Feint (Part 1)

The screen's bright screen, a stark contrast to the dark, crepuscular room, remained monotonous as Shao's hand swiftly snapped at the keys. Narrowing his dark hues in utter chagrin - this was the last bit, and refusal to cooperation irked him terribly so - he set down the clipboard his free hand had been clinging to, and jabbed at the keys once more.  His initial reaction to the flickering computer screen was genuine, refined effervescence, his profile breaking into an expression of relief and excitement. This sort of response to his fiddling with the controls could only equal something called progress. Like all scientists, Shao did not believe in coincidence; he held faith prim arily on the topic of cause-and-effect. Fate, clashing with the desires of destiny with its cruel hand, creates the cause-and-effect logic of the world that exists in present time. There remains nigh depression, a mere nook in the crevices of life that one could call a "cause," and, in turn, that something permeable, passable reaction was associated with the definition of "effect." Logic deemed this the "Domino Effect." At the least, the smallest little detail that flaws the whole of perfection is what, he believed, the norm of society defined coincidence. Though, as one who refused to believe in the accidental occurrence of things, he preferred to view things with rationality lesser people lacked. Here, he trusted, this cause-and-effect logic would apply to the progress he had made with this project.

   Under the new design of the reigning family, schools were no longer needed, and teachers discarded of, mainly because of Shao. Shao had been part of the association that pertained to neurology, and he had been the one who discovered how to "remap" the brain and create the new possibility of creating artificial information; in short, he had "reprogrammed" the brain by taking advantage of the abilities already present, such as thinking and creating memories. Again, this had not been by coincidence, but solely by the fact that, through the information gathered, he had excruciatingly worked on the electrical responses of the brain and pairing them with equal amounts of wiring. The final result was, by taking advantage of the brain's ability to contain information upon being taught something, having wires, jointed every few millimeters or so with miniscule spheres called "line," run throughout the cerebrum, specifically in the thinking section. The wires, programmed to act similar to databases in computers, become "combined" with the brain after a period of time, and the brain is then capable of calling upon the artificial information stored within the bases. Shao himself was awarded lavishly for his discoveries, and it wasn't a wonder why - through this wiring, people suffering from disorders and retardation could have their disorders corrected, and those with sufficient riches could also flounder in intelligence. The royal family even had wirings, for what was a kingdom without smart rulers?

   This was the first time, however, that Shao attempted to insert an artificial person in a human, and none other than his son, Kazhu. Originally, he had surmised that the wiring could go about normally, until he realized that line was incapable of holding so much data without killing or reverting a person back to retardation - he had discovered this after a patient had killed herself through the excessive amount of information she had absorbed. Shao, in all honesty, in his thirst for success, was deficient in the sort of care a mother would have for her child; in other words, Shao would not care if his son died, for he would see it as another step towards science and infusing people into people. But if this was a success, of course he'd become the world's most powerful man; powerful, because he had defied the laws of nature by transforming the normal human brain into computers. He glanced at his wristwatch before removing a pen from his breast pocket. Perhaps he should stop his daydreaming, and return to his work. He jotted down the numbers that exploded onto the screen, his cobalt eyes absorbing every bit of data that burst onto the screen. His mind, automatically churning out bits and pieces of information as the numbers revealed themselves, put together puzzle pieces and conjured up every possible theory. His obstinacy in this will not be questioned - that was his mindset.

   His associates, Myrik and Sharm, were both present in the lab, interestingly enough. Offering a nod to assure his partners he was most definitely not dozing, his gaze tread back to his computer, shooting a look at his companions every once in a while. The task of creating a person outwardly appears easy, but the three of them were well aware of the trials and tribulations of the piece of work. Shao had been assigned the portion considering personality - it was difficult, since human personalities formed as they wished - which had birthed his frustration from the previous day. Today, however, he was determined to make sure nothing would rebel against his will. Sharm was to create the appearance, and Myrik the basic outline of the code - which is to say, creating the skeleton for the body and such.

Turning to the two men, he softly murmured, "We begin the operation tomorrow." His partners nodded before turning back to their computers.

