Solaris VII, Lyran Commonwealth
12 February 3157
The video display was crisp and clean, but the images were far from. The Montour Civic Arena was one of the lowest of the low arenas on Solaris, and the action tended towards brutality. Today, a team of 4 warriors wearing construction exoskeletons were battling against a pair of cyborgs. The battle could roughly be summed up as "strength vs speed". No one was armed, but if anyone was hit, they were certain to be dead. The cyborgs had a serious advantage in speed, but the exoskeletons were moving together as a team and preventing the cyborgs from being able to get in and deliver a killing blow.
Soon the crowd would get bored, and the arena staff would activate the "encouragement" systems. Bangers, zingers, slicers, and other devices with cute names that would tear apart a man or machine in moments. If that failed to encourage the gladiators, then they'd eventually send in a Combinemech to grind up everyone.
In Montour, they sold blood for 15 C-bills a seat.
Dr. Einstein watched the display for a few more minutes before switching it off. The cyborgs were his design, and they were clearly going to die. It was a shame. The men were veterans of several wars, wounded so severely that full conversion was the only way for them to continue leading a normal life. However, there was a cost for full conversion- a lifetime of servitude to the stable that paid the bill. Dr. Einstein just did the work, it was how he convinced himself that he wasn't a murderer. In a few minutes, though, he'd have two more men whose death was on his head. It was lucky that his conscience had been completely burned out years ago, else he'd have felt a pang of guilt.
Turning back to the task at hand, he began opening up the patient's skull. Full conversion was the easiest, moving a brain was surprisingly easy. Across the room, the cyborg body waited patiently for a new brain. It'd be the cyborg's eighth. Maybe this driver would survive a few extra games in the arena. Then again, probably not.