Chương 15: Ch 11b - Integration

The technician's hands swipe and pinch across the space between them, as if he is simultaneously conducting an orchestra and plucking flies from the air. His young face is painted in concentration as he flicks his attention between the space and the plain wall behind her. White skin shines through the short stubby hairs of his buzz cut; she's yet to spot a mole or freckle on his head or neck, his pale skin is marred only by the blue veins visible at his temples and the dark circles under his eyes.

She tries not to stare at him too openly but there is little else to capture her attention. A wandering mind means Argatta's and Vheece's revelations forcing their way into her thoughts, agitating the well of panic in her stomach that she keeps pushing back down. Her bottom lip trembles. She presses her mouth into a firm, tight line and draws in a deep breath. Flavitt shifts in his seat.

As soon as Joss had delivered her back, Gask had launched into an explanation that Flavitt, the nervous looking man hovering in the corner of the room and who looked to be just out of puberty, had come to finish the setup of her conduction comms.

"A standard communication augmentation." The doctor had seemed quite enthused by the activity and made a point of emphasising Argatta's support of this"great step towards integration."

"This will help you normalise our world," she'd said, her voice deliberately low in front of Flavitt. Cara knew the woman had meant it as a reassurance, but the words had only thickened her dismay. A dismay that had taken hold with the realisation that not only did she have to accept these people, this world, as her new reality, but that they were no more in control of the events that had brought her here than she was.

As Gask had ushered her to a chair, Cara had tried to initiate a conversation, desperate to unpack the overload of insight that had just been unleashed on her. Gask had refused to engage. Refused to answer her questions. Who were the others? What had happened to them? What would happen to her? With each question Gask's friendliness had diminished and her pace quickened.

She had moved briskly through a set of instructions about the immediate procedure, words which Cara's mind had filtered for any scraps of hope or understanding then discarded as worthless. In desperation Cara had resorted to grabbing Gask's wrist, demanding her attention and her answers. In one quick motion Gask had twisted out of her grasp and pinned both of Cara's hands together, crushing them in an unexpectedly powerful grip." Don't." She had warned,"you can't fight your way out of this, don't try."

When tears had streamed down Cara's cheeks, triggered by Gask's sudden aggression but born from the panic and helplessness that was constantly building inside her, Gask's scolding had taken a darker turn.

"And don't do that either," Gask had hissed,"it's weak and achieves nothing but derision and loathing, especially from him." Shocked into silence Cara had stared at Gask. The woman's face seeming suddenly older, the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes less the result of a life spent smiling and more a sign of fatigue. Expressions of vexation and sympathy had fought on Gask's face as she had released Cara's hands. Then the moment was over, Gask switched back to the competent doctor, briskly completing her tasks.

Flavitt, who had stood frozen during the entire exchange, had quietly resumed unpacking a set of instruments onto the table as if the interaction had never taken place. Again, her gaze sweeps the room. The clean white walls are cut through by a dreary grey at waist height that sinks to merge with the grey of the floor. The furniture doesn't vary from the monochrome theme nor introduce any flair with its utilitarian angles.

The two of them are sitting at a small table in the open area outside of her room and have been for some time. Gask had hovered long enough to ensure Flavitt was ready to commence his activity before excusing herself back to her office. Cara searches the walls but there are no clocks or windows, no way to track the passing of time. They have been sitting long enough to make her bottom numb in the hard seat and her legs become restless as they dangle from the chair, only the tip of her boots meeting the floor.

Flavitt's finger traces an arching swoop through the air which stops abruptly with a final stab. He blinks a few times then looks to Cara as if surprised to see she is still sitting across from him. With what looks like painful reluctance he reaches to her arm which is stretched across the table between them. His fingers tremble as he undoes the band he had strapped to her wrist at the commencement of his task, taking great care to avoid touching her skin as much as possible.

The amber lights on the band fade out as Flavitt carefully rolls the strap around a length of tube. Cara rubs at the red marks left on her wrist as she pumps her fist open and closed, encouraging movement back into her stiff fingers. Flavitt's shaking hands return, swiftly clipping a cuff over her forearm as if he is catching an animal in a trap. The brassy metal is tight and cold against her skin. Starting at her wrist it extends two thirds of the way up her forearm. She twists her arm, unable to detect any join.

