Rabid

Xavier was hunting. After an hour’s striding through the streets, he too had discovered that wifi signals leaked through walls in a surprisingly large number of places. He paused a couple of times to orient himself without giving away his own position to anyone who might be lurking in the digital highways. At least one of his fellow clones had not been quite so careful. There were several traces of Brontë’s interactions and he managed to fix her position quickly. He was surprised at the speed she was moving though, much faster than he could manage. How was she doing that?

‘Your muscles have been optimised to deliver superb replacements for our customers,’ Jean-Claude had told him, months ago. ‘Your diet provides the ideal mix of carbohydrates, protein and omega-3 healthy fats. That, and the daily electrical myostimulation you receive means your muscle mass will increase faster and more effectively than those of the human limbs you are designed to replace. They will have far superior stamina and speed potential.’ He had shaken his head sadly as he spoke, thinking of what might have been for these young bodies in his charge. His palpable excitement later, when he realised that several of them had become sentient had fuelled his rabid attempts to free them for a life outside the facility. He had worked tirelessly to prepare them. He’d done a good job, Xavier reflected. It was a pity he’d had to silence him.