Machine Man - Max Barry [73]
A thin pain penetrated my bubble world. “Urk,” I said.
“Be careful with him.”
“It’s a scratch,” said Dr. Angelica. “The bullet barely nicked him.” But she sounded mollified. “I’m being gentle.”
“Thank you,” said Lola.
I WOKE happy. It was dark. I didn’t know where I was. But I had come from a wonderful dream, in which I held Lola close and was safe. I lay still, not wanting to disturb it, but reality filtered in, bringing complications like the fact that I was being pursued by a vengeful security guard with multifunction sledgehammer arms. Still, it wasn’t so bad. All problems were insignificant compared to Lola saying, “I love him.” With Lola, everything was solvable. She was my independent variable.
On the ceiling above my head was a poster of a dinosaur. I turned my head. There were dinosaur pictures everywhere. In one corner, toy trucks overflowed from a basket. This was a kid’s room. In fact, now I looked at it, this was a small bed. Very small. I raised my head. I was not wearing legs.
My toes spasmed. My foot curled. My calves turned to screaming steel and the fact that none of this was real made no difference. I threw back the covers and massaged the space where my shrieking muscles would be but I knew it would do no good without the Contours and was right. Tears streamed from my eyes. When was the last time you took painkillers? my brain asked. Twelve hours ago? Sixteen? Everything will hurt so much worse now.
“Legs!” I screamed. “I need my legs!”
“TOAST?” SAID Lola. “There’s peanut butter. I could make you peanut butter toast.”
On TV, a nurse with remarkable cleavage stared out a window. The handsome doctor behind her said she would never get away with this.
“What’s that?” said Lola. “Yes or no?”
“Coffee.”
“You’ve had enough coffee.” She came out of the kitchen. I was standing in my Contours in the middle of the living room, watching TV. To make room, I had hoofed the sofa out of the way. It now sat against the wall, occupied by three aggrieved dogs. One wore a little faux-leather jacket. I hoped that dog was not supposed to be Elvis. “Why don’t you have some water?”
“I don’t want water.” The TV doctor wrapped the nurse into a passionate embrace. That was an unexpected development.
Lola came over. “Charlie, I know you’re coming down. But water will help.”
I gestured at my bandaged arm. “Will it help this?”
“Angelica says that’s a scratch.”
“I think it’s infected.”
Lola fell silent. “Well, she can look again tonight.”
Dr. Angelica had gone to work. She would, allegedly, bring home painkillers. In the meantime I had to survive on over-the-counter drugs. It was a major pharmacological decrease from my regular level of medication. Every yap from those dressed-up rats was a knife in my brain.
“I’ll make you toast,” said Lola. “And bring water.”
She went into the kitchen. I didn’t want to be irritable. It was my body, punishing me for the lack of painkillers. Lola took your parts, said my body. She took your legs while you slept. I ignored this. I was not going to get into a debate with my body. I would give it what it wanted. But one day, it would pay for this. Better Future was not the only research lab in the world. I would figure something out. This was not over, and I knew that was true because it had to be.
DR. ANGELICA arrived home at 6:18. Every muscle in my body was made of glass. My bowels were panicked and my nerves easily startled. I had nearly trodden on tiny scampering dogs so many times that I was ready to do it on purpose.
They heard Dr. Angelica’s approach before I did and went into a barking frenzy, throwing themselves down the corridor and pawing at the door. I had a moment of terror that maybe it was Carl, then Dr. Angelica dropped to her knees and scooped up as many as she could, laughing as they squirmed and licked her face. It was kind of disgraceful. I mean, I understand it’s nice to see each other, but have some dignity. You don’t need to roll over and expose your genitals. I don’t know how anyone can appreciate