Upgrade: To Flight
© 2024 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  scotikproductions



“Wake up, please.” The words were accompanied by a slight whiff of lemon.

Sarah’s eyes opened, closed, and opened again as a sudden sense of disorientation swept over her. She’d been looking up at a generic, fluorescent-lighted ceiling, and now she was looking at – what was she looking at?

The ceiling was different, the lighting was a different arrangement, and a little dimmer. There was something, a curved expanse of glass between her and the ceiling, and a projected series of words, numbers and images were displayed on the glass. Sarah boggled at them until she realized that everything was backwards; so, they were meant to be read by someone outside where she was.

Okay, and she felt a little satisfaction at her observations and conclusions. Apparently, the trip was over, and it was now two years since she’d entered Upgrade’s ‘processing.’

She started looking around, and there was something taking up some of the lower part of her visual field. She raised her right hand to investigate, and blinked.

A slim, five-fingered hand . . . but covered in light-brown . . . fur?!

Sarah brought her left hand up and it was the same as her right. A sudden frisson of fear swept through her until she recalled what Randall Wei had said: “ . . . a simplified human substrate and modifying it with several mammalian species’ attributes.” Recalling it helped calm her down.

Well, just a little.

She brought the hands up to explore what was in her visual field, and ended up banging into, and then stroking, a canine snout, complete with a wet nose.

A dog, maybe? Sarah recalled the times people would call her a bitch and she started to laugh at the fact that she was one now. The laugh sounded like her voice, maybe a little softer, and she felt two somethings on her head move. A quick exploration with her fingers, and she felt a pair of ears.

They felt a little large.

Her hands moved down her body. Yes, she was furred all over, and apparently someone took notice that she was awake and moving because the heads-up display on the glass was replaced by an obviously AI-generated image of a young woman wearing a light gray suit. “Hello,” the image said.

“Hello,” Sarah replied, guessing that the image was interactive.

The image smiled. “I’m glad you’re awake.” Guess confirmed. “The Upgrade Corporation welcomes you to Founding. The trip to your new world and home was a success, and as your contract states you were given a body tailored to the planet’s climate.” She paused.

Sarah asked, “So I’m a dog?”

The image shook her head. “You are a canine, yes, but more specifically a silver-backed jackal, which on Earth is a type of animal native to Africa.” A series of pictures appeared, showing one in the wild side-by-side with what Sarah supposed she looked like now. “We have several new agricultural communities established in a desert region,” the image explained.

“Hmm,” Sarah said, studying the image as it rotated. The figure was slimmer than her previous body, with light brown fur everywhere apart from a broad band of gray-tipped black fur running from between her ears down to her tail. The thought that her older brother could no longer tease her by calling her ‘Yogurt’ caused her muzzle to crease in a grin.

But she doubted she’d get used to having a tail for a while.

The image said, “I’m going to ask you to get out of bed now. A printout containing your identification, housing and work assignments will be waiting for you,” and the image smiled, “and you’re probably hungry, so there’s a lunchroom – “

“What about clothes?” Sarah asked.

“A jumpsuit will be under your printout,” came the ready reply. “Again, welcome to your new home.” The image faded, as did the two images of the jackal and the body she was inhabiting now, and the curved glass cover over the bed lifted away.

The air felt cool and dry, scented lightly with disinfectant, and Sarah sat up slowly. The room contained only the bed, and as she maneuvered to place her new feet on the floor, a drawer slid out of the bed’s base. Sure enough, there was a small sheaf of paper resting on top of a light tan garment.

Sarah took her time getting to her feet and walking around before getting dressed. The one-piece garment had a hole in the back for her tail, with some elastic that prevented someone from seeing her rear end. Despite the temperature in the room feeling comfortable, Sarah felt better being clothed.

She felt her stomach rumble as she picked up the paperwork, so she folded it and placed it in a pocket before walking to the door.

The corridor was as clean and white as the room she’d awakened in, but there were other people passing by her as she stepped out of the room and the door closed behind her. They were a mix of species, some jackals like her and some tawny-coated felines. A few canines wearing trousers and t-shirts labeled ESCORT were helping a few along. A red label on the wall pointed the way to the lunchroom, so Sarah started walking.

