7

Dim, dirty yellow light blooms in the darkness as I open my eye. The world begins swinging into something resembling focus. Even as blurry as it is, I recognize the Recovery room's ceiling. A muted shock penetrates the drug-induced haze I'm waking from as I feel both eyes blink. While I can't see out of it, I can feel an eye moving in what was an empty socket. My hand attempts to come up to feel at it, to see if it's real, but is stopped short. I try again and feel myself constrained by something wrapped tightly around me.

"Don't try to move yet," Gerhad says from the right side of the bed.

Turning to look at her, I see that the monitoring and IV equipment has been moved to that side. A glance around the room reveals no one else.

Still working at the monitors, she tells me, "Doctor Ido will be right in. And yes," she glances at me, "you have been restrained."

There's a surge of panic. I attempt to say something, but all that comes out is a dry, croaking cough.

"Before you ask, you'll be let out of them when we're sure you're not going to do something like trying to crawl out into the street naked." She turns to me and asks, "Now, how are you feeling?" There's no anger, as I expected, merely a warmth and concern.

I get the panic under control, clear my throat and manage to get out in a hoarse whisper, "You're sneaky."

Despite the near-sightedness blurring her face, I can hear the smile in her voice, "I can be, when the situation calls for it." In a more serious tone, "We think you might have suffered some kind of breakdown. Can you remember much of what happened?"

Distorted memories return, but I can recall most of it clearly enough. In a stronger voice, "I was angry, really angry. I decided… I dunno, that I'd had enough, of everything. I was leaving. Then you guys grabbed me. When Alita had her hand on my arm, it..." I wince as strong emotions rise up at the memory, "it felt like my arm was being ripped apart. I was suddenly back in that street, being torn apart."

There's the soft, warm sensation of her organic hand on my forearm, just below the restraints wrapping me as she asks, "You can feel that, right?"

I nod.

"You're arm is fine," she says reassuringly. "From the sound of it, you likely suffered some kind of flashback." She takes her hand away, "As for leaving, it is doctor Ido's professional opinion that you are in no condition to be roaming the streets. He's going to be keeping you here until you can walk out on your own, his words."

I'm not sure what I expected as a reaction, but them keeping me here to presumably continue to care for, wasn't it. After taking a moment to process that, "Okay. How long am I going to stay tied up?"

"Just for a little while longer, until we're sure you aren't going to have another breakdown like that last one."

Looking up at her, I consider that for a moment. Heaving a sigh, I say, "Alright." Briefly lifting my head a bit to look out the doorway, I can see through some of the windows in the main room that it's dark outside. It also gives me a glimpse of the sheet wrapped tightly around me, leaving my forearm exposed, holding me immobile. Across my chest is a strap anchored to the sides of the bed. "How long was I out?"

There's a noticeable hesitation before she answers, "This is the evening of the third day since we sedated you."

Due to the drugs that are still wearing off, it takes several seconds for that to sink in. "Shit," I mutter, closing my eyes. Three more days, and they still can't fix me. I'm not sure which possibility is worse; that I'm never going to leave here, or that I'll be tossed out on the street with only one arm left when they can't find any solutions. Opening my eyes, (I really have two eyes again?) I ask in a pained voice, "Was I really that bad?"

She straightens up and takes a deep breath. "Well, you didn't stop screaming until you were unconscious. On the up side, you have two eyes again. Doctor Ido put the cybernetic one in while you were out. It's not working, but it uses your body's natural extraocular muscles that controlled your organic eye, so it at least acts like a normal eye."

"Yeah," I croak out, glad for the change of subject, "I was surprised to feel it in there." Instead of getting clearer as the drugs wear off, my mind seems to be swirling with more confusion. "I- I don't understand..." The thought goes unfinished as my mind takes a sharp turn, unable to focus. I try to bring my hand up to rub at my forehead and am rudely reminded of the sheet tightly wrapping me. I grit my teeth together, attempting to remain calm as anger flares at being restrained.

"Good evening, Jason," doctor Ido says as he enters, "Hope you're feeling better today." He takes a position on the opposite side of my bed from Gerhad. "Sounded like you have a question."

I exhale slowly in frustration, "I did. I..." All the doubts and fears swirl around in a maelstrom inside my head. Nothing resembling a coherent thought will form. "I can't remember what it was." I can, actually, I just can't find the words to articulate the doubts that still fill my head. I'm swamped with a helpless, sorrowful feeling. There's also this incredible guilt over the stunt I pulled. At the time it had seemed like such a clear-cut course of action. Now, I'm not even sure what the hell I was thinking. I consider asking to be untied, but I'm fairly sure my asking isn't going to move that along.

"Hm," he says as he considers me with a thoughtful look. "Has nurse Gerhad filled you in on your current situation?"

"Yes." There's growing fear and frustration over how long I'm going to stay in these restraints.

Ido nods, "Good. I want you to know, you will be let out of those restraints when I'm certain you aren't going to try something stupid again, understood?"

I close my eyes briefly and swallow the pain, as well as the tears that threaten to come with it, "Yes." That voice in the dark of my mind whispers viciously, 'You just can't seem to stop screwing up, can you?'

"If you start acting in a manner that seems dangerous to either yourself or us," doctor Ido says with professional calm, "then, for your own safety, I'm going to have to keep you restrained." In a less serious tone, "That said, do you think you can refrain from trying to make off with any more of my blankets?"

Embarrassed, and a touch humiliated over being restrained, I stiffly answer, "Yes."

"Alright then, let's get you out of this." He and Gerhad undo the strap over my chest and carefully but quickly unwrap me from the tightly wound sheet. When they're done, I'm given my glasses and doctor Ido pulls up a stool to sit on, putting him closer to my level. "Now, are you hungry? Can we get you anything?"

I glance between the two of them, "I'm just a little thirsty."

Gerhad adjusts my bed to a sitting position and offers me a cup of water, but pulls it back as I go to reach for it. Looking at me sternly, she says, "If you throw this at us, you're going right back in those restraints."

