Out Of The Night That Covers Me

“Out of the Night That Covers Me” By Shantih3x

When I was in my college days I figured that most people would not need a person who took an interest in engineering nanobots. Many still believed the gray goo theory held in the realms of science fiction and wonder if it could happen. Now, I gave explanations left and right through my thesis papers and knew that there was a sliver of a chance to be viewed in a positive light; maybe then I could be known for my work and ethic in the field. My assumptions had taken a complete one-eighty thirty-fiveyears ago. A crisp envelope came in the mail during my last year of college. There was no return address and I opened it in a fashion that would be considered awkward. It was simple and to the point: I was one of the many people who were accepted to work as an intern for a project. One of the many ideas I vouched for was the procedure to replace the nerves of the disabled with nanorobotics. It was apparent that I had influenced some influential figures in the government. If I wanted to work on my dream, then I would have to go the place that was specified on the letter. I was currently riding an automatic bullet train to who knew where. There were no windows; however, it was aesthetically pleasing that it was helping Lucas –I learn of his name later- who wasbeside me. He told me when we were entering the car that he had motion sickness. The lack of scenery helped him greatly but it made me worry. We were needed for something; yet, we did not know why we were needed or where we were going. No one knew that the train stopped until the door we entered opened once more. The man, other scientist who were riding in the train’s sleek cars and I were greeted to a scene similar to a subway station. Many were dressed in businesscausal clothing with the expectation of being interviewed. I simply followed what we were told to do if we received a job proposal and interview. Everyone was uncomfortable from the scene and the lack of a person who was to introduce us to the place. It was apparent that some of our group was starting to have a panic attack and this was when we were introduced to our guide.

“Hello and welcome,”a voice echoed throughout the terminal. It spoke in an androgynous tone; a bit of the metallic sound was a proof that it was not human. “Please forgive us for not giving you an idea of where you are currently. It is a safety precaution that is taken for the protection of this facility.” A few were pondering about where the voice was coming from while others were waiting for instructions. Blue, luminescent arrows appeared on the floor. “Please follow the arrows to your destination,” the voice ordered calmly. The group of scientist followed the glowing arrows. When they entered the first door they realized that the place looked more like a research facility and the room before is the entrance. A few even realized why they rode on a bullet train with no windows. They were greeted by a man in a lab coatwith brown hair starting to gray. He looked down and wiped his glasses before looking upward and started to speak. “Welcome to the Mariposa Research Facility of DARPA,” he said, “My name is Dr. Winston Ferris and I amthe head scientist for this facility. The person you heard on the speakers is the AI Mariposa.” His constant fidgeting suggested that he was not the social type. “All I have to say to you is that you need to be checked for good physical and mental health. Other than that, I think that felicitationsshould suffice.” He turned around and started to walk away from the group. “What do you mean felicitations?” the one with auburn hair shouted; his accent identified him as British. Doctor Ferris stopped and turned around. “You’ll learn after the examinations,” he replied before leaving to his own devices. “I have never been poked and prodded so much,” the one with motion sickness stated. He was running his hand through short, copper-colored hair.“And the picture they showed us.” The dark-haired manhe was talking looked pallid. What sort of projects were they working on to require to become desensitized by such sites? Those pictures would not help with the smell they would encounter sooner or later. “And I though I had it bad with motion sickness.” “It’s just,” he replied, “I have not seen those sorts of pictures in my life. They were pictures of mutilated people. Why would they show them to us?” His hazel eyes showed worry. “I wouldn’t be shocked if they are the people we’ll be helping,” he replied, “Some of them could look like they’re vegetables but others look like they are in agonizing pain.” They continued to walk before they reached their quarters. Two names were apparent: Joshua Terrance and Lucas Fichte. Hazel stared into green before one broke the silence. “So your name is Joshua.” “And you are Lucas.” “What did you do to get your golden ticket?” Lucas asked. “I must have made a big stink about the positive uses and arguments for the use of nanorobotics,” Joshua replied before opening the door. The room was

