Didn't Listen
Everyone at Sarif industries read and heeded the email but Adam. Everyone. Even Pritchard.
Flu shots available, it read. Surgeon general warns of signs of a particularly nasty strain this fall, so get vaccinated people!
Adam deleted it without looking. If it didn't have David's name in the header in direct address to him he tended to click them off into cyberspace. Usually company-wide emails had something to do with a potluck or company deadline or something else that really didn't concern him. If his services were specially needed, David told him personally.
Adam sneezed, and Pritchard shot a look at him over the computer screen like Jensen had just dumped a bucket of spiders on his desk.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Pritchard griped, one eyebrow raised skeptically. "We do need stealth and you're looking a little clunkier than usual."
"I'm fine, Pritchard," Adam snapped, crossing his arms. "Maybe if you let the janitor in here once in a while instead of treating it like a CPU graveyard it wouldn't be so dusty."
"Oh yes, because lungs outfitted to handle toxic gas can't handle a little dust. You're sick, Jensen," Pritchard retorted, unplugging the new software he'd been programming with an aggressive yank. He held it out to Adam and the cyborg took it, snatching it up with an irritated click.
"I don't get sick."
"Sure you don't. Just try not to give it to the gang leader—they might be able to trace everything back to the one person in Detroit who didn't get vaccinated," Francis called after him as he left. Adam ignored him, tucking the tech into his pants pocket and buttoning the flap so it wouldn't fall out.
The mission was a quick in and out. Adam had his tranq rifle on his back, but he wasn't planning on using it. In, cloak, plant the transmitter Pritchard had just coded, out. The problem was on his way out his power cell ran out a split second faster than was ideal and his cloak shuddered off just as he dove for an air duct. He made more noise than he'd intended and had to crawl several feet in, shuffling around so he could watch. He lay there breathing heavily, hands over his mouth to muffle the sounds. He was not normally so easily winded. Far from it. As he listened to the warning shouts and startled swearing, he ducked his head a little lower and didn't move a muscle. His heart was pounding hard against the floor of the duct. It wasn't that he couldn't take the guys if they found him. It was that his battery cells clearly needed maintenance if they were charging that slowly and he was supposed to avoid being seen. The entire mission would bust if he was noticed.
"What was that?"
"I don't know, sweep the area."
Adam cursed silently, inching slowly backwards, hoping he could get out before they could notice the grate he'd left open. He couldn't risk going after it and slipping it shut. The movement would definitely attract attention.
He was almost out when a hand over his mouth was just too late to stop the sneeze. His eyes went wide as there was an exclamation down the grate and a head dropped into view, mouth open to sound the alarm. He whipped out his stun gun and shot down the vent, hitting the guard full in the face. The man twitched twice and fell silently to the ground. Adam breathed a sigh, snapped the gun closed, popped an energy gel into his mouth to boost his cloak, and got out as fast as he could possibly go.
When he collapsed into the back of the VTOL Malik was giving him a skeptical look over the back of her chair, one eyebrow up. "What happened in there? You look pale."
"Nothing. Bad timing, that's all. I wasn't discovered, boss'll get what he wants."
Malik didn't look appeased. "Jensen, you're still breathing heavy. I know you were running but it wasn't that far. Are you okay?"
He waved her off. "Too many energy gels," he said, even though that didn't make any logical sense. "I'm fine."
He was not fine. Waking up the next morning he was shivering and initially thought his thermostat must be broken. Hugging himself and pulling on a sweater, Adam slumped with aching muscles into the kitchen to check the temperature readings. They were at a comfortable seventy three. He frowned, tapping the glass panel with a skeptical finger before sighing. He needed to get to work. David had already gone for the night by the time the mission had been over the day before, so Adam had only sent him a report. Apparently the boss wanted a debrief in person as well.
Adam slunk into his bathroom and splashed his face with water, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't feel like showering. Come to think of it, he didn't even feel like being upright. He brushed his teeth, finished getting dressed, and left. By the time he got to work his entire body hurt, even the fringes of his implants. His head had started throbbing, and not even his HUD glasses helped much. Only in David's office did he feel even remotely better and that was because the place was constantly mood-lit, even in daylight.
