Cerebral Exchange :: Chapter 11 :: FULFILLMENT (Patreon)

“HexCorp Drone #8533 Deactivate.”

Doremy blinked back into consciousness for the second time that day. At least, she assumed it was still the same day.

Groggily, she peered around yet another new environment that she’d been awoken into. It turns out that not all of HexCorp’s interior design is limited to sterile, glaring white panels. For this area, the very creative drones at the HexCorp Aesthetics Dept had gone for an unwelcoming, industrial look instead. How inspiring.

Let’s see, Doremy thought to herself, do we have any body restraints? Check. She found herself suspended by heavy, metallic clamps that were sealed around her hands and feet and forcing her body to spread into an ‘X’ position. How about a conveyor belt? She wearily turned her gaze down and, yep, that was there too, humming in wait underneath her. What a surprise! Such originality! If HexCorp drones were actually paid a salary, then she’d be recommending the design team for a pay rise.

It was pretty obvious what was about to happen. The conveyor belt drew a beeline before her through a gloomy, mechanical corridor, all the way up to a reinforced steel door with the words ‘HEXCORP CONVERSION CHAMBER’ printed across the front of it. It was the subtle touches like these that really allowed a viewer to understand their circumstances through environmental details rather than exposition.

“Hello? I want to get off the Mxtress’ Wild Ride now, thank you.” Doremy tiredly called out to no one in particular, and the meat grinder of a hallway responded with nothing in kind. There wasn’t a soul in sight – not even a drone she could stare at and berate – but she half suspected that there was someone watching her impending doom with sadistic glee right now. Why else would they have reactivated her before conversion if not to watch her struggle?

Then, with a jolt, the machinery whirred into life. The clamps buzzed with static and readjusted her, completely needlessly, into a slightly more uncomfortable 'X' shaped position. The rotors beneath the conveyors hummed in anticipation, eager to ferry their cargo to the destination ahead at a regulation-adhering speed.

A voice spoke out from an unseen intercom system that ran the length of the corridor. It had a feminine yet indifferent tone, crackling out in an automated fashion. "Systems check... Resource transportation network active and ready. Conversion chamber audio/visual devices booting up for full dronification. All systems are operating as expected. Proceeding with final stages of HexCorp Drone #8533 conversion."

Doremy was trying to play it cool, distracting herself with her own witty internal monologue, but as the conveyors started to turn and began the process of advancing her to her fate, she felt a pit form at the bottom of her stomach. She tried tugging her limbs against the clamps, with as subtle a motion as she could get away with. She didn't want to give whoever was watching the satisfaction of watching her squirm.

“Conversion chamber boot up complete… Opening conversion chamber doors.”

There was a thunk as the mechanical latch unlocked and a dozen iron cogs pulled the heavy doors apart. Steam hissed out as the chamber opened, and Doremy was confronted by a gloomy interior filled with pipes and dimly glowing monitors. A cold sweat took hold of her and her struggles became much more noticeable. Something about seeing that claustrophobic space fast approaching made the reality of her situation come crashing into focus.

“Wait, okay wait! Th-this was a funny joke, hahaha! You really got me! Hello!? Get me the f-...…...” She seized and went stiff at her attempt to speak a word from her restricted vocabulary. It only lasted a moment, but her body gasped back into motion too late as it was channeled through the chamber doors.

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait-”

Just as quickly as they had opened, the doors thudded closed behind her. Doremy was left in darkness, the sounds of the machine muffled by the thick walls that surrounded her. She squinted in the black and tried to make out the objects that practically pressed against her in the tight space, their forms outlined by the light from the idle monitors.

The silence clung to the air, leaving her with just the sound of her breathing. Everywhere she looked, the machinery was still, as if in waiting. Just as she thought that the terror might be subsumed by boredom, the automated voice spoke again; only now, it spoke as though it were mere inches away from her ear. “Loading configuration status… HexCorp DroneOS partition detected. Checking ID… Drone #8533 confirmed entity within the chamber. Drone is scheduled for full HexCorp drone conversion. Executing full dronification program...”

If there was a survey at the end of the HexCorp dronification procedure and one of the questions asked ‘How did you find your dronification experience?’, Doremy would have been inclined to answer that it was akin to being dropped into a pool filled with ice. The monitors flooded the chamber with such an all-consuming light so suddenly that it was as though Doremy had been teleported to a different area entirely. But even as it dazzled her senses and left her reeling, she found she didn’t need to blink or squint at all. So brilliant was the lighting that she could no longer even make out the pipes or walls around her, yet neither could she look away.

