Cyborg - Emulating Life by Susann Greendragon (top inspirational books .TXT) 📖

towards him. The office was still empty with exception of a big meeting table and Ian's desk. Haskills classic-cut suit and the pin stripped west let him look today even more stiff and formal. "What is it, Haskill?", Ian asked.

 

"Well, Sir, you need to acknowledge the receipt of a delivery, which has arrived for you.", Haskill explained neutrally.

 

"Generally, you would do this kind of things. Lots of deliveries have arrived without my notice, I guess.", Ian replied perplex and eyed Haskill critically.

 

"Ah, I was not expressing myself correctly. I am sorry, Sir. It is a personal delivery to you, which I cannot sign and accept for you. Well, have a look." Haskill send the documents of the delivery from his data-glasses to Ian's screen.

 

Ian studied the sender address and frowned. The delivery was from a base of the Earth Defense Forces, from a -for him- unknown captain. "Could you see, what it was?", Ian asked before continuing to read as this was enigmatic.

 

"No, Sir. I could just see a relatively large 'box', if you allow me this simplistic term."

 

Ian started to read the pamphlet. Official texts annoyed him within seconds, which is why he directed this type of work to Haskill or to other staff. Pausing and closing his eyes in between, he read speedily through the text. It did not make sense to him. It was about an old contract, which belonged to this station and his family, the McAllister's. According to the rules of this contract, something belonged again to him now? Really, there were much more important things to do than thinking about old contracts and possessions. "Uhm, that is something for our lawyers. It is about an old contract I have never heard about.", Ian said tiered.

 

"Are you going to sign or do I have to report to them that you wish to cancel, Sir?", Haskill asked bustling.

 

"'Them'? There is someone in person here to deliver whatever it is?" Ian had lifted his left brow and had raised his voice due to his surprise.

 

"Well, at least a service grade has to do the delivery in person. But he does not appear to know what he delivers. Do you want to talk to him, Sir?"

 

"Yes, it is worth a try."

------

Half an hour later Ian and Haskill had not able to sort it out. The private could not help him. Or he was not allowed to say something, Ian thought. He sipped his coffee to banish the thoughts about this topic away, deciding to resume later this task. Once when there is enough time, he would have a look at the delivery and if there were still open questions, he could still call the captain. He had signed the form and decided to let it be stored on the lower levels. Haskill would inform him, when he had news to report on this topic - about the delivery and the old contract.

 

A fast blinking symbol for a call attracted his attention. "Yes, Ortis, what do you want to report?", Ian asked.

------

 

3 days later

Ian

 

The office doors opened silently and Haskill walked into McAlister's office with a small data pack under his arm. "Sir, an urgent issue has come up that you have to deal with."

 

Ian was standing in front of his desk, on which the transmission of the last video conference just closed. "Spit it out Haskill, you do not tend to talk around." Ian had just talked with Ortis about new personal and actually wanted to go to the 'bridge'. Technical issues on lower station levels had become too urgent to ignore and there he wanted to get an overview. The last three days, so many things had to be organized or he needed to help directly. These days not always enough manpower or material was at hand. Sitting down he was waiting for Haskill's explanations.

 

Haskill lowered his gaze and closed his eyes. "Sir, it is about your private delivery. It is a cryo-box. As it was not connected to the power system, it is thawing." Haskill was trying hard to let his voice sound apologetically. It was clear that it was mortifying him to miss that detail.

 

"Cryo-box? What the heck is in there?" Ian turned his chair facing Haskill blending down the screen. His brow creased as he had forgotten the delivery. Merde! What else did I forget the last days?, he asked himself. "Could you find out something about the delivery?, he forced his voices not to sound agitated.

 

"Yes, Sir. We could gather some information. It was not easy as most data files are sealed with a personal code and can only be opened by you in person. Well, due to the actual situation I had not yet the time to speak with you about the delivery. It was not as urgent as...", Haskill said in his most kind and apologetic voice and leaning forward into a bow.

 

"I know, what have you found?", Ian interrupted him impatiently but with controlled voice. Haskill was a perfectionist, but it would not help to get angry in this busy situation to miss something.

 

"Sir, you are now owner of a bio-mechanical life-form, a cyborg. Obviously, one of your ancestors thought it would be useful to invest into one of them, even so I have no idea for what reason." Haskill said with creased brows while he was stroking his perfectly trimmed beard.

 

Ian's face distorted painfully and he ran aghast with his right hand through his hair. Cyborg! Merde! What the hell! I do not need a thing like that right now. Ian felt irritated. Some of his business partners had cyborgs working for them. But it was unlikely that they had gotten their cyborgs from a 'military station' as private delivery. No, they had most likely the legal, civil-use beings. How are they called Eli.., Ali.., Aliom..., no AlimaH. No, this cyborg would not be one of those.

