Chapter Text
The shell went off inches from the crumbling stone wall where Genos crouched. The reverberating shock rumbled through his steel ribs and made his teeth rattle. A shower of dirt chased a wave of shrapnel as thick noxious smoke choked his vision and blocked his sensors. The only thing Genos could distinguish beyond the black cloud was the pattering of hot rain on the back of his neck. It slithered down the collar of his uniform, snaking into his joints, sizzling into open wounds and exposed wiring.
Genos didn’t dare run. There was no cover beyond his position and enemy fire was coming down as heavy as the rain. It was just stripped field and the naked skeletons of dead trees for miles in every direction. Genos’s artificial sense of smell was so powerful he could make out the stench of burning skin oozing through the oily smoke that now covered the world like fog. He wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t human flesh. Chances were good, there were no real humans fighting here after all. This had all been farmland once and Genos struggled to convince himself the smell was dead cow rather than dead civilian.
The rapid readouts that obscured the sides of Genos’s vision flashed warnings in vivid primary colors. The pressure around him was building- They weren’t going to be firing incendiary weapons for much longer. Gravity bombs were next. Genos felt weight building inside his chest and limbs. His core chugged with exertion and his skin began to flicker with small curls of static electricity.
Pushing himself up from the ground took effort, pulling his body upright a battle in itself. The rain fell harder, the sudden downpour clearing away the last remnants of black smoke and leaving the landscape open and easy to scan.
Scars pocked the earth where giant rifts had opened. Metal bodies lay splintered in pieces everywhere- stretched to the end of the field and beyond to the red horizon. Some of them were still attempting, instinctually, to stand despite missing limbs or ruined bodies.
Gravity is increasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. Two minutes until impact.
The warning flickered in the center of Genos’s vision, obscuring the horror in front of him long enough to force him forward. Every step was becoming more difficult as his heavy body sank deeper into the muddy soil. The ground had rapidly become a swamp in places, quicksand in others. Genos took another labored step as his sensors pulled his attention in different directions. There was a deep laceration in his torso he acknowledged briefly. Pain lingered there but it was dulled by his Shock Defense; the process his body used to convince his scared animal brain that he wasn’t going to die of blood loss or a punctured lung.
Another step and more alerts burst across his HUD, screeching to be heard. A proximity sensor warned him there were other soldiers close, surrounding him on all sides. Most were inactive but the living ones were sending out distress calls Genos couldn’t answer.
An arm emerged from the muck and torn turf, its skeletal fingers grasping feebly at Genos’s shin. He let out a loud cry that was muffled by his helmet and struggled to pull away. Metal claws tore his pant leg open effortlessly and the arm slipped down to latch onto Genos’s heavy combat boot. Using Genos as leverage the arm’s owner pulled himself from the ground like a living corpse.
His bare metal skull still had half of its faceplate intact and Genos froze, staring straight into the scared young face at his feet. The soldier’s only working eye, the standard black and amber, pulsated with fear. The lipless skull strained, trying to form words as it soundlessly begged for its synthetic life. The world was slowing down. Thick, compact droplets of rain hit the broken soldier and the ground around Genos in small explosions.
Gravity is increasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. One minute thirty seconds until impact.
Genos groaned softly and shook the fallen soldier from his leg with a frantic surge of energy. The mangled remains flew into another part of the field, coming to rest in a puddle with a sad splat. They did not move again.
Metal bones crunched under Genos’s boot as he slipped, struggling to keep his balance. The barrage of rogue gunfire had stopped. Outside of the chirps and alerts in his own head Genos realized that it had become jarringly quiet. He could not remember the last time he had heard real silence. The familiar buzz of snipers shot, the pounding footsteps of War-Dogs or the strange plaintive wailing of red cannons were constant. War was nothing but noise.
Gravity is increasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. One Minute until impact.
