Mercy is the concluding part of the Bioringer short story tetralogy, based on the Scrappers/Harvester’s storyline. We continue Ether Chain’s heist to steal a specimen pod for her employer. She’s confronted with a cyborg ghost of her past, complicating the mission.

Enjoy the story in written form, the artwork, and audio through the podcast with improv music.

Mercy

Believing in a higher power is an excellent way to avoid responsibility. Ether Chain, for one, has never been a faithful person of any type. Witnessing how humanity transcended from homosapiens and into the gods they are today is enough for anyone with a rational mind to understand that there is no greater being watching over everyone. It all made sense until today. Ether is starting to change her mind. She’s currently being punished for the betrayal of her partner. The dead can be brought back to life to haunt the living. She is seeing this firsthand, facing Var, who’s been harvested and reconfigured into a biomech.

His pale skin would tell you he is dead, but he breathes. The eyes are lifeless, but he sees. The legs and arms are gone, but he walks with deadly pulse cannons fused to where his arms should be. The ghost of Var is back, reconfigured for vengeance.

Ether was sure the Society harvested bodies only to understand organs. The situation doesn’t seem possible. But Var is alive, sort of, walking past her. The rugged face is his, even with the metal dome that replaces half of his skull. He doesn’t recognize her at all and marches around the bay. Even if he could identify her natural face, her DNA Shift into Robby Cord saved her ass.

Keep it together, Ether thinks. What if he is in there? Should I try and rescue him? What about Blockchain’s deal? The SCs . . . The specimen pod?

Ether must stop the internal chatter; it is not her. She’s Robby cord, an employee of the Society. He’s the one with the anger issues and the head chatter. She must keep her mind focused on the goal if she wants to see those SCs. Damn Blockchain. Damn DNA Shift. Damn Var!

Keep it together.

She walks across the bay and over the bridge connecting the massive gunmetal transport unit to the station. Below the bridge is endless blackness, reminding Ether how far the underbelly of the Society can potentially go. If you’re afraid of heights, it certainly isn’t worth a look. Ether prefers to keep her head up straight, eyeing the vast underground foundation complete with concrete skyscrapers connecting to the ceiling and the luminescent lights from the vertical highways leading to and from the Society.

Ether chooses to enter through the side entrance of the transport unit instead of the large open side doors where workers are loading in hovering metal containers. She wants to get a sense of her surroundings. Through the doorway, she enters the vehicle. Ether’s heart pounds and the sweat drizzles down her body. It’s the classic side effect of bioringing. The body fights against the temporary DNA Shift, attempting to return to its original state. Already she can feel the pain of the bones aching, attempting to become Ether. Her cuff watch says she has a good hour and a half left before the DNA shift reverts.

Inside, under the dim lights, are various employees attending their tasks. Some have computer tablets, checking equipment and monitoring stats on various screens in the hall. Others are directing smaller crates into various rooms. The control center must be on the floor above. None of them notice who the sweaty infiltrator really is. Good.

Ether notes the layout of the halls and reaches the far end of the transport unit, recalling Blockchain’s documents outlining where the pod is. The hall leads to the significant open storage room where employees direct hovering crates. A few taps on the screens command the crates to move vertically and stack on top of one another. Once landed, they automatically bolt to the one below with a self-screwing system, locking them in place and eventually the bottom crate to the ground. It’s far more efficient than a crane.

The screens attached to the crates all have the shipping information from the box number, weight, size, and of course, the items within the containers. She casually walks up and down the various halls, examining each screen. Somewhere in here is that glass pod containing Emi Array, whoever she is.

Ether pretends to examine the cargo as if she belongs. Truthfully, she has no idea what Robby Cord does and cannot overthink it. She needs to act fast and leave. Ideally, Ether can escape with the specimen pod before the transport unit leaves the bay. Based on Blockchain’s documents, she has about an hour.

After several more halls, Ether spots one of interest. Glass pods line the aisle, just like in the photo Blockchain gave her. These are specimens, dozens of them, all lined up neatly in the back. Naked, hairless people are sleeping inside each of them, strapped to the base of the pod with metal cuffs. Perfect.

