Upgrade [edit]

Upgrade

By Scott Keith Hess

An event in the history of The Bleeding Roses

Rain, on a day like today, it just had to rain.  School was out, and I was on my way to get an upgrade.  Earlier, Dad had said that he had a surprise waiting for me at the hospital, a shiny new set of parts, cutting edge he’d said.

"Anna!" I stopped walking and turned around, only to see Tesla running towards me.

"Wait up," Tesla gasped, as she stopped beside me to catch her breath.

"Whats up Tes?" I shifted my shoulder as the bag I was carrying started to slip from it.

"Can I go with you? I want to see you get your upgrade," Tesla was looking to major in cybernetics, much like my dad had.  She would want to talk to him too, geek out about the advances in cybernetics, and the roles that they, as doctors and technicians, play.

"As long as you don’t spam the web with what upgrade I got, 'OMG a DIY kit, liek totally lame powers o.O'," I didn't need the people at school freaking out about what brand I get.

"You know me, I'm a wall," she mock flexed, and made that look, the one that was a total liar’s face.  I knew very well that Tes was completely unable to keep a secret.  I was convinced that it wasn’t in her genetic makeup.

"A wall?” I returned her face with my face, the one that meant, ‘I’ve known you too long for that to work,’ “Whats it made of, croutons?" Tesla just looked at me.  It was uncanny, Tes’ ability to actually show emotion on her face as the emoticons she so loved, right now, "XD" was plastered all over it.  Obviously I let her come along regardless, she was my best friend, there really wasn’t even a doubt that she would stay behind.  Tesla practically floated along behind me as we walked through the parking lot.  If she had been a dog, I was certain that she would have flown away into the stratosphere due to the energy of her tail wagging.  That, or her ass would have lit on fire.

As we walked, I wondered how well she would handle riding with me again.  Last time she had almost puked in her helmet.  As my bike came into view, I turned to see the look on her face, as I’d hoped, it was priceless. Her face went pale as the blood drained from it, right into the pit of her stomach, I was sure.  I on the other hand, felt amazing.  The simple knowledge that I was getting rid of these awful medical prosthetics made me feel like cooling fluid was circulating through every vein.  Dad said these new parts would be more responsive, but really, what I was most excited about was the new look.  The sterile, rounded parts of the hospital tech was boring, and didn’t match anything I wore. The sky-blue frame and green rubber-covered joints meant that every shirt I owned was long sleeved.

My bike was big, very big.  Dad wouldn’t let me buy one unless it was a tank, and had me change over to mid-grade Grinder-pilot rated cybernetics, not a lot mind you, only what it would take to be able to ride the bike with improved performance.  The synchronization with the bike that the Grinder parts gave me, allowed me to better balance while riding, and in all, ride with more efficiency.  Most people who tagged along for the ride ended up sick, but if they could only see things the way I did, they would understand me better.

I unlocked the bike’s saddle bags and donned my jacket and helmet.   Tesla just stood there, already looking a bit queasy.  I handed her my extra helmet and she put it on as slow as she could.  Before getting on my steed, I pull the cable from its instrument panel, and run it to the connection on my neck.  Syncing with my bike changed things, the way I felt, the way I saw, the way I experienced and perceived the world around me.  It felt like I had been pulled into a lucid dream, my body began to feel numb as I took my position.

"Alright, lets go Tes," she hesitated, standing firmly on the safety of the paved ground, but soon slid onto the seat behind me, gripping me like I was a pillar of safety in a storm, holding on for her life.  All there was to do was punch it, and the bike pulled out of the quickly emptying University parking lot, and hit the freeway.

We arrived at the hospital in record time, for some reason the streets weren’t as cluttered as I was used to them being.  We parked in the underground garage, and took the elevators to level seven of the hospital, cybernetics and prosthesis.  The floor was extremely active, everything happening at once, all hanging in a delicate frenzy.  It seemed to me to be much like carefully synchronized dominos, moving together, but never touching, fragile enough that if even one person slipped, beautiful, and terrible chaos would ensue.

