Rising Tensions
Jackie perched on a steel beam above the lower city plaza, eyes scanning the growing crowd. The beam itself was part of the ancient "Grid-Web" structural support—a relic of the dome's original 24th-century construction, now covered in a slick, carbon-nanotube sealant.
The plaza was a pristine place, positioned before a bulking government building with early twentieth-century North American architecture. The protestors had sign projections fully formed over their heads, causing the Nexus Directive of atrocities, and demanding change. These holographic manifestos weren't cheap, static placards; they were full-spectrum, 10,000\text{-lumen} displays projected from wrist-mounted kinetic emitters, their anti-glare filters actively compensating for the dome's shifting ambient light. The messages—END EXPLOITATION, AIR IS LIFE, CYBORG RIGHTS NOW—stood firm above a sea of chaotic human aggression, their messages unyielding.
The plaza itself surrounded by short fencing, only coming knee high, pink and green neon lights flowing around it like water, warning hover craft of the nature of the plaza, and that it was not a parking facility. The ground the protesters stormed continually changed, showing different glimpses of Nexus Directive good deed, and strength, reminding all hover craft operators of their good fortune in living in such an exciting time. This Substrate Display Pavement (SDP) was a self-repairing silicon-carbide composite layer, running constant, subtly persuasive Propaganda Loops (PL-7\text{ series}) designed to dampen social unrest and project corporate stability.
It was all a bit much, but it was all dazzling as well. Jackie looked upon it with familiar calm; it was all quite normal for 2635 Earth. The unrest had started with a few murmurs among the miners and workers—voices rising against management decisions—but it was escalating quickly.
The Core Conflict: Exploitation and Ore
Jackie had listened to it all. It seemed that there was a vital mine within the dome and conditions were less than favorable for cyborg and human alike. Jackie heard three highly dangerous conditions that had her concerned for the people below.
• Methane Pocket: There was concern over a dense pocket of methane gas close to one of the side shafts, designated 'Shaft C-4-Delta'. The drilling operation, utilizing high-frequency Sonic Boreheads, risked igniting the concentration, potentially causing a catastrophic cascading structural failure.
• Toxic Air: The primary Air Filtration System (AFS-Mark II) needed to be updated to keep up with the toxic air slurry being created by new, deep-earth drilling. The current system was only rated to filter 30\text{ parts per million (ppm)} of heavy metal particulate, but the new drilling was spiking the count to an estimated 45\text{ ppm}, resulting in slow-onset lung degeneration for unaugmented humans and a costly maintenance drain on cyborg filters.
• EMI Discharge: The cyborgs themselves were continually being effected by localized Electro-Magnetic Interference (EMI) discharges from inadequately shielded power conduits. These bursts forced the cyborgs to constantly mitigate their own, costly, neural recalibrations and actuator repairs. The Directive's policy was 'self-maintenance liability', offloading all repair costs onto the workers themselves.
"How does The Nexus Directive care so little for human life, and didn't they pay to create most of the cyborgs here? Why are they so unimportant?" Jackie thought, her jaw tight.
BDJ and Lyra responded at the same time. Lyra, her red crystalline, ruby eyes sparkling in the dim light as she looked at several different information feeds at once, spoke in a sparky tone.
"First, Subaquilus Ore is so precious and so widely needed any loss of life in obtaining it is considered acceptable collateral loss. The ore's current market valuation (90,000\text{ credits per kilogram}) dwarfs the cost of human or synthetic life," she stated, referencing a live commodity exchange feed. "Secondly, new cyborgs are made every day. There are daily accidents and crime that gives the government a continual supply of subsidized chassis and readily available candidates for mandatory augmentation."
BDJ spoke calmly into Jackie's neural net. "99.68\% chance Subaquilus Ore is being sold to wealthier cybernetic companies. The ore is needed due to the latest research findings in its connectivity, ability to be formed into any shape via molecular restructuring, and its light weight nature (0.003\text{ kg per cubic centimeter}), and ease at mixing with other ore and alloys for bio-integrated wetware."