One more step and the soft ground gave way beneath Genos all at once; his leg abruptly entombed in mud past the knee. His joints whined and his Core whirred from effort as he struggled. There was a massive weight pressing down from above and the sucking quagmire pulling him from below.
It hit him then that there was no escape from this. Genos stopped fighting and sank to his knees going down heavily onto all fours. The revelation didn’t scare him; he didn’t feel sadness at the thought of his own death. In truth, all he felt was a sickening anger…a deep inconsolable rage.
Steam began to escape from his collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. His uniform, which was supposedly flame retardant, ignited over the vents in his chest and back. Clouds of boiling vapor spewed from the openings but did not float upwards, pooling around him as gravity increased to unbearable levels. Genos felt the weight of his own body caving-in on itself. His joints buckled inward, the bones creaking as they fractured. He collapsed on his side and turned his head to stare up at the empty grey sky.
A raindrop hit the faceplate of Genos’s helmet with such force that a crack appeared in the poly-glass. Another slammed into his shoulder, his spine and hands. Each raindrop dented the metal and small impact craters appeared all over his body. It hurt. Genos had reached a threshold; his organic nerves were beginning to overpower the program that dampened his pain. A hairline crack appeared in his vision as a raindrop shattered his helmet and struck his eye-socket.
Gravity is increasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. Thirty seconds until impact.
With a concentrated effort Genos fought the intense pressure bearing down on him. He ripped off the remains of his battle helmet and rolled onto his back. The air was gelatinous and difficult to breathe. Genos knew he didn’t really need to breathe but his brain-The meat bits of him, argued otherwise. He gagged and choked as his ribcage pushed to expand, the pieces of elastic and malleable silicone that served as a sort of diaphragm snapping from exertion. The air he did manage to inhale had a coppery, electronic aftertaste.
A raindrop shattered Genos’s front teeth. Another smashed into his forehead with such force that it knocked loose the connections to his left ear. There was a brief tinny ringing sound before half his hearing was lost completely.
He had failed his family. There would be no vengeance for them, no retribution for his lost existence. No satisfaction. His enemy would live and he would die a second time- right here in the cold, wet mud. Under the suffocating rage Genos hazily hoped he would be dead for good this time. He had accomplished nothing…he was nothing.
Gravity is increasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. Twenty seconds until impact.
The protective casing around Genos’s brain was beginning to rupture. The organic fluid in his spine, now exposed in places, was bubbling; cooked by the heat of his body. The anger would not stop. Genos wanted to lash out, to vent his fury on something deserving. He wanted to do something worthwhile before being snuffed out in a single giant burst of heat.
He could see the bomb above him now. It’s strange bell-shaped body shimmered with an iridescent violet as it fell. Genos had to die here, he had accepted that, but…there was no reason to die a bad soldier. If he could preserve anything, it would have to be his pride in being good at what he was built to do.
Leeching all the remaining energy from deep in his chest Genos felt his Core throbbing weakly. It somehow felt like a combination of a heart slowing and a toy running out of batteries. Genos spread broken fingers and pushed his open palms towards the gravity bomb. He clenched the jagged remains of his teeth together in a determined grimace. A raindrop shattered his right eye sending sparks flying, narrowing his vision.
Gravity is decreasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. Ten seconds until impact.
The ports in Genos’s palms opened like camera shutters, their centers glowing orange with heat. Tendrils of blue energy licked up his arms and jumped between his fingertips. The power built in sputtering waves, stripping off layers of false skin and paint wherever it touched.
In a matter of seconds the pressure in the air reversed; the smothering heaviness turning to a weightless pull. Each second stretched endlessly as the rain reversed course and Genos’s body was wrenched into the air. Shards of metal, glass, turf and other debris floated around him, suspended. Genos felt his damp hair pull away from his broken skull, fluttering in wet, dirty clumps.
