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Gamma Protocol (100)
🕑 Added 2025-09-21 20:50:55 +0000 UTC[100]
I lost.
That was the first thing that came to my mind the moment I regained consciousness, it was a cold rock in my gut.
Shadow had been right all this time and I hadn’t even considered the possibility because I’d been too focused on the here and now without considering the consequences of my actions.
“Fuck.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken the word, it felt alien in my tongue even when I no longer had a neuralink watching writing down everything for later review. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” I thrashed in the hospital bed for half a second, then stopped when my whole body chose to remind me, exactly, just how much of a beating I’d received. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I added through gritted teeth as my bones screamed, leaving me panting and breathing ragged.
It took a minute before one particular thought caught up with me.
“Why am I alive?” Elder Fulton wanted me dead, and I hadn’t really had much of a doubt that she would’ve taken the attack as an excuse to stomp me flat, so…
I looked around. There wasn’t an answer waiting for me, the room was empty, my arms were plugged into a series of tubes leading to a series of colorful bags. There were several scanners hovering overhead, humming away. But the room was otherwise empty. It didn’t seem like I was a prisoner, I wasn’t tied down, and the door didn’t look all that sturdy, but then again, breathing was like drinking fire, so…
So I just laid down and suffered quietly.
Or tried to.
AP: 144 / 200
I looked at the little notification as it danced little, unassuming circles in the corner of my eye. “You’re back?” I croaked, and it rattled a moment, pretended it hadn’t heard me, and went back to doing the little circles a bit more excitedly now. I rolled my eyes at it, pretended to be irritated, then mentally poked it a little harder.
With a chirp and an all too eager flood, the system exploded to cover every inch of vision, like a kid eager to show off a new toy.
Axel Garcia [Magubo]
Level 3 [(+)][(+)]
Strength: 8 [(+)][(+)]
Speed: 8 [(+)]
Agility: 7 [(+)]
Durability 5 [(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)]
Senses 5 [(+)]
Endurance 7 [(+)][(+)]
Charisma 10 [(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)][(+)]
That was a lot of pluses on durability. I couldn’t help but stare as I felt like it was the receipt of everything I’d gone through these past couple of weeks. I was mostly just pleasantly surprised that the system even bothered to keep track of that sort of stuff even when I was in that weird state.
I mentally clicked on durability, better try and take this slowly.
Durability 5 -> 6
My body began to glow as I felt the rush that spread through me.
Durability 6 -> 7 -> 8 -> 9 -> 10 -> 11
Panic quickly followed as the system had opted to not wait.
The rush of general relaxation that had started to trickle out of my bones violently rushed outwards to fill out every inch of me. “Nooooo.”
Strength 8 -> 9 -> 10
Speed 8 -> 9
Agility 7 -> 8
Senses 5 -> 6
Endurance 7 -> 8 -> 9
The world and my body became something so deeply comfortable it was uncomfortable, like numbed muscles that teetered at the edge of waking up. It was a sensation at every level over every inch. My veins pulsed with a red glow, my nerves lit up and danced with sparks, my eyes rang loudly and my ears buzzed with the hum of the very disconcerted medical machines I was plugged into.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck meeeeeeeee…”
Someone was going over every cell in my body and hammering it with a chisel to make it better. A good pain that was almost bad. My face, my arms, my shoulders, my legs, it was as if every bone in my body was turning into jelly and then reforming back. All the while every muscle had turned into soup, holding on with a weak grip while I was undergoing the deepest of tissue massages in history while the system sang as if it had just let go of years of stress.
I could do nothing but ride out the sparks that had become my whole existence, trying to keep my face from melting off. I lied there for what felt like an hour before my body began to respond to my input again.
The clock on one of the monitors indicated it hadn’t even been five minutes.
Everything was sharp and painful and new and raw. The injuries were gone, my bruises had evaporated, tender bones rebuilt and feeling like I was wearing a tank underneath my skin.
