Attention: Estimated time to rearm: twenty-five milliseconds, his AI informed him.
"Thanks robot," Andy said.
The chamber door locked shut with a low pop, like snuffed gunfire. A conductive mist hissed through vents, clinging to his skin. Andy stared longingly at his revolver. He didn't like leaving Julie on her own.
Warning: Access to firearm is currently impossible until the recalibration process is complete.
"Yeah, thanks robot."
Andy grew lightheaded. The mist tasted mineral—like crisp mountain water. He breathed it in, quenching a thirst he hadn't realized he'd had. A tingling sensation started in the base of his neck, then spread throughout his body. He swayed, as it throbbed and expanded with each breath. He closed his eyes and was submerged in static. It soaked into every inch of his body, every fraction of his cells, every strand of his DNA. Thrumming entombed his skull, blotting out all other senses until all that was present, was being.
Images flashed before his eyes. Sensations possessed his limbs. "Andy. Aren't you impressed?" The voice called him. Whose was it? His sister's? A face accompanied the voice. A young girl with bright eyes. She was grinning and bragging about something, clutching a metal tube with pistons and triggers running up its length. A clarinet. Andy smiled and patted her on the head. They were both children. What was that about the end of the world? It hadn't come yet.
The scene in his mind became flooded with static and a new one emerged.
Andy sat in the back seat of the family car. His dad was driving erratically, voice pitched to a panic. His mum gawked at her phone, reading off the headlines. Her eyes were wide with terror.
They hit something in the road and his sister screamed. Andy grabbed Clara's hand and squeezed softly. For once, he was the only one smiling. "It's alright. It's okay. You're safe with me."
Like a thunderclap, his world was transformed. Andy was burning with rage. A gaping hole tore through his stomach, ripping him to pieces, severing limbs. Suddenly, Andy was chasing a demon through a complex of blank concrete walls. Death was inevitable. Andy collided with the beast and tore it apart. The demon incarnated the body of a man. Andy ripped it open, seeking to replace the gaping hole in his own carapace with the black organs of the demon. He plummeted into its gut, up through its ribcage, and pulled out a black heart, stuffing it inside his own exposed innards, gorging himself to fill the void. Behind him, the lights went out. Memories fell into abyss. Andy fell through the air to his death, tossed by razor winds, directionless and burning with hatred. Kill. An intolerable pain was suffocated by violence. Andy lashed out for the demon, but it was gone, already dead, many years ago now. Andy screamed and clawed at his face to break free. Slowly, like the rising of the moon, the storm settled.
When consciousness returned to him, Andy realized that he was lying by a country roadside overlooking a derelict town that smoldered in the morning sunlight. Smoke plumed wreckage, carried on the cold wind. Andy checked the litter of bottles about him, swigging the dregs, welcoming the humming static that enveloped his mind.
A building collapsed behind him. Andy looked up and realized that he was suddenly on a city's streets. A stampede rushed past him as people crumbled beneath blinking streetlamps. Then he spotted something that stopped his heart. Clara's face shone amongst the crowd, her blonde hair like a beacon of compassion in an otherwise numbing world. She stumbled and fell beneath the crush of bodies. Andy darted towards her with a single-minded need. He dove on top of her like a shell as the stampede cascaded over him. He dragged his little sister beneath him as an animal does its cub, crawling into the cover of a car. There, in the shadows, he smiled. They used to play like this as kids. He'd wear the wash basket on his back like it was a tortoise shell. Clara would ride on top and point him about the house—he was her valiant steed. She looked up at him with bright, terrified eyes.
"It's alright," Andy said. "You're safe with me."
The chaos around him blended together, like colors on a palette, until only a grey paste remained. Boiling emotions evaporated and settled on calm waters, but still, a potent panic clung to the back of his mind, as though he had forgotten something very important, and now his and Clara's lives were in danger.
"Thanks for the slideshow," Andy said into the paper-mulch expanse of his mind.
Greeting: Andy. Ready to proceed? The AI voice asked. It was directionless in the vast empty space.
"You gotta do that nightmare sequence every time?"
Error: Query comprehension failure. Rephrase and resubmit.
"Whatever," Andy said. "Let's get on with it."
Identify: Augmentation class: Gunslinger. Delineations: Marksman, Hitman—
"Wait, wait," Andy said. "Hold on. Can you do that human thingy you used to try on all the time? I can't listen to any more of that robot voice. It's so annoying."
The AI paused while it reconfigured its settings. Is this vernacular more to your liking, Andy?
"Cool it with the vernacular and you've got a deal. But just for now," he asserted. "Once we're back in the real world, I want you back to the robot voice, alright?"
Perhaps if my communication operations were generally more conversational, you would be more receptive to my alerts and advice.
"Precisely," Andy said. "Keep it more bleep-bloop, less chitter-chatter."
Affirmative.
"That's the spirit!"
Proceeding… Your Augmentation is a first-wave archetype: Gunslinger. You possess two delineations within this archetype: Marksman and Hitman. Each delineation is associated with unique abilities.
Two orbs of light appeared in the blank sky like planets, one a hazy red and the other a steely blue. Inside each, complex geometry swirled and reconfigured itself.