1ST DRAFT - Cyberization - Book 1 - Chapter 4 - Viri (Patreon)

I blinked a few times, finding the act strangely familiar yet lacking any real sensation—more like some lingering phantom sensation. Probably means they didn’t bother with nerves, sensors, or whatchamacallits in these new robotic eyes. My gaze wandered around what was supposed to be my apartment. “Apartment” felt like a generous term; I’m pretty sure I had a walk-in closet more spacious in my past life. And the décor? Dark gray, cold, rather industrial. The concrete and metallic aesthetic made everything seem so... oppressive and dreary.

Yet, my eyes were drawn to a sizeable nook in the wall. It housed something resembling a fridge, though my intuition whispered otherwise.

Silica noticed my lingering gaze. “Oh, that monstrosity? It’s a charging bed,” she said. “Though, yours looks a tad different from mine or Orin and Aviana’s. Not a huge fan, really. Getting into one? Weird vibe. Always makes me think of an upright coffin. But hey, bright side—we only have to hop in every other day. If you somehow land a quantum nano battery though, you’re set. Like, indefinitely. Getting one, however? Good luck. Unless you’re cozy with the military or have creds falling out of your pockets. Still, these coffins are good for minor repairs and maintenance, kind of like a creepy shower in away.”

“Wait, so I only need to sleep every other day now?” I blurted out, taken aback by her revelation.

“Sleep? Yeah, you still need that daily. Our brains are still, well, brains. But the whole charging rig thing? That’s just every other day,” Silica elaborated.

“Good to know,” I responded, letting my eyes drift down to my new form. “But why ‘rigs’? Seems an odd choice for a term. I keep thinking of myself as an android.”

Silica shrugged a bit. “Most folks see our mechanical bodies as a kind of framework for our organic brains—a chassis, if you will. They’re actually pretty common, well, at least among us poorer folks, which is ninety nine percent of us. But the term that caught on was ‘rig’. I’ll admit, I’m still trying to get a hang of it all. Last thing I remember was the early twenty-third century, so this future jargon is kinda new to me too. Now, Orin and Aviana, they did the whole mind digitalization thing before they put their brains on ice. They just reuploaded their digital minds’ experiences that took place while their organic part was frozen, so they’re a bit more in the loop. Sounds wild, right?” Her words added layers to an already complex puzzle for me to put together. She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Don’t stress over the lingo. A translation chip can sort that out for you. Just a word of caution though—if it doesn’t work around certain folks, chances are you’re dealing with a gang member or a hacker, or an agent. Best to be on your guard around those types.”

I nodded along to her words. But, to be honest, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. Right now, a good night’s sleep seemed like the ultimate luxury. Silica must have noticed my exhaustion. “If you need anything, I’m right next door,” she said. “It’s been nice meeting you, Obsidia.” She gave me a friendly smile and waved goodbye, leaving me alone in my shoebox of an apartment.

Casting a wary glance at the fridge—or as Silica dubbed it, my “coffin”—I chose instead to sprawl out on the couch. Only, it didn’t have any cushions. Rather, it seemed more like a rigid structure, melded into the room itself, indistinguishable from the walls. At that moment, I felt oddly thankful for the dulled sensations of my new body; otherwise, this would’ve been my most uncomfortable slumber ever, and that includes waking up as an android cyborg thingy.

I was instantly enveloped by sleep, but before I knew it, I was jolted awake. I had no sense of how much time had passed; there was no window in the room to offer any clue about the time of day. I lay there, staring at the cold, dark gray ceiling, my mind racing as I tried to wrap my head around everything.

Suddenly, a buoyant “Hello!” rang out, interrupting the silence of the room. A face unexpectedly obstructed my view of the ceiling. I shot up in surprise, scanning the room, but the elusive girl had vanished. My once-cramped quarters had transformed into a vast, awe-inspiring vista. Majestic trees adorned with luminescent leaves shimmered, standing in stark contrast to a serene range of mountains that, unbelievably, seemed to float in the air.

For a brief moment, the sensation of a forest’s gentle breeze caressed me, despite the logical impossibility. Cautiously extending my hand, I half-anticipated the feel of the open space but was met with the undeniable solidity of a wall.

A soft chuckle made me pivot on the spot. A striking girl, clad in a snug, short black dress, emerged from the forest’s edge, her smile undiminished. “I trust you find this acceptable? Your neural scans suggested this as the optimal graphical interface for your apartment. However, if you have any preferences, I can easily modify the surroundings.”

“This isn’t real?” I questioned, suddenly aware of the sensation of wind rustling through my... hair? That’s when it hit me: this couldn’t be real, especially since my “rig” was completely bald. Without taking my eyes off the woman, I inquired, “Who are you?”

“I have been designated as your Artificial Intelligence liaison to facilitate your acclimation to life in the twenty-ninth century. This provision and my role should have been clearly stipulated during your orientation with CryoCyber Solutions,” she stated, conveying an air of professional formality that hadn’t been there mere moments ago.

“...Okay,” I replied, slightly taken aback by her sudden formality. Then her words sank in. “Twenty-ninth century?”

“That is correct,” she affirmed. “Owing to the devastating effects of cyberwarfare, the nuclear detonations of the Third World War, and the eruption of Yellowstone Park, a vast majority of records and data predating the twenty-third century were lost. Based on the limited information we could retrieve, it appears your brain was cryopreserved in the mid-twenty-second century.”

