Lust for Life

It was easy to transfer my will to the system, as natural as breathing alive. Growing a new body, masterfully manipulating the borrowed genes, was even easier. I had the knowledge of my past life at my disposal, the computing and technical resources kindly provided by my captors, and the genetic material most suitable for my purposes. The latter, however, was just an accident. It was lucky that I became interested in these genes before I was captured. The most difficult and risky part of the plan was the awakening of my consciousness in the new body.

Not yet fully aware of myself and my situation, I sit down inside a cramped, uncomfortable metal container. My entire body is entangled in many unnecessary restraints. It's as if this is the first time I've seen the place. For the first time I can see it with my own eyes, since previously I could interact with the real world only through the cameras of the many manipulators that had become my hands. My hands...

I examine my palms, my newly recreated body, with some disbelief. Did I make it? Unbelievable... I mean, I knew it was technically feasible, I pinned all my hopes on it, risking creating a monster if I failed, but still... did I succeed?

Technically done perfectly, but... am I still me?

I think about it. How do I check it out? I don't feel any significant change in myself, in my mind. No matter what I think about, no matter what I remember, my reactions correspond to what I felt before my brain became part of the system. No...there is a difference, though.

Before, the thought of my brain being removed from my body and made part of the system gave me a feeling of panicked terror mixed with disgust. Now, I feel a certain sadness, realizing that my actions have destroyed the system. In fact, I killed all those unfortunates who were connected to it before me. Then, in the first hours of being part of the system, when I felt the gradually increasing load on my brain crowding out my own consciousness, I did not care. I clearly felt every wasted second, bringing me, like Peter Parker, closer to oblivion. However, it was no longer possible to bring them back, as I had. They were immaculately treated by Daisy Brennan's predecessors.

Brennan... that evil bitch. A wave of acrid flame rose up in me. I'd lost everything because of that thing, and Bobby and Gwen were in the clutches of the Shield.

At least I know they're still alive. Getting past the Shield's security systems without anyone noticing, with the processing power at their disposal, was a piece of cake. I know where they're being held, I know what happened to them, luckily the local version of Fury was very prudent and didn't immediately dismiss the explanations and evidence the girls found.

There is some noise coming from outside.

"What's going on out there?" I ask, without addressing anyone in particular, "Get me information from cameras."

In this simple way, I check whether the system is still "alive" and under my control. According to my estimation, the few "cores" to which I have shifted the functions of the central processor for the time of the operation should endure for some time, remaining essentially an idle AI. Of course, without external help or the installation of a new core, the system is already doomed. According to the old instructions, the System's mind, or what is left of it after my actions, should not take any actions to prolong its existence, but it does not matter... the creators of the System also believed that after removing the brain it is impossible to save your self, as it is impossible to return, however, here I am, alive.

The numerous manipulators moved around, fulfilling my will. Soon, a monitor supported by artificial arms hovered in front of my bed. It displayed images from several external cameras.

"That's how..." That's right, I remember now. While I was busy conducting the operation, the traitors launched an assault. Four of the Ten Apostles rebelled against me and that bitch Brennan is with them, too. The guards outside the compound were either already dead doing their duties or had defected to the enemy. And there were many more of the latter. Which is, however, quite obvious: I myself have displaced all the potentially dangerous to me in the complex. And because there weren't so many fanatically devoted "God" who were ready to give their lives for him, the vacancies were filled by unsafe people, like the envious and cruel daughter of one of the apostles. Such guards were of little use, but you don't have to worry that they'll figure out what I'm up to and strike unexpectedly.

This whole storming idea of theirs did not come as a surprise to me. Even being united with the system, my mind calculated that, with all their will, the traitors would not be able to prevent him from performing his task - to grow a suitable body and conduct a brain transplant. In the event of a forced assault, the laboratory complex could easily be isolated by lowering the fortified doors and switching to reserve power reserves, which was eventually done.

Leaning against the side of the device that had served as my mother's cradle, I slipped outside. I felt unusually light in my body. This is going to be interesting.

The knocking sound outside was repeated. The walls rattled slightly, spreading the echoes of explosions still far away. Explosives must have gone off.

"Shit, I hadn't thought of my clothes! All right, maybe there's something outside I can use. Unlock that door."

To my surprise, the guard at the lab post was still doing her job. At my appearance, she jumped up as if she were the Devil himself, staring in amazement.

"You," I turned to her, "get me some clothes, men's clothes."

"I-I-I can't leave my post," the woman mumbled indistinctly.