"Oh, why hello Anna," it was Barbara, the receptionist, who woke me from my thoughts.  She had looked up from her monitor to see Tes and I standing at the mouth of the elevator, my friend still searching for her land legs.  Barbara smiled softly, as she was apt to do, as we walked to her desk.

"Looking for your father are we?" she asked, her voice was sweet, and comforting.

"Yeah, I'm getting my upgrades today," I responded, I felt myself swelling with pride at the thought.  The happiness was almost more than I could handle, and it showed in my smile.

"Oh, well good for you,” from anybody else I wouldn’t have believed they really cared, but Barbara was different, I knew that she was really happy for me, “You'll be surprised when you see what they look like, you’re really in for a treat!" she smiled as if she were keeping a big secret.  It made my anticipation that much greater.

"Your father, Dr. Nicholas is in the middle of a big project at the moment, but his break is coming up soon.  We'll start you in room 706, down the hallway on the left" she stood from her seat and held my hand, though the gesture was kind, it was lost in the prosthetic somewhere along the way.

"Remember, if you and your father ever need anything, I'm always here for you," It was just Barbara being Barbara, but I was tired of the ‘in need of sympathy,’ image I somehow emanated everywhere I went.  It had been years, but no matter what I did, I could never seem to adequately express the fact that I could very well take care of myself.

"Thanks Barbara," I said, rolling my eyes, the tone and manner expressing that I was upset by the show of sympathy for me.  Barbara, ever kind-hearted, simply smiled her soft smile, and took her seat once more.  Tesla and I strolled our way over to the room, and tussled a bit over who got the comfortable seat in which to wait for my dad, I lost, and ended up sitting on paper covered examination bed, which crunched every time I moved.  It wasn’t long before the door opened, and my father walked in, seriously considering a clipboard.

"It’s... cancer.  I'm afraid, we'll... have to remove the head," he said, looking up to grin at me as he shut the door behind him.

"Oh Dad, think your a funny guy huh?" Dad smiled at me, his cheerful demeanor slipping only a notch, and only showing for a moment, when he saw that Tesla had tagged along.

"Why hello Tesla, would you mind terribly if I asked you to wait outside for a bit," Tesla sprung from her seat and headed for the door.

"Nope, not at all Dr. Black, as long as I can get in on Anna's procedure!" I rolled my eyes and leaned away, my futile attempt at hiding, Dad looked over at me, and I nodded in acceptance.

"How about a front row seat,” Dad smiled, warily this time, “we'll hold it for you in the theater." Tesla bounced on her heels, giddy with excitement, before practically flying out the door in obedience.  Dad sat down across from me, he looked exhausted.  He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, a clear sign he was frustrated.

"You okay Dad?" I ventured, stretching my metal limb out to him and letting him grasp it, his grip firm, though my metal hand couldn’t feel it.

"It’s this project Anna, its kicking my ass.  I've told you about my work, most of it you shouldn't know.  But this..." he slumped his back, and exhaled deeply.  Whatever it was that he was working on, it was beating him up.  Inside and out.

"I love you Anna," he looked at me, his face was both stern, and soft.  It was open, and showed some of the sadness that he kept inside. It was the face he made when he was serious.

"I know Dad." I said.  Softly squeezing his hand with my own.

"This one is a girl, she's... so young, so frail looking.  Marcus just sees her as a platform for scientific progress, a new set of parts to work with.  We’re... we're turning her into a machine, a monster, and... I'm part of the development," I spotted a tear on his face, I wrestled my hand from his and wiped it away, unable to feel the rough stubble beginning to cover his face, it was longer than I knew he liked it.  Another sign of his physical and mental stress.  I got off the bed and sat next to him.

"She's younger than you, I cant even imagine what life she lived before she got here, and I’ve tried as hard as I can not to imagine what life she could have lived had she had the chance to."  He breathed deeply as he spoke, and raised himself up to lean backwards in his chair, his hand once again moved to his eyes.