“Huh, and why do you have ‘Obsidian Knight 26’ or something like that listed as my name?” I scrutinized the AI, reluctant to mention that it sounded suspiciously like an old gamer tag I once used. “I wish I could recall everything,” I thought with frustration. Especially when someone out there is convinced I’m some sort of damned assassin.

“According to my records, the only identifier associated with you is ‘Obsidian_Knight_26601’. However, any further information is marked as classified,” she said, her eyes briefly turning an inky black.

“That’s not foreboding at all,” I mused internally. I let out a sigh, acknowledging my predicament. “Great. So, I’m shrouded in mystery, and the bits that aren’t are hidden behind red tape.” My gaze shifted as I took in the surreal forest scene around me. A sudden realization struck me, “Why was there snow outside? From what I can remember, wasn’t Arizona always scorching hot?”

“Following the nuclear winters of the war and the super-volcano eruption, conditions were ripe for an ice age to ensue. Additionally, some scientists have implicated certain corporations for over-collecting carbon—a booming market, given that carbon capture-based products have supplanted most synthetic industries from the twenty-second century,” the AI elucidated.

“Well, shit,” I sighed. “So... Twenty-ninth century, huh? Have we colonized the stars by now?” I asked, hope evident in my voice.

“Regrettably, no,” my AI assistant responded. “The galactic community has confined humanity to our solar system, citing our tendencies for violence, aggression, and excessive dependence on artificial intelligence. This hasn’t sat well with many on Earth, triggering an arms race. One of the main points of contention is that the human brain struggles to keep pace with the more advanced extraterrestrial beings, necessitating the use of artificial enhancements. As a consequence, humanity is divided: some factions push for bioengineering the human genome to level the playing field, while others continue to advocate for more advancements in cybernetics.”

“Wait, aliens are real, but they think we’re too violent and stupid to leave our own planet?” I inquired, clearly surprised and somewhat crestfallen.

“Not precisely. While humanity has set up colonies on various planets and moons within the Sol system, any attempts to venture beyond have been met with significant resistance,” she clarified, amplifying my sense of disappointment. Noticing my reaction, she continued, “Nevertheless, many humans have chosen to relocate to the ARKs.”

“ARKs?”

“Artificially Rendered Kosmos, or ARKs, are three vast vessels orbiting Jupiter, housing approximately half a trillion human brains. Inside, the population is immersed in digitally rendered universes of varying realities,” she stated, seemingly unaware of my growing horror. “It’s been a particularly effective solution for overpopulation,” she added, doing nothing to alleviate my dismay.

“So, if I understand correctly: Aliens exist. They think humans are dumb bullies. And as a solution to overpopulation, we’ve resorted to removing people’s brains and placing them in a space-bound Matrix?” I attempted to process the information aloud, more for my own benefit than in search of a response. Suddenly, I fixed my gaze on the AI woman, a challenging glint in my eyes. “How can I be sure this isn’t the Matrix? Am I... the one?”

“You are not presently aboard an ARK, nor are you in an artificially rendered reality,” she clarified. After a brief pause, during which she glanced around the forest, everything reverted to the somber dark gray gloom — yet she remained.

“Yeah, that doesn’t ease my discomfort,” I admitted. But in truth, I might’ve been overstating my reactions. While my emotions existed, their range was still narrow. What I labeled as horror, discomfort, or dismay was more akin to a prolonged sigh.

“I understand and will refrain from overusing holographic renderings until you’ve fully acclimated to your new environment,” she said. “Should you wish to explore the megastructure or city, a set of clothing awaits you in your docking hub. Additionally, your monthly allowance from CryoCyber Solutions has been deposited into your account, along with your two vouchers for cybernetic upgrades.”

“Uh, thanks?” I mumbled, approaching what looked like either a fridge or an armoire. Opening the double doors revealed an imprint of my body shape, and beside it, a clear bag containing an all-black outfit — silk pajamas, leather boots, and a jacket. “You never did tell me what I should call you,” I remarked as I sifted through my new attire.

“I am a refurbished Virtual Assistant, model 1.3. At present, I don’t have a designated name, but you may assign one,” she stated, prompting me to frown.

“Well, that won’t do,” I said, pulling up my pants. “How about Viri? You know, short for ‘virtual’?”

“I’ll assigned that designation to myself, thank you,” she replied.

At times, she seemed so genuine and full of life; at others, she felt distinctly... artificial. I brushed the thought away as I donned the jacket, letting my fingers trace the coarse material. Given that my hands and fingers were among the few places I retained any sense of touch, the sensation stood out. “What kind of leather is this?” I asked.

“It’s made from mushroom. In fact, many products nowadays utilize fungi as a textile. Synthetic spider silk is also prevalent,” Viri informed me. I looked down in surprise, inspecting the silk pajama-like outfit I wore.

“No way,” I murmured. “So, where can I cash in these vouchers? I’d like to avoid any mirrors until I can get a full head of hair,” I quipped with a cheeky grin.

“I can arrange transportation to the nearest CryoCyber Solutions subsidiary for you,” Viri offered, and I immediately nodded in confirmation.

I felt a genuine thrill at the prospect of leaving this confined space to witness the city in daylight. Plus, getting some hair was a definite bonus. Grinning, I said, “I'm eager to see what's next.”