This transport unit must be going to a laboratory based on the number of specimens here. She can’t help but wonder if Var was put into one of these before they mangled him. Okay, no more reflecting. It’s game time.

Ether pulls out her cuff computer, tapping the screen to double-check Emi Array’s number in the documents. She cross-references each glass pod’s touch screen she passes. One after the other, Ether finally finds the correct number. Inside the pod is the woman. To Ether, they all look the same – sleeping, hairless, test subjects for the Society.

Then again, upon a closer look at the face, the woman must be a good ten years or so older than Ether. There’s a long scar running around her neck, and Ether’s best guess is that this woman is Blockchain’s wife. None of that makes a difference, for Ether simply needs to get her out and get those SCs.

On the touch screen, Ether taps the controls. The screen flickers, stating, “ID PRINT REQUIRED.” Like with the hall door in the station, she places her thumb on it, and the screen scans the fingerprint, identifying her as Robby Cord. It beeps, giving her access, and she punches the interface buttons to enable the pod’s hovering capabilities. After a few taps, the pod hovers off the ground and locks onto her. The screen states, “ROBBY CORD CONDUCTING” as it waits for her next move. Time to get out of this wretched place.

“Another reject pod?” comes a man’s voice.

Ether stiffens due to the commanding voice of the man. He’s in the same blue uniform as Robby’s, marching towards her. In fact, it’s the same man she ran into in the hallway – a pointless observation.

“Yeah, it’s no good.” Ether says. Again, Ether has no idea what she is doing.

“They still haven’t quite worked out all the quirks on those specimen pods, have they? Leaking the damn preservative gas.” The man says, passing her.

“I know, it’s crazy.”

Keep going, Ether thinks while walking down the hall and towards the large open hatch doors leading back to the hangar bay. Biomech guards patrol accordingly in the open space. About three or so are visible now. Ether’s eyes scan the bay back-and-forth, trying to find the easiest way to leave the station. She can’t go out the way she got in, for it’ll attract too much attention. There’s got to be a back exit.

On the opposite side of the bay are wide open doors with a hallway leading straight into the alleyway. Workers are unloading crates from a smaller bronze truck hovering outside. Perfect. The specimen pod follows her with each step, crossing the bridge connecting the transport unit, and onto the hangar bay to the far side.

Come on, come on!

A stack of crates about twenty paces away hovers from a worker’s command, revealing a lumbering biomech guard, moving towards the open doors. The hydraulics hiss with each step the blue metal animal-like legs make. It’s Var, once again. Of course, it would be. A day like today is potentially enough to make Ether genuinely believe in some higher force punishing her for leaving Var. It’s not like Var was a stellar guy, being a bioringer and all, but he meant something to her. Love? Nah, that’s just a chemical imbalance.

There’s no stopping the interaction if Ether wants to get out of here. The biomech version of Var has now stationed himself right by the door, watching as more workers import hovering crates into the hangar bay.

Each step brings her closer. Her heart is punching her chest as the ghost looks right at her with its glazed-over eyes.

“THE SPECIMEN POD HAS BEEN APPROVED,” comes the robotic voice from the vocal box located in the neck. The voice makes Ether ice cold. It’s Var’s voice, without a doubt, but more mechanical. It’s haunting. A real live damn ghost.

“ROBBY CORD, STATE YOUR INTENTIONS.”

“The specimen pod is broken. Leaking gas. It needs to be sent back.”

That lie better work.

“AFFIRMATIVE. I WILL ESCORT IT FROM HERE.”

“No need for that. I’ve got it covered. Stay watch at these doors.”

“NEGATIVE, ANYTHING BEYOND THIS POINT MUST BE ESCORTED BY A SECURITY UNIT.”

“Walk with me then.”

Don’t look at him, Ether thinks.

