I had this idea while watching the opening credits for the millionth time. Out of everything that changes Adam's facial hair and hair style never do. This might seem little, but things like that can be huge grounders when everything else is in upheaval. So I started thinking about what would happen if an intern not responsible for his augmentation progress or physical healing was assigned to his case. Suddenly, Nora. Now, I haven't finished the game yet, I only just got back to Detroit from China, so please no spoilers in any comments. Thanks!
Nora clutched her pocket secretary nervously, chewing on her lip as she glanced around the office. It was dim, secluded, and cluttered in a way that suggested a state of emergency frozen in time. The door clicked suddenly open and a very tired-looking woman slipped inside, giving Nora the shadow of a smile as she sat down across from her.
A young medical student interested since she was ten with animatronics, Nora was quite simply cut out for the augmentation business. Her teenage years had been spent in LIMB clinic waiting rooms watching patients and surgery prep as long as she could before they were ushered through the doors. Though she held no animosity towards those who got augmented for show or pleasure, her real fascination lay with those whose lives could be healed by the weaving of wire with DNA. Several times she'd witnessed a patient go in limping, supporting himself on crutches, and return a few weeks later walking confidently on his new leg. She'd watched the metal capture and refract the lights of the LIMB clinic and felt simultaneously proud and relieved beyond measure, as though she was the augmented person and the surgeon all at once.
Two years ago she'd applied for the beginnings of a complex internship with Sarif Industries, and for the past sixteen months she'd been working in their lowest ranks, studying specs and experiments and wiring until her eyes ached with screen strain.
As huge as Sarif was, her internship was unpaid so she spent the hours she wasn't crashing with sleep deprivation at her drugstore job. Busy though her life was, she got meals through Sarif, her job paid for her tiny apartment, and she had enough time to call her mom once a week during her commute. The animatronics, the chance at a job following the completion of her internship, and the ultimate promise of getting to work with actual augmentation patients fueled her in a way the hypostims never did.
Then the attack happened. She'd heard about it on the news, a plunging of guilt settling in her gut like a clot. She was supposed to be at the factory helping with the menial tasks while the higher-ups were preparing Dr. Reed for transport. The only reason she wasn't—the only reason she hadn't died in the attack with everyone else was because she had overslept.
A glitch in the power grid by her apartment threw off her clock and by the time it hummed back online she was three hours late. She'd tripped over herself getting ready, trying desperately to get her sobs under control, sure beyond anything that she was going to lose all chances at actual work with Sarif. Her dreams were dissolving in a mist before her as she sprinted down the dingy stairs, but before she could punch in the code to exit the building the dusty television to the right flickered on with an emergency broadcast. Images of explosions flared fever-bright behind a red banner that declared Sarif under attack.
She'd run to the scene against all better judgment, only the black-clad arm of a SWAT officer slamming across her chest as she sprinted up stopping her. His mechanical fingers glistened back orange light as they wrapped firmly around her arm. "You can't go in there miss, the entire facility's been compromised."
Standing mouth agape, silent tears went down her cheeks and she gasped what breath she could, shaking her head and covering her mouth with both hands as the officer gentled his grip and guided her back towards and ambulance busy with no-one since no-one had survived. They treated her for shock and she'd been holed up in her apartment as much as she could since, nervously consuming every detail of news she found until very late on a night three weeks later her phone had rung.
She startled, sitting up groggily and snapping on her lamp, fumbling for the comm device. "Hello?"
"Miss Caria?"
"Yes," she said, clearing her throat and pulling the thin screen from her ear long enough to glance at the ID. It was blank. "Who's calling?"
"This is Dr. Vera, with Sarif Industries. I understand you were an intern working with their manufacturing and development branches before the attack, but it says in your file that the culmination of your education was to be three months with patients undergoing procedure, is that correct?"
Nora felt her chest seize up and her teeth clicked together once before she swallowed and finally got the words out. "I-yes that is correct. I was under the impression that my internship was canceled—that no-one…" she choked on the words, realizing for the first time that she still hadn't dealt with anything that had happened. She'd made friends with some of the scientists, and the news reports proclaimed everyone dead except for two traumatized workers and one of the guards. One had died in surgery and the other had fallen off the grid. She had no idea who was left, other than David Sarif himself who'd come forward with a statement only a few days ago.
"These are extenuating circumstances miss Caria," Vera said gently, though her voice was firm enough to pull focus. "We've found ourselves in dire need of help, staff-wise and you have proven yourself unceasingly loyal. Your screenings when we brought you onto our internship were incredibly high for discretion and honesty, and that's what we need right now. I am sending an address to your Sarif pocket secretary. Please meet me there immediately. Bring nothing with you, and be sure to lock your apartment down, you will not be returning to it anytime soon."
The line disconnected and Nora sat stunned for several fluttering heartbeats before she sprung out of bed and pulled a t-shirt and black slacks on. She shrugged on a black coat and hopped into her boots, reaching for her Sarif access card before hesitating. She wasn't sure she should look like she was heading for Sarif at all. Last second she grabbed it and her ID and slipped them into a hidden pocket, just in case.
