[FFML] Frozen Butterfly, Chapter 1 a BGC fic

[croaker at rochester.rr.com]

Very interesting... love to see more of this.

---- skychan <skywize at gmail.com> wrote: 
> Hello,
> 
> It's been a long time since I've really posted here and only the second
> story I've actually written.  The first was done rather slapdash without
> thought and sputtered out without a real plot or destination.  This time I
> actually do have ideas for the full arc of the first story and plans for
> where to go if I keep writing it beyond that.  What I'm looking for now is
> help and sugestions on style and your impressions on reading it to see if
> I've gotten what I am looking for across.
> 
> Thank you and I hope you enjoy reading it,
> Skywise, Skychan
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Frozen Butterfly a story of Bubblegum Crisis
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
>  Chapter 1.0 – Wake Up!
> 
> I woke in a haze of blurry light, feeling strangely disassociated from my
> body.
> 
> Any movement seemed to take my full concentration. drawing a breath,
> letting it out.
> 
> drawing a breath,
> 
> letting it out,
> 
> drawing a breath,
> 
> letting it out.
> 
> As I lay there slowly remembering how to breathe I became aware of a
> background murmur, voices pinging in my mind, and just like that awareness
> snapped into clear understanding, the crisp tones of a man imperiously
> asking "why hasn't *it* opened its eyes yet, have you both failed and
> wasted my time calling me down for this activation?"
> 
> Wait, opened its eyes?  Almost afraid to be right I deliberately thought
> about it, focused on parting my lashes the blurred light giving way slowly
> to a pale white paneled ceiling as my eyelids indeed parted providing me a
> clear view.  It was strange taking long moments for me to put meaning to
> the image, my thoughts tracing the entire shape of a light fixture before
> realizing for the first time what I was looking at.  Panic began to fill my
> thoughts, this was the first thing I could recall seeing since, since,
> dinner, or was it driving home, I couldn't remember exactly  and suddenly
> being here, laying in a bed and as I forced myself to look to one side
> surrounded by medical equipment began to make a dreadful kind of sense.
> 
> The slight smell of hydrocarbons and motor oil – *Carbon 85% Hydrogen 12%
> Nitrogen 1% Oxygen 1% Sulfur 1% *– didn't and I couldn't recognize any of
> the machines specifically but I was laying on a bed, no strapped to one,
> the feel of nylon straps and thin sheets jumping to mind once I thought
> about it.  As I looked down strangely enough the world did not seem to
> shift or sway, my breath steady pulse even, despite seeing something that
> just shouldn’t have been there.  Two, shapely, perky, lumps, that on
> reflection could only be a pair of breasts, my breasts rising up right
> where a flat chest should have been, shouldn't it?
> 
> I sat there processing that unsuccessfully, thoughts jumping around from
> Heinlein to Ranma, logic arguing it couldn't be, facts and the ghost
> sensation of cloth on my skin that it must, and through it all a feeling of
> quiet pride.  So distracting was it that it took one of the men snapping
> his fingers in front of my face to draw my attention back from the abyss to
> the conversation around me.
> 
> Curiously enough I noticed both the ceiling and his fingers remained in
> perfect focus so detailed it was slightly dizzying adding the power of a
> headache to my response.  "Yes, of course I can speak, what's going on,
> where am I?" irritation and upset slipping into my voice, my subtly wrong
> voice as I found myself speaking falsetto.
> 
> Ignoring me now, apparently the simple fact of my response enough for him
> the severe sounding man – Japanese and wearing a finely tailored suit –
> turned to another, clearly a doctor as a deliberate shift of my head to
> look over at the pair revealed him wearing an almost stereotypical white
> overcoat.   "Congratulations, it appears you've been successful."  His tone
> was dry, something telling me that well-wishing was the last thing on his
> mind as he went on.  "I will want an update on the status of the project by
> the end of the day."  Then with a brisk nod he spun on his heal and was out
> the door before I could think of blinking.
> 
> My indignation rising at being so ignored, dismissed without even a glance,
> I turned my head, again a very deliberate motion the act seeming almost
> unnatural to watch the doctor slowly rise out of a deep bow towards the
> clang of the door falling shut in his superiors wake.  He was also
> Japanese, a rail thin man, with balding hair in a poor comb over and thin
> glasses, *probability of being single 74%.*  I spoke up.  "Well, are you
> going to say anything?" my voice biting and colder than I remember being
> capable of, but with just the right level of bite to make him respond.
