Page 5 of Human Reform
That word—cyborg—from her lips sent something cold slithering down my spine.I recalled what we once were—what she had helped make us.
“We need your expertise.”I kept my voice carefully neutral.“During the war, you wrote a specific neural framework for CyberEvolution’s combat models.”
Her face went pale, a flash of genuine fear crossing her features before she masked it.
“I don’t work for CyberEvolution anymore.”
“Which is precisely why you’re here.”I moved closer, watching how she tensed at my approach.“Something in that code is… reactivating.Causing behavioral anomalies.”
“You mean the killing protocols?”Her voice was softer now, almost vulnerable.
Something hot and dangerous flared inside me.My vision edged with violet as memories of what we’d been—what we’d been forced to do—crashed through my mental barriers.
“Yes,” I growled, my voice suddenly not my own.“The code that turned us into mindless weapons.Made us kill?—”
The surge came without warning.Rage—pure and unfiltered—exploded through me.My arm swept out, sending a tray of medical instruments crashing to the floor with a deafening clatter.
Alora jumped back, her eyes wide with terror now.
Horror washed over me as I stared at the destruction I’d caused.At how close I’d come to harming her.
“That,” I said, my voice shaking as I backed toward the door.“That’s what’s happening to us.”
I turned and fled, leaving her alone with the mess I’d made in more ways than one.
I burst through the medical bay doors and into the night air, my chest heaving like I’d run kilometers rather than meters.The metallic taste of adrenaline coated my tongue as I gulped down the rich, humid atmosphere of Planet Alpha.The jungle’s evening chorus—clicking insects and distant animal calls—felt absurdly normal compared to the storm raging inside me.
“Get it together,” I growled to myself, running my hand through my short black hair.My fingers trembled.Unacceptable.
I paced the stone pathway outside the medical facility, the smooth rocks cool beneath my boots.The twin moons cast my shadow in duplicate across the ground—two dark silhouettes of a man losing control.
How could I have let that happen?Years of perfect restraint shattered in an instant.The look in her eyes—fear replacing that magnificent defiance—burned into my memory like acid.
“Damn it all,” I snarled, slamming my fist against the wall of the medical bay.I didn’t even wince at the impact.The pain felt deserved.
A passing colonist gave me a wide berth, their eyes averted.Great.Now I was frightening my own people.
Just like I’d frightened her.
Something about her face, framed by that dark hair, made my chest ache in a way I could not analyze or categorize.I wanted her to look at me differently.But why did I suddenly care what this human woman thought about me?She was a means to an end—the solution to our glitches.Nothing more.
Yet I couldn’t stop replaying the moment.The way her gray eyes widened when I lost control.The subtle arch of her brows.The fullness of her lips as they parted in surprise.
“You’re losing it,” I muttered to myself as I headed back toward the security center, taking the longer route to clear my head.
The night market was winding down, the few last vendors packing away their wares under the glow of the illuminated pathways.A couple strolled past, their fingers intertwined, laughing at some private joke.I watched them, feeling strangely hollow.
I’d never understood the point of such connections.They were inefficient and distracting.
So why did I suddenly feel incomplete?
By the time I reached the security center, I’d composed myself.At least outwardly.Inside, my thoughts continued to circle like predators around one undeniable truth.I needed to see her again.
The security center hummed with quiet activity when I entered.Sage glanced up from her workstation, her blue eyes narrowing as she assessed me.
“That was fast,” she remarked, her fingers never pausing on the holographic interface.
“It was sufficient,” I replied, taking my seat at my station and pulling up the surveillance grid.
