Defying Death
The evening air was thick with humidity, a stark contrast to the sterile, climate-controlled environment of Robin Miller's mansion. Paige pulled her worn leather jacket tighter. The mansion, a sprawling silhouette that blocked her view of the starry sky seemed to pulse with a certain arrogance.
"Alright, listen up," Paige said, her voice low and firm. "Cipher, give us the rundown one more time so we're all in agreement."
Cipher tapped a few keys on their datapad and their face was illuminated by the pad's soft blue glow.
"Perimeter security is a standard laser grid, with drone patrols. I've mapped out the blind spots and we are able to slip through. The internal sensors are a mix of thermal and motion, but Cara’s got a bypass code for those."
Cara nodded as she fiddled with the strap of her medical kit. "Miller’s life support system is the key. Disabling the main power conduits should bring it down temporarily. But we need to be precise. We need to cause enough disruption to prove our point."
Jeremy scanned the surrounding landscape silently and shifted underneath his heavy coat.
"What about the old man himself?" he wondered. "He's bound to have some kind of personal security."
"He's old," Paige replied with a hint of steel in her voice. "Even with all his tech, he's still just a man. We're here to make him feel what the rest of us feel."
"Remember, this isn't just about sending a message anymore," Paige continued, her gaze sweeping across the group. "This is about taking back what he has stolen: a life that should've ended decades ago, a life that should've been used to benefit others."
A tense silence fell over the group, broken only by the chirping of the genetically modified crickets in nearby fields. The mansion loomed before them, a symbol of the very inequalities they were fighting against.
"Let's move," Paige ordered.
The laser grid flickered, then died. Cipher gave the group a thumbs up, inviting them to go forward. The Equity Conservators slipped through the gap, moving like shadows across the manicured lawn.
Paige stepped inside first, silently pushing the door inward. The mansion's smart cameras, their lenses gleaming like malevolent eyes, tracked the intruders' movements. A silent red alert was pushed to a monitor in Miller’s private quarters. A soft chime echoed through the room, a gentle yet insistent warning.
He swiveled his high-tech wheelchair towards the display and stared at it with a frown, a frown etched with the lines of 195 years.
"Intruders," he rasped. "How unexpected."
With a flick of his wrist, he activated the mansion's internal security system. Automated drones, sleek and silent, detached from their charging stations and activated their searchlights.
"These younglings seem determined," he murmured as he was fixated by the live camera feeds. "Perhaps a conversation is in order."
His wheelchair hummed to life, a marvel of bio-integrated engineering. Its lift engines pushed off the ground, giving him a certain weightlessness. Then it glided out of his quarters, charting an autonomous course based on the intruders' location.
The Equity Conservators had reached the central atrium, a vast, open space dominated by a towering bio-luminescent tree. The soft orange glow of the tree cast an eerie light, revealing an intricate network of sensors and security cameras which lined the walls.
"This place is crawling with technology," Cara whispered, tapping commands into her datapad in an attempt to disable them.
"We don't have time for this. We need to get the life support systems now," Paige said in a harsh whisper.
Suddenly a soft hum filled the atrium as Miller’s wheelchair silently glided into view. Miller raised a hand in a gesture of peace. Illuminated by the tree's glow, his ancient eyes looked deeply sinister.
"Welcome," he rasped, his wheelchair amplifying and correcting his voice. "I must confess, I didn't expect guests tonight."
Robin Miller was a fusion of man and machine that bordered on the grotesque. His wheelchair was a far cry from the simple mobility device of the past. It had become a part of him, a bio-integrated life support platform. Thin, translucent tubes snaked from its chassis, disappearing into ports grafted directly onto Miller’s frail limbs. These tubes pulsed with a luminescent emerald fluid, carrying nanites that constantly repaired his decaying cells.
Beyond that, his scalp was covered in a network of fine metallic filaments in order to monitor his neural activity and feed that data to the wheelchair's AI. His chest rose and fell in a shallow rhythm, not from his accord but from the synchronized motions of the life support's artificial lungs. The air around him shimmered, a subtle distortion caused by the localized force field which protected him from airborne pathogens and environmental pollutants.
His eyes held a disconcerting clarity that belayed their age. His pupils were dilated and augmented with holographic overlays displaying real-time data on his vital signs. His skin, mottled and thin, was wrapped in a delicate network of subdermal sensors that tracked everything from his white blood cell count to his cellular integrity.
The entire setup gave the impression of a living museum exhibit, a relic of the bygone era of transhumanism.
Paige stepped forward, daring to press her case against her foe.
"We're not here for pleasantries, Robin Miller. We're here to end your charade."
"Charade?" Miller raised a thin eyebrow. "My longevity is a sign of human ingenuity, a triumph over the limitations of mortality."
"It's a sign of your greed," Paige retorted. "You hoard the very technology which could save countless lives, while others die in squalor. You've turned life into a commodity that only the rich can afford."
"My research, my discoveries, have benefited humanity," Miller insisted. "The applications of my work extend far beyond my own existence. But progress requires dedication and resources that I have already earned."
"Earned? You built your empire on the backs of the exploited," Paige scoffed. "Built on the suffering of those who couldn't afford your miracles. You can call that progress, but I call it theft."
"You misunderstand," Miller replied, his voice growing weary. "I am not responsible for the inequities of the world. I merely seek to push the boundaries of human potential."
"And in doing so, you have perpetuated those inequalities. For each of your 195 years of life," Paige countered. "You have created and thrived in a world where the rich live forever, while the rest of us are left to rot. Your 'progress' is an unnatural gilded cage which is a monument to self-preservation."
"You speak of equality, yet resort to violence and disruption to get your way. Is that your solution? To destroy what others have created?"
"Sometimes destruction is the only way to build something new. Your world is built on a foundation of lies and exploitation. We're going to tear it down, brick by brick."
"A noble sentiment," Miller gave a faint smile. "But it's misguided. You cannot dismantle progress. You can only adapt to it."
"We're not here to adapt. We're here to change it."
Their stalemate hung heavy in the atrium, with the air thick with unspoken threats. Paige’s determined gaze never wavered from Miller’s augmented eyes.
"Cara, now," she commanded, her voice sharp and clear.
Cara raised her datapad and began tapping commands hurriedly. Her code targeted the wheelchair's primary power conduits. A surge of energy pulsed through the whole atrium, followed by a sharp, metallic whine as the wheelchair's systems began to falter. The luminescent fluid in the tubes pulsed erratically as the humming of the life support system sputtered and died.
Miller’s eyes widened with surprise, and then a chilling realization came over him. The holographic overlays in his pupils flickered red before disappearing, leaving his eyes dull and lifeless. The metallic filaments on his scalp sparked and then went dark. The gentle shimmer of the force field dissipated, leaving him exposed to the unfiltered air of the atrium.
His chest heaved as his artificial lungs struggled to maintain his vital functions. The nanite fluid in his tubes congealed as the luminescent glow faded into a sickly green. His body began to betray him as the accumulated wear of nearly two centuries finally took its toll after being deprived of technological crutches.
He tried to speak, but only a gurgling rasp escaped his lips. His head slumped forward. The wheelchair's lift engines failed and settled heavily on the ground. The hum of its systems died into an eerie silence.
The air in the atrium crackled with triumph and unease. Their mission was complete. Miller, the man who defied death for nearly two centuries, was gone.