"Where is she Dad? Can I see her?" I wanted to try and better understand it all.  Better support him.  After all, he was all I had as far as family.  He had always been there for me, always smiling.  I tried to smile now.

"Her torso is complete,” he sighed, and sat up, “her arms are done, down to the elbow right now.” turning to me, I saw the decision made through his eyes.  “Once your upgrades are complete, and the physical therapy is dealt with, she'll be done, then I’ll let you meet her." He had regained his composure now, he set his glasses back into place, as well as his business face.

"I'm sorry my darling, but I won’t be able to oversee your upgrade this time.  This project is too high a priority for any of us to take on other work until it’s completed.  I’m sorry, the project began on very short notice, I wasn’t able to receive leave.  I'm leaving you in Vincents hands, you know Vincent, he’ll do good work." I didn’t like the idea of Dad not doing my work but this didn’t seem like something I could argue with him over.

"If you have to,” I felt disheartened, and looked away for a moment.

"I do, the only other option would be to postpone the upgrade.” Dad knew what my response would be.

"Yeah,” I smiled at him, “That’s so not happening. Oh yeah! Barbara said that you have a big surprise for me," he smiled.  Standing, he walked to the room’s counter, and pulled a large metal briefcase out of the cabinet.  My heart was beating hard, he turned it around.  The case read 'Dark Blood Works: Model 88 "Stampede"’ My organs almost jumped out of my throat, it was the exact model that I wanted.  It was childish, but I still jumped for joy, hugging my father, maybe a little too tight, as he quickly set the parts down on the counter.  Seconds later Tesla barged in, no doubt because of the shouts of joy and thank yous that were streaming from my mouth, and joined in the celebration, but not before sending out a mass message.  The nurse entered the room amid the din, likely unsure of what to do

"Um, Dr. Black, we're ready for your daughter now," she decided to interject.  Having to raise her voice a bit and knock on the already open door.

My dad was the only one to notice the nurse, and responded, "Thank you nurse.” embarrassed, I let go of my father, so that he could continue to speak to the nurse.  He gestured at Tes, and adjusted his glasses in one fell swoop. “This is Tesla Watchman, she would like to observe the operation.  Be sure to let Vincent know." The Nurse nodded her understanding and escorted Tesla and me out.  I gave my dad another quick hug before leaving the room.  

Me and Tesla spoke as we made our way to the operating room, not about anything specific, just random chatter, things from school, fashions, thoughts.  Eventually we turned down a hall which was much less trafficked, a single woman stood in the hallway, waiting outside a closed door with one of those indoor cigarettes, the end was glowing a light purple.  She was dangerously twirling a knife between her hands, stopping to admire the weapon now and again before continuing to pass it gracefully through her fingers, and between hands.  As we walked past her, time seemed to slow. She looked me straight in the eyes, there was a break in our contact as her knife passed into view obscuring her eyes.  For what seemed to count into minutes, all I could see was her silver hair, with hints of yellow and green reflected from the lights.  When our eyes met again, Tesla nudged me.

"Hey are you even listening to me?" she whined?  Feeling under-appreciated for the falling of some story of hers on deaf ears.

"Oh, sorry Tes, Daydreaming I guess," I looked back and heard a faint call from the room the woman was guarding.

"Ed, c'mere please," the voice called, the woman deftly slipped the knife away, making it seem like it simply disappeared between passes, and left the hallway.  

We soon made it to the operating room and I changed into the medical gown which was set out for me.  Afterwards, I simply stood, looking at my reflection.  Both legs, an arm, most of my internal organs, a single eye, and my ears, all of them made from plastic and metal. I held my prosthetic arm out, if I concentrated hard enough I could make it stand still.  If I ever forgot, it would twitch a little, sometimes when it left my mind completely it would have a tendency to more than just twitch, ranging from a gentle nudge, to a full swing of the arm, or a kick.  Part of it could be blamed on Tes, part on myself, for letting her experiment on occasion, it didn’t make the already finicky parts better.  All the sleep I'd lost because of it all.  After this my insomnia will be a thing of the past.  There was a knock on the door, as well as an announcement.  It was an announcement which I was certain heralded the beginning of my new life.

