“At first, I felt a bit dizzy and a lot of unwanted information keeps coming to my mind, like the fact you’ve been married three times now,” he replied, in a scornfully tone, enjoying the man’s fluster.
“You’ll be able to control that with time, as well as all the improvements we’ve made to your body.”
“Like what?” he asked, frowning.
“Just some minor details you’ll discover in time.”
Jarcor nodded, not very pleased with the man’s answers. “When will I be able to go home?”
“I know you feel fine, right now, but I need you to stay a few more days, while we test all the improvements made to your body.”
“How long will that take?”
“We can’t tell for sure. We need to be certain you’re perfectly alright before we send you back to the battlefield. While you were unconscious, the Taucets landed on our planet. We need to get you back out there, to lead the other cyborgs and fight these aliens off our planet.”
“Other cyborgs? Are they ready for the battlefield? And why do you include me in that group?” Jarcor asked with suspicion oozing out of his tone, stiffening his body.
The man cleared his throat once more, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “After all the improvements we made to you, you have been redefined as a cyborg,” he explained.
“Meaning?” he asked in a threatening tone.
“You are now the property of the United Nations Political Organization.”
For a moment, Jarcor was so surprised, he couldn’t move. Had they turned him into a war machine? Who the hell permitted that?
“You had no permission to do that. All we discussed was healing my legs, nothing else,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“Did you honestly expect them to spend such expensive technology on you for free? I’m sure you’re not that naïve, Jarcor,” mocked Dr. Masterson.
Jarcor pursed his lips and frowned. He had never expected anything for free, but he sure as hell hadn't expected to have his life and his identity taken away from him. “I’m a human being…” he yelled, but he could see it was no use.
“Not anymore. It’s better for you to accept your new life and start acting as is expected of you. Otherwise, life will become very hard for you.” There was a definite warning in the man’s words and ignoring it wouldn’t be a smart move.
“So, now I’m your lab rat?” he asked, oozing scorn.
“If you’d like to think of yourself like that, I guess it’s a suitable description.”
Masterson nodded and left the room, returning only a few minutes later with the same men that had convinced him to allow them to play with his life. During the following hours, they interrogated him exhaustively and put him through a lot of tests, until they were satisfied.
“We’ll send you to the training camp tomorrow. We don’t have time to waste and we need all the help we can get to defeat the Taucets,” General Smithson told him. He had joined the group interrogating him a couple of hours ago.
“What if I refuse?” Jarcor asked with a very calm tone, considering all the rage boiling inside him.
“That’s no longer your prerogative. You have been programmed to follow orders,” General Smithson explained. “Even if you managed to circumvent those orders, you wouldn’t get far. We’ve installed tracking devices in you that will allow us to find you faster than you can blink.”
“How many men like me were fooled into this trap?”
The Doctor sighed, impatient. “You are the first one we’ve transformed, but depending on your results, I’m sure there will be many more,” the man replied in a cold tone. “Besides, we didn’t fool you. We saved you from a dreadful future. You should be on your brand-new knees thanking us,” he snarled at Jarcor.
“I’m afraid having my freedom and life taken away from me doesn’t make me very thankful,” Jarcor retorted.
“Nonsense. You had no life left,” the general insisted in a vain attempt to make Jarcor believe in his words.
Jarcor remained silent and the general finally gave up. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the training camp,” he said before he left Jarcor’s room.
The other men followed the general and Jarcor was left alone with Dr. Masterson.
“Do you think this is ethical? Fooling wounded men to accept false hope and then stealing their lives away from them?” he asked the man, his voice deadly.
“I’m not here to judge. I’m paid to do my job and that’s exactly what I do,” the man replied, not showing a hint of regret or shame, as if he couldn’t care less.
Jarcor shook his head and walked towards the window, silently inviting the other man to leave his room.