Ghost in the Machine Ch. 16

Heart pounding in my throat, I flipped through a couple other patient records and very soon a pattern emerged. Except for the really radical jobs like that paramilitary cyborg conversion I've seen decompose earlier, every customer left Dr. Winter's Kybernetik-Klinik with more than they actually had ordered. There were a lot of people who came for face restructuring or fuck implants, and many of them left with body recorders, storage and remote wireless access.

How could Winter afford it? I mean, even the most basic set of cyber eyes was a four-figure investment, anything actually in the brain went up the price range very fast, and he was giving out these recorders and memory chips like freaking candy.

I opened up the "Procurement" directory. I knew from Fleischer that a shadow doc couldn't afford to be picky when it came to procuring supplies, but the more I read about Winter's operation, the sicker I got. He recycled. Most professional soldiers nowadays at least had recorders, transceivers and memory, along with GPS and health monitors, so that the generals in their bunkers could shove them around like troops in a strategy game, always fully connected through their eyes and ears. Military trials suddenly became much easier when the judges could simply pull from the data banks inside a soldier's head. And the news was full of wars. Winter bought heads by the containerful, a dime a dozen, and had them scraped out for any useful hardware. The only thing which had to be replaced after the brain tissue was removed were the connectors where metal and meat met, a piece of medicinal plastic worth a few cents.

So, I didn't just get the economy line jack I asked for. I had some dead soldier's military-spec hardware inside my head. But why?

The "Misc." folder came next. It contained hundreds of Petabytes worth of data. Of course. If you record the body's whole signal spectrum for any length of time, you'd end up with a metric fuckton of data.

The file name read: "Cassie Berger, Checkup Mar. 12" I activated it and the audiovisual component appeared on the screen. A woman's belly button, with a swirling neon tattoo surrounding it. The view went lower, showing a completely shaved mound and moist pussy lips. Slender fingers, a woman's, and going by the angle, the viewer's, parted them. The sounds of passionate oral came through tinny speakers in the Samsung's case.

Six more files, and all showed the same. Doctor Winter had built a cozy library of full-body records of people having sex. When he was plugged into the deck, he could experience everything the protagonist had seen, heard, tasted, smelled and touched, and would feel every touch on his skin. And his clients never knew he would download their most private memories under the pretense of checking up on their cyberware.

There was a folder tucked inside the "Misc." directory which read "Winter". Dreading what I might find, I pulled up the first of many, many files. This time, there was no sex. Just a first-person view of somebody doing surgery. I wondered what that was all about until I remembered what kind of data this was. The playback only featured audio and visuals, the only senses a 2D screen could reproduce, but with a little fiddling, I found a visualizer showing the other nerve tracks. The good doctor recorded himself operating, and his arousal levels were through the bloody roof. He got off on himself getting off cutting up people. Or in short: God complex.

I shot a sidelong glance at the reporter. He had been on to something, sure as fuck. If this story would have hit the airwaves, the good doctor could have kissed his ass... and head... goodbye. I'm pretty certain his clientele wouldn't be too thrilled knowing he could download their past experiences.

But what had fried Mr. Wagner's brain? The log files were pretty clear on that too. After he had sifted through Winter's dirty laundry, he had opened a poorly secured connection to his own machine and something, leaving behind an energy spike like the fucking Mount Everest, had caught him with his head out of the window, so to speak. Either Cat or Nero, and -- again looking at him -- I wondered who would be worse.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later I was back in the office, this time with one of the proprietary tools which would allow me to unplug the diagnostic dongle from my jack. Doing the unscrewing myself was a bit of a chore, thanks to the positioning of the jack, but eventually I had the dongle loose. Removing it would reboot the headware, disengage any software inhibitors and transfer the status readout into my field of view.

I drummed my fingers onto the desk, the anxiety was killing me. Then, I noticed the lettering in the corner of my eye.

"Integration incomplete. Estimated time remaining: 3d16h21m11s."

So much for that.

