Machine Man (serial)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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 hands with Lola and we were safe. I lay still, not wanting to disturb this bliss. But even when reality began to filter in, bringing with it complications like the fact that I was being pursued by a vengeful security guard with multifunction sledgehammer arms, things didn’t seem so bad. My problems weren’t more significant than the miracle of Lola telling Angelica last night: I love him. If I had Lola, everything else was solvable: I felt this very strongly. She was my independent variable.

On the ceiling above my head was a poster of a dinosaur. I sat up. 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. It was very small. Which meant—

I was not wearing my legs.

My toes went first: spasmed, locked. My foot curled back on itself. My calves turned to screaming steel and the fact that none of this was real made any difference. I threw back the covers and frantically 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. The painkillers have worn off, my brain whispered. It will hurt so much worse now.

“My legs!” I screamed. “I need my legs!”

109.