Machine Man (serial)

Her name was Lola Banks. She was twenty-four and studying prosthetics part-time. I learned this as she took me through her selection of artificial legs. “Now, this is entry-level,” Lola said. “I’m showing you this just so you know what’s out there.”

The lower section was a pole, exactly like a crutch. The top was a metal bucket.

“That’s the socket,” Lola said. “Don’t underestimate the socket. Ninety percent of your satisfaction with the prosthetic will derive from how well you fit the socket.”

I looked at her. Most people would have said: how well the socket fits you.

“But you don’t want that.” She pulled it from my hands. “Check this out.”

It resembled a real leg, if you squinted. There was a band of metal around the knee and a foot with odd, flat toes.

“You can put a shoe on it. And I can tell from your face that you don’t think it’s very attractive, but imagine it under long pants. See the fullness? That gives you a more natural look. You get practiced in this baby, most people won’t know you’re packing plastic until you take off your pants.”

I returned the leg. “I don’t really care about a natural look.”

Lola’s breath caught. “Really. Well, let me… just a minute.” She came up with something black and lightweight. The foot was comprised of arched prongs, like skis. “This is an Endolite Echelon on a microprocessor-controlled adaptive knee. Gives you multi-axis rotation, polycentric swing, maximum energy return. That heel, that’s carbon polymer. It’s the same model the Olympics banned because they deemed it held an unfair advantage over meat legs.” Her eyes searched mine. “You don’t seem excited.”

“It’s nice. It’s just… I was hoping for something a little more…” I searched for the word. “Cutting-edge.”

“Ha!” said Lola, her eyes lighting up. I realized I had made a pun. I have noticed that people in the medical profession have dark senses of humor. To them, a joke is never complete until it includes a defiled corpse, or spray of blood. “No, seriously. This is the best we have.”

“Oh,” I said. “Can I think about it?”

“Sure,” said Lola Banks. She began gathering up her legs. When she left, I didn’t notice. I was already thinking about the lab.

7.