My face warms in further embarrassment, I look her in the eyes and say quietly, "I'm not throwing anything at anyone." She nods and hands the cup to me, and I take a long drink out of it, feeling the cool water wash away the dryness.

When I'm done, doctor Ido asks, "Now then, how's the new eye feeling?"

I blink a couple times, still getting used to the feeling of an eye in a previously empty socket, "It feels fine. Still can't see out of it."

"I know," he says with a hint of frustration, "we were getting green lights on it's diagnostics, but just like your limbs, it's not picking up your own neural signals." He heaves a tired sigh, "Still, it's a new eye to fill that socket. Hopefully I can find a reason for why this is happening to you, and get it working." Pulling out a small pen-light of some sort, "Now, let's have a quick look."

He performs a short examination, checking for pain, swelling or any sign of trouble. Finding none, he has Gerhad hand me my glasses and he retakes his seat on the stool.

"Aren't you even curious to see how it looks?" he asks.

I close my new eye and gingerly reach up to rub at it, then look over at Ido, "Yeah, but I'm also not sure I want to."

"Nothing to be nervous about," Gerhad says as she hands me a small mirror, "it looks fine."

I accept the mirror and look into it. Sure enough, she's right. It looks damn near identical. "It might be my imagination, but I think the white is whiter than my old eye."

Ido has me turn towards him so he can see for himself. "Not seeing a noticeable difference myself." I'm getting the impression that his professional pride took umbrage at the idea that it might not be a perfect match.

I turn back to the mirror and look it over for a little longer. It's unexpectedly uplifting, seeing myself with two eyes again, even if the new one isn't working yet. It's like a step in the right direction, I guess.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ido leans back and gives me a brief appraising look, "We still need to finish that talk we started. Before that, however, I'd like to discuss Alita."

Pressure begins building inside my head, that feeling of being cornered, trapped. "Alright," I say without looking at him. I hand the mirror back to Gerhad, who puts it away.

"When I had her restrain you, it was obvious that something was very wrong." He pauses momentarily as if to gather his thoughts, "You told me before you didn't have a problem with cyborgs. I'm willing to venture a guess that this has changed. That's concerning for a number of reasons, not the least of which is what this can mean for your mental state, but also because this isn't just a clinic, it's also a home. One in which Alita also lives, and if your problems become too disruptive," he throws his hands up in a 'what can I do' gesture, "we're simply not equipped to deal with severe psychological problems for an extended period of time."

Somberly I nod and say, "Understood." Whispered in the back of my head, 'Now you have a line to cross. How long before you end up on the wrong side of it?' Self-destructive thoughts begin spinning through my mind. I momentarily squeeze my eyes shut and rub my forehead as if that'll rub them out of my head.

"Alright then," he says, looking almost as unhappy with this situation as I feel. "Alita will be returning soon, and it'll be dinner time. Do you think you can handle being in the same room with her?"

Trying to sound more confident than I feel, I answer, "Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Good. I know you haven't had much appetite these days, but I'd still like you to try and eat something as well."

It takes a moment for my brain to generate a coherent response, "I'll try." As Ido moves to get up, I ask, "Just outta curiosity, does Alita still think I'm trying to run some kind of scam or something?"

Rising to his feet, Ido glances at Gerhad. "None of us are entirely sure what to think, honestly." He loosely crosses his arms, looking thoughtful for a moment. He continues, with some hesitance, "Alita… she upset the balance of power in this city. This made her some powerful enemies. The worst of those enemies has made threats against people she cares about. While there's been no sign they'll make good on those threats, we're fully aware that they have the capability to do so." He shifts a little uncomfortably, "I'm afraid this, combined with the reckless actions of one rather under-handed reporter and an overly obsessed fan, has made her a bit… apprehensive. Please believe me when I say, she really doesn't mean you any harm. She's very protective of the people in her life, and this whole situation is just..." he seems to stuggle for the right term.

"Insane?" I finish for him. "I think I get it. I'd… heard stories." I stare off into space, my mind nearly spinning it's wheels trying to stay engaged when I just want to curl up and disappear. I briefly close my eyes and shake my head to clear it, "Is it true that someone she cared about was killed by these enemies?"

There's a lengthy silence in which the look on Ido and Gerhad's faces indicates a silent debate going on. Finally, Ido answers, "Yes. In fact, the people she's angered are also responsible for a good deal of suffering and death in this city."

A feeling of alarm brings my eyebrows down and together. I look back and forth between the two of them, "Sounds like I'm the one who should be apprehensive."

"The situation's a bit complicated," Gerhad says, "but you're as safe here as anywhere else in this city."

I stare at her for a second. Holding up the stump of my left arm, I say with a good dose of sarcasm, "Yeah, that's reassuring."

Putting her hands on her hips, she says with a shrug, "Best we can do, I'm afraid." Then the two of them leave to deal with other clinic-related matters.

It isn't long before Alita returns and I'm prepared to join them for dinner. They set me into the wheelchair and put a blanket over my lap. Then it's into the kitchen where Alita sits at the table with an empty plate in front of her.

She actually smiles a little upon seeing me. "How're you feeling?"

Not having expected her to be all that friendly towards me after melting down like I did, I fumble for a reply, "Been better."

Ido and Gerhad get themselves something to eat. They exchange a few words while doing so, and from the sound if it, I learn that Gerhad doesn't normally stay for dinner. Since my arrival, she's practically been living here for now in order to help with my care. My depression grabs hold of that and gnaws at it, making me feel guilty that I'm such a disruption to their lives. Ido takes a seat to my left, setting a glass of water down in front of me while Gerhad takes the chair to my right, placing a plate of food in front of me.

I thank the doctor and nurse as they settle in. Letting my gaze fall to the small amount of food on my plate, a wave of guilt compels me to say, "I feel like I should apologize to all of you for the way I acted. I…" My mind blanks on me, as it seems to so often when I become acutely aware of people staring at me. "I dunno," I finish quietly, "none of this feels real."

Everyone's quiet for a few heartbeats, then Gerhad gently pats my arm, "Try to focus on getting some food in you. You haven't really had much to eat since you got here," adding with a faintly teasing tone, "and I think you're starting to worry the doctor."

