Machine Man (serial)

The next day, Carl wheeled me through the corridors of Research Division to the Repository. There was not much talking. While waiting for an elevator, he said, “I was really relieved to hear Ms. Banks is recovering,” and I didn’t say anything, because I hated him.

Like most doors in Better Future, the Repository was protected by an electronic lock. You couldn’t go to the bathroom in this place without swiping first. I think it had less to do with keeping unauthorized people out than monitoring where authorized people went. “I don’t have my pass,” I said. This was kind of an accusation, because I’d had it before Carl shot Lola. They had taken it while I was sedated, along with my fingers and legs.

“That’s okay.” Carl swiped his own card. The lock’s display blinked a friendly green. I was surprised, because as far as I knew, we did not grant lab access to random security guards. Carl had special access.

He turned the handle and the door opened. Until this moment, I had not really believed they would let me have my legs back. I had been bracing myself for Cassandra Cautery to slide out from a doorway, look sympathetic, and say there was a last-minute problem. But Carl just wheeled me inside.

It was a large room, with many shelves. On slabs of gleaming steel lay half a dozen sets of legs in various stages of completion. My Contours, the set I’d been forcibly removed from, were amongst them. To my right was a smorgasbord of fingers. Next to them, the hands. I was not really happy with the hands. So far I’d been unable to come up with anything I could honestly say was a clear improvement on Nature. It was frustrating, because I had some great arms, ready to go. Some really great arms.

Carl said, “Should I fetch you a sweater?”

I jumped a little. I’d forgotten he was here. “What?”

“You’re shivering.” He pointed to my arms. It was true.

“Oh,” I said. “No, thanks.”

56.