The Human Trapped in My Head (2/?) (Patreon)

One would think that after an exchange like that, that there’d be an immediate dialogue to figure out exactly what was going on. Yet that didn’t happen. As the voice began muttering out nonsense, as if speaking in a whole other language as he took his damned time before addressing me once again.

“Right, so, this won’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your brain’s barely compatible with my consciousness. I mean, granted, there’s barely anything there.” The voice spoke with a certain dry, sarcastic humor. “If I attempt full integration either you’re gonna die or I’m gonna die, it’s a 50/50 so, yeah, no, as much as I hate the fact that I’m stuck here, I’m not gonna kill an innocent.” There was a certain confidence in that voice, as if it were willing to stick to whatever values and principles it upheld, if that was even possible…

“So…”

“So that means I’m screwed, pal. We can only hold conversations for so long before your brain fries out. That means I’ll be partially operating in your wetware, but mostly operating in the little disc there on your hand.”

I held up my hand, twiddling my fingers as I could hear a sigh from the being inside of me.

“Yes, that hand. That’s my Engramic Storage and Transfer Unit you have embedded in you. Anyways, it does have a limited amount of processing power, and that’s where I’m going to be living for the foreseeable future. But its batteries are practically flat, and it’s gonna need to recharge if I’m to continue living.”

“What’s to say I want you to keep on occupying my head?”

“Because if I die, then you’ll be stuck with a lump of useless metal that’s gonna rot off your hand.” The voice spoke in no uncertain terms, a terse, threatening tone making it clear that it meant what it said. “That, and I can help you.” It quickly added.

“Help?” I chuckled out loudly. “Help?! You’re a voice in my head! Or, this disc, whatever it is!”

“Yeah. Well, I’m a voice that’s been fighting the Viltani’s owners for the past few decades now. I’m a voice that has decades of military experience. I’m a voice that’s been piloting spacecraft for as long as you’ve been alive. And I’m a voice that has technical and engineering know-how that can maybe get you out of here in a pinch. Plus, I’m a voice that can grant you access to a few things that you might’ve thought were duds. I assume you found my ESTU Storage Unit?”

“The box?”

I could hear a loud, dejected, almost disappointed sigh. “Yes. The box. Head over to the box, and grab any device you found in there, except for the canister.”

I paused, allowing myself to crawl over back to the sealed container, grabbing hold of the pistol with my left hand.

“Hey, pal, right hand. Right. I’ll show you something cool.” The voice spoke, as I obliged its requests. I held the weapon in my right hand now, and instead of lying dormant, that same sapphire hue seemed to breathe life into it, as a low charge was noted on a holographic projection that superimposed itself against the weapon. “Yes! Okay, it still works, but it barely has enough charge for one stun blast. Okay, fuck, I feel the low battery coming over me. Hey, pal, you gotta listen carefully alright?”

“I am listening.”

“Alright, so, I need to recharge. If you don’t have a Class II wireless charging station, which, I doubt you have given your a fucking slave, then I’ll be using your body’s metaoblic pathways to charge my () over time. Which isn’t ideal, but, I should be good to go for another half hour talk like this in a few days, or maybe a week. Depends on your caloric intake and use.”

“They practically starve us here.”

“Oh well fuck. Erm, just, just try your best to eat well alright? I need to go into sleep mode now, or else my consciousness is gonna get corrupted. Just make sure to fucking eat, the more you eat the faster I can come back to talk. Alright? Now, for the love of everything that is holy don’t try to remove me. Your fucking bosses know about this, I swear they do. They were just lapdogs and thralls back in my day, but, if they’re still worth their mettle, they wouldn’t hav forgotten about what we did to them back in the war. So please, please please don’t out yourself. Because if you do, you’re gonna have a nice big target painted on your back.” The voice spoke in a rapid-fire pace, clearly attempting to offload all of what it needed to say before its battery ran out.

I was left once more, alone, and in the dark.

