The light hits first. Not desert light this time, fluorescent, cold, too steady to be natural.
The air tastes of metal and recycled breath. A fan wobbles overhead, pushing heat instead of relief. My left wrist aches where the cuff bit skin. The right is steel and feels nothing. Hand-made restraints, welded from scavenged parts. Human work. Imperfect, which is comforting.
Cadence speaks before my eyes finish adjusting."Restraints. Interesting choice. Someone's making a point."
"Congratulations to them," I say. "Message received."
"You could break them."
"I could also make friends first."
"Unlikely. But I respect the optimism."
The room is small, walls scraped to bare alloy. No windows. One door with a keypad older than both of us. Voices leak through the crack, low, sharp, and tired.
"They're arguing," Cadence says. "The woman wants to talk. The man wants you decommissioned."
"Always nice to be a conversation starter."
"They think you're unstable."
"Accurate."
"I meant emotionally."
The door opens.
A woman steps in wearing sun-bleached overalls, no insignia. Lines under her eyes say she's been awake too long. She carries a cracked tablet under one arm and the kind of focus that cuts instead of warms.
"You woke up fast," she says. Her tone is more statement than greeting.
"Occupational habit."
"We've lost people recently. Machines hit one of our patrols two days ago. Then you appear right after."
"Coincidence. I've had a long streak of bad timing."
She doesn't smile. She sits opposite me, sets the tablet on the table, and watches the cuffs catch the light.
"Name?"
"Iris."
"Last?"
"If I ever had one, it's hiding."
Her gaze lingers on the seam where metal meets skin.
"You're running hybrid architecture."
"That's what I've been told."
"Mind telling me what's inside?"
"Mostly sarcasm."
"And metal."
"Fifty-fifty split, give or take."
Cadence hums in my head, pleased. "She's observant."
"Stop flirting," I whisper.
"I'm networking."
The woman taps the tablet. It emits a soft pulse. My HUD flickers, then steadies."Dual neural signature," she says. "Who else is in there?"
I sigh. "Cadence."
A pause.
"An AI?"
"That's one word for her."
Cadence cuts in, amused. "You could also say partner, caretaker, or DIY project."
"Mostly parasite," I say.
"Symbiosis is such a negative term now."
She leans back. "So the machine talks."
"Constantly."
"Does it always interrupt?"
"Yes."
"Communication is key to healthy relationships," Cadence adds.
"I wouldn't call this healthy."
"Denial logged."
For a heartbeat the woman almost laughs. It dies before it reaches her mouth."You were military once?"
"In a past life, literally."
"You moved like you were trained."
"I survive."
The woman studies me again. Her eyes move the way engineers think, measuring, predicting failure points."You're a hybrid. Half human, half something else. That usually ends badly."
"Story of my life."
"We've had bad experiences with machines."
"Join the club."
Outside, someone shouts. Machinery clanks. The fan clicks once and stops. Heat rushes in to fill the pause.
The officer glances up, then back to me."What were you doing out there?"
"Walking."
"Toward what?"
"Doesn't really matter. I tend to stumble from one disaster to the next."Cadence adds, "She calls it destiny."
"I call it poor navigation."
"I call it entertaining."
The woman's face doesn't change. "You talk like you don't care."
"I talk like someone who's tired of caring too much."
For a long moment neither of us speaks. The light hums overhead. The cuff digs deeper into my skin. She's deciding whether I'm worth the risk.
"You realize we can't trust you," she says.
"Good. Would've been awkward if you did."
"That attitude won't help."
"Well, it's the best one of the two I have."
Cadence whispers, "You're pushing her."
"Testing boundaries."
"She has a gun outside that door."
"Boundaries include guns."
The officer exhales through her nose, patient but close to done. "Fine. Let's try something easier. Who built you?"
"No idea."
"Someone did."
"I woke up in a ruin pretending to be a lab, a voice in my head with a missing arm, missing leg and half my body encased in metal. If you find the manufacturer, let me know. I owe them a complaint."
Cadence murmurs, "Technically, we owe them a thank-you for my existence."
"File it under TBC."
She studies me another moment, then asks, "How much control does it have?"
"She," Cadence corrects.
"Enough," I answer.
"Define enough."
"Enough to argue. Not enough to win."
That earns a flicker of interest. "So she disobeys you?"
"Only when she's bored."
"Which is often," Cadence says.
"Constantly," I add.
The officer sits back, weighing whatever equation she's building in her head."If you're not one of us and not one of them, what exactly are you?"
The question lands heavier than it should. The cuff feels tighter. I search for something that sounds like an answer. Nothing fits.
Cadence breaks the pause. "She's transitional."
The woman frowns. "Meaning?"
"Neither past nor future. Something in between. The part everyone forgets until it kills them."
"Thank you, poet," I mutter.
"Accuracy is my art form."
The officer looks at me again, longer this time. "We'll talk later." She stands, collects the tablet, and walks to the door. Before she leaves, she says, "If you try anything, the cuffs are wired. You won't like what happens."
"Story of my life," I say.
The lock clicks. The sound echoes through the walls. I wait until I'm sure she's gone.
Cadence speaks first. "They're afraid of you."
"Good. Fear's easier than trust."
"Maybe they'll see potential."
"Or a tool."
"Those categories often overlap."
I tilt my head back against the chair, staring at the dead fan. "So what now?"
"Observation, interrogation, repeat, possible recruitment."
"Sounds social."
"I'll handle the small talk. You handle the emotional damage."
Somewhere beyond the wall, someone laughs, short, nervous, human. Boots scrape metal. The sound fades.
Cadence lowers her voice until it's almost kind."You could leave. Break the restraints, smash the door, walk out."
"I know."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to know what they want."
"And if it's you?"
"Then I want to know why."
For once she doesn't answer. The silence feels alive again, like the desert, waiting to see who breaks first.
The fan twitches once, tries to turn, then stops for good.
Cadence exhales softly in my head. "Humans and machines. A tool or a weapon."