A few of the people walking along with her seemed to be like her, looking around her with curiosity, if not wide-eyed wonder. Several more were stumbling, as if they were still unused to their new bodies.

Quite a few looked either scared or angry.

The lunchroom was a huge cafeteria, and Sarah got a tray that was quickly loaded with a bowl of beef stew, a biscuit, and a glass of milk. It all smelled real, and quite delicious, so she found a seat and started eating.

It tasted as good as it smelled. She was halfway through her meal, savoring every bite (the meat appeared to be real) when her ears flicked at a small commotion at a nearby table.

A male jackal was on his feet, scowling at one of the escorts, his hands balled into fists. “I ain’t supposed to be here!” he shouted. “I want to talk to the Warden!”

“There’s no ‘Warden,’ sir,” the escort, a tiger, said evenly, “but if you’ll come with me you can talk to the ombudsman.” The jackal fumed, but stamped out of the room with the tiger beside him.

“I heard about that,” and Sarah turned to look at the canine woman seated to her right.

“Oh?” Sarah asked.

The woman nodded. “Heard a rumor on the socials that the government were giving Upgrade more colonists.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Emptying out the prisons.” She shrugged. “Might be a rumor, but the government keeps pulling threads, so there might be something to it.”

“Well, I’m not a prisoner,” Sarah said. “I’m a teacher.”

“Cool.” The canine went back to get seconds, and Sarah finished her meal, wiping her muzzle fastidiously with a napkin before she fished her paperwork out of her jumpsuit.

She felt her ears go back when she read the first page and forced herself to read the other two pages before she put the papers away, turned her tray in, and approached one of the escorts. “Excuse me?” she asked the bear.

“Yes, Ma’am?” he asked.

“Where’s the ombudsman?”

The bear smiled and pointed. “That way, Ma’am.” Sarah thanked him and headed in the direction he indicated.

There was a line and she joined it, fretting slightly until it was her turn to enter the small booth. She darted in as soon as the previous person departed and sat down as the door closed.

Facing her from a screen was an anthro dog, maybe a collie, wearing a light shirt. “Hello,” he said with a pleasant smile. “How may I help you?”

“I – I have a few questions.”

“Go ahead. You have a limited time in this booth,” the canine said. “There’s a lot of people waiting.”

“My name.”

“Your name?”

“Yes. My name’s Sarah Connolly, but when I – woke up – my name was changed.”

“I see. What’s your date of birth?” She told him, and he poked at the keyboard just out of her view. He nodded. “Ah, yes. Your name as it appears on the contract is Sarah Connolly.”

“That’s right, but when I got here it was changed to Sarla Konndy.”

The dog nodded with a knowing smile. “Yeah, that happens at times. Glitches make their way into the database during the trip here.”

“Well, can you change it back?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Konndy.”

“What?!”

“Your signature on Earth is one thing, but your name on arrival here on Founding is Sarla Konndy.” He smiled. “You’ll get used to it. Was that all?”

“What? No! I hired on here to become a teacher.”

He glanced down, presumably looking at her contract. “Yes, that’s right.”

“So why does my – why do my papers read ‘Agricultural worker?’”

An inset appeared beside him, showing her the contract she had signed two years earlier, back on Earth. “Section Two, Clause Two states that once you arrive on Founding, you will be assigned to the profession you indicated on your contract – “

“Yes.”

“But Clause Three clearly states that if the profession you’ve stipulated is full, you will be reassigned to any profession where there is a worker shortage.” He smiled, but it seemed forced. “We have enough teachers, because we really don’t have enough children yet, but we need hands in the fields.” As she spluttered indignantly, he added, “You’re fortunate in having a jackal’s form. They’re well-suited to this climate.”

Sarah gritted her teeth in anger. “Can I be a teacher’s assistant until there’s an opening?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She took a deep breath. “I want to go home. And if I hear ‘I’m afraid not,’” she said to the canine, “I shall get rather cross.”

“All right, I won’t say it,” the collie’s pleasant demeanor slipped a little. “You know it’ll take two years to get back to Earth.”

“Yes.”

“And it took two years for you to get here.”