The tik tik tiks of distant pickaxes were once more audible, as if my misadventures with the bodiless voice had made it so that they were further away than they were. It was with this that I, in a panicked rush, put the gun back in its container, and closed it back up.

After gathering myself, I began the arduous process of climbing out of the whole, leaping, clawing, and generally just struggling to pull myself out of there. Until finally, I was back up top. Back in the mines that now felt strangely comforting given the absolute alien encounter I just had with that unknown, faceless entity.

I quickly grabbed a nearby tarp, some rocks, and some boulders to section off the area, making it look like a rickety cave-in, to discourage anyone from going down this path. Not that many people came down here anyways, given how it took me some considerable mindless bumbling to get down here in the first place.

It seemed to be nearly punch-out time however as most of the carts had been loaded and carted off. I was thankful that my own cart was already just about full by the time I fell down into that hole. It made gathering the rest of the ore a relatively easy job as I simply gathered as much as I could and began stacking it into my cart. A couple of minutes of back breaking hauling later, and I was done.

The rest of the evening went as expected, with my quota being fulfilled, I went back into the mines instead of returning for a quick break, knowing that my help was needed for a certain avian to get through the day. Indeed, by the time I saw him, he was barely halfway through the cart, and was more than incapable of continuing given how twitchy he’d become.

“Bal, you don’t have to-”

“No. I do. Here, give me your pick.” I reached out for the Avian’s tool as it was warily handed over to me, and I began going to town on a nearby wall.

It was backbreaking, don’t get me wrong. It hurt, especially after what happened earlier in the day. But it wasn’t too bad. The gravity of this world had clearly not weakened me enough to take away my deathworlder’s mantle it seemed, as I made short work of the relatively loose rock in this section of the mine, and eventually managed to just reach Ka’s quota a few minutes before the day was over.

Both of us walked in silence as we pushed the cart out, a single sigh emanating from Ka as he spoke softly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe, you’re right, Bal. Maybe we should just try to make the best of the circumstances we’re in. Because, you know, we still have you.” The Avian smiled weakly my way, to which I once more grimaced, attempting to hide the guilt that was welling within me as I saw a man whose spirits I’d pushed over the edge.

“Ka… listen, there’s something I need to tell you, but, it’s gotta be somewhere else.” I gestured towards the guards stationed at every junction of the mines. “It’s… important, it’s big. Bigger than what we’ve been doing for the past 14 months. It… it could be our… you know what.” I forced a smile to my face as the smaller being seemed to only glower in return.

“You’re just saying that.” Was all he said, a far cry from the usually chatty and colorful character that had been a constant for years…

“No. I’m not. Look at me. Just look at me alright?” I forced the Avian to stare my way as I raised up my right hand, revealing the small disc-like object embedded within.

“Bal, we have to take you to the infirmary, that-!”

“Shh!” I practically whispered out.

“No! No. This… this is big, and we can’t let anyone or anything see this alright? Just, stay silent about this, we’ll talk when things are quieter. And I promise you, this is our new hope.”

A warm smile began to form at the edges of the Ka’s beak as he let out a little chir of approval, reaching to grab what was clearly the last tattered remnants of his tunic that had otherwise been reduced to a side-garment on his loincloth. In one, unceremonious movement, he tore it off, handing it to me as he spoke with a strong sense of solidarity. “I don’t know what the hell that thing is, but you need to cover it up.”

I took the cloth holding it tight in my hand as I nodded firmly.

When there was little in the way of personal effects remaining from your past life, when there was little to anything left to your name, even a simple piece of cloth was a far bigger gesture than anyone might realize.

“I’ll make sure to make it worth your while, Ka. I’ll make darned sure of it. Trust me on this one.” I spoke as I quickly wrapped up my right hand, tying it up in a neat knot, implying some sort of minor injury. Something that no slave handler or guard would really care about. If it meant one less injury for the infirmary, then that was good enough for them.