 

"That is not, what I anticipated.", Ian said exasperated, bridging the time to try and find a solution. He furrowed his brows. Staring at the panorama window without seeing, he drank another gulp of coffee. "Prepare its disposal; I have no idea what to do with it. This is a logistics center, a trade station not a war zone. I have more than enough security personal.", he decided and looked straight at Haskill satisfied with his thoughts. May be the sale will yield something. He relaxed and leaned at the backrest of his chair.

 

"I beg your pardon. Sir, that is not possible." Haskill took a step backward and held his hands up to appease Ian. He expected a fit of rage of his boss.

 

"WHAT?", Ian shouted out loud completely exasperated and jumped out of his chair.

 

"Sir,..." Haskill talked as appeasing as possible to Ian. "According to your lawyer it was listed in the contract that he cannot be resold." Haskill had opened the data files on his pad and waited if Ian wants to see it.

 

Ian started pacing up and down in front of his desk. "Then send it back at once! I have other things to care for then taking care about...", he desperately searched fitting words, "…something like that." He started drumming nervously with his fingers on his right hand. "...and try to get the stupid box connected to the stations power system. I am not very versed in cryo-tech or about this thing." He avoided using the word cyborg. He did not like them like most people after the 'epidemic' and now he owned one of them? Unbelievable.

 

"Yes, Sir. I will verify if that is possible. I would recommend that you inform your new medical scientists. They may have more information about the topic or what will be needed." Haskill suggested in neutral voice.

 

Ian studied Haskills apparent stoic facial expression and furrowed his brows again. He was trying to guide his thoughts into a new direction. After a moment he nodded slightly relieved. His scientists may be able to report new things... even so biomechanical creatures or their treatment and control is for sure not standard, he thought.

 

------

The message got stuck in Ian's mind and returned later in the evening. He tried to banish the memory out of his thoughts. Fruitless. He couldn't get rid of that nightmare night. He had been a kid. He had never truly forgotten the smell of burning furniture, the fire and the smoke. And also not the image which had haunted him long time after as a returning nightmare. A door, maybe it was even a gate and behind it the bright orange-red of fire and the black silhouette in front. He had seen clearly enough from his hideout the sharp edges of the cyborg armor and the missing hand. For him it had not been a human, even so he knew that it not so clear and had no evidence that he had truly seen a cyborg. In that night his family was just one of many who had lost relatives. They have not lost them due to the fire but caused by the civil-war-like situation in their quarter and everywhere else on the world. It was the simple problem of permanent net connections, a virus had turned the cyborgs into berserk monsters which attacked everything and everyone. Once he was older Ian had started reading as much as he could about the 'the epidemic' to cope with these events. Losing his parents had been horrible, but finding out that many families had to endure the same had kindled anger and hate for these creatures which couldn't be wiped away so easily. Cyborgs had proven themselves as too dangerous…

 

 

First patient of Dr. med Adrian Juilin

 

"Damned!", Juilin shouted out as a small stack of boxes with medical supply was tumbling to the floor. Dr. Juilin was a slender, 2 m tall 'giant' with black, short curly hair. His tan looked like a souvenir of a perfect holiday at the southern sea and let his white shirt shine. He hunkered down to pick up the boxes and to repack them on the workplace. A strange trill sound had surprised him during this monotone work of placing in boxes and instruments and it simply did not want to stop.

 

Dr. Rose, his colleague and competitor had started a few days ahead and had started with this tedious work of placing in the medical station. So far most rooms of the station still looked like a mess. The medical station was situated on level three and had apart from storage rooms, six examination rooms, two operating rooms and two, for Dr. Juilin strange, 'isolation rooms' behind smoky glass doors. Apart from that also a big room above the examination rooms belonged to the station and could be reached via stairs.

 

"Dakkie, what is this strange noise?", Juilin asked through the open doors of the small storage room into the small medical station. Putting the gel-pad boxes to their proper places, he entered the corridor. At both sides were the examination rooms behind glass fronts.

 

"I think, it comes from the room above.", Dakkie replied from the last examination room which had been prepared ready for use. "It is the ridiculous, old communication station. The service guy has not shown up yet." Dakkie, appointed to Dr. Rose, was a medical assistant and was still in training as doctor.

 

Juilin crossed the corridor, passing the strange smoky glass doors and walked upstairs. Light flipped on automatically and he could see more move-in chaos. The plan was to build a mixture of office and laboratory. At the moment it looked like a storage room missing logistical planning: racks, machines in boxes, half unpacked things and lots of packing material and a desk with a not working screen. But the eerie sound was coming from an old communication station next to the door. Thus Juilin turned and pressed the accept button.

 

"Dr. Juilin. How can I help you?", he asked studying the tiny screen with grey noise. He sighed as he could not see his caller. Haskills voice rang out but it sounded distorted and