"We're all set to begin."

Dreaming in digital [edit]

Dreaming in Digital

By Scott Keith Hess

An event in the history of The Bleeding Roses

Here I am, standing in a snow covered field.  There’s a ship lying on its side, the single object of any worth, everything else a barren wasteland.  I can hear a voice in the back of my mind.

"Tell us Dakka, what is it that you see right now?"

"I see a ship, an old tanker of some sort just lying here, as if it sunk decades ago.  It makes me wonder if this was the bottom of a lake," there is chatter in the recesses of my mind, voices whispering to each other.

"What do you desire to do, Dakka?" I’m cold out in the field, I have little clothing and the frigid wind is nearly more than I can bare.

"I want to go inside the ship," I say, and proceed to do so.  The inside will likely be hard to walk around in but I'm confident that it won’t be an issue.  I step atop the deck, various colors in the rust spectrum dominate the once light blue deck, walked upon by the crew of times past.  The deck is slicker than I think it will be, I have to time my movements to get to the door, the door I see just a few yards away.

I make it.  Out of breath and cold I manage to get the handle.  I swing with the door and get a foot in the arch.  The delicate balance is hard to maintain but with concentration, I get in.  I stumble once inside. it feels like the gravity has shifted upright in the ship. More eerily, the innards look as if the halls have never been out of service, it’s clean.  I explore, there isn’t a soul to see.  I come closer to the center I hear music, a piano.

"Whats going on?" the voices asked me.

"The inside, its so luxurious.  No rust, no decay, its a cruise ship of the most exquisite type." More chatter between the voices.

"What will you do?"

"I'm curious about the music I hear, I'm investigating it." I hold a hand out to the wall, the paint is rough on my fingertips as my hand slides across its black and gold accents.  As I get closer, the music becomes familiar.  I stand.  Staring at a door 'GRAND HALL LVL 2.'  The piano just behind it.  I slip my hand into the elaborate brass handle and cautiously open the door.

"Honey, I'm home." I see who is sitting at the piano and jerk away in surprise and shock.  A replication of the cybernetics within my body.  The wires within me, naked, running to exposed plugs on the surface of what should have been my skin, form a vague and frightening skeleton.  Arms, legs, torso, all there.  Nausea.  Confronted with the reality, the vision, of myself, as I am.  Frightened by the thought that this may be how others see me.  There are more metal replacements than I’d imagined.  More metal replacements than flesh.  My red and yellow spine emits a deep purple glow between each link.  I look down at my hands and arms, over all of myself.  The plugs and other exposed machinery are all missing. I remember, it’s as if that horrible surgery, which feels so far away, yet so close, never happened.  

The skeletal figure at the piano stops, the gentle melody turning to discord, then silence.  It looks at me.  Something is wrong, the cybernetics which should be set in the front of the cranium were set in the back. A chill goes down my spine, this isn’t right. It’s terribly wrong.  I look around the room and find other metal bodies, bodies floating as if unbound by the laws of nature.  Bodies that I recognize.  One is Breech. The observation made plain by the heavy work in the arms, chest and head, and confirmed by the eyes.  The eyes are the same as hers.  Blank, but filled with experience that belonged to Breech and no one else.  A void, with all the wisdom, and potential, of the night sky.

There is another.  Just an arm.  Ratchet.  A total nutcase.  The amount of work she's inflicted upon herself simply for a cybernetic arm is immense.  Only one body remains.

It is an absolute work of art in a cybernetics.  A total human replica down to the musculature.  Such a beautiful piece... but merely a cage. Even the most beautiful of cages is still a cage, this, a cage for a soul to live in, alone and afraid.  The question burns within me, killing me, to whom does this cage belong?  Or rather, who has been committed to it, locked away, with no chance of escape but death.  Not Delta, his body isn’t nearly so... fine, and feminine.  MooK? or even Levan?  The only possibilities I know of, the only two whose lithe frames might match what I see before me.

