The train was mostly empty. It's not like people have places to go around here. I sat alone in the back of the train while a group of three people sat further up. By the looks of them, they were standard humans so I paid them little attention as I opened my built-in newsreader and caught up on the latest pointless war Central was embroiled in.
Here's a tip, never set your heads-up display to be opaque because then you won't be able to see shit heads approaching you. The gaggle of standard humans were walking in my direction and it was then that I noticed they were wearing crucifixes around their necks. That meant they were fundies and this train ride wasn't going to be fun.
The first one, a tall dark-haired man with a face scarred from acne, opened his mouth, "It appears that we have a sinner on board." One of his friends, a short runt of a man, replied, "Amen, brother." Fundie number three, an old geezer who was probably their deacon, nodded and said, "We must seek atonement for this sinner." It was then that all three of them produced electric prods.
I stood up and drew both sais. The points of the sai in my left hand were aimed out while I kept the one in my right hand reversed. Because of the tight quarters of the train, the fundies had to come at me one at a time. Scarface was the first to move in. He swung his prod at me and screamed, "In the name of God..." but I interrupted his train of thought by catching the prod with my left sai. Sparks shot from the prod as it contacted the metal of my sai, but the insulated grip saved me from getting zapped. My right hand came forward and smashed the handle of my sai into his chest. His buddies stepped aside to give him room to fall, and I tossed the prod behind me.
Stubby charged. Again with the left sai I caught his prod. I flipped the right sai around as I swung my arm out. The long prong impacted his arm, and I could hear his bone break. Tossing the prod behind me, I brought the left sai forward again to hit his neck hard enough to cause pain, but not so hard that it killed him. Then I swung the right sai into his left thigh, which dropped him to the ground. With a quick kick to the head, he was unconscious.
Before Geezer could make his move, I stuffed the right sai back into my obi, drew my wakizashi, took a step forward and cut his prod in half. I also used the opportunity to stomp on and step over Scarface so I was no longer cornered.
Geezer opened his trap, "How dare you attack men of God?"
"Seriously? You attacked me first!"
"It is our duty to punish those who go against God's design!"
"Your god designed my body wrong. If you don't like it blame him!"
The old man's eyes widened, "Blasphemy!" He attempted to lunge towards me but ended up tripping over Scarface. I backed up so he had room to face-plant onto the floor.
All three men were alive and that's all Central's train security team would care about. Surveillance footage would clearly show that they attacked me, but pressing charges would be pointless because they would just claim "cyborg panic" and get off on temporary insanity. Returning my weapons to their proper place, I made my way to the front of the train. If Scarface, Stubby, and Geezer approached me again I'd break all of their limbs.
The train continued on its journey, and I read through the news. At each stop, new people boarded the train. Whenever a fellow cyborg got too close to the broken men I left in my wake, I'd yell, "Fundies!" and they'd back off. Outnumbered, the fundies kept to themselves.
By then, the train was approaching the Government Center that housed every Central creep tasked with running the Refuge. Giant holographic advertisements showed cyborgs fighting in some war. They were easily decimating the standard human of the opposing army. Text scrolled across that read, "Looking for work? Enlist in the Central armed forces today. All applicants accepted and service guarantees an operational permit." What the holo-ad didn't show were the opposing army's cyborgs tearing apart Central's cyborgs. It also didn't mention that your operational permit would be revoked as soon as your term of service concluded, which meant you'd be tossed right back into the Refuge. But recruitment numbers remained high because people will believe the lie when they're starving.
A chime sounded over the intercom and a woman's voice alerted, "Now approaching the Government Center." Almost everybody gathered around the doors as the train slowed. When the train stopped and the doors opened, the cyborgs made a mad dash out towards the Employment Bureau. They all knew only a handful of jobs, if any, that granted operational permits would be available. If the most desperate ones failed to get a job there, they would likely visit the Military Bureau next.
Nobody else boarded the train, but when it began moving again I noticed that the fundies were gone. I guess they decided to forgive me of my sins and move on to the next cyborg who had strayed from God's path.
###
“The reports released by pro-cyborg activists are exaggerated. The refuges aren’t ‘ghettos’ and the people within aren’t living in ‘squalor’. Central has ensured food, clean water, clothing, and shelter are available to everybody in the refuges. And the people living there certainly aren’t ‘held prisoner’. Jobs outside the refuges are made available to those Central has vetted and the military is always looking for brave men and women, cyborg or otherwise.”
— Elizabeth Carter,
Committee on Cyborg Integration
I'd never been to the northern sector of the Refuge. Compared to the southern sector, it was fancy. Most of the buildings had all of their windows intact, litter didn't cover every surface, and panhandlers were only working every other street corner instead of every street corner. It was the first time since arriving in the Refuge that I didn't feel like my life was in immediate jeopardy. Æsir's office was located several miles from the train stop. Every now and again I'd pass an individual wearing the same black suit, black shirt, black boots, and a red tie that Odin was wearing. Money certainly is more abundant here.
