Agent's Dog System

2.My Dog System

We find ourselves in a dark and desolate alleyway, somewhere we left off at the end of the previous chapter. "Congratulations, you have acquired the JORGS system," the voice repeated for the fifth time inside the dog's mind. However, all it received in response were enthusiastic barks: "Woof, woof." The system couldn’t understand what its new host was trying to communicate, but before it could process further, rough hands lifted the dog off the ground.

"What are you doing here?" said the person who had picked him up, his tone a mix of annoyance and disinterest. "You shouldn’t be here, and besides, you’re filthy." He was an employee of the municipal pound, a man in his forties with a thick, unkempt beard that looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in weeks. His clothes were wrinkled, and his overall appearance reflected a life marked by monotony and neglect. He smelled of sweat and stale tobacco, and his attitude exuded bitterness and apathy towards his job.

The JORGS system, still active in the dog’s mind, responded sarcastically: "Look who’s talking about being dirty and neglected." Of course, the man couldn’t hear or understand what the system was saying. He simply glanced at the dog with disdain and continued.

"Alright, you don’t have a tag, so into the truck you go," he announced as he opened the rear door of the vehicle. Inside, desperate barking and whining from other captured stray dogs filled the air. The noise was deafening, loud enough to be heard from miles away. The atmosphere inside the truck was claustrophobic, packed with metal cages crammed next to one another.

The employee didn’t notice the motionless body of Agent B-Twelve, hidden among the debris of a nearby abandoned building. The wall, fragile and worn down by time, had collapsed under his weight, leaving him out of sight. The only thing that caught the man’s attention was a pool of blood on the ground. "It must be from some fight or maybe a rat this dog caught," he thought, dismissing it without much concern. The dog, on the other hand, had no visible wounds and seemed indifferent to his surroundings, as if something far greater occupied his mind.

Once inside the truck, the man placed the dog in one of the few empty cages, closed the door with a sharp slam, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He pulled out a grimy towel to wipe his hands, then fished a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a long drag. Glaring at the animals in the cages through the reflection in the mirror above the dashboard, he shouted harshly, "Shut up, all of you, or things will get worse!" The barking subsided momentarily, though some dogs continued whimpering in silence.

Inside the dog’s mind, the artificial intelligence continued trying to process the situation. "Mmm, I see, so we can’t understand each other. I need to learn your language. I’ll begin downloading the language update," the system announced in a mechanical tone. Then it added, "This will take some time, so I’ll enter standby mode for a couple of hours, I believe." With that, the system temporarily deactivated, leaving the dog immersed in his own canine thoughts.

Meanwhile, the truck slowly made its way through the deserted streets back to the pound. At that moment, several black vans with tinted windows sped past the vehicle, nearly grazing it. It was Marie and a team of agency workers, driving urgently toward the location where they believed they might find Agent B-Twelve. The pound employee, whose name was ER, was startled as they zoomed by. "These lunatics think they’re so important!" he exclaimed angrily, muttering a string of curses in protest. But the vans were already far away, disappearing into the horizon. Resigned, ER continued his journey to the pound, unaware of the importance of the small dog he now carried with him.

This area was supposed to be the last location recorded by the GPS, and it was also where several witnesses reported seeing a bright light fall from the sky, presumably carrying Agent B-Twelve. The agents got out of their vehicles, cordoned off the area, and began a meticulous search.

"Look, it’s over here, Miss Marie," said one of the agents, pointing to a specific spot. She started running with urgency, her footsteps echoing against the worn pavement. When she arrived, her eyes fell on a large crater in the ground: it was the escape capsule. "How strange that ER didn’t notice such an obvious crater," Marie thought. "Well, maybe the guy is just too absent-minded or half-blind."

"Where are you, Nick?" she murmured to herself, using the agent’s real name. At that moment, another member of her team exclaimed, "Look! That wall was smashed by a huge impact."

They entered the building, illuminating the dark interior with their flashlights. The beams of light sliced through the shadows, revealing a human silhouette slumped against one of the walls, surrounded by traces of coagulated blood. The atmosphere was heavy with tension and concern.

"Here he is, but he’s severely injured, and his vital signs are extremely weak," one of the agents reported after quickly assessing the situation.

"Miss Marie, what do we do?" another asked, seeking instructions.

"Bring the medical equipment immediately and let’s get him to the base. Time is critical," Marie responded firmly, though her voice betrayed deep concern.

Two people entered with a high-tech stretcher and carefully placed the agent onto it. Once he was secured, the stretcher activated automatically, sealing itself like a protective bubble. A metallic voice emerged from the device: "Vital signs are critically low. Initiating sedative and stabilizer administration."

Marie watched the scene with a heavy heart. "Oh no… What did they do to you? Strong on the outside, but so sad inside," she whispered to herself, feeling the weight of her anguish pressing on her chest.

Then, turning to the others, she ordered, "Start searching for the artifact while I head to the base with Agent B-Twelve. Give me a report as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma’am!" everyone responded in unison, moving quickly and efficiently.

The agents began to spread out across the area, using advanced equipment to track the object they had risked so much to recover. Meanwhile, Marie climbed into the van transporting Nick and sped off toward the base at full throttle. The van seemed to fly over the asphalt, as if equipped with a built-in rocket. She drove with the precision of an action movie protagonist, ignoring traffic lights and sharp turns (kids, don’t try this at home; it’s pure fiction and could cause serious accidents). Fortunately, it was almost seven in the evening, and traffic in the area was light. Additionally, darkness was beginning to envelop the landscape, adding a more dramatic tone to the scene.