"Pritchard said you almost gave away our position last night, what's going on Ad-" David said, hearing Adam approach but not actually turning around. When he did turn around he stopped mid-word, sitting forward in his chair. "Adam, you look terrible," he said bluntly.
"Thanks boss. Is this really why you wanted to see me?" Adam asked, folding his arms, though it was more because he was cold and tired and trying to keep himself conscious.
David got up and walked around the table, his brow furrowed. "No, I called you in because I wanted to get your side of what happened. A report didn't quite do it when Pritchard was yapping off about how you needed a performance review if you couldn't handle a simple in and out. I thought he was full of hot air, as usual, but something is going on," he said, his voice dipping dangerously into I'm actually concerned territory. He went up to Adam and peered at him in a way that made Adam feel like backing up.
"Pritchard's never happy with my 'performance' no matter how it goes. You know that," he reasoned evenly. "Boss, look no offense but you're a little too close for comfort. Mind telling me what you're looking for?"
"Rejection around your visual implants," David said, backing up to a comfortable distance and planting his hands on his hips. "Are you having rejection symptoms and ignoring them?" he asked, his tone scolding.
"What? No! It's been almost two years, if my body was going to ditch the implants it would have tried at least a year ago."
"All the same, you should probably go to LIMB clinic, see what they have to say. Your body did take to the augments unnaturally well—there may be delayed irritation."
Adam sighed. "I'll go to the clinic if I have to but right now all I really want to do is finish up here and get back to my office. I need to go over the security logs from last night and I have two new potential guards to review."
David waved a hand, returning to his desk. "The security logs are clear and the guards can wait. We're not that short staffed right now. You need to go to a clinic, this could be serious, son."
"Why?" Adam snapped, feeling irritable as his headache ate through the dark of the room. "Because I sneezed in an air vent and almost got caught? Is this some elaborate revenge plan from Pritchard because I nabbed his Cyberboost stash?"
David's eyebrows went up and he chuckled. "So that was you."
Adam pressed his lips together.
"Look, Adam. I know Francis can be annoying but you guys do work well together and you are kind of two halves of my security whole. I need you to mesh when you can, all right? Honestly I think Frank was worried about you, in his own way. And now I can see why. You look sick, son. You're too pale and if I didn't know better I'd say you have a fever, both of which are signs of implant rejection. Now with someone like me who has minimal work that kind of thing can be put off. But with you—"
"I know," he huffed. "Half my body's wire now. I get it."
"More than half, and quite a bit of it is laced into vital organs." David was sitting forward with his hands laced on his desk, the tone of his voice somber. "I just want to make sure you're healthy."
"Fine. I'll go to the clinic. I was thinking about having my sentinel implant and internal batteries looked at anyway."
David frowned. "Why? Were you injured?"
"No, but my batteries died faster than they should have which is why I was stuck in that situation at the plant to begin with. Today I'm aching, but it's not regular muscle soreness. I must have torn something getting away and the sentinel didn't fix it."
David's brows drew together and he squinted, as though something was clicking. "Adam, did you get my email about the flu strain?"
"Yeah, probably. Why?"
"Did you get the vaccination?"
"No. Didn't think I needed it."
David groaned, leaning back in his chair and covering his eyes with his metal hand. "Adam, the sentinel implant is designed to heal severely damaged tissue and prevent excess blood loss. It doesn't stop you from getting sick!"
Adam hesitated, folding his arms self-consciously. "It—it doesn't?"
"No! That's all up to your immune system, and with the flu bug that's out this year no-one's ready for that. It's no wonder your battery cells ran out. They're charged by your living tissue which is why the cyberboost bars work. Right now you're running on half-speed at best." David almost laughed. "Skip the clinic and go straight home. You're not rejecting the augments, you're sick."
"I can't be—"
"Adam," David said pointedly, leaning over his desk and staring at him. "You. Are. Sick. Go home until you've been without a fever for at least twenty four hours. I don't want to risk it mutating inside you and giving it to someone else who has actually had the vaccine."
"Boss—"
"Go. This is not up for negotiation, Adam. Go home."
Adam sighed, turning and going out the door.
