Chapter 11
Sleep came faster than I expected for being in a room with seven strangers, though I woke often, my paranoia keeping me restless.
Jacob technically wasn’t a stranger, but he sure as hell wasn’t a friend, either.
I caught him watching me a few times, probably because he didn’t trust me any more than I trusted him, but I still didn’t like it.
The homeless shelter here was nicer than the ones I’d seen in Dreswick, and much less busy.
The ones upstairs hit capacity by five p.m., leaving anyone coming after that to sleep on the streets.
I’d been fortunate to never need to use one of those shelters.
The stories of assaults, rapes, and general violence—not to mention the diseases—were enough to make anyone shiver.
But they were better than the streets. Those on the streets after dark ran a high chance of disappearing by morning.
I went to bed on an empty stomach since the shelter only provided breakfast. It would take a while to get used to eating twelve hours earlier than my usual routine.
Even famished and with my stomach growling loud enough for anyone in the room to hear, my last thoughts before sleep claimed me were of Grandmother and Nolan.
She could take care of herself—I only hoped that she got herself some common sense and hid before the enforcers showed up.
I was an idiot to put her in danger. I realized that I was very good at being an idiot. If I had even half a brain, Grandmother wouldn’t be in danger and Nolan wouldn’t be gone.
I rolled toward the wall and whispered quietly enough no one else could hear. “Byte, I don’t suppose you can help me track down Nolan, can you?”
With my latest upgrade, I can now access several beneficial networks, including the amp-link, a data sharing network designed purely for use by amps. I will access it to see if his details are registered in any system.
“Thanks,” I said, then added, “By the way, thanks for fixing the cough.” So far, that was the only perk the amp had brought with it. Usually, when I lay down, I’d cough for an hour before falling asleep.
Repairing our body benefits us both.
However, it will require significant cellular replication to complete all repairs.
You were in exceptionally poor health for being thirty-four years old.
I am currently masking what I haven’t yet repaired, which is using thirteen percent of my processing focus.
The mask dampens the urge to cough and instructs the white blood cells to clear the pleurisy.
In roughly eleven days, the mask will no longer be necessary as our lungs will be fully repaired with healthy cells.
“And the clinic said there was no fix for pulmonary fibrosis, not even with bionanites.”
The clinic does not have me. Bionanites have highly simplistic designs and haven’t been encoded to support diseased cells, only injuries to otherwise healthy cells.
Your cells are severely damaged. They no longer have the capability to replicate to form healthy tissue.
Therefore, I am replicating my own cells and instructing them to behave how human lung cells should behave.
“Wait, you’re replicating inside me?”
“What’s that?” someone asked from several beds down.
I mumbled and pretended to be asleep.
Of course. It is necessary to keep us alive, and it’s a natural part of our fusion.
“But I didn’t sign up to be filled with whatever type of nanites you’re filling me up with.”
My cells are biotechnological in nature, while nanites are technological in nature. I am replacing your faulty cells with my biotechnological cells. They do an exceptional job at mimicking human cells, more or less.
“ More or less? ”
Regardless of any side effects that may arise, replication is far superior to leaving the damaged cells in place—they are serving no purpose to either of us.
“It sounds like you’re turning me into a cyborg.
” No wonder Softbiotics was looking for it—I was now convinced that was why they were after me, and not because I saw the enforcers kill that old woman.
My skin itched at the thought of techno-bits swimming around inside me.
I took a deep breath, but nothing felt unnatural about it.
Then I got wondering about what else inside me Byte was messing with, and I uncomfortably adjusted my crotch.
Why is your heart rate and blood pressure elevating?
“Because I’ve got a Byte inside me.”
You are very lucky we were integrated. According to my estimates, you had fewer than four years remaining in your natural lifespan before we joined.
“Sounds about right. But how much of me is me now?” A part of me didn’t want to know the answer. As long as I pretended Byte was just a tiny piece of tech in my head, I could almost forget that it was doing stuff to the rest of my body.
That is not a simple answer. My cells ingest your cells for the matter necessary for me to replicate, so if you disregard the evolution of the cells, essentially you still contain roughly the same amount of you that you had prior to our integration.
“You’re eating my cells?” I shivered, even more uncomfortable than a few seconds earlier.
Of course. Replication requires resources.
My stomach roiled. “Exactly how much of my body have you eaten already?”
Only eight-point-one percent. Upgrades allow for faster replication and improvement, so I am pushing out upgrades as quickly as feasible.
I almost sat up but forced myself to continue to feign sleep. “No, wait. Stop replicating.”
That would be foolish. The more fused we are, the more effective we are.
“Just stop upgrading until I get out of this current mess and can get my shit figured out.”
You do not understand how fusion works. I will happily explain the logic of that with you later. While we have been conversing, I accessed the amp-link and have identified a man named Nolan Brynn who volunteered for beta testing in the special projects division of Softbiotics.
I blew out a breath, damn near exasperated. “I knew that already. Tell me where he is. Wait, tell me he’s okay first.”
I am attempting to access the secure Softbiotics sys?—
Someone dumped a bucket of lava directly on my brain followed by an electronic screeching sound that emanated from within my own head.
I jerked so hard that I tumbled off my cot.
I lay on the floor, clutching my head. “Byte!” But there was no response from my amp.
After several eternal seconds, the pain and sound deadened, leaving me cold and damn near lifeless.
I couldn’t even open my eyes when I felt a hand on me. “Another upgrade?”
It was Jacob’s voice.
I couldn’t shake my head. I couldn’t even move. During an upgrade, I felt like I’d worked five shifts in a row with no break. This felt like someone poured battery acid on my insides. “Something else.” I could barely get out the words through my clenched jaw. Even working my mouth was too much.
I remained conscious, but I didn’t know how. There was a hole in my brain where Byte should be, and I realized that even when Byte was upgrading, I’d always felt its presence, if even subliminally. Now, though… there was nothing.
“Tell us what you need, buddy,” someone said.
I didn’t know, so I didn’t bother replying. I lay there, a lump of mud on the floor.
“Is he gonna die?” someone else asked.
“How should I know? Do I look like a doctor?” Jacob replied.
“Well, you brought him here. Think he’s got something contagious? Are we gonna get sick?”
“He ain’t sick. He just ain’t right in the head,” Jacob said.
I vaguely heard the door open. “There he is. You sewer rats step back and put your hands on the wall. Mind your own business, and you’ll live another day.”
Evidently, these guys weren’t good at following orders because someone fired a blaster, and shouts and sounds of movement ensued.
There was yelling, but the noise and shooting made any words impossible to make out.
Someone fell on me. The dead weight was suffocating, but I had no strength to roll free.
As I struggled to find air, I realized I was about to die in the most embarrassing way imaginable.
I tried to move, but I couldn’t even flex my pinky finger.
Whatever Byte had done to my body really screwed me up when the amp wasn’t around.
What happened? Had it crashed? Do amps even crash?
Was it doing some sort of mega-upgrade? I assumed not since it tended to warn me about those sorts of things. But something had happened.
The body on top of me was cleared, and I sucked in fresh air. I realized then the room was quiet. The fighting had stopped. The question was, who won?
“Take him to the safe room. I’ll let Key know,” Jacob announced.
Relief. I might not have trusted Jacob, but when it came to either the devil I knew or the one I didn’t, I’d go with the one I knew nine times out of ten.
I felt hands lift me for the second time in a matter of a couple of hours.
“Take the back way,” Jacob added.
My feet dragged along the floor. At some point, I saw light at the end of the tunnel—literally—and decided this was it. And then I lost consciousness.