The sincerity in her eyes and the warmth in her voice seems to break through the isolation. I begin feeling more grounded, and I can't help but smile and chuckle. "Yeah, guess I should." I let out a deep breath as I silently give thanks for the food.

Dinner goes rather quietly. I listen as the others talk, mostly about some minor goings on in the neighborhood. There's mention of some friend of Alita's by the name of Koyomi, who is apparently involved in salvage work, procuring parts for Alita and her teammates. From the conversation, I pick up that this Koyomi also gave Alita a ride out to the Sheffield's farm.

At one point I drop food into my lap when my right hand fails to do exactly what I want. It's such a minor thing, but I experience a momentary flash of rage, almost flinging my plate into a nearby wall.

Gerhad seems to pick up on my sudden shift in emotional state, and asks, "You alright, Jason?"

After carefully picking the food out of my lap, I glare at the fork now sitting on my plate, and grate out with more anger than I'd intended, "I'm fine. I'm just… I used to be left-handed." I keep my focus on my plate, not wanting to see their expressions, still fighting to calm myself. Thankfully, they don't pursue the matter.

Despite my lack of any real appetite, I finish my food relatively quickly. The dishes are cleared away and I feel the mood in the room shift a bit. Knowing that there's going to be yet another interrogation in which my answers will be met by more disbelief, I wait, shoulders hunched protectively. Gerhad and Ido retake their seats, but Alita leaves the room. She quickly returns carrying my old electric razor and smartphone. As she takes her seat, the items are placed in front of her, near the center of the table. My wallet is added to the small pile. I stare at my belongings, wondering what's to come.

Ido takes note of the electrical plug on my razor, picking it up for a closer look, "Well, this doesn't look right. What sort of socket is this supposed to fit in?"

"Koyomi and I wondered the same thing," Alita says. She turns her attention to me and holds up a small plastic device, "Is this something you rigged up? It looks like an adapter."

"Yes," I answer listlessly. "I had to make my own electrical adapter for the outlets on the farm. But even with that, I couldn't get anything to work, even after I took the varying voltages and such into account."

Alita picks up my smartphone and turns it around in her hands before showing it to Ido and Gerhad, "Koyomi also spotted something missing from these items."

Gerhad carefully takes the phone from her and looks it over. With a perplexed expression she says, "There's no star of Zalem." She looks over at me, "You didn't make these yourself, did you?"

With a confused glance around at the three of them, I shake my head, "No, I can't make something like that. Why?"

Ido picks up my electric razor and turns it over in his hands studying it intently, "Everything the Factory puts out is stamped with a symbol of Zalem, a stylized four-pointed star." He gestures with my razor, "These devices were obviously manufactured. So, if there's no Factory mark on them," he carefully puts the razor back down on the table, "where did they come from? If they're re-manufactured by one of the little, privately owned outfits, why would they make them with electrical plugs that don't fit any outlets?"

"Koyomi already checked on that," Alita says, poking at my razor with an index finger, "There's no recognizable maker's markings on them." Her gaze flicks up from the razor, to me.

Wishing I could come up with something to say that they would believe, I merely stare at the razor and wallet sitting in the middle of the table. The three of them sit and watch me for a moment, possibly waiting for an answer I can't find.

Finally, Alita speaks, "Based on what I've seen so far, I'm willing to believe that you really aren't from around here. That's not to say I'm convinced that you're some sort of time traveler, however." She stares at me intently, as if to gauge my reaction, her expression softened somewhat by a trace of a smile.

Ido nods, "I'm inclined to agree, in light of what I've witness so far." He turns and looks at me over the top of his glasses, "I also have to agree that your being centuries old, is a bit far-fetched."

Sighing heavily, I ask, "Okay then. So… what now?" I glance around the table at them. At least I'm not being viewed as some sort of con artist, or crazy. I don't even want to think about what they do to people that would normally be institutionalized back where I'm from.

Gerhad holds up my phone, "Does this thing store data? Could there be something on it that might prove..." with a slight shrug, "anything?"

I consider it for a moment before answering, "It has a memory card, but all I ever did with it was take a few pictures while figuring out how to use some of it's functions. I suppose the operating system could tell you something, but you'll have to figure out how to get it working. The battery's been dead for months and I haven't been able to get it to recharge. If you can-"

"How about I do that right now," Ido interjects, "It shouldn't take me more than a few minutes, and if it can tell us something, so much the better."

"By all means," I say and Gerhad hands it over to him.

After he's gone, Gerhad offers Alita and I tea. We both accept. After putting some water on to heat, the questions resume.

Opening my wallet, Alita asks about some of the contents, specifically the one's with my picture on them. The driver's license is pretty self-explanatory. The only other picture-bearing card is my Veteran's Affairs ID.

I try to keep it brief, "That one allows me to go to any Veteran's Affairs clinic in the country- well, my country, and usually get help with most problems that might pop up now and again."

"What sort of problems did they usually help you with?," Gerhad asks.

With a vaguely dismissive gesture, I answer, "Medical problems, mostly, but sometimes other little emergencies that might crop up."

"Did it cost much?"

"It typically didn't cost me anything."

Gerhad's expression clearly conveys her doubt in my claim.

Alita turns the card over in her hands as she asks, "What does it mean, you being a veteran?" She looks up at me curiously, "Of what, exactly?"

"I'm a military veteran. U.S. Air Force." I still feel a twinge of pride, despite how my tour of service ended. I doubt it'll mean anything to them, though.

Alita's eyes widen in surprise, "You were a soldier?" I find this startling not just because I didn't think her eyes could get that much bigger, but because it seems like she actually believes me when I was certain she wouldn't.

Before I can respond, Ido sticks his head around the corner and interrupts, "Gerhad, Alita? Could the two you come here, and bring Jason." He goes to leave but quickly turns back, "Oh, and his razor, too." Then he disappears from sight.

