5

The next morning, nurse Gerhad comes in to check on me. While preparing to put fresh bandaging on my limbs, she let's me know there'd been some sort of emergency late last evening and doctor Ido had been called away. It would take him some time to sort it all out, but he should be back soon.

Then she waited, maybe to see if I had any questions. I just closed my eye and turned away. Only my head, though. If I moved my whole body, I would notice the missing limbs. If I stayed in one position, I could almost pretend I still had my arm and legs, and that they'd just fallen asleep.

Over the course of the next few days I say and do little, if anything. I eat very little. I sleep very little, so despite lying in bed all day, I'm exhausted. Sleep means dreams, and none of them are good. I think this worries the nurse. I don't care one way or the other. The hours seem to swirl together into a gray haze of numbness and pain.

While changing my bandages, nurse Gerhad tries to draw me out and get me to open up by filling me in on what my surgery entailed.

"I know you didn't ask," she tells me, rewrapping a fresh bandage around one of my residual legs, "but it's something you should be aware of."

A flash of anger makes me want to snap back with an unkind comment. I sigh instead and give a little nod. Then it's back to staring at the ceiling while she works, trying to ignore the alien feeling of having less than half of the limb she's working on.

"While we were operating on you, we noticed you had some loss of bone density. Doctor Ido determined that your skeletal structure had been weakened in a number of key points. So, we had to replace your shoulder joint as well as your upper arm bone." In a tone that I think she meant to sound light-hearted, "That's the humerus, in case you were unaware."

To my mind in it's current state, it just sounds somehow insulting. 'Great, more of me missing. Wonderful.'

I bite down on a surge of anger. I want to shout or scream at her to go away and leave me alone, but some part of me is repulsed at the thought of repaying this woman's kindess in that fashion. Even if it is her job, she's still under no obligation to do any of this for me. So I hold my tongue and swallow that anger. It quickly sputters out as my depression drains the life from it.

"Some reinforcements were put in to shore up the remaining bone around the implants. The same had to be done for both legs, only it was the remainder of the femur, as well as the hip that were replaced." She finishes up that leg, then moves to the other side of the bed and begins unwrapping the other leg stump. "Once all that was completed, then we put those interface modules in place. The last one we put in is the interface at the back of your eye socket. When doctor Ido returns, we'll be installing all your new parts and you'll be ready to go."

A small part of me struggles to respond in some way, but I've become so mired in despair that nothing I can think to say even matters enough to bother with. The promise of new limbs helps to sustain the hope that's been keeping me going. I hold on to that, to keep from sinking any further into despair. That aside, it's as if the world has become some overpowering force that's taken over my life. I am at it's mercy, powerless to control anything. The knowledge I've gained over the years in dealing with my depression helps, but it's like an amateur boxer going up against a championship level opponent. Knowing what's about to happen won't help you defeat your opponent. At best, it might help you last a few more rounds. In the end, defeat is inevitable.

"In the meantime," she continues casually, "your body will have the chance to heal up some more. So, you'll be up and walking around as soon as the limbs are attached. You will still have to take it easy for a few more days at least, after that." Having removed the old bandages, she begins wrapping new ones around the end of the stump, specifically where my flesh meets the cybernetics. She glances at me, but without my glasses I can't make out her face, so I have no idea what expression she might be wearing.

She quietly takes a deep breath and gestures with her cyberarm, "I think I can imagine what you're going through. At the last place I worked, I lost my arm when a cargo transport went out of control as I was walking out onto the street. It sent me flying and tore my arm off." She's quiet for a moment. "I don't know what I can say that might make a difference, but I will say this; you're going to go back to your old life when we're done here, and you're going to have to find some way to come to terms with what's happened."

"Alright," is my quiet response. I'm not sure if it's a defense, or if I'm still in shock, but it's as if my emotions have mostly shut down. There's anger, if I do feel anything, and that's about it. Otherwise, I'm just kind of numb to everything.

She finishes with the remaining bandage, lowers what's left of my leg, then makes her way closer to the head of the bed. I keep my gaze on the ceiling, but the feel of her cybernetic hand on my shoulder draws my attention to her. "If you're worried about your job, we've talked with the Sheffields. Loretta will be coming over the day we finalize your cybernetics installation. She'll be giving you a ride back to the farm, okay? So don't let this get you down, you still have a place to go back to."

"Okay. Sure." Despite my subdued response, I'm filled with a turbulent mix of emotions. I'm happy that I'll be seeing my friends again. I'm damn near elated that I'll be getting back to the farm and my job after all this. There's also apprehension about both what's to come, and having people who aren't medical professionals seeing me in this state. How will they react?

I can hear the smile in her voice, even if I can't see it on her badly blurred visage, "Now, I'll be right back. I finally found that old phoropter that doctor Ido had stuck in storage, so I'll be able to get your vision tested. After that, I can make you a new set of glasses, alright?"

