15
The next morning at breakfast, Ido shares some of his findings from his experiments in the clinic's basement machine shop/laboratory.
"I got an electric motor, drawing power from a regular outlet," Ido explains with a gesture at the clinic in general, "and hooked it up to your vehicle's alternator with a belt. This allows me to generate electricity with the alternator."
Refraining from making a smart-ass comment about him stating the obvious, I shrug and say, "Okay, so it is generating a charge then."
Ido nods, "Yes. However, the only way I can tell is to hook it up to one of the lights I took from you truck. If I touch the live wires from the alternator to anything that wasn't affected by that anomaly, there's simply no effect and as you know, my diagnostic tools won't tell me anything." He continues a bit hesitantly, as if a little embarrassed by his next admission, "I even tried touching them to my forearm, and felt nothing. Well, nothing but the feel of the physical wires themselves."
Alita's brows draw down as she looks over at Ido with some disbelief, "Were you trying to electrocute yourself?"
"It's not exactly a lethal charge comin' off of those alternators," I say to her. "It might give you a painful zap, but not much else." Turning to Ido, I ask, "Okay, so what does this tell us?"
Spreading his hands in an expansive shrug, he replies, "Nothing new, I'm afraid. It merely reinforces what we already know; that the anomaly that brought you here has somehow put you and everything that was within it into some sort of 'out of phase' state, or something of the sort." Shaking his head a little, he looks down at his plate of food with a thoughtful look. I get the impression that he's still got no idea what to even make of this.
With a nod I go back to eating, but stop as a resigned sigh escapes me. It's an answer I'd already expected. Hell, I've pretty much given up on any hope that Ido's going to find any kind of cure for whatever this is that's keeping me locked out of using cyberware, regardless of how skilled he might be of a cyber-surgeon. Still, some part of me did hold out a faint hope.
"It does mean I should be able to recharge your smartphone, however," Ido offers. "You'll finally be able to access whatever is on there that may be of importance to you." Which I take to mean the last pictures of my family that the phone's memory holds.
Summoning up a faint smile, I say, "Well, that'll be good, yeah." Letting the smile fade, I add, "But, for the foreseeable future, I'm gonna be staying in this wheelchair." Pressing my lips into a thin line, I straighten up in my 'chair and decide on something I'd been toying with since yesterday, "I guess that tears it, then."
The two of them look at me questioningly, Alita asking, "Tears what?"
With only the slightest hesitation, I announce, "I think it's time I looked for a place of my own. I think I've taken up space in your home long enough." I can only hope I managed to keep the faint quaver of fear out of my voice. It's a big step, considering my condition, and frightening in a place like Iron City, but it's time to face reality.
The pair seem somewhat taken aback at my announcement, which I hadn't expected. They certainly seem less enthusiastic about it than I'd figured they'd be. I had expected some smiles and encouraging words at the prospect of getting this weird old guy out of their home, finally. However, that doesn't seem to be the case.
Alita is the first to break the suddenly awkward-seeming silence, "You're not serious?"
It's my turn to be taken aback. "Uh, yeah," I answer back. "Why wouldn't I be?" Picking up my coffee cup, I gesture at Ido with it, "I can't be fixed, and you guys can't keep taking care of me." Sounding more defeated than confident, I add with a shrug, "Time to face reality." I pause to get that tone of defeat out of my voice, then go on, "I'm wheelchair-bound, but I'm learning to do more on my own. I even convinced Gerhad that I can shower without help from now on." Putting on a more upbeat tone, I shrug and add, "Besides, with how well yesterday went… you know."
Ido opens his mouth to say something, only to be over-riden by an earnest Alita, "No, I don't know. You had a good day yesterday, sure, but-" She seems momentarily at a loss for words, then, "What are you going to do for income?"
"Well," I begin slowly, unsure of how this next bit is going to be greeted, "I was thinking I could keep working here, if that's okay? I mean, I still owe you," I gesture toward Ido, "for everything you've done and maybe I can work that off?" To which my brain adds, 'To say nothing of the fact that I don't have anyone beating down my door to hire a one-armed paraplegic.'
"Well, of course," Ido says rather distractedly, "but there's other considerations besides that. For starters, wheelchair access isn't something that's really given any thought in this city."
'Yeah, 'cause everyone else gets cybernetic legs around here. Except me,' I think caustically to myself.
