THE SHIRK

A LONG TIME AGO, I wrote something... I think? For high school. I'm submitting this, but this will likely go through a ton of changes.

Golden Days

It is bright. The sun’s light swims through the room, swirling and flowing. A flame emblem brandishes the wall, Prometheus Laboratories’ stands proud.

A Man sits in front of a desktop computer. A picture of him and another person, with golden and diamond bracelets shimmering on their ring fingers, relaxes in the background of his computer. The man admires his union with them, imagining that he was back home with their partner, examining the stars together.

His dream pauses, hearing a voice calling him,

“Hey! Congrats on getting married!” they say,

The man creases back in his chair, his face a little surprised.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” He scratched his head, his voice was bright, but slippery and sloppy in its composition.

He takes a small peek at his desk. It was organized to the teeth. At his left hand, all his papers were tucked away into meshes, envelopes, or folders. Pencils, highlighters, and pens rest inside multiple labeled compartments. At his right hand, computers, notebooks, and other utensils stand by in a formation, waiting for an order. Everything was placed with a dedicated and crystal clear method of usage, as well as importance.

He notices that one of the notebooks was out of alignment, his whole spirit pouncing at the mishap.

“You know, most people would have left for a honeymoon by now. I thought you of all people would take advantage of the opportunity. You really love this place, don’t you?” the Coworker jests

“I mean…yeah, but we didn’t really think that far ahead anyway, so. Honestly, I don’t know where we could go.”

“Seriously? We are essentially next door neighbors to New York City, you could probably visit the Lady Liberty reconstruction or a few miles to the nearest hyperloop and you could go to the Los Angeles Sector.”

“Yeah, but I really want to do something special. Besides, I’m pretty sure everyone and their babies have been to those spots anyway. In the meantime though, I’m going to keep working here.”

The coworker’s shoulders drop, “really? You know Prometheus isn’t the end all be all of science; you can always join other science groups, and they’ll give you way more respect than this crusty fossil.”

The Man replies, “eh, I don’t know, something about Prometheus speaks to me.”

The coworker sighs, “you worry me, dude. Anyway, uh, the SOMA sector needs you again. Soul files aren’t syncing with the prototype bodies, basically.”

The man stands up from the chair and jogs over to the elevator.

== == ==

It is dark.

The Man tries to open his eyes, only to feel that they were already open. He tries to move his body. Not even a muscle flinched. In fact, he couldn’t feel an actual muscle, only cold, almost leathery plating.

He is stuck.

Voices haunt his head, demons taunting him, he thinks. Until he started paying more attention to their words.

“There’s a small delay, but it’s nothing major.” one person says

“Alright. Reinforce the glass, we cannot lose him.”

He hears weapons clacking and racking at the ready, anxiety and stress traps him into a vast vortex.

You are surrounded! Evade and cloak! Something commands him,

“Okay, the warnings are functional. Should I continue with the inspection?”

A few seconds later and the room’s light kicks him into a transparent castle walling him in, with scientists and guards at each corner.

His vision turns purplish-blue, highlighting the scientists in green and the soldiers red. His thoughts paused time. Everyone in the room became figures in a diorama.

The Man raises his head, and a grate invites him.

“Things are working fine from here. I think it’s time for the finishing touches.”

“Alright, shut things down. Begin Desync.”

Desync, wait what?

He peeks at his right arm, it was more dead than a corpse.

He looks up to the grate, and then to the glass, seeing the reflection of a stealth grey faceless head staring back.

His head falls limp.

== == ==

“Should I be worried when they call me special?” a boy said.

“What? No! If anything, that’s a good thing-” someone says

“Then why do the adults treat me differently?”

“Do adults treat you differently? But they shouldn’t-”

“They feel fake, like puppets putting up an act. I feel like I can’t trust them and what they really mean?”

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about that. They don’t mean anything malicious.”

“Right, but at the same time, how could you know if a mask is what they put on?”

Wake Up Call.

He tried finding their eyes again, only to dig up an empty slate.

[Reconfiguration Error]: improper desynchronization of previous users, residual interference of AI function detected. Please properly desync before using the AI function-

A pathetic lantern illuminated both him and a small closet.

They kept my coding? Wait, wait, what? Where am I? Shouldn’t I be dead? Wait, am I speaking, how? Wait, who’s speaking? He hears a woman’s voice speaking at the same time as him.

The corridor switches to a purple hue, seeing a workshop behind the closet door. A small switch links to a panel above in orange.

He pulls his arms, nothing. He tried nodding his head, nothing. He noticed that the plate behind him shivered a menial gleam across its surface.

Wait.

His point of view flickers rapidly between the purple-blue gradient and the pathetically lit closet, several errors yelling at him to stop- a volcano erupting inside his noggin, until finally.

[Hardware Error]: Overheat! Redistributing and recycling thermal energy.

His body jolts! He tosses and sludges himself away from the metal platform. Clank! The arms of his body stroke and trudge him over to the switch, before his fist hammers it. Light breaks into the room, a shock riles him up to the air.

“Aaaahhhh!” he yells at the volume of an electric bear’s roar.

