The Blades

It was a testament to the technological advancement of mankind that Cremroy could feel the cold stone beneath his arm. The dying grass that seeped through cracks in the earth seemed to open up to catch him as he fell. Perhaps not the most pertinent of thoughts but when you’re minutes from shutdown what you should and should not be thinking about becomes more of a personal preference. His left arm was his latest prosthetic. A marriage of synthetic and organic matter perfectly entwined with what remained of his human nervous system.

This masterpiece contained receptors embedded in the artificial skin coating that were so efficient they could detect the weight of air molecules.

Cremroy had elected to reduce the high functionality of his synth limbs at the first opportunity. He had found the newfound capabilities distracting, opting instead to simulate the sensitivity of the average human. The average him.

It had been less than a year since the pro humanity movement, the ONG (Order through Natural Genetics), had been voted into office. Future historians may say that no one could have predicted the brutality that would follow so soon after, but Cremroy had always known. Born with a rare genetic defect that resulted in severe muscle deterioration he had long stood apart from society. Perhaps it was easier to see from the outside looking in. Cremroy wouldn’t be alive today if not for his embedded synth structure. Not that it mattered to the ONG. It took 3 months for bill 43 to pass through parliament, requiring all hybs to undergo body composition anaylsis. Any of us with a composition of more than 30% synthetic were rounded up and shipped off.

I always was on borrowed time - he thought to himself, smiling. - might as well be now, might as well be here. A miserable life concluding with miserable death.

Through his system protocol iris alert a message sprung up.

Condition critical - multiple punctures to vital organs - do you wish to deactivate pain receptors?

Cremroy ignored the message. Feeling was a luxury to him, and this pain would be his final act of rebellion. The last thing cementing his humanity and they couldn’t take it away from him. He lay his head back, his cheeks gently tickled by the long blades of brown grass and watched the sky.

System shutting down.