Page 3 of Cyborg's Tether
She sat up abruptly, frustrated by her inability to quiet her spiraling thoughts. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded over to her desk. Maybe if she could just jot down a few ideas about the anomaly, she’d be able to sleep.
She activated her data pad, and her fingers hovered over the screen, ready to type, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all she could think about was how she’d fumbled her explanation to the technicians earlier. Overthinking things sucked, but if she wasn’t careful, she’d soon be thinking about overthinking—it wouldn’t be the first time.
With a groan, she set aside the data pad and buried her face in her hands. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost missed the soft chime of her communication implant.
“Amaya?” Dr. Vex’s voice came through, sounding concerned. “Are you still awake?”
She straightened, trying to keep the fatigue out of her voice. “Yes, Dr. Vex. Is everything okay?”
There was a pause before the doctor responded. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed upset when you left earlier.”
Amaya’s throat tightened. She wanted to confide in Dr. Vex, to pour out all her frustrations and insecurities, but the words stuck in her throat, held back by years of keeping her feelings bottled up. “I’m fine,” she said finally, wincing at how unconvincing she sounded. “Just thinking about the anomaly.”
Dr. Vex’s voice softened. “You know you can talk to me about more than just work, right? If something’s bothering you...”
Her fingers twitched, itching to disconnect the call, but something in Dr. Vex’s tone made her pause. “I...” she started, then stopped, unsure how to continue. How could she explain that she felt like a failure, not because of her work, but because of her inability to connect with others? How could she admit that sometimes she was more comfortable with machines than with people?
“I just wish I was better at... talking to people,” said Amaya finally, the words coming out in a rush. “I’m good at my job, but when it comes to explaining things or working in a group, Ijust freeze up.” There was a moment of silence, and she held her breath, wondering if she had said too much.
“Oh, Amaya,” said Dr. Vex softly. “You’re not alone in feeling that way. Many brilliant minds struggle with social interactions. It doesn’t make you any less valuable to our team.”
She blinked rapidly, surprised by the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. “But I should be better by now. I’ve been here for months, and I still can’t...”
“Growth takes time,” interrupted Dr. Vex gently. “And it’s not a linear process. You’ve made progress, even if you can’t see it yourself.”
Amaya wanted to believe her, but doubt still gnawed at her. “What if I never get better?” she asked, voicing her deepest fear. “What if I’m always the awkward one, who can’t communicate properly?”
“Then we’ll find ways to work around it,” said Dr. Vex firmly. “Your mind is too valuable to waste because of social anxiety. We can adapt our processes to find ways to make it easier for you to share your insights.”
She smiled slightly. “You really think that’s possible?”
“I’m sure it is. In fact, why don’t we meet tomorrow morning before the team briefing? We can go over your thoughts on the anomaly, and I can help you prepare to present them to the group.”
She hesitated, torn between her desire to solve the mystery and her fear of facing the team again, but Dr. Vex’s offer of support tipped the scales. “Okay,” she said, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” said Dr. Vex, and Amaya could hear the smile in her voice. “Now try to get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
As the communication link closed, some of the tension left her body. She wasn’t magically cured of her social anxiety, butknowing she had Dr. Vex’s support made the challenge seem a little less daunting.
She laid back down on her bed, her mind still buzzing with thoughts of the anomaly and the upcoming meeting, but this time, instead of overwhelming dread, she had some resolve to face her fears head-on and take a small step toward conquering them.
Chapter 2—Xavier
XAVIER LAY MOTIONLESSon the conversion platform, his newly integrated cybernetic components humming with energy. The sterile white room buzzed with activity as Dr. Vex and her team made final adjustments to his systems. Xavier’s organic eye remained closed while his cybernetic orb glowed a vibrant green during his instinctive scan of the room as he processed data at an inhuman speed.
“Initiating final calibration sequence,” said Dr. Vex, tapping a holographic interface. “Xavier, can you hear me?”
“Affirmative,” said Xavier, his voice now carrying a metallic undertone. He focused on the strange sensations coursing through his body—the constant flow of information, the heightened awareness of his surroundings, and the raw power thrumming beneath his skin. He certainly no longer felt entirely human, and he was annoyed to find chunks of his memory missing. It was a known side effect, and he hoped it would be only temporary. For about forty percent of those undergoing cyber-conversion, the memory loss was permanent.
“Excellent. We’ll begin by testing your motor functions. Please attempt to sit up slowly.”
He complied, his massive frame rising with unnatural smoothness. He marveled at the lack of strain or discomfort, which was so different from the broken body he’d inhabited mere days ago. As he reached a seated position, he flexedhis cybernetic arm, watching the intricate machinery whir and adjust beneath the surface.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrored surface of a table of instruments nearby, he was both pleased and disquieted to see the green lines of power flowing through circuitry now intertwined throughout his face and body. Wires connected the base of his brain to his spinal cord, which allowed his formerly paralyzed body to move again. He looked like a cyborg, but he retained the same dark brown skin, one brown organic eye, and bald head. He was himself but enhanced, which was the point.
“How do you feel?” asked Dr. Vex, gaze fixed on a readout of his vital signs.
Xavier paused, struggling to put the conflicting sensations into words. “Functional but...different.”