She felt her ears go back. “So?”

A clause in her contract was highlighted. “Clause 2b clearly states that once you have been uploaded to the ship for departure, your body becomes the responsibility of Upgrade.” He gave her a serious look. “You do know there are food shortages back on Earth.”

“Yes, but – “ Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Wha - ?”

“And life-support equipment and medical care costs a lot of money.”

Her mouth hung open in shock.

The door behind her snapped open and the dog said, “Your time’s up, Miss Konndy. Please leave the booth, or I will call Security.”

“So . . . I can’t go home?”

“I’m – “

“Afraid not. Got it.” She left the booth.


***


She visited the restroom after leaving the booth.

Her first meal on Founding was left behind when she stepped back out. The thought that her body – her human body – had likely been ground up and sold as food still stunned her and made her stomach churn.

It was more of a shock than the realization that she was unable to return to Earth.

She racked her brain trying to think of meals she’d had that had included ground meat of any kind, but eventually she suppressed the thought, convinced that she’d go crazy if she thought about it further. Following the instructions on the paperwork she’d been given, she moved on to Supply.

She emerged from the Supply Room dressed in simple utilitarian shorts with several pockets, a light shirt that covered her breasts, and sandals. An issued knapsack contained more clothing, hygiene items and her combination identity and debit card. “What?” Sarah asked the clerk. “No flea treatment?”

The clerk was a fox, and he glowered at her. “If I had a dollar for every time someone new made that joke . . . Upgrade forgot to bring fleas from Earth, so none us have to worry about it.”

“That’s good to know,” Sarah said. She looked at her paperwork and asked, “Where’s the Employment Office?”

The fox pointed. “Across the street.”

“Thanks.”

At the door, Sarah hesitated before leaving the air-conditioned confines of the building. She squared her shoulders and walked outside – and stopped.

The air was warm and dry, and scented with blossoms from a nearby tree. It didn’t smell of car exhaust or ozone. The breeze was almost sensual on her exposed fur, and she spent a few moments just trying to make sense of the signals her new body was sending to her before glancing left and right and heading across the two-lane road. The vehicles she could see appeared to run on electricity. The buildings looked utilitarian and no more than three stories tall.

The sky above her was a deep blue, and she tried to concentrate on not getting run over despite the urge to look up.

The clerk behind the counter, a feline with gray tabby fur, smiled as Sarah walked in. “Hello,” she said. “New arrival?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, yes, I am,” Sarah said. “My papers say that I’m assigned as an agricultural worker,” and she offered them to the woman.

The woman’s fingers danced over her keyboard. “Sarla Konndy?”

Sarah decided not to fight it. She bit back a snide remark and said, “Yes.”

“It says here that you’re assigned to Farm Number Seven. It’s about a hundred kilometers south of here.”

“Do I have to walk?”

The tabby chuckled. “No, there’s a bus. It’ll be leaving as soon as it’s full.” She pointed the way to the parking lot, and Sarah shouldered her knapsack and walked out of the building.

Had she still been human, she’d be sweating a little, and be wanting sunscreen. Her new form didn’t really require that, and she felt rather comfortable. Finding the bus, she took a seat and leafed through the other papers.

The town she was in was named Armstrong; it was the primary reception area for new arrivals. The spaceport was just over the mountains to the north of where she sat. While the colony was nearly self-sufficient in foodstuffs, the goal of the mining and agricultural communities being established was to start sending food to Earth. A lot of the explanation in the paperwork spoke of being part of a grander plan to help the planet of her birth.

The debit card part of her identification, she was assured, was usable at any store on the planet, and she would be getting paid for her work. The card was also her key to accessing the local internet, and Sarla brightened at that; she could check periodically if there was a teaching job open.

Sarla sat back in the comfortable seat as more colonists got on, and she recognized the canine she’d sat beside during her meal. She waved her to the seat beside her. “You’re headed to the same place I am,” she said.

“Looks like it,” the canine said. “Jackie,” and she offered a hand.

“Sarla,” the jackal said, taking it.

“That’s an odd – “

“Yeah. Supposed to be ‘Sarah,’ but my name got messed up on the way here.” Sarah shrugged. “They can’t change it, so I may as well get used to it.” With the last colonist getting on and taking a seat, the bus doors closed and the vehicle started to move.

