Machine Man (serial)

“I understand,” Cassandra Cautery said. “They’re your parts.” She spread her arms. “What’s to get? They’re your parts.”

I nodded. “My parts. Exactly.”

“I had a sister once. She used to borrow my clothes. I’d be looking for this one particular belt, and she’d walk in wearing it.” She shook her head. “It drove me insane.” We were in her office again. This time she was on the sofa. Her office had a sofa. I may not have mentioned that earlier. It was green leather. Also her office was very spacious, one wall was glass, and the shelves were lined with thick red and green books. Some kind of trophy acted as a bookend on the top shelf. The place had a quiet, musty feel I would not have naturally associated with Cassandra Cautery. “And that was just clothes.”

“Right,” I said.

She sighed. “You know who I’m mad at?”

I nodded. “Lola.”

She hesitated. “No, Dick.”

“Dick?”

“Your boss. Dick Peters.”

“Oh.” I could never remember that guy. “Why?”

Cassandra Cautery leaned forward. “You know it was Dick who authorized Carl’s arms.”

I looked away, because this did not sound very true. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“It was.” Silence. “Charlie.” I looked at her. She had her hands together, as if about to pray. “I will fix this. You’re my brain. Anything that upsets you, I’ll fix.”

“How?”

“Name it.” She leaned back. “What do you want me to do?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I eyed her. She seemed genuine. “Well…” And then I said something I’m not very proud of.

72.