My stomach roared, demanding attention.
As if on cue, the door opened and a droid rolled in, all white and smooth and a tiny nurse cap. It had a food trolley it deposited before rolling back out.
The trolly didn’t last five minutes.
Another would soon accompany it.
And another.
And another.
And another.
I eyed level up and charisma up buttons, the system held them there, apparently satisfied with “unloading” those stat bumps for the time being. Seeing how nervously every machine in the room was beeping, I didn’t feel like giving even more details to whoever was watching on the other side.
As my gaze lingered on the five level ups for charisma that would definitely push me into a new threshold, I had a second reason I didn’t want to see what was at the other side of that door.
I was sure that the charisma stat had to be tied to that alternate version of the system.
---
After my hunger had been sated, a new nurse bot showed up, this time full of little sensors that hovered over me and beeped. It took a minute before it seemed satisfied and let me out of the room towards the cleaning facilities.
The mirror showed me a face and body that was slightly different than what I remembered it should be. I looked like I’d stepped out of a gym membership ad that had stopped half-way during the “before vs after” transformation. My body felt more solid, made of something denser, but it also looked like it’d been trimmed. The lines of my face and shoulders were sharper, my height was at least an inch or two later, and my joints were knobbly. My hands especially, now that I got a closer look, felt larger, with knuckles that protruded just enough that clenching my fist made it look like a battering ram.
I wasn’t sure how to take this.
Though I showered quickly, a new set of clothes were waiting for me outside. A black business suit that looked more expensive than anything I’d worn, and felt so soft to the touch… it was definitely more expensive than anything I’d ever worn.
I hated how it fit like a custom-made glove, but wasn’t about to turn the blatant bribe down when it was either that or the towel. Was this the Elder’s doing or someone else? A different droid led me out of the changing room and towards a conference room.
There was a robot waiting for me there, a projection droid, a cylinder on wheels that was showing the upper torso of a red-head woman with an easy smile. “Welcome, Axel Garcia,” it said with a bow. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am CYPHER-Magubo-Alex, you may call me CAM for short. Please, have a seat.”
CYPHER
Suddenly, the walls of the room felt a lot tighter, my ass hit the chair. “Ma’am.” I swallowed a rock.
“Do not be afraid, Axel Garcia, my goal today is to optimize our future interactions. There are no wrong answers.” It gestured at the table in front of me and the tablet that had been lying there lit up. “Everything I know about you is on this tablet. I’ve taken the liberty of preemptively tagging some of the content as non-relevant for future cooperation, but please make sure to verify it in case I’ve made any mistakes. There is no rush, I am here to help smooth the administrative integration process.”
Looking through the folder and report headers was like watching my whole life dissected before me. Everything I’d done until I met Moreau had been registered, recorded, and saved, from multiple data sources no less. Every nutri-bar, every bus ticket, every irregular sleep cycle, every test score, every person I met, how long, for what reason.
Everything.
Everything except one thing.
“Why is my mother’s name blank?” I asked.
“It was due to corporate management data privacy requests.”
I hesitated, bile rose up my throat, privacy requests didn’t matter if you’re dead. “She’s alive?!”
“I do not have access to that information.” CAM replied with the barest shrug. “Would you consider requesting that information as necessary for future positive collaboration?”
My mouth faltered as I nearly spoke out an affirmation, then thought better. “No,” I said, trying to push the thought aside. If my mother was alive, then it didn’t matter. She’d abandoned our family, she was a stranger I’d never met, never thought of.
I poured over the content that’d been labelled as “non-relevant”, and found another oddity. “Why isn’t porn in the proposed non-relevant list?”
“According to observed results based on interactions between CYPHER-Meguca and Megucas, molding my holographic appearance and behaviour to 12% match pre-transformation sexual preferences increases likelihood of positive interactions. However, you have not shown any response to my current appearance at any physiological level. Would you prefer to customize me directly?”
