Free The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice by T C Southwell Page A

hard to control feelings. But at the
same time, when you see Tassin again, you'll feel happiness so much
more now, too."
    He lunged
towards her, smashing his fists down on the floor beside her with a
terrific bang that made her gasp and jump. "Get out!"
    Estrelle fought
the urge to flee, rubbing her ringing ears. "No. You will see her
again. You've got to believe that."
    He drew back
like a coiling snake, shaking his head. "I thought I knew what
happiness was, but no... I know what sorrow is now, though, don't
I?"
    "Yeah, you're
having a hard time of it. This should have happened to you when you
were happy. It would have been so much easier. You're learning
about feelings when the worst ones are at their strongest."
    "Now you're
just stating the obvious."
    "Okay, how
about this? You're a gentle man. You don't like violence, but now
you find yourself driven to it by all these pent-up emotions, and
you don't like it."
    He inclined his
head. "Again, tell me something I don't know."
    "Breaking
things is satisfying, in your current mood, and you're very good at
it, aren't you? Is there perhaps a little bit of arrogance in there
too? No one can tell you what to do, right? You'll just smash their
head in. How does that make you feel?"
    "Like a
freak."
    "Right. Well
you are a freak, I'm afraid. You were designed to be the best
fighting machine ever, and that's what you are. Except you're not a
machine anymore. This is what Myon Two always feared; a free cyber
with all your abilities, and the emotions of a man, ready to turn
your skills on others. But you haven't killed anyone yet, and I
don't think you will."
    He raised his
head, his eyes piercing. "I'm touched by your faith in me."
    She eyed him.
"Now you're being sarcastic. You're angry because I doubt your
ability to kill someone."
    "Keep pushing,
see what happens."
    "You're not a
killer, Sabre. I might get hurt if I touched you now, but you'd
never kill me, or anyone else, unless they tried to kill you first.
It's not part of your nature. Neither is cruelty. Shall I tell you
why?"
    "Please
do."
    "The very same
reason you're so angry right now. You have feelings. Psychopaths
are incapable of proper emotional responses, so are sociopaths.
They feel no remorse, no pity, but you do, don't you? If you hurt
me, even in a fit of rage, or a reflex action, you'd be sorry, like
you were one Eden Five. Although I'd say that your feelings of
remorse then weren't very strong. You're chained by your feelings,
unable to lash out because of them, but others, just as strong,
make you want to lash out. You're conflicted."
    Sabre tilted
his head, lowering his eyes to the floor, then keeled over onto his
back and stared at the ceiling. "And this is what it's like to be
human?"
    "Yeah."
Estrelle's eyes stung with tears of relief. "Does it help?"
    "Not
really."
    She giggled,
shaking her head. "You're not psychotic. You're a normal human
being, full of conflicts, but capable of coming to terms with
them."
    He rubbed his
eyes and sighed. "It's still shitty."
    Estrelle moved
closer, sensing that the danger was past. He sat up and turned to
her, holding out a hand. She placed hers in it, and he studied
it.
    "I want to say
that you're brave, but you're not. You have all the bloody answers,
and if you hadn't been sure I wouldn't hurt you, you wouldn't have
come anywhere near me. You didn't risk touching me when I warned
you not to, either. But Tassin... she took some huge risks, not
knowing how I'd react, even though I would never have hurt her. But
she didn't know that. She's brave."
    "She's in love
with you."
    He nodded.
"Yeah."
    "Do you feel
better now?"
    "Calmer. I've
stuffed all that shit into as many dark corners as I can find. This
helped."
    "What, the
talk, or the tantrum?"
    He smiled.
"Both."
    Releasing her
hand, he stood up in a smooth motion and strode out of the door,
leaving her staring after him.
    At the
hospital, Thestan waited with Martis, who was bent over an
analyser, adjusting it. The