Warden

to her. “I’m not detecting any of the facial microtics associated with lying. Then again, she is a cyborg. It’s possible she’s disconnected the circuity involved with microtic activation in order to hide the lie from her features. The ultimate poker face, as it were.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” she said. “I don’t know who I am. Please.” She rolled her head to the side, feeling even more incredibly helpless than she was already. If these scavengers or salvagers or whatever they were didn’t assist her, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She had no memories. No arms and legs…
A tear trickled down her cheek.
“I believe you.” Will slid a gloved finger onto her cheek and wiped away the tear. Then he moved his hand underneath her chin and lifted her head so that she gazed into his eyes. He smiled. “Chin up, little one. Not knowing who you are isn’t the end of the world. In fact, it’s only the beginning. You have a clean slate. You can start all over again, something that more than a few people would wish for, I think.”
“What about the mark?” Horatio nodded at her forehead.
Will shrugged. “We’ll sand it off.” He glanced at her. “Now then, where was I? Oh yeah. So, I’ve saved your life for the time being, but there’s still the small matter of your missing abdominal cavity. Your lung substitutes are providing your brain with oxygen, but you still need nutrients for your brain: you can’t really function properly without a working digestive system. And of course, arms and legs. But before we proceed further, I’d like you to sign a little something.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Just a little contract,” he explained. “A work agreement.”
A textual overlay appeared on her HUD.
Will (213662) would like to share Work Contract with you. Do you accept? (Y/N)
“What’s this?” she said.
“As I mentioned, you’re going to have to work for us if you want your body completely repaired,” Will said. “I already stabilized your existing subsystems for free to save your life—that’s on the house. But I can’t give you an entire body at no cost. I just can’t justify it. You’re going to have to be my employee for a little bit to make it worth my while.”
“For a little bit,” she said. “Why do I get the feeling you mean forever?”
“You’re going to pay an arm and a leg for your arms and legs!” Horatio quipped.
“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you, don’t try to joke,” Will told the robot. He returned his attention to her. “This isn’t a debt bondage sort of deal. Paying for your new body is only going to cost you a couple months of your life. At most.”
“That’s still a lot,” she said.
Will shook his head. “Not in the overall scheme of things. Especially not for someone with a full body replacement such as yourself. You take care of yourself, you’ll live for a thousand years. Two months is nothing. Besides, the parts I plan to give you don’t come cheap. I could make two hundred creds selling them at the closest settlement. So, consider it a loan, and you’re going to work for us until you’ve paid it off. And just so you know, there won’t be any interest. Like I said, this isn’t debt bondage. The contract stipulates you’re free to go after you’ve earned us the two hundred. And I tell you what, when you’re done, if you like this sort of work, and we like you in turn, you can stay on: we’ll arrange some sort of revenue splitting.”
She accepted the share request and her HUD reported that the content passed all internal virus scans, so she opened the digital contract up and read it over. It promised that she would receive a full abdominal cavity, with a working digestive subsystem, along with two fully functional arms and two legs. The terms actually seemed reasonable and guaranteed she would be released from the contract after earning Hoplite Industries—Will’s company—two hundred credits. There was no mention of time frame: as far as she could tell, it didn’t matter if she earned the two hundred in three days, or three months.
She focused on the digital signature section at the end and a bunch of digits appeared. She glanced at Will. “I signed it 845146.”
“Your internal ID,” Horatio commented.
She pursed her lips. “Maybe at some point I can use that ID to find out who I was.”
Will shook his head. “We’re the ones who assigned the number. Your existing ID was erased in the mind wipe.”
She sighed. “It was a nice thought.”
“You’re more than your past anyway,” Will said. “You’ll make new memories. Better ones.”
“She’ll need a name,” Horatio suggested to Will. “Unless we want to call her 845146 going forward?”
“A bit unwieldy, isn’t it?” Will turned toward her, causing his dreadlocks to sway. “What would you like to be called?”
She gazed into his suddenly gentle eyes, which crinkled at the sides with his grin.
“I don’t know really know,” she told him. “You come up with one.”
He paused. “Rhea.”
“Rhea.” She nodded slowly. “I like it. It will do, until I remember my own.”
Will’s smile seemed to sadden then, as if he didn’t truly believe Rhea would ever remember.
I will. I must.
“I look forward to having you work for us, Rhea,” Will said. “Now then, we’re going to have to shut you down again in order to attach the rest of your body. Sweet dreams.”
“Be gentle,” she said.
He grinned. “You won’t feel a thing.” He glanced at the drone. “Gizmo?”
A telescoping limb extended from underneath the hovering sphere as the drone positioned itself next to her face.
“Rhea, turn your head to the side, please,” Will instructed.
Rhea did so, and then felt a gentle brush against the nape of her head as the drone inserted its limb into whatever access point existed at the base of her neck.
She had only just started to wonder what the drone was doing back