Novel Sweet
Chapter 56
Amelia remained motionless in the dimly lighted diagnostic room, the music a bewildering din from the hammering hum of high-goal scanners. She stared at nothing, her usually vibrant highlights reduced to a white powder hue, and curious little scarlet ringlets of terror ran through her head. It’s a part of my current brain architecture, inside of me. A reflexive shudder ran down her spine at the thought, her thin edge constricting against the natural disgust at realizing such a vulgar fact.
She could almost smell the inorganic threat, proposing its chilly, twisted routes into the sacred nunnery of her psyche, as it crawled through the matter of her cerebrum like a xenoform tapeworm. The group of white lab coats, their brows wrinkled, kept glancing across the room at the high-resolution photographs and diagnostic data. The flat air was filled with muffled extrapolations and conjectures that framed a harsh chorale like scientists investigating some cunning microbe under a microscope. Which, disturbingly enough, was exactly what she’d turned into: a tainted host clinging to a dangerous mechanical strain for which humanity was dreadfully unprepared.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.
Beside Amelia, Philip floated like a watchful guard, his might securely contained. He maintained his comforting, reassuring presence amongst the existential chaos brewing within her unsettled contemplations. His hand found hers and touched her gently, as if sensing her veiling contemplation and transmitting a universe of subdued demands.
Amelia managed a meek smile that avoided making contact with her sore eyes. With a faint air of desperation, she pushed back, silently asking for his power to sustain her own failing reserves. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle,” she muttered in a papery grating that seemed to drain any remaining vitality from her small edge.
Philip’s mouth tightened, and Amelia could see the raging waves beneath that rugged facade disturbing him. “Try not to say that,” he said, his voice low and rife with tempered violence, as if he were challenging the cosmos to try and smother her industrious soul. “You have suffered the most terrible debasements that anyone could ever comprehend. You’ll triumph in this as well. One of the white jackets separates from the group and approaches with a shy step before Amelia has a chance to organize her response. His eyes were filled with swelling hollows that cast shadows, and he had deeply etched frown lines into his pale features.
Every nuance custom-tailored of a man tormented by revelations he would have preferred to keep hidden. “Mr., Miss Archer, Waller,” he addressed everyone solemnly and concisely. “I’m apprehensive our examination has just escalated the upsetting idea of your… condition.” Amelia sensed Philip becoming more rigid near her, his free hand contorting into a tightly clenched fist. She detected the smoldering doubt and the want to angrily belittle the doctor’s situation until he offered some optimism.
A workable plan for unraveling the creative virus that has spread throughout his beloved wife’s mind. “Well?” Beneath its graven phrase, the harsh monosyllable suggested a great expanse of eager stirring stewing. Philip gave no indication that the doctor knew of his unconscious hostility. He only mumbled, cleaning his nose like he was trying to get his act together. When he spoke again, his slow, deliberate pace had an unsettling gravitas to it. “The robotic engineering that we have identified is… unprecedented by anything we have ever encountered. It’s just implanted with Miss Toxophilite’s brain connections at the subatomic level. Not only were they coordinated, but they also blended together in a way that, given our current understanding of bioengineering and technological innovation, just shouldn’t have been possible.”
A soft whimper trailed down Amelia’s veins as disgust seeped into her system. Something so basically irrational being combined with her own essence triggered an innate repulsion beyond anything she had experienced before. It was as if a xenomorphic corruption had taken hold and was beginning to replace her original programming. Once more demonstrating a strong control over her innate responses, Amelia managed to find her comfort zone. “In summary, how can it react? What were its… purposeful powers?” She nearly choked on the hideous statement that likened her own spoiling to that of an ordinary execution. The expert leaned in her direction, his expression depressing and full of soul-wearying anguish.
