Machine Man - Max Barry [56]
I said, “I need to talk to you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Well … okay.” She walked around Carl. “Keep practicing those lifts.”
“Okay,” said Carl.
“HE SHOT you,” I whispered. “In the heart.”
Lola scowled. She had a hell of a scowl. I had never seen it before. Her eyebrows rotated thirty degrees. “You think I don’t know that?”
“Then why—”
“Because he’s hurt.”
“This …” Down the corridor, a guard coughed into his hand. I forced myself to lower my voice. “This was not an accident.”
Lola’s eyebrows flipped. “Why would you say that?”
“Because nothing that happens here is an accident. Cassandra Cautery said—”
“Your first transfemoral was an accident. You got caught in a clamp.”
“That was different. That’s not the point. The point is—”
“What’s the point?” She put her hands on her hips. These emotional cues were distracting. I was used to arguing with scientists, who would explain with perfectly bland faces why you were wrong and stupid. “Tell me the point.”
“The point is they’re my parts.”
Lola went still. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous. “You didn’t just say that.”
“I built these. He took them without asking. Or someone took them. How would you feel if you saw someone else wearing parts of your body?”
She screwed up her face. “What?”
“He’s got a piece of me in his body.” I felt panic. “I’m not explaining this very well.”
“It’s a prosthesis. A prosthesis, Charlie.”
“My prosthesis.”
“He’s lost both arms!” Her voice echoed up the corridor. I glanced over my shoulder. The security guards avoided my eyes.
I swallowed. “I can … I’ll make something. Something just for him.”
Lola stared at me. “I’m surprised at you.”
“They’re going to give him the big arms. The ones I made for me. They’re not going to let me have them.” I tried to touch her arm but she shook me off. “Let’s go to your suite. You shouldn’t be here. You just had heart surgery.”
“That was two months ago,” she said, which surprised me, but I guess it was true. “I’m fine. That man …” She pointed at the recovery room. “Is not.”
“Lola,” I said. “Wait. Don’t go in there.” But she did.
“I UNDERSTAND,” said Cassandra Cautery. “They’re your parts.” She spread her arms. “What’s to get? They’re your parts.”
I nodded. “My parts.”
“I had a sister once. She used to borrow my clothes. I’d be looking everywhere for this one particular belt and she’d walk in wearing it. Drove me insane.” She put an elbow on the arm of the sofa. Her legs were tucked beneath her, as if she might be about to curl up for a nap. It was not a particularly nice sofa. It looked like one from the lobby they had been going to throw out. “And that was just clothes.”
“Right.”
“I should have thought this through. I blame myself for forgetting your feelings in all this.”
“I wasn’t going to chop off my arms. Not today.”
“Of course you weren’t. Right? Of course you weren’t. That was just me …” Her hand danced in the air. “Getting obsessive about control again. You have to understand this project is forcing me to go beyond my comfort zone in a lot of ways. Like I told the Manager, Charlie, I relish challenge. I relish it. But, wow, it’s hard for me to sit back and let things happen. I have to force myself to do that. And what happened today, Charlie, was I panicked and reacted on instinct.” She took a breath. “I promise to work on trusting you, Charlie. If I do that, can you trust me?”
I hesitated. She seemed convincing.