Chapter 7: Police department
The dust began to settle, and through the clouds of smoke, the scattered bodies of the bandits could be seen. The gunfire had ceased, and everything was finally starting to return to normal. I was still twisted from the damage, but I felt no pain, absolutely nothing. I just understood that I was missing the necessary limbs, and that was all.
The officers began inspecting the bodies of the bandits, and those who showed any signs of life were handcuffed. A surviving captain, whose bulletproof vest was torn in several places, apparently from bullet hits, approached me.
"You really surprised me. Usually, these dumb skulls are good for nothing but cannon fodder, but look how everything changes when someone knowledgeable is in charge," said the captain. With a deft motion, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Of course, I should charge you under Article 24-K6 for unauthorized shooting and killing people. But I didn't see Matthew Carrington involved in the confrontation, just one of these fools, and you just got caught in the crossfire," he added with a smirk.
"I understand," I replied.
"Well then, let's get you to the vehicle, and we'll take care of all your broken parts by evening," he said, waving to a couple of his men. "Alright, guys, grab him and drag him to the van."
I was dragged to the van and seated on one of the seats. A girl approached me, took out some tools, and began working on the damage.
"I'll fix the energy leak and weld some critical nodes for now, and later they'll replace everything," she said.
"Are you a doctor?" I asked.
"Hah, if only. I'm a technician," she replied and finished her work in a moment. Without asking, she connected a cable to my head. "Let's see. They've stripped you of almost all protection, our modules, and weaponry. Okay, everything else seems fine. Wait, is your entire body chrome? I thought there would be internal organs. How are you even sane? Hold on, no brain either? Are you an AI?" she asked in amazement, cautiously pointing a gun at me.
"Calm down, Catherine, he's human, if you can call it that. It's new technology, they put a living person into a robot's body. Soon, we'll all become like this," said the captain, sitting down next to me.
Their eyes flickered for a moment.
"Understood. Squad, gather up and move out. We're no longer needed here," said the captain.
A few moments later, other operatives began loading into the van. It was strange; usually, the police ensure everything is under control before leaving, but they were leaving almost immediately after the confrontation.
"Why are you leaving the scene so quickly?" I asked out of curiosity.
"We're a strike team; our job is to hit hard and that's it. The patrol units will handle the rest," replied the captain.
"Not the best profession, but you won't get bored," added Collins.
It seemed they had their own division of responsibilities.
"What other units are there?" I inquired.
"Max-Tac and..." the captain began to say.
"Corp dogs," Collins interrupted. His face showed clear dissatisfaction.
"And you, Collins, envy them and want to lick the corpos' boots the most," one of the soldiers said with a laugh.
"Screw you, Richard," Collins responded good-naturedly.
"Yeah, the first ones are the real terminators, fighting against others like them, almost entirely cyberized. They exist to suppress cyberpsychos, overloaded with chrome. The second ones are corporate government servants, with higher pay and better conditions. They handle territory security, negotiation control, and the like. Practically hired security," the captain explained.
Now, among colleagues, I was heading to my place of service. They were much more pleasant than my previous companion. I hope he didn't get away so easily and that a couple of bullets hit his car.
From inside the van, it was impossible to tell where we were going or what was around, as the thick armored walls gave no view. Only through the window between the driver and the cargo area could the road be seen. The vehicle drove into an underground parking lot, and the officers immediately opened the doors, unloading outside. They gently picked me up and carried me to the elevator.
"A bit of bureaucratic procedure, and then straight to the repair shop for you. We have a staff ripper who will replace your damaged modules with those we have in stock, install our implants, and everything else will be at your own expense," the captain said in parting. He patted me on my metal shoulder and went about his business.
They brought me to a desk where an officer was stationed.
"Hey, Mark, can you help register a new officer?" one of my escorts said.
"A robot?" he asked in surprise.
"No, a borg," the same escort replied.
"Got it. Connect the personal terminal to the interface," he said. Realizing he had said something silly, Mark took my left hand, pulled out a cable, and connected it to a port next to the computer. "You've been sent an introductory package of documents. You've been assigned the rank of private, and the list of duties and regulations is in the documents. You are entitled to the standard set of police implants; install them as soon as possible. Glad to have you on board," he concluded.
Symbols started flickering before my eyes, but everywhere there was a red error message:
"Loaded database cannot be unzipped, module damage."
