"If you're lucky to have the finest of genes, then you're perfect."
Paragon is known to be the haven of perfection. A society built on walls, dividing different cities for people with different genetic levels.
Perfect citizens will be automatically...
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10 DAYS EARLIER
Outside the boundary of these room, no noise can be heard. But inside of its walls, in this dim-lit place, the thumping of my heart growls, begging to be freed from its chambers. It screams.
"Do you think I'm gonna die?"
Alynne heaves no response. Her silence matches the dead atmosphere the room has been giving. Dusts ride the wind and fall into a deep sleep as it lands on my bare skin. It swirls in circle before completely becoming stale.
"How bad is it? Is it lethal?"
"Don't be ridiculous. There are no dents, no blown up fuse. Your wires look alright too. You're all good." Alynne says as she carefully scans the images and numerical data displayed on her computer screen. It hurts my head just by simply staring at it.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yep, a hundred percent," she replies. "Even though it appears to be faulty, I don't think something's broken."
Due to the recent troubles and threats, Harvey is starting to get worried about my cyberware's condition. He says that the blaring noise I've been making might strain my throat or the piece of tech might get fried—somewhere between those lines. So his advice is to let it be consulted by Alynne since she's the only person here who's smart enough to handle various technologies, even the most complicated ones.
"Can you check it again? B-because when I shout, my voice disappears," I attribute with certainty. "I couldn't quite put a finger on it. It's hard to explain."
She squints her eyes with a puzzled look, "I studied this tech back in the Nursery. In most cases, the outer part of the neck are usually the problem which includes its usage as a neck pillar or the like. Involvement of the inner organ—vocal chords, in your case—is definitely rare."
I nod and place my hand on top of it, slowly trailing my fingers on its very well-crafted, intricate details.
"It's safe to assume that the main component of your cyberware is an artificial larynx with a rigid titanium structure. I've read that having those transplants greatly affects the host's voice. I think that's the case here."
"So is it okay if I scream again?"
"You can, but you also have to put some limits," she suggests, shifting her glasses. "They might also have replaced your epiglottis and the paralyzed side of your vocal fold. I bet they did 'cause if they didn't, the accomplishment of your implants' two primary functions will not be feasible."
For a brief moment, I feel dumb. She's straight up spitting information like the genius that she is. I'm not even on her level. She's like a talking book. I can't exactly follow where she's coming from and how fast she turns her own pages, but I think I'm getting her point. I hope so.
