Bubblegum Crisis Fan Fiction ❯ Bubblegum Cross ❯ Artificial Instinct ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Chapter 1. Artificial Instinct

Mega Tokyo - 2038

Dr. Leomund Sholtan pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose
and guided the robot-mounted, stainless steel probe deeper into the
exposed cerebrum of his conscious patient. The doctor turned and stared
at a display screen watching for the results of the probe. Adhesive
sensors placed on the patient's limbs and spine relayed a continuous
stream of data through multi-colored cables connected to the computer
terminal. As the numbers flicked down the screen's length the man's
wrinkled face remained void of emotion.

He turned back to the inert form and coaxed the robot probe a few
millimeters lower and this time the patient's shoulder shifted ever so
slightly. The doctor released the probe and the contracted shoulder
relaxed. As the numbers came back he wiped the sweat from his brow and a
smile began to form on his thin lips. The doctor probed again and this
time a black, metallic arm shot out to the side in a lightning reflex
that sent an instrument table crashing into the wall narrowly missing
the scientist's legs. Ignoring the instruments as they clattered onto
the floor, the doctor smiled again and switched off the robot probe. In
a swift, fluid motion the metallic arm returned to its owners side
without a sound. The prone figure stared impassively through softly
glowing, blue lenses at the laboratory ceiling.

Calling to an assistant to clean up the mess, Leomund removed his lab
coat and hung it up on a hook near the door. Speaking again to the
crouching assistant, he advised her that he would return shortly.

Leomund walked the length of the windowed hallway to his office in
anxious silence. Outside the mountain research complex a clear evening
sky was beginning to darken prematurely. Leaden clouds hovered
threateningly on the northwest horizon of the city. Hues of royal blue,
violet and amber mixed like vaporous paint streams underneath the cloud
bank.

The doctor turned to his left and glanced through the doorways as he
passed by the various research labs that lined the corridor. Inside the
make-shift departments, scientists peered through welding goggles at
thick plates of steel as blue beams of energy pierced through the metal
in a fraction of a second. In an operating room, a cheetah lay
motionless on a steel table as surgeons gathered around it stared up at
a micro-camera view of the animal's brain. Behind them along the wall,
several refrigerator cabinets held hundreds of labelled vials containing
blood, spinal fluid and DNA samples.

Other sealed rooms sheltered technicians who labored over laser welding
equipment and gleaming, alloy body parts. The hollow limbs were graceful
and curving, not bulky or heavy. The metallic-black, epidermal layer was
smooth and sleek with no protruding joints. The technicians hurried
about in hygienic uniforms, attempting to assemble the completed
sections.

The doctor reflected on the last ten years as he walked the unlit
corridor. Started primarily as a military contract, "Project Darkmatter"
began as a naive exploration into DNA mixing. While corporations like
Genom focused on the commercial market and the possibilities of social
control, the military's goal remained true to its name. Animals,
insects, reptiles and fish were all used for research into the
possibilities of a superior human- animal soldier. Many strange and
horrifying abominations were born inside secluded laboratories. All of
them died there as well due to mishandling by amateur geneticists who
failed to understand what it was they were tampering with.

Leomund had been doing his own privately funded research on genetic
blending when the military approached him. They were desperate to
produce results. Too much government funding was at stake. Leomund had
been a pioneer in the field of genetic research for twenty years until
Genom set up for business. Leomund's private investor's lost interest in
the benefits of genetic abominations. They wanted results now. And that
meant Boomers. Genom cashed in quick and fast but their short-lived
success was based on that very principle. The Boomer style cyborg had
become a volatile investment to say the least, and now they were all but
extinct. The rare domestic model still entertained patrons at
nostalgia-theme bars and the odd robotics convention, though they were
few and far between. Since Genom's demise, few places could service the
surviving Boomer population. Like the cold-ware superconductor computer
chip introduced at the turn of the century they became obsolete.

But a military contract was no guarantee of steady work. With
preliminary research complete, the brass pulled the plug on Sholtan when
information about Project Darkmatter leaked out to the public.
Journalists were willing to die to cover a story these days and a few
did while attempting to flee the military bases with their laser disc
evidence. Dr. Sholtan was publicly chastised by his respected colleagues
who for years had thought he had retired. Public outrage over human and
animal rights ascended to all time heights, and with his notes in hand
Leomund hid himself away among the mountains to retire in obscurity.

After a year of inactivity he was contacted by an anonymous investor.
Through a simple phone call that he would never forget, Leomund accepted
a contractual agreement from an unknown but wealthy and persuasive
benefactor that allowed him to continue his research with whatever
supplies, machinery or human assistance he required. There were no clues
given as to what was to be done with the results of the doctors work.
Only the verbal agreement that upon completion the new cyborgs would be
tested in a fashion of the benefactors choosing.

The work was slow but breakthroughs were made and over the years he had
perfected techniques for DNA mixing that could create a cybergenetic
being that rivalled humankind in its will to survive. It surpassed the
most agile animals in speed and reflexivity tests and established
strategy and reasoning results that challenged human capability. Its
alloy enforced 'skin' and skeleton made it nearly indestructible; if you
managed to hit it in the first place.

By the end of 2038 the only remaining hurdle in Leomund's research was
to instill an instinct into the being. The sixth sense that all other
creatures possessed. Somehow the process of DNA blending suppressed the
instinct characteristics of the donor strands, rendering the cyborg a
dependant slave. Tonight had seen the final hurdle struck down in the
form of a stainless steel instrument table under a black, metallic fist.

Leomund entered his office and flicked on his desk lamp, dimly
illuminating the rooms meager furnishings. Picking up the phone he
inserted his telnet card, pressed a single unmarked button and sank back
into the leather padding of his high back chair, waiting for the other
end to pick up. a man's clear, steady voice responded, "Hello."

Leomund sat up, "It's Sholtan."

"Well? Are the modifications complete?"

"Yes Sir. I have a few more minor tests to run but I think we've done
it."

"Hah! Well done! And what about the alias modifiers?"

The doctor sat back, "Final testing was completed this afternoon."

"Excellent. When will the prototypes be ready for their field test?"

"If all goes well tonight then I think we should be ready by tomorrow
evening."

"Incredible. Well done Leo. I'll contact you tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, Sir."

Leomund gently placed the hand-unit back down into its cradle and pushed
his glasses back up on to the bridge of his hooked nose. He swiveled the
chair slowly to gaze out the tinted glass at the flickering lights of
Mega Tokyo's downtown core in the distance. Smiling, he looked out
further at the horizon and the grey clouds that had now devoured the
setting sun. Soon he would know. Soon . . .