Shall Machines Divide the Earth (Machine Mandate, #3)

by Benjanun Sriduangkaew

The lift ascends fast, depositing me exactly where I should be; I can access only the room I’ve rented and no other. The door looks like it has been carved from a single slab of basalt. I push and it admits. Inside the lighting has been dimmed and the panoramic window opaqued, projecting a foreign sky far from here: an indigo expanse embroidered with constellations and fractured moth-moons. The air is cool, faintly fragranced with magnolias. I unpack, check that my weapons are in order and my spare ammo is accounted for, then move on to implant maintenance. Most of mine are non-removable, upkept by my own metabolism and a little nanite assistance, but there are a few external embeds. When I lost most of my natural limbs—what a long time ago that was—I opted to replace them with prostheses and cybernetics. I prefer them to their flesh counterparts. To be broken down is an opportunity to be reborn. To be erased is an opportunity to reinvent yourself. All you need is a will as pure and voracious as a wolf’s.