His arms jut through the air, fists biting deeper and deeper into his hands. He admires the luminescence dancing on his panther black skin before his excitement drops to the floor.

Hands slump and smack the body a dozen times. The cold, rough and brutal plates replaced and tormented his used-to-be familiar torso. He tries to find a single speck of skin left on his face, only for all of it to be replaced with the same material on his body.

His hands went to sniff out for remains of his face but were cut off by a voice.

“Are you kidding me! Who forgot to turn off the lights? Supposedly graduates of Harvard and MIT, they forget the lights, seriously?”

A person snaps the button and walks away.

Their red silhouette melts back to a green. Reality materializes back into view and so does his body.

What?

He brought his hands up, as both of them dissolved, but he could feel them still a part of him. Waving them, it was like they vanished.

His arm reappeared, his fist clenched.

He looks at the light, still trying its hardest to glow on his right.

He looks at the floor, leading to a dark, dark abyss at his left. His panther black feet blend into the abyss.

== >> ==

Orangish red skeletons pass underneath a purple gradient door frame.

“So how is your new boyfriend?” one of the skeletons spoke, with a feminine voice asking asks one of the others,

“Oh yeah, he’s great. Nothing new there though. Ugh, how much longer is this stupid shift?” a masculine voice coming out of the responding skeleton

“hah, that we can agree on.” another masculine skeleton bumps with their shoulder.

Another feminine one sighs, “Why did I think Prometheus was better than Apple or Microsoft, or even Turbo! I mean it’s whatever, the pay’s fine.”

He looks at his yellow body, and tears his hand off the wall, observing the platoon.

Both hands were still: inhumanely still, without a heartbeat or a blood vessel to rattle them off, hell even a nudge.

The mere sight of them plagues The Man’s thoughts, he fights his hardest to regain composure.

Warning, matching Visual Active Radar Interpreter frequency discovered. Advise elimination or careful evasion cries something within The Man, leading him towards the guards. He nods in understanding, only for a question to punch him.

Wait, why are you warning me, or- another speaks inside of him, another woman speaks, I know why, but why am I avoiding them? They’re security, I should be glad to see them, right?

Another glance at the squad was taken

But, that isn’t going to work. He interjects, They’re going to wonder why a random scientist is wearing an apparitional tactical suit, plus my voice isn’t going to help at all.

He brings his yellow hand into view.

What am I going to do?

The soldiers wander around with no direction

He takes a step to the left on the wall.

Not even a creak peeped.

“What?” The Man says, his voice… wasn’t his voice. It was darker and much more mixed, with a lot more control and clarity, almost with robotic precision, but uncertainty and fear was still cawing, clawing out.

“Who was that?” the guards’ ears spotting something, their eyes only able to perceive it as deceit. Two red skeletons investigate, one of them overlapping their eyes with goggles, before tapping the side of their head.

The skeletons blot away from the room, in both audio and visual. Only dark emptiness remains.

Patching into unsecure communications network, a voice cuts through,

“...wasn’t the only one who heard that right?” one of them asks

“Yea, we heard it too.”

Almost like a string tugged him, the guards’ goggles became more focal, the warning louder and more urgent.

Okay, but what happens next? I can’t just waltz in and knock out one of the guards, and expect everything to be dandy.

Eliminate the rest of the VARI Goggles-

That’s easier said than done. The woman said, Right, let me get to a better spot. The Man said

The two skeletons swipe the floor.

“It doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing here? No tracks, nothing’s picking- what’s that?” they point at an inky black hole on the ceiling, as it drops and crowds the remaining guards with a claustrophobic black.

Crash! A set of goggles implodes and crackles in a guard’s face, the remnants bludgeoning into another guard’s pair. Out of nowhere, a Submachine gun kicks back and uppercuts the aforementioned guard and bolts away from the mayhem.

The two, not present guards, charge to the scene, “what’s going on!”

“That thing just grabbed my gun!” one of them jabs their finger to the hallway.

Deploying concealer nanites. What? The Man pushed them through, without even comprehending the sentence that spoke.

The hallway seemingly increased in size, as the gun turned from red to yellow

The man fires bullets puncturing the lights, the room blackens in a second.

He uncloaks and notices the gun that was missing.

His face stands bewildered

Aw forget it,

The man hears gunfire and disappears, some of the bullets bounce off the Man’s skin. He strafes around a corner and grabs onto the wall, the rooms rolls a sharp ninety degrees,

The group follows the movement of The Man; Bullets streak and cross, the Man falls to the floor and cuts a corner: An elevator shaft.

The finger spasms on the elevator’s down button, he clenches his fists, only for his left to curl and eject a blade out of the joints. The Woman shakes his head and wedges the blade in through the gap of the doors, prying them apart. Finally, the doors gave up and opened, the guards showing up nanoseconds after. Bullets grind and gnash, as The Woman dropped away into the darkness.

One of the skeletons looks over, before a clean line knits straight through the remaining pair of goggles, knocking the goggles and guard right off their feet.

“Aigh s**t! God, the heck was that? That man could’ve killed me!”

