Cognitive Deviance

20. Equality

April 10, 2045 - 7:45 pm

Bod-Modders. One of many other groups of people taking advantage of society's advancements.

It started off with war veterans receiving the most state-of-the-art prosthetics Psychwatch could offer them. The burden of blindness would disappear with just the installation of artificial eyes or even a visor connected to the individual's optic nerves, giving its user a chance to see the world again and all the people they've saved. An arm once used to pull a trigger but lost in the chaos of war could be replaced with something stronger, a limb of pure bionic material nearly indistinguishable from their real arm. Now its user could hold the hand of their loved one once more.

But that need turned into a want, another necessity devolving into a desire. Cybernetic limbs replacing what was once lost wasn't enough. They were still connected to the rest of a fragile, imperfect human being. How can something be perfect if it still bleeds?

This is where the Bod-Modders emerged. They'd sacrifice everything that once had value to them if it meant replacing as much of their physical form with cybernetics as possible. If one limb was artificial, then all of them should be. They could run faster, punch harder, make enemies more easily. If an ocular implant could restore vision, then why not give them the ability to see something beyond the world in front of them? How about the ability to see electrical signals drifting through the air like leaves in the autumn wind? See through walls and clothing? See through people's lies?

Humans were no longer satisfactory, the Bod-Modders often thought. They have too many bugs in their system. Bugs like morality and standards, holding them back from achieving their true potential.

And much like the poor young girl they had forced into the freezing cold shower, they screamed way too much.

Back in the warehouse that would soon fall to Psychwatch an hour later, two Bod-Modders known only as Braddock and Gaff guarded the door to a shower, each armed with a gun. If one saw Braddock from a distance, it would look as if he was wearing some kind of futuristic armor. But his charcoal, metal arms and legs were, in fact, his physical being. Everything below his neck was manufactured and wired by mankind, and his robotic torso and artificial muscles were visible through his unzipped longcoat. Gaff was a little more visibly human, at least on the outside. His eyes were replaced with an optical visor implanted directly into his skull, and everything on his arms, from his fingertips to his elbows, was synthetic. The two cyborgs were as emotionless as the machines they wished to become, not even flinching at the agonized screams of the girl locked inside the shower.

"That's enough," Braddock growled in his synthetic voice.

Gaff lowered his weapon and placed his hand on a small handle connected to a series of pipes trailing along the walls and ceiling. He carefully lowered it to its original position, and the sound of running water subsided. The girl's screams grew quieter, fading into softer but equally harrowing sobs. Trading in his gun for a towel hanging on a rack besides him, Gaff opened the door into the chamber and peeked his head inside.

A cool spray of mist dampened his visor. The concrete floor was smeared with dirty water and blood as it carefully streamed toward the drain. A teenage girl was crouched in the corner, still crying fearfully to herself, goosebumps rippling across her skin as a shiver went down her spine. Gaff couldn't tell whether the water trickling down her face was from the shower or her tears, and never in his life would he ever care.

"Alright, I'm coming in, sweetheart," he said. "I've got a nice warm towel just for you. Just dry yourself up, put on some clothes, and you'll get to see the others again."

"Stay away!" she shrieked, backing further into the wall.

"Listen, honey, we've got a schedule to keep. We just gotta wash up the rest of your friends, then we're selling you and the robo-whores to the House of Pleasure. Whether or not you make it out of there alive isn't my problem. Understand?"