Alita shares a brief look of confusion with Gerhad before picking up the razor and heading into the main room, followed by Gerhad pushing me in the wheelchair. We make our way past the movable barrier into the operating theater to see Ido standing on the other side of the operating table, in front of the small bank of monitors. Even from my low vantage point I'm able to see my smartphone, lying on that table, innards exposed. A thin cable with multiple tiny clips is attached to various points on the phone's interior components. Although I can't read what's on the monitors, I can tell enough to know they aren't showing much activity. We come around to Ido's side of the table and Alita holds out my razor to him.

While Ido takes the razor with a quick 'thank you', Gerhad looks over the monitors and asks aloud, "I don't understand, weren't you running some sort of diagnostic on that phone?"

Ido, having laid the razor on the table next to the device in question, looks over at her, "I have the diagnostic running now. Everything's hooked up, as you can see." With a glance at the monitors, "This is what I wanted to show you."

Alita comments, "Nothing's showing up."

Without looking up from connecting wires to the plug of the razor, he says, "Yes. I should be getting all sorts of readings. But that isn't all I wanted you to see." He glances over at his nurse, "Gerhad, if you would, take a look at the circuitry inside that phone?"

Both Alita and Gerhad move to the table and lean over the phone to get a better look at it. I sit quietly, unsure as to where all this is leading, and expecting the worst.

"It looks kind of… odd," Alita comments.

Gerhad gently lifts the device a hand's breadth for a closer look before saying, "It looks ancient. Look at the size of some of these components, they're huge!" She sets the phone back down and looks over at Ido in disbelief, "But the scans came back with nothing at all?"

Ido presses some keys on a keyboard under the monitors before answering, "Exactly," he gestures to a screen with an interface border and an otherwise blank image, "Just like with Jason here." He quickly presses another set of keys and says in a near mutter, "It's the same with the razor."

Alita looks down at the phone and back over at Ido, "So, wait, Jason and his property are invisible to your scanners?"

Ido takes a deep breath and lets out before turning to her, "Not strictly invisible. The imaging system is picking up something, but it's not recognizable and it's very faint. It could be easily mistaken for background noise or even an anomalous signal." He gestures towards the items on the table, "I tried to scan that phone before opening it, just to be sure I wouldn't break anything," he once again gestures at the blank monitor showing only the interface border, "and got nothing useful. So, I carefully opened it to hook it up for some scans, and noticed the rather primitive components." He steps closer to the table, crossing his arms as he looks down at the phone, "I'd have to take an even closer look, but I'm willing to wager that none of this was built using the nano-tech systems we would normally see." He glances up as he points closely at some part of the phone's interior, "Compared to what we normally use, you shouldn't be able to see most of these circuits without at least a microscope. Not if it were made by the Factory, at any rate. If this thing really is just a phone, the innards shouldn't be taking up so much space. And look here, at the size of this battery. It's massive for something like this. A battery that size should have held power for a lot longer than it apparently did. As Gerhad said, it's ancient, or it looks that way."

He fiddles a bit with the razor as he continues, "Just like with this electric razor just now, I tried running a number of signals through it, to try and get some kind of readings. There was absolutely no response." He shrugs, "There's nothing on imaging systems, or- well, just nothing. As with Jason, it's almost as if there's nothing there to get a reading on."

I experience an unsettling moment when all three of them turn and look at me in unison. Feeling suddenly, profoundly small and exposed, I blurt out, "I don't even know what's going on here."

"It's alright, Jason," Ido says as he disconnects the razor, "I believe you. This is just… strange."

At this point Ido asks Alita to take me out of the operating theater so he and Gerhad can deal with studying the two devices more closely. Alita obliges and wheels me out into the living area. Once I'm parked near a worn but comfortable-looking chair, she takes a seat on the couch across from me. She looks over in the direction of the operating theater for a couple of moments as if thinking. I watch her as she does so. I try not to stare, but I can't help agonizing over where things will go now. I had no idea anything like that was going to happen. Why is all of this happening at all, for that matter?

Finally, she leans forward and hands me my wallet. "Here, you should have this back."

Without meaning to, I hesitate before taking it from her outstretched hand. "Thanks," I say unhappily. I tuck the wallet under a thigh, beneath the blanket and look back over at her. I'm able to bring myself to look her in the eyes as I say, "I don't know what's happening to me." A clumsy attempt at articulating my ignorance about what all of this means or why any of it is even occurring.

Her steady gaze is unsettling. She chews lightly at her lower lip before responding. "I know. I can tell, you're just as much in the dark as the rest of us. And, I'm sorry about getting so angry the way I did. It's just been..." she stares off into space as if momentarily lost in thought.

"I know," I say, before thinking better of saying anything. Having done so, I decide that I'd better press on now that I have her attention. "Ido was telling me that..." my heartbeat stutters as my mind trips over something appropriate to say, "that you've had a pretty rough time of things. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm afraid all I can do is offer my condolences." I close my eyes and hold my breathing as I try to steady myself against a spike of anxiety. I'm hit with a flurry of images, of her becoming enraged at me for saying anything. And then doing to me, what I've seen her do to her opponents on the Motorball track.

"I appreciate that," I hear her say softly.

I open my eyes and look up to see her, not enraged or even angry, but with a pained look in her eyes and a sad little smile on her lips. Is this really the merciless killing machine I'd been afraid of this whole time? Having seen what she can do, I know the answer is definitely 'yes', but now I can plainly see that it's not my imagination; there really is a completely different side to her. A very human side.

I'm not sure why exactly, maybe it's that pain in her eyes, but I'm compelled to say, "If it makes you feel any better," I gesture with the stump of my arm, "I've become pretty well acquainted with rough times of my own." I attempt something approaching a smile, still unsure how to act around her. How far is too far? How easily angered is she? How easily does she hurt others when she gets angry? Still too many unknowns for me to really feel safe in her presence.

With a slight tilt of her head, she asks, "Are you trying to cheer me up?" Her smile is no longer sad, but faintly amused.

Feeling a little embarrassed, I awkwardly shrug and say, "Possibly." Hesitantly, I attempt to explain, "I don't really like seeing others in pain." Another awkward shrug, "It's somethin' that's almost gotten me into trouble more than once over the years." As if of it's own accord, my gaze falls to what's left of my legs, and I add rather sadly, "Guess it finally did." I hadn't meant to voice that last part.