Arching his back Genos raised his hands higher. He worked to steady them as he drew in a long gasping breath and exhaled a long puff of steam. It lingered amongst the round marbles of rain and floating sod; everything illuminated by the orange glow of Genos’s hands and the purple light of the bomb. It felt so surreal… dream-like, almost beautiful.
Gravity is decreasing Unit A-12. Please clear the area. Five seconds until impact.
The bomb was easily the size of a house. It was so close Genos could see the model number printed on its side in huge block letters. Larger chunks of earth were being pulled upward all around him, hanging like islands in a sea of suspended raindrops. A dead rabbit slid by, slipping from a burrow now exposed to the open air. Its small, fragile body was the last thing Genos focused on before the incinerating blast of fire burst from his hands with incredible force.
It evaporated rain drops as it spread, burning everything in its path with unimaginable heat.
Genos knew he was screaming but he could not hear himself. The two forces were closing the distance. When they clashed the world would be nothing but pure light and cleansing flames. It would be the end. It --
Darkness.
There was no field, no bomb and no pain. Genos felt numb and abnormally cold. It was not normal for him to feel cold. His body expelled enormous amounts of heat constantly. It was part of his build; perhaps not a feature so much as a flaw in his design that had been weaponized.
The familiar musical tone that signaled an end to Genos’s sleep cycle echoed weakly in his head. He was puzzled by the sensation of his basic systems slowly booting up. He started a self-scan out of habit and was unsurprised when it stopped midway. It wasn’t the only thing malfunctioning. His proximity scanners weren’t responding, any information about his surroundings was restricted to a small red triangle and the words “systems unavailable” in the black void behind his eyes. Soon even the red warning blipped out and he was left in total darkness.
Genos attempted to move, wiggle a finger or reboot his sight. There was absolutely no response. Was he completely broken? How was he conscious? It was disorienting and frightening to have no outside stimuli. His brain was convinced he was awake but there was no physical proof. Had the gravity bomb shattered him? Was this what brain -death felt like; a cold wait in a world without sensation? Fear gripped him and Genos tried again and again to get some system, any system, online.
When he heard the voice it was so sudden and unexpected Genos wasn’t sure it was real. It was so close to his ear it was almost like it was coming from inside his head.
“Hey. Are you alive?”
The voice wasn’t exactly monotone…it was just very flat: Dispassionate was the word. Genos assumed it was a c-medic. Maybe he was still lying in the remains of the field. It was possible his incinerator cannons could have pushed the bomb far enough that it hadn’t fallen directly on top of him. He had survived somehow.
Genos searched hurriedly through a list of boot commands and found that his voice was supposedly operational. He ran the program manually and tried to move his mouth, excited when he was rewarded with crackly noise that bordered on speech.
The dispassionate voice answered conversationally.
“Ah. You are alive. Don’t worry; I’ll get you out of that box.”
Box? What did that mean? Why would he be in a box? Genos wished he could ask the voice some questions. Had any of his unit survived? Had other bombs been dropped in the area? Were their forces being held in place? Much of the anger that flooded him before was pressed back into the smoldering cinder it always was. It embarrassed him; it was shameful to be so angry when he had duties to fulfill.
Genos tried to speak again and a garbled smattering of distorted words buzzed out his mouth. It was nearly impossible to form the right syllables when you could not feel your tongue.
“O-omb.”
He managed.
“Wuh-Wuh-Where?”
“Er- Sorry I don’t really understand what you’re saying.”
The voice spoke distractedly and beyond the cold Genos began to feel strange, abstract sensations. His equilibrium was off. His sense of balance shot to hell. He was positive he was on his back as there was nothing but open air above him. The few pressure nodes in his spine still in operational order could sense he was resting on something, head tilted slightly back.
Going through the vast catalogue of his bodies primary systems without being able to see them on a read-out was difficult but not impossible. Both Genos’s voluntary and involuntary functions could be controlled by accessing the right system. The intimidating part was the sheer scope. Recalling the names of individual nerve clusters and running a diagnostic on each took time and fear was making it hard to concentrate.