“What’s the point of all this?” I tried to grasp at something that made sense. “What’s your primary task? Why are you doing this?”
“My primary function is to be your representative within the CYPHER hierarchy system. My secondary function is to convince you to assist CYPHER-Main's goals. My tertiary function is to provide you with assistance however I can. You may think of me as your personal diplomat, envoy, lawyer, and mediator, though my roles can be expanded if you wish.” It bowed again.
“And… this is standard?”
“Every Meguca has their own CYPHER sub-node, yes. Some prefer to have their sub-node be no more than a glorified contact phone, others prefer a full interactive assistant. My default standard is the one you are interacting with currently. Do you have a preference, Mr Garcia?”
The room was slightly spinning. “Just Axel is fine,” I combed my fingers through my head. “What’s this ‘administrative integration process’?”
“CYPHER has control over many different types of communication protocols and resources. The integration process requires building a tailored set of resources to allocate for your specific needs. According to Meguca Shadow’s report, you were already informed of some privileges she has.”
I remembered how she’d made a corporation’s drones just leave us alone without so much as a thought. “So I could just get the privilege to set up no-go zones?”
“Yes, though I would advice you only do this if it’s truly necessary for your optimal operations as a Magubo.” It answered without missing a beat, and the smile on the hologram’s lips thinned a fraction. “Honesty is the cornerstone of a lasting partnership.”
As it said this, the folder I was looking at in the tablet minimized and another one opened. “Shush Monster” it read, and it had every scrap of available information on me, every little clip from every little security camera or neuralink. Most of it was practically a black hole of information up until the C-class fight. After that point the folders were loaded with videos, reports, and speculation.
Three folders were marked as “priority sources”. One was from an “Elder Summer”, the other from Shadow, and the third from Elder Fulton. The former of the three only had some written reports, the latter contained the fight, recorded from a dozen angles.
My throat tightened.
“Before we begin, please keep in mind that the amount of resources that can be allocated to your needs will remain proportional to your proven utility within CYPHER’s goals.” The projection broke the silence. “The more you become a net positive for those goals, the more resources you will have access to. To make this function simpler for use, CYPHER built a catalogue of standardized options.”
The tablet blinked, the screen shifted, and I saw a number hanging on the upper right of the screen.
HL: 2,134,003
“What’s the number represent?”
“It is an abstract number calculated by CYPHER-Meguca based on measured impact.” CAM answered. “Though not a direct one to one correlation, you may think of it as Human Lives saved.”
I choked, a well of indescribable emotions surging within me. “That can’t… be right.”
“CYPHER-Main has no need to bloat the number, Axel. But I could place a request for a detailed breakdown if you wish.”
“N-no, I... I think that'll be fine.” I swallowed hard, finding my hands shaking and a gut-wrenching relief washing over me. I didn’t know what to feel, just staring at those digits was… I couldn’t name it, it made my throat tighten. Actual undeniable proof of… everything I’d done. It hadn’t been for nothing.
It took a minute to calm myself down enough to properly look at the catalogue. Yet as I began to look through it, I began to frown.
“I… don’t understand the prices here. How would requesting CYPHER to block my face from appearing in social media feeds without authorization cost… 500 HL?”
“The cost is an estimation, not a certainty. Every resource is accounted for, therefore, almost all requests require taking from somewhere else.” CAM explained with total impassivity. “For example, the computational power for trawling through feeds to purge unauthorized Axel related content could be taken from systems being used for creating a life-saving medicine, delaying its completion, and thus distribution, by hours, thus five hundred lives that could have been saved would not be. This is why all expenses should remain for strictly necessary things.”
The earlier relief twisted into a knot.
Two million lives.
The tablet suddenly felt far heavier than it should have.
“Can’t the resources be taken from less critical things? Like, maybe a gaming server?”