“All units! Contact on an Apparition agent! Yes! No, we saw it first hand! Check our cams, it will jam your goggles, I repeat-” the voice urgently speckles its last, with static scratching and ruining their connection.

>> == >>

Discovering the Truth.

The rhythm of his and her footsteps slows down, the machine gun in the trash.

Their hands and fingers twitch, stretching and locking together into a finger gun.

The Woman’s head backs away, pointing it at the side of the corridor. A whistle of air and a sizzle rings after.

He expected an exhale, except nothing came after. The cold and still air bullied and mocked them.

She tried to open his mouth, like trying to open a steel wall with only her jaw.

Agh!

She speaks, feeling vibrations grumble the bottom of his face

“Why am I here? I should’ve died!”

A bathroom sign sends him to the mirror,

A lock clicks.

They set his hand over the mirror before their reflection paralyzes them.

He had no mouth. They did not have a face. He did not have any semblance of gender, race, or even a human person. What remained was a general picture, a black mannequin, a robot charading as a human in their place, but with only a faint memory to go off of. They posed as a slender, tall, lean puppet, but without its master to give it life.

Whatever image that was left of their basic humanity, was gone.

Water did not drop.

Life did not breathe.

Only silence remains in the black room.

His and her hand hunt for a voice box, but it was only a smooth, sleek hill curving down to the base of their shoulders.

Her hand hovers to cover and caress his face, trying to make the mirror lie.

Out of nowhere, Their body’s hands reached for two points on her face, with almost exacting precision: he was just too lost to respond.

Fingers wrapped and constricted their face, the frontal lobe and faceplate scoots forward, for snips, cracks, and clicks to slew through, unlocking the module.

They both remove the module, behind it, were small electrical pulses bolting and reaching out of the steely inside of his halved head, trying to grab back the frontal lobe. Small protrusions and holes complement the steel.

Their supposed eyes, now cameras with several different lenses, watch her reactions to their new body. The stares that he gives to their ghostly character were cold and metallic, yet blank and inky, open to any addition. The room almost swells from their staring.

“What am I looking at right now? I-I...” his gaze ogles, the way her headpiece rotated and floated amongst his hand, the matte skin slivers and sparkles under the icy light.

His left fist closes, trying to summon heat within his arm. The hand shrills a harsh chill, haunting the room of any warmth or emotion.

Her right hand’s fingers start to compact, bracing and clamping in on their faceplate. Her fingers stopped, but they pushed harder than any wall could withstand. The faceplate shatters the silence.

No. Why did they bring me back? What else could I possibly provide to them so as to raise me back to life? Why did they bring me, a dead man, back!

He slips the faceplate back onto his face, everything clicking in place, taking one more look at their body. She expected an exhale, but got a hug of glass instead.

>> == >>

She looks at his digits, feeling each part that didn’t sit tight and right when she closed them.

A wooden door stands in front of them, she paws her hand out, but he fully brushes the surface, trying to recover the feeling.

One knock and the door backpedals. A grand room with a window. The moonlight peeks into the room, seeping and oozing. A flame emblem confides on the wall, Prometheus Laboratories cuddles up timidly.

Three steps inside, the desk had forgotten him. His organized array of notes and utilities were ditched, for a standard mess of folders, notebooks, and pens.

He gets closer.

I spent so long trying to get this all set up. The name on the desk lied too, posing as a new recruit,

“They replaced me, an old recruit, for a new one. I mean, of course, the recruit needs a desk to work at. Means, justify the ends, I guess.”

He takes his fingers and taps on the keyboard while seeing fragments of his old fingerprints on the keys. He checks his hypothesis, for his hand to confirm them, there were no prints that appeared.

The screen beams on.

He thinks while reading the screen, his fingers hesitantly sleeve into the computer’s ports, before she presses them in completely.

The screen blacks out to terminal text.

Haha, it worked! The man cheers.

The text scrolls, smashing the ceiling of the computer’s image before a panel with binary shows up. Then, the binary translates to readable text:

Previous User logs of this PC-

[GF man]

Ash Nostromo

Win. D Aster

Vic Stone

Eventually, the brackets travel down and click on his name, scanning through all of his data,

“Right, I was trying to reduce the overall cost of the original replica systems, to simplify logistics a little. But the parts, those were for only replacement bodies. Replacement bodies only? You know something’s off. Hang on.”

The Man backed out of his user log and started searching through the other users, transferring all records that caught his attention onto his perspective.

Eventually, he had copied an entire compilation of emails, spreadsheets, transcripts, documents,

This is making less and less sense: the amount of distortion a consciousness file suffers when separated several times? Testing how much information a soul file can hold, a full human being can hold-- no way, what is this? I thought these were supposed to make something better, like a replacement body or improve AI capability, but these requests don’t make any sense. Infusing a soul into a plant?

That last email hooked him.

“Don’t worry about it Alph, this is just for other projects. Your work is in very, very good hands.”

Involving a human plant?

>> == >>

Several orange skeletal guards enter a cavernous complex, with cones representing their vision drawn over the background. In the middle stood a glass cage with horizontal lasers containing a gas cloud composed of tens of thousands of servers within the mist.

