Cyborg Nation Kaitlyn O'Connor (books to get back into reading TXT) 📖

begun ‘life’ as machines. Reproduction was beyond them, beyond any of them. The simplest organisms could reproduce. The most complex could, but nature was the determining factor in procreation. Mankind, as advanced as they were, could not start with nothing and make something.

The company certainly wouldn’t have any rhyme or reason to give the cyborgs reproductive organs, artificial or otherwise. Functioning sex organs in the sense of recreation certainly—that had been a huge boon to the industry—but nothing beyond that.

She didn’t think they had made a mistake and taken a pediatrician when they had needed some other specialist.

For that matter, it seemed odd that they would think they would need any kind of doctor. As Gabriel had pointed out, they had nanos for repair, and the nanos were programmed to repair whatever the problem might be, mechanical or biological in nature. Sure, she supposed there would be instances like the one she had helped with, but she thought they would’ve managed well enough without her.

She just hadn’t been able to resist sticking her nose in because she suffered from a conviction that she had to help if anyone was hurt or sick.

Trying to reason through it when she had nothing to go on made her head hurt. It seemed evident anyway that they meant her no harm … beyond taking her against her will, that is.

She realized, though, that she was struggling with it because she needed the reassurance. If she could convince herself they had a purpose for her that didn’t involve ending her life, she would feel better, less frightened even though she was in a situation she could neither control or escape from.

She wasn’t going to be able to do that, though, unless they decided to tell her something. After washing her face and hands for a good five minutes, she finally realized it wasn’t helping to soothe her and shut off the tap. Turning, she stared at the bathing unit speculatively for several moments and finally dragged her clothing off.

Water spouted from the thing, startling the hell out of her. She stood gaping at it for several moments before she finally nerved herself to get in. It was so cold it knocked the breath out of her. She grabbed frantically at the knobs, trying to turn the thing off, and discovered hot water. She scalded herself before she finally managed to figure out how to adjust the knobs to get both cold and hot at the same time.

“God,” she muttered. “This ship must be a real dinosaur!”

No one except colonists on more primitive worlds used water to bathe in anymore!

It felt good, though, she decided once she finally had the water adjusted. In fact, it felt better than just good. The hot water seemed to reach right down inside of her and warm the deep chill that had engulfed her. She stayed far longer than she should have, but it took all she could do to turn off the water.

She stood dripping for a while, trying to find a button that would activate the drying cycle. She was shivering by the time she finally gave up and got out of the bathing unit. Noticing a locker built into the wall, she decided to check for the possibility of clean clothing. Instead, she found large sheets of some sort of fluffy material. Shivering, she wrapped it around herself and, after surveying the options, settled on the toilet.

She thought she might have been happier if they had thrown her into a small cell and locked the door. Maybe she would have felt confined, at least after a while, but she would also feel safe locked away from them.

She had been sitting with her face in her hands long enough her feet and legs and buttocks had become numb from sitting when there was a rap on the door that startled the hell out of her.

“There is food,” said a disembodied voice from the other side of the door.

“Thank you!” Bronte responded automatically and then felt embarrassed and silly.

She wasn’t hungry. Her stomach was tied into knots. Even if she had been, she didn’t think she could face sitting down to a meal with the three giant cyborgs.

Assuming, of course, they ate.

Maybe they had only prepared food for her?

She didn’t care. She wasn’t hungry and she wasn’t coming out until she was good and ready. Realizing she was dry, she put her clothes back on, wondering if she was going to have to wear her uniform for the rest of her life and how much time that might translate into. When she was dressed, she wrapped the damp cloth around herself again. Damp or not, it gave her some added warmth, made her feel more shielded somehow.

After looking around, she finally decided to sit on the floor awhile and when she grew tired of that, she lay down on her side and curled up into a tight little ball. She lay listening to the sounds outside at first, a little surprised that they seemed to actually carry on conversations—not that she could make out what they were saying, but it sounded like it must be a conversation. She could hear first one voice and then another. She heard them passing back and forth by the room where she was holed up. A few times, she heard footsteps approach the door, pause for a few moments and then go away again.

She dozed off. She had no idea how long she’d been locked in the bathroom, but after a while the shaking stopped and she grew warm and relaxed.

The noise that woke her made her shoot to her feet in alarm, but it was only a deep seated, instinctual reaction to threat. It didn’t do anything for her equilibrium or even awaken her mind enough to really function. Opening wide, burning eyes, she stared at the hole where the door had been as the blond haired cyborg casually set the door he’d just ripped from the hinges to one side, stepped