Machine Man - Max Barry [45]
“Should I fetch you a sweater?”
I jumped a little, because I’d forgotten Carl was here. “What?”
“You’re shivering.”
It was true. “Oh. No.” I put my hands on the grips and pushed myself toward the Contours. Carl did not stop me; did not close his hand on my wrist and say, Choose something else. I ran my hands over the metal, checking connections, making sure everything was there.
“You really like those things,” said Carl. “They can press, what, a ton?”
“Something like that.” It was four tons. Which, frankly, was nothing compared to what they would do once I implemented some modifications I’d been thinking about. But I didn’t say that, because Carl was trying to engage me, and I didn’t want to be engaged.
“You can never be strong enough,” Carl said. “That’s for sure.” He placed a card on the steel bench beside him: my ID. “I’ll leave you to it.” That was the last time I ever saw him. All of him, I mean.
I CHOSE a selection of metal fingers and snapped them into a hand. It wasn’t a full hand. It was more like a glove. In the accident I had only crushed three fingers. It seemed worse at the time. The glove allowed the artificial fingers to slot easily into position, driving the nerve interface needles between my knuckles. This hurt about as much as you’d expect, but not for long. What I had discovered was you could get used to anything. I had the feeling of being connected to something large and cold and distant and my synapses popped pleasantly. I looked at my metal fingers and they moved.
I wheeled myself back to the Contours and pressed for them to retract. Once they were a comfortable height, I lifted the nerve interface mat out of the sockets. The great thing about the hand was the fingers did not tremble. They slid the needles into my flesh as precisely as lasers.
When I had finished wiring myself, I hauled myself into the sockets. Three weeks ago I hadn’t been able to do this without assistance. I had come a long way. I got comfortable and closed my eyes and the pistons hissed. The Contours’ hooves thunk-thunked against the floor. I won’t lie, it was one of the most sensual experiences of my life. As much as I had missed the legs, I had underestimated how good it would feel to have them back.
I took a step. Thunk. The way they’d borne me through the city, screaming out of control, I had probably imagined most of that. These legs wouldn’t betray me. They were reliable. I could tell. They were practically me.
My eyes fell on the wheelchair. That thing looked like a joke. I walked to it, raised a hoof, and positioned it on the seat. I pressed down. The chair’s metal struts popped and squealed and it splintered like firewood.
I WALKED to the elevators. While I waited, hands behind my back, I hummed a little. The elevator doors opened on two assistants wearing Z-specs. “Good morning, Dr. Neumann!” They moved aside to make room.
“Hello.” I couldn’t remember their names.
“Are you coming back to work?”
“Yes,” I said. “No.” Those milky lenses were a little creepy. Of course, I was half machine. But still. “Soon.”
“Good.” The tall one grinned. “We have some things to show you.”
The doors opened. I stepped out. I was curious about those things. But I wanted to see Lola more. It was funny, because an hour ago all I could think about was my parts. And Lola was almost certainly sleeping. There was nothing productive I could do there. Still, I made my way to her room and ducked under the doorway. Her eyelids briefly fluttered open and she smiled. It was a small smile but very beautiful, and I thought about this afterward: this perfect moment, which could not be improved.
I READ once that you need two things to be happy: any two of health, money, and love. You can cover the absence of one with the other two. I drew comfort from this idea while