Chapter 3—Amaya

DESPITE THE EARLY-MORNING coaching with Dr. Vex, now that it was time to present her report, Amaya stood stiffly in front of the holographic display, her throat dry and her fingers hovering awkwardly over her datapad. The room was filled with senior techs, engineers, and a few military officials, all watching her with varying degrees of expectation. Xavier was there too, having been appointed to the task force at Dr. Vex's request, due to him having the latest neuronal models in his circuitry. He was currently the most advanced cyborg in the facility.

Dr. Vex had prepared her for this, but now, under the weight of their eyes, her carefully rehearsed words seemed to evaporate. It was like this every time she tried to speak, especially to a gathering. "So... um, the malfunctions are... happening because..." She cleared her throat, trying to keep the words from tangling somewhere between her brain and her mouth. Her datapad blinked at her impatiently, the data waiting for her to explain it, but her mind was scrambling to catch up.

"Because of what?" prompted one of the military officers, his impatience barely masked.

Amaya fumbled, scrolling through the data on her pad, desperate for the explanation she knew was there but was suddenly elusive. "It's the neural pathways. They're... misfiring? No—uh, sorry—they're sending... wrong signals... due to pressure... and, um, feedback loops."

Her explanation faltered. The blank stares from the group did nothing to help. Dr. Vex stood off to the side, concern etched across her features but offering no interruption. This was Amaya's time to present, and no one would rescue her from it.

One of the lead techs, an older man with graying temples, raised a hand. "Feedback loops? Can you be more specific? What kind of pressure? And which signals are misfiring?"

Amaya's mind raced. "Well... the... neural relays are... fragile, and when they encounter, uh, disruptions... they sort of, um, send signals back and forth... instead of..." She was sinking. "Instead of stabilizing. And that causes..."

Dr. Vex winced. Even Xavier's expression showed some confusion.

Someone at the back of the room muttered, "This isn't making any sense."

Amaya's face flushed. She pressed a button on her datapad, bringing up an image of the neural relays, but instead of clarifying her point, the complex web of connections only seemed to confuse the room more. The diagrams were detailed—overly detailed—without a clear breakdown to simplify the problem for her audience.

One of the engineers crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "You're saying the problem is with the neural pathways, but you haven't explained how or why it's happening. Are you suggesting it's a design flaw?"

"No. Not... exactly." She stumbled again. "I mean, the relays—there's a problem with the way they interact with the sensory network. It's, uh...causing confusion in the cyborg's system."

"What confusion? Specific examples?"

She blinked rapidly, trying to suppress tears. "Like...it could perceive cold when it's actually hot. Or, um, maybe—maybe it's feeling a sensation it shouldn't be... uh...feeling at all?"

Silence settled over the room. Even the air systems seemed to hum louder than usual.

One of the officers, the same man who had impatiently prompted her earlier, sighed audibly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not following any of this."

Her throat constricted, and her hands trembled when she attempted to recalibrate her thoughts. Dr. Vex stepped forward with a kind smile. "Perhaps we can discuss this further after a break," she said, her tone gentle.

Amaya nodded mutely, feeling the weight of failure heavy on her chest. As the meeting broke, and the others began to chat amongst themselves, she caught snippets of their confusion.

"What was she trying to say?"

"I have no idea."

"Maybe she's just not cut out for this."

Amaya slumped into the nearest chair, cheeks burning. She wanted to disappear, to rewind the last thirty minutes and erase the garbled mess she'd made of her presentation. Instead, she pulled her datapad close, staring at the data with a sinking heart. She had the information—she knew she did—but translating it into something understandable seemed like an impossible task.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON , Amaya stood in the sterile lab staring at the holographic display of cyborg schematics floating before her, thinking about how disastrous the meeting had been even with Dr. Vex helping her prepare. She'd ended up garbling everything and leaving all the techs and her superiors more confused. Dr. Vex had kindly suggested she refine the presentation and try again tomorrow. The meeting had continued while Amaya sat quietly in the corner, burning with humiliation.

Only focusing on work helped her move past it, and she'd fled to her workroom after the meeting, having been there ever since. She touched the holographic interface, manipulating the intricate web of neural pathways and cybernetic components as she tried to discern the cause of the malfunctions. While zooming in on a particular junction, a frown creased her brow. Something wasn't right. "Computer, run a diagnostic on neural pathway 7-B-4-2."

The system complied, and numbers and graphs flashed across the screen. She watched it appear, absorbing the data. Her frown deepened. "Increase magnification by two hundred percent."

The image zoomed in even more, revealing microscopic fissures in the neural relays. Amaya's pulse jumped. This could be the source of the malfunction.

