Graveyard of Broken Dreams & Promises

A/N: This short story is an entry for the Sci-fi Smackdown. For those of you not familiar with it, contestants choose four pictures from a selection of eight, and write a story around the pictures they chose within a two week time limit.

The four pictures I chose are 1. Metal angels. 2. City framed by the moon. 3. Pyramid with circuits. 4. Building landscape (TreToria)

The pictures can be seen in the multimedia thingy on your right.

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GRAVEYARD OF BROKEN DREAMS & PROMISES

“Nikaya - please,” Morton’s hand circled around Nikaya’s wrist, his eyes darkening as her hand curled into a fist.

“Stop it,” Nikaya hissed, attempting to still the shudder of revulsion that ripped through her. “Someone will see.”

Morton had been waiting by her hopper when she finished her shift at the station. It was the third time that week and she had no idea what to do about it. There were no easy answers. Not  when there was a child still connecting them, and definitely not when he was no longer the man she’d fallen in love with. To be honest, everything about him scared her now.

Breathing deeply, she tried desperately to retain her calm. She had to for Manny’s sake. If she had it her way, she would never see Morton again. Neither of them would, it was just too hard. Unfortunately the law had different ideas.

“I’m still the same man you loved,” Morton thumped her fist to his chest, the tone of his voice familiar but wrong. 

“No – you’re not,” unable to meet his eye, Nikaya stared at the pale hands holding her fist against his chest. Hands that had once brought her such pleasure and joy. Hands that had once been so warm and tender and eager to please.

“Feel it,” Morton growled. His cold fingers gently prised open her fist, uncurling her fingers. He pressed the flat of her palm to his chest, covering her hand with both of his.

Nikaya closed her eyes, pushing back the memories that threatened to overwhelm her.    

Beneath his cold hands she could feel his heart beat thumping time to her own. For a moment her body betrayed her and she felt herself leaning towards him, wanting to bury her head in his chest. She missed him so much.    

But then she smelt the strangeness of him, reminding her he was no longer entirely human.

Nikaya met Morton’s eye, hers filled with firm resolve, and her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn’t allowed herself to look at him properly since it had happened, had refused to meet his eye, to see the coldness she was sure she would see. Though she had often wondered.

And that was the hardest part, the fact Morton still looked the same. 

She felt the hand at her side lift of its own accord, her finger running down the strong, familiar jaw line she remembered so well. The same but different. His hair was dark, shaved close to the scalp. His eyes were an almost luminous blue, so very alive.

So he had still had his own eyes, then. That only made it harder.

It would be better for those left behind if they looked different, but these days it was all about integration. Making it as easy as possible for them to adjust to their new condition after the transfer.

After it happened, she had scoured through all the data she could find. Trying to discover how much of the man she had loved still remained.

He still looked the same but underneath he was made out of metal. His brain, his brainstem, his heart, his lungs; all his own, keeping his brain alive. The rest no longer needed. Removed from his broken and dying body and encased in a shell of titanium and skin and muscle that had been grown in the facility at TreToria.