Lair Carl Stubblefield (bts books to read .txt) 📖

Insufficient life signs—will need to permanently integrate to sustain vitals.

Nanobot specialization features enabled, pluripotentiality lost as nanobots are anchored to target tissues…

Musculoskeletal embed… complete.

Neural embed… complete.

Cerebral embed… complete.

Endocrine embed… complete.

Remaining systems… complete.

Cerebral framework established, enhanced cognitive functions online. Patient stabilized. Brain functions returning to normal.

Integration with all major body systems complete.

Nanobots will be permanently required to maintain life functions for this host.

Supporting neural activity until external threat resolves…

Evaluating…

Preliminary scans show unique latent genetic and mental augments, commencing deep scan. Rudimentary maintenance functions until the scan is complete.

To the outside observer, the small man-shaped form continued its slow voyage. Bobbing in the waves. Tiny solar panels on the outside of the suit absorbed energy during the hot days and transferred the energy to the nanobots as they worked. As the nanobots became more specialized, eventually they all sacrificed this ability to recharge themselves from external sources to save their host.

Chapter Three

Riot Nrrrd

The tiny robots continued to rush to relieve the pressure from internal bleeding on Gus’ brain. In doing so, they had to close off more bleeders and metabolize the fluids that were building up and putting pressure on the brain, making it hard for blood to flow freely and oxygenate the delicate organ.

Electrical stimulation had to occur as the effects of the field suppressed the cells ability to work on their own. They fairly crackled as they worked, firing neurons along the way, plunging Gus deep into memories he forced himself to never revisit.

###!###

8 years ago…

Gus had pulled into the shopping center, scooting his little VW bug into a parking spot. He needed to get some parts for his car, to try to fix one of its myriad problems. Despite this, he still felt lucky Grandpa had given him the car on his fifteenth birthday. Most people used public transport these days, but Gus relished the freedom his own car offered.

“It will need tons of work, Gus, but these Fuscas are designed so that they can be easily repaired. You’ll learn a lot, Gus, and being self-sufficient does a lot for a man.”

Gus smiled at the memory and how his grandpa always called them that, ‘foo-skuhs’. Today’s project was changing the belts. He headed across the parking lot to the AutoMaxx. It must have been the first of the month, because the parking lot was crowded with people swarming the Grocertopia next door. It was always busy when allotments were distributed. Luckily for Gus, the allotments only accounted for food, so the AutoMaxx shouldn’t be crowded.

After picking up what he needed, he headed back to his car. An elderly African-American lady was in the process of loading her groceries into her car which was parked next to his, and a teenager about Gus’ age was prowling around, speaking harshly to the woman while she silently tried to put her groceries in her car as fast as she could. Gus couldn’t make out what was being said, but assumed it was threatening with how the teen was waving his hands around, almost like he was going to slap the poor woman at any moment. She cringed away, shrinking in on herself as she tried to hurry.

Gus noticed the punk’s friends standing in a circle about fifty feet away, laughing and watching the scene. Was this some kind of initiation ritual for a gang or something? One of the things that pissed Gus off in this district was the prevailing thought that might made right. Sure, you could call the enforcers, but they would calmly listen to your story and then politely tell you that they didn’t have the resources to chase after everyone who was a little aggressive. It was survival of the fittest at its worst. A tenet of the Purple Faction that tacitly-influenced local law enforcement, and the regs mirrored it, whether consciously or not.

As he got closer, he could hear the teen saying how hungry he was in mock sarcasm.

“C’mon, Grammy, can’t you see I’m too skinny? A growing boy needs food, and you don’t need all of that…”

Gus passed them and opened his car door. He threw his bag into the front seat and looked amid the trash in the backseat for the tire iron he had left there from changing a tire recently. It had been raining, of course, so he hadn’t stowed everything back like he should. Still, Gus was a typical teenager, and papers, fast food cartons, and other trash covered the floor of the backseat.

The woman let out a yelp, which brought Gus out of his search. “Ok, man, that’s enough. Why don’t you leave the woman alone?” As he stood up, he saw the teen had grabbed one of the bags the woman was holding, and was attempting to wrench it out of her hands.

The woman cowered in fear, but still clung to the bag. Gus knew how much people on allotments needed the food. She probably was supporting people at home to have what seemed a larger than average allotment. Plus, it said something that she was out here alone getting the food, and not someone younger.

In an instant, the teenager was next to Gus. He could see the puckered red acne scars and greasy skin. “Did you just say something?” he asked, leaning in, right into Gus’ face. He was so close, his wet lip touched Gus’ own, which grossed him out on a whole new level.

Gus pushed the teen away, trying to establish a more comfortable personal space.

“Oh, so now you trying to push me, man? Gonna regret that…” Gus could see the kid’s friends start moving toward him in his peripheral vision. He also saw the old woman, pulling out of her parking spot, giving him a glance that said, “I’m sorry,” as she sped away. Gus tried to bolt for his car, really wishing he had found that tire iron, but the teen pushed him against his car and gave him a sucker punch.

Gus was winded as the blow hit him right in the