A haptic buzz ignites a wave of goosebumps up her arm and a beam of satisfaction on Flavitt's face as he stares at the wall. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Finished?" Gask asks as she makes her way over, placing a small black case on the table.

"Uh, yes, uh, I've finished collecting the data I need. I've synced the conduction strips. The patch I can sync as soon as it is applied. This cuff is temporary. I will re-engineer some of the components on her designated cuff once I've calculated her, er, adjustments. I'll let you know as soon as it is ready to fit. Vheece has made it clear it's my only priority."

"I- Do I-? What is this for?" Cara asks, brandishing the cuff.

"I told you," Gask says, "You need it for your conduction comms."

"My what?"

"Your conduction comms. The implants I inserted behind your ears as quarantine ended." Gask impatiently taps behind her own ear.

"They are central to how we organise, disperse orders and issue alerts. Were you not listening to me?"

"I was, I- What implants?" she feels behind her own ear. Her fingertip traces a rectangular lump under the skin between the back of her ear and her hairline.

"What- what else have you done to me?"

"Don't meddle with it," Gask snaps, swatting at Cara's elbow.

"I've implanted nothing else. I'm still assessing what you would be compatible with. You're still a basic."

"A what?"

"A basic. It's what we call a person who has had no enhancements. Standard conduction and optic implants aren't considered enhancements anymore." She stands quickly. Vertigo spins the room, trying to fling her through the wall. She stumbles. Her cuff knocks against the table with a clunk. Behind her the chair clatters to the floor. Her attempt at a yell is a pathetic whine, "But I don't want this! You didn't ask!"

"Nonsense. All Feilaners have conduction comms and wear cuffs. I have already explained that they are integral to our way of life. Flavitt is crafting you a bespoke cuff which will give you access to more of our technology." Cara's protest that she is not a Feilaner is interrupted by the opening of the double doors. Wyndeer strides into the room. He is shaping his mouth to address Gask when he stops suddenly. He looks from Gask to the fallen chair and then to Cara. His eyes narrow.

"Problem?" he asks. Gask pats Cara's arm. Cara flinches at the touch. Gask's hand slides up to cup her shoulder. It is not a touch of comfort. It is a warning.

"Just some clumsiness," Gask replies, "You're early." Wyndeer's eyes linger on Cara. She cannot hold his stare. She looks down, her attention immediately drawn to the brass shine of the cuff. It feels suffocating on her skin.

"He wants her now," Wyndeer says by way of explanation.

"Is she ready?"

"Almost," Gask mutters. She starts to rummage in the black case on the table.

"Flavitt." The young technician squirms in his chair. He had been so still Cara had forgotten he was there. He flicks at his cuff; his fingernails make small scraping noises. Gask selects a palm sized purple square from an inner pocket of the case.

"Turn and lift up your top, Cara," she instructs, dripping a viscous liquid from a small vial onto the square. Cara, head still spinning, is struggling to follow the changing events in the room.

"Excuse me?"

"Turn," Gask orders, already tugging at her shoulder. Cara is still mid turn when Gask pulls her top up her back. Letting out a yelp, Cara clamps her arms down over her breasts, pinning the rising fabric to her body. Gask presses firmly on the exposed skin between her lower shoulder blades then lets the top drop down.

"The patch is on. Flavitt, can you confirm the synchronisation?"

"Uh, yes," Flavitt replies, distracted by an invisible movement on the wall. His left eye flickers blue again.

"Uh, yes, that's complete." Gask turns Cara back towards Wyndeer. The room spins. Cara clutches at the edge of the table to stop herself falling off the floor. Gask is frowning. She searches again through the black case, pulling out a thumb-sized bulb of clear liquid.

"You look imbalanced," Gask says. Cara finds her chin being eased down and the contents of the bulb squirting into her mouth.

"Swallow," Gask orders Confused, dizzy, and with Gask pushing her jaw shut, Cara automatically swallows the sweet syrup.

"She is ready," Gask announces with little enthusiasm.