Recovery of Rez 11

His quarters were tiny. The contract placed everyone in his class of independent operators in a decommissioned hotel of sorts, itself waiting renovation. It needed it badly. Someone in the room next to his was making an awful racket during one sleep cycle, so he was not at his best the next day. He found himself waiting for a wall to be cleared and the workmen were struggling with corroded fasteners. That’s when he caught himself, too late, looking at the woman.
He had turned off his camera, and was staring aimlessly into the space above door level on a store front. Seated on a folding chair, when a figure passed close to him, his eyes followed when it stopped just a few steps away. The wild coloration of her hair was what got his attention, rather like exotic bird plumage.
She was tall, but he saw right away part of it was from prosthetics. Apparently she either used an implant for the purpose, or had been wearing this stuff a long time, because she moved quite easily and comfortably. An awful lot of people around this place had different types and configurations of such prosthetic devices, and some were clearly not yet accustomed, but this gal was the exception. He estimated some portions of her figure were also artificial but the overall effect was surprisingly pleasant to see. As his eyes swept up her body, he froze when he realized she was looking back at him.
Their eyes locked for an instant, just long enough for him to decide there was nothing behind hers, no soul. Instead, he detected that same bottomless hunger he had seen before. Inside, he shivered. Perhaps some tiny measure of his disappointment registered on his face, but he closed his eyes and turned away. He knew that very thing would be taken differently by different people. He was hoping she would be turned off by it, perceiving she had failed to impress him, which was the truth.
He was wrong. She must have taken it as challenge, but he didn’t know until later.
The workmen had finally removed the wall section exposing yet one more inexplicable device with wires running to it. He made quick work of it because his display indicated under penetrating wavelengths it wasn’t too complicated. Just a half dozen shots, and it was transmitted almost immediately over the uplink with time and location. He turned to check if the transmitter showed another assignment yet, and found her standing right in front of him.
Her prosthetics probably offered variable height, because while he was sure she had walked past slightly taller than him, she was now facing him at eye level. She held out what appeared a human hand, and introduced herself as Kehli, spelling it for him. The flesh of her hand was a little unnaturally soft, he decided. With the absolute minimum of words, he offered a pseudonym for himself. He maintained full eye contact simply because he refused to let her intimidate him, despite the black feelings lurking at the edges of his mind.
Over the centuries, various corporations had explored just how far they could go with prosthetic enhancements of their mercenary troops. Eventually such large scale modifications became too unprofitable. Given most warfare could easily be confined to machines and AI warfare, there was always a place for assassins, people who were expensive to train and equip, but highly effective with carefully selected prosthetics. However, the only barrier to finding other applications for such technology was simply costs. Someone who could earn enough pay could easily purchase whatever level of enhancement pleased them. However, most of the people who did this were the same empty souls as any assassin or torturer — psychopaths with no conscience at all. She might as well have been a demon possessed robot.
Rez was like every other young man growing up in the colonies, having passed through the same mandatory military training for defense purposes. He could never be as fast or strong as someone using prosthetic enhancements, but he understood with an absolute certainty he would probably have to use his one advantage some day in physical conflict. During his recovery with the Brotherhood, he had added back some of the martial arts practice to his regular pre-breakfast workouts. He wasn’t thinking about whether he could defend himself against a raging prosthetic enhanced psychopathic bitch, but was calculating how he could avoid finding himself in need of trying.
All of this went through the back of his mind while he was listening to her explain she was a senior executive in the management of the facility in which they stood. He was tempted to run down that hall at that moment to escape. She was theoretically in his chain of command, as it were, someone who had access to his contract. Instead, he thought of a way to rebuff her suggestion he join her for dinner after his shift.
It wasn’t lying to say he had other plans. His actual habit had been to climb the access shaft to the huge curved surface which served as a roof on the place. The wind was just about strong enough most evenings to keep him from hearing too much else. The workmen had a long pause in working on the roof waiting for materials, so he was usually able to find an isolated spot to be alone and virtually invisible to the rest of the people on this planet. He would eat a simple meal up there as he continued exploring the landscape of his newly healed soul.
Perhaps in a previous era of human society she would not have dared be so forward as to make such an invitation, but the ebb and flow social fashion here and now made it common for women to be pushy. She said with a clear note of coldness, “You need to reconsider your answer. I’ll be back later.”
As she turned and walked away, he could swear he saw her rise a few centimeters in height.