“The estimated costs already account for resources being diverted from lower priority tasks,” CAM proclaimed. “In accordance to the Free-Will protocols, CYPHER cannot use resources that are under humanity’s discretion. Not without a critical enough circumstance to merit such action.”
It made sense in a grim kind of way. CYPHER didn’t need rest, media, or anything a human might. It had no reason not to maximize and optimize every bit and byte of computing power it had available.
But that didn’t make the number blinking up at me any less heavy.
I was starting to get dizzy at the sheer magnitude of what I was looking at, trying to catch up with… two million lives. That’s how much stood in the balance, I could end a theoretical faceless two million lives at the push of a button. I quickly sorted by lowest cost, picked the handful of 0-cost options (all of them centered around providing my social media and banking accounts with meguca-level privileges), and shut the tablet off before I could begin reconsidering.
“Distress is a reasonable response,” CAM said, face gaining a slightly understanding smile, folding holographic hands atop one another, its tone taking an edge that might have sounded like reassurance. “The task of keeping humanity safe is a great one, and CYPHER thanks you for taking this with the seriousness it deserves.”
Looking away, I bit back a cynical laugh. “The fourth district is-”
“Suffering,” CAM’s face took a soft, pained look. “My notes mentioned you considered its wellbeing to be a personal high priority. Unfortunately, CYPHER cannot spare resources to tackle the currently unfolding crisis without it costing more lives than it would save.”
“...the A-class.”
“Among many other things, yes. Saving a district at the cost of losing a city elsewhere would be a net negative result.” They confirmed. “However, CYPHER-Main has taken steps to alleviate the situation.”
As if on cue, or perhaps precisely on cue, the conference room’s door opened and a lone figure entered. Elder Fulton walked into the room and the temperature dropped by a degree or ten as she made her way to sit opposite of CAM, back ramrod straight and head held high. Steely eyes locked onto me with an expression that stood between contempt and a suppressed glare.
“As per your agreement, Elder Fulton will change her vote and move ahead the legal acknowledgement of the fourth district as a populated area.” CAM almost sounded chipper, even as Fulton kept careful perfect neutrality.
I grit my teeth. “The agreement can’t stand because I lost,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
“Do not insult me, boy.” Fulton’s voice was cold ice. “I made my choice.”
CAM spoke up before I could respond. “Elder Fulton, do you have your full consent to alter your vote regarding the legal status of the fourth district, without coercion or outside influence?”
“I do.”
CAM nodded. “Tallying all changed Elder votes, motion passes with 72% super-majority.” The hologram switched from the upper torso of a sharply dressed woman to that of a miniature conference room with a dozen important looking people dressed in suits that could bankroll a household for ten generations. “Do you acknowledge the Elder Council’s unofficial vote as official policy?”
“As the Mayor of this city and speaking on behalf of my fellow representatives, we acknowledge the elder council’s vote.” I noticed there was something in the way he said this that made the man look like he’d swallowed something foul, eyes locked on Fulton with barely masked fury.
But the image switched back to CAM before I could process it. “With the mayoral seat’s acknowledgement, CYPHER-Legal has assigned the fourth district of New Francisco as emergency-special-residential area. It has also declared a state of humanitarian crisis. CYPHER-Market has issued temporary emergency price control measures for goods and resources intended for humanitarian aid. CYPHER-Construction acknowledges requests of urban optimization and future-proofing for New Francisco’s newest district and will have blueprints and phase by phase construction plans within six months. Thank you for your collaboration.” The feed cut off and CAM’s hologram turned to me. “If you require my assistance, please do not hesitate to call for me, Axel.”
CAM’s hologram vanished, leaving the room to a deathly silence.
Fulton’s eyes lingered on the machine before she spoke. “Did you mean it, boy?” She asked after a second, slender neck twisting to realign her head making her gaze was locked on me.
I had many things I wanted to tell her, none of them nice or good.
