Chasing after Kiwi wasn't high on my list of priorities. Whatever trouble she found herself in, I wasn't eager to get involved. As I emerged from the grime and oil of the workshop, I finally took a moment to breathe and assess my surroundings. Kiwi was nowhere to be seen, likely off to meet with Mike. While she might have work waiting for her, our training sessions still loomed ahead. Currently, I was diving into the fifth level of data, aiming to reach intern status. Unfortunately, my study time had been scarce lately. Rach had been relentless, bombarding me with a deluge of diverse information. Keeping up with the relentless pace had consumed most of my free time over the past few months. The reason? The impending assault on the Militech base, scheduled to happen any day now.
The Leviathan project was nearing completion, but our main focus was seizing control of the next-generation nanofactory under the watchful eye of the new AI. That piece of tech was a game-changer, and having it in our hands would give us a serious advantage. It would also greatly enhance my "Iron Man" project. Despite significant upgrades to my nomad since its inception, it still fell short. Its current capabilities weren't sufficient to face multiple Gemini fourth-generation models simultaneously. The issue lay in my lack of offensive capabilities. What good was defense without the means to strike back?
Corporate operatives were heavily armed, boasting 400-500 units of armor, an impressive feat. Many had undergone biomodifications, elevating their combat prowess to a dangerous level. Standard-issue automatic rifles might suffice against regular foes, but elite security fighters required something more potent. Powerful shotguns with heavy recoil could be an option, favored by cyborgs or humans with implants employing a "tank" build. Effective up close, they became less so at medium range and beyond.
Then there were sandevistans, capable of dodging bullets with ease. While they didn't utilize this ability often, the mere fact that they could do so raised concerns for our upcoming operation. I hadn't worked with sandies before, but I was eager to get my hands on a working prototype to study the technology. I had a crude analog of this tech, but it was far slower compared to sandevistans. It was based on the "Kerenzikov" implant, which boosted nerve endings' response, akin to a massive adrenaline rush with a perception-slowing effect. Though I had the cheapest and oldest model, it significantly advanced the concept of this technology.
As I studied the "Kerenzikov," I encountered a peculiar problem: understanding its operation. Essentially, Kerenzikov was a small biocomputer that integrated into the human brain via the spine. During operation, it injected synthesized substances, enhancing natural reactions and body control. The degree of acceleration depended on the implant model and the user's peak reaction time. According to Roosevelt, Kerenzikov was less taxing on the body than Sandevistan, making it a preferred choice for many.
My usage of the implant differed significantly from the standard application. My body was far more advanced than an ordinary person's, and in times of need, it could independently induce an effect similar to time dilation. When used concurrently with a cyberdeck, this effect only amplified, but I couldn't sustain it for long. My current maximum was ten minutes, after which I was forcibly ejected from acceleration. The consequences of such strain were unpleasant: bleeding, nausea, vestibular system malfunctions, and many other minor nuances. It took me about two to three hours to fully recover from such an ordeal, which was unacceptable in the context of an imminent battle.
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I decided to head to the workshop. On the way back, the streets remained devoid of people. The heat was unbearable, so many sought refuge from it in their usual ways, sitting in tents or cars with air conditioning. Heat wasn't as noticeable for my body, and I could feel quite comfortable; the same applied to low temperatures, although determining my tolerance to cold was impossible. At night, the temperature dropped to as low as -5 degrees Celsius during the coldest periods. Global climate changes had occurred on the planet, resulting in the flooding of Haiti about three years ago. I had even heard about a Haitian named Philippe Oreste, who braved storms, winds, and tropical downpours to swim to Haiti and help about a hundred and fifty people escape flooding on inflatable rafts. The further story of this brave man was unknown to me, but his act deserved respect, especially in such an unethical post-capitalist world where people literally killed each other for a place in the sun.
