Tevun-Krus #88 - Post-CyberPunk

Organic - A Short Story by @jinnis

Organic 

By jinnis

Melanie rubbed the grit out of her left eye and focused her right with a gentle whirr on the headline. They had found another organic in the wastelands. As a child, she'd devoured adventure stories featuring wildlings from the olden days, misshaped atrocities living hidden in the ruins of a lost civilisation. Even today, a shiver of joyful anticipation ran down her exospine.

She clicked the appropriate icon and listened to the news anchor while she downed her breakfast nutrition cocktail. But today, the story failed to catch her attention for more than a few minutes. The old magic and lustre were gone. The primitive man was just that, a man without enhancements. No psychic superpowers like in her favourite stories, no exceptional strength or rustic beauty. Just a useless, retarded specimen.

Disappointed, Melanie switched off the news, applied her strawberry mouthwash, polished her new utility glove, and made sure her artificial hair was arranged in a fashionable spiky crown. Then she changed its colour twice—to match it with her purple scrubs—and took the conveyor to the clinic.

A throng of people almost blocked the access gate. Melanie squeezed through, using her reinforced right arm to push the gawkers away, worried they would delay her. She had no time to find out what they came for, as coming late to work was unfashionable and rude.

With a minute to spare, she reached her unit. Florine was already busy preparing the examination room for the first patient. "Mel, glad you're here at last. Did you hear the news? The new bionic components are to be delivered today. I can't wait to see the enhanced designs. But first, we have to prepare for sampling, the doctor on duty insists. Can you help me with the blasted cot?"

Florine was everything Melanie was not. She moved with the grace of a dancer, her bionic components underlining the exotic beauty of her natural curls, brown eye, and full lips. She was a favourite with everyone, from the head doctor to the cleaners. And she could chatter away the whole day, happy, excited, and unconcerned by the things that loaded down Melanie's darker, often troubled mood.

It was a privilege working with such a perfect partner, and Melanie knew it. While Florine studied the scheduled procedure on the task screen, she checked the instruments and made sure they had enough test tubes for samples and that the cooling unit was at the predetermined temperature.

When a warden wheeled in the organic from the news, Melanie suppressed a gasp. "What's he doing here?"

"This? It's our first subject." Florine ushered the warden out and picked up the injector.

Melanie grabbed her sleeve to hold her back. "But he comes from the wilderness, he's a unique specimen."

"Exactly the reason we need to take as many samples as possible before he perishes. Let's get to work, we don't have all day. I want to finish here before they unpack the new collection of enhancements." She shook off Melanie's grip and pressed the injector against the man's jugular.

He gasped, his eyes wide and bloodshot, before he slumped back, unconscious. Melanie gagged when a waft of an abdominal stench engulfed her. The musky scent of sweat, smoke, and something she couldn't place at all. A quick gesture closed her face shield and locked out the offending odour. Florine was already sampling the specimen, and Melanie called herself to order. This was her job, and she was good at it.

Twenty minutes later, they were done with the usual routine. Florine grinned. "That was fast. Now, for the second set."

"The second set?" Melanie felt the blood drain from her left, organic cheek when she saw the instruments her partner picked from the cupboard. "Is this really necessary?"

"What's your problem, Mel? He's purely organic and could never survive in our world, anyway. What would he even eat? His unaltered digestive tract can't cope with the mildest nutritional solutions."

She nodded and picked up the pincer to start with the procedure, ashamed of her emotional fragility.

An hour later, their job was done. They'd provided the lab with all the samples the doctor had asked for. The organic had never moved. When Melanie checked the artery above his collarbone, she couldn't feel a pulse. His skin was cold and clammy. Florine had already changed and left it to her to cover the body.

While she pulled up the sheet, a single tear formed in the corner of Melanie's left eye. She caught it with her shiny platinum finger, a glittering drop on a polished metal surface. Tentatively, she licked it up, savouring the salty twang. It tasted organic, alive, wild. Like the man had been.

It tasted like the fruit of forbidden freedom she'd never know.