Chapter Nineteen – Humanity Degraded

Chapter Nineteen – Humanity Degraded​

“When cybernetic replacements became more common, there was this prevalent fear that they would make a person less human.

The notion that having a bionic heart or a mechanical hand makes a person any less greedy, vain, prideful, and dumb, is entirely wrong, of course.”

–Excerpt from a VoidFight Forum post, 2033

***

“So, where are we going?” I asked as we pushed past the entrance into… I guessed it was the Ratways, at least judging by the stencils on the nearest wall.

“Down this passage until that large junction ahead into sludge line 537. It looks like it’s a big tunnel that goes on for… a few kilometres actually. It might be a long walk,” Gomorrah said.

“If I may interject,” Myalis said, speaking through my coms so everyone could hear. “The locals use vehicles to travel across the larger lines, including sludge line 537.”

“Who’s that?” Rac asked.

I heard Franny inhaling. “That was a saint’s companion,” she said with a weird amount of reverence.”

“That’s just Myalis, my AI,” I said.

“ ‘Just’?” Myalis asked.

“She’s very arrogant for a bunch of ones and zeroes,” I added.

Myalis was quiet for a while. “I won’t argue, except to correct you on two mistakes you have made. First, it isn’t arrogance if it is entirely earned. Second, I’m hardly made of something as primitive as binary.”

“Your AI is a lot more vocal than Atyacus,” Gomorrah said. She ducked under a low-hanging pipe, and I did the same right after her.

“You mean Myalis is more interesting than your Atyacus,” I shot back.

The Ratways really deserved their names. The passageway was a long series of corridors, cut apart by large bulkhead doors that were usually left wide open. Each segment was filled with pipes, either vertical along the sides, or straight horizontal pipes that cut across the ceiling. QR labels were slapped onto all of them, though I imagined some of the pipes weren’t being used for much, especially those that looked like they were rusted through.

There was a nice sludge of decomposing detritus in the corners, though I did recognize some of the trash. Cups and straws and brightly coloured boxes from a few fast food joints I knew.

“People ahead.”

I blinked out of my reverie and focused. Gomorrah wouldn’t say something like that for shits and giggles.

I tapped Gomorrah on the shoulder. “Let me check ahead,” I said.

She nodded, then shifted to the side where part of the cement wall that jutted out would cover her a little better. Her flamethrower came up, ready to spray whatever goop she had in there.

Walking carefully, I moved up to the next bulkhead. The door was all metal, and about as thick as my thumb. It had some instructions stickered to it and a complicated wheel lock. I made sure not to touch it as I peeked into the next room over.

It was a larger segment. The ceiling still low, but the room was wider, with cement half-walls spaced out evenly across. There was a bulkhead at the end, but also one to the right, between two cement half-arches that reached the ceiling.

I couldn’t see anyone, but it wasn’t hard to hear the shuffling of cloth and the slow sound of people breathing.

Three of them? No, more than that. Five, with two of them hiding behind one air vent that was rattling loud enough to wake the dead.

I reached under my coat and grabbed my Icarus’ handle. The moment I pulled the launcher out, it would be visible.

“Five dudes,” I said, voice low. I trusted my helmet’s voice dampening, but I wasn’t taking chances. “One to the right, three at the rear, one more to the left, behind that vent thing.”

“Alright,” Gomorrah said. “How do you want to do this?”

“I’ll move in, then foam our two buddies to the left from the back, that way I can take out the next three, then the last two. If I do it right, they’ll never have time to react or figure anything out.”

“Not a terrible plan,” Gomorrah said. She moved up next to me, footfalls light on the cement floor. She had the door between her and the other side. “I’ll move in when it all goes terribly wrong.”

“It’s not going to go terribly wrong,” I said.

Then I stepped in and everything went terribly wrong.

“The air shifted,” one of them said. It was a whisper that I heard repeated from all the others. Shitty headsets, maybe? They were organized enough to have comms, at least.

I started to move to the left, intent on skirting around the edge of the room.

Then one of them tossed something over their barricade, and I crouched down and winced, waiting for the explosion as the thing… thumped to the ground with barely any noise?

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I turned and stared at what looked like a large wet bundle of rolled-up socks. “Huh?” I asked.

Then the bundle started to hiss, and a faint, mostly smoke poured out of it and across the room.