Chapter Nineteen - Humanity Degraded


    When cybernetic replacements became more common, there was this prevalent fear that they would make a person less human.


    The notion that having a bionic heart or a mechanical hand makes a person any less greedy, vain, prideful, and dumb, is entirely wrong, of course.


    --Excerpt from a VoidFight Forum post, 2033


    ***


    So, where are we going? I asked as we pushed past the entrance into... I guessed it was the Ratways, at least judging by the stencils on the nearest wall.


    Down this passage until that large junction ahead into sludge line 537. It looks like its a big tunnel that goes on for... a few kilometres actually. It might be a long walk, Gomorrah said.


    If I may interject, Myalis said, speaking through my coms so everyone could hear. The locals use vehicles to travel across the larger lines, including sludge line 537.


    Whos that? Rac asked.


    I heard Franny inhaling. That was a saints companion, she said with a weird amount of reverence.


    Thats just Myalis, my AI, I said.


    Just? Myalis asked.


    Shes very arrogant for a bunch of ones and zeroes, I added.


    Myalis was quiet for a while. I wont argue, except to correct you on two mistakes you have made. First, it isnt arrogance if it is entirely earned. Second, Im hardly made of something as primitive as binary.


    Your AI is a lot more vocal than Atyacus, Gomorrah said. She ducked under a low-hanging pipe, and I did the same right after her.


    You mean Myalis is more interesting than your Atyacus, I shot back.


    The Ratways really deserved their names. The passageway was a long series of corridors, cut apart by large bulkhead doors that were usually left wide open. Each segment was filled with pipes, either vertical along the sides, or straight horizontal pipes that cut across the ceiling. QR labels were slapped onto all of them, though I imagined some of the pipes werent being used for much, especially those that looked like they were rusted through.


    There was a nice sludge of decomposing detritus in the corners, though I did recognize some of the trash. Cups and straws and brightly coloured boxes from a few fast food joints I knew.


    People ahead.


    I blinked out of my reverie and focused. Gomorrah wouldnt say something like that for shits and giggles.


    I tapped Gomorrah on the shoulder. Let me check ahead, I said.


    She nodded, then shifted to the side where part of the cement wall that jutted out would cover her a little better. Her flamethrower came up, ready to spray whatever goop she had in there.


    Walking carefully, I moved up to the next bulkhead. The door was all metal, and about as thick as my thumb. It had some instructions stickered to it and a complicated wheel lock. I made sure not to touch it as I peeked into the next room over.


    It was a larger segment. The ceiling still low, but the room was wider, with cement half-walls spaced out evenly across. There was a bulkhead at the end, but also one to the right, between two cement half-arches that reached the ceiling.


    I couldnt see anyone, but it wasnt hard to hear the shuffling of cloth and the slow sound of people breathing.


    Well done, I said.


    Thats three for me, two for you, Gomorrah said.


    I blinked. Was she being competitive all of a sudden? Wed worked together for a few days and Id never really had the impression she cared about getting more kills or anything of the sort. Then again, we had never fought with an audience watching over us. You know what my aim is like, I said.


    Gomorrah hummed something noncommittal and moved over to one of the ambushers, who was stuck in the foam in such a way the top of his head was still partially visible. His eyes were darting around madly, and he was twitching from side to side to try and free himself. Gomorrah pointed the end of her flamerthrowers nozzle into his face. We have questions, she said.


    Then she fired.


    Id half expected fire, and from the gasp I overheard, so had Franny. Instead, a yellowish liquid splattered onto the guys face and the foam melted away, revealing his entire head. Whaa! he shouted.


    I had to hold back a snort at that. Seeing as how there wasnt anyone around, I flicked off my cloaking. Hey there, pal, I said. Myalis, shut off their comms, please. And can you root around and see what they were thinking?


    Five guys with what looked like pneumatic guns trying to take out even a single samurai was suicidal, at least by most standards.


    Who are you, and why were you trying to ambush me? Gomorrah asked.


    Didnt know you were a samurai! he said. We heard some corpo-types were here making noise.


    And your first idea was to attack?


    This is our home! he shouted.


    I shook my head. This guy sounded like he was on the wrong end of zealous. Who told you we were here? I asked.


    The doc! The doc pays attention to that kind of thing.


    I do have some messages from a contact calling itself Doc Hack. They claim a single corporate agent would be at our current location and they should be killed and disposed of.


    I shut off my helmet comms. Any sign that the good Doc knew we were samurai?


    No obvious signs, no.


    Anything about the folk were looking for? I asked.


    Not directly. But there might be some oblique references. Doc Hack has been putting out requests on whats essentially a community bounty board for cybernetic parts. It seemed quite urgent.


    Huh, I said. Can you figure anything out from the sort of parts theyre looking for? I asked.


    At a guess, they are converting more people into Sewer Dragons. Notably, a group was praised for breaking into a factory from its sewer connection and stealing a crate full of commercial-grade cybernetic lung replacements.


    Fuck, I said.


    That didnt bode well.


    ***