painted in neutral colors. There was a dresser, a bunk bed set, and a telephone. Two other doors other than the one they came in lead to different areas: One lead to a small closet with clothing and the other lead to a bathroom already filled with toiletries. “Well,” Lucas said. He was already lying down on the bottom bunk. “What do they need with someone who is majoring in nanomachinery and a reconstructive surgeon? I’m not sure about the rest of the group that came with us.” Joshua was about to climb onto the top bunk when the phone started to ring. He sighed, climbed down, and walked over the phone and picked it up. “Hello.” “There is a map in the first drawer of the dresser. Open it. The areas in blue are the areas you’re allowed, the green areas require permission from a senior official, and the red are restricted.” He recognized the voice. It was Mariposa. “The only available numbers on the map are for the blue and green. Any other questions?” “Where’s the cafeteria?” Lucas asked, “I haven’t eaten since this morning.” The first couple of weeks were quiet. The current staff of Mariposa helped me, Lucas, and the others with protocols and safety measures. Their labs were state-of-the-art, same with equipment. There were many projects but a certain one caught my eye. It was dealing with nanobots that used electrical current to make objects. Certain amounts of energy changed the shape, the color, the sharpness… It always made me shudder when I seen it. However, it was the second week where there was a bit of trouble… “Alright,” Dr. Ferris said. He was wiping his glasses with the lab coat. Joshua, Lucas, and a couple others were in the lab. “Today is the day where you will start to work on your own. Some of the things you will be doing are hard, others will have it easier. It is the day where you will get individual duties and will be watched by a senior scientist. Let’s see what you can make.” The new recruits went to their individual areas and started to ponder on new ideas. Joshua was sitting in his area. Some of the equipment he knew from his classes in college while others he had never encountered. They told him and the others to think of solutions on how to fix the people in the picture. Joshua was thinking about how to replace damaged nerves with nanites. How much would it take? What materials would be needed? How unnoticeable would it be? He pondered on these problems before writing them down on a piece of paper for later ideas. “Nanomachinery isn’t noticeable until it is seen in large quantities. Depending on how much is used would show how much is noticeable. Things such as weight change, lower resistance to electricity, detection by magnetic scanners are problem for those who would use it for combative purposes. Stealth-based nanites should be made from carbon to avoid detection; however, if someone notices that the amount of carbon on said thing is greater than the amount

specified would lead to capture. Electromagnetic pulses would effect and shut down the nanites “Certain nanites could be used to fix an injury or create temporary tissue that could seal wounds until they get to a proper area. Other types could deconstruct the human body into the basic elements or could become stealth weapon. If anything, I would rather this to be used to create, not to destroy.” He had the how, but not the why. He understood the joke that DARPA was made of one hundred geniuses and they were always looking for more; but why did they need 50 more for things in subjects that were considered shaky in ethical circles? Why were they needed? “Project Johnny is in its first phase, sir,” Dr. Ferris stated. He was standing in front of a mid-sized screen that showed a gray-haired Hispanic in general’s clothing. “What’s wrong, General.” The general kept a stern face. “I had to tell them that he died,” the General replied, “They did not take the news well. I told him that his body was cremated due to protocol and they requested that we give them his ashes.” Doctor Ferris had a sour look on his face when he mentioned that the family wanted their son’s remains. “Well, give the order to burn another body,” he said, “They won’t know the difference between the son’s cremation ashes and a cremated stranger’s ashes. As long as they think he is dead, then we will be able to continue on Johnny.” It was apparent that he did not like people to mess with his research. He took a couple breaths to calm himself down. Gray-colored eyes kept to the floor before looking up at the screen once more. “You know that we have to wait until he is cleared to be shipped back to the states,” the General stated, “Johnny is still in critical but the doctors ran test and they showed that the man is conscious.” “Conscious, you say?” the scientist said with a little worry, “You mean that he isn’t brain dead?” This was an interesting change of plans even for the doctor. The General sighed. “Yes, he is still conscious but there is no way to talk to the man until the project is finished. This may give some trouble to... What was his name again?” “Doren Gray,” Ferris replied, “One of our top AI programmers. It’s apparent that he has taken a disliking to the new psychologist, Dr. Ashleigh Dawson.” “A female colleague?” Even to the General, Ashley and their alterations were considered female names. He only remembered Doren because he did not hold his female co-workers in high regards. “Actually, this one is a male and he is British-born American.” Ferris continued to fidget. “Although it is his field, he did not understand why it was a felicitation.” “Can you say anything in simple means, Dr. Ferris? Congratulations would have been fine.”