Genos discovered more operational touch sensors in his left hand, shoulder and neck but would have gladly traded them for even partial sight. The cold was especially harsh in his spinal column and he was concerned that it had done some damage to his brain.
The voice spoke again short and to the point.
“Ok. I’m picking you up now.”
Genos heard his own voice echo this in a confused loud-speaker crackle.
“P-pick U-ft?”
“Don’t worry. I promise I won’t drop you.”
The impression of where his body lay changed immediately. Genos felt his head loll to the side and a subtle pressure as hands grabbed him. Someone was hefting him up and carrying him like a baby. The body he was cradled against was warm and the hands felt so strong Genos concluded their owner had to be mechanically augmented. He weighed over 600 pounds after all. Cyborgs were not light.
The searing cold was still there deep in his bones but Genos didn’t feel it as acutely pressed against the detached stranger. It was odd He (Genos thought the voice sounded male) had picked him up this way instead of calling for a full retrieval unit. It was a kind gesture and Genos appreciated not having to wait for a response from the nearest repair unit.
He would have to thank the voice when he was in proper working order; if that was even possible. Without his digital tools he couldn’t determine his own status. He could be leaking spinal fluid or suffering from brain damage he couldn’t feel. These thoughts scared Genos and he felt his hand clench and unclench rapidly, his fingers jerking and sticking from the cold in his joints.
“Hey. Hold still”
The voice didn’t command this as much as suggest it. There was a hint of concern there, hard to catch but still there just below the surface.
Genos heard echoing footsteps. They were walking somewhere enclosed with hard flooring? They weren’t in the field then. That made things even more confusing. The lack of moving air did suggest they were inside but when had he been moved? Perhaps when he was unconscious-
The person carrying him started to travel upward, moving up some kind of steep incline. Genos’s head wobbled, he knocked against something soft and his left eye fizzled, sparked and activated with a low hiss. Genos felt a small wave of relief when his black world turned outward. It was a fleeting reprieve; his vision was limited to blurry grey shapes and fuzzy shadows. Genos couldn’t decipher up from down and somehow it was convincing his brain that he still had the ability to be nauseous. The round black blur directly above him shifted and the voice spoke.
“Oh! Your eye lit up. That’s good right?”
A pause and the black blur grew larger in Genos’s limited line of sight. The warm hands clenched tighter and Genos felt his hand stop twitching. His joints were starting to unthaw and mobility would come with that, but…he was beginning to suspect that his legs were gone below the knee. Hopefully they hadn’t been lost. Replacements meant waiting and more often than not the replacements were terribly made. Genos gripped a handful of material that was probably the voice’s shirt and took the longest, deepest breath he could.
His chest wouldn’t expand and he couldn’t feel the air but he did hear the soft digital sigh he gave on the exhale. His rescuer, the voice, was moving different, his gait changing. He had broken into a very fast run, bouncing Genos uncomfortably as he picked up speed. When he spoke again he didn’t sound the least bit winded.
“We’re almost there.”
The black blur shook and as they moved white blobs that were possibly lights flashed past and soon Genos’s vision was too full of white to mean anything at all. He gave up and shutdown what little function was left in his eye, trying to focus on anything but the beginnings of phantom pain he perceived in his “muscles”. Genos realized he was moving in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t read his own energy levels but powering down was starting to become very appealing. He couldn’t have been awake for more than ten minutes but already he was feeling very, very tired.
He was jolted back to himself when the voice shook him.
“Oi, come on. Don’t die now. We’re here.”
When the voice let go of him Genos missed him immediately. The body warmth and the pressure of being held was the only real concrete connection he had to the outside world. The voice gave him a quick reassuring pat on the shoulder as it moved away, footsteps retreating. Genos wished he had the strength to ask them not to leave.
