Study Analyze Reprogram
Duis Studium Reprogram
In a world where Borg are the Mount Everett of Thinking Machines. And thus, prohibitively expensive to use for those troublesome insurgencies plaguing your third-world regime.
The relatively cheap, disposable SAR [study analyze reprogram] is the Predator meets Terminator solution for your battlefield needs.
An example of throwaway military-purposed androids, based upon the Borg and thus epitomizing the no-holds-barred style of combat. They are the automated replacement of choice for biological soldiers when plausible deniability is first and foremost, and your defense budget is tight.
No politicians wringing their hands over the adverse opinion of your country’s ruler when a military op they’ve Okayed goes south or too deadly or too expensive.
So. If mass destruction at a low cost is your goal, and genocide is your desired result. In other words, when it’s “take no prisoners”, but I’m on the cheap and I can’t spend a lot. These killing machines, pinnacle users of adaptive learning, will destroy every living person and thing onsite, and you won’t break the bank.
Kill Command’s SAR. It’s a win-win for everybody … except for your enemy. So, get yours, before the other guys do.
With the second team firmly in place. Just before Number Seven is to leave, the Borg Queen returns. They will be staying, after all. The Borg Queen doesn’t explain why. And Number Seven doesn’t ask. They’re assigned quarters which they assimilate into a proper Queen’s chambers; therefore, it contains a Queen’s central alcove and a drone alcove for Number Seven. Number Seven stays a Queen, but she goes back to dressing like a drone, and the rest of Number Seven’s stuff gets sent back to whence it came.
As the Queen’s Avatar, Number Seven’s designation is Seven-of-One. Formally, Seven-of-One, The Proxy of Unimatrix Zero One. As previously noted, the Borg Queen’s designation is Number One. Colloquially, One-of-One. Formally, Borg Queen One. Classification: The First Borg.
An uneventful week passes …
An oblivious Number Seven is plugged into her alcove, and jacked into the Hive Mind. Additionally, her mouth is open slackly, drooling. Her ad hoc ensemble has gelled into a fully-optioned, formal template: Alice Seven, which is a fashion homage to Alice Quinn and Number Seven. She’s wearing her thinz, perls, Parts, hand-bra, prudz, tights, and boots. Her bikini top and bottoms, skirt, and blazer flank her alcove in FSFF mode—uniform blazer and skirt on one side, and bikini top and bottoms on the other. She only wears them when she leaves her Queen’s chambers.
Bikini top and hand-bra are mutually exclusive. If she wears one, she doesn’t wear the other.
Bikini bottoms and Parts are mutually exclusive. She only wears one underneath her tights. Implied [false] modesty for the bikini bottoms and implied immodesty for Parts?
Robotic. Monotone in manner and speech. Borderline sexless. Refers to herself in the third-person as if she’s suffering from dissociative identity disorder (DID), also known as multiple personality disorder (MPD), colloquially known as split personality.
Number Seven’s EXO-clad Queen is kneeling before her, face first in her crotch. The Borg Queen is performing oral sex on the robotgirl’s engorged members. Deep throat. Sucking cock and balls, fingering those testicles, and eating snatch, all executed with such facility, it’s as if Number Seven isn’t wearing tights. The robotgirl’s fishnet hosiery doesn’t impede the Queen’s spirited libation, one little bit.
Not waiting for this mess to be cleaned up. And, as the Queen predicted. In the short time that she and the robotgirl have been looping, Number Seven’s face already shows the adverse effects of hardcore addiction. Though still pretty, Number Seven’s face is much harder looking, and thus more to the Queen’s liking. Still a face that will stop traffic, though.
Also, per the Borg Queen’s tastes, Number Seven sports a krazed in her Queen’s chambers as if she were an Itt, and strait hair when she’s outside of her Queen’s chambers.
Number One is contemplating a next push for the robotgirl’s template: having Number Seven wear thick-readers in her chambers and thinz outside of her chambers. That would be the bee’s knees for Number One. Because, disfiguring thick-readers would ensure that the robotgirl no longer had those traffic-stopping looks.
As Number Seven, doing this template. More than just a whiff of craving Coyote Ugly. An obsession-compulsion. Number Seven reeks of suffering from that particularly-nasty, convoluted flavor of BDD. She sees her entire appearance as being flawed. And it gets worse. Her memories are extensively rewritten so that she only remembers herself as always being Coyote ugly—i.e., pretty girls can do anything, but ugly girls have to do everything. Leaving her blind and amnesiatic to her own beauty. For all intents and purposes, she is ugly. Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly is to the bone.
Number One has other, even more insidious plans for the future firmware updates for this Borg drone template which the robotgirl is doing. Plans that will turn Number Seven doing this template into the ultimate submissive—i.e., the perfect drone. Number One’s so lost in contemplation and depravity that she fails to notice that they’re being watched. Not hidden CCTV. Not remote viewing. Something else. A presence.