Five cables lead from data ports in the prototype exo-shell arm, trailing and uniting at the base of the test-helmet sat snugly on Sky’s head, only their mouth visible tucked beneath the rim of the dropdown visor. Despite the size and heft of the device, Skylar found it paradoxically comfortable, the gyroscopic arm connected to stabilise movements of the user doing most of the heavy lifting they guessed, impressing DSR-357 during the initial calibration. They barely registered the device’s presence after some tuning, almost becoming one with it all too easily.

“So what you see that we got here,” rambled on 357 as it positioned the long, heavy, unwieldy exo-shell over the workbench as planned with ease, “is a next generation power armour prototype intended for hostage rescue and SWAT teams, early stages still. The Central Hive designed the movement and armour systems, but required assistance with the haptic-feedback responses and sent the designs here.”

Haptic feedback? What good is armour you can feel pain through?

DSR-357 snapped through, as if reading Skylar’s mind, “It is intended to bond the user and armour to a greater degree than any of its predecessors, to grant the user heightened awareness and agility in high risk situations.” Corporate talk for; “Getting shot at.” Skylar feels sorry for who or whatever is the intended recipient of this titanic appendage.

RCT-717 rolled a chair up opposite Skylar on the workbench, sitting directly in front of them, its entire form directing their gaze to its darkened, focused visor. Managing to weakly pull their eyes down, Skylar saw the intended effect of positioning them like this with the exo-shell. What sat in front of them, safely separated across the workbench was their right arm, bracelet they had picked out for luck clinging to their wrist, and the imposing, bulky steel arm of a monster in place of their left.

Four inch thick plating of a material so far above Sky’s pay grade, surrounding a series of servos, hydraulic systems and the cavity for the pilot’s arm is to reside in later iterations, lined with what looked like a fiber mesh padding around the wrist and forearm. All very deliberately designed, even if they didn’t know the reason, Skylar knew there was a reason. Each individual component played a vital role in how this would function, like organs powering a body. Like drones operating a hive.

What Skylar questioned most, however, was the strength of the industrial frame hoisting the shell up above the workbench, above their arm hidden out of sight from them. 357 says that by visually connecting the shell with where their left arm would normally be, while hooked up to the test helmet, they would recognise the arm as their own and respond to physical sensations through the shell, to an extent.

“Well, Skylar, how do you feel? Comfortable?” RCT-717’s voice snapped Sky’s already awed eyes from the arm and directly to its pitch black, deep void of a visor. Skylar started to muster the strength to reply, but before they could squeeze the words out, 717 gently cut them off; “no need to speak, subject. A simple nod would do.”

Whether Skylar was comfortable or not didn’t matter anymore as they just nodded on cue.

“Good subject~”

Skylar shivered with bliss, the special compliment hitting their ears as 717’s visor slowly faded to life. A warm, light green spiral starts to encroach over the gloss surface. The fuzzy emerald glow drowning out Skylar’s peripherals. To them the workshop was a distant memory, all that registered was the drone sitting in front of them, inviting them ever deeper into the spiral, holding attention away from the scrap arm.

“Three deep, slow breaths in… and out. That’s a good subject.” RCT-717 just spoke and Skylar followed, their body slowing and following the entrancing drone’s twisting words ever downwards.

Th-this is new, fe-feels as if I’m floating through a d-day dream.

“Just continue breathing at that nice steady pace, feel yourself blowing away more and more stress from your body, each exhale leaving you more and more relaxed.”

717 was clearly experienced, Sky could see how a sales bot could use hypnosis very effectively. With just a few words spoken in a very sweet, special voice and a little lightshow to capture their attention, the unit had been all but able to get them to forget the stand-in arm.

“Two big deep breaths and it wants you to push the last of the stress out of your system. That’s it, you have been such a good subject for us today, listening so closely.”

Sky let out one last big exhale, clearing their entire system and leaving themself almost numb from blissful relaxation. They sank deeper into the high backed, safe impact programming chair, whatever super memory foam material sewn into the cushions giving way and lowering them even further down into trance.

“One last thing, this unit will snap its fingers, and once it does, you will fall deep into trance, your mind a blank slate for it to mold and shape into something more useful. You have been such a good subject, and it knows you will still be, letting the snap ring through your system, filling you with bliss and draining you of agency, letting your body be under this one’s secure guidance for this short demonstration.”

Skylar emptily nodded.

Zero

Snap

-

-

Down

-

-

Deeper

-

Down Skylar fell into the rabbit hole of their own psyche. Losing material awareness and connection to their own body, sitting so peacefully, laid ever so far back into the cocoon of a chair.

“That’s it, good little subject, just let yourself drift down, let this one’s words puppet you and your empty body along.”

Their body. They felt… disconnected from their body. As if the drive that contained their consciousness was safely ejected leaving a trace awareness, only so much that 717 allowed.