The seconds ticked down, but the fact remained. My new implant was useless for now. I didn't have three days. Heck, I had no clue how bad things were outside, although my imagination, helped along by the stuttering gunfire and forlornly wailing sirens in the distance, painted a grim picture. The 'net was going to hell, everything hooked up to it was either used by Cat or Nero to amplify themselves and those AIs were so intent on tearing themselves to pieces, little things like humanity simply didn't matter. And then basic human nature would kick in. Survival of the fittest, kill or be killed, all the happy little tenets we carried around since the fucking Stone Age. I was alone, had only the shock rod and no way to call either Parker or Fleischer or Frau Schmidt or anybody. The phones they had here were high-tech devices with integrated answering machine and wireless handsets. Even if their batteries weren't flat by now, the docking stations needed juice to receive the signal.

The only way for me to get a message out was the deck in front of me. I just needed to send three emails, but using the buttons on the deck's back would take like hours. So...

I unzipped my go bag. Hidden inside, under a few threadbare towels, I had a certain plastic box. With one hand I pulled it free, with the other I located the subdermal button to release my right cyber eye from it's socket. Swapping the working eye for the shell with the Mindlink jack in it was a matter of seconds.

"This system was never designed for this kind of stress!" Fleischer had said when I came to him after my vision had gone. Too much strain on the nerves. "I had intended it as a cheap alternative for Mindlink implants, to run low-powered school decks or to use data chips and stuff!"

Well, I didn't intend to go to war this time, I just wanted to send out a few calls for help. My optical nerve would take that, right? Especially when I would hurry the fuck up. I had no intention of taking part in the Braining II: Electric Boogaloo. Only thing I needed were my contact files. Lucky for me, I had the chip with them right here.

The chip slot was right next to the control panel and the good doctor had a fresh Mindlink cable in the top drawer of his desk, expensive platinum wire and diamond-studded jack guards. One end went into the deck, the other into my eye. One last deep breath and I flicked the power on.

* * * *

The darkness surrounding me took forever to lift.

"Software upgrade complete. Do you want to read the update log?" The voice was smooth, male and vaguely familiar. I sat up with the clink of metal on stone and opened my eyes. I was in an octagonal room made from marble and I wasn't alone. Dressed in a yellow full-body one-piece suit straight out of "Enter The Dragon" or "Tekken", depending on who you ask, stood Forrest. He was one of Cat's sidekicks, a toned Bruce-Lee-lookalike.

"Ni hao, Shine," he said, beaming widely. "It's been a very long time."

"What are you doing here? And what is this?" I swiped my hand, chromed angel flesh, around.

"I took the liberty of uploading the software image you took from your old deck into this new one. It never hurts to be prepared." Grinning, he leaned in and sucked my nipple. I nearly fainted. Totally slipped my mind how much stronger every little sensation was in cyberspace, especially running on such a hi-spec deck.

"Don't," I chided him. "Things are not too well outside and I really don't-"

His mouth closed around my other nipple and one of his hands squeezed my chrome bum, cutting off any protest of mine. He let up on my breast and licked up my neck, leaving me breathless. His lips met mine. I bit down on his tongue which tried to wriggle between my lips. Not hard, I didn't want to hurt him after all, but hard enough to get his attention.

"But I want you," he panted. "See?" His hand took mine, and before I could complain, my fingers had been wrapped around his respectable dick, all hard and throbbing.

"Listen, I need to get in touch with Parker."

"Can't that wait a little?" His pout was adorable, and I couldn't deny that I was feeling a little frisky myself. I knew I shouldn't. After all, my flesh body was a sitting duck outside. Granted I had crawled under the desk and all, but a determined-

Forest had pushed his glans against my lips. Fuck it. Once he was done, I still could get a message to Parker and a pacified semi-AI was much more useful than this horn dog right now. I parted my lips and invited him in. His shaft slid into my mouth and every bump and vein under his soft skin tickled my hyper-sensitive tongue most exquisitely. I slid two of my chrome fingers between my labia, amazed at how wet I had become in just a few nanoseconds. The cool yet soft fingertips played with my engorged clit, sending shivers of pure electricity through my body.