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

The two move down the hall, side-by-side, as the last of the workers walk past them. Ether takes each step slowly. Being side-by-side with her former partner leaves her stomach in a knotted mess. Biomech guards are about a head and a half taller than humans, and with each step, the metal legs make reverbs against the now-empty hall. It’s alienating the fact that Var is in there. He has to be.

Keep walking.

She gives in, looking over at him and staring at the pulse cannons that replaced his arms. He is more machine than man now. The robotic limbs, various metal plates, and cables fuse to the remaining flesh are filling her with doubt that Var is alive. His eyes look forward, but they don’t see the way a human should.

Just keep walking, Ether thinks.

Ether cannot help herself; this is Var! She says, “when were you stationed at the hangar bay?”

“THIS IS DAY ONE OF DISPATCH.”

“Where were you before?”

“I AM A NEW MODEL, RECENTLY ASSEMBLED FROM MY SOURCE MATERIAL.”

Source my ass, Ether thinks. She cannot get pissed off, but already she is feeling the need to unleash a vengeful attack on the workers at this bay. Yes, they are employed by the Society, but none are directly responsible for what happened to Var, Ether is. She must keep herself in check.

The anger comes from Robby Cord. It’s the DNA Shift. In less than three hours, she’ll never be Robby Cord again. She can be Ether Chain, and those SCs will get her enough to lay low for a while and forget bioringing. Maybe she can start a new life. Hell, apparently, unmodified humans can work for the Society. She has options.

Don’t overthink it. Keep walking.

“So, how do you like your first gig?” Ether asks. There’s no point in her continuing to talk to the biomech, but she needs to know if there’s anything left of Var. It’s a futile attempt. She’s developed a loose form of hope. Perhaps it’s the seed of faith.

“I DO NOT COMPUTE,” the biomech says.

“It’s your first day. You don’t have any feelings on it?”

“I AM INCAPABLE OF SUCH EXPRESSIONS. MY DUTY IS TO THE SOCIETY.”

“What about your source material? Didn’t it come from somewhere, with feelings?”

“AFFIRMATIVE, THE LABORATORY ASSEMBLED ME FROM BOTH MECHANICAL AND ORGANIC MATERIAL.”

“So, you have no memory of anything before being built in the laboratory?”

“AFFIRMATIVE. THE RECORDING LOGS WERE NOT YET ACTIVATED.”

“Of course, they weren’t. So is there a brain in you, or is it just a hard drive?”

“YOU’RE NOT AUTHORISED TO KNOW THE BLUEPRINTS OF MY ANATOMY.”

“Do you know what your organic material did before?”

“THAT IS IRRELEVANT AND NOT ACCESSIBLE BY MY PROGRAMMING.”

By programming . . . He is in there, Ether thinks. If only she had some way of dropping a hint of who she really is. Is it even worth it? Is Var even alive? Perhaps it is just remaining neurons holding onto memory imprints.

They reach the end of the hall, and the biomech examines both ends of the alley, making sure they’re safe. There’s the two of them and the driver who sits in the bronze truck out back. The biomech faces Ether, staring at her with those glassy eyes.

“PLEASE RETURN THE SPECIMEN POD,” the biomech says.

Fuck it, Ether thinks. She takes a step forward to the biomech and raises her hand, pressing the palm against his chest, feeling a mixture of circuitry and flesh above where the man’s heart should be. A moment passes, and there’s heat from the flesh but no heartbeat.

“PLEASE REMOVE YOUR HAND FROM MY SYSTEM.”

System echoes in Ether’s mind. That is simply what the biomech is. The flesh is used as additional components for the biomech. They don’t keep the memory. Even if they did, and it was blocked by the programming, and he is in some strange comatose state, how the hell is Ether going to shut off a biomech and disable the program?

“That specimen pod going back?” comes the driver’s voice from the front seat of the transport unit. He’s smoking a drag, looking at her through the rear mirror.

“It does,” Ether says. She takes her hand off the biomech in defeat.

Even with no heart, and no mind, Ether is weighed down by guilt. Var’s flesh is still alive and functioning. It’s a part of him. The flesh still feels pain, and it’s a part of Var.