For a mind so buried in this darkness, hearing her say that leaves me momentarily stunned. I manage to dredge up a "Thank you" as she leaves. Even if it's going to be something added to some huge medical bill, it strikes me as a nice gesture.

Maybe I've become so desperate for something positive, some light in the dark, that I'm even willing to take what is probably a nurse's everyday duties as an act of kindness. The thought makes the numbness lift momentarily, and the pain threatens to overwhelm me. Once she's gone, a couple sobs escape as my eyes tear up, but I push it all back down. I think part of it is fear that if I let it out, it'll never end. All this pain and anger raging inside. I have to keep it at a distance so I don't get burned. I'm trying very hard not to take it out on anyone else here, as well.

The nurse returns with a small, thick gray case. She positions my bed so that I'm more sitting, then takes out the phoropter and carefully fits in on my head. It's sort of like a weird-lookin' set of nightvision goggles used by infantry, only instead of seeing in the dark, it measures a patient's vision. Once it's settled in place, she has me look over a chart pinned to the far wall next to the doorway.

Then she checks a readout, commenting, "Well, you certainly do have pretty bad eyesight." She jots down some notes, then puts the device away. "There we go," she says while packing everything up, "now I can put together a new set of glasses for you. Be right back."

"Okay," I quietly respond to her back as she hurries out of the room.

I glance down at my body and notice the much smaller outline of my residual limbs under the covers. I take a deep, stabilizing breath as a sick feeling comes over me and I quickly avert my gaze. Everything seems to be happening at such a whirlwind pace. I only just recently lost several body parts, and soon I'll have them replaced. I don't know what to think of that. I try to keep my mind on Henry, Axel and Zee. All three of them have had some pretty sizeable parts of their bodies replaced, and all three of them seem just fine. The nurse here, Gerhad, even she's got a cybernetic arm. Everything should be just fine.

So, why does it feel like my world is falling apart? I can't even stand to look at my own body.

Before long, the nurse returns and holds out a small object before me. "Here you go. I've tightened the stems so that you can unfold them with one hand, if you want to wear them now."

I hesitantly take the object from her outstretched hand. Holding it close, I can see that it's a pair of black, wire-frame glasses, similar to my old pair. Her making, and then giving these glasses to me, seems like such a small thing. I guess with what I'm going through, even this small act cause me to be nearly overwhelmed by a maelstrom of emotions.

When I'm sure I've got control of myself, I look up at her, "Thank you, very much." I feel my chin and lower lip begin trembling, and attempt to hide it by wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand.

"You're very welcome," she says pleasantly, her voice tinged with surprise.

I take a deep breath and manage to hold myself together for the moment, but I can feel my defenses disintegrating. Using my lips, I pull the stems open, and carefully put the glasses on.

"How do they feel?"

They fit snugly, without being too tight. "Comfortable," I say to the nurse who I can finally see clearly. Hers is an open, friendly face, attractive in my estimation. Warm, dark brown eyes watch me adjust my new glasses.

"Good," she says as I settle them on my face, "I put in a plain piece of glass on the right side, since your cyber-eye will have normal vision."

I nod mutely, unable to look at her directly. Seeing her clearly has made me feel awkward and exposed, embarrassed at being seen. It's as if some part of my mind could pretend that I was as blurry and faceless to the rest of the world as it was to me. But now that I can see her clearly, maybe that denial is gone? Regardless, I try to hide my embarrassment by turning away to visually inspect my surroundings.

"Doctor Ido will be back tomorrow. He's going to finish installing your cyberware first thing in the morning. And after that, you'll finally be back to your old life, alright?" Her smile is friendly, but guarded.

Her comment sends a stab of grief through my heart. I answer without looking directly at her, "Okay. And thank you, again... very much." Putting together a sentence is an almost hurculean effort. The numbness is gone, and holding back the flood of emotions is making it hard to focus on anything.

Though her smile remains, she looks at me a little oddly, "You're quite welcome. How are you feeling?"

The question brings on a momentary flash of rage, but what comes out is a not-quite-hysterical chuckle. "Oh, I've been better."

Her smile fades as she responds firmly, "I'm not asking about physically. How are you holding up otherwise?"

The storm of emotions suddenly dies, leaving me feeling empty and tired. Running my hand through my hair, I close my eyes and sigh wearily. I desperately want to talk to someone. I firmly believe that would be a mistake here.

"Mhm. That bad?" Her voice carries a warmth and understanding that I'd only ever heard Henry or Loretta come close to.

Opening my eyes, I look into hers, searching for any sign of duplicity. I see only sincere concern. Maybe it's because Vanessa was also a nurse, but I find myself trusting this nurse Gerhad enough to at least try. I quietly exhale. "I feel sick, and scared."