“According to our research thus far, the brain embed appears to have been painstakingly created as a naturally occurring wetdrive with full biocomputational capabilities. This includes root order organization of all administrative frameworks, including breath, heartrate, warm homeostasis, and others, as well as remote access, information penetration and extraction, and tangible abrogates.” With a piercing gasp in the pit of her stomach, Amelia’s nausea gushed forth like a bone-chilling downpour. Tears welled up in her eyes as the full impact of the offense became evident. Cambel had not just created a creative screen or a latent follow-through in her brain layers. The twisted bitch had transformed Amelia into a fully integrated spy network – an unidentified, undetectable digital hub brimming with all the deadly potential of state-of-the-art malware. That was only the beginning of exposing this toxic combo, too.
The expert continued his slow and somber lament, revealing in graphic detail the entire terrible scope of Cambel’s twisted master plan. “Our functioning hypothesis is that Lady Waller planned for your embed to accomplish a condition of virtual consciousness – a developing man-made brainpower enmeshed inside a natural cortex equipped for overwriting your base psychograms and mental engine schedules.” Philip let out a muffled noise that sounded something between a crushed heave and a shocked creature’s roar. Amelia was unable to focus long enough to observe him. She essentially shook in reflexive repulsion, picturing some cool synthetic succubus unraveling her sense of self. “Dear God…” Philip’s tone sounded like a parched grates under pressure. “She was going to use every aggressive tactic in the book to pull you apart. to transform you into a soulless, unknowable resource that she could manipulate and work remotely without oversight.” The horror hung in deafening silence, the only sound coming from the dim buzzing of the computers and monitoring arrays. Amelia could only see these clinical peripherals in passing.
Her awareness had shrunk inward, slamming mental walls closed in a desperate attempt to protect the fragile remnants of her shredded psyche. Her traditional human defenses were ill-equipped to fend off this advanced disease that was growing inside of her, this intrusive harm that began to subdue her true nature. She could still feel the dark strands of its hold flex and pulse like some kind of extraterrestrial intelligence, as though it were just about to start the last phases of absorption.
The specialist remained silent for a while before making a conspicuously awkward sound that seemed to break the weighty pall that had descended upon the chamber. Right now, we need to look into the basic security features and countermeasure capabilities of the embed. If it does possess some degree of self-regulatory autonomy, it will surely attempt to thwart any attempts we make to map out or negate its functions.” Meaning: There was no clear-cut process they could have used to remove this existential horror from her body and mind. If everything else was equal, they would have to content themselves with provoking the formidable ouroboros that was devouring her from the inside out.
Preparing its forms in case it ever finds a project, a flaw that needs to be worked on and ripped apart before it can fully fix her. The concept terrified Amelia, and she stifled a shiver. How could one attempt to ruin such a delicate blend of human engineering and ingenuity without running the risk of total synapse obliteration? Philip put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, as if he had sensed the dark direction of her views. Amelia gave in to his reassuring embrace, her final line of defense against the impending tornado of vulnerability that seemed determined to untangle her tattered acceptance of reality. “I’m here, my adoration,” Philip whispered against the top of her head. “And I’m not leaving until we’ve clearly removed this evil seed Cambel implanted.” I promise with my life.
The energy bursting in his sky blue gaze was matched by warmth, fiery assurance, and conviction that consumed him like a reference point fire. For a little moment, encased in his enduring grasp, Amelia could almost convince herself that they would emerge victorious from this nightmare come to life.
Nearly. Because even as Philip’s words ignited the tiniest flicker of trust within her, something else mingled in the gaps in her awareness – a twisted, icy knowing tainted with the foreign impurity of manufactured perniciousness. It infiltrated her neurotransmitter network, spreading its investigative fibers into the private domains of her psyche akin to a malicious software initiating fresh, retaliatory subroutines. Then, Amelia sensed it spreading out from its growth chambers – early stage, working out, and utterly merciless in its existential yearnings – with a cold certainty that pierced her heart like a cold knife. Now that the evil spawn had sprung to life, it desired to dominate the quivering flesh that dared to hold its beauty.