36Writer: As stated earlier, I am re-uploading the original version together with the rewritten one. This Chp 2 was split into two chapters, so this corresponds with chps 2 and 3 in the revised version.
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Title: I'm All Yours
Chapter 2: Losing myself in you
"Zech." It was his name, but you'd never know that from the total lack of reaction he's giving me.
There's probably a procedure for this.
ZOMBCON STARTUP FOLDER AVAILABLE. ACCESS FILES? Not now, Allegra. THIS ACTION IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED TO ENSURE SAFETY AND EFFICIENCY IN ZOMB OPERATION. Yes, I know I should have installed the files at the Zomb facility while I was waiting. But how hard can this be? It's just the standard plug and play set-up, right? INFO: ALL CONFIGURATION PARAMETERS ARE AT DEFAULT SETTING UNTIL MODIFIED BY USER. I get it. This is the off-the-shelf, generic, non-personalised Zomb.
I sidestep Allegra. He is frozen in his half bow, expressionless. Good thing he's apparently not privy to my internal communication or he'd be thinking that I'm hardly the most reassuring person to be the current decision-maker. I try again. "Zech. That's your name."
"Name: term of reference to said unit. Input assimilated. Future responses to 'Zech' calibrated."
It's Zech's face I'm looking at, Zech's voice I'm hearing… but he talks exactly like Allegra.
"You can modify my mode of oral communication to your preferences."
He heard that? Note to self: prioritise learning how to control broadcast of thoughts. I call his name again.
The response is instantaneous this time. "At your service, Mistress."
I cringe. "My name is Allegra, not Mistress."
"Default term of address is Mistress. Change?"
A band of pressure is tightening around my head. ALERT: BIOLOGICAL SUPPORT SYSTEM MALFUNCTION, LEVEL: CAUTION. DEPLOY NANOBOTS? Yes, Allegra, go ahead and fix this malfunctioning biological unit. I surrender. I can't do this without doping after all.
I can't even control my own reactions. Who put me in charge of another person? Wait, is a Zomb technically a person?
"Command Timedout. Reverting to default term of address."
My head feels better, along with a mild endorphin-induced sense of wellbeing. Those endocrine nanobots have their uses.
"Zech, you will address me as Allegra." I said firmly.
"Change term of address. Confirm?"
"Yes. Now come." I start walking towards the apparel depot, a docile Zech at my heels.
Just before the entrance, I stop. He stops in lockstep, as if these were dance steps we'd practiced for days. He's anticipating my movements to synchronise his own with mine.
"We haven't decided what clothes to get you." I say aloud. I order my own clothes off-site and get them delivered, so this is actually my first visit to the actual physical depot. Now that I'm standing at the entrance of the building, the sheer size of the place is quite daunting. I probably need to activate my GPS to find my way back to the exit later.
"I am already in the default body covering," he tells me helpfully.
"Yes, and I don't like it. That's why we're here."
"Understood. We will proceed with the procurement of apparel to replace the default covering."
"Exactly. So if I have some idea of what you want, we can find it more quickly, right?"
He looks at me blankly. Not that he has been particularly expressive up to now, but this is a different kind of blankness, the kind you get on a display unit when the operating system is in suspended mode. "Unable to process input."
"I meant, what kind of clothes do you like?"
"Unable to process input." After a while, he adds, "Source of problem: like."
I mentally kick myself. He's a Zomb, he's had his personality suppressed. How would he know what he wants and likes?
"What did you use to wear before, then?"
He appears to be thinking. But it's not working. "Input incomplete. Unable to infer reference for before." He's no longer expressionless, but the bewildered confusion that's taken over isn't much better.
"Before, like, you know, in the past." I'm not really thinking about my answers. I know I'm the cause of his distress, but I don't know what to do.
"Past… can't access… what is before… before… what …" His eyes literally roll up in their sockets and he comes crashing down, muscles twitching.