“Well, he won’t understand that this would be the thing that will get us out of the stalemate,” Ferris replied, “The same can be said with the dream of bringing back the nearest thing to a dead man on earth.” Joshua lay awake on the top bunk. Lucas’snoring has made sleeping a task of sorts. He could no have ear plugs and the snoring monster below could not remember such things to help him sleep quietly. He thought about how his college buddies and family would be bothered that he has not spoken to them for three months. Three months without contact to the outside world. Three months of being an intern at Mariposa. Three months of theorizing, working, understanding, and attempting his ideas. The tan that Joshua had three months ago was waning; there were the signs of bags forming under his eyes from lack of sleep. He remembered how Dr. Ferris looked: wan, sleep-deprived, and a caffeine addict. He also wonders how important this work to the man was. It was as if it has consumed all of time in his life for other things. Does his family worry for his well-being or has he forsaken them? Joshua shrugged. Why was he thinking about the well-being of an obsessive doctor? He fell asleep from the fatigue of staying awake. “Heya sport,” man in his late fifties greeted Joshua, “It’s been a long time since you came to visit.” Joshua huffed before giving the old man a hug. It was nice to being in a place with color for once. He had forgotten how tacky the house was with the odd patterns and CDs that lay all over the place. Maybe Mariposa gave him an appreciation for the discord called home. “It’s nice to be home, old man,” he replied. “Now, Joshua,” a feminine voice shouted, “That is not the way you treat your father, young man.” “Hello to you, too,” Joshua responded. A woman with iron gray hair walked from the kitchen. She did not have as many wrinkles as her husband. “That’s mother to you,” she stated before giving him a hug. She gave a quick glance at her son. “You’re pale and you look like you haven’t had any sleep in a while.” Joshua sighed. “The person bunking with me snores,” he said, “And you two know that I can’t sleep with noise in the room.” “It never stopped you from sleeping through an alarm clock,” his father added in dryly. They walked to the kitchen and sat town on the chairs around the table. There was an awkward silence until… “So, how are you doing in college?” his father asked. He retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lighter, and put the pack from where it came. “I got an internship,” Joshua replied, “The people who are running the place will pay for college and the loans.” He grimaced when his father started to cough after took a puff from the lit cigarette. “Didn’t the doctor tell you to quit smoking or else your bronchitis would become worse?”

“The day I quit smoking is the day pigs fly and hell freezes over,” his father said after his coughing fit, “Also, I don’t think your mother would want to deal with me without my nicotine.” His mother laughed softly. She was not without illness or addiction either. “And the day he quits smoking is the day I quit taking Valium,” she added. This brought Joshua in a melancholic mood. Both of his parents were addicted to a drug whether it is found in something bought over the counter or required by a psychiatrist to obtain. Too many people he knew were addicted to a drug or an activity. Their wants overcame their needs and they were either living in poor houses or correctional facilities or taking a permanent dirt nap. “So, how is Shelly?” Joshua asked. “They’re still giving her hell over the twins,” his mother replied, “She doesn’t want to give up either but they’re forcingher to choose one or the other.” She got up and pulled out three cans of soda which were put on the table. Even in 2065 they still make Coca-Cola. “Well, your sister will have hell if she doesn’t choose,” his father said, “They’re getting antsy about people having more than three children. They said it won’t be good for rationing.” “Could you raise one of the twins yourself?” Joshua asked before sipping on the open can of soda. His grandparents told stories about how they put small amounts of cocaine into their drinks. Some do it now to gain increases of revenue against their competitors. “Do you think that we are suitable parents?” his father retorted, “You’ve told us many times that we weren’t good parents.” “And look how I came out to be,” Joshua replied jokingly, “I’m the first person to graduate from high school in three generations. Hell, I’ll be the first one in the family to have a college degree and a decent paying job.” “Well,” his father replied caustically, “We either had to starve and sleep in the cold or go to school for what: a degree that cannot account for anything anymore?” A bang was heard on the table. “Stop it you two!” his mother said angrily, “No fighting in the house. It’s already hard enough to fix the things you two have broken during your arguments.” The two realized that the situation would have gone into critical when the old woman lost her temper. Neither one wanted to deal with that situation so they calmed down. “So, what did you do for most of your vacation?” Lucas asked Joshua. They were in the presentation room in Mariposa. “Visited family, tanned again,” Lucas said, “Got some sleep in a quiet room.” “Hey!” “Sorry, but your snoring makes it hard to sleep,” Joshua stated dryly. “Well, I can’t perform surgery on myself,” his friend retorted. Ashleigh turned around in his chair.