The voices return, buzzing in a place of my mind I cannot identify.  They fade, the already faint whisperings turn to static and the semblance of music. I turn to the piano, expecting it to be the source of the melancholy tune.  My skeletal metal doppelganger however, is not playing it.  It’s coming towards me slowly, along with the other chassis. They’re surrounding me.  I back towards the door, fear and claustrophobia setting in. Before I make it far, the door snaps shut behind me, I turn to it, pounding, but nothing I do can break through it.  A hand grabs my shoulder and turns me around.  I see the fist of the unknown body, the work of art, the cage, flying through the air towards my comparatively frail and soft human flesh.  Soon it will strike me, break me.  I brace myself for the blow, but something changes.  Everything around me distorts into a psychedelic twist of tie-dyed colors before reverting to wire frame.  My psycho-analysis for grinder piloting was complete.

"Do you want the good news, or the bad news Dakka?" A voice speaks to me, it still feels far off, unreal.

"The bad news?" Even the sound of my own voice seems alien.

"The bad news is... you get to go out and get shot at again"  My vision returns, to reality, or as close as I know to it.  I raise myself to look at the speaker.

"And the good?"

"You get the benefit of piloting a grinder to protect you.  Your evaluation went well," the analyst fits the words in between grunts as he fights off Ratchet, alive, in the flesh, who doesn’t hide her eagerness to view the instrument cluster.

"Were you guys able to see what I saw when I was in the machine?" My mind fights between the relief of disclosure, and the horror of judgement.

"No, why? did you see something strange? a glitch maybe?" On short thought, I find that I’m not sure how to explain what I saw near the end of the analysis.  I decide that the experience is one best kept to myself for now.

"The... sky...” I mock thought, even as the words hesitantly spill from my mouth, “It looked a little too blue." I can only wait, breath locked away, for a response, one which comes quickly, but in a silence which feels to last a lifetime.

"Hmm...” the analyst turns to a clipboard to take a note, perhaps a reminder, and checks some of the readouts on the panel before him.  I still wait. “I suppose we'll have to look into the coding again,” more notes, “regardless,” he turns his eyes back to me, “you’re free to go."

 

