Machine Man (serial)

Carl walked Lola and me to a supply elevator and swiped his ID card. I found this interesting, because a moment ago, Carl’s hands had looked like blocks of stone. Now they split into two thick fingers, supple enough to grasp the tag around his neck. It seemed they could separate into at least four digits, then come together to deliver a punching force. That wasn’t a bad idea, for security guard hands. It’s what I would have done, if I’d designed them. Which I hadn’t.

“This opens in the parking lot,” Carl said. “Then you’re on your own.”

Lola and I shuffled inside. Lola said, “Thank you, Carl.”

“I’m not doing you a favor. I’m paying my debts.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. “And, Carl, I’m sorry.”

The elevators doors began to close, but Carl raised a hand to send them back. His fist was a block of solid metal again. “Pardon me, Dr. Neumann?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“Well…”

“For asking them to get rid of me? Is that what you mean?”

“Ah…”

“For making them take away my prosthetic arms, because you didn’t want nobody to use your parts but you? That’s what you’re talking about? The time I spent in a bed with a button to push with my foot when I needed someone to help me go to the bathroom?”

“Carl—”

“It’s in the past, Dr. Neumann.” Carl lowered his arm, releasing the elevator door. I heard the thin whine of servo-magnetics. “I have my own parts now.”

100.