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The Whistleblower · InkandNeon | Speculative Fiction Stories

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  recording on right if you're listening to this
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  that what doesn't matter if you're listening
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  to this then i'm gone likely dead and you are
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  in great danger too my name is solomon hans and
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  if you value your life you should duplicate multiply
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  and resend this recording to everyone anything
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  you could think of For the information I'm about
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  to tell you needs to be shared. Find whatever
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  means you can to get this out. The more people
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  who hear it, the less likely your life will be
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  in danger. If you're corporate, one of them's
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  who came for me, who sat outside my house stalking
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  my family, then go to hell. I hope everything
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  you have built crumbles into dust and under the
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  weight of your lies. And if not... Please excuse
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  the dead man's lapse of decorum. I worked for
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  Darwin. I was a Senior Cybernet Assist, third
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  class. But just over five years ago, they came
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  to the division. The whole group of us were hand
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  -picked by supervisors and managers, all for
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  a top secret project. I was elated when I heard,
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  as it wasn't just Darwin involved, but a joint
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  operation with Praxis Bio Integrated. the leaders
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  in medicine, pharmaceuticals, and cellular maintenance
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  alongside the San Mandel Progenics, the architects
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  of artificial gestation and genetics. I jumped
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  at the chance, as anyone would. I could have
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  used the extra ACE, the new funds, to improve
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  the standard of living for my family. But a few
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  months ago, I was in a vehicle accident with
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  a trauma, shattered proloctor memories. Things
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  I had chosen to forget. Memories of atrocities
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  from the Black Side. I dare to not return home
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  once those memories surface. I wouldn't put my
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  family in their crosshairs. That is why I'm telling
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  you this, stranger. Why I am recording and downloading
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  this onto the Eternanet. Second I can. They will
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  call me a terrorist. Likely scrubbed 90 % of
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  the upload. They will defame me, but... It's
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  a small price to pay. I joined these companies,
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  like many others, to better humanity. To find
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  a cure for the blights that plague our children
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  and force us into suits of chrome and steel.
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  It is no secret that our very planet, our home,
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  Earth, is killing us. From our first breath,
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  vile, invisible pollutants fill our lungs, fill
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  our bodies with their corrosive materials. The
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  moment we open our eyes, we invite that sickened
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  sin. So when three megacorporations agreed to
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  work together to heal us, who wouldn't want to
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  help? Hindsight be damned, I am not too ashamed
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  to admit that. I hadn't felt so much joy since
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  the birth of my child. But understand me, I still
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  believe corporate industry can serve humanity.
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  My statements are not against structure as a
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  whole. but against a rotten subset working within
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  the shadows of the law like rats. To get us there,
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  we had to agree to be drugged, citing NDAs and
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  then we were airlifted on an unmarked transport
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  and then shipped to a frozen, windowless facility
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  wedged somewhere between massive thermal generators.
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  As far as I knew, there were 24 sub -laws of
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  the complex. Far deeper. The project I was a
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  part of was called Project Starseed. At first
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  they had us testing rudimentary artificial intelligences.
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  To call them AI was giving them too much credit.
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  We talked to call them the architecture sheep
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  because it had more in common with the brain
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  of a farm animal than any artificial mind. Then
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  the live tests began. They brought us husks.
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  Organic, vachron human bodies, spread with almost
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  zero cortical activity, free sapient tissue.
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  We scanned them thoroughly beforehand to ensure
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  there was no consciousness inside. Our directive
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  was simple. Implant the ship logic models and
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  force the husks to perform basic motor functions.
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  The breakthrough came with something we dubbed
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  RAM. The RAM were supercharged, far more advanced
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  than the baseline ship. volatile, violent, dangerous.
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  I stood in that clean room and watched a rabbit
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  rip both of Felix's arms clean out of their sockets
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  and then immediately sit in the corner sobbing
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  over what it had done. Felix had programmed it
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  with a simple command, show emotion. It acted
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  on literal machine logic, amplified by raw human
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  anatomy. It was like putting a toaster on maximum
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  heat and acting shocked when the bread catches
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  fire. The board had seen enough. The project
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  was slated to be scrapped not a year in. NDAs
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  were redistributed and aminoacetic serums and
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  software was being prepped to wipe out memory
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  caches. We were practically out the door when
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  they wheeled him in. Subject 13 he was called.
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  He was in the rumour mill for months before this.
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  No one really knew what it was. Some believed
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  it was some project from the lower floors, but
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  we didn't know until we seen him. It didn't take
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  us long before we renamed him. Subject 13 felt
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  a little inhuman. So we started to call him Robert.
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  Robert as in Robert from the tales of the Euclidian
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  Empire. The guy with war arms. Yeah, you know
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  the one. Robert was not our creation, not that
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  we knew of. He had four articulated limbs, as
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  I mentioned, and motorized servos taking the
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  place of his legs, and an industrial guard grafted
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  over his mouth. Imagine if you were the man who
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  had collided with a conveyor belt and came out
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  the other side, still breathing, belt and all.