> 
> The man jerked up looking over at me, his face twitching slightly in
> surprise but showing little reaction beyond that.  Somehow knew he was
> pleased, it was strange, I had never seen him before and certainly he
> wasn't smiling but as I lay there, looking at him I kept fixating on the
> crinkle of eyelid here, the twitch of cheek there, and his changing pulse
> and I was sure, *87.5%* certain I told myself, that he was pleasantly
> surprised.  That with the need to actually think about swallowing nervously
> drove home to me the surreality of the situation.
> 
> "Oh yes, please to excuse me."  He said, his smile growing fully visible to
> my eyes.  "My name is Sutekina san."  He paused then, as if to get his
> bearings before continuing.  "You have been… in tragic accident, yes, we
> have just to recover your mind done.  Please to let us know how you are
> feel.  Is you in discomfort, or of having any trouble thinking clearly?"
> 
> After his earlier smooth speech his suddenly stilted English felt wrong,
> but I didn't focus on that long.  Instead I found myself thinking of his
> request and actually I was really quite comfortable, even though I was
> strapped down, and obviously my body wasn't original – for some reason the
> phrase that it wasn't mine just didn't process.  The pinch of the straps
> wasn't actually painful, and I was functioning just fine without any of the
> minor annoyances, itches, aches or pains I was familiar with ignoring.
> 
> Sure I was aware of things that might have been considered annoying, the
> imprint of the hospital gown's ties in my back, the chill of the air *17
> degrees Celsius* over my toes, but somehow none of it bothered me.  Certainly
> it couldn’t be as big an issue as realizing that I was thinking
> possessively of my body.  It was actually mine, if not my original one, and
> I couldn't quite parse those thoughts, the problem threatening to drag me
> down into a silently screaming vortex of frustrated confusion.
> 
> Either he was a naturally patient man or all these thoughts took not time
> at all for he showed no irritation in his wait for my reply.  I settled for
> shaking my head slightly, the slight pause between decision and
> implementation as I thought about doing so troubling enough to bring up.  "I,
> seem to be having to think about everything I do."  My lighter contralto
> voice mirroring my concern and embarrassment at having to admit it quite
> well, and bringing to mind that it was a very good ploy at engaging the
> scientist's emotional protective responses and aiding in creating a bond
> with my savior.  Thoughts of which sent a warm almost happy feeling through
> my body.
> 
> Realizing I had answered in perfectly fluent Japanese rather than English
> to his question was enough to almost made me miss his reply, and only the
> unexpected ability to rapidly replay, with perfect recollection his words,
> including tone and inflection let me catch it.  The impression of surprise
> and accomplishment on his face at hearing his native tongue only increasing
> his pleasure in my response and towards me to a *98% certainty.*
> 
>  "Yes, that's normal, even for standard models, it takes some time for the
> neural architecture to pattern natural reactions and movements into the
> body.  However we've made quite a bit of progress and I don't believe you
> will have any real difficulty.  Now then, do you recall signing up for
> cryogenics?"  His giddiness only tempered by the need to continue
> explaining as I nodded once more, this time with only a little attention to
> the motion too many troubling thoughts in the back of my mind to make sense
> of all his, and my physiological responses.
> 
> "Well then, good, your body died in late 2012, from an automobile accident.
> However the team responsible for the safe recovery and storage of your
> brain was unusually lucky and competent.  We believe you should retain over
> 90% of your memories given time to sit back and think, recovering and
> recreating the mental pathways."  Anticipating my next request, the
> hesitation imposed as I had to think about taking a deep breath to voice it
> he went on.  "Miss Kari, It is now 2032, and while cryotech incorporated no
> longer exists we took custody of your mind and have now inserted you into a
> fully functioning and functional cyberdroid."
> 
> By now I had had enough time thinking, to realize that I was not nearly
> panicked enough for the situation and decided to speak up on the matter.  "Why
> aren’t I screaming my head off, in English by the way, I was male, and now
> I'm clearly not, and what is a cyberdroid, shouldn't I have been
> resuscitated in my own body or my clone or something like that, wasn’t it
> the deal?"