She turned to her datapad as she typed out her findings, but when she read over her report, her excitement faded. The technical jargon was clunky and impenetrable. How could she explain this to her superiors in a way they'd understand? Dr. Vex and the other researchers would likely grasp it, but the administrators didn't necessarily have a strong scientific background.

Amaya sighed. She needed to make this clear. Lives depended on it.

The lab door hissed open, and Xavier's imposing form filled the doorway. His mismatched eyes—one organic, one cybernetic—fixed on Amaya. "Good afternoon, Technician Kaffey."

She smiled but trembled inside, recalling how he'd impassively listened to her report earlier, looking as confused as everyone else—and that was with the accelerated processing power his new cyborg brain gave him. "Please, call me Amaya."

He inclined his head. "I have come to see if I can be of assistance to help clarify what you were trying to relay earlier. Dr. Vex told me I'd find you here working on malfunctions. Any progress?" he asked, his voice almost booming in the small space.

She swallowed hard, unexpectedly affected in a physical way—not fear—by his deep baritone. "Yes, I think I've found something. There are micro-fissures in the neural relays that could be causing feedback loops in the cyborg's sensory input."

Xavier's brow creased. "Explain."

Amaya took a deep breath. "It's like...imagine if your nerves were sending conflicting signals to your brain. You might feel hot and cold at the same time, or see things that aren't there."

"And this is happening to the malfunctioning cyborgs during the cyber-conversion?"

"I believe so, but I need to run more tests to be sure."

He slowly nodded. "How do we fix it?"

She hesitated. This was the part she dreaded. How could she explain the complex procedure she had in mind? "We need to recalibrate the neural pathways. It's a delicate process. We'll have to shut down certain systems temporarily and..."

She trailed off, noting the confusion in Xavier's expression. Frustration bubbled up inside her. Why couldn't she make him understand? "It's complicated," she finished lamely.

Xavier's cybernetic eye glowed slightly brighter. "I see. Perhaps you could prepare a more detailed report for the team briefing tomorrow?"

She nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and renewed dread as she imagined the meeting again. "Of course. I'll have it ready."

As he turned to leave, she called out, "Wait."

He paused, looking back at her.

"I... I'm sorry. I'm not explaining this well. It's just, there's so much at stake, and I want to get it right."

His expression softened slightly. "I understand. This is important work. Take your time to find the right words. We're counting on you."

With that, he left, the door sliding shut behind him.

She slumped into her chair, burying her face in her hands. She had to do better. She had to find a way to communicate her findings clearly. She looked up at the holographic display, inhaling sharply. She would solve this puzzle, and she would find a way to make everyone understand. Lives depended on it.

Pulling her datapad close, she began to type, searching for simpler analogies and clearer explanations. She worked for hours, completely focused. As the facility's night cycle began, Amaya finally leaned back, stretching her tired muscles. She looked over her report with a small smile. It wasn't perfect, but it was better. Clearer.

Tomorrow, she would face her superiors and Xavier once more. This time, she would make them understand. She had to.

She saved her work and stood, her legs protesting after hours of sitting. As she made her way to her quarters, her mind spun with possibilities. What if this discovery led to a breakthrough in cyborg technology? What if she could prevent future malfunctions?

She was on the verge of something big. She just had to find the right words to share it with the world. In her small room, she collapsed onto her bed, lethargy finally catching up with her. As she drifted off to sleep, images of neural pathways and cybernetic components danced behind her eyelids. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new chance to prove herself.

AMAYA'S brEATH QUICKENED as she stepped into the briefing room the next day, experiencing a wave of dizziness prompted from déjà vu, tightly clutching her datapad. Dr. Vex had arranged for this second meeting, urging her to clarify her earlier jumbled explanations. The room was just as stark as yesterday, with cold steel walls and a semi-circle of chairs arranged around a large holographic screen. Her superiors were already gathered, watching and waiting.

Her gaze sought out Xavier, who watched impassively. Suddenly, he gave her a small smile, and her heart skittered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and felt more composed.

Dr. Vex gave her a nod from her place at the far end of the table, a small, encouraging smile that helped steady Amaya's nerves. She cleared her throat and tapped a button on her pad, causing the holographic schematics of a malfunctioning cyborg to materialize above the table, flickering with digital precision.

"Yesterday, I tried to explain—" Her voice cracked, and immediately, heat rose in her cheeks. She took a deep breath. "Sorry. Yesterday, I, uh, struggled to explain my hypothesis. Today, I'd like to be clearer."

She quickly realized how many eyes were on her, and her chest tightened. "The, uh... the neural feedback loops..." Her words stumbled out awkwardly. She winced but forced herself to continue. "I believe the micro-fissures in the neural relays are creating inconsistent signals. Think of it like...like a speaker that's crackling because the wiring is frayed."

