Machine Man (serial)

Faces appeared. They were grim faces, stained with soot, riding atop green scrubs and gray uniforms. They had hands, which reached for my body and tried to guide it back toward the operating theater. “Come on, Dr. Neumann,” said Jason, like I was a dog. “This way. Come on.” His eyes were red. His lab coat was torn.

“There’s a guy… hurt.”

“We’ll take care of it.” Jason took hold of my shoulder, the whole one, and tried to steer me. “Let’s get you back on the table.”

“Why?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I was just confused. We re-entered the operating theater, and two surgeons or paramedics or whatever they were moved to the man in green scrubs. “Is that guy dead?”

“On the table,” said Jason. Several of the people nearby began a discussion about the water falling everywhere; they were against it. A man began trying to sop up the bloodbath that was the table with plainly inadequate towels.. “You’re missing an arm.”

I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and turned to see a woman plunging the contents of a syringe into my veins. “What are you doing?” Before I reached the end of this sentence, I wanted to kiss her. She was beautiful and shiny and full of love. Everything was. It was a very good drug.

“Dr. Neumann. On to the table, please.”

“You’re kind of handsome,” I said.

“Forget the table,” said the man who was no longer sopping. “It’s too wet. Just get him to stand there.”

“Just stand here, please, Dr. Neumann.”

“Okay.” The rain stopped. People said: Ahhh. My legs felt cold.

“As still as you can. We’re going to do what we can here.”

“My legs are cold.” I leaned forward, to see them. People who were trying to do something to my planed shoulder yelped and told me not to do that. “They’re cold.”

“They’re wet,” Jason said. “It’s probably evaporation. Oh, wait. I see what you mean. Yes. We improved the tactile interface. I thought Cassandra Cautery told you.”

She had. I just hadn’t thought about what it meant.

“I know you never prioritized sensory feedback. But while you were gone, we found it really enhanced the user experience.”

I reached down with bloody fingers and touched my thigh. The metal felt cold. My fingers felt electric. I could not honestly say they felt like fingers. But they felt. They felt.

“In a lot of respects, it’s totally crude. We’re transmitting maybe a tenth of the full spectrum of nerve sensation. But still. It’s something.”

I had been right, before. The thing that was different about the Threes, it was everything.

“How is it?”

“Good,” I said. “It’s good.”

151.