"Little brother Alex!" A small projectile flew into me, none other than my beloved younger sister Rachel. The girl had grown up over these two years, allowing Susan to spend more time on herself. Nevertheless, there were plenty of nannies at the camp, and children were highly valued here.
"Well, well, missed me?" I cheerfully caught the squealing little girl, immediately hoisting her onto my shoulders.
"Mhm." Childish hands reached forward insistently, hinting for me to hold them in mine.
"Where's your mom?" I glanced around in search of a specific brunette.
"Mom's with little sister." The girl stated importantly, pointing her finger towards our tent.
"Shall we go to them or to my place?"
"To big brother!" The little one nodded, lightly bumping her chin against my head.
Smirking, I quickened my pace toward the tent, drawing the attention of other clan members as I passed by. Rachel and I shared a strong bond. The dark-haired little beauty, like many children her age, was endlessly curious. She was a true explorer, always poking her nose into every nook and cranny, searching for something interesting. Sometimes her curiosity led to amusing situations, while other times it led to mishaps. Once, Rachel managed to ruin several old teaching chips I had carelessly left on the bedside table by accidentally submerging them in water. Since then, we made sure to keep all our belongings out of reach of curious little hands.
As we entered the workshop, Rachel immediately begged to be put down. With an amused roll of my eyes, I complied, observing her as she wandered about. She made a beeline for the half-assembled exosuit, inspecting the various parts scattered around.
"Big brother, what's this?" she asked, pointing to the shield emitter bracelet lying nearby, which I planned to integrate into the left forearm of the suit.
"It's easier to show than to explain," I replied, picking up the bracelet and securely installing it on the forearm. After soldering the edges for added reliability, I activated the shield. "Now watch closely." Grabbing a handful of small stones, I tossed them toward the bluish hemisphere. As they approached, they bounced off and landed nearby.
"Like that," I said, smiling at Rachel, who was enraptured by the display.
"Cool! Big brother is cool!" she exclaimed, gingerly poking at the still-functioning shield, which felt like slightly rough glass and certainly packed a punch if needed.
"I thought I'd find you here," Susan's voice interrupted, signaling her arrival in the workshop as she searched for her wandering daughter.
"Mom!" Rachel dashed over to her mother, leaping into her waiting arms.
"Sue, do you know what happened to Kiwi today? She's been acting strange," I inquired, recalling the blonde's uncharacteristic behavior earlier.
"Scaredy-cat," Susan scoffed, rolling her eyes and glancing over her shoulder. "Rachel, sweetheart, could you go to your sister in my tent?"
"Okay, Mom," Rachel quickly agreed, hopping off the ground and darting in the indicated direction, waving goodbye to me.
"So?" I plopped down on a nearby crate, crossing my arms and fixing my gaze on the woman who was shamelessly grinning.
"You still haven't figured it out?" Mitchell tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"If I had it all figured out, I wouldn't be asking dumb questions," I retorted, not amused by her smug demeanor. "Just spill it."
"Tell me, what does Kiwi mean to you? Honestly, without the sarcasm," she pressed.
"She's like a little sister to me, and I care about her deeply. I don't know what's going on with her, but if she's in trouble, I'm there for her," I responded without hesitation.
"Then answer me this: what would you do if you found out she's head over heels for a guy?" Susan raised an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.
"I won't pry into who she's fallen for, but if it's me, I'm fine with it. Kiwi's grown up enough to decide who she wants to be with," I shrugged, mentally trying to piece together who might have caught the blonde's eye.
"It's a tricky situation," Susan sighed, frustration evident as she rested her head in her hands. "Alex, I thought you were smarter than this," she chided, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.
"If you keep speaking in code, I'm not going to get it," I replied, irritation creeping into my voice. Susan seemed to realize this, her laughter subsiding as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes.
"Um," she took a deep breath, then blurted out, "she's in love with you but doesn't know how to say it."
"Well, that's a revelation... Wait, what?" My mind raced as the pieces fell into place.