L A
V I O L I N A
The sun shone transversely across the windowpanes of Angelica's stuffy and neutral hospital room, insufficiently uncontained by the blackout curtains that swept exquisitely over it. The light dragged monotonously through the room until they finally ceased upon the young cyborg's diaphanous features. She squirmed as if the light were prodding her indolently in the side. At last, Angelica opened her unforbearing eyes that appeared so like miniscule, faded purple opals, and lifted herself to her arms, gazing around the room with an air of insouciance. It was just as she had left it; plastically white, cold, and filled of next to no expression, as the doctors liked it. Angelica, however, did not
Steadily, the imperative girl dropped down to the floor on her feet, landing with as much grace as a lead-filled snowshoe, an adjective which additionally accumulated how she felt with the sun in her eyes and the frostiness of the bedroom. Her arms and legs were cumbersomely heavy and not at all exceptionally maneuverable; with a pang, she thought about how difficult it would be to retrain herself and get back to work, when the silver-wrought handle of her door clicked and turned, revealing two men in white coats. One was decidedly more friendly than his company, greeting Angelica with a propitious and pleasant smile, as the second man only glared at her through his spectacles, as if she were the remnants of Henrietta's room-clearing, a scene of bloody and horrific devastation.
"Dr. Bianchi..." she said softly. "And... Dr. Gilliani."
"Hello, Angelica," the amiable doctor replied, standing at her bedside with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. "How are you this morning?"
"Well, I feel all right, for the most part... My limbs are a little heavy," she said, voice delicate and timorous as she rubbed her eye blearily. "Dr. Bianchi, am I going to leave today? I'd really like to see Marco, he hasn't visited for such a long time..." The doctor glanced at his compatriot behind him, who began to nod, slowly. He turned back to Angelica.
"Yes, Angelica, you can leave today."
The young girl's face lit up instantaneously, yet was stifled by a yawn that she had no choice but to let out. Bianchi chuckled, and Angelica looked at him, beaming.
Gilliani, still grimacing darkly, stepped in Bianchi's place at that moment, assuming an expression of superiority as he stared the anything-but-fragile girl he was faced with. The smile disappeared from Angelica's face.
"However," he intoned, "you must relearn how to control your prosthetics. Most unfortunate, but nevertheless mandatory of the cyborgs. It will make learning to control your gun easier for you, and training, in theory, will progress more smoothly."
Angelica stared at him, perplexedly. "What...instrument will I play?"
"That is not up to me," Gilliani replied briskly, as if anticipating this question. "Your supervisor can determine that. Most of the cyborgs here can play violin, however."
With that, he departed, Bianchi following out after him.