When I entered the office Odin was sitting at the front desk. He looked up and smiled, "Good to see you, Akane!" I bowed and he stood up to return the bow.
"I apologize for my wardrobe. I didn't have anything nicer."
Odin waved his hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it. I'm not trying to hire you for your fashion sense." He motioned for me to follow him and we made our way to a back office. The window of the door was inscribed with "ODIN, FOUNDER". I closed the door as he took a seat behind his desk and indicated for me to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. I pulled my katana out of my obi and plopped down into what was probably the cushiest chair in the entire Refuge.
"Let me give you the sales pitch."
He didn't waste any time.
"Central has tossed all of us cyborgs into these Refuges in the hopes of making our lives so miserable that we'll enlist in its military. Then it can drop us in a military chassis and send us out to slaughter whoever it has decided it doesn't like. With very few exceptions, the rest of us are left to rot. I don't like Central and I don't like its plan for us. That's where Æsir comes in." He touched a control on his desk and a holographic map of the Refuge appeared. A tiny portion of the northern sector was highlighted. "Two years ago I got together with a few business owners and proposed that we pool our resources to fight off the local gangs. Alone, none of us stood a chance but together, even with our meager means, we could hold our own. We formed a mutual defense pact. If any one of our businesses was robbed, the rest of us would respond in its defense. It worked."
Odin touched another control and the highlight portion of the map expanded slightly. "When other business owners noticed our success, they asked to join. Within six months, the local gangs withdrew from this area entirely. Now that we weren't being robbed, we found ourselves with a little extra money. We also found ourselves with extra customers since they were no longer being mugged. That extra money was used to hire a couple full-time guards so we wouldn't have to close our shops when coming to another member's aid." Another press of the control, and the highlight area grew again. "After one year, I formally founded the Æsir Security Gro
up. We are a mutual aid society paid by member contributions."
I examined the map. The highlighted portion was still a very small piece of the overall Refuge. "No offense, but you aren't covering a lot of area."
He nodded in agreement. "I know. But we're finally getting some real resources. We should be able to expand more quickly soon." This time when he tapped the control, a month counter appeared above the map. The counter started increasing, and the highlighted area continued to expand. "This is our current projection if things continue according to plan."
Odin was ambitious. He expected to cover the entire northern sector three years from now. "When you're king of the north then what?"
"Huh?" Odin looked confused for a moment then shook his head, "I'm not trying to become king. In fact I have no real power. Notice that the door says 'FOUNDER', not 'CEO'. I just manage this group. Any member can start their own group at any time. In fact I encourage them to."
There's a load of bullshit if I've ever heard it. I crossed my arms and tried to look as skeptical as possible.
"I'm not stupid. Central could send goons in at any time and charge me with some executable offense. And they probably will because my plan is going hurt their recruitment numbers. If I'm in charge, that's it, end of Æsir. But if I'm just one man managing one cell, the damage caused by taking me out will be minimal. Either somebody can replace me or neighboring cells can take over coverage of this area."
I continued to glare at him. He might have a grand plan and a slick presentation, but I stopped trusting anybody resembling law enforcement long ago. The men who tossed me into this shit hole were just doing their jobs after all.
"Not buying, huh? Would a demonstration be more convincing?"
"Maybe."
"OK." He hit a button on his desk and said, "Thor, would you come to my office?" Cyborgs only communicate with each other verbally out of habit. We can instantly transmit messages to one another wirelessly. Going through the motions of pressing a button and verbally requesting somebody to join us in his office meant he was either calling in a standard human or putting on a show for me.
The door to his office opened and a giant of a cyborg entered. And I mean giant. He had to duck his head to fit under the frame and his shoulders barely fit through without turning. Obviously the call had been for show.
"Thor, this is Akane Himura. Would you be so kind as to show her around the area? I'd like for her to see what we do first hand."
Thor looked me over and for the first time I can remember I felt a little intimidated. Then he spoke. His voice was probably deep enough to set off every seismograph within a 10 mile radius, "No problem. Let's go."
I stood up, slid my katana back into place, and followed the only person I've had to look up at since being transplanted into this body.
###
“People point to the increased number of cyborgs joining the military as proof that life inside the refuges is bad. That’s bullshit. Do you want to know what I think? I think more cyborgs are accepting responsibility for what happened at Port Arthur. Enlisting is their way of giving back to the great nation their brethren hurt so badly.”
— General George McCloy,
Central War Committee
Thor and I had spent the better part of an hour touring the area Æsir was operating in. For the Refuge, the area was nice. People seemed to care a lot more about their neighborhood when they weren't constantly getting beaten or robbed. My tour guide was surprisingly friendly. He made it a point to smile and acknowledge anybody passing by and even stopped and talked briefly with people who recognized him. The closer we ventured to the outskirts of Æsir's area of operations, the fewer people we saw out and about.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, I decided we should play 50 questions, "What's with the name?"