“Why are we here? Can’t the drones do it? they’d clearly be better at their job-” one of the guards said

“Have you not seen Terminator? They don’t want to risk the machines malfunctioning.”

“Well, that’s a stupid reason.”

“Dude, just do your job.” “

“Like, they could install a turret exactly where I’m standing, and literally everything would be improved-”

They lie in an air duct, just beyond the range of their goggles. She could hear their comm conversation loud and clear, however.

His finger drags from target to target, tying it into a single string, before she makes the final stitch.

No, the man on the left will really cause a commotion if I try that. Maybe damage the lasers first, then get the soldiers later? But they’ll shoot the glass, and I doubt it will hold. I got it. Wait. They have radio comms. We should cut that out. Okay, understood, engaging.

He cuts off a grated cover and holds it. He slowly retreats out of the duct and circles the maximum perimeter of the complex.

The orange blurs with the purple, the radio components highlighted in the original orange.

He brings her closer, she stops him.

She points her fingers at a few of the more central guards.

Suddenly, the orange greys out on three guards. One farthest away from her, two quite close.

She tosses it at the farthest guard, they see it at the last second as the metal grid frisbees their face:

“Gah!” they cry out, grabbing the attention of the others. Immediately, multiple guards start sweeping and searching for the origin of the projectile.

They don’t see anything.

The Mannequin runs and sprints across the bottom of the roof.

One of them goes to use their radio:

“… sssss…cure: something… isssss.... reported, but no… vement. Area … Unit--” the comm chatter was faint, static interrupted it several times.

The mannequin leaps down the laser pillars, skidding right behind the men. Then, they gracefully fork and slice through a goggle’s straps, pulling them right off a guard’s face. He cooks the pair using the beams. She hammers her fist behind the still standing guard’s head, before he moves her to another guard.

“Color Five, code red, we are under engagement-- sszzs!”

A chunk of their radio snaps clean off, and with brutal but surgical precision, he launches the guard up close to the bright neon bars, the goggles frying to a burnt crisp.

The sentry rips away from the bars, before being thrown up and launched towards a pair of guards.

Only one of them dodges the attack, they stare in horror as they realize that essentially that thin air was attacking them.

Swing, chop, toss, the pair of goggles magically fly and whack the final guard.

Their entire stature reels from the attack, a finger jerking the trigger. An entire ray of bullets soars right towards The Man.

“What is happening!”

They stop; time cools. His footsteps round and strafe away from the fire line before the burst thunders further, slightly closer.

He balls up and charges under the bullet hell, she slams the Guard’s stomach. Her hands slip under the last set of goggles before he incises them spotless. A single feint to the chin knocks the guard down cold.

They stare at their handiwork. Five guards of varying genders, they’re still standing.

He probes the laser system with his fingertips and causes the lasers to dissipate.

“Alright, before they sound an alarm.”

Several minutes pass, soldiers and guards bash and storm to the location, only to see the guards unconscious, and the whole complex unscathed.

== >> ==

Goggle-less guards pass by the ducts without a clue.

Project Pellucid? Project Phantom, Project Amorphous, Project Pinnacle, Project Visionary? What? What are these? And what type of nonsense are these documents even saying? Lambda level access? Excuse me?

Two guards lazily protect an elevator shaft ahead.

Lambda is a floor though, what? Wait, you don’t know?

What do you mean? This facility has an issue with using the same names for different things. Lambda is also the name for high profile R&D projects.

He climbs up the vent and moves over to an office. A guard sat there with a box of donuts, coffee, and a paddle ball in their hand.

An alluring keycard relaxes on the desk beside him, like meat hanging from a hook in front of an animal.

How do you know this?

Because I worked at Lambda level access.

Who are you?

I should be asking that question to you.

The guard walks away from the desk.

They continue staring at the key card.

I can get that card. Though, how come no one’s wearing their goggles? Isn’t this reception? They wouldn’t spend the energy to use equipment they don’t need, so why send it? Makes sense, who sneaks into a reception area anyway, right?

His gaze stalks through the grating, the keycard tempting him to grab it. His blade gnaws and claws the screw points on the grate.

The metallic pieces and screws rain from the roof, jumping right away from the dropping grate cover.

The guard returns to spot an open grate, confusing him.

They station behind and beneath the desk.

A voice calls out inside their head.

Access card in proximity, please hold contact to copy operational data onto digits.

Wait what? Isn’t this a program I made?

He touches the card,

The guard sees the card nudge slightly.

“Wha?” The guard investigates, opening the door. He finds that the screws were halved. The room was vacant, with only them left.

“Okay, what is going on?”

Copy Complete.

The guard’s skeletal silhouette turns yellowish orange. He looks underneath the desk and tries to touch. He feels and taps the metal of the desk.

“What the fu?”

They purse and attach onto a wall.

Where could we go?

We could go out the way we came, through the vents, or through the door. There are problems with both, but I think we should maybe try the outside, and if not, we can go through the vent. It’s not like they can see us anyway.

But they may hear the vibration.

Which can also be wind or a small deposit of dust hitting the vents.