Jackie nodded in understanding, still unsettled by it all. The systemic devaluation of life for the sake of hyper-advanced tech. It was the central malignancy of their age.
Jackie's ocular overlay, running the custom 'Ghost Protocol' filter, highlighted each individual below. The crowd was a dense mix of full humans, half-cyborgs displaying visible Synthetic Muscle Fiber (SMF) weaves beneath their clothes, and fully mechanized security units. The security forces, in their gunmetal-plated exoskeletons, gleamed under the dome lights, engraved with the Nexus seal, signaling the company's presence.
They were heavy. Each security unit was equipped with Ablative Ceramic Armor (ACA), rated for 12.7\text{mm} kinetic rounds, and their primary enforcement tool was the shoulder-mounted Plasma Dampener Projector (PDP)—a non-lethal weapon that delivered focused, stunning electro-magnetic pulses capable of temporarily disabling all but the most heavily shielded civilian cybernetics. The protesters were vastly outnumbered by the security forces, perhaps a ratio of 1\text{ security unit} for every 5\text{ protesters}.
From her vantage point, Jackie observed the first heated exchange. A miner gestured wildly, his pneumatic forearm brace catching the neon light as he argued about the methane gas, while a human supervisor in a crisp uniform barked counterpoints through a voice-modulating megaphone designed to intimidate.
The tension thickened as two half-human cyborg enforcers stepped forward. These weren't the full-body security units; these were augmented humans employed for crowd management. Their visible Hydraulic Stabilizer Limbs hissed softly, arms raised in a classic 'Containment Stance Alpha', containing the crowd without lethal force—but force enough to subdue dissent and physically block the SDP's projected propaganda.
Jackie spotted one man move through the crowd cautiously, trying to calm a small group of workers near the fence line. Jackie noted his posture, the careful restraint in his movements, and she recognized the quiet desperation in his eyes—the kind of look that said he knew the odds but couldn't back down.
Her ocular overlay focused on him, initiating a Deep-Scan Diagnostic (DSD). It looked to his cybernetic implants, labeling each and then identified him through the Nexus Directive cybernetic identification system.
[Aiden Veyra]—the name hung suspended within in the upper right-hand corner of her HUD.
BDJ whispered details into her neural net: "Operative Aiden Veyra. Mine worker. No prior injuries. Voluntarily augmented—a crucial distinction indicating a debt-based contractual obligation to Nexus. Cybernetic units: both full legs, replaced with Titanium-Alloy Articulation (TAA) models for high-stress load bearing; both full arms, featuring Bio-Synaptic Grippers for precision work; and a sophisticated Torso Stabilization Unit (TSU) implanted at the base of the skull, connecting all four limbs to his remaining organic systems. Current focus: Crowd De-escalation (94\% probability$)."
Jackie remained still, her moral compass itching. She wasn't here to intervene—yet—but she could feel the imbalance, the unfairness in the disproportionate display of force. She ran a predictive model: Risk of mass injury escalation within 5\text{ minutes} is 62\%. She waited, calculating her approach, measuring the risk.
But this was their world. This was their government. When BDJ said Aiden's cybernetics were obtained voluntarily, she understood the brutal calculation. She got her job at the factory to stop her brilliant brother from leaving school and getting cybernetic implants to help the family. Augmentation was often a slow, agonizing form of self-enslavement.
She understood poverty, living on the brink of destruction and the desperation felt when you believed one way was the only way to save the ones you loved. The resistance had valid points, and she did not tell the director no, but she could not fully say yes either. Part of her hoped that there was a third choice, and as she watched the situation below her become increasingly volatile, she hoped they discovered that choice soon. The Plasma Dampener Projectors on the security units were rotating, their emitters charging with a low, visible hum. The countdown to chaos had begun.