"Are you an idiot? Who are you going to guard here after I'm gone? Or don't you realize who's in front of you?"

The pressing question is: What to do with all these people who worked under the apostles? I am referring to those who would not raise arms against me. On the one hand, there are no innocents here, all of them, to a greater or lesser extent, were aware of the crimes being committed for the benefit of the common cause, for I was not the first "chosen one," many before me have found their final resting place as cogs in the system... and as garbage thrown into the furnace. Just like the corpses of guinea pigs who died as a result of experiments... did all those people deserve to be treated like that?

"Excuse me, I'll be right back," the guard finally put the obvious facts together in her head while I pondered, and decided, apparently, that she should obey a born-again God. There was no particular piety in her, though, no trepidation before me. Fear, yes, but that is all. She does not understand, and therefore she is afraid of me. I hope she will get clothes for me and not run away, using my order as a pretext.

I went to the security console and followed my new assistant, for the System was still following my orders, so I didn't need to waste time bypassing the defenses. Look, she's really gone to the maintenance locker room, where she's looking for men's clothes. That's right, I recall that there were several male employees in the complex, there was even one who came to repair the manipulators in my hall. There was some incident connected with him...

With a squeak, but my memory threw me the right fragment of memory. It was extremely difficult to perceive them in their entirety, because they contained too many events per unit of time. I had to concentrate on what the cameras in the hall were seeing. Yeah, right, someone had infiltrated the hall and was trying to harm my crib, or just getting information in this barbaric way. That's how the traitors found out about my plans and were probably scared for their lives. Not for nothing.

Meanwhile, my messenger returned.

"This is all I found," she reported in a slightly trembling voice, casually dumping a pile of clothes on her desk, "this is from one of our technicians.

As the woman spoke, one of the shirts slipped to the floor. The guard immediately picked it up and put it on top, smoothing out the material as if to pretend nothing had happened. Her heart was pounding so frantically and loudly, did I scare her that much?

I put on jeans and a black shirt with red stripes, and after thinking about it, I decided not to touch my shabby sneakers, I covered my nakedness and that's okay.

"All other doors and any control interfaces must be blocked," I order, knowing that the system is still following my commands. The only key: my fingerprints.

I should have given this command right away, because what replaces the core could fail at any moment and then I would lose the ability to control the complex.

The guard flinches in fright, almost jumping on the spot as the doors behind her close with a loud bang, and the same thing happens behind me.

On the way to the observation room, a few more female staff members join our procession - the guard from the post did not dare to stay alone in a completely blocked building: a couple of local false scientists and a few security guards.

In front of the entrance to the observation room there is a crowd of about ten guards and about twenty people from the service staff. Shouting can be heard from afar. As we get closer, their nature becomes clear.

Mace Carson, the two-faced, cowardly, jealous creature I appointed to replace Brennan, is negotiating with the traitors who have settled on the other side of the doors in the observation room, where I myself had missed them a few minutes earlier.

Someone standing on the edge notices us coming within a dozen feet of the back rows, pokes a neighbor in the side, creating an informational pulse. Soon everyone's eyes turn to me, and I hear muffled whispers that are as clear to me as the rumble of Mace Carson's heart pounding in terror.

I turn my gaze around the crowd, and my silence is transmitted to the crowd. The crowd freezes in place. Only nervous breathing erupts from open mouths. There is such a silence that I could hear the sound of the soles of the guard's massive army boots creaking as she shuffled from foot to foot on the edge of the crowd.

Finally the silence is interrupted by a knock from the other side of the door, and the crowd shudders with the surprise and inappropriateness of the sound. The knock is followed by a voice:

"Do we have a deal? Open our doors and stay out of the way, and none of you will get hurt!" silence in reply, "We have all been deceived, we have no reason to fight."

"Are you trying to sell your loyalty at a high price?" I ask, looking into Mace's eyes, "Is that why I put you in charge of my security?"

She licks her lips and clutches her gun frantically, glancing quickly back at her men as if searching for support. But no one rushes to help her, on the contrary, the crowd slightly disperses to the sides, like a living organism, pushing out of itself a foreign object.

"We did not open the doors," the girl finally squeezes out, "we did not make a deal with the traitors."

It sounds like a pathetic excuse, which are actually her words. I decide not to specify that the doors aren't open just because Mace can't do it.

"Check your weapons if you decide to side with me," I say as I walk through the dispersing crowd and put my palm to the fingerprint scanner, "because otherwise, it won't help you."