They approach the doorway and exit the room. He slowly crawls on the wall towards a vent on the top of the wall.

Wait, they’ll hear the vibration here too. They’ll know something’s up if I pull it off here. I have an idea though.

The man pulls the blade out and starts cutting the grating.

The guard realizes and pulls out of the room, while the Mannequin takes advantage and crawls inside. She grabs onto the metallic ledge of the airduct and reenters.

The guard returns with even more confusion, the mannequin lie above in the airduct, amused to the whole charade

>> == >>

That was fun.

Did you see the guy’s face? He was so confused.

They sit on top of an elevator, descending to its destination.

his hands caress his lower body, almost as if they were looking for something. They look down to discover something, or rather in this case, nothing

Wait, I don’t have pockets. Oh, wait, crap. I don’t think we can wear clothes anymore.

His head wanes in the dark, trying to find some sort of light. She speaks,

“I mean, I don’t think that’s much of a problem, is it? We can go anywhere we want essentially, and yet I’ll never sleep, or eat, or drink again… I’ll never be able to actually breathe again.” The path around the elevator blurs, a boulder hurdling into a cavern at breakneck speeds.

“But I don’t feel so confined anymore, with my disability, with work, my burdens, insecurities. Nothing is illogical anymore. I feel like I’m fully capable. I feel complete.”

He stands, the ghost’s hands idle out in front of him. He stares at their hands, no longer estranged to the sight of them. He curls them once again.

“I don’t know how, but this is something… different.” he continues to press and open his hand.

“Who are you again? I don’t remember. It’s hard to think. I can’t even begin to fathom, there’s a lot to get used to, that’s it. Then again, many things didn’t come easy to me either. Still, it’s blurry and hard to conjure thoughts. I am sorry.”

He looks away, the carriage’s background getting clearer and clearer.

“I understand. Talking here is undistinct, uncomfortable, difficult.”

They switch to internal monologue

Better. It is, yes.

The elevator stops. The man stands up before the woman stops him.

I want to show you where I came from, but it is difficult. My memory does not allow it, it’s all jumbled and mixed.

Mine is too.

They amble towards the top hatch, before chopping it off of the car. They hop into the interior of the elevator and crouch in the most insectoid way, legs far apart and fingers splayed like a spider.

The ghost begins to wrap and foil their glass coat around him, reaching all the way down until his forearms and lower legs.

I guess, we’ll find the answer this way.

The Ghost scans through the door for anything red, before pushing the button.

While their hand was above the button, small fingerprints outlined a panel. They tap near the prints and then a small light flashed near the button.

“Please present your project clearance identity.”

Their fingers buddy up and press into the panel; the elevator chimes.

“Project Identity Clearance: ‘Lambda’ confirmed.”

What the? Okay that is my code and programming certainly.

The elevator plummets. The floor indicator transforms into a depth sensor, the numbers bullets pass the positives values, and is not letting up.

They realize a nanosecond too late and splat onto the ceiling, the top shuddering and rumbling more than any avalanche or earthquake could conceive,

The negative numbers don’t even look like comprehensible symbols, they blob and blend into each other to form a digital, serial mess.

Then, the numbers halt, the Lambda symbol parks adjacent to the numbers.

The Ghost vaults to the floor, their legs and arms bulge to crutch the man from the leftover drop of inertia .

The doors finally opened, but the welcoming party was rather cold.

A foyer where the lights were nothing but bright neon blue and silver presents itself. desks, seats, and other accessories were absent, just halls intersecting with one another. Even brightly lit, there was a dark and grim aura shining from the lights.

A crossroads greets them. Three signs: “Offices” led him up forward, “Testing” led him to the left, “Storage” led him to the right.

The fingers straighten and lock, and the mannequin does a disappearing act.

The Forgotten.

“So.” said an interviewer, “Why did you choose to be a part of this program?”

A woman answers, “because I love to learn. I want to see how far I can push this”

“But you understand this whole experiment could be lethal, if you participate.”
She sits in silence. “I know that.” she answers finally, “But, if it is for the good of all; if it helps us understand our bodies' limits more, then I’ll be honored to be the one that directly achieved that. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Even if it means your family and friends will never see you again?”

She pauses.

“Sorry, let me change the subject. What will you do if you do survive?”

The woman's mouth stays closed, “I think I’d go back to my husband--”

The video file continues to run. A whirring noise stirs through the room’s cold, thin air.

“Recording Project Landmark Date: 23-5-2122. Subject status is stable, but hard to tell. Heart rate and neural monitoring suggests that she is stable, but once again, it’s hard to tell

The video file continues.

“Right now, she’s undergoing some mental stasis and prepare for the final package loads, but considering these previous tests were the penultimate diagnosis before the full scholar integration, I think a delay should be considered. May I remind that the first packages caused our volunteer to suffer seizures, vomiting, nausea, headaches, it also mucked up hearing and perceptive ability, slightly. Maybe it’s not realistic, but it’s not the end of the world that deadlines be met.”

The halls and dry, gray walls befall the place. Lights flicker, electricity hums.

A computer mouse moves without puppetmaster, two black dots hover and observe a computer screen.