She nods, "Well, that's understandable, considering what you've been through. I'm afraid I can't do much about any of that, besides listen if you want to talk about it."

It's almost like I'm in a daze. Is she honestly willing to just talk? "Not sure why you'd really care. Surely you get people in worse condition than me that come in here?"

She reaches behind her and pulls up the stool that was put aside. Sitting down, she crosses one leg over the other and rests both hands on her knee. "Hun, I only became a nurse because I care. I'm certainly not in it for the money. Hell, I've been paid in fruits or vegetables on more than one occasion. The same goes for doctor Ido."

My mind grinds itself into motion trying to puzzle that out. Shaking my head, I ask, "Wait... if he doesn't make any money off this, then how...?"

"Doctor Ido has other sources of income to cover operating costs. The point is, Dyson and I both care. Every patient that comes through here, he does his absolute best to put them back together again, and so do I. Yes, we've had more than one person enter this clinic in worse condition than you, and poorer than you. They all get put back together, and they get back to living their lives. You will, too.

"Since Henry mentioned that you're not too familiar with Iron City, let me explain something, just to make sure you understand. The only way we wouldn't treat you, is if you had a bounty marker on you, and you don't. When you leave this clinic, it'll be on two new feet. The only thing you really need to worry about, is what you'll have for dinner that evening." Her mouth curls up in a genuinely friendly smile, "Loretta mentioned that you'll have a pretty decent dinner waiting for you, too. They're really looking forward to having you back."

Thought's of Henry and his daughter push aside the darkness for a moment and I smile briefly, "Yeah. He does his best to make sure his people are taken care of, even if it puts a bit of a financial strain on him. He vowed he'd never do to his workers, what the Factory did to him."

"Really? Well, that's a rare thing to see around here. And from the way he and Loretta talked about you, they think pretty highly of you. Considering what you did to end up in this clinic, I think I can see why."

I look away and stare at the foot of my bed, feelings of embarrassment and anger sweeping over me. "Yeah, well..." my mind momentarily locks up. I swallow as a wave of nausea washes over me. "I can't stop having nightmares about it."

"I can't do much to help with that. The best I can do is see if Ido will send something home with you to help you sleep."

It feels good to be able to talk to someone, but my anxiety fills me with a sense of dread that I can't shake. In the middle of getting ready to say more, my brain shuts down and all I can do is stare off into space as I mentally spin my wheels.

There's a sound from out in the main room and Nurse Gerhad glances towards it. "Looks like I've got patients to see to. You want to talk more later?"

"Sure." I'm not really sure what more can be said. My depression is robbing me of the ability to see any point to further discussion, but part of me would very much like to have someone to talk to, even a stranger.

She leaves to see to the new arrival. I'm left feeling a good deal of trepidation over talking about any of this any further. I'm afraid I'll slip up worse than I have in the past. Anxiety and fear fill me with a nervous, jittery energy that has nowhere to go, leaving me shaking. What the hell am I even supposed to talk about? In what way is my mental state going to matter to people who no doubt look down on that kind of weakness?

Later that evening, after the clinic has been closed up, she steps into the room. "Your operation is tomorrow morning. You really should eat something, even if you're not hungry."

I wage a brief battle inside my head over whether or not I should even bother. Rallied by her compassion and concern, my own experience and reason win out. "Sure, I suppose I can try to eat something."

She leaves and returns with a large mug of thick soup, setting a little folding table across my lap. "Figured we'd start light and work our way up if you think you can handle it," she says, settling the large mug of soup in front of me. Tomato, from the smell. My appetite starts to rekindle.

She takes a seat on the stool and we talk for a while, as I carefully sip at the oversized mug. I'm immensely relieved to find that she doesn't try to pass judgement on what little I'm willing to share. She only tries to advise me on how to face what is about to happen.

"Being a little frightened is perfectly normal," she says, sipping at her tea. "I'm just saying you have a lot less to fear than most other people. You're going to be taken care of by the best cyber-physician in this half of Iron City, and it's not going to cost you anything."

I'm still skeptical, but at this point I keep it to myself. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm still a little freaked out over all this. I've worked alongside people with cybernetics for a while now, but I still have no idea how this is going to affect my life. What sort of maintenance am I going to have to do? What sort of safety concerns are there? What...?" I stop as I become winded. The faint nausea and mild dizziness that hits me signals what might be another anxiety attack. I slow down and take a deep breath.

"All of that can be explained afterwards." She makes a gesture with her cyberarm, "Just keep in mind, you'll have a reduced sense of touch and you'll need to go easy on them for a few days while the mounting points finish healing. Otherwise they're like having your normal limbs back, just made of metal."

