3rd Last Post.

3rd Last post!

for these three last posts, i'll be posting three science fiction stories that i wrote under the stressful period of the o levels last year. then tata! until next march :D

P.S i got two comissions on my hands! yay!

WARMACHINE NCO-01

It was the year 2068. The world was war-torn and battered. Millions of people starved all over the world every single day. Governments spent all their money on their armies, which had to fight for possession of whatever fuel there was left on the earth. Fuel had been running out in the past 10 years and the expensive solar power could only be enjoyed by the rich and the aristocracy, whereas most peasants just picked off scraps of food off the ground to survive…ample food supplies and electricity was a luxurious dream to them.

However, there was a group of the most feared mercenaries who had no need of food and drink. All they needed was a little bit a sun a day and they would be energized. Who exactly were these disunited people? They were known to many as the Warmachines. They were actually cyborgs, half-man half-machine beings that were equipped with solar-energy tapping systems and deadly weaponry. It was not easy to be part of them though. Most of these Warmachines were orphaned and had lost limbs in the war, gaining illegal cybernetic limbs along the path to survival.

One of them was known only by his designation, which was NCO-01, and nobody knew how he had gotten that name. He was well known for his cruel and blitzkrieg techniques. Somehow, nobody alive had seen him before, for he never revealed himself unnecessarily. Well, if you did see him, you were probably one of those bad guys, and you would have become a mass of smoking, mutilated flesh in an instant.

Actually this young man of only nineteen years of age was named Isaiah, named after the holy prophet in the bible, which belonged to a long-dead religion that only fanatics like his parents believed in. His face was kindly and innocenscious, but behind that mask was a mind that only thought of killing people. Who were they? They were those people who took away his parents, stripped his village bare and mutilated his body and limbs. Yes, those bloody bastards will pay, he thought while he lay bleeding to certain death at the scene of the his village’s massacre. Fortunately a mercenary found him in his battered state and replaced most of his body with expensive parts. Of course, the money paid was a result of much looting. They had a common goal, so he personally trained Isaiah for the task of taking revenge, and equipped him with the best weapons. What was the first thing Isaiah did to repay his master’s kindness when he was leaving him?

“Hey Master?”

“Yeah what Isaiah?”

“Yeah thanks for all the teachings and skills you have imparted to me. Here’s a little reward for you.”

Blam.

So the first thing he did was to kill him, yes, kill him, for Isaiah trusted no one on this ruthless planet; that was what his master taught him anyway. A shot through the head was all that it took. The poor fool, he thought, never expecting his own downfall. He sold his master’s body parts for a meager sum of cash, improved some of his own parts with that cash and went on his own.

NCO-01 soon became a name to be feared by all evildoers.

Unfortunately for Isaiah, better known as NCO-01, all good things must come to an end. The Cheka, who were the secret police of the entirely corrupted government, had long sought to destroy this obstructive menace and bring peace. To themselves, of course, not the peasants. He was very much a celebrity among the commoners, like a modern Robin Hood.

He was planning another massacre in his hideout in the desert when he saw from a distance a family consuming voraciously a small pig that they had painstakingly hunted down. He witnessed this for a moment, trying to remember what it was like to eat, but he couldn’t. Suddenly he remembered that he was human after all. He suddenly broke down and cried like he never did during his miserable life; he had forgotten what life was like to an ordinary human. His memory and head was the only striking evidence of his human nature. Now he was not remembered by society as a human; he was remembered as a monster. He remembered his parent’s words before they were taken; “They are the monsters. Don’t ever become like them. Promise us.”

He had become a monster. He looked down at his worn out metallic body parts and thought about his short life as a real human. He had long forgotten what it was like to eat, drink, have sex or shit. “Oh my god, what have I been doing all these years?” Sadly, he had sacrificed so much of his humanity for the meaningless war that would end sooner or later.

Sadly he let down his guard while he thought of all this. So it was that the Cheka intruded the hideout during that period of time. Isaiah put up a tough fight, killing many of them at one go. However, fate was working against him; they were better prepared than him as this was their ambush. One shot caught him unaware, blowing off a mechanical limb. And another shot. And yet another. Within a few moments, Isaiah was limbless, having only his head and his torso. Now, they pointed a gun at his head, the only human part left on his body. The leader mocked him, “Oh, so the famed NCO-01’s only a little boy. Boo-hoo. Well one boy less on this world won’t make much of a difference, will it? Tell us your name and you might live to see the daylight of tomorrow.”

Isaiah spat at his face.

The leader wiped off the muck on his face and glared at him. He spoke to his men in a foreign language and glared at NCO-01 once more. The leader was not intimidated; Isaiah was helplessly immobile. The leader said,” Well, we’ll torture you a bit, eh? You can say that it’s for the fun of it. Haha. LOL. Here goes…”

With that one of his men came forth and stuck a hair-thin needle like object inside his head. Poor Isaiah. That was a state-of-the-art weapon that would control any machine through a human brain; that object had killed many other mercenaries, and now it was Isaiah’s turn. He had no way to take it out, for he was limbless. Then the men took their time to fix back Isaiah’s mechanical arms, laughing along the way.

Still, Isaiah could not control his own movements. With that, the leader took out a small control box and said,”Raise your right arm.”

Isaiah did, though not of his own control.

“Gauge out that cybernetic eye.”

That Isaiah did too, and within a second he was screaming in pain; his cybernetic eye was left bloody on the floor and you could see his empty eye socket.

“Going to talk now?”

“NEVER!”

“Well, gauge out that good eye now.”

Isaiah did, and he was biting his lip so hard to contain the pain that it bled along with his other empty eye socket now.

“Last chance boy! Wanna talk?”

“I TOLD YOU, NEVER IN YOUR BLOODY FUCKHING LIFE! I DON’T CARE IF YOU KILL ME! ARRGH!”

“Very well then. Your wish is granted. Pull out his brains slowly,” the leader said, leaving the place with his men at the same time.

Isaiah did not fully understand the context of that sentence until his his weapons arm sawed off the top part of his head and the other arm was slowly ripping off small parts of his gray matter at a time.

“NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! NO! NOOOOOOO!”

He had long forgotten what pain was; yet an indescribable wave of both physical and mental pain currently overwhelmed him. He could feel his mind going…his memories were losing contact with his mind…was there even a mind? What was happening? Slowly, Isaiah lost contact with the world…he was losing his mind…literally. He forgot who he was, what he was, and that he even existed…all these overcame him slowly as the gray matter piled up on the ground beside him. At last, he forgot how to breathe, and died suffocating without knowing it.

Poor Isaiah. With a final motion of his controlled arm, he pulled out the rest of his brain and collapsed into a bloody heap; all that was left of the terrifying NCO-01 was now a mutilated mass of flesh, blood, gray matter and machinery that lay uselessly on the sandy ground, in a lonely, forgotten part of the desert.

End.