Machine Man - Max Barry [12]
“Six hundred thousand oscillations per second is a lot.”
“It sounds like a lot.”
“I had to put it in a vacuum. To stop it setting the air on fire.”
“It set the air on fire?”
“Only once. In a controlled environment.”
“Who do you work for again?”
“Better Future.” She looked blank. “We developed depleted-uranium ordnance in the seventies. In the eighties we made amphibious tanks. They didn’t really work out. I don’t think we do them anymore. About ten years ago we got into medicine. We have a lot of pharmacological products. Lately we’re into proprietary metals fabrication, nonlethal weaponry, and bioengineering. We also sponsor the local softball team.”
An older man in a hospital gown blocked our path, gazing out over the gardens, a cigarette to his lips. He seemed irritated about something. Maybe everything. He looked like that kind of guy. “Excuse us,” said Lola. His gaze dropped to the Exegesis and his lips pressed together. “Hey,” said Lola. “What was that?” He pretended not to hear. “Hey. Smokey. What’s your problem? You think you’re a better human being because you’ve got two legs?” He pushed his IV hat stand back toward the building. “Yeah, congratulations on those. Good job. I’m sure you put a lot of work into them.” Lola turned to me. “Can you believe that?” She shook her head. “Outrageous.”
We walked.
“People with legs have no character, Charlie. Honest to God. They never once have to figure out how to get from one room to another. And if they ever realize that, they feel clever.” She threaded her arm through mine. “You’re going to struggle. You’re going to have it tough. And that will make you a better person.”
We walked in silence. A breeze touched my skin. I had never, ever, been this happy.
THE NEXT day Lola took me to the cafeteria. It was full of doctors and conversation and families being positive. Some patients had no hair and some were thin as wire frames and reminded me things could be worse. Lola and I took a table near the window overlooking the gardens. I had decided to ask her out. I wasn’t sure what that meant. I couldn’t take her anywhere. But it was what you did when you liked a girl. And if she said yes, you had a girlfriend. That was all I knew. I was very nervous because I hadn’t been in a position to ask a girl out since Jenny in wave propagation.
“How many people do you think you could poison before anyone noticed?” She was watching a woman serving coleslaw. “I think a lot.”
“Can we go out?”
She bit into her burger. “Not today. I have a plan for you involving a soccer ball.”
I had been unclear. I shifted my weight from one buttock to the other. My ski toes clanged against the table leg. “Bong,” said Lola.
“I like your hair.”
Lola’s eyes widened. They lit on a few strands drifting past her face. She made a noise like fffbrr, grabbed them, and twisted them around her ear. “Shut up.” I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know if I should explain that I wasn’t joking or let her think I was. “When are you plucking those eyebrows?”
I took a bite of my egg sandwich. I was out of my depth. Should I pluck my eyebrows? I didn’t know men did that.
Lola’s hip beeped. She unclipped her pager. “Bah. That can wait.”
Lola had other patients. Of course she did. Other men. She helped them walk and squeezed their hands when they took steps. I bet every one of them fell in love with her. Maybe not every one. She was kind of odd. But enough. I recalled a paper on how test subjects experiencing highly stressful events were disproportionately attracted to the first person they met afterward. The body confused arousal with attraction. I must be the latest in a long line of freshly dismembered men to fall under the spell of Lola Shanks. She was probably sick of it. If I told her I loved her she would look pained and explain that she really liked me and I was terrific but what we had was a working relationship. Then our sessions would be awkward. I should have realized this earlier.
“What?” said Lola.
I was staring. “Nothing.” I picked up my sandwich.
“I can’t believe you eat eggs,” she said. “They