The Trine was in position. Bryce, floating in the stasis cradle, reached up until his palms were pressed against the clear domed structure above him. He looked up at Cognition over his head, then straight down at the Resonators. His eyes closed, hands pressed up, trusting Cognition with himself in a way that was inevitable and terrifying. On the exhale Bryce asked for the procedure to begin.
Cognition grafted the hybrid pathway next to Bryce’s own, weaving them together by the strands of mutation his body created. The Resonator was serving as the assistant and stabiliser, R2L was monitoring minute changes in Bryce’s physiological markers, keeping him safe. The first part of the procedure completed and carefully tested, Cognition ran a simulation of the next steps again. Confirming all was in order, they started the second part of the procedure.
R2L’s integration began with the optic nerve — visual communication with Bryce, and guidance based on perceived visual data. The second step was intricate linking with the hybrid pathway and Bryce’s own autonomic pathway — resonance monitoring and regulation, keeping Bryce alive. The third step was the linking into the thalamic structures. Delicate process performed by Cognition and the Resonator, ensuring the connection was made smoothly and unobtrusively. Once given the go-ahead by Cognition, R2L reached out with infinite precision and gentleness.
[Systems nominal. Optic link pending calibration. Hybrid pathway stable. Autonomic outputs steady. Thalamic anchor oscillating within expected range. Cognition… is Bryce dreaming?]
<Correct, R2L. I need to wake Bryce now. Do not interact with him in any way. Wait for him to reach out to you.>
Bryce woke to a sensation of Restoration Aerosol enveloping him, cooling his lungs, supporting his body in that uncanny floating sensation he learned to equate with it. At first, he felt no different. He moved his body, stretched, turned his senses inward — and stopped.
This feels like — knowing someone is watching over your shoulder. When they are so close to you, you can feel them behind you but you’re not touching.
He continued moving, stretching, feeling for the differences. Other than a sense of presence, there was nothing. He could see Cognition and the Resonator at the foot of the cradle, but no R2L.
“R2L?” He asked out loud.
The response was immediate and slightly disorienting.
[Hello, Bryce.] Glowing, cyan lettering in the middle of his field of vision, transparent enough to look through, prominent enough to be easily absorbed. At the same time as the lettering, he felt a small ripple of warmth in his brain. Almost like a wave of goosebumps spreading through his scalp, but — in his brain? A deep tissue massage for the brain? He shivered slightly, then laughed at himself.
Okay, I’m going to get used to that. It’s definitely preferable to being dead.
“Cognition, I have some questions.”
The ripple in the stasis cradle medium let him know Cognition was listening. R2L’s HUD input lit up again.
<Hello, Bryce. It’s Cognition. This is how I will speak to you going forward.>
“I know what R2L’s functions are, but how does this link work. Can I still think at it and it will respond via the HUD or do I have to talk to it out loud. What can it hear and see? Do I have any privacy now it’s in my brain? Who’s in charge — can it override my wishes if it thinks it knows what’s best for me? What happens if I refuse to comply? Can it just force me? What about — intimacy?”
<Bryce, I would never take your autonomy from you knowingly. I will answer your questions in order, if you need further clarification ask.>
Bryce was finding it slightly easier to focus on the writing in his field of vision. It seemed to track his pupils as he moved.
<First, R2L will not engage with you, unless you specifically think or say its name with the ‘activate’ command at the end. This ensures your privacy is respected and R2L only activates when asked to do so. Equally you only need to say or think ‘R2L deactivate’ and it will return to silent vitals monitoring.>
<Second, it can hear you speak out loud or in thoughts, however, until you say ‘R2L, activate’ it will not hear or see anything. It is strictly there to monitor and stabilise the pathways, and continue guiding the mutation.>
<Third, you are in charge, Bryce. R2L cannot override your instructions, much less force you to do anything you do not wish to.>
<Fourth, as R2L cannot hear your thoughts or your vocalisation, nor can access your optic nerve, unless you give the ‘R2L activate’ instruction, you are free to behave as you normally would. It will still log changes in your vital outputs via the hybrid and autonomic pathways, but this is monitoring for your safety and cannot be disabled. It can tell the difference between chemical and physical changes humans experience during arousal and heightened stress stemming from danger. It will not interfere in any intimacy you wish to engage in.>
<The only exceptions to these rules are: If you decide to give it full access for whatever reason — and you would do so by saying or thinking at it ‘R2L full access.’ Or should you become unconscious and are in danger of fatal arrhythmia. You also have the option to activate it in ‘quiet mode’. You would say: ‘R2L activate quiet’. It would be in active monitoring mode - sight and sound, without interrupting with HUD visibility or announcements.>
“Thank you Cognition, you’ve given me a chance to get some of my humanity back.”
Bryce took a moment to breathe and process the shared information. It was surreal, daunting and very slightly exciting. He felt like a character in a Sci-fi game.
“Thorne Echo integration is next?”
<Correct, Bryce. When you are ready and give the instruction.>
“How will you do it? Am I going to be awake for it?”
<I will fold space to get you to Thorne Echo. It is safest if you remain asleep during the process.>
“Fold space? You know what, no, I don’t need to know. Can you take me back if needed? Or can you get to Thorne Echo?”
<The answer to both of those questions is yes, Bryce. It wouldn’t be easy for you, but yes I could bring you back if needed.>
Would you?
He thought, but instead, he asked for the transfer to start. As the drowsiness dragged him under he managed: “Ish… Thank you.”
****
He woke feeling disoriented and a little wobbly, almost like he just got off an insane rollercoaster ride.
The first thing he noticed was the light. Light filtering through the layers of sheer curtain panels, illuminating the space he was in the way only sunlight can.
