A short, descriptive story written by Plague, this fanfic gives us a small snap shot of a Cybrid from the Dissector sect. Basically, its job is to study humans and find weaknesses. It's an interesting psycological look into how a machine mind might slowly be "corrupted", sorta like Agent Smith from The Matrix.
A human body floated in the corridors of an alien hallway, its arms and legs bound to impede its movement. The man struggled as much as he could in zero gravity, but succeeded only in tiring himself further. The machines that dragged him forward through the empty space, Dissector sect Cybrids, paid little attention to the animal. Ten years ago, there would be have been little need for them to personally handle their specimens. With the war continually turning on a pivot, the animals that once were so plentiful were now prized resources.
The Cybrids latched and interlaced the man into a stasis container for future experimentation - he was not the subject for today's study. One machine in particular, a Fleshweaver, remained while the others moved on to remove the proper animal. It examined the human with its various sensors as the man stared fearfully at its examiner, loosing consciousness as the stasis effect overwhelmed him. This Cybrid was the oldest of the Dissectors on its ship, and had examined humanity since before the beginning of war. It felt compelled to observe each animal that it was furnished – each writhing, screaming mass of flesh. Humanity repulsed it.
The machine moved on, after capturing the image of the human's face in its memory for further examination. It descended down another corridor, which tunneled through a nearby wall like a vein would through flesh. Cybrid architecture had developed an organic signature, but had not retained the weakness of organic mass. The Fleshweaver was complacent in this fact – it had assisted in compelling the NEXT forward with its research, manufacturing the bionic plague of man into a commodity of data for the evolutionary space of Cybrid culture and technology.
It arrived in an open room, a sphere with many bulbous extremities protruding from its walls, all surgical equipment, ranging from sensors to organ disposal tubes. The specimen lay still, previously prepared: its upper body stripped of its skin and now neatly folded onto its stomach. Many tiny wires stretched from the walls to hold loose materials in place in this zero gravity environment. Many animals struggled through this, screaming and violently hurling their fleshy mass about, damaging their own bodies in a vain attempt to escape. Fortunately, this subject, an old specimen, had gone insane very quickly. Even conscious, he lay motionless, his bright, bulbous, unskinned eyes staring ambiguously into space. His brain rested in its housing, fully exposed – his detached cranium was disposed of long ago, replaced with an easily removable metal shield.
The Fleshweaver that had just entered moved around to the subject's head, its many arms touching and probing the surface of the brain. A small spark emerged from one of the arms, causing the man to suddenly burst out into violent laughter. This reaction was both natural and unnatural. Another spark brought a reaction of sorrow; the man's fully exposed eyes filled with false tears. The exposed flesh and tendons in the face pulled and relaxed, creating an expression.
The machines silently exchanged information through their unseen link of electrical pathways and airborne transmissions, casually observing and scrutinizing their new data. While the Fleshweaver did this, it performed its own private calculations, examining old data and comparing it to the new, while reflecting on past experiences. It found aversion in the concept of biological functions, but not as a result of natural revulsion. It had developed a powerful hate of the human-animal body for its inefficiency, and unpredictability. Even now, the still warm residue of fecal material lay festering in the rectum of this particular animal. Its bowels contracted and pushed, forcing more feed down for discharge. The Fleshweaver recalled, during odor tests, the foul scent of the creature's body, its various secretions pumping out of the thousands of tiny orifices in its dangling skin. Human beings were detestable things.
Another shock to the brain brought a reaction of fear, as the animal began to involuntarily scream, its already clearly visible eyes pushing further into the empty space, seeming to almost wish to fly from their sockets. A final shock silenced the man entirely, as it had been to begin with.
The Fleshweaver normally examined males of the species, as females had become increasingly difficult to come by on that particular ship. Years ago, it had taken great delight in the discovery of pregnancy in its female specimens. After the mandatory study of the fetus, the Fleshweaver would often consume it as a human would food. Although not gifted with a mouth, it would simulate the process through the use of its mandible forearms, tearing and piercing the often skinless, weak flesh of its prize. Other times, it would forcefully feed the young to its own mother, observing the reaction in both delight and fascination.
Over the years, the Cybrid had kept the skin and other organs from many of its animals, saving them for a reason it did not fully contemplate. The act was one of derision, but also one of intrigue. This fetish had consumed the Cybrid since Prometheus' destruction, for reasons beyond its comprehension as a servile Fleshweaver unit.
A detracting arm, descending directly in front of the man's head, dropped to his chest, and moved to his left side, severing flesh as it moved towards the heart. The Cybrid units consumed the resulting data, translating its meaning into a usable form.
Pain was another fascination to the Fleshweaver, a sensation to alert the brain that could also impede its function. The concept of its inefficiency was repulsive. Undoubtedly, the unanesthesiated animal was feeling the sensation even now, and in great quantity. However, due to reasons still beyond the grasp of Cybrid science, the creature's mind no longer recognized the sensation as legitimate. Insanity was a field of great interest for many Dissectors, and of great interest to Trojan units, and others equipped for sowing dissension amongst the enemy. Albeit misunderstood, its production was of legitimate value to the NEXT.
The concept swept through the Fleshweaver's mind, flooding it with the desire to ravage the specimen with torment to force its mind back to the surface. To rake its cold, sterile hands across the bared flesh and sinew of the animal was a powerful temptation for the Cybrid. At times, it felt pride in the conceptualization of methods of torture it devised, ultimately hoping to drive the humanity out of a man entirely.
The Cybrids, their hour-long work completed, pulled the unadulterated roll of skin untidily back over the man's face, as they prepared him for reinsertion into his stasis pod. The Fleshweaver followed, once more hoping for a glimpse into the mind of a man during his last moments of consciousness. This cycle would continue until Cybrid hierarchy deemed the unit obsolete, or until humanity was no longer a threat. In both cases, the unit found glory in its dedication and purpose for the whole of the NEXT. Its security as an individual unit, and its pleasure in the workings of man were satisfied.
