Machine Man - Max Barry [84]
I wasn’t ready to depart the topic of Carl wanting to kill me, but this got my attention. “You’re going to give me parts?”
“Your legs didn’t start talking to you, did they?”
“Um,” I said. “No.”
“Then yes. Whatever you want. Carte blanche. It’s like a dream come true for you, isn’t it? You get everything you want, because I’m running along behind you, cleaning up. I’m resigned to it. It would just be nice if someone stopped for one moment to say, ‘Hey, Cashandra, just letting you know, we couldn’t do this without you.’ I’m too capable. Anyone else in my situation would be insane from the stress. Do you know how old I am? Thirty-four. I’m only thirty-four.”
I licked my lips. When Cassandra Cautery had said, “They want to give you parts,” something in me had lit up. It began sending out pulses. Parts. Parts. “I can really have parts?”
“Yup.” The Better Future complex rose ahead. They had installed searchlights on the roof, which shone in the dusk light. “The building’s been repaired, in case you’re interested. The entire wing had to be checked out for structural damage. People worked out of the cafeteria for weeksh. It was a nightmare.” She twisted to look out the back window. “Carl’s tracking us. Once he gets here, we’ll …” She glanced at me. “Give him the medical care and attention he needsh.”
The drumbeat in my head became almost painful. Parts. Parts. I tried to push it down, because I needed to establish something. “Are you sure I can actually have whatever parts I want?”
“Yes.”
“For myself.”
“No one else can handle them.”
“I can design and build my own parts.”
“In between testing military-grade Better Products, absolutely. Charlie. Trust me. There’s no catch.”
I wished I was better at reading faces. Whenever someone looks me in the eye and speaks earnestly, I believe them. I have no siblings.
The car descended the ramp to the underground garage. Yellow lights flicked past the windows. I tasted oil. I remembered that fantasy I’d briefly entertained at Dr. Angelica’s about escaping to a snow town and living out my life as a hermit, free from technology. What had I been thinking? That was really dumb.
“Welcome home,” said Cassandra Cautery. I didn’t look at her because I didn’t want her to see how excited I was.
I HAVE a strong focus. When something gets my attention I forget about everything else, like who I was talking to or where I was going. When I was six I got distracted at my birthday party by the washing machine, which was new, and sat in the laundry room watching it tick through cycles until my father came in and asked what the hell was I doing, everybody was leaving. In high school I was crossing the road and a beautiful girl walked by and I didn’t realize I was standing there gaping until she turned to see why everyone was honking. The look she gave me still makes my ears burn.
It’s a useful trait. I’m not sure I could have advanced far in science without it. But it’s not always appropriate. Sometimes this doesn’t bother me, because that washing machine really was more interesting than the birthday party, but other times I wish afterward that the shutters hadn’t closed. I wish I’d retained enough self-awareness to realize I was standing in the middle of the road like an idiot. I wish that when the town car drew up beside the parking lot elevator, my brain left room for thoughts besides Will I get parts now and I wonder what they’ve done on legs. Because the door opened and I saw a guard with a wheelchair and I did not once think about Lola.
CASSANDRA CAUTERY rode in the elevator with me. The doors opened on the ground level and a guard wheeled me into the corridor. Three white coats stood facing the wall with their hands neatly folded behind their backs. When we passed the atrium, all the chairs were turned