In the back of the van, two agency workers kept watch over the capsule where Agent B-Twelve lay. Marie, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel, murmured words of encouragement: "Hang on, we’re almost there. Not much further. You’re going to be okay, don’t give up."

One of the employees in the back, visibly nervous, commented, "I hope we make it in one piece too, because if we don’t, we’ll end up like him."

The other gave him a light tap on the head and scolded him in a low voice, "Fool, how can you say that in a situation like this?"

The first, embarrassed, responded, "Sorry… I’m just nervous."

Meanwhile, ER arrived at the pound. It was his last shift of the day, and he seemed eager to finish quickly. He knocked on the back door, and another worker emerged—a tall, extremely thin, and completely bald man. His name was Timmy, a young man of about twenty-six with a tired but kind expression.

"Hey, help me bring the dogs inside," ER said without much enthusiasm. He opened the back door of the truck and began pulling out the cages one by one, while Timmy took care of opening the doors at the rear of the pond. They worked in silence for a few minutes, placing all the dogs in their respective spaces. When they reached the small dog who was the protagonist of our story, ER told Timmy, "You bathe this one. I’m going to sign the papers."

Timmy looked at the dog with a mix of surprise and resignation. "This dog is filthy; it looks like he’s never been bathed, just like you, ER," he joked, though his tone was light. However, ER didn’t take it well. He quickly turned to Timmy with a threatening glare. "What did you say?" he asked in a deep, menacing voice. Timmy lowered his head, trying to avoid trouble. "I didn’t say anything," he replied hastily.

Without further argument, Timmy took the dog to the washing area. He began rinsing him with warm water, removing layer after layer of accumulated grime. The dog, who had previously lived on the streets, looked malnourished and worn down, almost moribund (of course, if you want to know more about his past, his story will be told in a future chapter). However, thanks to the acquisition of the JORGS system, his health had noticeably improved. As the dirt was washed away, the dog’s coat began to shine with a light beige tone, and his blue eyes, full of purity and innocence, sparkled under the light. One of his ears stood upright, while the other drooped slightly to one side, giving him a mischievous yet adorable look. It was clear that he was a young dog, probably around six or seven months old, and he appeared to belong to a small breed.

As Timmy continued drying him, the dog began giving him small licks on his hands, showing off his playful and affectionate nature. Timmy couldn’t help but smile. "You’re a good boy, aren’t you? I can’t imagine how someone could abandon you like that."

Once the bath was finished, Timmy fed him and placed him in a cage with the other animals. "Alright, let’s close up, Timmy. See you tomorrow. Make sure the vet comes to check on the dogs for adoption day," ER said with relief, eager to head home.

At the base, the agency’s doctors were working against the clock to stabilize the injured agent. A couple of hours passed before one of them emerged from the emergency room to speak with Marie. His expression was grim.

"The agent’s condition is not good," the doctor explained seriously. "We’ve decided to place him in an induced coma to keep him stable. He’s lost a lot of blood, and some of his organs are compromised. For now, there’s nothing more we can do."

Marie felt a lump in her throat. "What about his family? Is there anyone we should inform?"

The doctor shook his head. "Do you know if he has any close relatives?"

Marie lowered her gaze, thoughtful. "I don’t know. He never talked about it. If he did, he didn’t seem to care much."

With a heavy sigh, the doctor nodded. "Then we’ll proceed to place him in the cryogenic capsule to preserve his condition while we search for a more permanent solution."

They transferred him to a capsule resembling a cryogenic machine. They began injecting special fluids to initiate the process, while Marie watched with a heavy heart. "Hold on, Nick," she murmured softly. "You’re going to pull through."

At that very moment, in the pound, the voice of the artificial intelligence echoed once again within the dog’s mind: "I’m back, and look where we ended up during my absence: jail, it seems. Well, now I’ll be able to understand your language and interact with you. I’ve also found a voice for you."

At that instant, a familiar voice resonated in the dog’s mind: it was Nick, Agent B-Twelve. His tone was kind but curious, as if he were trying to establish a connection with someone for the first time.

"Hello, user, what’s your name?" asked the voice within the system, which in turn was inside the dog’s head.

The dog, now with Nick’s voice echoing in his mind—though neither the dog nor the AI knew whose voice it was—responded: "I don’t know, I don’t have a name yet. But I see they call me 'puppy.'"

"And what does that even mean? Puppy isn’t a name," the AI replied with an internal laugh. "But anyway, now that we can communicate—though on the outside, only barks can be heard—let me introduce myself. I’m an artificial intelligence, my name is Reia, and I’m part of the JORGS system. Blah, blah, blah…" The AI continued explaining its function in a somewhat technical tone, though the dog seemed more interested in other things.

Suddenly, a mental screen appeared before the dog’s eyes, displaying information in bright letters:

-Type of living being: animal detected, canine mammal.

"Ah! I’m a dog, a dog with a system," the dog thought, thrilled by this discovery. "What’s a system?"

"Well, pup, we’re asking ourselves the same question," Reia responded with a slightly sarcastic tone. "Though I think that’s something you should’ve learned before acquiring me."

The dog tilted his head, confused. "Acquire you? Did I acquire you? I don’t remember signing any papers."

Reia chimed in again during the mental conversation. "Well, technically, it was your destiny. You’re now part of something much bigger. But don’t worry, you’ll learn about it."

The AI continued explaining the basics of the JORGS system, though the dog seemed more interested in exploring his immediate surroundings. From the outside, all that could be heard were enthusiastic barks, as if the little canine were having a conversation with himself.

"And what happens now?" asked the dog, wagging his tail mentally.

"Ah, that’s something you’ll have to discover on your own," Reia replied mysteriously.

"For now, join us in the next chapter, titled: What is JORGS? "