   To himself, Shao murmured, "Tomorrow will a day in history, men."

   They were all present in the morning, moving to a different room then their lab. This room was brightly lit, wide and gargantuan in size. On the far walls were computers, hooked up to the computers that held the files in Shao's lab. Slightly off-center from the computers was a table. Shao, carrying the baby, set Kazhu on the table, eyes dull, but bright. He pulled the restrainers from the sides of the table, locking the child down. An infant was both predictable and unpredictable, and for an experiment like this, Shao did not dare leave anything unresolved. To himself, he murmured, "He's perfect." Myrik glanced upwards, blinking with curiosity. Myrik was easily the youngest member of the three, but his status was clearly above them - being the son of the president that owned the science institution, of course, Shao had anticipated a spoiled boy. On the contrary, Myrik was soft-spoken and reserved, raising his voice only to deadpan questions. He does, however, have a dreadful habit of slinging his sword everywhere with him. Shao heard the male's voice inquisitively lilt, "The test, sir? Or the subject?"

  "Both," he replied, closing his eyes.

  Sharm gritted his teeth, clearly vexed. Sharm was a nervous male that, despite his intellect, was shaky and unsure in his actions in general. He was always questioning, whether it be good or bad times, but Shao didn't consider him a nuisance. "I... I don't think this is right. Please, he's your son." Insantly, Shao shot him a glance of disappointment. "He's all I can work on, Sharm. I'll sacrifice him if need be."

   "But your wife--!"

   Ah... Shao even had a wife. He recalled stealing her son away from her sight in the night. The hospital room was dank and reeked of blood. He had lacked any emotion of regret, his sights set solely on his power, his status, and his goals. "Hush. Get the wires. Hook up the boy. Quickly." Shao turned on the computer, typing in a command that brought up the view of the main wire. Sharm realized that the wire was facing the ground, in turn creating an image of the white tiles. He nodded grimly, glancing at the baby that resided on the table. Kazhu, despite the cloth that was wrapped around his naked body, shivered with cold, his profile portraying his unconsciousness. Sharm pushed the table towards the computers, retreiving from under the table a collection of wires, small enough to wreath themselves into the boy's head. The morning before the scientists had arrived, the doctors that worked with Shao and his group had already gone about made the surgical prerequisites prior to the actual wiring. The doctors had placed the wires in the boy's brain already - the only obstacle that barred them from the final transfer was hooking the boy to the computers. Silently, Sharm slid the wires into the cut in Kazhu's head, making him squeak slightly but remain unconscious. Meticulously going about his work, Sharm glanced at the computer screen until he came in contact with the boy's brain. It was a beautiful one, if he had to say anything - but babies tended to have interesting heads to start with.

  "Myrik, is the program ready?" Shao called, trusting Sharm enough to complete his part of the work. "Yes, sir," the male replied, hitting a key on the other computer that brought up their files. Glancing for permission towards the leader, Myrik moved the mouse on the multiple files, highlighting them. Shao nodded.

  "He could die." Sharm's concerned voice deadpanned matter-of-factly as he stepped back, the wires resting neatly along the cortex. Shao shook his head, sighing in exasperation. "If he doesn't die, then it would be a huge leap in science. We would create a revolution. We could craft the world - if this succeeds." Shao chuckled lightly, his cobalt eyes studying the baby on the table, then the files that were ready to begin transfer. Sharm shook his head, his eyebrows knit together in concern. "He still has a possibility of death."

  "If he has my genes, he won't die," Shao growled lowly, ending the conversation. Sharm, taking note of the leader's voice, fell silent.

 Myrik's soft voice broke their silence, his cool tone tranquilizing the head scientist. "Shall we begin transfer, sir?"

  "Do so. And make it snappy, Myrik." Shao clicked his tongue, watching the file screen. Once Myrik typed in a few commands, he took a seat, his grey eyes dark with fascination.