She looks at me for a moment before softly asking, "You really don't regret it?" It's the second time she's asked me that. This time, there's no hardened edge to her.

"No, I don't." My eyes tear up as I'm unable to stop myself from adding in a pained voice, "Really would like to walk again, though." I try, and fail, to smile. Instead, I wipe my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath.

"You will," she says firmly. "If anyone can figure this out, it's Ido."

I nod, though I'm unable to share her optimism.

After a short stretch of silence, she asks, "Would you mind if I asked you some questions?"

I sigh, saying with a half-hearted attempt at joviality, "Well, it would appear I've got some room in my schedule, so ask away."

Her smile slowly fades as she becomes more serious, "Before, when I asked how you lost your family, you were being evasive, weren't you?"

I look off to the side, at the empty spot on the couch next to her as I think about my answer. "A bit, yes." Pain tightens my throat, "I suppose it would be more accurate to say, they lost me."

She draws her legs up, resting her feet on the couch cushion while she hugs her knees to herself, "How so?"

A wave of homesickness hits and I blink away new tears, "Look, I know you don't believe me about-"

"Let's say," she interrupts firmly, "for the sake of argument, I do believe you. What do you mean, they lost you?"

I draw in a deep breath to loosen up the constricting feeling in my chest, my gaze wandering around as if looking for an excuse not to answer, "Because of how I got here." When she doesn't say anything for a few seconds I look at her to see her nod encouragingly at me, so I go on hesitantly, struggling to find each word, "One second, I was driving down a country road and the sun was shining in the sky. Then there was a flash of blinding white, and the next second I'm running my truck into a small grove of bamboo or something like it. It's the middle of the night, and I'm in a jungle." With more prompting from her, I finally come out and tell her the details of what happened, including the events of the day that lead to me being out on the road when that anomaly hit. When I'm done, I feel exposed, as if I just gave away some big secret that I shouldn't have.

A spike of heartache stabs through me, and almost involuntarily I say in a pained voice, "Last thing she knew was that I was on my way to see the new house." Before I know it, I'm blinking back tears, "For all I know, she thinks I abandoned her."

Alita pulls her feet up and hugs her knees to her chest, "I'm sure she doesn't think that. Where ever she is, she probably misses you terribly."

I manage a faint smile as I nod in acknowledgment. Vanessa and I had known each other for years, over half our lives. Certainly she wouldn't think I'd just run off on her? I stare off out one of the windows into the dimly lit night.

As I do, Alita quietly sits there hugging her knees to her chest, a faraway look in her eyes. Then her focus snaps over to me and she slowly lowers her feet to the floor. "If this vehicle is really out there in the jungle, could you guide us to it?"

Her question catches me flat-footed, and I hesitate awkwardly in answering, "Uh, yeah. If it hasn't been found or anything, it should still be there. Even if it isn't, there's a two-hundred and sixty-some meter diameter circle of pine trees and a strip of old road that came here with me."

She cocks her head to one side and gives me a puzzled look, "Why didn't you say anything about this sooner? That seems like it might be kind of important."

"Because none of you believed anything else I was saying." I sigh, "Besides..." too late, I think better of saying anything further. There really isn't any point in voicing my fears.

When I don't continue, Alita leans forward and prompts me, "Besides, what?"

After a moment of indecision, I relent. Slowly shaking my head I tell her, "What if we go out there and… there's nothing there. What if it turns out that all I really am is just-," I shrug deeply, "just crazy, or something?" I start getting light-headed. I know I probably shouldn't keep going, but it feels like the pressure in my skull is squeezing the words out, "What if I'm just some guy who had a psychotic break, or something? Maybe I hallucinated my entire life before a year ago!"

She slides off the couch and drops to one knee next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Hey!"

I stop and look over at her, surprised more by her touching me than her exclamation. Her metallic hand is surprisingly warm through the fabric of the gown.

"How 'bout we take this one step at a time, alright?"

With a nod, I close my eyes and pull in a calming breath, slowly letting it back out. I try not to let it get to me, but my mind is keenly aware of the warmth of her hand on my shoulder, and of the horrific damage she's no doubt capable of inflicting. She's about to say something more when Gerhad interrupts.

Stepping around the barrier enclosing the OR, the nurse gestures back towards the operating theater, "Alita, would you bring Jason back here, please?" Her expression tells me nothing.

Alita maneuvers the wheelchair around the barrier and parks me near the foot of the operating table, moving to stand next to me. Gerhad rejoins Ido at the table as he's reassembling my phone. I glance over the monitors but, of course, am unable to decipher the information being displayed. It actually doesn't look like much has changed.

After he's done with my smartphone, Ido raises his glasses onto the top of his head and runs his hands over his face, as if to wipe away the weariness that is momentarily visible there. I wait patiently, afraid to ask what he found.

Ido puts his hands on the table and leans on them. "Well, that was the damnedest thing I've ever seen," he says, staring at the phone on the table.

"What did you find?" Alita asks him, while Gerhad gathers up my razor and phone to hand them to me.

I accept the items with a nod.

Ido straightens up before answering, "From what we could tell, electrical energy isn't interacting with those devices. As in, it's not crossing some kind of boundary between the actual device and the testing equipment connected to it. It just stops, right where the testing leads stop." Looking directly at me he adds, "If this is holding true for you, it would explain why those cybernetic implants aren't interfacing with your nervous system. For some reason, it seems that you and anything you own are reacting to electrical energy, as well as magnetic fields in a way I've never seen before. Since my medical scanners are based on magnetic resonance imaging, that seems to be why you aren't showing up on them. Just so you know, you're damned lucky you didn't try to get an ID, considering that a full medical scan is required. That would have likely caused you a world of trouble."

I stare at him blankly for a moment, trying to comprehend what he's saying. "Okay," I say slowly, "so, any idea what's causing it?" I try not to dwell on how many pieces I might have been carved into for experimentation, if the Factory had discovered this little mystery.

He throws his hands up in a helpless shrug, "No idea what so ever."

Alita glances down at me with a worried expression, "There's got to be something you can do to fix this?"