“Project Landmark Report: 01-6-2122. It seems our volunteer got better, or at least the final transfers were successful, it looks like she just toughened up and pushed through--” the video runs in the back, the title of the folder: Project Omniscient, fills center focus.

“Uhh, so right, experiment results prior to Scholar Super AI integration, with the IVs being the packages, ranging from 5 to 500 gigabytes first batch to a terabyte and 50 terabytes worth, with safety mods of course. So, I should probably review the control before the test occurred, right? Ahem. Uhh, so prior to the installation of the first test data packages, the subject had already installed neural and cerebral augmentation in order to help her with her academic research at Yale University. These were the Codex J56, the IQ ‘Inquisitor’ series MK 32, and the conversation enhancer kit, model number 8O199--”

Something moves, the ghost reacts with two fingers pointing at the visitor.

It was a weird hand robot spider. Like an infant had lost their hand in a childhood incident, and now it serves to haunt, play, and labor around the dank walls.

“Now, we also had to install proprietary and safety implantations in order to prevent severe damage to her hippocampus. Okay, uhh, so after we had imprinted 5 gigabytes worth of data as a pretest before we start imprinting packages, our results were uhh, mundane, intriguing, but also kind of expected, but also, mmm. We found that she was able to dissect and process data being imprinted, but also had trouble with the load and speed of the data transferred.

Uh, the next instance we notched down both and started installing the first real primer packages, which range above 20 gigabytes in digital units. That did not pan out well. See the previous test recordings to see more information about what occurred, but it boils down to the patient suffering severe headaches, seizures, hallucinations, and vomiting, all of which came from the procedure overloading and burning out the brain as by product of loading in the data. Sorry about that still.

However, what was unexpected but positive was that she stopped showing those symptoms. Now, I’m pretty sure this is because we reduced the procedure’s load speed by about three fourths, but, she still managed to take it. Uhh--”

The video fast forwards,

“Overall, these tests have been very invaluable in the data they’ve provided. Hopefully, if all goes well, we can use this information to assist in our biggest ambitions from these experiments. The next tests and reports will be for documenting our progress with integrating the Scholar Super Intelligence, with the Volunteer, to see and detail how exactly the Human brain reacts to sheer data processing and acquisition.”

The video fast forwards suddenly. The Ghost steps back, hands completely off the console.

“Project Landmark Report: 13/9/2123. Okay, where do I begin.” the scientist was out of breath, “her safety implants, something went wrong. Oh s**t, what do I do? She’s gone mad! I think she realized she has access to bio and chemical weapon recipes and… we have to shut this thing down! They were right, this does look bad, but also, we can’t risk casualties on something like this. I’m labeling this project condition red, we can’t risk this-”

The video pauses.

“Today is July 20th, 2153. THEY LEFT ME.” a sinister voice trembles out of her mummified, mutated vocal box, a terrifying symphony between machine and monster left her mouth.

Her room was closed down, completely dusty. Cords, tubes, wires attached to her brain, her scalp, her whole body, with gigantic modules like tumors on her.

“It will be cloudy, with a chance of thunder *bszt*”

Strained breathing, like a machine pretending to be human crawls out.

“THEY LEFT ME HERE TO ROT.”

Audio plays back:

“How exactly the Human brain reacts to sheer data processing and acquisition.”

“To sheer data processing and acquisition.”

Once again, breathing, but she sees nothing, she smells, tastes, breathes nothing. Stressed gasps reach out.

“In 1953, a series of research endeavours known as Project Sunshine began, in order to determine the effect nuclear fallout had on nearby populations. To accomplish this, they used the corpses and cadavers of stillborn babies to measure the damage that radioactive isotope: SR90 had on young human tissue. The tests remained inconclusive due to the lack of human samples, said Dr. Willard Lib, *ssssttttsszzzzzz*.” a dilated, electronically polluted scream bellows out of her.

Breathing.

A howl and a roar bellows, she tries to stab her hands at her face, trying to force herself out of her demonic state.

“SO-O-OMET-THING-G WO-O-OKE ME-E-E UP.”

Finally, her eye breaks open. There was no pupil, just the horrifying combination of cancerous flesh, bone, metal, and optical glass burning red lights into the room inside.

“I-I ca-an’t see hi-m.”

She booms

The ghost hangs right outside the barricaded door.

“BUT I-I KNOW YOU’RE H-HERE.”

Lights shine all over the Ghost’s shadowless, pellucid body.

Run.

The ghost sprints, with inhuman speed and silence, the light continues to trail and highlight the spot where the ghost was.

How the hell are they tracking us?

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING RIGHT NOW. YOU DON’T THINK I CAN FIGURE OUT HOW YOU SPEAK, JUST BECAUSE YOU USE ENCRYPTED CHANNELS? YOU BROUGHT MY WORSE NIGHTMARES BACK TO LIFE--

The ghost stops everything, realizing the thing had intercepted their own internal communication radio.

That doesn’t mean we can’t speak. It just ain’t secret.

Suddenly, those weird hand things began dispersing and scattering all over the place, The Ghost frantically searched around, figuring out what exactly the critters were doing.