When he got back to his apartment he felt utterly exhausted. Just the walk from Sarif back to his place had felt like ten miles. And he was too warm. He was still shivering as he peeled his shirt over his head, but he was sweating too and his face felt dry. He swallowed painfully, trudging apathetically into the kitchen. He ran some water and drank out of his cupped hands, too lazy to get out a glass. When he finished he stood there leaning against the counter and staring out at a frankly beautiful day. The sun was out, it was an easy 66 degrees, and the green of the rooftop gardens and private terraces bred a little life into the golden city. It was a shame he felt like death. He went to his work table and slumped down, fiddling with the delicate gears of an antique clock he'd been cleaning and intending to put back together. He'd started the project four months ago.
He tried to work on it, but his headache was getting worse so he went back to his bathroom and swallowed a few pain pills, something he hadn't done since the last time he'd been shot. His head throbbing, he slumped face-first into his bed, clicking the remote to close the blinds. The sunlight felt nice on his back, but it was not helping his headache.
When he woke again he was shivering and he felt distinctly nauseous and weak at the same time. He realized he hadn't eaten all day. He glanced up at the bowl and half-empty cereal box on his dresser and debated if getting up was worth it. He decided it wasn't. He was just about to close his eyes again when the fuzzy request of an infolink call came through.
"I don't mean to come by all I told you so, Jensen, but, well. I did tell you."
"What do you want, Pritchard?" Adam groaned, his voice barely above a growl.
"Thought you could use a few things, but if you'd rather suffer in silence then by all means."
"You brought me—"
"Painkillers, a fever dampener, electrolyte supplements, and soup. You're welcome. Now before I decide to place my limited charity where it deserves to go and drop this off at a homeless shelter let me in. Or would you prefer I hack your security panel?"
Adam opened his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows, staring into his rumpled pillow. "You're outside of my apartment?"
"Yes. And I don't have arms of steel, so come let me in before I dump this on the floor and leave."
Adam fumbled for the secondary security panel installed by his bed. He put a code in and heard the distant click of the door unlocking. "Let yourself in. I'm in the bedroom."
"You're too kind." Pritchard's tone was flat and Adam heard him end the link and open the door. It hissed shut behind him with a friendly click. Moments later and Pritchard was standing like a ruffled scarecrow at the foot of Adam's bed. Adam glanced up at him through his sunglasses, plopping his head back down.
"The glasses in this cave, really? The least you can do is look at me," Pritchard exclaimed, moving to the dresser and dumping the armful of supplies onto it.
Adam squinted, clicking open only one of the lenses so he could glare at the hacker before clicking the shade closed again.
"Very mature," Pritchard mumbled, hands on his hips.
Adam sniggered a little, his grin half smirk.
"What is so funny?"
"Nothing I didn't know I could retract one at a time. I'm going to remember that."
Pritchard rolled his eyes. "Like a child with a touch pad."
"You lose a bet with Malik?" he re-directed, shuffling around and pulling his pillow into his chest so he could prop his chin on it. He was turned so he could see Pritchard without really moving.
"No. Contrary to your opinion I can be nice sometimes. Besides, with you here my job gets harder so it's in my best interest to get you back to work as soon as possible."
"Good to know I'm missed already," Adam snorted. "You're not worried I'm going to get you sick?"
"Unlike you, I actually read company emails. They carry time sensitive, important information."
"Yeah, the Men of Sarif pin-up calendar photoshoot was really pressing. Good to know you're so into company spirit."
Francis colored. "That was for charity. It's good for the public to see that we are proud of our work and like to give back."
Adam sniggered again, but this time it turned into a dry, painful cough that had his back muscles seizing up harsh and tight.
Prichard didn't move for several long moments, but when Adam's coughing didn't let up he disappeared with a furrowed brow and returned a minute later with a glass of water. He dug through the things he'd brought and plunked a blue tablet into the liquid where it dissolved in a violent fizzing. He knelt next to Adam and held out the glass.
Adam took it and pulled a drink to get the coughing under control, though it tasted awful and he grimaced, shaking his head and setting the glass on the floor by his bed for a moment. "Ugh," he made a face. "What was that?"
"The electrolytes. It's a high energy mix, should replenish vitamins and help keep your power cells topped up."
