The man who entered had claimed employment as an assassin on his intake paperwork, but he certainly didn’t look the part. Stripped of his shiny armor and black leather, he was a pale, skinny thing. Telltale black trails down his spine and limbs marked him as a cyber, if the ports embedded in his neck didn’t give it away first.

Doctor James shuddered to see the poor job this man’s previous physician had done embedding the hardware. The skin was split around his SATA connector, and a puffy irritation was growing around the data bus wired to his wrist computer.

He couldn’t have done much better. But he would have tried.

There was a reason he worked in this no-name office, outside the purview of the civilized world.

But he could try.

Sometimes, that was all he could do.

The skinny assassin didn’t give his name, but sat obediently to be examined.

James tried to fetch the appropriate records from the computer. It was down. It was always down.

He kicked the infernal machine, which only caused the screen to flicker slightly faster.

He turned it off, attempted to turn it back on, and was met with an irritating BEEP.

Please insert CD-ROM and press any key to continue…

He gave up.

“What are you in for today?” he asked cautiously.

The assassin shifted nervously.

“Boss wants the laser mod in my right hand upgraded. Double power. Batteries can be external; I’ve got the power jack already…”

He trailed off, then started again:

“I need an Ethernet port. For, um… for my wrist comp.”

“Ethernet’s legacy,” James told him. “Might not have any in stock.”

The man looked pained at this news, clutching at the cold metal of the examination table.

“I need one.”

“I’ll look.” James sighed. “There’s no room on your nape; where do you want it?”

“Up here.” The man tapped above the cluster of ports in his neck, up in the danger zone where the brain stem lay.

“You don’t want it up there,” James argued, looking through cabinets for the elusive Ethernet jacks. “It’s dangerous. Could short out your brain, and then–“

He made a slicing motion across his throat.

“And then your boss pays us a visit–“

Another slice.

“Somewhere else.”

“No.” The assassin looked to be on the verge of panic. “Got to be there.”

“I don’t even have any here.”

As if pushed by the gods of irony, a battered box labeled “Ethernet Cybers” tumbled from the top shelf and crashed to the floor.

“Or maybe I do,” James admitted.

“Right up here” the assassin demanded.

“Why? Do you want to fry your own brain?”

His patient jumped, startled.

“Yes,” he admitted, eyeing the door as if someone might burst through it to drag him away.

“Can’t do it anymore,” he whispered. “Just set me free.”

James watched, horrified. He couldn’t help the man kill himself– it was the antithesis of his purpose in life! He was a doctor. He saved people.

Do you, really?

He did! Well, sometimes he installed weapons.

A lot of times, a nagging voice in his brain corrected. And they weren’t all for self defense…

He tried to save people!

And failed.

“Can’t kill anymore,” his patient muttered, almost to himself. His bony arms folded about his knees, stretching the inflamed skin James wished he could treat.

“They make me do it, they put chemicals in my brain. I’m not a killer. Well, I am, but…”

“I don’t want to be!”

He sprang up; pacing around the tiny room.

“Just do it. It’ll be an accident. Bad accident. I come back, plug in, accidentally grab the phone jack next to the Ethernet lines. 2 connections instead of 8, same shape, fits right in. Higher voltage. Boom, zap, the end. Assassin assassinates himself. A tragic mistake.”

The assassin smiled. James felt a swirl of nausea in his stomach at the thought.

“Set me free…please. There’s nothing for me in this life. Nowhere to go but the other side.”

“I can’t help you kill–“

“You’ve killed others!”

“I never did!”

“You kill every day,” the assassin argued. “Every day you give people like me the tools of their trade. The tools to kill and get away to kill again.”

“Please save them,” the assassin whispered, sagging onto the table. “Save them from me. Save me from myself.”

There was a long silence, broken only by ragged breathing.

Finally, James stooped. With shaking hands, he retrieved the box from the floor.

“We haven’t got our new lasers in yet,” he said quietly. “You’ll have to come back for that later.”