After finishing the registration, the two officers dragged me further.
"We'll give you a little tour. We're heading to the technical department where our ripper works, next to the weapons warehouse and the evidence dock. There's also a small hand-to-hand combat hall and a shooting range. Try to sign up early; otherwise, you'll never get a spot, there's always a queue," Richard said.
"Thanks for the help. By the way, I don't know your names," I said.
"I'm Richard, and this is George, but everyone calls him Hamster," Richard replied.
"Hey, don't tell him that," George protested.
"It's because he loves stuffing his cheeks so much that food falls out," Richard explained with a smile.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Michael," I said.
"We know," Mike responded.
Finally, we reached a room labeled "Office 23. Sarah Stone, Staff Ripper."
They brought me into a brightly lit room. In the center was a chair resembling a medical chair, surrounded by equipment, including a circular saw. It felt like I had walked into a maniac's lair, not a doctor's office.
"Why did you bring this heap of scrap to me?" asked a woman with a short haircut, the tips of her hair dyed. She was dressed in a police uniform, only with a cross on her shoulder patches. Her jacket was unzipped, revealing a short top and an impressive bust. If I were still alive, I would have tried to hit on her immediately.
[image]
"This is our new colleague, Matthew Carrington," said Richard.
"That's a bad joke," she replied.
"See for yourself," Richard said, and her eyes flickered for a moment.
"Holy shit, what luck! Put this pile of scrap metal on the operating table," the ripper said. Her face clearly showed displeasure towards me.
"Actually, I'm alive," I said. Though she was attractive, the words coming out of her mouth were far from charming.
"I couldn't care less," she replied.
"Don't worry, Matthew. Sarah is an excellent ripper and a good person. She just shows her character this way," Richard said, laying me on the operating table.
"Have you not been kicked in the balls for a while, Richard? Because I can arrange that," Sarah said, not appreciating his comment.
"And she packs a punch too," Richard added, then quickly left, seeing Sarah's patience wearing thin. George followed him hurriedly.
"They've become too relaxed," she said disapprovingly and began working on my body, quickly inserting some cable into my head.
Connecting a diagnostic module, Sarah started her work.
"So, where did you get such damage, arriving here so soon?" she asked, activating the robotic arms that began moving around and dismantling my body.
"In a nearby shootout," I replied.
"Today's incident? Got it. So, you don't have any combat modules installed; everything was removed. The serial number of your body shows it's been in storage for the past year. And you're an old model too," Sarah commented.
"That's how it is. Is that going to be a problem? I was brought back from the dead not too long ago," I said.
"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.
"Exactly what I said. Until recently, I was dead, and now I'm sitting in a robot body talking to you," I explained, deciding to lay out my problem immediately, hoping she could help as a specialist.
"Sounds like nonsense. No technology can protect you from death. I don't understand, are you an AI?" she asked warily. Suddenly, she removed my faceplate, revealing only the electronic components of my body. "Who are you? Speak!"
"I only know that I'm Matthew Carrington, and Militech implanted me into this body, saying I was part of a revival program," I said.
Sarah laughed loudly, her strong, almost hysterical laughter echoing through the room.
"Hahaha! Good joke. Corps and charity! Yeah, those arrogant bastards would sooner shoot themselves than give you a piece of synthetic. But that's not my business; I don't want to get involved with them. Listen up, I'll install all your modules, and then I don't want to see you here again. Got it?" she asked. Her behavior indicated a negative experience with them, and it seemed she didn't trust AIs and cybernetic people, likely due to some tragic event.
"Yes, I understand," I replied. Now I was sure it wasn't that simple. If every local says the same thing about Militech, then they probably have other interests regarding me. But what? I had no idea. Testing technology, and I'm the guinea pig? This assumption seemed most plausible. They're trying to revive people, and my preserved brain conveniently came their way. Or inconveniently, depending on how you look at it.
"Connecting module 23si-police. Connecting to database. Database not found."
"Searching. Damaged data found. Unpacking."
"Loading database."
The screen displayed a multitude of different documents with various titles. When I glanced at Sarah, information popped up beside her:
Sarah Macol
Age: 37 years
Occupation: Police
Position: Staff Ripper
Criminal Record: None
Marital Status: Widow
Recommendation: Do not engage.
More and more robotic arms were working on my body. They quickly replaced damaged parts with new ones, connecting them to me.