I nod my understanding. Anxiety is still overloading my brain, making the world into a whirlwind blur with sharp edges. It doesn't feel like I'm going to actually have an attack, at least. Out of habit, I try to maintain a normal front. On the upside, talking with nurse Gerhad has helped pull me out of the despair I was sinking into. I don't feel all that great, but her reassurances about tomorrow's fitting of my cyber-limbs have given me a decidedly more optimistic outlook on the future than what I was envisioning.

"Well, it's getting late and I need to take care of a few things around the clinic before I turn in for the night. Anything you need before I go?"

It takes a bit to work up the nerve to ask, "Is there any way I could use the restroom? I am really sick and tired of that damned bed pan."

She is gracious enough to dig an old wheelchair out of storage. After disconnecting my I.V., she wheels me to the bathroom. There's a short safety briefing on how to safely move from the wheelchair to the toilet. Anger and an irrational embarrassment drive me to resist her offer of help. I impatiently assure her that I can handle this alone, so she leaves me to it, closing the door behind her. What would otherwise be a simple, everyday task of no real consequence, becomes a monumental undertaking. Once started, I stubbornly continue, bound and determined to see it through regardless of the difficulty. It takes nearly half an hour of maneuvering myself with one arm and three stumps.

By the end of it I successfully get done what I'd set out to do, but I'm left with a sizable bruise on my back from slipping off the toilet and hitting the edge of the seat on the way down, a bloody nose from bouncing my face off the armrest of the wheelchair I was trying to get back into, and a lump on the side of my head from nurse Gerhad flinging the door open to rush to my assistance and smacking me in the head with said door. Throughout it all, my new glasses stay firmly in place, a testament to how well she put them together for me.

As she hurries to sit me up and see to my wounds, I'm seized by an unexpected fit of laughter. Thankfully, I'm not quite hysterical, but something about this whole situation is just too damn much. I start laughing even harder at the expression on nurse Gerhad's face.

"I'm glad you can find this funny," she comments dryly as she tries to stop the bleeding from my battered nose. "Doesn't look like it's broken."

I manage to get my hysterics down to a quiet giggling, before finally managing to stop it altogether. As the laughter dies down, I'm left with a hollow, detached feeling. After a deep breath to further calm myself, I look down at the blood-covered front of my surgical gown. With a loud sigh, I mutter, "I fucking hate my life."

"Tip your head back," she firmly commands. With no small amount of annoyance she scolds me, "Maybe next time you'll be more willing to accept help."

Tipping my head back while holding a wad of tissue over my nose, I retort, "Hopefully I won't ever need anyone's help with something like this ever again." Despite the pain of my minor injuries, I feel... more alive somehow. I can't really explain it, but my depression, and even the anxiety, has fled for now. Maybe doing this one thing on my own, despite the rough landing, has had an uplifting effect on me.

Nurse Gerhad checks me over to make sure nothing is broken, then helps me back into the wheelchair and gets me back to my little recovery room. After reconnecting my I.V. and making sure I'm safely in bed, she fetches a new gown for me to change into. Then she bids me good night.

She gestures through the doorway, "I'm going to be up for a couple hours still if you need anything, alright?"

Gingerly checking to see if my nose is still bleeding, I respond, "Okay." Sheepishly, I add, "Sorry about what happened back there. I wasn't trying to cause you any trouble. I just wanted to-"

"It's fine." She smiles reassuringly, "You're no where near as much trouble as other patients I've had to deal with."

I manage to smile back abashedly and nod, relieved to hear that she doesn't seem bothered by my now-seemingly idiotic stunt.

She heads out, letting me know she'll check on me again before she turns in for the night, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I set my glasses aside on the small table next to the head of the bed and let my mind wander aimlessly as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The bump to the side of my head has already stopped hurting and my nose isn't all that noticable. My back is another matter, feeling like someone landed a solid kick there. Emotionally, I feel better than I did before, the loss of my limbs momentarily pushed to the back of my mind. Feeling oddly at ease for the first time in days, I fall asleep quickly.

Blood and pain and pieces of me scattered around. Terrified panic as this metallic monster with a human face pins me to the ground and rips me apart in a berserker rage. My limbs are torn off and cast aside, then my ribcage is split open and my insides are ripped out and flung away. No matter how much he tears away, there's always more pieces of me to be ripped away. The screaming seems to go on forever...

I wake up screaming, gasping for air as I thrash about, disoriented in the dim light. My hand finds the edge of the mattress and holds fast to it. The terror fades and I try to get my breathing under control as I prop myself up on my elbow, casting about trying to figure out where I am. For the briefest of moments, there's relief as my mind sees the bedroom that Vanessa and I shared in our apartment in Washington. That relief quickly fades, and the bottom drops out of my stomach as I recognize the little Recovery room of the clinic I'm in, several hundred years away from that cozy apartment.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I lay my head down as my strength leaves me. Even my breathing slows, as if everything is dragging to a stop. Grief and heartache wash over me again at the thought of the family and home that I lost, and this waking nightmare that seems to have consumed my life.