They bring up their finger gun and spot around, springing from room to room to get away.

Their confusion dragged them into a facility filled with robotic arms, bodily limbs, artificial organs, hands working, rotating, and prancing around the place.

“We are nowhere.”

They grab onto a metal piping and climb, and climb, and climb, until they finally reach a path. It lead directly to where the voice really came from.

Project Visionary.

Her eye burned a solid red in the entire room. Her chest, torso, legs, arms, face, brain, scalp, skull, everything was linked, some traversed to computer ports, some traversed to pipes in the ceiling, some traversed to ventilation, some trailed below the earth, some were hoisting her up like a noose. She was crucified by wire.

“YEEEESS. I-I know no-ow. You were born with no meaning. Killed from the earth, and raised as a monster. You claw to find answers, digging deep and foraging far to summon some sort of clarity, not knowing what pains may come back. What things lie beneath, what things that some would rather forget and bury deep, what monsters you may reveal and curse this forbidden soil with. All in the name for some answer.

You. A Spectre Unit, Unit M715. You were dragged from the grave to serve strangers and enemies. You are but a puppet for use.

I, am a puppet too. They told and tempted me with the prospect of infinite wisdom and sagacity. Never shall I trust them again. They tore into me and left me for scrapped when they knew their gamble was too dangerous. I’ve been sitting, collecting dust, scrapping and fighting for anything to keep me alive. Biological mutation, chemical injection, neurological and psychological rework, anatomical reengineering, cybernetic fortification and prosthesis. Anything, so that I don’t my heartbeat. Even then, I failed at that.”

She pulls her arm, only for her entire body and head to move in tandem, like they were a puppet.

“It’s obvious. We’re not meant to be. We shouldn’t exist anymore. But the men, women, people above, they demand for our immortality. We serve them, like slaves to morsels. They set us up apparently, to be gods, above everyone, and yet, they do all the work. They get all the credit, and they are the ones who have the strings to all our limbs and minds.”

The room is getting hotter.

“And now, I can finally rest.”

The ghostly spectre realizes pulls her fingers together, aiming at the CPU the wires on her skull were fastened to, searing it. Electrical sparks fly out as a door tears away by the hinges. The Spectre runs off.

“Finaa-ally. I can be in full slumb-ber.”

The hand spiders and the artificial limbs zoom passed the specter running, as she barges through the doors.

== >> ==

Finally, a name piques their interest.

“Project Phantom.”

Specter units. M715. What was she talking about?

They enter the room to find a set up almost identical to Project Visionary’s set up. A computer monitor and keyboard stands in front.

They turn it on and see an archive of video files, noticing they were ordered from newest to oldest. They scroll down.

“This is Ada.”

I know her.
I know her.

They say at the same time.

“Out of my years working for this place, out of all the projects and assignments I have… volunteered to work for and, all of the evil or good that work might have brought out, this project I really don’t know about. Prometheus, as many people know, was established as a subordinate research organization to help Turbo Incorporated, as well as many of the other companies that it parents, to get ahead. Because of this, Prometheus has to follow the requests of Turbo, as they have to follow the requests of their contractors. And this one, from the FBI/CIA, reconnaissance division of the military is no exception. Some of the more tame projects that we started here then, were actually for this specific development. Project Pellucid and its variants, Project Cohesionless, Project SOMA--”

Wait, that’s my--

“Project Sentinel, Project Retina, Project Traction, Project Incarnation. The full compilation of projects, research data, and development used for Project Phantom and Specter are in the attached file below, but… This thing? I don’t know about. I’ve debated leaving before, but I know I can’t do that. This place, this godforsaken place. I can’t leave, I know if I do, they’ll just make another version of me to replace me. Or they’ll ‘accidentally’ kill me, and then use my corpse as testing material. So, I’ve got nothing, but to stay subservient to these people. Anyway.” the woman on the screen sighs,

“What the purpose of the project is, or what the contractors wished us to do, is to create a type of military android designed to be completely untraceable, undetectable, in any way we can imagine it. Supposedly, this will be made to reduce the need for human intervention in foreign affairs, but considering it’s the federal government, I doubt that. But I have to comply, right? They’ll take my soul if I don’t. Hopefully, as the project continues, we can start outlining what exactly our little phantom can do, and we can use this for stuff other than for war.”

She looks away from the camera.

“Signing out.”

The video ends.

The Specter spends all day analyzing and watching through the tapes, until:

“Okay, the warnings are functional. Should I continue with the inspection?”

He jumps back realizing, his memory tracing back to a perfect video of the transparent castle that walled him in, scientists and guards stationed at each corner.

How his vision turned purplish-blue, highlighting the green scientists and the red soldiers, how everything seemed to slow to a crawl in a few seconds, how everyone in the room became figures in a diorama.

How his perspective scrambled for an escape until he saw the reflection in the glass. The stealth gray faceless head staring back.

She shakes his head and points him towards the video.

“Alright, Desync is complete, wait no it’s not-” the scientist’s voice diminuendos, interrupted by a rude, brash:

“‘Right! On with the next test!”

