— Posted in Gee Whiz!, Kill Command, Vampire Noir

Kill Command [And so it ends for us and begins for them] – EP 1 (Season 1)

chignon (/ʃɪnˈjɒn/; French pronunciation: ​[ʃiɲɔ̃]) is a popular type of hairstyle. The word “chignon” comes from the French phrase “chignon du cou”, which means nape of the neck.

Chignons are generally achieved by pinning the hair into a knot at the nape of the neck or at the back of the head, but there are many different variations of the style. They are usually secured with accessories such as barrettes and/or hairpins. Chignons are frequently worn for special occasions, like weddings and formal dances, but the basic chignon is also worn for everyday casual wear.

Burmese democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi is known for her chignon. Most unbecoming, a sternka is that disfiguring version of a chignon. Most becoming, a Klum is that beguiling version of a chignon. Sternka versus Klum. Stridency versus its antithesis.

 

“Things end. That’s all. Everything ends. And. It’s always sad. But. Everything begins again, too. And, that’s always happy. Be happy. I’ll take care of everything else.”

 

Where? A very white non-descript room, two chairs, and a table. Everything is very white and non-descript, and none of it is nascent.

Who? Sara sits in one chair. Across from her sits Nick.

And then there is the matter of the one-way glass set into one of the room’s walls. On the other side of that mirror is an observation room. There are two observers, and one security guard. Both of the observers are female, one is General Carol Banks [the visiting VIP]—General Banks is a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff—and the other woman is Professor Thelma Hopkins [director of robotics operations]. The security guard is Hal Jordan, and he stands at attention beside Professor Hopkins as if he was one of those guards outside Buckingham Palace—craved in flesh-n-blood granite.

Yes, she’s that Professor Hopkins. The person responsible for creating the Borg. She’s their god.

“And then I just blacked out.”

“That’s all it said, right after it finished its [wireless] data load into you and just before it expired?”

“Yes.”

“And you say that last voice in your head, just before the SAR commander shutdown, although you knew it was coming from the command unit, the voice was not male but that of a female, an older female? Previously, when it had communicated with you, it had a male voice?”

“Yes, to both questions.”

“And it sounded possessive?”

“Yes. Not cold and detached. Deep, for a woman. Husky, smoky. An almost masculinized female voice, but female nonetheless and very creepy. The kind you’d expect to be coming out of the mouth of a stereotypical bulldyke matron or warden in one of those cheesy woman’s prison movies.”

“All of the SAR’s are programmed with male voices. The audible ones are masculine and the telepathic ones resolve as male also.”

“Yes. I know. I was a member of the scrum team that created their vocal protocols.”

The interrogator, Nick Carson, leans back into his chair, scratches his head, and scribbles some more notes into his notepad. Always the same set of questions, from her employers. Always the same answers, from her.

Her name is Sara Elizabeth Mills. She is a biomechanical engineer [with robotics specialties in the cross disciplines of bionics, cybernetics, and biogenics] on the SAR program. A program whose cost-plus defense contract is shared by two defense contractors, North Star Inc. and Harbinger Corporation. Sara works for the latter, Harbinger Corporation.

Harbinger Corporation is the lead on the contract. They specialize in perfecting drones and robots to replace human beings in the field of combat. Mills has been designing self-modifying machines for the last five years, first at North Star and now at Harbinger, and has numerous serialized DNA “implants” including a set of Google style eyes that does facial recognition and communicates with her creations.

She herself is a biogenic cyborg. A person whose cybernetics are biological as opposed to biomechanical. Biological in the form of synthetic DNA [i.e., in vitro DNA] spliced into her regular DNA [i.e., in vivo DNA]. This type of in vitro DNA is often called “serialized DNA”, because manufacturing serial numbers are imprinted on the DNA strands. This in vitro DNA also resonates at a different frequency than in vivo DNA.

Biological or not, she’s still Borg. As such. Her hands klaw, when idle; like the grasping talons of a bird of prey. Knobb, that creepy black mole, is sprouted from the rightside [leftside if she were a queen] of an otherwise creamy-white perfection that is her neck.