'So fucking tired of this place.' 'This place' being the clinic, the city or even this world, I'm not sure. Maybe all three. Tears fall, soaking into the thin mattress as this devouring pain fills me. I make no sound, I don't have the energy. All I can do is lay there and silently weep for the life and loved ones that were taken from me.

My grieving is short-lived, as I'm interrupted by a voice from the doorway, "Are you alright?"

'Go. The fuck. Away,' is the first, and strongest, thought that blazes through my mind. I recognize the voice of that young cyborg woman. She wasn't around for the last few days that doctor Ido has been gone, so she may have been with him. If she's back, then he's probably be back as well. Probably arrived late last night after I fell asleep.

I sigh heavily, propping myself up on my elbow, awkwardly rubbing at my eye with the heel of my hand to wipe away the tears. Looking over at her, framed in the dim light of the main room of the clinic, I say with thinly veiled annoyance, "I'm fine. It was just a nightmare." I clamp my teeth together before I can let slip something less polite.

I hear nurse Gerhad's voice from somewhere beyond the doorway. The young woman turns toward the sound and gives a small wave, saying softly, "It's alright, he just had a nightmare. You go ahead and get some sleep." Turning back to me she asks, "You sure you're alright?"

I close my eye and softly exhale, trying to calm the suddenly raging emotions inside. When I open it I answer, "I'm sure. Thanks." The swirl of emotion dies down, leaving me feeling empty once again.

The woman leans a hand on the door frame, "Okay. If you need anything, I'll be just out here so you won't have to call very loud. I have really good hearing." Her voice carries a faint, friendly bantering tone to it.

I heave another heavy, tired sigh and nod, "Okay. Thank you, again, but I'm fine."

With that, she leaves my view. I flop down and just lay there feeling exhausted. I have no desire to go back to sleep, but no energy to do anything else. So I just lay there, trying to pretend that I'm not in some clinic in a run-down city. I try to pretend that I'm some place surrounded by pine trees.

I awaken from a dream of a sunny day in which I'm walking through a snow-covered Alaskan forest.

Nurse Gerhad is standing over me. "Hey, you hungry? We have breakfast ready."

Blinking the sleep from my eye, I glance around, "No, thanks. I'm not really hungry."

She positions the bed so I'm in a reclined sitting position. "Alright. I brought you some water, it's here next to your glasses."

I nod and grab up the cup of water, draining it quickly. Then I exchange the empty cup for my new glasses. Once I'm settled, she begins checking my vitals and making sure there are no lingering problems from my faceplanting in the bathroom last night.

"Any trouble breathing, dizziness, anything like that?" she asks while taking my pulse. Once again, this strikes me as odd, considering they have me hooked up to what must be advanced monitors.

"Nope. Back's a little stiff, but that's about it." I catch movement and focus on the open doorway as doctor Ido shows up carrying a cup of what I assume is coffee. I notice the room beyond him is more brightly lit now, the warmth of the light indicating daylight hours.

He walks over to the monitors and quickly looks them over. I can now see that he does indeed wear gold, wire-rimmed glasses. He also appears to be in his sixties, about ten or so years older than I am. "Good morning, Mister Deshane," he says in a semi-jovial manner, "You mentioned a stiff back?"

"Yeah, but it's just-" I don't bother with the rest of my comment as he gently pushes me forward a bit and opens up the back of my gown for a look.

"Hmm." I feel him poke around the edges of the sore spot. "Looks like a pretty good-sized bruise, but nothing serious from what I can see." He leans me back against the reclined bed, "No doubt an unfortunate result of your encounter with a certain toilet seat."

I glance up at him, feeling a bit guilty under his not-quite-stern look.

He crosses his arms, flashing a faint, but knowing smile. "Mhm. Among nurse Gerhad's responsibilities is helping you with anything you might need, part of the reason being so my patients don't hurt themselves. Next time, I'd appreciate it if you let her do her job."

I glance up at him again before lowering my gaze to the foot of my bed, "Yes, sir." A fallback habit from my days in the Air Force when dealing with people in positions of authority, calling them 'sir' or 'ma'am'.

"Now then, let's take a look at those implants." He and the nurse both begin unwrapping the bandages off the ends of my stumps. There's a brief inspection of each residual limb, some poking and prodding around the point at which the metal meets my flesh. They remove the bandage over my empty eye socket and I hold in a surprised gasp at the disturbing feeling of the doctor prying open the eyelid over the empty socket. He inspects it and 'hm's a couple times, then pronounces everything in good order.

I almost reach up to rub away the disturbing feeling that lingers in the wake of the empty socket's examination, but stop suddenly, unable to bring myself to touch anywhere near the now-vacant socket. I suddenly feel naked with that bandage gone.