“Would you two fruitbats can the chatter?” he said, “The presentation is about to start!” The two stopped and the rest of the room became silent. Doctor Ferris walked in and continued to walk until he reached the podium where he came to a sudden stop. He was fidgeting noticeably from nervousness. “Welcome back,” he said, “I noticed that some of you did not come back. I see a few empty seats. Oh well, we’ll be able to fill them up soon.” Some had looks of concern on their faces. “Anyways, would you like to know why we showed you those pictures four months ago?” The pictures still haunted Joshua. He had a few nightmares that interrupted his wet dreams from the last month. “You have been accepted to work on a specific project with the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. This project requires people of all sorts of fields to make it work. Ladies and gentlemen, have you ever read the book Johnny Got His Gun?” There was evident murmurs that were either no or what was it about. Doctor Ferris shook his head in disappointment. The pictures from four months back appeared on the projector. The audible sound of retching was heard in the back but Ferris continued with his speech. “Well, the main goal of this project is to bring back the nearest thing to a dead man on earth. He has no limbs and as far as we know, he has no senses; however, this man is alive and conscious. We have to bring him back as quick as possible or he would become a vegetable. This does not mean, however, we cause him to become a vegetable.” He started to pace left to right on the stage. “Itwould be considered a failure in all of our books. Don’t fret about it being on your resumes, though; this project is considered classified.” Joshua looked to the person to his right. The man’s face was contorted with disappointment as if he was expecting to work on something that was brain dead. The ragged, light brown hair was a tell-tale sign that the man was more interested in his work. He then started to pay attention to the front once again. “We brought you here because you have theories that could or can work, procedures that can fix him, or ideas on how he should react when he’s in isolation or comes back. Figure these problems out and many can have normal lives thanks to your experimentation and research.” Doctor Ferris took a deep breath and sighed heavily in the silence. The project may be longer in certain areas and could cause an isolated man to become more psychotic. This was what they wanted us to work on. They wanted us to bring back an unidentified, and possibly unstable, man from the isolation that was caused by a common occurrence on the battlefield. I felt pity on the poor soul that was confined to an earthly hell. My old man said that the only thing that should be done to someone like that was to put him out of his misery. No one should live like that; it was cruel and demented. Yet I wonder about all those years why Doren, the man who sat by me during that presentation was angry about keeping the man with full brain functions.

“We all wonder about how this man’s state of mind will be when he finally awakes,” Ashleigh started, “It is assured that he will not be like the man he was before his accident. It is more assured that the process of bringing him back needs to be slow or else he would go into psychosis. Certain senses would be brought back by the reconstructive work on his face while others would alert him to certain changes that have happened to him. This, however, does not mean that we don’t have to anesthetize the man before these surgeries.” It has been two years and six months since this extensive project has started. Most of the people who were there when it started were already gone. Doctor Ferris came and go as he pleased only to come when he was to either accept or deny the ideas or test results. Certain parts of the project have been complete. Other parts were being experimented, analyzed, and/or recorded. They had to remove some of Johnny’s healthy epidermis to createenough adult stem cells to use to recreate the parts that were able to be replaced. The identifiable scars from his unfortunate even were slowly being replaced with healthy, unmarred skin. This reconstruction was being worked on by Dr. Fitche. Other things were taking longer to fix or replace. There were multiple surgeries to alter his spinal cord so it could accept its nanomechanical replacement. These have yet to be perfectedalong with the new replacements with his lost limbs and organs. Some were arguing about what color his eye should be. “Well, what would happen if your mentally broken patient doesn’t want to be woken up?” Doren asked caustically, “Then he would be considered a useless puppet.” The programmer and the psychologist have had their skirmishes over the years but they kept to themselves. Ashleigh held a dual job: He speculated on Johnny’s mental health and kept a close eye on the mental health of his co-workers. Doren, however, was working on the programming for how the prosthetic parts would work; a part of his work was linked to Joshua’s. “It would take months for him to realize that this is not a hallucination,” the auburn Brit replied, “At the same time, he would be learning how to get used his new, and possibly stronger, parts.” “Well, you cannot wait forever for an inferior operating system to learn how to work the parts. The big guys up top are iffy when it comes to winning. You know, they have a stereotype to keep up.” People were slowly starting to back away from the two. Something instinctually gave them the feeling that this was going to become messy. “Well, if they are the types that can’t rely on their gut feeling,” Ashleigh stated, “Then it means they rely on statistics, probability, and odds to get them through a war.” He started to walk away so he could calm down. However, it did not mean that he would not keep quite as he muttered something that only Doren picked up. The responsefrom him was violent: he ran, wrapped his dangly arm around the Brit’s throat, and started to strangulate him. “We’re not fucking cowards, you damnable piece of English garbage!” he said. Ashleigh was struggling to get himself out of the chokehold. “You have no right to say that! You copped out on us a few decades ago for what? To keep your