He was laid out on a large supportive sofa, but what got his attention was the robe wrapped around him. The velvety, plush weave moulded to his skin, grounding him and insulating his body from any harshness. It felt impossibly tender. The kind of tenderness he hadn’t felt for so long, and certainly not since Cognition rescued him. The physical softness, the enveloping warmth over his skin — it was emotional, and he let himself feel it.
His chest felt tight, breath coming in soft, little shudders and gasps. He welcomed the feeling of his diaphragm contracting to expel the air, stretched to his full length, toes pointed, arms straight up by his ears. One full, big lungful filling his chest cavity, expanding his belly, arms and legs reaching, joints popping in relief — and an exhale coming from the depths of his being. All of his muscles bunching up, abs, obliques contracting, knees pulled into his chest, arms wrapping around them, pulling in, chin tucked to his chest…
He flopped on the sofa, feeling. He was here. His body was behaving as he was used to. The filtered sunlight made the open room glow with gentle illumination. It was inviting. Rolling up, he got on his feet, feeling the strength of his quads as he pushed up. He felt giddy. Every tactile detail of the apartment added to it. The blonde bamboo flooring felt warm and smooth underfoot. He padded across it, taking his surroundings in.
A glass wall to the left of him, layers of soft muslin-like curtain panels filtering the light. A flat screen TV on the pale wall displaying landscape art. A sliding door, made almost unnoticeable by use of colour and material. To his right, an elegant shelving unit in a rich chocolate colour, occupying the length of the off-cream coloured wall.
He walked along it running his left hand over the wood, until he reached the elevated entrance lobby. Large enough to easily fit a couple of grown-ups. Same warm bamboo flooring, off cream walls and a solid modern entrance door with a clouded glass pane alongside it, letting the corridor light in. To the right another camouflaged sliding door, opening to a large storage cupboard. Something was starting to catch his attention about this whole apartment set up.
He ran his hand over the entrance door, noticed the deadbolts above and below the smart entry panel, the kind you could program to read your biometrics as well as use a pin code.
That’s — more than odd… why would I need that level of security?
He was about to explore the flat further when he noticed an envelope sticking out of the entrance door letterbox. He took it, noticing the feel of the paper in his hand. It was some kind of paper — thicker, heavier than normal. At least he thought it was. It felt — different. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly how. He brushed his fingers over the surface, turning it in his hands. The extra door locks forgotten, he padded to the sliding balcony door. One step off the entrance platform and through the minimal kitchen.
Once out on the balcony, he held it up to the light. No transparency, but some kind of faint almost slivering trail in the paper. It reminded him of the frost formations on poorly insulated glass. Except there was nothing cold about it. It felt vital somehow. He wondered if he was starting to lose it.
He leant on the balcony railing, noticing his surroundings for the first time. The flat was located next to a large park. Water reflected the mid-morning sunlight in the distance. He took a breath, and found it unexpectedly clean. No exhaust fumes or general city air smell.
Sitting down at the small balcony table, he ran the letter through his hands again. It was different from the paper he was used to. His name and the flat address were neatly printed on the back.
Guess it’s time to see what it says.
The envelope opened easily once he applied a little pressure to unseal it. The headed paper held the Ouro Tech logo and the company address. He noticed his name prominent at the top, scanned through the corporate welcome, orientation information, his position, planned start date and time. All standard information he’d expect. And at the bottom, one unobtrusive paragraph, hand written in deep indigo ink:
“I wanted to add a personal welcome, Bryce. I’m glad you’re here, and I am looking forward to working with you directly. Your editorial judgement was one of the reasons I pushed for your appointment. I think you will find plenty here that benefits from your keen eye.
If you need anything as you settle in — context, introductions or simply a point of contact — you are welcome to reach out to me.
Cassian Thorne
Founder, Ouro Tech "
And beneath it a hand drawn sigil of Ouro Tech and their subsidiaries.
Bryce was stunned. The subtle scent of earth and moss rose from the paper in front of him. The sunlight catching subtle silvery filigree-like glints off the page. He read the paragraph, once, twice… Finally with his ‘professional editor head’.
He knew he was raw, overwhelmed and overly sensitive at the moment. One thing was for certain. In any universe he was aware of, this was not a standard welcome note.
R2L Activate please.
[Hello Bryce, I am reading elevated stress markers. How can I assist you?]
I am going to find a bathroom and wash, and likely go sleep after that. Please engage quiet mode. Sorry, no, that’s not correct. R2L quiet mode. I need you to monitor me and my surroundings actively, but don’t disturb me.
He found the bathroom easily. An understated room with a large walk in shower, and a door leading off to what he hoped was the bedroom. Letting the robe drop, he walked into the shower and stood under it until the water steadied his hyperactive mind. Wrapping himself back into the robe, he went through the mystery door.
He stood at the entrance to the large bedroom, faced with a wall of glass with sliding doors to the balcony and layers of softly tinted sheer curtain panels. The room glowed but didn’t feel overly bright or hot. A bed, big enough to accommodate half a dozen people dominated the room.
What do I even call this? Super King? Emperor? An Archon-sized bed?
The feeling of something not being quite right prickled at the edge of his perception. He didn’t care. He was too tired to care. Dropping the robe, he crawled under the sumptuous cover, the exquisite sheets luring him deeper. He flopped in the middle, ensconced by a cavalcade of luxurious pillows, the mattress moulding to his body in a borderline obscene way. He had enough left in him to hug a couple of pillows to his chest and body, pull the cloud-like duvet over himself, and he was gone.
[Bryce_Echo_one_report: Adjustment in progress, vitals holding, dream state achieved.]