"Miss Caria, thank you for coming in so late." Dr. Vera sat back in her chair, pressing a few buttons on her keyboard before leaning on her desk like it was the only thing reminding her how to stay upright. "I apologize for the cryptic nature of the message but we've only recently discovered the information leak that allowed the attack in the first place and it's very important that our patient's location not be discovered. We're not preparing a death notice since David does hope he can return to his post eventually, but for now it is best that those who attacked have no idea there may yet be a survivor."
Nora swallowed, forcing herself to put the pocket secretary in her lap and stop clenching on it before she broke the screen. "Can I ask what exactly I'm here for?" she said.
Vera's lips pressed together and her brow furrowed, as though unsure of how to deliver the information. She sighed. "Nora, what I'm going to ask you to do is placing one of the most important surviving assets of this company in your hands." She hesitated, and Nora felt her stomach knot itself up further. Vera rubbed her eyes and then got wearily up, motioning Nora to follow. "It'll be easier to show you."
Doctor Vera led her into the hall and then down a corridor, passing empty surgical suites and supply rooms. When she stopped it was in front of an intensive observation ward, its one occupant mostly obscured by the two guards posted by the door. Vera motioned for Nora to stand next to her in front of the bullet-proof glass, and she obeyed, peering in at the subject lying on the bed.
She covered her mouth to keep her composure. Never had she seen such extensive augmentation done, and only his upper-half was visible. Most of him was obscured by white bandages, and an oxygen mask was one of a medusa of wires tangled around what was left of his living flesh. An IV split the skin near his throat, invading damaged arteries. Both arms were gone, replaced by the skeletal metal and hydraulic tissue of Sarif prosthetics.
"Do you recognize him?" Vera asked gently, drawing Nora out of her shock. She shook her head. "His name is Adam Jensen. He probably signed some of your release papers near the end of your screening to become an intern—he's David's head of security and he is one of two left alive." She looked into the room, her brow creasing. "Barely. In the last few weeks Sarif stabilized and then augmented him in more ways than I'm authorized to tell you, and tonight he finally made forty-eight hours without some kind of cardiac distress or respiratory arrest."
Nora swallowed, crossing her arms, watching the pull of muscles in Adam's neck as he worked to breathe. "Doctor, what is it exactly you want me to do?" she asked, catching Vera's eyes.
Vera sighed. "Per protocol he's no longer priority in this location. The emergency personnel that we've had monitoring him are no longer needed, and with everything that's happened they are obligated to go elsewhere. From here on out he's going to receive clinical watch, the best care Sarif can buy and constant physically theraputical monitoring until he's ready to go home. All that and a twenty-four-seven armed guard and cloak on his location. There isn't even much left to do with his augments."
She glanced down, folding her arms. "But he will be alone." She looked up. "Adam is more than David's head of security, more than just a witness we need alive. He's one of David's best friends and he is the first human in augmentation history to undergo so much of it, especially without conscious consent. In all the whirr about keeping his body alive I'm afraid too many of us have forgotten about his spirit. I want you to sit with him. Be there when he wakes up. I know you have basic medical and emergency training, and if you have to, use them. But you're here on special request of David Sarif on my recommendation."
Nora blinked, staring into the room, trying to process. Out of all the things she'd imagined doing, this was certainly not it. "Just—sit with him?" she asked. "Doctor, I don't know how to deal with psychological trauma he should have a therapist, a doctor."
"Nora, why did you write your application essay on veteran augmentation?"
She glanced at Vera, surprised by the question. "Because I think it's the most wonderful part of what this technology lets us do. Healing has an entirely new meaning now. I liked to see people get their lives back."
"That's why I want you, not a therapist. Jensen may see a therapist when he wakes up if he desires one, but I think he's had too much tampering from doctors he didn't authorize already. He just needs another person in there with him, someone to help him process. You understand the science but you care about the people. David knows Adam better than anyone, and he thinks you can help. David would be here himself if he could, but after the nature of the attack he can hardly risk being in the same building as our only viable witness."
"I don't know what to do," Nora said weakly, gripping the sill of the window and staring in at her new ward. Vera hadn't exactly given her a choice, but Nora wasn't sure she wanted one. Being faced with the ugly, painful side of augmentation was jarring, but overpowering that was her compassion for him. The white and silver of the room only enhanced the alienation of his environment, and she felt a spear of pity.
"Just be with him. Read to him, if you like. When he wakes up try talking to him. He isn't as hard as his profile makes him sound. You'll sleep in the room next to his, and you'll shower in the adjacent clean room. Your meals will be brought in with his, though he won't be receiving solid food for another few days at least. If you need to contact anyone you may not do so inside this building and you may not speak about any of this with them. I am sorry to do this to you, but we simply have no-one left. Jensen, he's important."
Nora glanced at Vera, and thought she saw something like guilt in the doctor's eyes. She took a deep breath, turning her gaze on Jensen, trying to calm the clash of emotions in her chest. "Okay." She nodded. "I'll try."