Friday, March 9, 2012

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

His new roommate was a cyborg. Well, actually, he was supposed to say 'bionically enhanced' but why bother saying that in the privacy of his own mind when he could just say 'cyborg'?

Right now he was on his way to the briefing to find out why the cyborg was to be his new roommate. He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew, and didn't like it, but as usual, he didn't let that show.

It was a small, short briefing. It wasn't that high in security clearance, and it doesn't take very many people to tell one pilot his new orders. Essentially, the Mars Air and Space Force were taking on bionically enhanced pilots so to have faster, and more efficient operations. Since Havok was the best standard human pilot - “non-cyborg” he said to himself – he would train this new pilot, who would in turn, assist in training the rest of these new age pilots. Havok thought it was ironic he was instrumental in making his own job obsolete.

Fifteen minutes later, he was headed back down to his quarters, to make room for this cyborg.


He didn't actually meet him until after the evening mess. He didn't expect a nervous young man, barely old enough to shave his face. And it did look shaved – raw, as if the young man had little practice with the activity. Havok had given him the once over and asked if he had eaten. The young man – Eddie – nodded affirmative and Havok showed him to his – their – quarters.

He had had a mental image of cyborgs – cynical, half metal faces, no emotions, no end of physical strength. But Eddie – Eddie was not like that at all. His face was young. If Havok had been passing him in the street, he wouldn't have noticed the faint silvery dots along the left side of his face, arching down from above his eyebrow to just above his left ear. He almost jolted with shock when, in some down time, Eddie plugged an infeed cord from his computer not to an outfeed port in the wall, but to himself – just behind his left ear. He almost restrained Eddie from casually sticking two of his fingers into the pronged data slots of the flight console – but saw at the last moment that his fingers were designed for the connection; tipped in the same silvery metal, fitting into the outlets without so much of a shudder, the wiring, running up his arm, pulsing with a faint blue color, just visible under his skin. Yet for all this amazing abilities, Eddie seemed self conscious.


Havok felt a little unnerved about Eddie. At first, the cyborg was clumsy around the shuttle. When Eddie felt Havok looking at him askance, he explained that the numeric part of his brain was still adjusting to the new data of the Olympian MASF Base, and the shuttle was yet another equation to work out. When Eddie slid the cable connection into the small USB port just behind his ear, Havok felt a shiver of jealousy. He'd always been connected to his ships – knowing what every creak, flicker and jolt meant, knew every limit and the finesse required for each control. But to be actually part of the flow of information, not just through his fingers, but direct to the mind, quick as thinking . . . Havok suppressed a small sigh and fixed his attention on the dusty red view outside. Jealous? Yes, he was jealous. Supremely jealous.


Havok treated Eddie like any other young pilot, first teaching him to take care of the gear and equipment of the shuttle, then using the flight simulator before actually flying the shuttle. He also wouldn't let Eddie use his enhancements at first. This raised a minor struggle, first with Eddie, then a slightly bigger one with Havok's superiors. He used the same argument on both of them:

If Eddie didn't know how to fly the shuttle by the seat of his pants, he wouldn't make a good pilot, bionically enhanced or not. Knowing the rudiments of flight before getting to delicate technology would build foundations nobody would regret having. There was time enough to get to the gizmos. Eddie subsided faster than the superiors did, but Havok kept teaching how he wanted to, regardless of his superior's objections.

Eddie was a good pilot, a pilot after Havok's own heart. He loved the machinery, he loved the lift of a quick take off, and the beauty of space.

As they flew, teacher and student, they became friends. At first it was unnoticable – Eddie glancing sideways at Havok; Havok taking delight in a certain curve as Eddie brought the shuttle around. But it became more pronounced. One day, Eddie said, as they were cruising along,

“I always thought that us cyborgs would be superior to people without bionical enhancements. I thought you'd hate me, or despise me. But you haven't. And you are an amazing pilot. To me, it's as if you were already connected to the computer. You're better than I could ever be, because you do it without enhancements. How do you know what to do?”

Havok didn't know how to respond to that, but he didn't need to. Eddie kept talking.

“I don't know what it's like to be with out these.” he gestured to the silvery implants on his forehead. “I've had them since I was a baby, taught how to use them.” He stopped talking and glanced at Havok. “You don't hate me do you?”

Careful. Havok thought If you start liking him, it'll be all that more painful when he steals your livelihood. But it was too late, he knew. He already did like this cyborg. He was a friend, one that he could trust. He said out loud,

“No, Eddie. I don't hate you.” He took a breath and gave Eddie a list of maneuvers, to be carried out in the next two minutes.


They didn't just fly shuttles; they learned how to fly many others, smaller and larger crafts: cruisers, commercial shuttles, trading scows, space barges, two person hoppers and helis. Each, Eddie learned how to fly by the controls, manuals, and the feel of the ship and space around him. He never plugged himself into the consoles; he almost forgot that that was a part of him sometimes. At the back of his mind, he awaited that cue, that moment when Havok gave him the go ahead to connect to the on board computer. Havok waited and watched, looking for the moment when Eddie could only use his enhancements as a supplement to his knowledge of piloting.


And the day came when Eddie could connect himself to the space craft. He reverently picked up the cable and brought it up to the tiny port behind his ear and plugged it in. His eyelids fluttered at the sudden intake of information. He glanced at Havok, then tenderly pushed his fingers into the sockets in the console. His eyes closed as he perceived the ship in a different way. Havok sat, consumed with jealousy and pain. He wished – he wished he'd never lived to see this day. He wished – no, he wished he could be that young man, one with the shuttle in a way he could never be.

Eddie opened his eyes and saw the living pain in Havok's eyes. He glanced down – away, wishing he could share the staggering experience with his faithful teacher. He brought up his eyes slowly. They stared at each other, speechlessly.

Finally, Havok said slowly,

“It's time.”

Eddie gave him a puzzled look.

“It's time for you to fly her solo.”

Eddie, nodded and took a deep breath, and brought his other hand, with their own silver tipped fingers, to the stick. He glanced at Havok and eased the stick back.


Observers saw the shuttle lift freely, without wobble, tilt, with hardly any dust disturbed. They gaped at its graceful arc over their heads before it spun off into space. How could they know it was governed by a man who could think numbers, who could command without a word? Their world was changing, and only two people knew the exact implications of it.

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