Another voice was speaking now, older and also male from what he could discern. Genos could make out his flat voice answering questions with short, concise answers. He felt himself slipping again, exhausted and burdened by the biting cold.
The new voice spoke close to Genos’s shoulder.
“I don’t know if you can hear me son, but I’m going to put you into stasis mode now. I want you to know I’ll do everything possible to help…”
This voice was older, compassionate and softly reassuring. Genos struggled to grind out a reply just as everything sputtered out into oblivion.
The bomb hovered above him. Only ten seconds until impact. He lifted his hands, the cannons in the centers of his palms thrumming as they pulled energy from his Core. A raindrop crushed his eye. The pain intensified in his head as his skull was battered. The thick, syrupy raindrops floated upwards. The fire gushed forward in a torrent as he screamed in pure guttural rage…
All of Genos’s systems came online at once. He gasped for air and felt all the plates around his ribs and chest stretch in a wonderfully satisfying way. Panting, he stared around eyes wide. The golden pupils constricting as his brain ran an automatic surveillance scan. He was hanging upright, held by two robotic arms around his shoulders. His torso was bare and when he looked down there was nothing below his waist by a long spray of tubes and exposed wiring.
The diagnostic readouts were piling up unread in the corners of his vision, moving too fast for him to follow. His Core was free of his chest, tethered to him by the single artery that connected it to his brain and nervous system. He glanced at it uneasily but it seemed safe enough as it floated above a small black and silver bowl, held secure in a dust free gravity-free bubble as it charged. Genos had never seen anything quite like it before. A gravity field being generated for such a mundane reason seemed…extravagant. Nevertheless it was good to see his Core glow a healthy blue. It hummed gently as Genos struggled to get his bearings.
“Good morning!”
There was a stooped old man on the ground smiling up at him. Genos hesitated to answer him, unsure if his vocal functions were in working order.
“Good…Good morning sir.”
The man’s smile widened and he nodded looking pleased with himself as much as Genos.
“I know you must be very disoriented but if possible could you give me your model number and a brief summary of your primary functionality?”
“Certainly. I am Unit A-12 of the 18th C-strike unit, Company Delta. I am an elite c-soldier compatible with all military vehicles and proficient with firearms and hand-to-hand combat. I am equipped with first strike incendiary cannons as well as-“
The doctor raised a hand from behind his back and stopped Genos with a nod.
“Yes. I am aware of your weapons systems. No need to go into detail. Now. I am going to ask you some more difficult questions. Do you feel up to that?”
The chill that Genos had felt the first time he woke was gone. The joints of his neck and hands rolled smoothly and both his hearing and vision were in good working order. Aside from the missing legs and dissected mid-section he was beginning to feel at ease again.
“Of course sir. I completely understand. You will want to debrief me.”
“Mmm. In a sense? Yes, that is what I want. My name is Dr. Kuseno. Do you have a name son?”
“My unit number is-“
“Apologies- allow me to be more specific. Do you recall your original name?”
It wasn’t standard procedure for a c-medic to debrief a soldier or call them by anything but their unit number but Genos did not question it. It was not his nature to question anyway. Authority was authority and he was at the bottom of the military food-chain.
“Yes Doctor. My human name was Genos.”
“Last name?”
“I don’t remember sir.”
The old man circled Genos once and the smile faded from his eyes.
“Genos. Well, if you would Genos could you please tell me the current year, your country and what war we are fighting.”
This question took Genos aback at first but he concluded that this was a simple test to make sure his mental acuity was working at full capacity. An intelligent decision-it wasn’t wise to send a cyborg with a damaged memory back into rotation.
“Yes sir. The year is 2409. My country has given up all former titles and is simply called District Y and it is the third year of the Great Divide War.”
Dr. Kuseno paced slowly back and forth as he listened, his expression becoming more and more difficult to read. Genos pushed onward.
“Civil disputes between the middle districts have lead to a clash of ideologies and attempts to form separate governments. District Y has joined the lower districts to keep the union of the single nation.”