> 
> "Oh, really?" he seemed to peer at me.  "I'm terribly sorry, we thought
> with your given name you were female, and of course well, with only your
> brain in storage… in any case your contract did not specify the form in
> which you were to be revived, or limitations.  Perhaps something was lost
> with the merger.  Please forgive us for such an unfortunate mistake.  Please,
> can you tell me, are you feeling uncomfortable with yourself, your body?"  His
> words made some funny sort of sense, but I knew they were a lie – *90%
> certainty due to facial tick and change in posture*, and when I thought
> about it the small clues came immediately to the forefront of my mind.  *Pulse,
> respiration, pupil dilation*, every clue pointed to a well-planned
> deception but performed by an amateur, and I had no idea why I knew it.
> 
> Still, he *deserved* some kind of response, and I just didn't feel like
> lying quite yet, even though I did decide then and there not to trust my
> wellbeing to these people a moment longer than absolutely necessary.  "No,
> actually, it's almost concerning how… comfortable being me feels."  *Shift
> in muscle tension indicates subject's increasing pleasure at response.*  "You
> haven't tampered with my mind have you?"  That concern, the largest I could
> think of was on the forefront of my mind.  I didn't know how I could read
> him so well, but figured at least asking the question would get an answer
> and lie or not I would have the truth.
> 
> "Oh no, that would completely invalidate the procedure."  He answered with
> admirable sincerity *probability 75%*.  "Why, you don't even have any of
> the standard overrides or security conditioning for your model, it was part
> of the test design specifications that your mind and free will be entirely
> un-tampered with.  It is only the hardware that…"  I think he might have
> gone on but a rather harried individual *probability of anxiety 80%*,
> younger, with much better personal grooming entered the room at an
> indecorous pace.   "That’s quite enough for now doctor why don't you let
> him adjust for an hour or two and rest."  Flashing me an insincere smile I
> suspected he hadn't just referred to my old gender by mistake due to
> listening in this time almost able to feel myself making the subconscious
> calculations on his sincerity.  "We'll be back to speak with you more in a
> little while Ms. Ceallaigh, until then just relax, and let us know if you
> have any problems or are uncomfortable." – S*ubject gestures of concern
> false 99% probable.*
> 
> Virtually dragging Dr. Sutekina out of the room with him I was quickly left
> alone, still strapped down, and left to think about my situation in the
> echoes of the closing door.  I would have called it dull, but surprisingly
> as I lay there going over what had happened, analyzing it moment by moment,
> I found plenty to occupy my attention.  The first thing of course was my
> body.  It didn't seem to be an immediate concern, which of course was why I
> immediately started to mentally panic, something that is actually hard to
> do when your breathing is steady, pulse normal and not the slightest hint
> of adrenaline to help hysteria along.  I just didn't feel alien to myself.  In
> every story I ever read where this sort of thing had happened the
> protagonist felt upset, out of place, and uncomfortable.  But to be honest
> it all just sort of fit and felt right – *functioning at peak efficiency no
> problems detected.  *
> 
> Now, I felt awkward and self-conscious, but that wasn't because I was
> uncomfortable, despite the restraints, or that it felt wrong, just that I
> had to keep thinking about what I was doing.
> 
> It was like… learning to golf, stand like this, keep your eye on the ball,
> swing just so, and if you don't pay attention to every little movement
> you're going to slice like mad and there goes another ball into the
> weeds.  This
> felt just the same, but with a little less swing and a much better
> kinesthesia.  I spent maybe half an hour just moving within the confines
> allowed to me, but already things were beginning to feel more, natural,
> less deliberate in execution.  Unfortunately this growing familiarity just
> left me more time to think.
> 
> Okay, I was dead.  That's depressing.  On the other hand I had a chance now
> to do all the things I had never gotten around to before I died…  Right,
> that’s a mind bender right there.  So, I was dead, but living, and it
> seemed like I had all my memories and was myself, though how to know for
> sure.  I decided then and there that was a path I wasn't going to travel,
> true or not, I wasn't willing to dive down that dark path and drive myself
> crazy with doubting myself.
> 
> So, I'm myself, I'm a cyberdroid, Accept it.
> 
> Though just what does that mean?
