Page 9 of True As Steel
“I believe a storm is brewing,” he replied in response to my unspoken question. “There were dark clouds in the distance moving in our direction when I started looking for a place to camp. You can almost smell it in the air. If it rains, I would like to have cooked as much of this as possible before it does. By the way, how do you eat your meat?”
“Medium,” I promptly answered while my eyes scanned the darkening sky.
I had noticed the clouds earlier but had attributed their color to the setting sun. However, the air indeed had that humid scent that often preceded showering rain.
“This should be good then,” he said, cutting part of the slice he had sizzling on the stone. “Eat,” he added, gesturing at it with his chin.
He didn’t have to say it twice. I stabbed the piece with the knife and bit a big chunk of meat. I nearly moaned with pleasure. Despite the obvious lack of spices—especially some salt—it was quite juicy. It tasted like pork and was just shy of the medium cook I liked. Jarog ate the other piece that was more on the medium-rare side
“Offal?” he offered, casting a meaningful glance at the ones ready to be consumed on the stone.
“I’ll have some liver. You’re welcome to the rest,” I said, slightly scrunching my face.
He laughed and nodded. He sliced some liver for me then went to town on the heart and kidneys. I was grateful he hadn’t kept the brain. He continued slicing meat off the spit, feeding us some directly, putting the rest to finish cooking on the stone. Although the silence in-between was surprisingly comfortable, I needed some answers and to get a better sense of where things were headed.
“So, who are you, Jarog, aside from a Cyborg branded as a rebel?” I asked nonchalantly after polishing off the last piece he’d given me.
He eyed me for a second before turning his silver gaze back to the meat he was carving. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.
“Until recently, I was Major Jarog Kaijo, member of the Cyborg Military Elite of Kirs,” he said in a neutral tone, the way one answers a clerk asking identification questions. “I’m thirty-five years old but became a Cyborg six years ago. My mother was the Regional Judge of Volron, a once peaceful region northwest of the capital. My father was in the military before me. I merely followed in his footsteps.”
“Volron? Isn’t that where Bloody Wednesday took place?” I asked, memories of the insurrection that had taken place there flashing back in my mind.
“Yes,” he said, his face hardening ever so slightly. “The reports as to what triggered it are conflicting. Some claim the Emperor had been targeting deputies in the region that were resisting some of his recent—if somewhat questionable—new policies. Others implied that every official in the region, including my mother, the mayors, the deputy, and even law enforcement were involved in shady dealings to defraud the population. In the end, I believe the region’s financial difficulties and inability to import sufficient food to feed the population were the real cause.”
“There’s nothing more dangerous than a hungry mob,” I said in a commiserating tone.
“Indeed,” he replied, his jaw slightly clenched. “Things escalated quickly. The army was called in, and it turned into a blood bath. Both my parents died that day.”
My heart constricted for him. I had heard of the massacre that had left the city completely wrecked. That event had marked one of the first talks of rebellion against Emperor Shui.
Jarog ate some more meat, extending a piece to me. I accepted it, although I was getting close to being full.
“Is that what made you become a Cyborg?” I asked in a gentle voice.
He pursed his lips, reflecting on his answer while swallowing his mouthful. “In a way, yes. I had previously been approached by the Cyborg program to join them,” he explained, his face taking on a faraway expression as he reminisced. “Since they only recruited the highly trained and specialized elite soldiers, it flattered me to be invited. But my parents hadn’t been too keen on me joining them. They feared they would lose their son, that the machine would supersede the man. But after their passing, I had nothing and no one left that mattered enough to me to worry I might change once I became a Cyborg.”
“Were your parents right?” I asked, immediately kicking myself for the intrusive question.
To my surprise, he didn’t glare or snap at me. He genuinely pondered the question before answering.
“To a certain extent, yes,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I am still the man I was prior to the procedure, but a significantly more subdued version. I don’t party, chase women, drink, or pull pranks like I used to.”
“That sounds like a good thing,” I retorted, scrunching my face.
He chuckled, nodding his head in concession. “True, but none of those things are bad either, as long as they are done in moderation. Today, they hold little interest for me.”
My brows shot up. “You’re not attracted to women anymore?”
Once again, I barely repressed a flinch. Of all the things he’d listed,thatwas the thing that had held my attention?
He snorted. “I said no such thing. Merely that they hold little interest to the extent that I will not seek them. If alcohol or a hot female lands on my lap, I might indulge, but I wouldn’t go out of my way for either.”
“I see,” I said before chewing my bottom lip.
While figuring out how to word my next question, my mind kept trying to imagine what kind of responses a Cyborg with muted emotions would display in the ‘throes of passion’ if they could even achieve that.
“So, you joined the Cyborgs. Did you ever regret that decision?” I asked, still dancing around the real question I wanted to ask.