I stand, uncomfortably to say the least, and head towards the door, looking to ditch the miserable form fitting test suit which they had made me wear.  I step into the adjoined room and put my catsuit and coat back on, more ready than ever to head back home.

~~~~~~~~~

Walking the familiar halls of the unit’s combat carrier, I wind my way to Kata's room, I need to ask her what she knows about the body, the angelic and unknown wraith which has stalked my mind since seeing it aboard the ship.  I knocked on her door, not knowing what to expect, or why I expect anything at all.  However, I know of nowhere else to turn, and if anybody will know anything, it will be Kata.

"You may enter" Kata’s muffled voice drifts through to me from the other side of the heavy door.  I push the door open to find her sitting and working at her desk.  She stops to look up, and speak to me, slightly surprised it seems.  "Dakka, do you need something?"

"Kata,” I began, “I need to ask you about something.  Something I saw while I was in analysis.” Kata looks interested, but says nothing.  I continue, “Near the end of it all, I came across representations of our cybernetic implants.  Mine, Breech's, Ratchet's, and another.  One that I couldn’t identify.  Is there a Rose,” I picture the work of art in my mind, its details etched into my mind, “with nearly one-hundred percent body replacement?" Kata’s face twists from a look of interest and concern to one of dismay, as if it’s a question which she hoped never to be asked, and which she would be unhappy to answer.  She seems to struggle with herself, her eyes dart from object to object on her desk.

“I didn’t come in for a display of nervous ticks,” I nearly growl, “,just tell me what I want to know, or tell me to get out."  I can hardly control what I do or say, so strong is my obsession, my need to know.

"Alright,” Kata replied firmly, “just cool down.”  She lets a sigh, of relief, or of distress, I can’t tell.  “Now, let me get this straight, you’re saying that while you were put under for analysis, you saw what your cybernetics look like, along with some others that you believe were the other Roses.”  I had taken a seat as she spoke, and now nod, wary of the implication of there being something wrong with my account.  “What I would like to know from you, Dakka, is how you know just how both of these comrades cybernetics are set within their bodies." Kata stands, and turns to look out the porthole behind her.  I consider response, but she doesn’t allow time for it.

"Unless what you see is merely what your subconscious mind wants them to look like on the inside...  In other words," Kata looks back at me, “merely what you think their cybernetics look like.

"I doubt you’ve ever seen blueprints, it’s all far more complex than your projections would indicate. More to the point however," Kata leans on her desk, and pulls a tablet from one of the many slots on her terminal, with a short investigation of the contents, she tosses it across the desk to me.  I catch it, and  scroll through the information it contains.

"Wait... this is... who owns it?” I feel my mind racing, “of all the people to have a body... like that." I’m nearly whispering, not certain whether the words I speak are directed at Kata, myself, or to no-one. I close my eyes and bend my neck over the head of the chair I sit in, exhaling deeply.

Kata speaks again, "The percentage of machinery in this model is so extreme, it would make more sense to give it grinder classification rather than cyborg."  Kata again turned to the tiny window.  "Dakka, this information is not to be discussed with anyone else.  Nobody.   I showed it to you only because I trust you.  We've been through a lot together, and I feel this is the right thing to do, don’t prove me wrong."

"Kata, this...” I can hardly speak, “this information is... incredible.  From anybody else I would never have believed it.  I don’t know what to say."

"Good,” Kata turned her head to me to finalize the conversation, “Then don’t.  Not a thing."

Organ Donor [edit]

One of my editors decided to work on Organ Donor, so here is the edited and revised version.  I havent made any changes to this, and I plan to do so.

Enjoy.

Organ Donor

By Scott Keith Hess

An event in the history of The Bleeding Roses

Coffee had never been my favorite drink, but at this moment it was the only thing keeping me up through these boring hours.  The donor would be in soon and construction of the new Whiskey prototype could begin.

I took the first sip of my latest cup of 'English toffee' flavored drink and spilled some of the contents on my hand as I pulled it away from my mouth, it was way too hot.  After biting through the burn on my hand I decided to cool it down with some cold water.

"Hey Marcus, still awake are we?" Nicholas said as he trotted into the break room.  He reached for the same pot I had poured my cup from, and took a large drink of the scorching hot coffee.

"Hanging on by threads at the moment.  Think though, just minutes ‘til our organ donor arrives, I'll be up and going like no other by then"  I took a seat and started stirring my cup, an annoying habit I wanted to break.

"I'm not sure if you know but I'll be in on the procedure today, Vincent couldn't make it," Nicholas informed me, before taking in another large slurp of his hot drink.

"Well that’s... unlike him, must be something big,” My mind was on bigger things though, I changed the topic, “Have you read the report on the subject?" Nicholas’ face turned from a tired smile to a look of worried sorrow, maybe even guilt, it was hard for me to tell.