The medical unit was very dark Genos observed. He could not make out the sounds of other occupants. The space seemed very large but he could not tell its exact dimensions. He and the doctor seemed to exist on a small island of light.
“Genos. How old were you when you underwent the process to become a cyborg?”
Again, this was a strange question. Genos’s age was not something a c-medic would care to know. It did not affect his performance as long as he went through routine maintenance.
“My death occurred at seventeen. I have been a cyborg soldier for exactly two years doctor.”
Kuseno’s look was severe and he turned, disappearing into the darkness surrounding them. A line of overhead lights clicked on and Genos could see parts of his body laid out on a long black table.
What Genos could only describe as a metal creature hovered above one of his legs and chirped as it worked on the joint of his left ankle. Its body was very round, stripped red and orange and reminded Genos of a plump honeybee:he had a few clear memories about bees. The cyborg was sure had never seen a robot like it before. More lights clicked on and more of the dog-sized bee drones darted past; tools and shards of metal held in their thin, dexterous fingers.
This was not a simple medic’s station. It was a laboratory stuffed with humming machinery and blinking screens. Some of the HUD’s were covered with scrolling lines of alien languages Genos could not begin to understand.
“I apologize for my informality Dr. Kuseno but is this repair dock new? Have I been taken outside of District Y for repairs?”
Dr. Kuseno sat at the table covered with bits and pieces of the cyborg’s body and picked up a piece of his sacrum turning it over in his gnarled hands as he gave a pained sigh.
“It is difficult to know where to begin Genos my boy. I don’t want to frighten you but…”
A hefty yellow robot drifted next to the Kuseno offering him a tray of tools. He thanked it accepting the tray and setting it at his elbow.
“Your war has been over for many years…Over a hundred in fact.”
The light in Genos’s core fluttered, the soft whir it emitted becoming a low roar.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand Doctor.”
“No. I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Nodding to the bee-bot who had brought him his tools Kuseno clapped his hands. A part of the laboratory wall began to grind open revealing a massive window and beyond it an endless sky full of stars; the infinite void of outer space.
“The union was preserved and peace was held for a good twenty years after your war Genos. Other wars followed but by the year 2460 more serious problems affected our world. Unfortunately we could not win against them…”
He turned, gestured out the laboratory window into the starry depths.
“…Only escape.”
Genos could not tear his eyes away from the view. Far out in the distance he could see the vague shape of a white planet encircled by several crooked rings.
“You are the oldest cyborg model I have ever seen. One of the original builds. You were preserved as an example of a Divide War unit I would imagine but it’s miraculous that your brain has survived so long.”
The stars beyond the wall were moving ever so slowly, floating past on a black ocean. Genos spoke slowly as his body began to shake.
“This is a spaceship.”
“It is indeed Genos my boy.”
Two of the bee-bots slid the clamps holding Genos from his shoulders and lifted his body to the table where Dr. Kuseno was working. A third maneuvered his Core, settling it comfortably within reach. The prep-table lifted slightly elevating his head; Genos did not look away from the window during the whole process.
Settling his work stool near the head of the table, Dr. Kuseno shone a tiny penlight into Genos’s dismembered torso.
“Long after your Divide War humanity entered the “Age of Monsters.” The monsters came slowly at first but their numbers grew exponentially. More and more cities were destroyed…thousands of people died.”
Genos finally tore his gaze away from the window and looked at Dr. Kuseno curiously.
“Monsters?”
“Yes, many different types. Some came from underground, others from the ocean. Some were man-made or evolved. Then there were the ones that were people once….take a deep breath please Genos. Deep as you can and hold it.”
Genos rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. He did as he was asked taking a long, deep breath. The doctor prodded about with a tool shaped like an ice-pick and somewhere inside him Genos felt something rumble to life.