   Sharm flinched at Kazhu's sobs - he hadn't expected the pain to be so excruciating that Kazhu would wake and cry. "Poor child. He's crying... How could we torture a newborn like this...?" he whispered, obscuring his mouth with his hand. Shao clicked his tongue, as a parent would if they were scolding their child. "I do what I must. Haven't you learned that by now, Sharm?"

  "Sir, his temperature is rising at an alarmingly rapid pace," Myrik called, twisting sharply to face the two scientists. His visage was contorted in an expression of pain and alarm, alternating his horrified gaze from the restrained child to his partners. "Currently at 101 degrees." He winced, turning back to the computer and watching the numbers flicker randomly and frighteningly.

  "He'll die at this rate!" Sharm shouted, starting towards Kazhu before Shao grabbed his arm, his expression dark. "He won't! Calm down!"

  "109 degrees," Myrik chimed, his usually cool voice now tinged with a frantic tone. He let out a breath, dithering with fear of failure. Kazhu's cries, once ear-splitting, dwindled down to muteness. Only Sharm dared break the silence, shattering it with a plain fact: "He's silent..." Following in hand was Myrik's deadpanning, "Sir, his temperature is now falling. Currently 105 degrees."

   Alarm painted the man’s face as Sharm slowly let out, "Is he... dead?" Myrik shook his head, a simper that clearly wasn't a simper touching his lips. "He is alive, but his heart is not beating. His body still moves. His soul still stirs."

  "The hell does that mean, Myrik?" the shaky scientist snapped, twitching. Shao snapped his fingers, nodding his head towards the boy. "Hush, Sharm. Look at him now."

   Kazhu's face was obscured by a black object, the infant's body convulsing in attempts to synchronize with the information relentlessly ramming into the line that jointed the wires. Small whines, similar to those a child that would protest in having to take a nap, bubbled out of the boy's mouth, his voice clearly deeper than Kazhu's earlier sobbing had let off. Sharm stifled a gasp as he watched the child's body grow at an amazingly swift pace until his small stature equaled that of a toddler.

  "His face! Where is it?" he cried, bewildered. Myrik coughed. "I'd assume it's behind the mask."

  "How did he obtain a mask?" Shao cried, quizzical. "Did we transfer that? I don't recall Sharalai having a mask in the programming."

  "Not to my knowledge, sir," Myrik responded, shaking his head. Shao snapped out of his confusion, clearing his throat. "But that's beside the point, Myrik. Was it successful?"

  "Yes, sir. Transfer complete." Myrik smiled. "Welcome, Sharalai."

  "My name is not Sharalai." The response was crisp and sharp, but that of a toddler's small, dolphin-squeak voice. Despite that, however, the voice commanded authority. "It is 'Ikansha.' That's what my host calls me, and that shall be my name."

  This response was clearly not anticipated by Shao, but he refrained from allowing the shock register on his visage. Regaining his composure, he exhaled, nodding as his palm met his forehead. "...Alright, Ikansha. Status report. Condition?"

  The boy stiffened, clearly unwilling to obey orders, abided by them anyway. "Fine." He sat up on the table, wrapping the cloth tightly around his small body. His face was still concealed by the black mask.

  "Systems?" Shao narrowed his eyes.

  "In check."

  "Memory?"

  His persistence irked the boy, and Shao was aware of it. "New."

  "That means she's alive?" Sharm's hopeful expression allowed a bark of laughter to leave Shao's lips. "She's a program with a heart, a mind, a soul. We've done something impossible... Congratulations, men." He clapped once, very slowly animated.

  "So we're not considered murderers?"

   The question in itself had all the disappointment from the earlier argument stream back to the scientist. "Does my son look dead to you, Sharm?" he quipped, sighing. Sharm's honest response was a, "Yes."

  Myrik chirped, "So what shall we do with Ikansha, sir?"

  "I'm afraid you won't be doing anything with me." Ikansha's ominous expression backed up his words. His toddler body was disturbing, as the authority that his voice commanded was, after all, borne by a simple child.