“Load’er up then!” the driver calls out.

Ether feels morally compelled while taking the specimen pod up and into the back of the truck. This awful feeling is the exact one she had while abandoning Var back at the laboratory. There’s a chance she can redeem herself, partly. The powers that be are watching over her at this very moment, judging the foundation of her character. If she leaves, the memory will haunt her just as the hov-box does back in her apartment or how the cuff’s computer reminds her of him. If she shows mercy, she will be redeemed from this ghost.

What’s it going to be? she thinks. She feels far less animalistic fear being Robby Cord compared to bioringing as Lia Catch. The pistol is still tucked into her belt underneath the blue uniform coat, along with the laser-tipped blade. In fact, she feels a level of confidence in her spontaneous plan.

She taps on the specimen screen, disengaging the glass pod’s hovering thrusts, letting it settle on the ground. Ether exits the transport unit and waves at the driver. “I’ll be joining. There’s extra notes I need to elaborate on.”

“Isn’t that in the logs?” The driver asks while closing the back door with a flip of a switch.

“Some things are better left explained.”

“But it is in the logs, right?” He chucks the butt of his drag.

“Yes, don’t worry about it,” Ether says.

“ELABORATE,” comes biomech Var’s voice. “YOU HAVE DUTIES IN THE BAY TO ATTEND TO.”

“Well?” The driver says. “Spit it out. I got to get back for another shipment.”

“ROBBY CORD, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.”

She can’t just leave the biomech to exist. The Society will have won another battle if she does. Yes, life is about survival, and her choice back at the laboratory was quite clear as to where she stands, but she can still show grace. Her hands are sweaty, walking up to the biomech, feeling the veins under her skin pulsate. The DNA shift mixes poorly with the nervousness of what she’s about to do.

“ROBBY CORD.”

Ether stops half a metre away from the ghost and pulls out her pistol with one hand and the laser-blade with the other in one fluent motion. The blade swings upward with the red laser slicing into the vocal box and neck, sending sparks airborne. She pulls the gun’s trigger, igniting the chamber and launching the bullet from the barrel and into the biomech’s forehead. The metal shreds through the skin as a loud BANG bounces off the concrete towers, overpowering the nearby traffic.

Biomech Var seizes up. The eyes roll back as it attempts to raise its pulse cannons. The chambers glow bright and shrink, charging and de-charging in glitched spasms. More sparks fly out of the neck wound and the head as red liquid oozes down between the eyes. The arms go limp as the legs sway side to side, attempting to keep balance. Inside the hole are circuit boards and some flesh. Looks like there was brain matter left in the head after all.

“What the?” shouts the driver as he starts up the truck.

“Out!” Ether shouts, running towards the driver’s door, pistol pointed at the man.

“Okay, okay,” the man says while slowly opening the truck, raising his arms up.

“Out of the way!” Ether shouts, waving the pistol to guide the man clear from the door.

The driver is obedient and steps aside as Ether hops into the vehicle and engages with the controls. Holding the pistol with one hand, she bites onto her blade with the other, using her free hand to grip the polished black leather wheel. Like all hovercrafts, the U-shaped wheel has extra buttons along the central component and on the top of each handlebar.

Her boot presses on the acceleration, and the vehicle engages full throttle. The engines shoot bright blue flame as the vehicle soars from the alleyway. She holsters the gun, sheaths her knife, and takes control of the wheel with both hands as biomech guards storm out of the hangar bay, shrinking from the increasing distance. She swerves into a vertical highway, elevating her to the next level and merging with a horizontal one.

These transport units are without doubt tracked. That driver will report the incident, the biomech powering off will send a warning signal to its superiors, and the gunshot will undoubtedly raise red flags. But she did it; she saved Var, or whatever is left of him. She abandoned him back in the lab, where she should have shot him to save him from the horrific conversion of becoming a biomech. It’s all over now, and she doesn’t have to overthink it.

Ether eventually abandons the truck, parking it in an alleyway and unloads the specimen pod. She unbuttons her blue uniform, throws it over the glass pod and takes Emi Array to the end of the road. She’s out of here!

