures at restoration, there are no predictable outcomes with any attempt. A full reversal is obviously not possible with any cyborg because it would have to include the removal of the cybernetic enhancements which require the processor to maintain. With Captain Elliott, my plan is merely to restore his cybernetics to a basic state that will allow his human mind to function alongside his enhancements. Whether this will ultimately prove to be a positive possibility for restoring other soldiers remains a theoretical supposition. Captain Elliott’s survival and adaption are critical to any scientific discovery
and proof.”
Kyra paused talking to consider what she was saying. There were a great many things that could go wrong with what she was doing. If she lingered on even one potential failure too long, she knew she might lose her nerve to finish what she had started.
She stared at her Cyber Husband’s handsome profile and waited another full minute before finally shaking off her indecision. Motivated at last, she strapped the chair restraints into place around his ankles and wrists. She had to expand the one for his chest to the maximum width her confiscated operating chair allowed. That’s when another truth about the situation hit her full force, and worse than it had with the first two cyborgs she had tried to restore.
“Add a personal note to Peyton 313’s file. Start recording. There is no universe in which it is fair that such a strong, good man’s free will should be thwarted by a few simple spoken words in his ear. Further apologies for my part in this would only be redundant. However, I remain incredibly ashamed of myself for not acting sooner to rescue all cyborgs from this unnatural fate. End note. Pause recording.”
Tears—hot regretful tears about her part in the Marine Captain’s circumstances—fell on the metal bands holding him in the chair. They fell faster than she could blink them away. An occasional swipe with the sleeve of her lab coat was necessary to keep working.
“I’m truly sorry I didn’t do this a long time ago, Captain Elliott. I hope it really is a case of better late than never. Restoration will work this time—I swear it,” Kyra whispered.
After she had secured him as best she could, Kyra walked to a nearby sink and washed her face. Nervous nausea threatened to eject the measly breakfast she had consumed earlier. This time when she had killed the primary processor, she hadn’t left any of the government’s latest updated programming behind. Instead of trying to amend existing code as she had twice before, she had totally erased all former initialization routines from Peyton 313.
Ashland 297: The Alien Agenda Page 10