  "What are you talking about, Ikansha?" Shao laughed, appearing almost like a lunatic; his eyes, wide with laughter, and his face, stretched with a smile that only insane people could understand. Ikansha was not fazed, however, and he quietly answered, "Master Shao, it is just as I said. I will not be fondled like a toy."

  The sanity returned to Shao's expression as he shouted, "Sharm, shut him down!" The nervous man fled to the computers, gently pushing Myrik away. He nodded, leaving his seat as he watched Sharm wildly type every reverting command he was aware of. He shook his head as a window flickered onto the screen, followed by many more. "I cannot - we will be killed!" Ikansha smiled at the computer, tearing the wires out of his head as he stepped off the table.

   "My poor, dear host has no need to see this... Shall I close his eyes?" he murmured, incling his head towards his feet, his fingers deftly climbing down the mask. It vanished as code, only to be stored in the line of the wires. Sharm flinched as the watched the child, wheeling the chair backwards. "The mask-"

   Shao promptly cut him off as he studied the child, his son's body that Ikansha now inhabited. "Wait! I-Ikansha is a male? Hadn't we programmed her to be a female?" Shao screeched, oscillating abruptly in the youngest scientist's direction. "What is this nonsense, Myrik?"

   The male stammered, "I-I don't know, sir."

   Ikansha smiled as half of his mask had been torn. In replacement of the eye socket on his left, "Where is his eye?" Myrik studied the boy, and then murmured, "It appears to be... that flame, sir."

   "And you would be correct, Master Myrik - this flame is my eye. Now, shall we dance?" Ikansha smiled, bending down to trace the crevices in the tiles of the floor. He glanced upwards at the scientists, his flame dimming slightly.

  "He's going to kill us!" Sharm whispered, his eyes wide with fear. "As if I don't know that, Sharm!" Shao's shoulders sagged - his beautiful dream is gone; where had it all shattered into this nightmare?

   "I'll fight - I have experience with a sword." Myrik twisted his wrist slightly to separate the sheath from his hip. He drew the blade from its sheath, spinning the hilt on his pointer finger as the weapon itself landed snugly into his palm. Shao whistled, warning him with, "Careful, Myrik. He isn't what we programmed him to be."

   "Master Myrik, will you nurture my host when I am unable? I might consider sparing such a wise individual," Ikansha drawled, giggling much like a child would if they had won something. Myrik shook his head. "As much as my heart pounds in fear of this feat, my loyalties lie with the institution."

  Sharm's snap came out intentionally; what he had meant to be a mark of encouragement exited as an order. "Myrik, shut him down, now!"

  "Sir, can't you see?" Myrik lilted, locking his shoulder back. "Ikansha has malfunctioned. His appearance and personality is all incorrect. The program was derived of any fighting capabilities, and the only possibility of him having any knowledge of the fight is if he malfunctioned during the information transfer." His expression softened. "I will have to ask you and Sharm to flee."

  "I won't allow that. You've caused my poor host a nightmare." Ikansha reached out to the table, snapping its legs. Lifting one of the legs, he flipped the object, nodding in approval. Ikansha’s flame zeroed in on the scientist, circles illustrating exposed points on the human’s body and angled lines connecting skillful places to link moves. The child nodded, leaning close to the ground as he moved. Myrik drew back slightly, parrying the blow that Ikansha directed towards his chest. Ikansha spared no time, switching hands as he struck towards Myrik’s exposed side. He grimaced, twisting and reflecting with his metal blade. What caught the scientist off-guard was the fact that he was fighting a toddler – despite the fact this toddler had the intelligence of a supercomputer, Myrik hadn’t the capability to direct his mind off his appearance.

  "You're strong for being in a child's body, Joker." The comment came out lightly as his feet scuffed the floors, his movements light and graceful as a swordsman’s movements should be. Ikansha followed him just as gracefully, despite the fact his miniscule stature would have normally prevented such a feat. He smiled at the remark, leaping backwards and alternating feet as he hopped.

