Machine Man - Max Barry [86]
“Yes …” I said. “No. I don’t like using other people’s technology. I like to build my own.”
“Oh. Well, that’s going to be something of a tough sell to management, Charlie, with thirty tons of military equipment waiting around for you to field-test.” She opened her mouth like she was about to laugh, then snapped it closed. “I’m kidding. You can take it as slow as you like.”
I touched the Threes. I wondered what that rough surface was for.
“Where does this end for you, Charlie? New legs. New arms. Just out of curiosity. When do you say, okay, now I’m happy?”
I blinked, because that was an odd question. You didn’t stop improving things. Reaching a point where everything was as good as it could be, that would be terrible. You might as well die.
“You know what? Forget the abdomen. We’ll get you a really long cord, we’ll plug your Threes into the generator, you can figure it out from there. How does that sound? Just dip your toe in the water.”
“Okay.”
“Okay!” She clapped her hands, took a breath. “Let’s get you into shurgery.”
“Surgery?”
“I forgot to mention. The, ah, the nerve interface or whatever on the Threes … the part that plugs into you? It’s a different configuration. Or something.” She waved her hands. “I don’t know. But they need to take another inch or two off your thighs.” Her cell phone trilled. She studied the screen. “We can’t dither all day, Charlie. What’s it to be? Shurgery?”
Part of me wanted to say Wait. Because did I really need to rush into the Contours? The rest of me said Yes.
“We’ll get you on a gurney, somebody can explain it all on the way. How’s that? Okay?” she said. “Okay?”
THE CEILING of Better Future was a checkerboard. The lighter squares were actually lights: they glowed uniformly, as bright in the corners as the middle. I had never appreciated this until I lay on a gurney and watched them pass over my head. “These lights are neat.”
“Can we get him sedated?” This was Cassandra Cautery, walking alongside. Cats were accumulating, and people in green scrubs. “We have a time presshure.”
“I’ll find out.”
I felt thrilled, and nervous, and like I had forgotten something. I wondered what that was. I jumped. “Where’s Lola?”
“Being treated,” said Cassandra Cautery. “They wanted to check her over, make sure she was okay.”
“I want to see her!”
“Would you like me to make a call? I can have her meet us in surgery.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Done.”
“Are you sure?” I felt light-headed, even though I hadn’t had any drugs yet. “You’re not just saying that?”
“Gas here.” A plastic mask approached. “Head forward, Dr. Neumann.”
“Can you make the call right now?” Hands took hold of my head. The mask snapped around my mouth and nose.
“Will do, Charlie. I have the phone right here.” She wiggled it. But she did not use it. We passed through a doorway. The glowing checkerboard ceiling was replaced by white sheetrock and surgical lights. I saw many people in green and thought, Do you need that many people for an inch or two of thigh? They grew fuzzy. Fuzzy and warm. My head was heavy.
“Did you,” I said. The rest of this was give me a general. I tried to push out the words but couldn’t feel my mouth. My head lolled. I got it up and saw people laying a green sheet across my body. Why do I need general anesthetic, I said. My eyes closed.
“He’s out. Go.”
I heard a click, then an electrical noise, like someone was testing it: vnnnnnn … vnnnn. A man said, “How much are we doing?”
“Everything,” said Cassandra Cautery.
I BECAME aware of smoke. I felt alarmed, in a small, sectioned-off part of my brain. In my line of work, smoke means someone made a mistake. Somebody forgot to check a tolerance. Convert from imperial. This smoke curled along the ceiling above me. I wasn’t sure whose mistake it was. But it was pretty.
Get up, said the part that was worried about the smoke. Another part said, Lie here a little longer, and that felt more persuasive. I was doped. I was relaxed. I would never feel this peaceful again, not without chemical assistance.
Something slooshed. Something went