Machine Man (serial)

It was five weeks before I heard from Lola Banks. I tried to call her, many times. But the hospital was not an authorized number, so I had to ask reception to connect me, and whenever they did, it rang out. I began to suspect that reception was being deliberately obstructive. Finally I jury-rigged a packet-disguised VoIP connection from my workstation, and sure enough, when I did that, the hospital switch answered right away.

“Charlie!” said Lola. She sounded robotic, because my computer was untangling her audio from a data stream that otherwise looked like a really long joke email. But there was unmistakable delight in her voice, and I felt relief. It had been a month and she hadn’t called me; I’d started thinking I must have kissed her the wrong way, or she’d changed her mind, or something. I don’t know. “I’ve been calling and calling!”

“You have?”

“Yes! They always tell me you’re busy and I have to leave a message.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s weird.”

“And I called your home, but your answering machine filled up. Are you screening?”

“No. I just haven’t been home.”

“Since when?”

I had to think about this. “March.”

There was silence. “I think you need to get out of there, Charlie.”

“Why?” I went to scratch my cheek and missed. I looked at my hand. I wasn’t wearing my index finger, that was why.

“I just think it would be a good idea.”

“Well… okay.”

“I’m going to give you an address,” Lola said, and I reached for a pen, with the hand that had fingers.

33.