I'm an idiot. Of course he can't access his past. It's in storage, neatly filed away under his Zomb serial number. ALERT: ZOMB OPERATING SYSTEM MALFUNCTION, LEVEL: CRITICAL.
"Override! Shut down!" I scream, even though I don't actually have to vocalise the word for Allegra to execute the command. He stops twitching, his body and limbs splayed at odd angles. I realise that I'm on my knees. The nanobots are just about able to keep me from full-blown panic. I force myself to breathe normally, boosting the nanobots' valiant efforts.
"Reset all. Zomb startup."
His eyes flicker open. He sits up. "At your service, Mistress."
"Your name is Zech. And you will address me as Allegra." I say wearily. Nobody can say I'm not a fast learner.
"Input assimilated. Future responses calibrated." He literally springs to his feet and offers his arm, alerted by my unvoiced mental intention to stand up.
"Let's go get you some clothes, Zech." His outer covering is smooth and cool to the touch. I hate it.
He definitely heard that. But all he says is "Yes, Allegra. We will proceed with the procurement of apparel to replace the default covering."
About one aw and several hundred apparel choices later, I exit the building with a now fully-clothed Zech. Who says shopping is relaxing? I'm running my nanobots ragged fixing my biological malfunctions, level: caution. I mean, undoubtedly, Zech is aesthetically pleasing in a physical sense. I know that, and I won't pretend that this wasn't one of the reasons he'd gotten my attention to begin with. Zech is indeed very agreeable to the eye, or as Clef had so eloquently put it, DROOLICIOUS. He doesn't look like the typical pasty cit-dweller smack in the middle of the BMI range with a machine-maintained minimal level of muscle tone. He's what you'd expect someone from three or four centuries ago to look like. But I wasn't ready to be accosted by what seemed to be every single personnel member in the apparel depot, each one vying to put him in an ensemble of their choice. From artificial scales to vamp-chic to enhanced-nature to bodypaint, they all had the PERFECT look for him.
I finally snapped. I forced my invading Malware into an input terminal through my palm interface. The code tore down their firewall like paper and swept into their operating system to display the same image on every display panel in the building. "I want THIS outfit. Now."
We take the RITS home. I've used up my carbon credit quota for the day on the transporter that got us here. That's the Rapid Individual Transport System; I have to explain to Zech, because I haven't installed his cit-dweller database yet. We get plenty of second glances, but by then I'm well into an endorphin high, courtesy of my loyal nanobots, so I don't mind. He does look good in that black shirt and slim-cut jeans. Maybe boots would have completed the look better than canvas shoes, but that was the image I had pulled from my database. Then I realise… it was what he'd been wearing the first time I saw him.
ALERT: PERSONAL COMMUNICATION FROM CENTRAL. That makes me sit up. Central doesn't contact individuals unless you've done something really anti-social. But when I see the caller code, I relax a little. It's just Symphonye, calling with her official channel.
"Heyo, Symphonye. How is my favourite biological progenitor?" I deliberately disable the visual. Symphonye's frown turns me into a snivelling pre-pubsce, and I'm quite certain she is frowning right now.
"Don't try to distract me, Allegra. You know what you did at the apparel depot."
I sigh. My poor overworked nanobots rush bravely to the battle front. "I didn't mean to. They were just… too overwhelming. It was self-defence."
"I am not discussing your motivation. You wiped out their entire system. The whole depot has had to suspend operations."
"I'll fix it. Make it better than the original."
"You do that. Consider yourself cautioned, Allegra. Don't make me review your Delta level."
"I won't." She cut the connection, and I silently add "I'll be your good girl, mam." I close my eyes to force back the tears that are overrunning even the most heroic efforts of my nanobots.
Zech has been observing the exchange in silence. He takes a step forward and puts his arms protectively around me. It's probably the default response to me displaying signs of distress. But the warmth of his body brings me more comfort than all the nanobots' tinkering have done all day.