Machine Man - Max Barry [57]
“You want the arms. I know that. I will fight to get you those arms. What can I do to make you feel comfortable, Charlie? Tell me.”
A thought occurred. “Uh …”
“Anything.”
“Well …” I cleared my throat. “About Carl …” I paused, in case Cassandra Cautery wanted to leap ahead. “He says he had an accident.”
“Not quite true. He volunteered. We needed someone to test arms and he came forward. Don’t ask me why. But he did.” She held up her palms. “I couldn’t tell you. I knew how you’d react. But there was a scheduling issue. Your department produces more prototype-stage products than you can field test. You were blocking the funnel. But forget that. That’s resolved. What’s the problem with Carl?”
“I’m not comfortable with him.”
Her eyes held mine. “Would you like me to do something about that?”
“Can you?”
“Whatever you want.”
I did not feel proud of myself. But I remembered Lola’s eyes when she had said: He doesn’t have any arms. “Can you get rid of Carl?”
“It’s done.”
“Really?”
“It’s done. Forget about it.”
“I feel bad for him, but—”
She waved a hand. “I get it. He’s a distraction. He impairs your ability to work.”
“Yes. Exactly. He impairs.”
“Don’t spare him another thought,” she said.
THE ELEVATORS worked. I had renewed access. When I exited at the labs, I passed a closed, pristine stairwell door. It had been two hours and already they had erased everything I had done.
I shouldn’t be here. I had been awake for twenty hours and could feel an adrenaline crash coming. But I didn’t want to lie in that bunk room with a dead potted plant. I didn’t want to stare at the ceiling and think about what I’d asked Cassandra Cautery to do.
I swiped into Lab 3. The lights flared like supernovas. On the steel workbench gleamed tiny valves and switches. I closed the door and made my way to the bench. I retracted the Contours to a comfortable height, picked up my Z-specs, and began to work on Lola’s heart.
I EMERGED so tired I could barely keep my head up. The Contours bore me along, not minding that I nodded off once or twice. They were good legs.
Lola leaned against the wall outside my bunk room, fingering the hem of her polo shirt. Over the heart was stitched a Better Future logo. “Hi.”
“Oh,” I said. “Hi.”
“I’m sorry about before. The argument.”
“Okay.” Now she was here, I couldn’t even remember why we’d fought.
“I’m a yeller. I should have warned you. It comes with growing up fighting with your mom. I was thinking that to you, maybe it came across more angry than I meant. Because you have a different baseline.”
That made sense. I nodded.
“So, Charlie, I’m kind of scared you don’t like me anymore.”
“Oh,” I said. “No. That’s not true.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She held out her arms and we hugged. She turned her head and kissed my neck. “You’re the best. I don’t mean that like an expression.” She stepped back and kicked my Contours. They tingled, as if I were outside in a thunderstorm. “I should let you sleep. You look beat.”
“Okay.”
“What you said about making parts for Carl … I realize that’s a big thing. It’s really sweet. It’s like the best thing you could ever do for someone.”
“Um.”
“Sleep. I’ll talk to you when you can think straight.”
“Okay.” I went inside and closed the door and stood there.
I COULDN’T sleep. Not because of phantom pain. Because of Carl. He crawled into my mind and I couldn’t get him out. I woke sticky with sweat, from dreams of Carl following me. He stood in the Clamp, looking at me armlessly as the plates closed in. His eyes said: How could you do this? You know I need parts.
I sat up. Carl was bad, wasn’t he? He had shot Lola and stolen my arms. Or if not stolen, at least used them. The point was he was a destroyer of relationships. He was dangerous to an important thing I had.
But he had no arms. Without my help, he would get hospital prosthetics. He would live a terrible life.
I woke the Contours and levered upright and headed to the Glass Room. I would call Cassandra Cautery. I didn’t know her home number but