“After four years we lost eleven of the twenty-six cities and their districts. Only fifteen remained under human control. Most were destroyed but cities like E and J had become the domain of monster gangs or self-made rulers. City U was run by a monster collective called the House of Evolution. Already monsters were beginning to fight with other monsters. That was really the only thing keeping the human race alive at all. The strong will always try and prove itself against the strong…you can breathe out now.”
Genos exhaled, a long plume of silver smoke curling from his mouth and nose. It dissipated slowly leaving behind the scent of old oil and dust. Dr. Kuseno tinkered another moment in silence pursing his lips. Genos guessed he was fiddling with the lengthy tubing that made up his digestive system.
“Your body is so primitive Genos. I’m afraid I can’t save most of your original parts. Fortunately cyborg technology has improved leaps and bounds since your time. I can rebuild you to look and feel almost completely human.”
Genos tried to sit up but only managed to raise his head and one shoulder off the table. Panic seized him.
“NO! Please doctor! My body…”
Dr. Kuseno put a consoling hand on his shoulder his expression patient under his oddly cropped hair. Genos swallowed involuntarily despite his lack of saliva.
“Is there no need for soldiers anymore? I worked hard to be powerful. I don’t want that taken away.”
A cold shiver went up Genos’s spine, a small convulsion rattling his bare back plating. It hit him then, the enormity of it all. The war was over. No, not only was the war over but even the planet he had known was gone. All the people he had known and the enemies he had made were both long dead. His memories of his past life before becoming a cyborg were hazy and evasive and now…now his purpose and his chance for revenge were gone as well. The only thing he had left was his body.
“Genos, I will preserve everything I can but I won’t ignore improvements that will give you a better standard of living. If power is what you want I can build you something even stronger. Unfortunately we need strong soldiers now as much as when you were fighting.”
A larger bee-bot, or drone-whatever they were, hovered close. Its small red eyes focused on Genos. It seemed to be waiting to see if his outburst would turn violent.
Putting a shaking stiff hand on Dr. Kuseno’s Genos let out a wave of steam as he relaxed.
“Thank you Dr. Kuseno. I apologize for my outburst. I did not mean to interrupt I just feel overwhelmed by my situation. I’m not sure I even understand how I could possibly still be alive after all this time.”
The doctor chuckled warmly.
“As would anyone and you are nothing short of miraculous Genos. Your brain has been in cold sleep; Cryogenic freezing. In fact I believe you might be one of its early experimental subjects. I have read that the first cold sleep tests were run on cyborgs.”
“Cryogenic freezing?”
“It has a few names Cryo-sleep, Cryogenic freezing or cold sleep. It’s a process of slowing down brain and body processes with controlled cold. By halting bio-functions you can stop aging and awaken a person years or decades later. My guess is that you were damaged in battle but your brain was intact and used for early freezing experiments. “
Genos mulled this over. He had no recall of events after the gravity bomb. Perhaps his vivid recollections of it happening just hours before were dreams. Maybe he had been flash-frozen, and left to relive the bomb in the field over and over again.
Then he remembered the calm, apathetic voice and one of the first things it had said to him. Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of that box.
“A Box, Yes! When I first woke up there was a voice who said something about taking me out of a box. I could not see who the voice belonged to-my vision was malfunctioning. But, I do remember them speaking indifferently and extreme cold.”
At this Dr. Kuseno started to laugh in earnest.
“I didn’t see what he found you in but I’m sure the box itself was an archaic sleep chamber. The scavenger didn’t tell me much but he isn’t a man given to complex explanations.”
“The man who rescued me is called the scavenger? What a strange name.”
Standing and stretching the doctor pulled a rubber hose from Genos’s open chest cavity and started to pull it apart. His smile was so genuine that his eyes were almost hidden by wrinkles and crow’s-feet.
“No. That’s just what I call him. He’s never bothered to tell me his real name.”