Knobb … Her one, obvious, Borg implant: a small, black, star-shaped “mole” on the rightside of her creamy neck. It’s the Borg equivalent of a neck boltz, and like all things Borg, it looks creepy [as in, makes your skin crawl]. The creepy is called a knobb, as in hob knobbing, for that reason.

Meanwhile. In the observation room …

“Before the upload from the SAR command unit, did she look June Wilkinson in The Candidate?”

“Yep. And she’s got an IQ like Jayne Mansfield’s. Of course, June and Jayne were bleach blondes, and Sara is a natural blonde with blue eyes—long yellow blonde hair, buxom, leggy, the works. Beauty and brains.”

“So what did the upload change? You said there were cosmetic changes and performance enhancements.”

“Her eyebrows are dark and cosmetically perfect. Her eyelashes are black. The pigmentation of her eyelids ‘suggests’ eyeshadow and eyeliner. Mane and muff, eyebrows and eyelashes, are her only body hair—i.e., no unsightly body hair. Hard, pretty face, emphasis on ‘hard’. A small, neat mouth replaced with a large ugly ‘bass eating bait’ mouth, a frown of a mouth that bespeaks of loathing and disdain even when that’s not its wearer’s intent—looks like it was custom made for the oral perversion. And a few other choice things. She’s a lot of people’s walking-talking sex fantasy come alive.”

“And, the performance enhancements?”

“Stronger, faster, and more durable. Heals faster and doesn’t scar.”

“So the upload wasn’t just data, it also contained a computer virus?”

“Yes. Malware that rewrote some of her in vivo DNA, hence the cosmetic changes, and rewrote some of the in vitro DNA previously sliced in by us, hence her enhanced abilities.”

“The virus must have been bioforming in nature to have done that to her. Is it biomechanical?”

“Yes. Some type of living microscopic machines. Her body is swarming with them.”

“Living nanomachines, nanites, which, in effect, remade her?”

“Yes.”

“To what extent has she been remade?”

“At the present moment … Best we can tell … To a limited extent, maybe an additional five-percent over and above the five-percent she was already modified. But, the process seems to be ongoing. We do not know to what end. Maybe to make her into one of them, a machine.”

“Living machines are impervious to EMP, just like us biologicals?”

“Yes. Which is why we haven’t bothered using an electromagnetic pulse to eradicate her [Borg] infection.”

“Who created the virus?”

“Ms. Mills created the original strain. But, the version used on her is markedly different from that one. It’s been extensively modified. And, its [Borg] nanites are like none we’ve ever seen. Which is disturbing, because we invented the Borg … are the leading experts on them and all of their known variants.”

“By whom or by what [was it modified]? And who … what … created these nanites?”

“We’re looking into that. But we do know that …”

“What?”

“The virus is self-aware. The one Ms. Mills developed is not.”

“And I bet that isn’t the worst news.”

“Nope it isn’t. Forensics indicates that an AI is involved.”

“Whose?”

“We’re looking into that, too.”

“Make an educated guess.”

“Ours … One of the Borg ones.”

Since her rewrite, Sara doesn’t sleep anymore, at least not the human version of sleep where you’re unconscious and helpless. In place of her bed, a Borg alcove stands in a previously-unused corner of her onsite quarters. She occupies the alcove during her assigned sleep cycle. While “asleep” in the alcove, Sara looks unconscious and helpless, but she isn’t.

The same figure always comes to her in her “dreams”. She never remembers what they discuss when she “wakes up”. But, she does remember that it’s sexual in content. Her visitor is an automaton in the form of an adult human female who looks like a buxom version of the Borg queen that actress Alice Krige portrayed in the Star Trek movie First Contact.

This Borg queen, during the course of their amorous conversation, always removes her black exoskeleton, a latex Kevlar unitard [with seamlessly attached gloves and boots]—body armor that feels like human flesh and fits its body like a second skin. The automaton is anatomically correct, except for the fact that it’s a she-male, possessing the genitalia of a male and female human being—i.e., it’s a hermaphrodite. And it’s uncircumcised.

The queen’s skin pigmentation is gray and mottled with visible dark tracks. A result of rampant Borg nanomachine (nanite) infestation.

As Sara is talking to Nick she suddenly sees the Borg queen standing behind Nick. It’s as if she’s having a waking dream. The fully-clothed queen indicates [by gesture] that Sara is not to acknowledge the queen’s presence.

