It’s been 36 hours since that damn Synth destroyed your
ship. Your bruised ribs will heal fast enough, but your ego may take longer.
What is making matters worse is that the trace hardware implanted into the Synth seems to malfunctioning, so you have reverted to finding him the old
fashioned way, by listening in to the local law enforcement's radio
transmissions. There has been nothing so far, but you are confident that a
Synth cannot stay hidden in the city for long.
Your thoughts turn to Prof, lying in a med bay in a coma
breathing through frickin pipes and tubes! 1024 has disappeared off the grid
and you have drek all to show for it. The plan was supposed to be simple,
extract a blank Synth. Prof would then detach it from the Sanctums grip and implant
his own algorithm into it, his life work, a true AI.
You place your head into your hands, fighting back the tears
of guilt.
None of that had worked out. The algorithm did not take, 1024 had its own defense protocols already in place and rejected whatever the
prof tried. So we had no choice but to bring it back to earth. Then the thing
flipped out and you had been to slow to react, to trusting, to human and Prof
paid the price.
“Csshhhhhshhhhh”, your thought are interrupted as the radio
springs into life. You hear a bored sounding female voice.
“Unit 12 this is dispatch, we have a two niner in progress
down on Juniper Boulevard. Reports of a break-in at the power grid, some lunatic
is attempting to climb one of the pylons. Probably kids, but we advise caution
over Csshhhhhshhhhh”
You sigh in relief, finally something to go and check out!
Could be kids you suppose, but it equally could easily be a deranged Synth. Looking at the
last working location the trace gave you on 1024, the Synth was heading in the
right direction. You attach your gun to your belt and pick-up your helmet. You
then activate your wet wire muscle enhancements, and linkup your smart aim retina
display to your weapon. All systems read optimal. You head for the basement
hanger bay.
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