Combat Implant Connected — Zubr.12 Targeting System.
Communication Implant Connected.
Network access restored. System update required. Do you wish to start the update? Yes/No.
I selected "Yes," understanding that it couldn't get any worse. Suddenly, everything went dark before my eyes, and I was forcibly sent into sleep mode. However, I could still think clearly; there was simply nothing—like being locked within my own consciousness. Maybe it was time to make it a bit better? I had heard that one could create a personal corner within their own mind.
In front of me appeared the lawn of my old home, the same swings. Approaching them, I touched one. Suddenly, I found my hand—my real hand. I immediately headed to the house and found the nearest mirror to remember what I looked like. I was already over thirty. Despite the tired look and smoker's lungs, I was still fresh. I wore the same clothes as on my last day. This was definitely me, Matthew, not that kid named Mike.
[image]
Things didn't go as planned, did they, Matthew? I noticed a framed family photo. Holding it in my hands, I realized how much I missed them. I regretted not spending enough time with them. I wished I could go back, quit being a detective, stop spending nights at work, and take up something peaceful, like working with documents. Sitting, doing nothing, and gaining weight. Such a simple and happy life.
Everything around me began to disappear rapidly, as if someone was pulling me out of my imaginary home.
System Active.
Quickly checking my indicators, I saw that everything was back to normal, with no errors or damage.
"I'm done. You can leave and try to show up here as little as possible," Sarah said, stepping away from me and heading to one of the windows. She lit a cigarette.
"Thanks for your help," I said, getting up.
I wasn't angry at her and didn't try to justify myself. I could barely believe that I was now more machine than man. Though I didn't fully understand who AIs and borgs were, it seemed to be a sore subject for many. Since I now had network access, I decided to see what I could find about myself and my situation.
Quickly finding information on the events of 2030, I noticed there was nothing about me in the news. Stories of fallen officers usually made the headlines. It seemed I had been completely erased. The news continued with reports of battles with numerous criminal groups. These skirmishes escalated into a full-blown armed conflict, ending tragically for the entire city. By 2035, the city ceased to exist.
I tried to find information about my family, but it was as if they had vanished. This hit me harder than I expected. Sitting against the wall, I realized that even a robot struggles with such emotions. Sitting here, I had lost all motivation to move forward. Maybe it was time to end this life once and for all?
Error **:%;№"(К:№")(А
Suddenly, I convulsed, finding it hard to think. My body began to spasm, but after a few seconds, it calmed down. What was I thinking about? I couldn't recall the last few minutes. Another glitch.
Right, I had just left the ripper and wanted to check my duties. The trainee's workday starts at eight and lasts until eight in the evening. Twelve hours—isn't that too much? Next, I report to Sergeant Jemian Todd. Seeing his image, I immediately knew who to look for.
So, information from the police department. Congratulations on your enlistment. Blah-blah, lots of empty words. But here's the gist: due to your circumstances, you're provided with temporary housing for a year. Then followed a long list of things not to do in the service apartment.
There should be a map somewhere. Finding the right tab in the interface, I entered the address mentioned in the message. The route was immediately mapped out from my location to the apartment. The building was five hundred meters from the workplace.
With that sorted, I headed out, wanting to take a look at the city. I had no desire to explore the department, as I would be spending enough time there and would get sick of the sight of its walls.
I easily found my way to the main hall, where many officers were busy with their tasks. Working in the police force involves not only shootouts but also immense bureaucracy, where almost every action has to be documented. This is done to maintain legality, or so they say.
Reaching the city streets, I freely wandered through them. Right, I wanted to learn what cyberpsychosis and AIs are. The definitions popped up immediately.
AI (Artificial Intelligences) — Highly advanced systems created to perform complex tasks, manage technological processes, analyze data, and interact with humans.
Cyberpsychosis — A term describing a psychological disorder that occurs in people who have excessively modified their bodies with cyberimplants. It's believed that an excessive number of cybernetic implants can lead to a loss of humanity, emotional instability, and aggressive behavior. Cyberpsychosis manifests as uncontrollable rage, paranoia, and, in extreme cases, a disconnection from reality.
Absorbing these definitions, I felt a twinge of understanding about the fears and hostility people had toward beings like me. With this new knowledge, I continued exploring the city, my new reality settling in.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone