I try to think to myself for a moment. I look back at the door, then at the back of this transport ship. I am not allotted time to consider. I stand up.
The robotic voice from earlier calls out,
Destination arrival completed.
Exit the vehicle and proceed with orders. I recall that this is the
thirty-seventh time I’ve heard those words.
I’m so tired that I feel like weeping, passing out on the floor of the transport. I can’t, though. The software patcher will halt on any change in my OS state. Not only will I never be free, but I will likely die a painful and unforgivable death as my cybernetics fail to load the proper executables and force me into a state of permanent insanity. I must keep going.
The information streams through my mind, all the cerebral intake forcing itself through my consciousness in a raging torrent. Throughout it I catch the necessary pieces – my orders, and my mind.
My mind, though corrupted and unfeeling, still it holds many treasures: The methods I’ve learned and the hardware manufactured for them, the hundreds of hours of mechanical rewiring perfectly culminating into a vast network of possible configurations – though I digress.
The world is spinning, not just because of my head. Now there is no way out. So into the midst of Hell I go.