Adam wondered how sick he must look for Pritchard to get through an entire sentence without mocking him. "Thanks," he managed, forcing himself to take down more of the foul liquid. He scraped his tongue against his teeth and shuddered as he managed to take down the last dregs of it.
Pritchard took the glass without prompting and rinsed it out in the bathroom, filling it with regular water and returning to Adam's side.
"Do you want the soup now?" he asked after Adam had taken a long drink, catching his breath. Adam set the glass back on the floor and curled onto his side, not really caring how he appeared to Pritchard at the moment. He could feel the tech's eyes on him, and he realized Francis probably hadn't realized how extensive the reconstruction and scarring on Adam's torso really was.
"No," he said, wincing as another pang hit his stomach. He was almost regretting drinking the water, but he was so thirsty…
Francis was still watching him, and when he glanced up at the tech's face he saw actual muted shock. Maybe even a tint of horror.
"The reports didn't do it justice, huh Pritchard?" Adam rasped, a hint of triumphant malice to his tone. He knew even without his social enhancements that Francis was feeling immensely guilty for how he'd treated Adam the first few days he'd been back after the attack. The thin lines of scar tissue from where the glass and the beating from Namir had torn open his stomach and side were still visible, and though his augments were fully integrated and healed there were still suture sites and an odd wrap of flesh over implanted struts. Only Adam, David, Faridah, and Adam's doctors had really seen the lingering fingerprints of violence left on him. Everyone else had just read reports.
Prichard looked up suddenly as though he'd been startled, his expression withdrawing into something that tried to be guarded. "You should sleep," he said, tone clipped as he stood. "If you can't be bothered to get up yourself later I'll try to come back and make sure you don't starve to death, but no promises."
"Right. I would hate to tarnish your reputation." He tucked the pillow up under his head and rest everything on his partially folded arms. Prichard went briskly out of the room, but not before Adam caught his glance back and sobered expression. It was one thing for Pritchard to work as tech support when he was in the field—it was another entirely for the hacker to see Adam at home where the augments that seemed so like work tools were just as much a part of his home life. For Pritchard, it probably hadn't occurred to him fully how much Adam couldn't ever escape his work or the mark it had left on him. Francis could leave his keyboard at Sarif at the end of the day. Adam couldn't.
Not that Adam wasn't really at peace about it at that point. Sometimes he still had nightmares. Sometimes he still missed his old limbs. But the Sarif prosthetics and his new abilities were so comfortable and familiar he wasn't sure what he would do if given his old body back. He wasn't sure he wanted it back. He'd learned to walk, sit, move, carry himself, even fight completely differently and that was him now. He used to avoid using the arms in any way that wasn't completely necessary. He'd found them alien and sometimes repulsive, but now they were as comfortable as living flesh. He pulled his hand out from under his pillow and tucked his forearm on top, leaning his temple against it.
His head was still throbbing, but at least he didn't feel so violently cold and hot all at once anymore. He passed out again, but woke hours later shivering anew, his muscles seizing up completely against his will. Sometimes the shuddering was so hard it hurt and after twenty minutes of huddling under his blankets he was aching with actual muscle fatigue.
He turned his head with a wince, swallowing with a very sore throat. The clock built into his headboard said it was nearly nine at night. Moving slowly, taking the blanket with him, Adam wrapped it around his back and folded it up with his arms, hunching his shoulders as he went to the window and opened the digital blinds. The sky was dark and the warm glow of the golden skyline settled across his floor in bars. He sighed and realized he couldn't quite breathe through his nose.
He had intended to go to the kitchen, but instead he only made it to the couch and sat heavily down, staring listlessly at the silent TV. He wasn't sure what he'd been intending to do, only that he felt incredibly weak and knew it was probably because he hadn't eaten anything all day. Any real thought of food had him wanting to retch, though the water he'd had earlier was long gone from his stomach. He couldn't remember when Pritchard had stopped by but it had probably been at least four hours before. He sighed, eyes half closed. He just wanted to go into a coma until it was over. Not being able to breathe properly was a highly unwelcome addition to the already miserable symptoms. Slowly, he hunched over on the couch and drew his legs up, curling up with his back to the TV, closing his eyes.