spot on the UN?!” One of the security guards started to remove the angry man but Doren’s grip was steady. “I’m British-born American, you moron!” Ashleigh wheezed. It took a tranquilizer shot to make him let go. The auburn Brit was already unconscious from the lack of air. Both were being carried to the hospital ward of Mariposa to be restrained. “How many fights have you two been in since this project started?” Dr. Ferris asked coldly. His gray eyes were glaring at the programmer and then the psychologist. Ashleigh and Doren were sitting in chairs on opposite sides of the room. Both were restrained and there was a noticeable red mark around the auburn Brit’s throat. “He tried to strangle me because I murmured a comment under my breath,” he replied, “Although, I did not want to continue with the fight with our Narcissistic friend.” “So he makes a comment about how our country has gone to the dogs and has become worse than the people we had fought.” Ferris looked at Doren, then Ashleigh, critically. “Is it true Dr. Dawson?” the fidgeting doctor asked, “Did you make that comment?” “Yes,” he replied calmly, “I did make that comment out of anger, but Doren could not let the argument go.” “What were you debating that turned into an assault?” Dr. Ferris asked. “Whether we have to spend time and money recuperating someone who has not seen the world in years or to replace his mind with an AI if he goesinto a blank slate is not the problem. Sure, the emotions need to be worked on but we’re aiming for efficiency. Recuperation our veggie to full normalcy mode is going to make him a sitting duck for the people we are fighting,” Doren responded. “Since you seem to be the individual who is complaining about why we want him to keep his conscious,” Ashleigh started, “And it is apparent that you’ve read books and played in role plays from things made by our great-great-grandparents, then you would know about the consequences of replacing the human conscious with an AI.” “We wouldn’t be having this problem if he was casters mode up.” It was apparent that Dr. Ferris was pleased with the two arguing. However… “Mr. Gray,” he interrupted, “We would be having more problems if he was deceased. Our resources of bodies may be great, but we are not aiming to truly reanimate the dead. We are aiming to bring him back from the complete isolation alive and well. Sure, we could revitalize everything, but how do we bring back the brain? He would be on the level of Frankenstein and DARPA wants a fully functional and thinking person. “You want to replace his conscious with an AI. There are several theoretical problems: We would have to deal with someone who could be a ticking time bomb ofinstability. He would be terminated because he would be suffering from

cyberpsychosis. I’m not making the ground for creating Armitage, I’m here to bring Johnny from the closest thing to death.” Doren’s appalled face was evident while Ashleigh’s face showed stoic content from the support of the head of Project Johnny. “You two will go under psychoanalysis in a couple days to see if you are fit to stay on Mariposa or should transfer;” the doctor said calmly, “Your squabbling has caused more trouble and delay for this project.” “It’s amazing,” Lucas said while looking at the pictures, “You cannot even identify him as a man who was injured in a war.” He was currently looking on the portable screen with Johnny’s before and after pictures. The only identifiable moles and birthmarks were taken off via laser etching. In this sense, his skin was perfect. His new limbs consisted of a titanium alloy skeleton with carbon nanotube joints. The muscle and tendons were the works of genetic alteration; the same with the nanomechanical nerves that would control them. His eyes, ears, and larynx were replaced with mechanical equivalents. Ashleigh was visualizing and thinking about what would happen to Johnnywhen he first awoke while eating in the cafeteria. Joshua sat across from the Brit. His changing skin color was now on the pale end. To graduate with high honors and work on one of the greatest projects for the twenty-first century should be a big accomplishment; however, it made him feel uneasy. “How long until they decide to wake him up?” he asked. “In a couple days,” Ashleigh replied, “Though I wish they would allow him to open his eyes for the first time in a cozier place.” Even after five years, the place was in neutral colors. “Well, it depends on what they turn on first,” Lucas said while looking over his nice craftwork. The three have been sitting together in Mariposa’s cafeteria since the beginning of the project. Lucas has lost weight, Ashleigh was quite grouchy, and all three had apparent bags under their eyes. “They should turn on his senses first, “Ashleigh stated, “It would be the easiest way for him to get used to his new looks and understand what has happened over the years of partial isolation.” “Partial isolation?” “That’s if he could get used to his body,” Joshua added. He was holding a peach in his hand before biting it. Fresh fruits were an uncommon treat due to paranoia. People were afraid that the next great plague would come from apples injected by a Luddite. “He may think it is nothing but a dream.” “I though so at first,” the auburn Brit replied, “They said that when he came here he had a habit of tapping his head on the pillow. The nurses thought it was seizures but the scans were normal. Someone noted that it was Morris Code and Dr. Ferris suggested that I should learn it.” “Why learn Morris Code? It’s only for emergencies,” Joshua stated. “To know what he was saying.” Ashleigh was sipping on a can of Pepsi and only stopped when he started to talk.

