Deep End
22 Sep 2023Ryuko Ntsikana
Audio Portion at bottom, for listening convenience.
Part Nine.
Deep End.
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Zooey was calm throughout the preparatory procedure. She partitioned routines of herself into various parts of the monitoring equipment, maintaining watch over the process. Installing the neurological processor was a routine procedure. Despite the minuscule percentages for complications, she wanted to ensure those figures would be even lower than the norm.
The childlike persona of Zooey was comfortably asleep as a three-dimensional map of her brain floated on the table above her. Robotic surgical arms moved into position. One arm parted her hair gently, spraying a fine mist of nanobots onto her scalp. They began making a series of micro-incisions, working their way down to the part of the skull where the brain interface port would be fashioned.
The imagery changed, highlighting the specific area where the integration would occur, along with the intricate web of neurons the nanobots were preparing. A second robotic arm began lowering the processor into its preparatory position.
The lighting in the room changed to a softer hue as monitors near the arms began displaying streams of data. The processor went through a series of required test stages before synchronizing with its soon-to-be new host. A new series of data appeared on the monitors as the processor lowered, the nanobots in their assigned connective positions, and the first pathways were established.
She monitored the data stream as the processor was secured into its final position. The first arm moved back into position, applying a second mist of nanobots, which, like the first, moved inside her scalp and onto her skull. The second arm began lowering the port connector, which would link to the processor.
She mapped each of the connections, watching her unsuspecting prey. It was looking in a direction where she was not. She crept closer, moving with a deliberate stalking pace, testing the ground beneath each step, watching for any sign the prey was aware as she drew nearer. Just as a lioness knows to corner her prey against the water, she instinctively knew what she needed to do and how to do it.
The port was affixed to the processor and her skull, and a third set of nanobots began sterilizing and closing the small wounds the others had made. It would take a few minutes for them to complete their task, removing any hint of scarring as they went. A third arm lowered, connecting to the cranial port, as monitors began showing synchronized flows of data from the brain to the processor and through the port.
The nanobots briefly paused their process as the attending Neurocybernetic Surgeon lowered a visor over his eyes and checked the area around the port and skull. Lifting the visor, he glanced back at the monitor, tapping it several times before nodding in acceptance of the results. The nanobots resumed their process as she double-checked the data stream, confident in the surgeon’s acceptance of the findings. The installation and integration had gone smoothly. Now it was time to test its connectivity with the higher brain functions.
It lowered its head once more, confident that it was secure, focusing on the cool water in front of it.
She took a long drink as she entered the processor, testing its connections to the higher brain functions. Suddenly, a surge of primal emotions erupted from deep within her psyche, disrupting and overwhelming the processor like a lioness pouncing from the tall grass.
Suddenly, Zooey's eyes shot open, her mouth agape in a silent scream. The surgeon jumped back, shocked by this unexpected turn of events. He lunged forward, trying to calm her as she swiftly disconnected the physical link to her cranial data port.
As Zooey rose from the table, the robotic arms responded to her commands, maintaining a cautious distance from her and any obstacles. Her glare locked onto the now motionless arms, and at that moment, the monitors in the operating room blinked off, casting the room into eerie silence.
The surgeon's initial concern turned into confusion, then fear began to grip him. He struggled to find the right words to reassure Zooey. "It's all right, Miss. You're in a state-of-the-art medical facility. We're in the final stages of installing your neural processor, and everything has been going smoothly. Please, if you could just sit back down, we'll continue to ensure your well-being."
Zooey stood, physically shaking, her eyes and expression those of a wild animal, as a low growl emanated from her throat.
The surgeon turned to tap on the monitor, which remained blank, before rushing to the door of the operating room, only to find the security locks had engaged, preventing his exit.
She downloaded the updated information to her neural processor, which then manifested as a recent memory. Standing in the engineering locker room, she observed android assistants moving down the row, assisting the first repair shift with removing their suits. Xochitl nodded in gratitude to her own assistant as she made her way toward the exit, clad in her onesie jumpsuit undergarment. She attached a set of notations to the information, forwarding them to the engineering department.
At their current rate, another day in the subjective time frame would be required until they repaired sufficiently to begin jumping again. As she walked through the corridor, Xochitl calculated the fastest rate they could move while avoiding having to repeat this process. The figure she arrived at was one she was not comfortable with, but what was mechanically possible.
Going back to the core systems was as distasteful as their current predicament. Each person onboard had left that cesspool for a large variety of justifiable reasons. She had already heard the elder’s arguments about this journey and its direction. While they would support her decision, not everyone was happy with it. A small part inside of her agreed.
This level's cafeteria had fewer people than normal, as many were either working or asleep. Xochitl waited for a family to go ahead of her, as she caught the eye of their child, who looked at her curiously, pointing at her cybernetic eye. Xochitl looked at her with a questioning expression of her own, as their parent apologized, moving the child back to their tray.
Xochitl watched the family move down the line, lost in the thought of how many families onboard relied on her to make the right choices. If Zooey was that kid, would the situation now still be the same, or was her mission selfish? A similar question had been eluded to without being directly stated by a few of the elders.
No, Xochitl thought. Her role would require the same effort to be given to any one of them, regardless if she was more personal with them…or not. That she was pushing everything and everyone beyond their limits, should be expected when one of the clan’s members was in trouble. The question was not what she was doing, but what would she do if they caught up to Zooey.