“For a moment, I honestly wanted you dead,” I said instead. The memory played itself again and again, that instant where the world had gone red, when it had reduced itself to a pinprick of violence. For that split second I had wanted to rake my claws through Elder Fulton’s skull with every fiber of my being, an ugly twisting coiling thing that had taken the steering wheel that I desperately wished hadn’t been me. “Because I knew you were right, that my actions would’ve led to putting people in danger.”
Her face was unreadable as she looked at me, her face a metal mask. “I see,” she spoke, closing her eyes, speaking up once more after a minute. “That… was a very human reaction of you,” she added as she stood up, wire-like fingers tracing the plane of the table before heading for the door. She paused as the threshold. “You might only be a pale imitation of a meguca, boy,” she spoke without turning to look at me. “But see to it that you do not betray Shadow’s expectations.”
The door closed silently in her wake.
The system chose to add its two credits in an indignant chirp.
NEW QUEST!
The Iron Cost (1) - (Elder Class)
Endure Elder Fulton’s Special Training for (14) daysFailure Conditions:
Axel’s death.
Elder Fulton’s death.Rewards:
Durability [+12]
Endurance [+15]
Skill: Bulwark (D-class)
Trait Evolution: Unbreakable Bones [+]
New Quest: The Iron Cost (2)
I barely had a split second to read the rewards before the system had folded the notification like an origami, creating a semblance of a middle finger, and aiming it at the retreating elder.
I agreed with the sentiment.
---
Tomas Akin, AKA:The Banker, had started his morning well enough. The day had brought with it some critical information regarding a corporate squad that’d been sent to the fourth district during the communication black-out. Aeon-Tech had apparently “lost” several key items from their prototype testing programs. What, exactly, had been “lost” was unknown, but the timing was far too coincidental to be mere correlation.
There was a possible angle to play here, but he’d need to dig deeper before he found out what, exactly, that would be.
It’d been in the middle of his fresh-fruits and cheese post-lunch snack that his inbox suddenly exploded with alerts from hundreds of his AI information trackers. High level warnings of massive developments happening in regards to his current objectives.
Tomas only needed to turn on the news to see the horror unfold.
“And it is with great pride that we now announce the Fourth District has been legally recognized by CYPHER-Law as an extension of New Francisco.”
The sound-bit played a thousand different times from a hundred different angles, and the Banker could do nothing but watch as his whole battle-plan was suddenly, and brutally, demolished.
This had been so outside of his expectations, he hadn’t even planned for a contingency. New Francisco had been blatantly ignoring the legal status of the refugees huddled at its gates for practically a century. Why now? How? Who?
“No, the question is irrelevant, if CYPHER got involved this will pass through.” Tomas bit his chrome nail in an attempt to put his thoughts in order. Already the feeds were exploding at every level with severe outrage, the major’s ratings were undoubtedly going to tank, perhaps permanently. The mayor had effectively shot himself in the foot with this, the ratings would tank, he might even get swept out in the next election. The only ones who’d wanted to have those outsiders recognized as citizens were the mushy humanitarian groups, but those were few and far between.
Videos and essays questioning the move were soon joined by attempts at guessing what this would mean moving forward.
Tomas knew, exactly, what this meant moving forward.
“The ISP prices will drop, those damn rats will get their trickle-revenue back.” The death-blow he’d set up by calling in so many favors would get swept under the rug. Something else would be needed, something drastic and far less subtle.
A call showed up, attempting to connect through a secure line.
Before Tomas could answer, a mem-record file was dropped through the private channel from his current employer. It had HoneyHex’s logo and watermark stamped all over it, “test product” slathered on every byte. After he scanned it to make sure there was nothing tricky mixed in, he opened it.
His eyes widened, his lips curled.
He sent Aeon-Tech a small anonymous email with a lot of information.
Comments
guido pier
Tftc
Dreamsteal
TFTC!
Brett Peterson
Thanks for the chapter!
