The Human Blend - Alan Dean Foster [34]
Synthesized facial bone was grafted and sculpted. Over it, delicate fine-tuning was applied to Whispr’s brows and eyelids. There had been a time in Asia when rounder eyes had been considered a sign of beauty. When anyone could have whatever size, shape, or number of eyes they wished, such peripheral beauty concerns became nonexistent. Permanent ionic depilation thinned Whispr’s hair while minuscule injections turned the remaining follicles permanently black from root to tip.
Chaukutri paid no heed when Whispr’s entire body began to jump and twitch. It was merely a sign that chemicals and electronic stimulants which would have been the envy of ancient bodybuilders were giving his muscles an instant tune-up without damaging or overworking the fibers. Cutters opened his legs and peeled back skin and flesh. There was no bleeding at all. Each incision was accompanied by the introduction and adhesion of a mesh of hypoallergenic shunts. Instead of being allowed to leak out of his body, every drop of his blood was allowed to continue circulating normally through tubing that perfectly matched and mimicked his own arteries and veins.
Removing Whispr’s choice from a container of synthetic tendons (he had opted for a set of affordable midrange models grown in Africa), emplacers set them against bone, stretched them to their proper length, and sealed them enduringly in place alongside the patient’s already somewhat worn natural integuments. Informed by sensors that both of the customer’s knees were exhibiting the first signs of bursitis but were otherwise in good condition, Chaukutri had made the decision on his own to have them cleaned and upgraded. He felt that while Whispr would not accede to the cost of full replacement, he would grudgingly pay for a necessary refurbishment.
As soon as the legwork had been completed and closed up and after a routine check of the patient’s vitals, the machines moved on to the last of the programmed melds.
While Whispr’s body cavity was cracked, flexible transparent sheeting was installed to protect his exposed organs. As he floated in the hover field everything from his serpentine intestines to his dark liver and beating heart were exposed. Bone was added to the existing skeleton to support the additional tissue to come. Adding just the right blend of muscle and fat, a pair of protein chuggers layered bulk onto the body. New cells immediately began to draw nourishment alongside the old. Obligatory additional nerves were inserted simultaneously with the extra flesh, giving the result the look of dark red silk shot through with strands of tarnished silver.
Supplementary synthskin filled in the gaps and bound together the separated halves of Whispr’s split epidermis. After taking a shade and tone reading a final cosmetic touch was supplied by a sprayer that permanently matched the color of the new skin to the old.
Half an hour later Whispr was sitting up and strong enough to argue over the bill. Like the majority of basic, straightforward melds, the manipulations he had just undergone did not require hospitalization. They did, however, itch. From experience he knew not to scratch at the skin seams. Cupping a handful of Ms. Chaukutri’s freshly baked garlic naan he scooped at the beans and lamb the biosurge had laid out for him in the vehicle’s compact commercial kitchen. As it was now late, the serving area was closed. No one could see in through the one-way window.
Chaukutri joined him in dining. Not to scrutinize his progress but because the effort of monitoring the melding had left him as hungry as his patient.
“Since you ask for my advice …,” he began.
Whispr spoke between mouthfuls. “I haven’t.”
“Since you ask for my advice,” Chaukutri repeated more forcefully, “I am telling you now. As a friend who would not sell