Again, Ido shrugs, but this time it's Gerhad that answers, "We don't even know what we're seeing. We only know that something strange is going on. What that is, exactly, is still a complete mystery." She glances at me with an apologetic look.

Ido breathes a heavy sigh and says, "If I can't figure out what it is we're even dealing with, what the cause is, I won't be able to find a way around it." He adjusts his glasses back over his eyes, "I'm sorry, Jason. I wish I had better news."

Not knowing what to say, I merely nod and drop my gaze to the floor. The only thought running through my head is that I'll never walk again. A part of me thinks I should be feeling something, but I don't seem to be feeling anything at the moment.

"Well," I say quietly into the momentary silence, "shit." I can't seem to do anything but sit there and stare at the floor.

My body tenses up and anger flares when I feel Alita's hand on my shoulder again, and hear her say, "We'll figure something out, don't worry." The reassurance in her voice is anything but reassuring.

'Will we?' I think angrily, 'And how much danger are you in, of slowly starving to death in some back alley because you can't work to feed yourself?' Despite the anger, I resist the urge to snap at her, or shake her hand off, knowing that it'll just be taking my anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it.

Taking her hand away, she says, "Why don't you tell them what you told me." I glance over at her as she leans back against the edge of the operating table.

Taking a deep breath to calm my anger, and not quite succeeding, I recount my arrival yet again. When I'm done, I try not to think of what it'll be like to be homeless out on the streets. It starts to feel harder to pull air into my lungs.

"If we go out there," Alita says to Ido, "we might be able to find some kind of answers. Jason said he can lead us back to this place."

Ido stares off into the distance for a time with a thoughtful look. "Well, it's not as if we have any other leads. But how is Jason going to get back into the city without documentation? I'm pretty sure he only managed to avoid closer scrutiny before because he was in a vehicle that was on, what was effectively, Factory business. The fact that he stayed away from the city like he did, certainly helped."

"Leave that to me," Alita tells him firmly, "I think Koyomi might be able to help with that."

Ido nods absently, "Hm. We'll probably need her to give us a ride out to this location, as well. You be sure to let her know to keep this to herself."

Alita nods, "We can trust her."

"You're sure?" Gerhad asks cautiously. "After what happened-"

"I'm sure," Alita interjects in a firm, but gentle tone. Her faint smile removes any trace of admonishment from her voice, "After she got back from her stay at Farm 22, we worked things out. It'll be fine."

Ido quietly clears his throat, "You still have an upcoming game to think about, as well. Those new parts still haven't been calibrated to your system."

Alita replies in mild exasperation, "I haven't forgotten. We can get started on those tomorrow."

Ido nods and turns to me, "In the mean time, I should probably give the Sheffield's a call. It's a bit late, but I should let them know that we're still having problems with your treatment."

I stare blankly at the phone in my lap. "Yeah." My mind is spinning in circles trying to make sense of everything that's happening.

While I grapple with the specter of homelessness in Iron City, among other things, the others hold a quick conversation before Ido heads off to make that call to my now-certainly former employers. Gerhad goes about cleaning up while Alita takes me out to the living area again. As I'm being wheeled out, I experience another seemingly irrational flash of anger at the thought that I even have to be wheeled around. That anger quickly dies to ashes as depression sucks the life out of it.

'Is this what the rest of my life is going to be?' I wonder morosely. 'No, after they decide they can't fix me, I'll have to find somewhere else to live and then things'll get much, much worse.' I've already decided, there's no way in hell I'm going to slowly starve to death, forgotten in some back alley. If it comes to that, it's a simple enough matter to feign some level of normalcy, get them to lower their guard, then get a hold of something dangerous. I'm sure there's plenty of drugs around here that would fit the bill.

Alita interrupts my ruminations as she takes a seat on the couch. "You alright?" she asks, her expression openly concerned.

I look at her, unable to really focus on her. "I don't know," I answer mechanically, and with more honesty than intended. I take hold of my phone, and hold it face up as I rest my hand in my lap. I'm still having trouble processing what Ido just told me. Did that anomaly do something to this device, to me? If so, what did it do? Is there some way to undo it?

A tap on the wheelchair's armrest brings me back to reality. I realize with a start that Alita had asked me something. I look over at her, a little disoriented, "Sorry, what?"

She leans back in her seat, an odd expression on her almost doll-like features, "I was just asking, were you really a soldier?"

I nod as I look back down at my smartphone, "Yeah."

"What was it like?" There's something a little off about the way she asks.

A flash of iritability nearly drives me to snap at her 'why do you care', when my mind finally focuses on her face. The odd expression, the tone of voice. It occurs to me, she's not just asking out of curiosity. She might be trying to keep me talking, keep me occupied with something other than dwelling on my problems. Able to more clearly see the concern on her face, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, pushing the anger down.

After slowly letting the breath go, I open my eyes and answer her, "Not all that interesting, honestly. I was a mechanic. I worked on generators and stuff, the kinds used to power aircraft when they were parked on the ground for maintenance."

She looks faintly surprised at my answer, "You never fought in battle?"

I shake my head, "No, I wasn't a combat trooper. I was support personnel. I've known quite a few soldiers who had seen combat, though."

She nods in thoughtful fashion. "If you don't mind my asking, did you join knowing you wouldn't fight?"

I take a moment, trying to collect my thoughts from an uncooperative mind, "No. It was the military, so some sort of fighting was kind of expected at some point. I had it drilled into me all through basic training that there was always the risk of combat. We were told stories about cooks and mechanics and even administrative personnel who ended up in battlefield conditions, sometimes without warning when a position was overrun." I pause for thought, then continue, "I joined mainly just to serve my nation, try to do something useful with my life. While I was in, war ended up breaking out. The First Iraq War. But even then, I wasn't experienced enough." I shrug off-handedly, "There were so many more support personnel than combat-trained soldiers that they could afford to be picky about the experience level of support types." Without really thinking, I add, "I don't think I was much older than you when I joined up." Remembering that she's a cyborg with an artificial face, I amend that, "Well, assuming you're about as old as you look, at any rate."