Her audience seemed more attentive now. She allowed herself a breath, encouraged.

"So, um...imagine a cyborg's brain, trying to process conflicting information. Hot and cold sensations at once or visual distortions." She noticed some nods. "That's what's happening to the malfunctioning cyborgs."

She tapped her pad again, zooming in on the web of neural relays. "Here." She pointed. "This particular junction is where the fissures tend to appear. They're microscopic, barely noticeable in a surface diagnostic, which is why we missed them before."

Her hands were shaking, but the words were flowing now, and she was gaining momentum. She caught Dr. Vex's approving nod. "These fissures cause a cascading effect, sending errant signals to the sensory network, which leads to the malfunctions we've been seeing. If we recalibrate the neural pathways and close these fissures, we can stop the malfunction before it becomes critical."

A pause stretched through the room as her superiors digested the information. Amaya's stomach churned with uncertainty. Had she been clear enough? Did they understand?

One of the engineers leaned forward, his brow uneven. "So, you're suggesting the malfunctions are due to...wear and tear on the neural relays? How do we prevent them?"

Amaya exhaled, the question giving her a clear path forward. "Yes, exactly. The solution would be a recalibration of the entire system. A shutdown of non-essential processes to allow the neural connections to heal...and to prevent it, we'll need to reinforce the pathways—perhaps even implement a quantum stabilizer to minimize future stress on the relays."

The murmur of conversation rippled through the room, but this time, Amaya didn't feel as though it was negative. They were talking about her ideas and considering them because they understood them this time.

"And this feedback loop?" asked Xavier from his seat near the center.

Amaya inhaled and exhaled before answering, not wanting to fumble again. "It's an anomaly in the sensory input. When the fissures develop, it causes signals to cross in unpredictable ways. If the neural network gets overloaded, the cyborg might interpret a harmless sensation as a threat, or..." She glanced at Xavier's cybernetic eye, "...might fail to perceive danger altogether. It's as...as though the system misfires, sending scrambled data back to the brain."

Xavier's brow furrowed, but this time, his expression seemed more thoughtful than confused. "Can this be fixed, and how quickly?"

Amaya's pulse quickened. "Yes, I believe it can. We'll need to isolate the affected pathways and shut down certain systems temporarily. It's delicate work but manageable." For a moment, silence filled the room, making her sweat under the intensity of the scrutiny pressing down on her.

One of the tech supervisors leaned forward. "This makes sense. I'd like to see the full details in a report by the end of the day."

Amaya blinked in surprise, then nodded. "Yes, of course." She tapped a button. "I've already prepared that for all of you, and you should receive the reports right about...now." A chorus of beeps sounded from the datapads around her, eliciting a pleased murmur and a few nods.

Another supervisor asked, "If we start today, how long will recalibration take?"

She stood straighter, feeling confident now. "Two days, or maybe three. We'll need to run tests on the simulations first, but we should have a clearer answer soon."

There were more nods of approval around the table. Dr. Vex smiled at her, her expression a quiet affirmation of her success.

As the meeting broke up and people filtered out, she exhaled deeply. Her legs felt weak with the release of tension, but a sense of accomplishment surged through her. She had done it. This time, she had made them understand.

Dr. Vex approached, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Well done, Amaya. You were clear, concise, and persuasive."

Amaya smiled. "I—I think they got it this time."

"They did. So, let's get to work."

She nodded, her fingers already twitching in anticipation of returning to the lab. There was still so much more to do, but for the first time in days, she was sure the rest of the team understood the problem—or her theory anyway—and was reassured they could identify the cause for the microfractures and find a solution.

HOURS LATER, AND EYES burning, she stared at the holographic display as she analyzed the data for the fifth time. The numbers didn't lie, but they told a story she was reluctant to believe. She exhaled slowly. "This can't be right," she muttered to herself.

The lab door hissed open, and Dr. Zara Vex strode in. "Any progress, Amaya?"

Amaya turned reluctantly, not wanting to verbalize what she suspected. "I think so, but... It's not what we expected."

Dr. Vex raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She gestured to the display. "Look at these error patterns. They're too consistent, too...deliberate."

Dr. Vex leaned in with a scowl to look closer at the display. "What are you suggesting?"

"I think..." She paused when the words stuck in her throat. "I think someone might be sabotaging the cyborgs."

Her mentor straightened, looking shocked. "That's a serious accusation. Do you have proof?"

She shook her head. "Not concrete proof yet, but look at these patterns. The malfunctions always occur in the same sequence, affecting the same systems. It's too perfect to be random."

