Page 8 of Cyborg's Tether
“I... I’m sorry. I’m not explaining this well. It’s just, there’s so much at stake, and I want to get it right.”
His expression softened slightly. “I understand. This is important work. Take your time to find the right words. We’re counting on you.”
With that, he left, the door sliding shut behind him.
She slumped into her chair, burying her face in her hands. She had to do better. She had to find a way to communicate her findings clearly. She looked up at the holographic display, inhaling sharply. She would solve this puzzle, and she would find a way to make everyone understand. Lives depended on it.
Pulling her datapad close, she began to type, searching for simpler analogies and clearer explanations. She worked for hours, completely focused. As the facility’s night cycle began, Amaya finally leaned back, stretching her tired muscles. She looked over her report with a small smile. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. Clearer.
Tomorrow, she would face her superiors and Xavier once more. This time, she would make them understand. She had to.
She saved her work and stood, her legs protesting after hours of sitting. As she made her way to her quarters, her mind spun with possibilities. What if this discovery led to a breakthrough in cyborg technology? What if she could prevent future malfunctions?
She was on the verge of something big. She just had to find the right words to share it with the world. In her small room, she collapsed onto her bed, lethargy finally catching up with her. As she drifted off to sleep, images of neural pathways and cybernetic components danced behind her eyelids. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new chance to prove herself.
AMAYA’S BREATH QUICKENEDas she stepped into the briefing room the next day, experiencing a wave of dizzinessprompted from déjà vu, tightly clutching her datapad. Dr. Vex had arranged for this second meeting, urging her to clarify her earlier jumbled explanations. The room was just as stark as yesterday, with cold steel walls and a semi-circle of chairs arranged around a large holographic screen. Her superiors were already gathered, watching and waiting.
Her gaze sought out Xavier, who watched impassively. Suddenly, he gave her a small smile, and her heart skittered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and felt more composed.
Dr. Vex gave her a nod from her place at the far end of the table, a small, encouraging smile that helped steady Amaya’s nerves. She cleared her throat and tapped a button on her pad, causing the holographic schematics of a malfunctioning cyborg to materialize above the table, flickering with digital precision.
“Yesterday, I tried to explain—” Her voice cracked, and immediately, heat rose in her cheeks. She took a deep breath. “Sorry. Yesterday, I, uh, struggled to explain my hypothesis. Today, I’d like to be clearer.”
She quickly realized how many eyes were on her, and her chest tightened. “The, uh... the neural feedback loops...” Her words stumbled out awkwardly. She winced but forced herself to continue. “I believe the micro-fissures in the neural relays are creating inconsistent signals. Think of it like...like a speaker that’s crackling because the wiring is frayed.”
Her audience seemed more attentive now. She allowed herself a breath, encouraged.
“So, um...imagine a cyborg’s brain, trying to process conflicting information. Hot and cold sensations at once or visual distortions.” She noticed some nods. “That’s what’s happening to the malfunctioning cyborgs.”
She tapped her pad again, zooming in on the web of neural relays. “Here.” She pointed. “This particular junction is where the fissures tend to appear. They’re microscopic, barelynoticeable in a surface diagnostic, which is why we missed them before.”
Her hands were shaking, but the words were flowing now, and she was gaining momentum. She caught Dr. Vex’s approving nod. “These fissures cause a cascading effect, sending errant signals to the sensory network, which leads to the malfunctions we’ve been seeing. If we recalibrate the neural pathways and close these fissures, we can stop the malfunction before it becomes critical.”
A pause stretched through the room as her superiors digested the information. Amaya’s stomach churned with uncertainty. Had she been clear enough? Did they understand?
One of the engineers leaned forward, his brow uneven. “So, you’re suggesting the malfunctions are due to...wear and tear on the neural relays? How do we prevent them?”
Amaya exhaled, the question giving her a clear path forward. “Yes, exactly. The solution would be a recalibration of the entire system. A shutdown of non-essential processes to allow the neural connections to heal...and to prevent it, we’ll need to reinforce the pathways—perhaps even implement a quantum stabilizer to minimize future stress on the relays.”
The murmur of conversation rippled through the room, but this time, Amaya didn’t feel as though it was negative. They were talking about her ideas and considering them because they understood them this time.
“And this feedback loop?” asked Xavier from his seat near the center.
Amaya inhaled and exhaled before answering, not wanting to fumble again. “It’s an anomaly in the sensory input. When the fissures develop, it causes signals to cross in unpredictable ways. If the neural network gets overloaded, the cyborg might interpret a harmless sensation as a threat, or...” She glanced at Xavier’s cybernetic eye, “...might fail to perceive dangeraltogether. It’s as...as though the system misfires, sending scrambled data back to the brain.”
Xavier’s brow furrowed, but this time, his expression seemed more thoughtful than confused. “Can this be fixed, and how quickly?”
Amaya’s pulse quickened. “Yes, I believe it can. We’ll need to isolate the affected pathways and shut down certain systems temporarily. It’s delicate work but manageable.” For a moment, silence filled the room, making her sweat under the intensity of the scrutiny pressing down on her.
One of the tech supervisors leaned forward. “This makes sense. I’d like to see the full details in a report by the end of the day.”
Amaya blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Yes, of course.” She tapped a button. “I’ve already prepared that for all of you, and you should receive the reports right about...now.” A chorus of beeps sounded from the datapads around her, eliciting a pleased murmur and a few nods.
Another supervisor asked, “If we start today, how long will recalibration take?”
She stood straighter, feeling confident now. “Two days, or maybe three. We’ll need to run tests on the simulations first, but we should have a clearer answer soon.”
There were more nods of approval around the table. Dr. Vex smiled at her, her expression a quiet affirmation of her success.