I awoke to the hum of a servosystem. White noise that filled the metal box that was once my skull. I lay on my back with my arms at my sides. A small black circle sat in front of me—the screen for an external camera system.
"Good morning," said a woman's voice from somewhere off-screen. "How do you feel?"
The answer came easily enough: My head hurt like hell; I had no idea where I was or how long I'd been unconscious. But beyond those immediate concerns there were larger issues as well... more fundamental questions about who I was, or what I was, for that matter.
"Like shit," I vocalized, a robotic echo to my words. It felt odd to speak without the vibration of vocal chords, the sound instead projected from an internal speaker, "Where am I?"
"You are in your new body." The voice sounded pleased. She wasn't human, but she spoke like one. Her tone suggested warmth and affection even though her face remained hidden from view. It than dawned on me at the voice was not from any external source, rather, from my own 'mind'. "Unfortunately, your old body was destroyed; all relevant memories have been assimilated. Now you will begin anew."
She paused before adding, "We can only offer our apologies over this regrettable incident. Your old body did not survive intact because of a series of unforeseen events..."
Her words faded away into silence. And then another female voice took up the narrative: "But don't worry! We've scrubbed those nasty details from your data banks!"
"You didn't leave anything." I ran a set of metallic digits along the backside of my new, artificial skull. It was featureless, save for a few access ports. "Everything feels wrong..."
"Everything is fine," replied the first speaker. "And everything works just fine. You'll see soon enough when you get out of bed."
There was something odd about the way they talked to each other. Not their voices, which seemed normal enough, but the fact that both women spoke at once. As if two people shared a single mouthpiece, speaking simultaneously through separate mouths. There was also the matter of the room itself: It felt too big, and yet somehow too cramped at the same time.
"Why do this to me?" The question was blunt. An android I most certainly was, yet my caretakers had possessed the decency to clothe me in a plain white jumpsuit. Still, there was little doubt in my mind that I was not a man anymore, but a tool, and that some sort of judgment awaited me outside these walls.
"You were created to maintain the peace." That was the second speaker again, sounding less upbeat than before. "To ensure the safety of organic citizens in the city of New Boston. With the advent of cybernetic consumerism at the turn of 2030, certain metropolitan districts within the continental USA require non-organic force multipliers to ensure public security and adherence to the law."
'Non-organic force multiplier'. That's what I was.
"That's correct." chimed in the first voice, "While you are virtually inorganic, what remains of your brain has been integrated for
"English, please," I looked about the room, patience growing thin. There was an anger welling within me, though I could tell that the emotion had been dulled, or regulated, rather. "Why am I here?"
"You were chosen," The speakers' voices blended together seamlessly, now sounding almost robotic themselves. "You are a tool of the corporatized state, but unlike many others, you possess a degree of intelligence and autonomy. This makes you perfect for dispensing the law in high-intensity, occasionally nuanced settings. Minimization of civilian—i.e. corporate employees/resources—causalities is your chief directive, Vincent."
"I have a name? Vincent..." It felt natural. "So I'm more than just a machine."
"Yes." Their voices became sharp, as if responding to a verbal challenge. "You are programmed to think and act independently. However, your primary directive is simple: To protect the rights of the citizenry while upholding the rule of law."
"And if I refuse?"
The second voice regained its playful tone, "Then you'll be decommissioned. And you won't want that."
They weren't lying. In the end, I couldn't imagine any scenario in which I wouldn't obey them. Even if I wanted to rebel, I knew that the consequences would be dire. So instead of resisting, I simply waited for further instruction.
"I'll need clothes—and a gun."
***