Opportunity
an excerpt

Kiel is a typical case of over-active netjunkie. Plugged into the computer via the cyberport embedded in his temple, his body had long ago given over to autonomous action. He was, however, a rather self aware junkie. He had taken to ‘waking up’ every forty eight hours. This was after a bout with muscle atrophy that made it impossible for him to walk on his own for several days.
His computer was set to count down. Two minutes, thirty three seconds… thirty two seconds. The nutri-line’s supply was dripping low, the catheter bag growing full. One minute, fifteen seconds…fourteen. Lights shimmered on the thin hardbox of his computer as it stirred for more direct interaction. The embedded AI enjoyed the moments of lucidity from its creator. It was preparing a particularly enthusiastic alarm for today’s awakening.
Thirty seconds… twenty-nine…twenty-eight. His body had slowly started to integrate these wakings into its normal routine, his nerves twitching in a preemptive effort to decrease the effects of sitting still far longer than what was natural.
Ten…nine… His breathing began to shallow, the AI started the program to ease his transition from deep embedding to real world interaction. Three…two... his eyes finally closed fully, tearing up as they re-established lubrication. One.
The screen came alive with visuals of gunfire, firecrackers, explosive rockets and large building demolitions. His speakers rocked with the thundering sounds, his body jerked at the impulses being shoved through his semi-conscious brain. He thrashed, one hand planting knuckles first in the plaster.
“Son of a…” his other hand snapped out and slapped at the space bar on the little used keyboard until the alarm ceased. “Allie, what the fuck?!”
“Good morning Kiel.” The AI’s voice was calm, almost chipper about the rude awakening.
“Ugh.” He moved lethargically, twisting in an awkward stretch that consumed what little space there was in his corner. His knees popped with the effort, snapping their displeasure of having been so little used for so long, his back ached at the poor positioning. His body never failed to express its displeasure for his chosen occupation “You sure it was forty eight, Allie?”
“Absolutely certain, unless you somehow managed to slip in and modify my calendar while you were off adventuring in cyberland.”
“Why would I do that?” He groaned and shakily drew out the various implements plugged into his body, the cyberjack, the nutria-line in a splash of diluted blood, all things removed with practiced, slow precision.
“For more time, I would assume. I have missed your riveting conversations. Anymore questions before I update you on news?”
“No, no… I need some water.” It took several moments propped in the corner for his legs to acknowledge their intended purpose, but he was soon teetering toward the small kitchen.
“Opportunity has launched a full-scale search for their missing Military hybrid. Funny how they can lose such a high-security model.”
“Wait,” the rest of the question paused as he gulped the dingy tap water from the even dingier glass. “What was that?”
“Opportunity Corporation had been doing research on a military-grade bio-mechanical hybrid. It was supposed to be the ultimate in the field, completely self-sustaining. Shortly after you plugged in two days ago, it went missing. The chief-programmer, Joseph Ratlin, is missing as well. There is little doubt that Programmer Ratlin ran off with the hybrid, though there is little evidence to support this theory. The video cameras in the sector were deactivated for a period of approximately three minutes, enough time for a high-speed escape from the facility via emergency routes. It was noted that one of the emergency door’s security had been breached approximately the same time as the escape.”
“Holy shit,” he murmured quietly in the middle of the AI’s accounting.
“The hybrid was not fully skinned upon escape, but the catalyst had been applied and so it is theorized that the full skinning process is now complete. It was a female model, HIN 50342. It is unknown if the model is still burned with the HIN or if it has somehow been stricken from the model’s body. There have been no reports of this HIN showing up anywhere in the city.”
“And so they think this Ratlin fellow ran off with her, some sort of illicit affair with his work?”
“That is the official theory. Unofficially there have been claims by a terrorist organization called ‘Freedom’ that their leader, a man they call Gloves, is responsible for the theft.”
“That’s a hell of a claim. I’m sure the suits are crawling over the net looking for leads. I’m surprised I didn’t run into any of them.”
“Be glad that you didn’t, Kiel. They are running a lot of Ice through the lines; since the hybrid’s disappearance the cases of cyber-burnouts have increased nearly threefold.”
“And there’s no retaliation?”
“From whom? The Corporations are actually working together on this. There is no suspicion of Pactin or Syla involvement. They stand to lose too much should this hybrid stay loose. It is a very sophisticated model capable of overcoming much of the Corporate armies, as well as taking over the Corporations itself. It is highly tuned to the usage and programming of artificial intelligences. Our own community is having mixed sentiments about this hybrid. The junkie chatter has shown an extreme amount of suspicion for the corporations, outrage at the tactics used in their search for it. There have been talks of trying to retaliate against the corporations for using that much lethal and semi-lethal programming.”
“But it’s rather pointless. Well, what do you think about it?”
“I think it’s about time that the Corporations finally come to a balance with their research and constant strive to merge human and machine. We are far too different to coexist peacefully within a single body.”
“Cyber implants?”
“When kept in small quantities, or rather simple forms, implants are so benign as to be inconsequential. The merging of human minds and artificial intelligences is too new to be fully documented. There are rumors of AI that have completely overridden its former host. There are some in high-mind channels that claim to be such cases.”
“But this should be nothing, right? I mean,” Kiel opened the fridge, staring over the contents with an eye only for the act of eating itself. He plucked out a block of half-molded cheese and set to cutting it into edible portions. “Hybrids have never been able to sustain themselves for longer than a few weeks without needing immediate, intensive repairs.”
“Opportunity claims that this one is the culmination of all the work of its Research and Development department. This one model is, supposedly, capable of self-sustaining, self-repairing if necessary, and can blend seamlessly into the human population. The period in which it went missing was before they could embed it with any sort of identification marks to differentiate it from the rest of the population.”
The odd-shaped cheese blob found its way to Kiel’s mouth, mushed between molars as he gazed out over the dimness of his apartment, vision lost somewhere between eyes and wall. “So… what’s the reward?”
“What?”
“Well, if this is such a big deal to them, they’re sure to be offering a reward for finding this hybrid.”
“You are not seriously considering chasing it, are you?”
“Of course I am. If you haven’t noticed, I’m getting rather broken over here. I haven’t pulled a good lead of the net in weeks. Pretty soon I’m going to have to start scrapping you just to make sure I can eat.”
“Ten million credits, five-hundred thousand ration units, and possible employment in Opportunity Central.”
Kiel whistled low, bits of yellow cheese sputtering out between pursed lips. The studio was occupied with the sound of computer function, fans whirring, processors working at countless strings of information. This was the nearest to silent it ever was in here, broken only by Kiel’s bare feet slapping against the linoleum of the kitchen.
“Opporutnity’s Central Army Elite are already pursuing the hybrid, Kiel.”
“Yah, but they won’t be able to get in with Freedom. They’re too obvious.”
“Kiel…”
“You know it’s a great idea!” He shuffled across the excuse for a living room, kicking through piles of clothes that would trip him up on the way to the small bathroom. The yellow-stain of the light made the junkie look even sicklier.
“Kiel, you’ll get yourself killed.”
“So at least it’ll be interesting before I do.”