Daf Tunkt

“Nobody can hear you scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Those were the words spoken not to long ago when Daf Tunkt was almost over-run by cyborgs. Their humanity chips were wirelessly disabled, and they attacked. Everyone blamed the King and Queen. It wasn’t their fault, my parents were not to blame.

The design was flawed, and so today we reveal the new brand of Cyborg. Human, I repeat, human, volunteers with technology enhancements. These models have very real humanity, there is nothing more human than humans themselves.

We also have a safety switch, one for each and every person in Daf Tunkt. They were carefully constructed by my most trusted advisor. There is a collar, minimal and Daf Tunkt blue, it matches our eyes. But this is not just some accessory, it must be worn at all times to ensure your safety. I myself am wearing one and you will all receive yours as soon as you are summoned to your local medical facility. They must be worn, and so because of that they will be impossible to get off, except of course with our special device used only when your collar needs to be resized at your yearly check-up. This collar holds a safe chemical mix that in the event that something does go wrong with a cyborg, this chemical mix will scramble their thought process and they will see you as one of their own. This is only a safety precaution, yes, but a necessary one. And although our new cyborgs are good, you have no choice but to wear the collar. It is by order that you must.”

2 Weeks Later

Standing in front of the mirror, Mitch carefully feels along the completely smooth neon blue collar.

“Come on,” he mumbles to himself. “I found you yesterday.” He starts sliding his nail along then stops with a smirk. He picks up a shining peg and places it over the tiny, barely there joint he’d found in the collar.

“I’m sorry Mitch, it’s gonna hurt, but this thing doesn’t go with your hair,” he says to himself before he taps a few keys on his keyboard. He hesitates before pressing the last key, the current zaps through him, throwing him off his seat.

He lays on the ground with wide eyes. After a moment he slowly sits up with his purple hair standing on end and his collar drops off. He just hopes he hasn’t fully fried it.

He has some investigating to do and he needs this collar to do it.

Mitch doesn’t know if he trusts the queen. Ever since he’s gotten his collar he hasn’t felt like himself, so he had to get it off. And now that he has he’s never felt more alive, but that could also be the electricity running through his veins.

Now he feels like he has enough energy to do anything, probably also from the shock, but this is good because he is going to have to stay up late to crack Queen Kirstin’s dastardly plan. He knows there has to be a plan, no one can actually be that nice, it just isn’t possible.

Studying the end of the neon blue collar that really just looks like one of those ancient glow sticks. He stares intently at the wires, the tiny wires.

“Nope, Wyatt I’m blind, take a look at this for me.” He opens a glowing purple draw in his computer system and connects it to a plug point within as the screen lights up.

“But if it’s gonna corrupt your system then spit it out. Your rebuilding process was not fun for either of us last time, you did lose a bit of weight though,” he smiles at the screen like he might get a reply, but he hasn’t figured out how to make Wyatt do that yet. The system could understand him and follow instructions, Wyatt could speak, but they couldn’t have a conversation. Mitch still has hope that maybe, just maybe Wyatt might be smart enough already to teach himself to converse.

A magnified image of the collar appears on Wyatt’s screen and Mitch stares at it. He didn’t know what he was expecting to see, something more obvious perhaps? It is just a larger version of what he didn’t understand before, the collar just looks like a wire.

His hand goes to his mouth, his thumbnail to his teeth. “Is the chemical inside poisonous? Can I crack it?”

“Mitch, why would she make you wear a necklace full of poison?” He turns to the left in his chair.

“Why wouldn’t she make everyone wear a necklace full of poison!” He spins right.

“Because she’s a good Queen.” He twirls left.

“How do we know she’s a good Queen? A well-placed dart to the collar and a threat is neutralized,” he slides his hand across his throat as his chair slowly rotates.

“Well put Mitch.”

“Thank you Mitch.”

Wyatt beeps and begins rattling off a list of compounds from the collar, Mitch swivels to attention.

His eyes widen as he listens, hoping he understands correctly. He slumps back in his chair, “Holy mother of God… we’re fucked.”