"Allow me," Forrest whispered, pulling out of my mouth. He gently pushed against my shoulders, urging me to lay flat on the octagonal platform. I humored him and grinned as he climbed on top of me, his knees to either side of my head and his hot rod pointing straight at my mouth. He arched his back and his hot breath caressed the moist skin between my thighs, driving me crazy. But his breath was nothing compared to the soft sensation of his tongue circling my clit. Or his mouth going full CPR on my pussy. I arched my hips off the dais, pressing my pussy into his face while I deep-throated him. His self-control was amazing. Instead of fucking my mouth like a mad rabbit, his thrusts were slow and deep and, thanks to us being digital at the moment, I didn't choke or ran out of air. My hands grabbed his rock-hard ass, more for support than for kneading, and I sucked at him as if my life depended on it. He moaned, a strangely adorable, effeminate sound as he picked up speed, his tongue a blur on and in me, going from my clit to my opening and back again. His whimpering intensified, and without any due warning, he exploded in my mouth, pouring hot, digital jizz down my throat. Then his lips closed around my clit and he sucked, hard, driving me over the edge. For a moment, my whole body locked up then I melted onto the dais, utterly spent.

Forrest rolled off me, his wet schlong pointing straight away from his crotch.

"More?" he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

"Heck no." Laughter burst from my chest. "At least not now. Sorry, cookie."

"Cookie?" Forrest cocked an eyebrow at me then, as if on command, his cock deflated and the yellow bodysuit reformed.

"Didn't Cat teach you about terms of endearment?" I stretched, then sat up. I was damn certain my meat body would experience splitting headaches... more splitting headaches after that virtual cum, but right now, I was fine. More than that. Ecstatic?

"Okay, cookie," I said, patting Forrest on his fantastic ass. "Get me Parker's e-mail address. And something to write, please."

He bowed low and ducked from the room. I rebooted my avatar, to get the last remains of cum off my taste buds, then I joined him in deckspace proper. It was a clone of my deck at home, complete with the Ceiss files Cat had given me at our first meeting on the altar. Forrest appeared by my side, his face a mask of worry.

"The e-mail protocols aren't working. But I know that Parker is online right now. Hibiko is with him."

"I've never heard of e-mail not working. Isn't that one of the foundations of the 'net?"

"The diagnostic readings coming back from my pings are ...wrong," was all he said, sadly shaking his head. "Can't compute."

"How long until we could meet Parker?"

"Just a few moments of inter-node travel. He is here, in the Berlin cluster."

I might go permanently blind if I entered the 'net using my eye jack. I might even damage my brain. But what were the choices? Running aimlessly and alone through Berlin, Apocalypse edition would get me killed with a 100% probability.

"Can you cover me?"

"I can execute any program coupled with my avatar."

"Good enough. Let's suit up."

* * * *

I couldn't help but grin like a maniac. Forrest, with his black stealth suit and several guns strapped to his lean frame, looked even more ridiculous than my chrome angel self. I had velcro bands wrapped around each limb, each holding several capsules with one-shot programs. My ample breasts and taut stomach were covered with overlapping, matte black reactive armor panels and the exquisite classical lines of my face were hidden under a winged full-visor Kevlar helmet. Nobody should say Shine doesn't learn and my nearly fatal encounter with a Ceiss security admin was still neon-bright in my short-term memory. I had my flaming sword with me and there were glowing gems embedded in the palms of my hands, ready to fry any idiot who came too close with deadly fury.

I also made sure to disable any kind of background process not necessary for the operation of the deck or my battle programs. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to fight at all. Already I was worrying what kind of damage my optical nerves were sustaining, just by being hooked up to the deck. Or what my little stunt with Forrest earlier had done to me.

"We should go," Forrest said, tugging my focus back to the here and now. "I'm reading unsettling energy fluctuations near Parker's position."

Wordlessly, I pulled the cathedral gates open and leaped into the swirling void, Forrest hot on my heels. While we were connecting to the closest node, he sent me the nav data I needed to find Parker. We were really, really close, no more than a few seconds apart. The Berlin cluster sprawled out below us, but I hardly recognized it. The last time I was here, Berlin was a carefully sculpted wonderland of dark glass, tall spires and carefully arranged neon cascades pouring down the outer shells of every big node, but now it looked like a wasteland after a thermonuclear disaster. Or rather as if some kind of massive tentacle monster had passed through. Thick, pulsing tubes connected each of the nodes and every tube seemed to either originate or end back at the cracked and bent ruin of Ceiss Tower.

"What... what is all this?"

"I wish I could tell you," Forrest said, sadly shaking his head. "There is nothing even remotely comparable in my database."

"Where is Parker?"