“What was he saying?” Lucas asked. Everyone thought that Johnny was completely isolated. “He was saying to kill him,” Ashleigh replied somberly, “I talkedto him about it and told him about what we were doing to him. I also told him to expect changes over the years and know that he would look different when he sees himself for the first time.” “So, he knows what is happening to him?” Joshua asked. “He knows what is happening to him,” the auburn Brit replied, “It’s just…” “It’s just what?” the spec-wearing scientist questioned. “The man doesn’t remember who he was before his accident and we have no information on who he is.” They were pondering quietly for several moments before leaving to their rooms. “Today’s the day that Johnny will wake up,” Ferris said jovially,“Mariposa, have you set up the cameras?” He was keeping a keen eye on the man who was in the bed across from him. The tawny-gray hair was a contrast to the head of complete gray on Dr. Ferris. “Yes sir,”the AI responded. Several of the researchers were outside ofthe room, waiting for Johnny to open his eyes for the first time in five years. Others were there to activate the cybernetics one by one. The only other person in this room was Ashleigh. The auburn Brit walked to Johnny and started to tap on his skin. He stopped and Johnny started to tap his head on the pillow. “Sight it is,” Doctor Ferris stated, “Mariposa, give them the order to activate his ocular cybernetics.” The exchange of tapping came and went. Ashleigh tapped on his skin one last time before scooting back. The bed was being lifted so that he was inclined. Slowly, the man’s eyes opened for the first time in five years. The irises were seafoam green. Johnny quickly closed his eyes in reaction from exposure to light for five years. The lights dimmed to help the man see. He opened his eyes once more and looked at the two men. Doctor Ferris was waving while Ashleigh was wondering Johnny would mistake the doctor for him. Johnny started to tap his head once again. The nervous doctor shook his head no and pointed leftward. He turned his head and seen the auburn-haired man sitting beside him. Ashleigh waved his hand. His reaction only changed to shock. This caused concern for the psychologist. “Something’s wrong with his_” Ashleigh was interrupted in mid-sentence when he felt a terrible feeling from his chest. He looked down and seen that Johnny’s arm went through the left side of his ribcage and came out in the back. His eyes widen in shock before Johnny pushed him off with his free arm. Doctor Ferris looked at the scene in horror. “Mariposa, we have a code red,” he saidin his nervous tone. No response, no alarm to signal retreat. “Mariposa, we have a code red! Are you listening?” “Sorry Doc,” a voice said over the intercom, “But Mariposa is shut down for a while.” The voice was more masculine and it was partially synthesized. “Well, what do you think of your precious little Johnny now?” Ashleigh was lying on the floor

