Machine Man (serial)

The door handle clacked open and in walked the Manager. I was a little disappointed. The way Cassandra Cautery was acting, I expected a man with lightning crackling around the shoulders of his tailored suit, trailing weeping virgins. And he was in a suit, and I guess it was probably tailored, but otherwise he looked very normal. If I had been buying a car, and this guy walked out of the salesroom, I would not have been surprised.

“Dr. Neumann.” He came at me with his hand outstretched and his teeth exposed. His hair was very neat. I wouldn’t have thought you could get hair to sit like that, not without some kind of industrial solvent. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Something to eat?”

“No, thanks.” I shook his hand. This lasted a while, and he smiled at me the whole time. I felt nervous.

He looked at my legs. “Now, what’s the protocol here? Do I offer you a seat?”

“No. I’m comfortable.”

“Of course you are. You know what? Let’s all stand.” Cassandra Cautery, who had popped out of her chair when the Manager walked in and was now in the process of lowering herself again, arrested her descent. “What do you think, Cassie?”

“I love to stand,” she said. Cassie. I would never look at her the same again.

The Manager walked to the window and drew back the drapes. I squinted against the sudden glare. I could barely make out his face. “I have to tell you, Dr. Neumann, it’s a thrill to meet you. I’ve been across your project from the very beginning. We have our fingers in many pies, of course, a large number of very speculative pies, but yours is the one that captures my imagination. You know what I see? I see a man taking a stand. A man who refuses to let himself be defined by anyone or anything else. Nature dealt you a hand, and you, you tossed it back. You said no. You said: I decide who I am. I decide the limit of my capabilities. I will be not what I was made, but what I make.”

“That’s it,” I said. “That’s it exactly.” I wondered if I had got the Manager all wrong. Maybe he was like me: misunderstood.

“I could not be prouder to count myself as one of your supporters.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “So. Let’s talk super-soldiers.”

86.