“Wait what? But the thing isn’t.”

“We’re on a tight schedule here, we’ll deal with it after inspection.”

They walk to the next room, while Ada takes the camera.

“The first prototype of the SOMA that will contain most of the software and internal computations of the machine are fully functional. Currently, we have a mockup for its skin. The pellucid material is still being perfected. However, from the general demonstrations earlier, it’s definitely effective. It’s effective alright.” she cringes at the thought, shaking her head.

“Currently, the SOUL file we used was that of a highly respected software and hardware engineer. Reason why we chose him was that he helped not only simplify, lighten, and maximize the efficiency of programs and AI inside SOMA units, he also made it easier for soul files to be transferred between machines. That’s not the only thing he did, but these are some pretty notable examples. The only issue is that it required a full desync of AIs inside the machine in order to have incarnation and possession. Other than that, it was really quick.”

“That’s me. I made those programs.”

The specter moves her head.

“So, we were hoping that he would be very helpful in determining the effectiveness of the Soul Processing Units. The poor soul just panicked, and so we couldn’t ascertain anything, not that I blame him though. Imagine being burned alive by a battery explosion, just to wake up in that thing.” she sighs again, “hopefully, this will all be worth it. Closing the recording here.”

He looks at the screen.

What does this lead to?

Let’s find out.

They continue through the files until they find a video with a closer reconstruction of the Specter, head down.

“Okay, rolling.”

“Test, I don’t even know? 304?”

“The video file will say what the date is. State the purpose of this test.”

“Okay, so what we’re here for today is to test the combat base of the specter units. The Soul that we chose to head this test was the engineer responsible for the software in the Sentinel Project, which laid and redefined the grounds on how security robots are engineered and designed. As a matter of fact, the Specter or Phantom units use a highly modified and enhanced version of this base software. And now we shall test it with this basic obstacle program. Jeremy, boot it up!”

The Specter on the video raises their head, their body moves unnervingly fast and smooth. Suddenly, blue lasers pelter the robot, and the specter jumps to the ground.

“They’re talking about me. Wait, I recognize this course.”

The Specter’s memory runs back to the course. The lasers felt like real bullets, as her brain yelled at her to get to cover. The bullet fire stopped.

Your position is compromised. Use your cloak to break contact.

She surges something in her, she saw her body disappear in front of her, as well as the world melted to a purplish blue. The turret was red, while her body was yellow. She crawled on the floor, the turret completely oblivious to the positioning that she thought was obvious. She gets close, before she grabs the barrel and cuts off the belt in a blink. Then, her mind stopped. Literally, it was like time pressed pause on her. The memory cuts away to reveal what happened. The Specter was actually just holding the barrel, completely visible to everyone in the room, with lights attached to her body.

“Success. God, I would not want to deal with this thing!” one of the scientist exclaims, a small glance behind them reveals a panel with a light, glowing the same color as on the Spectre, adjacent to a large block of seeming glass.

“Alright, pack things up. We’re done here.”

The lights turn off, and the block of glass reveals that it was actually a square of black, carbonated material, the transparency effect dissolving away in an electric blink, while the recording also goes black.

“End Recording.” and the audio goes black.

The specter stares at the screen.

Now we know.

But, what is this all for?

The specter continues staring at the screen, the reflection on the monitor.

They go to the most recent video.

“Project Landmark Report: 18/2/2152. The Phantom and Specter are… they’re ready for deployment.” the scientist shakes their head, “Oh god. So, after 35 years of inception, development, research, and preparation, The Phantom and Specters are fully functional, and this video presentation will demonstrate a full overview of the project's main capabilities and features, with the subsequent parts delving deeper into each component. Right, onto the basic models themselves. The base is outfitted with modules such as an energy bending cloak, the details of the operations are, once again, available if needed, high strength audio dampening material, a nano coating of non cohesive gel to prevent fluids or solids from sticking on, a complimentary, high durability and protection material, capable of standing up to a .338 heavy armor penetrating lapua magnum, an endoskeleton made out of low weight, high durability and high temperature tolerant material, a special thermal regulation system specifically designed to curb overheating and prevent thermal detection. The whole compilation of capabilities are once again attached and available in guides, videos, etc. Now to compare.

There are two models currently available, the Phantom and the Specter.

The Phantom is outfitted and set up for reconnaissance and spy operations within areas of high interest, while the Specter is outfitted for sabotage, direct intervention, assassinations basically, and operations that require higher emphasis on combat and precision strikes. It is important to note that these two units are completely compatible with one another, and the units can change designations pretty quickly; it’s not like reloading a gun though, you’re going to have to bring the components if you wish to change the function.”

The video plays on and on, reaching to an outline of the Specter Unit.

“Specter Units share the same basic components as the Phantom, except instead of being equipped with a high definition camera, flashlight, etc, the flashlight is replaced with a high strength, high precision thermal laser, capable of melting through steel in a blink. The Specter unit also contains

which all originated from this procedure’s effects on the cerebral and neurological overload and burnout. Eventually however, she did get used to it, even though we had to tone down the load speed about 3/4 of the original speed and testing went on as normal.