  "Why, thank you,” he purred, bolting towards the scientist and making an uppercut with the leg. “This is how you made me, Master Myrik." Myrik deflected it, though he could clearly sense a question in the child’s ambiance. The unspoken inquiry of whether the scientist was proud of his creation or not was clear in his aura and the scientist was rather pitiful of the others’ inquisitive state.

  "I know everything about you,” Myrik muttered, expending a little extra burst of energy to throw Ikansha away from him. The child shook his head, clearly abstaining from going for the traditional slice. Instead, he swerved to Myrik’s right, slamming his leg into the others’ blade.

“I made you. I created you with the depths of love in my heart. And yet, here we stand - fighting." Myrik’s tone suggested tearfulness, coupled with it being tinged with misery."But what you don't know is that my host is crying with the pain of this fight, and his misery gives me more strength than I can bear. It's delicious." Ikansha patted himself, as if he were comforting someone else, though Myrik couldn’t go so far to surmise a conclusion yet. Another suggestion of superiority left Myrik’s lips. "I've lived far longer than you have, Ikansha."

  Ikansha, however, remained sober as he responded, "You gave me a mind. I can now think, without stupidity, and I thank you for that." The sentence was genuine, though Myrik shot one more comment he knew Ikansha wouldn’t be able to resist: "You fear me." And Ikansha laughed a toddler’s laugh, staring into Myrik’s monochromatic eyes. "I was made to have no fear.” Ikansha was so very matter-of-fact with his words, and Myrik realized this also translated into his deftness with a weapon. His arm, having blocked and held the boy’s weapon, suddenly contracted, and his blade flew from his hand. The metal clattered onto the floor, remaining silent forevermore. Ikansha chuckled as he struck the male’s vital areas. Once he had fallen to Ikansha’s short height, the child pressed somewhat harshly the leg onto Myrik’s chest. "Now that I have you at point blank, I could do whatever I'd likeI could choke you to death. I could destroy your nerves. I could blind and deafen you, then torture you."

  "But you wouldn't give me a pleasant death,” Myrik growled, reading the other. He and his blade were far too segregated for the wielder to be able to retrieve it. Vexed and frustrated, he stared at his creation. What he did question was the fact that his heart was tranquil and beating normally. Why was he calm when he was being threatened with death by a mere child?

  "I will, for your sake, if that pleases my master so." Ikansha’s expression gave away nothing, and Myrik bowed his head. Defeat by his creation – it was like computers defeating its creators, the humans. It was humiliating, yet exciting – something one would be ecstatic for, but also something one could be shamed for. He shook his head, exhaling. "Then... I lay down my blade."

  "Myrik!"

Shao’s voice of shock had reached him at last – he was faintly aware of his audience, and had been completely oblivious to them as he battled Ikansha. It was a rebuke, a cry of regret. Myrik was almost touched, his gaze becoming gentle before hardening again as he glared at Ikansha. "I have no regrets – except you.”

  "Oh, how you flatter me," Ikansha lilted, twisting the leg. He blinked, as if something malfunctioned within him – which was rather amusing for Myrik to imagine, because, was it possible for a malfunction to malfunction? He then smiled. Raising his hand, he snapped the wrist to the right abruptly, and Myrik felt something in his organs twist. Grimacing, he lurched, consciously able to feel his heart wrenching itself as it stopped pumping and beating. His fingers twitched slightly as he fell to the side, his breath shortening until his life organ ceased its duty.

  Sharm flinched. "E-eugh..."

  "And there, he lies. One great mind, gone…” Shao shook his head with sympathy. He drew back to glance at the toddler who had killed one of his associates. Ikansha smiled as he glanced at the other two. Sharm winced. "Will you kill us as well?"

   Ikansha’s flame changed shape to make it appear as if he were raising an eyebrow. The expression soon changed into one of mirth. "Please. I have no need for servants such as you. My host will be my single servant. He will be my friend, my servant, my toy, my single infatuation."

  Sharm remained silent, unable to think of a way out of this predicament. Shao, however, scrutinized the floor as he whispered, "Take care of him. My son.”

A victorious smile touched the boy’s lips as he raised his hand again. "Of course. Good night, masters."

-end of part 1