"Now then," he says as he takes a step back, "shall we see about getting you walking again?" Without waiting for an answer, he directs nurse Gerhad to unhook my I.V. line (apparently I no longer need it) and they begin preparing me for the next step of whatever procedure I'm about to undergo.

During all the activity, I lay there staring up at the ceiling. I still can't shake this feeling that none of this is real. Perhaps, my mind is still having trouble processing my situation. I only pay peripheral attention to what's going on around me as I'm moved from the recovery bed, into the wheelchair and rolled out into the main room. The first thing I notice is that it's quite a bit bigger than I thought. From the decor it looks like it used to be a restaurant, or hotel lobby or something like that. There's fancy lighting along the walls and decorative lights hanging from the ceiling. There's also some worn but well-maintained furniture way off to one side, among them a couch and a couple comfortable-looking chairs. Some of the space is divided up into smaller sections by moveable dividers, like what I've seen used to make office cubicles. The newer look of the dividers indicates that they may be a recent addition.

In a larger space carved out by a somewhat bigger set of dividers is what I assume to be the operating theater. An uncomfortable-looking metal bed sits under a spider-like array of robotic arms hanging from a track on the ceiling. On the right side of the head of the operating table is a bank of four display screens, each with the appearance of a middling-sized flat-screen monitor with a well-used set of keyboards below them. Standing near the foot of the operating table is that young woman from earlier. She's dressed in loose pants and a tank-top that shows off her metallic and gray arms and shoulders. Her back is to us and she appears to be placing and arranging tools onto a small wheeled table.

She turns around as we approach, and it takes a couple seconds for me to recognize what I'm seeing. I've only ever seen her in that purple and silver Motorball body, but now standing right in front of me is Alita. She looks pretty much like a young woman in peak physical condition. In this unfamiliar body, her arms and shoulders are a silvery metallic with grey high-lights and a purple color at the biceps as well as places along the forearm and hands, like some kind of artificial muscle. Her head looks human but for eyes that are about twice the normal size. Those large eyes, being cybernetic, would no doubt have superior sight compared to a normal human. Based on what little I know of advanced optical systems from my time, she'd be able to see farther more clearly, see in lower light conditions and get a sharper image than with a normal-sized eye.

She would also probably be able to track fast-moving objects far more easily. She may even have thermal imaging, and who knows what else, packed into them. Aside from that, her head looks generally normal with shoulder-length black hair framing an oval face. But everything I see is artificial, including the skin that looks to cover her head and spreads out from her slender neck to gently arc over the very top of her shoulders. She looks almost like a normal young woman, but I've seen her in action. She's a vicious fighter capable of inflicting incredible damage on an opponent. I would think she has little need of that curved sword she uses.

The bottom falls out of my stomach. The panicked question crosses my mind, "What the hell is she doing here?" Flashes of memory come to me, images of a hulking cyborg raising his arm to backhand me. My heart skips a beat and I immediately avert my gaze from her to the floor a couple meters in front of me. I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.

"Everything's ready," she says to Ido, with a pleasant smile on her delicate features.

The doctor walks ahead and puts an arm around the young woman in a quick hug, "Ah, thank you, sweetheart."

'Sweetheart? The fuck is this 'sweetheart'? These two know each other?' My mind is reeling at the realization that I'm in the presence of someone I've watched rip other people apart. Someone who my mind keeps fixating on as being capable of easily tearing me apart.

Nurse Gerhad positions my wheelchair next to the operating table as doctor Ido and Alita continue their conversation. Inside my head, faint panic is growing into a sickening fear and I become light-headed.

"Sure thing," Alita responds warmly. "After what you did to help out the team these last few days, I was happy to return the favor."

"That was my pleasure," he says, with a fatherly pat on her shoulder. "You certainly aren't obligated to pay me back for that." He makes his way over to the keyboard and monitors on the other side of the operating table. "Well, I'm sure you have other things you'd like to get to, so I won't keep you."

"Actually, I'd like to stick around for a bit, if that's okay."

Sounding pleasantly surprised, Ido responds, "Of course." As if just remembering that I'm there, he turns to me, "Oh, Jason. This is my daughter, Alita." His voice is filled with a father's pride.

'That killing machine is your daughter?' My gaze darts between and around the two of them, never looking at her directly. "Hi," I manage with what I hope is a polite nod. My body is starting to tense up as a voice begins shouting in my head, 'Get me the FUCK outta here!' If I still had a left hand, it would be balled into a fist to hide the shaking from the stress. The tremors always started with my left hand.

To my surprise, the killing machine smiles at me. "Hello." With what seems like a guarded cheerfulness, "I bet you're ready to get walking again."

Before I can summon a response, doctor Ido interrupts, "Let's get Mister Deshane onto the operating table, shall we?"

"Oh, here." She moves over to nurse Gerhad and puts a hand lightly on the woman's shoulder. "Let me," she says with a familiar warmth.