With an unexpected hint of humor she responds with, "You don't remember? I am three-hundred years old."

Her comment, and the memory of first hearing about that, clears my mind somewhat. I narrow my eyes a little and ask, "Seriously? You're really that old?"

With all seriousness, she nods, "I am. Ido found my core lying out in the Scrap Heap. My life support systems had put me into some kind of stasis."

Recalling my own claim to being several hundred years old, I refrain from making any smart-ass comments, and instead ask, "Why the hell were you lying in the Scrap Heap?" I'm only passingly familiar with the giant pile of scrap and garbage that pours out of the bottom of Zalem into the middle of Iron City. From what I've heard, it's a favorite spot for scavengers of all sorts to dig through in the hopes of finding something valuable.

She gets a far-away look in her eyes, "I've lost almost all of my memories from that time. All I really remember is, I was fighting in that last, great war. I was involved in the attack on Zalem. I can only guess that I must have ended up buried in the rubble at some point, too damaged to continue fighting. I guess I just stayed buried for all that time."

My mind, having freed itself from the enervating effects of depression during this conversation, now works it's way through this little revelation. Unsure how to approach the question of her memory loss, I decide to avoid that for now. Gesturing over my shoulder with the phone, in the vague direction of the floating city, I ask, "You were involved in an attack on that Zalem? The glorified, gilded frisbee hangin' out there?"

She let's out a little chuckle at my description, "Hadn't ever heard it described like that, but yes, that Zalem. I was part of a Martian assault force that attacked it centuries ago."

I immediately have to double-take at that, "Wait, what?" Uncertainty at what I just heard causes my eyebrows to come down as I look at her more directly, "Did you say 'Martian'?"

She looks back at me a little askance, "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. But you were seriously part of a 'Martian' attack force?"

"Yes, I'm Martian," she answers back with more amusement than annoyance.

I lean back heavily in the wheelchair, the implications of this playing through my head. Floating cities on space elevators, cyborgs and nano-tech, and now this. "Holy shit," I mutter loudly, "they actually did it."

It's her turn to lower her eyebrows in confusion, "Did what? What is it?"

With a quick intake of breath, I refocus on her, "They colonized another planet. They actually colonized another world!" Before I know, I'm practically grinning at her as I say excitedly, "You're from a different planet! That's amazing!" Even after everything that's happened, hearing that they really colonized other worlds brings on a sense of wonder that I hadn't expected. "That sort of thing was still in the realm of science fiction where I'm from."

Instead of saying anything in response, she smiles broadly at me.

I look back at her, puzzled. "What? I didn't say something wrong, did I?"

She shakes her head, "No, nothing like that. It's just," she tips her head just slightly to one side, her smile fading a little, "the way your face lit up when you realized I'm not from Earth. It was like you'd made some great discovery."

Feeling suddenly embarrassed at my outburst, I look down in a vain attempt at hiding my face. Awkwardly, I say to her, "Yeah, well, I've always had this huge interest in space travel and other worlds. Used to dream about it constantly, when I was a kid."

She gives a little nod. "It's nice to see that you can still smile," she says, her eyes alight with a very human warmth.

We sit and talk for a little while longer, mostly me asking her about what little she does remember, once I work up the courage to approach the subject. Among the questions I steer clear of even hinting at; 'what was combat like', and 'did you ever kill anyone'. I learned early on in life, never ask a combat veteran those questions. If they volunteer it, fine, but never bring those topics up yourself. Besides, I already know the answer to that second question.

Among the things I learn about her is that she was some kind of elite soldier called a Berserker, (a kind of special forces unit from the sound of it), among the places she's fought was Earth's moon, and she doesn't remember what it was like to have an organic body.

I look at her with open interest, "So, you've been a full-conversion cyborg your whole life?"

After giving me a funny look she corrects me, "We call it 'Total Replacement', not full conversion, and I don't know, maybe. I don't remember a time in my life when I had a human body. At least, not yet. Maybe some day those memories will come back to me."

A pang of sympathy compels me to say something, but not knowing anything appropriate, I choose to keep my mouth shut. From the sounds of it, she has retrograde amnesia. Vanessa had learned a little about this sort of thing when she studied as a nurse, and what little I remember from when she talked about it, it's a condition that's tricky as hell. Not to mention strange, leaving the sufferer with most basic knowledge intact, but no memory of actual events or people from before it's onset. Thoughts of what's happened to her mind turns my focus to this incredible cyborg body of hers.

Though it looks like a sleek and mechanical version of a human body, in function it's effectively a humanoid-shaped weapons platform of otherworldly technology. Stronger, faster, tougher. Considering my limited understanding of the way technology has advanced in the past, I suspect her skin could turn small-arms fire.

Bringing my focus back to her, I ask, "So, this is original Martian technology?"

She nods affirmative.

Recalling her being found by Ido, I inquire, "But it's not your original body?"

With a light shake of her head, "No, my original was no doubt destroyed, considering the condition my core was in. However, this one seems to be the same exact kind of body. I found it in an old, wrecked warship that had crashed out in the Badlands. It had a still-functioning stasis storage device on it that was holding this one. There was room for several others, but this was the only one left. What remained of the ship's systems recognized some kind of code in my cyber-core and I was able to access it."

I can't help but stare at her in amazement. "A stasis field?"

With a faint smile, she nods.

"There's a wrecked Martian warship out there with a working stasis field on it? Seriously." I'm nearly incredulous.

Her response is colored with quiet laughter, "Yes. You really find that interesting?"

"Well, yeah!" Without thought, I gesture with my residual left arm, "I mean, sure, it's probably no big deal to you. But to me, that sort of thing was just a vague theory. I mean, to put something in stasis, that requires screwing with the flow of time itself. I can't even imagine the kind of power that would be required for that." Memories of all kinds of old sci-fi stories, and articles out of science magazine flow rapidly through my head. "That kinda stuff is..." I flail in an attempt to quantify it, "That's some real Arthur C. Clarke level shit, right there."

Her eyebrows snap together and her head tips just slightly to one side as confusion washes over her features, "I don't follow."

