Jaz is a young Unaltered girl, living in a world ruled by rich Modified and controlled by vicious Mechanics. She embarks on a interfallacting journey to raise enough money to undergo the process that will turn her into a Modified, but she ends up in a desperate fight for her life where she finds out more about herself than she'd ever thought possible.


3. Chapter II

Chapter II




I sit on my bed, reading. My dad walks in the room, asking me if everything is alright. I shrug. This is a memory, dredged up by the Assembly to gauge my reaction, looking for any hint emotions remain. 

By now I've had my first implants, thinking them to be normal Modified implants, having no idea my parents had already sold me to become a Mechanic, unfeeling robot designed to kill the Unaltered, and even the Modified who didn't behave as the Assembly wanted them to, without mercy. 

The plate on my right wrist stings in the memory, it was my newest one, only a week old. 

It joined the collection. A metal plate on the back of my neck. A wire wrapping around my left arm. A group of metal pieces on my left leg. A small circuit plate on the right side of my face. 

I had the most implants of any Modified I knew, maybe even the most at my school. That was nothing compared to what I have now. 

A circuit plate on the left side of my face, mirror to the one on the right. Both legs are covered by interlocking metal plates. A plate on one wrist, a chip on the other, with wires feeding me. The wire still wraps around my left arm, but has been cut back to just above the elbow to make way for more plating. 

I am more machine then human, and I will only continue to grow more mechanical as time passes. Slowly, bit by bit, my human flesh replaced by machinery, my emotions by preprogrammed reactions to certain events. 

I want it to stop, but it never will. 

In a few days, I will be deployed onto the aircraft Stormer, as a guard for some of the Unaltered passengers. 

Little do the Assembly know, but I've still my human emotions intact. I am a master of hiding them, and the purpose of this test was to confirm if I was truly unfeeling. 

To be a Mechanic, to survive, I had to be.

The memory shifts, to a much more painful one. My parents sending me off. 

"Ma! Father!" I shout, trying to fight off the people who came for me. Thanks to the many implants I'd already received, I was strong for my age, but the guards were stronger. They were Mechanics. 

"We'll miss you son!" My mother calls, and my father glares. 

"Get out of here, you filthy pest!" He shouts, and I stop struggling, to weak, and break down sobbing. I was eight when they took me. I am fifteen now. Usually the process takes ten years at the least, but I am nearing the end at just seven. 

Sadness and anger and regret swarm me, but I keep my face still. The chemicals would still be released, but that didn't matter, they couldn't stop them, but they would filter them out quickly, before they can have an effect. 

I feel them, strong and powerful, all thanks to a glitch in my system. It says they'd filter them out, when really they'd just removed toxins from my bloodstream. It was a glitch of my own design. I had tinkered with the system a bit, freeing my mind. 

Satisfied, I am pulled out of the memories. 

"You did good, Ki," the lady says. She had brown hair, dull blue eyes and freckles on her cheeks. She wears thick glasses, and is painfully thin, her cheeks gaunt and bones visible. 

I nod a curt, robotic nod in acknowledgement, keeping my face still.  

"You are dismissed." The man states. He is old, fat and balding, with whisky black hair and a disgrace of a moustache, thin and patchy grey fuzz above his lip.

I saunter away, making my way back to my room, preparing my things for when I leave for the Stormer. 





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