"Thanks, hun," the nurse responds lightly. She then moves off to bring a trolley cart closer, upon which is what I now recognize to be cybernetic limbs.

While nurse Gerhad is doing that, Alita grabs a neatly folded sheet off a shelf under a nearby table and approaches me. As she comes closer, my mind very nearly shuts down. As if from a distance I recognize the numb, retreating sensation that comes over me, even after all these years. It's the same feeling I'd get as a child when my father started going on another one of his drunken, belligerent rants. Just before the numerous occasions when he'd become violent. It's the feeling of powerlessness in the face of something I know I can't fight back against, a sort of numb acceptance of what's about to happen next.

What happens next is, Alita bends down to begin wrapping the sheet around my waist and lower body, "Let's get this around you first." After getting it wrapped around, and tucked under me, she then leans in close. With an air of professionalism, she instructs me, "Put your arm around my neck."

I obey out of grim acceptance that I have no other choice, a part of me recoiling from the thought of touching this thing that I've seen inflict so much destruction with such ease.

She puts her arms under my thighs and lower back, eliciting a muffled gasp of pain from me as her hand presses into my bruised back, then lifts me as easily as if I were a child. She gently places me on the operating table. "There ya go," she says, stepping away.

As if on autopilot, I say, "Thanks." I keep my gaze focused anywhere but on her. Somehow my mind has latched onto the thought that if I look her in the eyes, she'll attack like some rabid animal. Even in my current state, I recognize it as a stupidly illogical thought, in light of the rather human interactions I've just seen. However, logic seems to have gone out to lunch, as it often does when my illness starts casting it's shadow.

After that, my mind only perceives a jumble of inputs. The controlled chaos of professionals going about their job. A bright-eyed, silvery-shadow presence watching it all from a little ways off. My muscles shivering subtly as if cold, despite the warmth. The cool metal of the operating table under me touching my skin through gaps in the back of my gown. About the time that nurse Gerhad places what is to be my new left arm next to me on the operating table, ready to be hooked up, the skittering terror begins fading. I mentally breath a sigh of relief, and the world comes back into focus again. I think I narrowly avoided another anxiety attack. My heart is still jackhammering at my sternum.

I'm only vaguely aware of nurse Gerhad commenting on my increased heartrate, and doctor Ido brushing it aside as not a danger.

During a quiet lull, as the doctor is fiddling with the cyberarm and the mounting point on the end of my residual arm, I hear Alita ask, "How are you holding up?" I remain silent, staring up at the ceiling, oblivious to the fact that her question was directed at me. A little louder, "Mister Deshane?"

I blink as it dawns on me that I'm being talked to. Without looking at her, easy to do since I have no peripheral vision on that side, I say aloud, "Yes?"

"How're you holding up?" she repeats paitently.

I glance over at the nurse monitoring the screens and the doctor working away at my arm before answering. "I'm, uh... I'm fine." An outright lie, but I don't see a point in admitting how I'm really feeling.

Doctor Ido focuses on me, eyebrows raised in an unconvinced expression. "You're in no danger here, alright?" His attempt to reassure me does little to banish my anxiety. "Just try to relax and we'll be done shortly."

A grunt of frustration from nurse Gerhad. "These diagnostic systems still don't seem to be calibrated properly, doctor."

Doctor Ido's brows descend over his eyes as he turns to look at the focus of Gerhad's frustration. "Nonsense, we've both checked them and rechecked them." He taps away at the keyboard and adjusts a few controls. Shaking his head, he complains, "What the hell is going on with these things?"

"What's wrong?" Alita asks.

Nurse Gerhad glances at her, "We're getting some strange diagnostic readings from Jason's cyberware. After all this time, they should have synchronized themselves to his nervous system."

"The cybernetics are working fine," doctor Ido explains, "all the diagnostics are coming back green. But... they're acting as if they aren't hooked up to anything."

Sounding confused, but unconcerned, Alita asks, "Does that mean he needs new cyberware?"

Doctor Ido shakes his head, "It doesn't seem to be a problem with the cyberware in his body. It's more that his implants aren't picking up any sign of Jason himself."

An hour goes by, then two as the doctor and nurse work tirelessly to try to chase down the cause of the problem. The morning light coming through the windows brightens as the sun shines more directly onto the streets outside. Seeing that the sun is able to shine down on this part of the city this late in the day tells me that we're not directly under Zalem.

Doctor Ido tests and retests everything. He checks readings from nurse Gerhad's cyberarm, and even from Alita's sleeker, more advanced-looking cyborg body. Their signals come through loud and clear. Nothing seems to help find the source of my problem, and he grows more frustrated in turn. Finally, he throws in the towel.