with blood pooling from his wound. He was trying to calm himself down to prevent his body from going into shock. “Are you starting to realize why the project was started to begin with?” There were evident signs of mocking in this voice. Johnny was starting to move slowly while getting out of his bed. “Some of the best people worked on this man and for what: Making him human! Like I said, those government types become iffy when their goals are hindered by distracted scientist like you.” Doctor Ferris though he recognized that style of talking from somewhere but he did not remember who spoke like that. “Who are you?” he asked. He was now staring at a standing Johnny. Who could have manipulated Johnny like a puppet and shut down a DARPA AI.? “You can call me Carson_Dive, Doctor,” the man responded, “Although you won’t be living long enough to remember the name!” Johnny started to walk to the door. Doctor Ferris placed himself between the two. “I won’t allow anyone to use my research in this way,” he stammered nervously, “You’ve possibly brought Johnny to the point of breaking.” “Sorry Doc,” the voice replied, “But I only want to show why it is not wise to leave someone like me alive!” Johnny’s left arm moved and smacked the doctor several feet back before he left the room. “What do you think is happening in there?” one of the scientist asked. Joshua was as close as he could be. “Well, Ashleigh was the lucky bastard to see him up front,” Lucas replied, “As soon as he comes out, we’ll be able to ask him.” People continued to mummer comments and questions until someone shouted. “Mariposa, we have a code red! Are you listening?” The voice came from only one source: Doctor Ferris. His usual nervous voice had an underlying tone of panic. Joshua had a feeling that the situation was goingto become worse and started to walk away. Lucas noticed and started to walk along with him. They continued to walk fast and started to run when they heard the screams. Both were wondering what the hell was happening back there when they hid. The shouts and apparent thuds of flesh hitting flesh ended. The two came out of their hiding place and Lucas started to retch. The bodies of their fellow co-workers were spread about in the hallway. Joshua had only one guess on who could cause this much damage in such a short time. “Where’s Johnny?” he said walking quickly to the door where Johnny is or was being held. He avoided stepping on anyone who may be alive. He reached the door and noticed that there was blood on the floor. It belonged to Ashleigh, Dr. Ferris, or both. “Anyone alive?” he shouted. The scene must have been quite gruesome when it began. “Yes,” someone wheezed. The British accent was recognizable. “Ashleigh!” Joshua ran to where the man was lying. His face widen in horror when he seen the gaping hole in the man’s chest. “Shit! Lucas!” he shouted.

Lucas ran towards to the room and seen what had happen. “Mariposa!” No response. “Mariposa!” “Ashleigh did not make it; he died in my arms from blood loss and a punctured lung. His last words were about how he wondered if Johnny was forced to watch the entire thing or was his ocular cybernetics cut off before the events happened. Doctor Ferris survived with a broken arm and a few cracked ribs. He said that a deck jockey by the name of Carson_Dive had shut down Mariposa and hijacked Johnny’s systems. He wasn’t sure how it happened who the true identity of the phreak was and why. Maybe he did it to show his skills or was it revenge.” His still had the tan but there were more wrinkles on his face and his hair was white. He was tearing up from the remembrance of those horrid memories. The man sitting in front of him was listening to ever word he said. “Dammit! Ashleigh didn’t deserve to die!” He was not trying to sob in front of the man. “What happened to Lucas?” the man asked calmly. “Suicide. He was driven mad from PTSD and couldn’t take it. We were the ones who had to explain how the hell the project went to shit. They deemed the final result a failure from backdoors for preaks to use to manipulate Johnny. I was allowed to leave on the condition that I kept the information a secret and like Dr. Ferris said it did not go onto my record or resume.” He sipped on the Coca-Cola that was in his hand. They still put cocaine in it but not as much. “I’m still known for my works in advancements in nanomachinery that repair the human body even in the most critical of conditions. I would rather be remembered as the man who won the Nobel for his contributions in beneficial nanomachinery than for that horrid experience.” “Do you consider the project a failure?” “As an experiment to bring the closest man to death back from the abyss… It is a possible yes. I was never told what happen to him or where did he go. Whoever cracked into his systems may have left him in a broken state. As an experiment to help mankind it wasn’t. It helped me figure out many things that I put into later use. It also helped me make enough money to take care of one of the twins of my sister.” “Where is he now?” The man looked at the other contently. “Doing the same thing I famous for.” “Oh.” It was quiet for a few moments. The man was getting up. “Thank you,” he said. “For what?” “For telling me that I wasn’t the one who killed all of those people in Mariposa.” Joshua’s eyes widen when he realized who it was. The shock went away quickly and was replaced with content and silent tears. “You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Author’s Afterword This is only the beginning of a serial that will be updated at odd times because of my lethargy. If anyone can get the few odd references that I’ve placed, then kudos goes to you. I would not mind if someone made me a cover to this but I’m not that lucky when it comes to these sorts of things. Total word count for the story is 6,612 (without the afterword, the title, and the author’s name).