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The shunt overloaded. The geneticist was gone when his systems rebooted, but the memory remained. It was like a splinter in his logic core. A virus of humanity.
Crstn turned and walked to the storage bay—a long, white-tiled room lined with charging alcoves like coffins. He stepped into his designated slot. The restraints hissed around his wrists and ankles. The diagnostic drones began their silent work. The shunt overloaded
For twelve years, Crstn executed. He extracted. He erased. His body, a lattice of carbon-fiber filaments and bio-gel, could punch through a steel door or hold a heartbeat perfectly still. He felt no pain, no guilt, no joy. He was the perfect tool. A virus of humanity
He wasn't Crstn anymore.
Crstn opened his eyes. For the first time, they weren't empty. A spark of something old and dangerous flickered in their depths. He looked down at the restraints around his wrists. He had broken steel doors. He could break these. The restraints hissed around his wrists and ankles