A pitch-black hovercraft speeds into place, blocking the end of the alleyway. The windows are tinted, preventing any view of the inside. Ether draws her pistol as the door slides open, revealing a large man in a deep blue pinstriped blazer – Blockchain. He holds onto his hat as the wind picks up from the hovering vehicle. To his left and right are neutral humanoid masked men, all in black, with far superior automatic firearms than hers.

“Get in if you want to live, kid!” Blockchain says in his signature gravelly voice.

Ether holsters her gun and hops into the vehicle. Emi Array’s pod follows, and the men close the door as sirens echo throughout the three-dimensional highways. They’re in the clear as the hovercraft accelerates forward.

Ether exhales, wiping the sweat from her face. The wipe pulls off some of the facial hair from her jaw and upper lip. The DNA Shift is starting to wither. She grips a handlebar on the ceiling and asks, “were you just watching me the whole time?” Her voice goes up a pitch, another sign that her DNA is reverting. Apparently her batch of DNA Shifts weren’t perfect.

Blockchain puffs on his chrome cigar while eyeing the woman in the pod. He says, “yeah. I knew you weren’t going to make it out of there on your own.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Right. That’s why you had to make some hotheaded move and shoot a biomech.”

“It was Var. I had to.”

“You did,” Blockchain says while placing a hand on the glass, directly over Emi’s face. “I get it.”

“Who is she?” Ether asks.

“My mother,” Blockchain says.

“Really? She looks so . . .”

“Young? Yeah. That’s what the preservation gas does. It’ll keep a body intact for years.”

“And the Society hasn’t done anything with her?”

“No. She’s been sent from lab to lab, probably because I attempted to hunt for her. She slips out of my grasp every time. You just about blew it too with your little stunt.”

“Well, I didn’t. What’s with her scar?”

“They’ve tried hamming one of those vocal boxes into her, turning her into a cyborg. But I busted the operation and then they got away with her.”

“A biomech?”

“Maybe. Or maybe a hotel clerk. They keep people around for years at times, decades even, and pull them out when their DNA matches with a project they have in mind.”

“So, it really isn’t just organ harvesting and research.”

“Nope, as you saw with your old buddy Var.”

“Apparently.” Ether sighs, looking out the window to the dark underbelly. There are no sirens. No one is chasing them. They’re in the clear.

A burly hand bumps her arm. “Here,” Blockchain says. “Those SCs.”

Ether’s eyes widen, seeing a small disk is in his hand. That’s the glorious payment. Finally, it is hers. Her joy is reassured as she snags the disk from Blockchain’s hand and puts it in her pocket.

“You did good, kid,” Blockchain says.

As if that’s supposed to mean anything to her. The asshole was the one who put her up to this ridiculous mission. She didn’t want any of this! Still, Blockchain is a man of his word, based on their new business agreement. She got paid, the gig is done.

Blockchain was kind enough to keep Ether hidden until her body fully reverted to its original self. The muscle and bone aches were a bitch, just as they were before. She stares at the orange facial hairs on the ground as sweat drips off her skin – goodbye Robby Cord.

The two men with Blockchain give Ether new clothing, and the group splits, letting her return to the whorehouse of an apartment complex where her pad is. She holds those rightfully rewarded social credits tight as she enters her home. Oddly enough, those SCs weren’t as rewarding as she had hoped. No. This mission had a far more rewarding component. It gave her a sense of redemption for liberating biomech Var of his tortured existence.

His hov-box no longer serves as the symbol of her betrayal as she stares at the powered-off device, sipping on whiskey, resting from the DNA shift. In a life of dog-eat-dog, she’s in a temporary place of peace, for her mind has forgiven itself. She knows no gods are judging her. The seed of faith has died. The rabid dog, or biomech Var rather, has been put down. It turns out Ether can show mercy and isn’t just an underbelly scum hunting for the next bioringing gig.

Well, at least for the next few months, until her social credits run out.