"Oh, uh..." Feeling a level of excitement I haven't experienced in what seems like forever, I explain, "Arthur C. Clarke was a science fiction writer, among other things. I think he was the one who coined the phrase, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'."

Eyes sparkling with amusement, she asks in a vaguely teasing tone, "You think a stasis field is magic?"

With a note of mock indignation, I retort, "That's not what that means." Dropping the mock indignation, "But with how far beyond my understanding it probably is, it might as well be."

"If it's that interesting to you, maybe I could take you out there one day to see it? After Ido's tracked down a solution to this cybernetics problem."

My good mood evaporates, despite my attempt to hold onto it, and my smile fades. "Yeah." I lower my gaze back to the dead phone in my hand. As if the words won't be kept in, I say quietly, "If I can't get cybernetics, I won't be able to work. And if I can't do that..." I close my eyes and shake my head, unable to voice the next part. The thought goes through my head, 'I'd probably be better off if they had just let me die. Woulda saved people a whole lotta trouble.'

We're interrupted by Ido and Gerhad coming over to join us.

"Nice to see the two of you getting along," Ido comments with a slight smile as he sits down next to Alita.

Gerhad takes the chair next to me.

"I think we're making progress," Alita replies cheerfully with a sidelong glance in my direction. "He seems more at ease with being around a cyborg."

Trying to get back into a lighter mood, I add in, "And she seems to be tolerating me." With a faint shrug, I add, "So, that's good." I try to smile, but can't quite manage it. At least the remark elicits a smile from the others.

Ido nods. "The Sheffield's will be coming by to see you tomorrow," he says with an upbeat tone.

"Well, that sounds like good news," Alita remarks towards me. "Might be nice to see some familiar faces."

I finally manage something approaching a smile, "Yeah, it'll be nice to see 'em again." For some reason, the idea of them visiting brings on a feeling of foreboding. Maybe because they're likely going to have to cut me loose after all the time I've been away. Things are already too tight over there and they can't afford to be short-handed for long. A part of me clings to the hope that it is just a visit.

I sit back and listen as the others go on to discuss plans for a trip out to my truck, only stepping in when asked about some detail or other. Time it'll take to get there, where it's at, what the terrain's like, all get hammered out.

"First, however," Ido states, "Alita's team has an upcoming game in a few days. Once that's out of the way, we'll have some free time to pursue this little outing."

Feeling a glimmer of talkativeness, I ask Alita, "Loretta ever regale you with her views on your being forced to restart in Third League?"

With a quiet chuckle, Alita says, "She did, in fairly colorful language, too. She's convinced it's to somehow get back at me for wrecking Factory property. She might be right." Her eyes get a hard edge and she adds with a touch of anger, "But if the Factory thought that would stop me, they were dead wrong."

"It barely even slowed you down," Ido says with obvious pride. "At least the team they assigned you is proving to be a fine bunch of players."

Alita nods, her eyes still showing a hint of anger, "Even so, I don't think more than one or two of them are going to be suitable to be carried on into the Championship League."

"I'm betting that you're looking forward to being able to choose your own team?" Gerhad asks.

Letting out a tired sigh, Alita says grouchily, "Very. It's getting tiresome, having the Factory dictate so much, even down to who I can team with. Be nice to have the freedom they afford First League."

After that, conversation winds down and everyone gets ready to turn in.

Ido turns to me before heading upstairs, "Oh, Jason? I'm going to want to do a few more tests tomorrow. I know we didn't really learn much tonight, but I don't want to stop digging into this just because we've hit a dead end." He takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. "I'd also like to apologize again," he says with audible weariness. "I really just don't know what to make of all of this, but I am going to get you fixed up, somehow."

With a tired shrug, I tell him, "You don't need to apologize. You've already done more than you needed to." I let out a slow sigh as I run my hand through my hair. I feel so very worn out from the constant anger, fear and depression.

Struck by a feeling of light-headedness and unreality, as if the world is slowly separating from me, I quietly say, "Maybe I should be the one apologizing. Seems like I'm just causing you guys a lot of trouble." I clamp my jaw shut, suddenly fighting back tears once again. A deep breath helps me hold them off.

Having taken a spot behind me in preparation of wheeling me back to my room, I feel Gerhad put a hand firmly on my shoulder. "That's enough," she says with a stern gentleness. "You haven't done anything wrong, so don't worry about that. Helping people in your position is the whole reason for this clinic to even exist. Okay?"

With an effort, I hold back the pain, though it causes my throat to tighten up, silencing my voice. I take another deep breath and nod. Alita and Ido bid me good night and I manage a small wave back as I'm taken back to my room. After making sure I don't need anything more, Gerhad also wishes me a good night, turns down the light and leaves.

As I lay there trying to bring some semblance of order to this sudden emotional chaos, I hear the two women quietly talking in the other room.

"Just when it seemed like he was doing alright," Alita remarks quietly. "Isn't there anything else we can do for him?"

"Not really, I'm afraid," Gerhad answers her softly. "He's not like you, hun. You go through something like this, and it seems like you bounce right back almost as soon as it's over. For regular people, these sorts of wounds can leave deep scars that last a long time. Sometimes even a lifetime. Add this mental illness on top of that, and an already difficult fight can become that much harder." There's quiet for a moment, then she asks Alita, "What do you think about this claim of his? About being from hundreds of years in the past?"

There's the faint sound of a soft exhalation, like a sigh, then Alita answers, "I think there might be a kernel of truth to it. However, I've got my own theory I'm working on as to how he got here. Something that might explain some of this other strangeness."

Then the two of them say 'good night', and all's quiet. The lights in the main room are turned down low as Gerhad prepares for sleep.

I lay awake, a thousand thoughts a second running through my mind; a three-hundred year old Martian cyborg soldier, my own short service in the military (before my mental problems got me kicked out on a medical discharge), an interplanetary war that very likely devastated two worlds. Then my thoughts settle onto this strange affliction that's preventing my body from accepting cyberware, and the possibility that I may soon be without employment and with no place to go back to. Though I try to push it away, one thought stands out; that maybe I'm just that terrible of a person, that I deserve this.