morgcna:
“It’s…not the money.” She had too many memories wrapped into the messy of wires. There was something quite painful about letting go of the wretched broken thing. Now, there was a hellhole that Morgana didn’t want to unpick. She exhaled slow, through her nose, as Zina started her work once more. This was familiar. This was safe. Zina wasn’t going to make a mess of this. It was hard to believe. Everyone was trying to earn a living. Even if it meant stepping over each-other. Morgana couldn’t count the times she’d been screwed over. But wasn’t that what the reapers were for. Protection. Family. Somewhere and someone to belong to. She thought of Jakov but, it wasn’t really as if they were close. He was admirable. There was an edge to him that no-one else had. After all, he was the chosen one. Morgana glanced at Zina. Her head was bowed. Attention honed into the wires. She liked these moments. When neither of them spoke and Morgana could observe. As if this was the most natural thing in the world.
Working on this for a few weeks. Why did that bring such great relief to Morgana? The weight she had been carrying about her shoulders lifted by the sheer knowledge of coming back for more. Maybe she didn’t want to leave. The comfortable silence of sitting in Zina’s warehouse as she busied herself with work, usually Morgana’s faulty limb but oft times Morgana brought in other work too. It was a ritual. Morgana’s divine worship and her communion. Every wire undone and metal sheath replaced another note of silent confession. She flexed her good arm, in the absence of her right it felt strong, safe, and at the very least it responded as it should. Organic limbs didn’t have the same woes as metal. It was too late to regrow an arm now, too expensive. Only the elite could afford to look natural.
“I won’t change my mind,” she said, slight twinge of a smile at her lips. With a hum she nodded. Of course Morgana had a pain-modulator. She blinked through a list of neural commands. Switched on the processor and leant back with gritted teeth. Hers was heavy, clunky, it made her feel like a rag doll with limbs that were disconnected to her. If she could flex freely a moment ago now it took concerted effort, her hand didn’t feel like her own. “Fine touch sensations?” Morgana’s smile escalated at the thought of fine touch. How she’d longed to have sensation back in that hand. It was functional. She could hold a glass, rev the engine of her bike, and more or less fight with it when it didn’t hiss at her. But touch? Morgana hadn’t had the pleasure of holding someone for a long time, but knowing she could brought a small heady thrill of its own.
“You’re looking awfully cheerful for someone that’s about to cause me a great deal of pain,” she teased. Morgana leant forwards to rest her elbow on her thighs. “Going to find me a wicked metal arm? Not sure I fancy the new models with their faux skin.” Despite her initial hesitation, Morgana couldn’t help but be excited for what was to come. It was hard not to be when Zina looked at her like that. “Just bill me like usual.” She pursed her lips, not sure whether to tell Zina about a certain delivery. It was going to end up here anyway, so she might as-well. “I managed to pick up a new synth, well not new new but you wouldn’t believe who it is. Zodiac that singer everyone was obsessed with.” It had been hard to go anywhere without hearing one of Zodiac’s songs blasted through cheap speakers. “Not the usual synth I know, but figured it might draw in crowds. Just might be…more difficult to modify. But I assumed you’d be up to the challenge.”
Zina watched as Morgana switched on the pain modulator, bringing a pair of tweezers up to a live wire to test that they were working. Sure enough, Morgana didn't even yelp. Zina had flicked down her eyepiece, ready to get back to work when she caught Morgana's growing smile at the thought of fine touch. "It's not 2020 anymore, Morgana, fine-touch sensation in augments is the norm." Zina snorted, biting down on her bottom lip. It was only when there was wiring as bad as this that fine touch was lost, or when the augment was put on an old stump instead of fresh.
With that said, Zina started getting to work on tearing out Morgana's old circuitry, tutting as she pulled out wires that went nowhere and trying to figure out how to streamline the process. Bolt by nut by screw Morgana's connection port fell to pieces, flesh exposed with each wrench or screwdriver Zina put to it. The whole construction was idiotic, metals with different expansion rates placed next to each other so when the temperature changed they would swell or shrink at different rates! It drove Zina crazy! She loved it! Morgana wasn't going to know what hit her.
"I love projects," Zina said sheepishly when Morgana pointed out her utter glee. "Especially ones I get to make my own. The pain is secondary." Zina nodded emphatically when Morgana asked for metal. "Faux skin is for squares. Why hide something that makes you unique?" If Zina had a limb torn off in some horrific, traumatic incident she reckoned she'd make her replacement the coolest limb ever. Then again, she was pretty lucky to not have lost a limb, and too paranoid about having to let someone else join her up to take the plunge and get one herself. "You send me more crazy fighters hyped up on credits wanting augments with no idea of the market value and I'll give you a discount."
Zina flipped up her eyepiece as Morgana let her into her little secret. "Zodiac!" Zina closed her eyes and flicked through to her trashy charts music playlist, let hits from Veles spill out from the speakers. "You're not going to make the fighter synths chew up his pretty face? Then again, I'd like to see how far I can hack into the Synthsphere coding..." Making a singer become a fighter would be some feat.