Thor laughed, "Aliases. When you're going against Central's plan it's best not to have your real name on any of the forms. None of the records kept by Æsir contain any personally identifiable information."
That made a lot of sense.
We rounded a corner just as somebody yelled "Thief!" The person was chasing a scrawny cyborg that was heading in our direction. Upon seeing us Scrawny tried to change his direction. Thor moved surprisingly fast for a man of his size, and the next thing I knew he had Scrawny in his tree trunk of an arm. He looked at the man in his arm then at the man chasing him and said, "What seems to be the problem?"
Chaser spoke first, "That little bastard stole a pack of protein bars from me!"
Thor held Scrawny out almost comically and started rifling through his pockets. He quickly found the protein bars and asked Chaser, "What's your Bytecoin address?" Chaser transmitted it to him and Thor must have explored the blockchain to see if a recent transfers had been made to Chaser's wallet. Judging by the unhappy expression on his face, he didn't find one. His gaze returned to Scrawny, "Do you want me to have him transfer video footage to verify?"
Scrawny hook his head, "No point. I stole them." His head hung low, "I haven't eaten in a week, and I can't afford any food."
"Bytecoin address?" Thor paused a second. Apparently satisfied with the man's claim, he put him down. He returned his attention to Chaser, "What's the charge?"
"0.000003."
"OK. I've transferred the funds to your wallet. I trust that concludes the matter."
Chaser looked surprised. "Yes. Um, thank you."
With a nod of Thor's head, Chaser departed. Then he turned his attention back to Scrawny, "Don't let me catch you stealing again, OK? If you're desperate, stop by Æsir's office and we'll see if we can find some work for you."
I was surprised that Scrawny could still stand with how badly he was shaking. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." With that, he proceeded to put as much space between himself and us as he could.
Thor continued on his way, and I caught up. After a long moment of silence I asked, "What was that about?"
Continuing to stare straight ahead he responded, "There was a dispute. I resolved it. Mission accomplished."
"You let the thief get away."
We stopped, and Thor looked down at me, "My job is to protect property and life, nothing more. Each Æsir member is free to exercise their own discretion outside of violence. The thief's story checked out. His blockchain showed no funds for over a week. For 0.000003 Bytecoin, it was less hassle for me to just pay the merchant and let them go their separate ways."
Before my life in the Refuge, I sometimes heard older people refer to the police as peacekeepers. I never really understood the term because they always solved matters with guns and electric prods. But I think Thor may have just embodied what they were talking about. "That was awfully good of you."
"May I ask you a personal question?"
I was taken aback by the sudden change in topic and only managed to stammer out, "Sure."
"Why did you go cyborg?"
"Huh?" I hate it when people pry into my past, but I had agreed to the question. "Well, I guess, since a young age I always felt like a woman trapped in a man's body. My options were either hormone replacement therapy and surgery or to have a new body, a better body all around, grown and augmented to the specification I wanted. The latter seemed to be the obvious choice. At least until they threw us all into Refuges."
He nodded. "Not an uncommon answer. I was left paralyzed from the neck down as a result of a bad automobile wreck. Going cyborg was the only way I would walk again."
We just stood there staring off in different directions for some several minutes. He was the first to break the silence, "My point is, if you ask 100 different cyborgs why they went cyborg, you'll hear 100 different stories of tragedy. All of us were fucked over by life and then fucked over again by Central. The only way we have any chance of making a life for ourselves is to work together. And that requires us to be good to one another."
Not only was this man a gentle giant, but he was a goddamn philosopher too.
###
“Law is no
thing more than decrees made by men in marble buildings. If a bureaucrat in Central says standing on one foot is illegal, then that is the law. Law enforcement would then be required to beat, kidnap, and imprison anybody who stood on one foot. So to answer your question, no. Æsir is not law enforcement. We are peacekeepers. The only thing we’re concerned with is protecting lives and property.”
— Odin,
Æsir Security Group
I stood my ground as the man holding a truncheon over his head charged me. When he was within range he swung the truncheon at my head, and I brought the sai in my left hand up to catch it. Then I swung the sai in my right hand at his arm, but stopped just before it impacted. He froze in position. “Now that I’ve caught the weapon, I strike his arm to make him let go of it.”
Both of us took a step back and bowed. My attention returned to the nine students watching our demonstration. “Once an aggressor is disarmed, you can restrain them.”
One of the students raised her hand and asked, “Freyja, err, sensei, wouldn’t a gun be better in this situation?”
“No. If you’re being attacked by a standard human, they won’t be able to put enough force behind a handheld weapon to cause any serious injury, so deadly force isn't warranted. If you’re being attacked by a cyborg, any firearm capable of stopping them will also be capable of penetrating barriers and that puts innocent bystanders at risk.” Satisfied with my answer, she bowed.
Another student raised his hand. He had better manners than the woman and waited for me to acknowledge him before asking his question. “Sensei, shouldn’t our safety be the primary concern.”
Anarchy Rising: The Clarion Call, Vol 1 (Volume 1) Page 7