> 
> From just seeing my delicate fingers wiggling from the cuffs holding me to
> the bed I looked perfectly human.  My fingers felt normal as I rubbed them
> together.  The first discrepancy came when pinching my hip didn't bring a
> yelp of pain, but still I knew it hurt, could feel the pain and certainly
> wasn't eager to prolong the experience it just didn't keep me from thinking
> clearly and there was no overwhelming urge to stop.  Letting go I traced my
> hip through the thin hospital gown.  It seemed to me I had a normal bone
> structure and I couldn't hear any whirring, ticking or engines to drive the
> movements so I assumed that whatever else it was a cyberdroid was pretty
> human.
> 
> Straining as hard as I could the next conclusion was easy, I wasn't super
> strong, and not about to be able to break the nylon straps keeping me in
> place.  Just for grins I decided to hold my breath.  Counting the seconds
> silently to myself I realized my count was off, one Mississippi just
> doesn't match an internal clock for timekeeping regularity or accuracy.  I
> could feel the need for air, but it was less than normal, a desire rather
> than necessity and I decided to stop at the five minute mark exactly.  I
> had a feeling I could have pushed it longer but didn't want to risk injury,
> or breakage?  I wonder which it would be.
> 
> My introspection was interrupted by the return of the second doctor, one
> whose specialty I was beginning to suspect was not in internal medicine and
> definitely not bedside manner.
> 
> "Stop that, you'll damage yourself." He snapped out sounding annoyed.  "Don't
> you realize how delicate you are, we just got you functioning, don't go
> ruining our work now."  It was official; he was not going to be one of my
> favorite people.
> 
> "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you or anything, I was just, testing
> myself a little, there weren't cyberdroids when I di- was frozen remember."
> I wasn't quite sure why I felt the need to defend myself, a nervous tension
> floating through my body and a slight sickness to my stomach joining a
> blush on my cheeks.
> 
> "So I don't exactly know what to expect, or limitations, anything.  Do I
> need to eat, plug in, visit the little girl's room?"  By the last question
> I could tell with a certain amount of satisfaction I was starting to annoy
> him and the embarrassed blush receded.  *Focus of subject on unit –Self –
> increasing to acceptable levels.*
> 
> I think it was my attitude that threw him off balance.  Whatever else he
> was expecting; an interrogation about my bathroom requirements in a biting
> sarcastic tone wasn't it.  I got to watch him visibly pulling himself
> together, a warm sensation in the back of my mind analyzing everything
> about him as he ran a hand through his hair, *84% likelihood action taken
> to buy time*.  Unfortunately he did consider his words before speaking
> again, clearly more composed and ready to explain on his terms not mine.
> 
> "I see, forgive me, you are the first recovery I've been in charge of and I
> forgot that there are some things you wouldn't know." *Subject insincere
> 92% probability.  *Assuming a lecturing stance he went on.  "It would be
> best to go over what will happen in the next few days and your new bodies
> capabilities.  For most purposes you may treat it as you would your own,
> however be aware it needs far less food.  Your current needs will be met
> directly through an IV solution specifically formulated to meet it's needs.
> Later some food will be necessary to facilitate the chemical reactions that
> allow the proper function of your system. You can plug in directly to power
> your functions, but energy alone will not support your systems indefinitely
> and your model was not designed with that in mind.  You are a class 33-S
> and as such far more biological in nature than most designs.  Your body
> requires down time for "sleep" an autonomous maintenance cycle.  We will be
> evaluating your… mental return and after testing you will be allowed to
> leave."
> 
> I could feel the sleaziness coming from the man in waves, an uncomfortable
> oily sensation as he talked over me, not really to me.  Sure he might be
> telling the truth – *65% probability*, but despite his attempt to exude a
> feeling of concern and care all I really picked up was calculated grime and
> manipulation.
> 
> What he said made sense, but I couldn't help but feel there was something
> rather less than normal about the whole situation.  It was all too,
> unpracticed assuming that brining people back from the dead was normal in
> 2032 that is.
> 
> Then as I pondered that oily feeling in my mind I remembered, or perhaps
> more accurately recalled my first moments of consciousness, that this was
> the 'first' activation and that to someone high up in this organization I
> wasn't a person, but an 'it' and the shiftiness and lack of preparation
> began to make more sense.  They hadn't done this before, I was part of a
> test of some kind and if what the nice balding doctor had said was accurate
> while my body might be production my mind and getting it there certainly
> wasn’t.  At best I was a beta test butterfly hoping none of the bugs would
> be large and vicious enough to eat me before I could spread my wings.
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