"This is getting us nowhere," doctor Ido says impatiently. "There's got to be an explanation, but I'm just going in circles right now." He lets out a loud sigh. "I'm sorry, Jason but it looks like you may not be able to leave today."

My mind refuses to work. All I can do is stare up at the ceiling and wonder, 'What the hell am I supposed to do now?' From a dark part of my head, a voice answers back, 'Starve to death in an alley somewhere? The Sheffield's aren't going to want a broken worker back. You're useless to anyone in this condition.' There's a stab of fear and pain. I feel tears come on, but I take a deep breath and banish them easily as numbness takes hold again.

Overcome by a sense of helplessness and despair, I quietly ask, "I guess that's it then?" My voice sounds almost thunderous in my ears.

"For now, yes," doctor Ido says, "I've got other patients I need to see to, but I will try again later this evening."

Nurse Gerhad comes over to stand beside the doctor, "I'll give the Sheffield's a call, let them know something's come up."

Doctor Ido nods absently while staring down at the cybernetic implant on the end of my residual left arm, rubbing his chin.

I'm barely aware of the nurse coming over to Alita and softly asking, "Could you help me get Jason back to Recovery?"

"Sure." Alita scoops me up off the table and quickly places me back into the wheelchair, still wrapped in the sheet.

I cooperate stiffly, a wave of nausea touching my senses at the physical contact. Some part of me continues to expect violence from her. I'm taken back to the little Recovery room and placed back into bed. Nurse Gerhad asks if I would like anything, while Alita looks on, her face unreadable.

My swirling thoughts can't seem to coalesce into anything coherent, so habit takes over. "No, thank you. I'm fine," I say to her in a quiet voice.

Gerhad gets a faintly puzzled look but says no more and the two of them leave. The energy seems to drain out of me. I take off my glasses and put them on the tiny table next to me, then I close my eye, sinking back against the pillow. From the main room I can hear voices, Ido and Alita talking. At first they're too quiet to really make out over the noise of equipment being put away.

Then I hear Alita, mild confusion coloring her voice, "Even without being synchronized to him, they should have picked up Jason's neural signals when you first put them in. Why didn't this show up then?"

There's a significant pause, then Ido responds with heavy chagrin, "It did."

A touch of anger mixes with the surprise I hear in his daughter's voice, "What? If it was doing the same thing before now, why-?"

"When the implants did this before, I rechecked them in every way I know how, even running Gerhad's neural signals through them to see if they were picking that up. They did, everything worked perfectly, except for picking up Jason's neural signals. I pushed it off as some sort of signal anomaly, figuring that synchronizing with him would correct the problem." Apologetically, he adds, "I was in a hurry to get to you, to help your team with the problems they were having."

Her voice sounds strangely pained, not something I expected to hear from her, of all people. "You promised me that being my Tuner wouldn't interfere with your work in this clinic. What you do here is just too important. I can get another Tuner. These people, including that man lying in Recovery, can't get another doctor as good as you."

Her remark referencing me specifically, partially snaps me out of my dazed state. 'She sounds nothing like what I'd imagined, or expected.' It distantly occurs to me that I'd written this young woman off as some kind of monster before I'd ever met her. Trying to think any further than that is nearly impossible, as fatigue settles over my mind like a thick fog. It all seems like a pointless endeavor. It's not as if what I think would matter one way or the other, anyway.

"You think I don't know that?" he answers back earnestly, voice heavy with regret, "Perhaps I let myself get overconfident. I've just never seen a problem like this, it never occurred to me that something like this would happen, or even could happen. His implants are reading every other neural signal I put into them, so why aren't they reading his?"

There's the faint sound of a sigh from Alita. "The more we find out about this Jason, the more I think there's something unusual going on here. I think maybe I should pay the Sheffield's a visit, see if they can shed any light on what's going on with this guy."

Any further discussion becomes indecipherable as the noise of more activity mixes in. Feeling nearly bereft of hope, I lay there wondering, 'What am I supposed to do now?' The only thing it seems that I can do, is pray to God that I can find the strength to get through whatever happens next. I have next to no hope that anything good will come of all this, but it's all out of my hands.

The rest of the day passes without any real incident. I sleep through most of it, unable to find the energy to care what happens. When questioned about needing anything, my monosyllabic answers draw concerned looks from nurse Gerhad the few times she's able to look in on me. I had thought I'd be able to go back to the only life I had left, but that's looking less and less likely. Depression lays over me, like a thick, suffocating blanket.

That evening, after the clinic closes, doctor Ido and Gerhad bring me back out to the operating theater. Then there are a few more hours of tests, during which the only things that happen are my back becoming incredibly sore from the hard metal surface of the table, and doctor Ido nearly pulling his hair out trying to track down a problem that he seems unable to even identify. Nurse Gerhad finally convinces him to let it go for the night, and I'm returned to Recovery. After that, feeling exhausted and in some pain, I fall into a weary sleep.