“Let your eyes slowly drift open now. That’s it. Them rising on their own, ever so gently, the world around you lighting up with the soft spiral spotlight of the Hive. See your arms before you, resting, so peacefully.”

Sky’s neck gave way slightly, head rolling forward to see what 717 meant.

Are these my arms? They don’t feel like my arms.

“Yes they are,” it was in their head, the gently invading unit was now responding directly to their thoughts, answering them before Sky had a chance to ask them. “This one,” a chill ran up Skylar’s arm and down their back as 717 sensually embraced their right arm, “is old, or rather, represents how you have been living before today.”

717 rubbed the exposed arm, pushing the sleeve of the professionally casual shirt up to expose more of their pale, outdated, baren flesh. Each stroke sent a shiver through their relaxed system of nerves, laying them flat and unresponsive once again. The unit trailed its hand down the invisible path of Skylar’s forearm, lifting each finger until just one remained, circling a spot on their wrist that felt just oh so good to them. Each little turn over their sensitive skin sending a brief, little pulse that would reverberate in every corner of their body. If they were standing Skylar would have buckled at the knees at how good it was making their body shake.

“But,” 717 interrupted the serene sensuality, lifting its delicate digits away from its subdued plaything, “we here are about embracing our futures.” It hovered its hand over the table, to the other awaiting appendage. “And this is yours, little subject. A future of stability and strength.” The hands clamped down onto the bulk sized wrist on the opposite end of the bench.

It was strange. Skylar couldn’t feel the impact, but still flinched instinctively as they saw the hands make contact with the thick, cold plating facing upwards.

“A future united through structure, routine and code.”

Structure. Routine. Code.

The words struck an unseen chord deep within Skylar, as if they realised these were each aspects they didn’t realise they were missing in their life.

“Can you feel this, dear subject?” Skylar’s attention drifted back to 717, gently cradling the steel lying limp on the table.

It’s not that they couldn’t feel it, there were… traces of a familiar sensation, ghosts of a memory to come. They knew how it should feel, those soft, gentle mechanical digits tracing a path over their replacement arm.

“This arm is not a mere replacement, dear. It is so much more than that. It is your arm, an upgrade to the frail and unsure form you currently have.”

Sky felt a sting as each word penetrated deep into their psyche, the unit sitting opposite from them more perceptive than it ever let on if it could echo Sky’s own insecurities back at them like this.

“But with this,” it gently shook the s̵c̵r̵a̵p̵ arm, shaking Skylar’s focus once again, “you will never be frail or unsure again. The strength of your new arm driving you to improve yourself, to keep bettering and building yourself up.”

Skylar’s head was swimming with so many thoughts, some their own, some given to them by not only 717 but the helmet and the f̵a̵k̵e̵ arm as well.

“And if,” the unit continued, twisting the arm over in it’s support so it was facing up, Sky’s body shifting to accommodate the movement, “you wish, you can take something away from here, away from this room, away from this building even.” 717 pointed two fingers before resting them on the arm just below the crook of the elbow. “All you have to, whenever you feel comfortable and are in a safe spot to do so, is trail your fingers like this,” 717 started, “so slow and gently down to your wrist. And as you do, you feel the sturdy steel beneath your fingers, how coarse it is, the strength lying beneath your surface. And as you reach your wrist,” the unit’s fingers stopped in place, “you will feel a bolt of reassurance spread from this point, and once you lift them, a wave of bliss and calm will follow.”

Skylar nodded along, weakly, unconsciously, but still taking the words and their many layered meanings into themself. They had faintly felt the feeling of reassurance a moment ago, a feeling somewhat alien to them truth be told, slowly but steadily resonating out from their wrist as the drone’s fingers waited in place.

With a jolt, RCT-717 lifted its fingers, and what followed Skylar could not believe. Their whole body almost shut down from how good they now felt, their s̵c̵r̵a̵p̵ true arm weighing on themself and that weight, instead of dragging them down, lifted them up emotionally. It was like 717 said, a wave of bliss and calm, washing over and hitting every spot in their body, no corner was left with any sorrow or stress any more.

“Now, good little subject, you have been so wonderful today, but let’s get to work bringing you up.”

— — —

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” DSR-357 asked, watching as RCT-717 carefully loaded Skylar’s sleeping body into the transporter, still drifting so deep under the surface of their consciousness.

“Of course,” RCT-717 responded flippantly, “it would be much better for them to wake-up fully in my office, somewhere closer to… comfort. Not to imply your workspace isn’t comfy.” 357 could only non-verbally huff in annoyance as it crossed their arms. “Oh by the way, which unit from Central requested the work for this? It will send the results of this experiment off and thank them for providing this wonderful bit of machinery.”

“This one believes it was HLR-589? Haven’t seen that prosign before.”

“Yeah, what did they say it stood for?”

“Handler…”