The doctor crossed her arms. "It could be a flaw in the design. A cascading failure."

"I considered that," said Amaya, "But I've run simulations. Even with a cascading failure, there should be more variation. This is like someone's following a script."

Dr. Vex frowned. "We can't make accusations without solid evidence. The implications could be catastrophic."

She nodded in frustration. "I know. That's why I need more time to investigate. Can you authorize additional access to the cyborgs' neural interfaces?"

Dr. Vex hesitated. "That's highly restricted data, Amaya. I'd need to consult with the board."

"Please," said Amaya, her voice urgent. "If I'm right, we could be facing a serious security breach. If I'm wrong, at least we'll know for sure."

Dr. Vex sighed. "I'll see what I can do, but keep this to yourself for now. We can't afford panic or rumors." She hesitated. "I can allow you access to Xavier in the interim. He can help in whatever way you both deem acceptable."

As Dr. Vex left, she turned back to her work and pulled up another set of data, diving deeper into the cyborgs' neural pathways. Hours passed, and her eyes burned even more from staring at the screens. She rubbed them, blinking to refocus. That's when she saw a tiny anomaly in the code that was barely noticeable unless one knew exactly where to look or stumbled across it.

Her pulse accelerated as she zoomed in. It was a backdoor, cleverly disguised as a routine maintenance subroutine, but its function was anything but routine. "Gotcha," she whispered.

The lab door opened again, and Xavier entered. His mismatched gaze scanned the room before settling on Amaya. "Good evening, Amaya," he said, his deep voice resonating in the small space. "Dr. Vex said you had concerns about the malfunctions and assigned me to work with you."

Amaya swallowed hard. This was her chance to convince someone else of the sabotage, but the words jumbled in her mind. "Yes, I... I've found something. It's not conclusive, but..."

Xavier stepped closer, his cybernetic eye glowing brightly. "Show me."

She pulled up the code on the main display. "See this? It looks like a normal maintenance routine, but it's not. It's a backdoor, allowing remote access to the cyborgs' neural network."

He frowned. "That shouldn't be possible. Our security protocols—"

"Are being bypassed." She nodded for emphasis. "Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. They hid it so well, I almost missed it myself."

He was silent for a long moment, his organic eye narrowing as he studied the code. "If this is true, the implications are...significant."

She nodded. "That's why I need help. We need to track down who's using this backdoor and why."

He turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You understand the gravity of what you're suggesting? If word of this gets out before we have proof..."

"We can't ignore it. People could be in danger."

He slowly nodded. "Very well. What do you need?"

Amaya's shoulders sagged with relief. "Access to the facility's network logs, and...maybe some help going through them? It's a lot of data."

"I'll assist you, but we must be discreet. If there is a saboteur, we can't alert them to our suspicions."

Amaya nodded, flashing him a small smile. "Thank you. I... I was starting to think I was going crazy."

His expression softened slightly. "You are many things, Dr. Kaffey, but crazy is not one of them."

"Amaya," she said softly to remind him. She'd worked hard for her doctorate, but she preferred hearing her given name on his lips for some reason.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement before turning to the console before them. They worked through the night, sifting through mountains of data. Her back ached from hunching over the console, but she refused to stop. Every line of code could be the key to unraveling this mystery.

As the facility's day cycle began, she sat back, stretching her tired muscles. She looked over at Xavier, who appeared as focused as ever.

"How are you not exhausted?" she asked.

Xavier glanced at her. "Cyborg enhancements. I don't require as much rest as a full human."

Amaya nodded, a jolt of envy coursing through her. "Right. Must be nice."

"It has its advantages...and its drawbacks."

Before she could ask what he meant, an alert flashed on her screen. Her heart thumped as she leaned forward, scanning the data. "Xavier, I think I found something."

He moved to her side. "What is it?"

She pointed to a series of network connections. "These access patterns. They match the backdoor's signature. Someone's been using it, and recently."

Xavier's organic eye widened slightly. "Can you trace it?"

She tapped the keyboard. "I'm trying, but they're good. They're bouncing the signal all over the facility's network."

Xavier placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep trying. We need to know who's behind this."

Amaya nodded, her focus narrowing to the task at hand. She followed the digital trail, unraveling the complex web of misdirections and false leads.

Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. Amaya gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"What is it?" asked Xavier, his voice urgent.

Amaya turned to him, her face pale. "The signal is coming from inside the facility. Someone here is sabotaging the cyborgs."

Xavier's expression hardened. "We need to inform Dr. Vex immediately."

As they hurried from the lab, her thoughts were jumbled. They had proof now, but would it be enough? And more importantly, who among them could be trusted?