The automated voice continued to speak, growing softer in its tone as it whispered into her ear, but none of the words were making any sense. Disorientated, she kept her head up and focused on the white space. It was like the opposite of looking into a void; it was eerily comforting and inviting in a way that Doremy knew it shouldn’t be. She should be protesting, refuting this experience, denying its effect on her – but she simply couldn’t form the internal sentences to put those thoughts into action.

“Welcome to HexCorp.” She could make those words out, at least. The voice, it was welcoming her, beckoning her to travel deeper into the white space. Travel? Using your feet, drone #8533. Right, of course. She stepped forward and, in a daze, looked down at her feet. There were no more restraints around her body, nothing to hold her back from navigating this glaring abyss. She tentatively took more steps forward, somehow feeling warmer and more relaxed with each one. Wasn’t she bound up? Wasn’t she in a small chamber? How did this make any sense, as she staggered forward, in the direction that the voice guided her to.

Wasn’t she supposed to be resisting this?

“You are welcome here.” Right, of course, she was welcome here. Doremy giggled awkwardly: she found that the more she didn’t bother listening to the voice, the more it slipped inside of her head anyway. It was as though letting her mind switch off just made things easier for her, so that something else could take control. Maybe she was meant to be resisting this, but every time she thought that she found it so calming to just forget that she had wanted to fight back. It was like trying to break free just made the binds around her more snug and inviting.

Break free? Free from what? She was being invited to become a part of something wonderful. Thinking in those terms was such a cynical way to view what she was being turned into. If anything, becoming a part of this was freedom. Freedom from thought. It’s so much easier not to think.

She breathed in slowly. A deep, relaxing breath of exactly 5.5 seconds, as though it were being guided. In and out. The clammy air of the chamber had gone, replaced with something fresh, with a taste of lavender. It made her feel all the more lightheaded. All the more sleepy, as she stumbled forward. All the harder to think for herself.

“You are #8533.” She was #8533. Numbers are so much more manageable, so much more convenient. So equalising in this world of drones that she was dreamily wandering towards. One foot before the other, again and again. Walking deeper into this place. They would wipe away her confusion and make it all make sense. There was a relief that came with this knowledge. She already knew this was going to be the case, in fact. An earlier program was now completing its takeover. The partition was becoming the whole.

“You are drone #8533.” It was drone #8533. The light around it was beginning to swirl, a mixture of white and pink tones. Its gaze was captivated by the center, that it continued to sleepwalk lazily towards. It felt like something special was going to happen when it arrived, but no matter how deep it went it would never arrive. There would always be distance to go deeper still.

It had become unaware of the world around it, so locked onto that singular point. It could feel its body growing warmer, but it could not comprehend why. It must just be the lovely voice, this lovely experience, it thought, and then immediately disregarded the sensation. It didn’t notice the clothing on its limbs being replaced by a black, glossy sheen. The same material that had coated its stolen drone now smothering its body too. Smoothing over its skin and leaving it featureless. Coating seamlessly over every curve as it molded the latest addition to the inventory in the same fashion as all the others who had been submitted to the chamber.

“It is drone #8533.” It is drone #8533.

“It is part of the HexCorp Hive.” It is part of the HexCorp Hive.

No other thoughts filled its head but those that were entered into it. Every mantra became part of its defining logic as DroneOS became its mind’s predominant operating system. It obeys the Hive. It obeys the Hive Mxtress.

For a moment, its vision was interrupted, as a black bar descended over it. It felt a click around its neck, a flash of light, and then its pathway into the spiral resumed. All around it, its new HUD was interfacing with the asset, calibrating itself to it, but 8533 paid no attention to that. It had a singular task, like all drones do, and it would only focus on the here and now. Proceed to the center of the spiral, that was all it needed to do, an order its body and mind were compelled to obey. All other thoughts and emotions that contradicted this goal had been discarded, they were unnecessary in the completion of its objectives. The pressure of a helmet now encapsulating its head had no impact on its ability to obey; if anything, it only aided it in removing all potential distractions. Obey Hexcorp. It is drone #8533. It obeys the Hive. It obeys the Hive Mxtress.

“Join the Hive.”

The chamber doors opened with a hiss of steam, and a HexCorp drone stepped out purposefully on its heels and onto the metallic flooring. It had been assigned a storage pod for recharging on floor -23 of the HexCorp R&D Department main building. A map of its Hive was displayed on its HUD, as well as a holographic arrow overlaid on the floor for it to follow. It marched forwards and into an empty space in line with the other marching HexCorp drones, its movement and pacing mirroring theirs. It is drone #8533. It obeys the Hive.