Hey guys! Sorry for the time gap. School really keeps you busy! But somehow in that time I’ve managed to create a post-apocalyptic sci-fi story. (I know that topic is a bit cliché, but it just happened.) I’ll give you the prologue and I want FEEDBACK! 🙂 Please. Criticism is what a writer needs!
Prologue: Destiny Calls
I don’t have much memory of my past or why I’m like this.
All I know is that I am considered superhuman. Yet I am no superhero.
I am a drone working for the tyrants in the government building, designed to serve without question; I am machine and human being.
This is my story: one of rebellion, beginnings, and teamwork.
I guess one could call me a rebel—a vigilante if you will—when it comes to government… I’ll admit that laws are necessary, but lawmaking is arbitrary to my sense of mind since I understand the laws and the authority they hold.
But now I’m in a holding cell for my treason against my creators… I remember be socially normal for a time in my life—it’s a very faint memory—but I’ve been cybernetic for so long it has come to be my normal. I know what the consequences of treason are: shut down, reprogramming,and parole—strict parole.
This has become a routine for me because when society finds something that defies its rules, setups, or starts questioning its authority it immediately shuts it down as soon as it can strike. So the jail cell that has been perpetually reserved for me has been sealed with the latest improvement upon Plexiglas that is scratch-proof, shatter-proof, and virtually temperature-proof; within my inescapable chamber exists an electromagnetic wave-set that messes with my superhuman capabilities. That means one of two things: they have finally stopped underestimating me, or they have reached the nadir of human intelligentsia where we AIs are actually superior to their “creators”.
The director’s face appears on the other side of the glass. “E-119,” she begins, “this is the fifth time I’ve seen you in here over the past two weeks. I must ask why are you being so problematic?”
I bare my teeth in utter disgust. “I don’t have to tell you anything you know,” I reply snidely. “I do have freedom of speech.” I start balling my gauntlet-clad-hand into a fist, readying my muscles to fight. “You may have my cybernetics on lock down, but not my attachments.” I set the gauntlet’s heat gun onto the appropriate setting. Is your wall heat proof? About to find out. Firing directly at the glass at point blank I fall back, my head slamming against the opaque glass behind me and feeling my structure beginning to crack under the pressure from the inertia.
The director rolls her eyes. “You’ve truly become like our ancestors: primal and instinctual. You rely on emotion more than rational theory, which is strange for a cyborg… “ She sighs heavily in disappointment. “This is why you need to be permanently reprogrammed. We have no choice but to relinquish you from your freedom until you have learned that we know what is best for your survival and mankind’s existence. Perhaps if you learn that lesson early, you will be re-assigned to field work alone. But until then, you must be put on parole until you have understood what your place in our new society actually is.”
That cold face is the last thing I see before I black out.
Branch One is filled with operatives that do aggressive fieldwork for the government: military combat, etc; Branch Two is the Tactician Unit, providing the strategists, generals, and such of the like; Branch Three is the reconnaissance: ninja, stealth, snipers, hackers, and smiths. This information is elementary when inside the CYBORG institution. All cyborgs are sectioned off into certain battalions (B) that are organized (O) to perform specific military tasks; each cybernetically enhanced soldier is not only a soldier, but a law enforcement office. The soldiers during enhancement are probed mentally throughout the physical operation, wherein a psychiatric analysis is performed upon the thought process of each individual cyborg: how they process information, their unique strong suits, how they react under pressure.
This information is then processed to create the most idyllic mindset for the unique programming, taking in aspects like how they once learned and operated as a regular life form. The groups of technicians that form the pulse reactors that replace the former nervous system take the factors into account when referring to the control of the internal mechanisms of the artificial intelligence.
During the reprogramming process, the electrical systems are temporarily disconnected and the memory banks are replaced with a “faculty” set. The faculty set is then given the default foundation of code compilation for the unique assets of the soldier’s retrieved skill set. Once the skill set has been (re)created and consulted for, the cyborg is reactivated and monitored via a remote headquarters to see why the cyborg needed reprogramming. This headquarters records all found data, compiles it with the previous data in the soldier’s universal file in the database of the mainframe, and analyzes it.
By monitoring the actions of the parolee, the researchers can collect information on the subject’s actions and thought processes to formulate a conclusion about the internal reaction to the plague of the cyborgs: free thinking. Cyborgs are meant to be AI, artificial intelligentsia, that listen to the superiority of the mind of mankind that which created its existence. Why? All people of our generation know that humans are superior because of their adaptability, resilience, and quick/critical thinking.
After the slim survival of the human race, cyborgs were invented thanks to the safe housing of cybernetic technology, components, and their required manufacturing materials; these materials were then used to rebuild and modify losing human life forms in the battle between life and death. These new non-adaptable machines were designed to help the adaptable species survive, acting as survival tools proposed by the CYBORG Foundation after the event of the apocalypse.
An alarm sounds in G-427’s domain, a small red light blinking on his dorm’s task screen. It shows simple police work is needed down in the market sector about twenty minutes off. He slips on a holster for a .45 and slides open the door. Cautiously he checks the sleek halls to make sure he doesn’t wake any unneeded help. It’s late after all: 22:30.
Sadly, he’s caught by the rebel girl. “Where you goin’ Tommy-boy?”
He tries to politely shoo her away, but she just pulls on her boots and gauntlet insistently. Sighing, he allows her to tag along on such a simple mission.
The mission was a trap. The girl was captured by the authorities and brought back under C.Y.B.O.R.G’s watch. He was not fined or punished, seeing as he knew nothing of her. He doesn’t quite understand what happened to this day but he made a note to stay out of her sight so as to not bring up trouble.
He can’t ruin what he worked so hard to achieve.