RANGER ADAIR

Wait, did they take the implant out when this was all over? For all the briefings that he’d gone through in the past few weeks, he couldn’t recall if they did or didn’t. Because it was one thing to have someone in your head in order to help you fight, it was another entirely to be connected to them for the rest of your life.

It wasn’t until Jem echoed his own thoughts that he looked up, his attention once more on the matter at hand. He was getting himself all worked up over the future, when the present hadn’t even come to pass. Hell, for all he knew, he could die on their first mission.

Now that was something to worry about.

He took a long, cursory glance at his new partner. Modeled after a teenage boy by all appearances, he certainly did not seem formidable. But looks could be deceiving.

The A.I. did not seem to be particularly impressed with him either if his casual tone was anything to go by. And there went the little bit of confidence that the agent had tried to salvage. He hadn’t expected his A.I. to run to his side like a new puppy, to nip at his heels and look for his approval but… But he’d at least like him to look like he wasn’t the most detestable partner he could have received.

He’d like it if the A.I. would talk to him instead of the labcoat beside him. Like he wasn’t smart enough to answer his queries. Like he wasn’t worthy or something.

Goddammit, what had he gotten himself into?

Ey spent the entire duration of the shake glaring pointedly at the director: the only reason ey had condescended to touching the Agent was resting purely on this authority’s presence.

"Yes," ey responded, eyes still trained with hostile intensity on the man and his coat and his official bloody clipboard. "That’s what they gave me." Jem finally turned eir head to the Agent, and shrugged. Then ey swung eir legs and hopped delicately off the bench, strolled around to the side and drummed impatiently on the cool surface. 

It took him a few minutes to realize he was the only one in the room laughing.

His laughter died out then, replaced with the dull hum of overhead lighting and nothing else. The man standing across from him, the man holding his files in hand, looked none too impressed with his reaction. He wondered if they’d kick him out before he even began. But the man simply wrote something down on his little clipboard — probably something about him being a complete nitwit — and instructed for Columbus to follow.

Along with his new name, he was to be paired with an A.I. as part of this Project. He’d been told they would aid his performance on the battlefield, though they would not follow him into such terrain themselves. It seemed odd that any partner he might have could be of any help if they were not beside him, but he was willing to give it a shot.

Not like he really had a choice in the matter.

The procedure had been explained to him in great detail. A chip would be embedded in the back of his skull, one that would connect his mind to his A.I. Columbus had to admit, the idea of sharing his thoughts with another being unnerved him, but maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe after he met this A.I., he’d feel a little better.

Columbus put his faith in his A.I., for all that he’d never met them. He had to believe that they would not make this as terrible as it sounded. But as he was led down the hallway, led to the A.I. awaiting him, a deep feeling of dread started to settle in his gut.

He was led into a room, one that reminded him of a medical bay but… But it wasn’t quite the same, was it? Sitting atop a bench, looking entirely nonplussed about all the machinery surrounding them, Columbus started to step forward.

Bored, Jem took to inspecting eir nails. The colour of eggshells, mounted on fingertips complete with minute grooves and swirls for fingerprints. No doubt the exact same as every one of eir ‘brothers and sisters’. The other machines, imitations of humanity, made in their image as if it were the best way to be.

As it happened, ey had unknowingly turned emself into a perfect, picturesque image of complete boredom by the time the Agent had walked in. Leaning back on one hand, elbow locked, inspecting eir nails, cool and nonchalant in the cold glaring light of the lab. The doors blipped and slid open, and two sets of softly clicking shoes announced the humans’ arrival. Jem’s eyes — black in the dark, and honey in the light — swivelled up.

Ah, so there he was. At two days, six hours, and forty-eight minutes — late, in the A.I’s book.

Jem folded eir hand into a fist and, gaze still fixed on eir ‘partner’, slowly lowered it, to be flattened calmly by eir side. Your unit. Ey tipped eir head to the back just a tad, scrutinising the Agent for a moment. “This him?” ey said, slipping a glance to the other man. Looked Columbus critically up and down, a look of faint disdain touching eir features. “Huh,” ey said, quite as if ey had been expecting different. The reality was, however, that ey hadn’t been.

Tall, solid build, that much he had going, and it wasn't like he didn't look the part. Maybe a few more battle-scars — visible ones at least — to let em know ey hadn’t gone through all that rubbish to be deemed ‘worthy’ of some wimp. But no. As far as eir fancy new-fangled photoreceptors could make out, Agent Columbus was just some guy. Great, Jem thought. Had to be deemed suitable for Just Some Guy.

Oh well. Chances were, whatever was stored up in his mind there would make up for it. And, if ey was optimistic, ey’d entertain the assumption that someone had to be pretty damn good to get into this project. To ‘get’ Jem, though ey was fairly sure both parties knew there’d be no ‘getting’ about it. But there was still very much a difference ‘pretty damn good’ and ‘interesting’. A gaping chasm, in fact. One that, if it meant somehow spiriting to the other side, Jem would probably not hesitate to push someone into.