Forrest pointed. Ceiss Tower. And as I watched, wondering what Parker had gotten himself into, a huge swarm of red and black ...somethings descended upon the tower, bathing its tip in a brainmelting cascade of red and black lightning strikes. Common sense told me to brake, turn around and log out. Whatever was happening there, it wasn't healthy. Not for Parker and especially not for me.

Fuck common sense. Parker was in there and he could very much use my help. The shockwaves of violently exploding programs were noticeable even here, far away from the battle, and he was in the thick of it. I grabbed Forrest's arm and rerouted even more processing power into my motive programs. Within moments, we were much closer.

The attackers were cuneiform attack drones, each delta wing adorned by a stylized red slash of lightning. Or a stylized "N." They arced and dove through the gaping holes blasted into the firewalls of Ceiss Tower, laying down a frightening barrage of fire. I was about to ask Forrest if he was sure about Parker when a dark shape streaked out from behind a wall, a superhuman leap taking it onto the back of a drone. In a flash of cold blue, a neon katana sliced down, bisecting the attack drone. It careened off-course and shattered against the side of the tower. The shadow had moved on, leaping from drone to drone in a mad rush of speed and a flurry of slices, taking out five... eight... eleven drones in quick succession before it came to rest on the jagged remains of a black steel girder jutting like a splintered bone from the node.

I howled in pain as two drones fired at me. Not only did the pain arc through my virtual body, but I felt it as a fierce stab behind my eyes. That had to be my meat body telling me how much it hurt. Snarling in anger, I flapped my flame wings twice to gain some altitude and rained fiery death upon them. Two beams, two solid hits melting neat round holes with glowing edges through their carapaces.

"Forrest, attack!" I screamed, pointing in the general direction of the whirling mass of attack drones. From somewhere below me, a dozen smoke trails curled up into the sky, each one the tell-tale sign of a small but potent homing program. Unerringly they found their targets, blasting off wings and cracking fuselages. What they didn't destroy, I liquefied with my fireblasts, all the while dodging their return fire and not quite succeeding. That was an entire new level of cyber warfare, a far cry even from those several dozen security programs I faced when I first snuck into Ceiss' systems. Eventually, after taking out what felt like dozens of drones, I couldn't take it any more. Whimpering softly, I ducked behind a pile of rubble and ran a diagnostic utility. My avatar was surprisingly well off, only about 15% of combat efficiency lost, but my head felt like it was being split open with a chainsaw.

"Shine."

Even looking up, taking in the strobing flashes of light zigzagging overhead hurt. Parker loomed over me, his armored kabuto helmet under one arm. When had he transformed into a cyberspace war god?

"I'm running your deck, that helps a lot. But what are you doing here? You should be resting in bed!"

Laughing hurt too. "When was the last time you've looked outside, Parker? Berlin has gone dark! There's no one in the clinic apart from a comatose reporter and some dead 'borgs! You're the reason I'm here. I needed to find you, to let you know where I was." I hated how small I sounded, how afraid, how weak.

"I'm trying to keep Berlin in one piece, Shine. Cat is back and she's fighting Nero, but even she can't be everywhere at once."

"You, all by yourself?"

"No, not quite." He pointed. Through a tear in the wall I could see it, a blazing white-and-pink mech suit, with graceful, angular neon wings flared out, tore through another approaching drone swarm, firing searing laser blasts from wrist-mounted cannons and a hail of missile spam from dual six-pack launchers molded into its shapely, feminine hips.

"Hibiko is running my old deck and she's a quick learner."

"And that's it? Just you and Cat's sex toy?"

"Violet is running interference on the US west coast. She said she'd try to persuade what's left of Mindlink's 'net jockeys to help out too. We're building an army, Shine. Nero doesn't know it yet, but he's running out of room. Cat should be in Seoul by-" Parker stopped in mid-sentence, surprise etched onto his avatar's handsome, rugged face.

"Finally some good news," a silky smooth voice purred. The battle noise had died down. Quickly, I scanned around. Nothing moved. Even the smoke trails of destroyed attack drones were static. With an ominous red portal shrinking behind them, a quintet of identical figures strode through the air, the tails of their trenchcoats trailing behind them like thunderclouds. No, not quite identical. Each one was a little different from the others, some minor detail like a different lightning or flame pattern on the coat, subtle differences in the way they had their hair, one even sported a five-o-clock shadow.