"I did," he coughed.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"No, well... a bit," he didn't want to spit it out.  My prying expression telling him, 'you should know better by now' got to him.

"Think about it Marcus, all of the Phonetics we've constructed to this point have been what we would expect to see for military use.  Large battle hardened soldiers built nearly to Grinder specifications, with all accessories unattached.  But this one is on the opposite side of the scale." I wasn't sure if it was me, or the fatigue, but listening to him was hard.  Outside of the break room we heard the doors slam open and people yelling to get out of the way.  We poked our heads out to see a gurney with a clear plastic body bag on it.  Our organ donor had arrived.  A feeling like a spring shooting through my spine told me that it was time to work.

"She looked so young," Nicholas said, as the gurney rushed past the break room door.

"Report said she was 21 at time of death,” I retorted.  Leading Nicholas out of the break room, and down the hallway, in a slow pursuit of the gurney.  Looking at Nicholas though, it seemed more like a funeral procession, the sorrowful walk to a grave, rather than a groundbreaking leap in cybernetic technology.

"Did you see her though? She looked like she could be my daughter."

"You mean 'it' looks like it could be your daughter."

"Just because she's passed on doesn't mean she's any less human." Nicholas was making it personal, a bad move on his part.

"You and me are scientists Nicholas, becoming attached to our work on such a small scale like that is what puts progress in a bottleneck.  She was an organ donor, now she's dead.  We bought her body and now its our property, we can do whatever we please with our purchased materials." Nicholas didn't look happy with me but as far as I was concerned it was the truth.  We continued on our way to the operating room at a comfortable, slow pace.  As we made like sloths down the hall a large box joined us on the pilgrimage.

"Ah, good, the projects here." I felt giddy.

"The what?" Nicholas said.

"That,” I nodded to the box, “is Project Whiskey"

"It looks like a coffin to me,” Nicholas stated grimly, “this whole project seems to be a huge risk, it seems..." He paused, “somehow, wrong.”

"Every single piece of technology in that 'coffin' is a brand new material, all of the tech in it has only ever been tested in computer simulations and other minor tests. I guess we could say, Whiskey, when complete will be a prototype, composed of prototypes down to the N'th degree.  Yes it is a risk, but the reward will be sweet. This is the most efficient way to test these parts in an absolute non-bias environment.  All of the successful testing will be transferred to “Project Alfa” later on, but that's going to be quite a while from now, at least, from what the estimated testing periods will be," Nicholas still looked sad, despite my passion for the project.

"So, Whiskey is just a prototype, while Alfa will be the production model.  What happens when the testing is over?"

"Whiskey's operating time is unknown so we'll take what tests we can, based on its overall time in action.  The testing isn’t over until it’s non-functional"

"Where is it going to get this 'non bias' testing?"

"Levan said that Whiskey, under a different name will join a naval mercenary group called the Bleeding Roses, where it'll become a member and be trained in multiple forms of combat," I said, a slight belt of pride in my voice.

"Where 'she,' will become a member," Nick persisted.  Nicholas was a good person, but with his background, it would have been better for Vincent to have been here instead.

"Nick, listen.  Once this operation is over 'she' will have a cybernetic body percentage of 94, 'she' will be a machine designed as a test platform for the metal and synthetics 'she' will use everyday. In order to further the success rate of the testing 'she' will be unaware of the fact that 'she' is almost a cyborg on a Tier 8 Grinder specification. Whiskey will be designed to operate and act as a total human, with no room for attachments. Even if Whiskey wanted to it couldn't operate a Grinder." We arrived at the operating room. The body and the replacement parts were all together now. We got cleaned up and prepped for the operation. The lead scientist wanted to review the operation once more before we started.

"Thank you for being here everyone.  Now I know its been a hell of a week, BUT... if everything goes as planned today, we'll be on cruise control for the duration of testing, testing that we would have otherwise had to have done manually for these parts.  As of now, the only parts of the actual body we need are the brain and the eyes, the rest will be going elsewhere to be used as... well I'm not sure, BUT, that doesn't matter.”

I yawned.  I didn't like how the head scientist spoke, it was annoying, and yet he persisted in continuing to do so.

“The body has already been scanned and recreated so we can develop project Whiskey to the body's exact specifications... while leaving room for... this and that. BUT! we will still be very very careful with what we need.  I hope you've done what you needed to because... the next 6 hours will be long ,BUT rewarding"

The 6 person team stepped into the room, the body lying there just eager to be taken apart.  I picked up a scalpel and slid it and my fingers up and down the leg, before getting elbow-nudged by Nicholas.  Behind us, a projector PC spread out the details of our operation.  I was in a mild high at the moment, filled with pride that I was helping science to proceed forward.  The 6 hours ahead of us for the beginning of this test seemed more like a test of how long I could enjoy myself.

For science, I could do this forever.