Armstrong was soon far behind as the road made its way among rolling hills to flatter terrain and began to follow the contours of a river to their destination. The trees she’d seen grew fewer, replaced by scrub bushes and finally a broad expanse of plowed land with several buildings in the center of it.

A lot of the bus passengers watched the farm approach, some with hope and others with trepidation.


***


Farm Number Seven looked fairly new, with an administration building, dining hall, and two large dormitory-style barracks. The new arrivals were ushered into the dining hall to hear the farm’s administrator, a muscular tan-furred feline, give an orientation lecture.

“My name’s Daniels,” the mountain lion said, “and me and the staff have been waiting for you. First, anyone here done any farming?” No hands went up. “Gardening?” No hands. “All right,” Daniels sighed, “here’s what’s going to happen.”

“First, you’re all employees of Upgrade Corporation. Since you’re employees, you’re expected to work so you can get paid. Since none of you know what you’ll be doing, you’ll be trained - not just to grow food and tend animals, but to operate the machinery around here. How fast you learn is up to you.

“Farm Number Seven will be raising drought-resistant crops, as well as chickens and pigs. You’ll be shown to your quarters after dinner. Note,” he said, “that one barracks is for men, the other for women. This will be enforced.”

“Oh yeah?” one man asked. He snorted derisively. “How?”

“Like this,” Daniels said, and one of the other staffers, who had been walking around the tables, slammed a stun gun into the man’s kidney. He howled in pain before being dragged off and Daniels said, “A copy of the rules is on each person’s bed. If you don’t know how to read, find someone who does. Be back here in an hour for dinner.”


***


“I heard something,” Jackie said a month later.

Sarla lifted her head from the weeding she was doing and glanced at her. Being a teacher by trade, she had set herself to learn as much as possible.

Not that it mattered much. Despite occasional queries to the jobs center, a teaching post hadn’t come open yet despite the fact that the colony’s population was growing. Surely people were having children, and those kids would have to learn things, right? “What did you hear?” the jackal asked, glancing around to see is one of the supervisors had spotted them. Discipline was fairly strict, but if you knew your job and did your quota of work, you wouldn’t be punished just for talking.

“I heard a couple guys talking,” Jackie said, getting back down on her knees and pulling weeds. “I think they were from a prison or something.”

“Oh?” She’d seen a few of them, and she didn’t like the way they looked at her or the other women.

“Yeah. They were talking about busting out of the barracks and taking over from Daniels and the staff.”

Sarla felt her ears go back. “Good lord, that’s a stupid idea.”

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” Jackie asked, the canine’s ears swiveling.

The jackal shrugged. “Not my business.”


***


When it came, a few months later, it happened shortly after sunset.

Sarla was sitting on her bunk in her panties and reading a book when the lights went out. Amid a lot of shouting, she got up to see what was going on and looked out a window just in time to see something burst into flames near the farm’s administration building.

She squinted and was aghast to see a body in an untidy sprawl.

Most of the women in the dormitory were crowding the exits, and Sarla tagged along more out of curiosity than anything else. The night was warm, and she spent a few moments looking up at the stars before she focused on the crowd of shouting workers. Some of them were looting the administration building.

Her ears flicked at a sound, and she looked up to see a flight of drones as they flew overhead, lights stabbing down out of the darkness to illuminate the disturbance.

Maybe Daniels or one of the staff had time to call in an alarm, Sarla thought to herself as she ducked around a corner before one of the drones spotlighted her. The buzzing sound of the drones mixed with the sound of the rioting workers, causing her to put her hands over her ears.

She stumbled away from the barracks to the fields and crouched down, watching as several vehicles pulled up and started to disgorge figures. One crossed in front of a pair of headlights, revealing that they were dressed and armored in black.

They held weapons.

They started shooting, and screams began to be heard.

Sarla watched this from the field as the riot troops began to methodically kill everyone. Her ears were tight against her head, her tail was tucked between her legs, and her heart was hammering in her chest.

Something deep and primal spoke to her then.

Run.

The jackal sprinted across the fields, headed for the river.




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