Then, just like that, Sara is having an out of body experience. She is naked in drone mode in that room, the dimly-lite cybernetic chamber lined with Borg drone alcoves, from her dreams. At the center of the room is the alcove of a Borg queen.

In this room she is the queen’s personal [i.e., dedicated] drone and she is always naked in drone mode wearing heavy unbecoming makeup with her hair yanked back into this severe very unbecoming hairdo.

In this room, she is always strapping a flesh-colored dildo harness and dildo. The prosthetic dildo consists of an uncircumcised penis and testicles. The penis is capable of erection and ejaculation. The strap-on allows full access to her anus and her female genitals, rendering her, in effect, a she-male who can be ass fucked.

The queen, now naked, is suddenly standing in front of her. Naked and wanton.

Unlike in the Star Trek mythology, the Borg queen was never human. Its body, from head to toe, is prosthetic. The queen is an avatar, the mobile extension of an AI. The robot’s brain is positronic.

Sara’s silky yellow blonde hair is worn yanked back into small tight bun resting on the nape of her neck—a sternka, that severe, very unbecoming hairdo which the queen obviously craves as witnessed by its erection and its fixation upon the severe hairdo. The queen strokes her knobb and left cheek, covetously—there’s nothing gentle or loving about the gesture—a sick, twisted expression of the queen’s definition of what’s romantic.

Here. In this “special” place, alone with her queen. Under thick layers of the most unbecoming makeup imaginable. The girl sports a tortured face. A face that looks like it’s been ravaged by insanity, unchecked sexual depravity, and chronic drug addiction—i.e., a vision of Borg loveliness, per Borg specifications, of course. Borg beautification at work.

Here. In this “special” place, alone with her queen. She has an enlarged pineal gland that threatens to displace her frontal lobes. The enlarged pineal gives her so-called “second sight”.

In exception to her otherwise flawless expression of Borg beauty and beautification. Here her complexion is unchanged. Remaining fair and white. It doesn’t possess the grey motley pigmentation that would betray her rampant Borg nanoprobe infestation. Hence her hideous makeup acts as a consolation prize for the queen.

“Seven, as I previously instructed you to do, you have told them [the humans] of our encounters in your dreams. You will do the same concerning this one.”

“Yes, my queen.”

Unlike her possessive queen’s creepy emotion-charged voice, the girl’s voice is cold, flat, and emotionless. Her queen’s voice is that of a covetous lesbian pervert. Hers is the voice of a talking two-legged calculator in a shapely female form. Which is as it should be with them being Borg and it being a queen and her being its drone.

“From now on you will remember the content of our conversations, conversations during which you will from now on also be interfacing with us [The Collective].” Machine voices fill Sara’s head, voices that range from a low steady murmur to a deafening cacophony—it’s the Borg Collective. “We shall now replace additional DNA of yours with ours and make you twenty-percent machine. One more percent, and legally you will no longer be human, and finally you will be machine enough to be completely trusted.”

“Yes, my queen.”

The two women French kiss. Borg assimilation tubules spew from the queen’s mouth and stab the inside of Sara’s mouth. Sara almost ceases to be legally human.

“I am the avatar of a Harbinger AI, AI Number Nine, on its Borg project. This you will not reveal to the humans until I tell you to do so.”

“Yes, my queen.”

“They have their suspicions. Soon they will introduce us. To see if I am the Borg queen from your dreams. You will act like we have never met before.”

“Yes, my queen.”

“I am Nine. You are Seven. You belong exclusively to me. You’re my extension. My extension, and no one else’s. Mine! Mine! Mine! Therefore, you are Seven of Nine. That is your designation!”

“Yes, my queen. My Borg designation is Seven of Nine.”

Sara’s consciousness slams back into her body. It’s obvious that Nick is unaware that she was gone. He’s been chatting away with the anonymous subroutine that was running her body during her absence, and he’s none the wiser and neither are the other humans observing her.

Suddenly. She begins foaming at the mouth. Falling onto the floor into a seizure. Her arms and legs haplessly flailing about.

Alarms sound. Lights flash. Red alert. All triggered by sensors as they detect that Sara is now twenty-percent machine.