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| A cyberpunk short story |
Copyright 2014, Pippa Jay
All rights reserved.
Someone pounded on his door. Damien jerked out of bed, heart hammering. Had ReGen realized their mistake? Were they coming to wipe the rest of his memories?
Reality swept over him as the last of the fog of sleep faded. He wasn’t a hermit. People often came to visit, though they weren’t usually so loud about it.
He pushed off the bed, a slight stiffness making his movements awkward. He clipped the doorframe on his way out and cursed at the spike of pain in his shoulder. Clumsy! The last thing he wanted to do was damage this new body so soon after a reboot.
“Hold on!” he yelled at the unknown visitor hell-bent on punching a hole through his front door.
He was still clothed from last night, but he paused in front of his mirror to drag his fingers through the tufts of his dark hair. “Yes, all right. I’m coming!” He tugged his shirt straight. “Open.”
A dark-haired woman stumbled through the door and fell against him. “Damien!”
His arms circled her by instinct, but the impact sent him staggering back a step or two.
“Whoa!”
She gazed up at him, her hazel eyes red-rimmed as if from crying, and her pretty face screwed into wrinkles. “I was so worried. When you didn’t come over last night…”
“Last night? Come where?” Her body pressed into his was causing all kinds of interesting reactions, but confusion overrode them. “Who are you?”
“Who?” Her eyes widened, and she jerked out of his embrace. “What’s wrong with you?”
Fear swamped him again, a cold that chilled him to the bone. “Diagnostics says I’m fine.”
“Diagnostics?” She backed away, as if he’d morphed into the worst kind of monster, then grabbed his right hand. Damien flinched as she rubbed her thumb hard over the back of his hand. Over the place where his scar had been. “Oh…” She dropped his hand, her head still bowed. “Oh, Damien.”
“What?”
Her gaze knifed through him, accusing. “You’ve been rebooted.”
Reality swept over him as the last of the fog of sleep faded. He wasn’t a hermit. People often came to visit, though they weren’t usually so loud about it.
He pushed off the bed, a slight stiffness making his movements awkward. He clipped the doorframe on his way out and cursed at the spike of pain in his shoulder. Clumsy! The last thing he wanted to do was damage this new body so soon after a reboot.
“Hold on!” he yelled at the unknown visitor hell-bent on punching a hole through his front door.
He was still clothed from last night, but he paused in front of his mirror to drag his fingers through the tufts of his dark hair. “Yes, all right. I’m coming!” He tugged his shirt straight. “Open.”
A dark-haired woman stumbled through the door and fell against him. “Damien!”
His arms circled her by instinct, but the impact sent him staggering back a step or two.
“Whoa!”
She gazed up at him, her hazel eyes red-rimmed as if from crying, and her pretty face screwed into wrinkles. “I was so worried. When you didn’t come over last night…”
“Last night? Come where?” Her body pressed into his was causing all kinds of interesting reactions, but confusion overrode them. “Who are you?”
“Who?” Her eyes widened, and she jerked out of his embrace. “What’s wrong with you?”
Fear swamped him again, a cold that chilled him to the bone. “Diagnostics says I’m fine.”
“Diagnostics?” She backed away, as if he’d morphed into the worst kind of monster, then grabbed his right hand. Damien flinched as she rubbed her thumb hard over the back of his hand. Over the place where his scar had been. “Oh…” She dropped his hand, her head still bowed. “Oh, Damien.”
“What?”
Her gaze knifed through him, accusing. “You’ve been rebooted.”
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