The rubber hose crumbled in Kuseno’s hands. The material so frail from age and moisture it began to turn into a foul smelling sludge as it disintegrated.
“There is so much to catch you up on Genos. I don’t want to heap more on you then you can handle right now. I’ll just say that the man who saved you? He found you hidden away on a part of this ship. If he hadn’t brought you to me then eventually I’m sure your sleep-chamber would have broken down and you would have died undiscovered inside of it.”
It hadn’t occurred to Genos that he had been rescued. The very idea seemed extraordinary. He was not the one rescued; he was the one who rescued others.
“I see. I should find this scavenger and thank him.”
“Not as easy as you would think. He has come to me with broken items before, nothing as magnificent as you of course. Just the odd robot or electrical device he finds interesting. We’ve met dozens of times but he never mentions his name and I don’t think he remembers mine. I have no idea where he lives. He is a very…extraordinary person.”
The doctors emphasis on the term extraordinary coupled with his smile made Genos all the more curious. He decided that the first thing he would do once he was in working order was find the voice, the scavenger and ask him his real name. It was good to have a goal, even if it was a tiny one.
During the war Genos had lost everything. His identity, his home and his family were all gone in a single day. He had enlisted to avenge them. His entire life had been fighting and pursuing the general who had ordered the attack on his hometown. Even after he had died once it was all he could think about. Now the thought of time without a goal stretched endlessly before him and it was horrifying.
He let his focus wander to the window again.
“You said there was still a need for soldiers Dr. Kuseno. Will they need someone like me? Will I be able to-”
Genos stopped mid-sentence and winced. An unpleasant smell had begun to leak from inside his empty chest cavity. Kuseno wrinkled his nose as he pulled out more rotting insulation rubber with a pair of forceps.
“My goodness. I am surprised your Core is in such excellent shape with all this water damage. You are a very lucky young man. Moisture only crept in through these first layers…but I think some of your skeleton can be salvaged…”
Genos blinked slowly, overcome by the sudden irresistible desire to yawn. He did so feeling silly. Yawning did nothing for him physically but mentally his brain was signaling how tired it was. Dr. Kuseno stopped prattling on to himself and gazed at Genos with an expression the cyborg could only describe as paternal.
“I’m going to start working on the more delicate parts of your nervous system Genos. Would it be alright if I put you back into stasis mode? Some rest may ease your mind.”
A wave of fear went through Genos at the thought of going back into the dark. He tried to unsubtly change the subject, feeling guilty as he did so.
“Did many people survive the monsters? How many are on this ship.”
The doctor lowered the work table a few inches, positioning it so Genos could relax what remained of his upper body. A bee-drone glided close and lifted his Core back into the bowl-like machine that created a miniature gravity field.
“There were millions of survivors. Most of them are currently in cold-sleep. On this particular vessel I’m not sure how many people there are. When you feel up to exploring you’ll find that this is not the most populated of the ships.”
The lethargic feeling that overcame Genos was frustrating. He knew that most of it was shock and his current run-down state-but during the war he had been able to go days without powering down.
“There is more than one ship?”
“Why yes. There’s an entire fleet of them. This is just Ship Z.”
Genos’s sensors had his energy level at just nine percent of full capacity. He scanned the read-outs in his HUD drowsily and gave another meaningless yawn. At nine percent he barely had the strength to power up a single incendiary weapon.
“I don’t think my Core is distributing energy correctly. It drained too quickly Dr. Kuseno.”
“I’ll look into it my boy. I promise you that the next time you wake up you’ll be in far better condition. Do I have your permission to put you in stasis now?”
Genos couldn’t bring himself to say yes but gave a curt nod. Thoughts of monsters, ships and space swirled around his brain as his systems began to shut down. Despite the immensity and importance of everything he had learned his last conscious thought was something entirely inconsequential. He thought of warm hands picking him up out of a cold, lonely box.
Than it was only darkness and dreams of a war-torn field.