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  That was our Robert. All we were told was that
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  he was a thrall. infusion of two intelligences
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  human and machine and the insult was that he
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  was built by trench scavengers with less technology
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  per mile than we held in our own hands now many
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  of us didn't believe this most of us came to
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  the consensus that Robert was created by some
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  other team our way to push us forward to get
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  us to work harder to reverse engineer it so we
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  too could learn and so we worked tirelessly we
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  did stress tests, diagnostic routines compared
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  to a sheep he was genius compared to a ram gentle
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  as a newborn child caught my eye more was the
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  welding the welding on his chassis was rough
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  functional and clearly done by multiple pairs
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  of hands but Garely easy to repair. We couldn't
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  scan his skull though. The scrap metal and wiring
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  created an impenetrable barrier. I'm not even
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  sure if this was done on purpose or not. Just
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  a happy accident. Unfortunately, this led us
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  to have to make a vote. A vote to open Robert
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  up. The approval came down from the executives
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  within an hour. It took them longer to adjust
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  the thermostat than to sign off on his With a
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  section. When I was preparing Robert on the slab,
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  my hand reached to remove the name tag from his
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  chest. That was when his hand suddenly gripped
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  my wrist. The look of his eyes. Hollow was sunken.
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  He saw my panic and then he let go. He tried
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  to mouth words to me through that steel plate.
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  But there was no voice track left. Had I spoken
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  up then, I would have ended up like Michael.
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  Self -preservation. What a miserable blessing.
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  We cut away the casing under the suffocating
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  heat of dozens of observation cameras and the
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  glaring eyes of our superiors. What surprised
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  me was the brain jam. Not only was it intact,
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  but it was expertly done. This furthered my belief
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  that this was some kind of test, as I had no
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  inkling to believe that people from the trenches
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  could perform such expert cybernetic procedures.
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  This was a procedure the team and I had done
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  many times. First thing we had to do to a new
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  batch of thralls was attach a jack to their brain
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  stem that allowed the augmentations and therefore
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  allowed for the new sheep AI to be installed.
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  But the true horror came from his spine. Bare
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  wires sprawled across what was left of the bone,
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  like artificial blade nerve endings and wreathing
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  his skeleton in copper and oxidized steel. When
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  the forceps made contact, the spine reacted violently.
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  Robert woke up. Suddenly, all the pain dampeners
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  and aminesthetics we put him under stopped working.
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  He began trying to move his arms. What remained
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  of one severed stump scraped across the tray,
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  trying to grasp a fallen... No, no, I'm okay.
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  Yeah, just a long day at the office. No worries.
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  He reached for his own unbolted arm. We were
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  ordered to stand down and just to observe. We
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  watched an exposed brain and a butchered body
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  fight to rebuild itself on an operating table.
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  Then suddenly he stopped, froze in place. moving
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  only his head which slowly turned towards us,
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  his jaw guard hanging loose, he forced out a
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  single word. End. I felt entirely hollow. I checked
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  the telemetry and Robert had had no pain dampers,
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  no sedatives, no synthetic blockers. He felt
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  every millimeter of the blade, his neural amplifiers
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  burning. raw agony into his mind nothing we did
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  did anything to numb his pain he was always in
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  constant pain yet he still found the strength
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  to reach for his own chassis whoever made him
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  that weaponized the man's sheer unyielding endurance
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  it wasn't a husk it was a human being greater
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  than any butcher standing in that room greater
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  than myself my hands dropped the instruments
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  as i froze and then I felt Michael lunge right
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  past me. Klaxons went wild. Robert took Michael's
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  hand and two pressed their foreheads together
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  sharing this silent merciful goodbye. Michael
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  took the sculpting razor and severed the spinal
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  bridge and then drove the blade straight into
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  Robert's cranium killing him on the spot. Chaos
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  erupted followed by a cold immediate water. Michael
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  stood there with his arms raised. tears running
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  down his face and a smile a warm thankful smile
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  on his face even as security took him down he
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  knew what he had traded no one got any sleep
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  that night and then the next morning we walked
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  into bay four to clean up the aftermath and waiting
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  on the slab was a brand new throw it was michael
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  this time we didn't give him a name tag seeker
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  it wasn't a technological miracle It was simply
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  a moral boundary our labs had refused to cross.
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  Whoever sent us Robert wanted us to figure it
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  out ourselves. The logic unit couldn't bind to
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  a blank, unformed clone. It required an existing
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  soul. A living, augmented person whose mind had
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  already weathered the real world. Once that shackle
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  was removed, the facility became an open slaughterhouse.
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  Promotions were handed out, divisions shifted.
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  and everyone was put to work on the new program.
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  That was five years ago, in 3998. I opted for
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  the memory wipe to survive, keep my family safe.
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  It brought me five quiet years with my wife and
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  children, but the accident brought back the truth,
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  perhaps by some divine will. So please, get this
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  out. Keep yourself safe. As for me, I think it's
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  time I go for a long walk.