He goes on, "Then there's the dangers of being viewed as an easy target. Even in this neighborhood-"
"Exactly," Alita cuts in, almost angrily. "You know damned well how dangerous it is out there." With a barely perceptible pained catch in her voice, she adds, "Especially in your condition. How are you going to defend yourself if someone decides you're an easy mark?"
Being a bit stunned by her reaction, I'm slow to respond. Finally, I shrug and say uncertainly, "Well, it's just something I'm going to have to deal with, isn't it? I mean, everyone around here has to deal with the same risks, don't they? Like I keep hearing, it's a dangerous city, that's just a fact of life." It is, in fact, something I've been dreading. I've had a few nightmares about being attacked while I'm stuck in this wheelchair, practically helpless.
Rising up out of her chair a several centimeters, Alita puts her hands on either side of her plate and does a surprisingly good job of looming over me, "And that's exactly why you need to stay here for now. Ido can find a solution, you just need to give him more time." The glint of steel in her eyes highlights the tensing of the artificial jaw muscles under her synth-skin.
She's clearly ready to fight me on this, much to my surprise. I have no idea what to say to that, as I didn't expect any real pushback on this. Maybe a, 'are you sure' or something along those lines, but certainly not this. It hits me that she's clearly worried about my safety. My mind isn't entirely sure how to process that.
Putting a hand lightly on her forearm, Ido gets her to sit back down as he says to me, "It's a good sign that you want to get back to being self-sufficient, but like Alita, I seriously advise against it." Once Alita is seated again, he cuts a meaningful glance at her, "It's up to you, Jason, but I'd really like to have the time to give you the best chance I can. Right now, I don't think your chances are as good as they can be."
Looking down at my hand holding my coffee cup, numerous thoughts race through my head. It's all a jumbled mess, but what does stand out, is that these two are clearly looking out for my best interests. The constant stream of anxiety and depression-riddled filth that constantly streams through my mind, trying to tell me otherwise, can fuck right off.
Finally, I let out a deep sigh and say to them, "So, what you're telling me is, I got a big head," I gesture with my residual arm, "a tiny arm, and this plan wasn't well thought out?"
Ido chuckles lightly, "Something like that, I suppose, yes." Relieved by my answer, he shakes his head and takes another sip from his own cup.
Alita flashes a crooked grin at me and shakes her head at me, likewise relieved, "You are such a strange man."
Having no argument to that assessment, I shrug, smirking as I take a sip of coffee. Truth be told, their insisting that I stay is a tremendous weight off my shoulders. I decide to take it as a sign from God that I'd best follow their advice.
Putting together the little coffee service for the waiting room turns out to be easier than I'd initially thought. In part because being among the patients in the waiting room doesn't cause me nearly as much anxiety as I'd feared, but also because no one makes use of it for the first few hours that it's set up. After a bit, I'm approached by a broad-shouldered man in gray coveralls and a rather industrial-looking left arm.
"Uh, excuse me," the man says as I'm completing a restocking task.
Putting the last item away on the shelf, I turn to him, "What can I help ya with?"It takes some small effort to hide my uneasiness.
Though he looks worn and tired, the man is quite polite, as opposed to irritable or brusque like I'd have expected. "Well, I notice you put that coffee out in the waiting room, but I didn't see any kind of price or anything on it. I was just curious-"
"Oh! It's free," I interject, realizing the confusion. "Help yerself."
The man's demeanor immediately brightens, "Really? Uh, thanks!"
"Sure thing," I casually respond with a shrug.
After that, the coffee goes rather fast, with just about everyone in the waiting room grabbing themselves one of the little disposable cups and filling it from the small dispenser. I can't help but smile a little as I realize that the normally quiet waiting room filled with tired cyborgs, worn from constant work, is now a little more lively. Some of the waiting patients are even engaging in quiet conversation over a cup of coffee, mostly to commiserate over problems they all seem to share.
My spirits are further lifted when an unexpected visitor drops by around noon. Loretta, having a free moment after a delivery, stops by to see me. Fortunately, it's while I also have a free moment, so we find a quiet corner to talk for a bit.
"How've you guys been?" I ask her, taking in the visible fatigue on her features.
"We've been doing pretty good, actually," she says with an easy smile. Leaning in a little, she adds in an almost conspiratorial manner, "We've been getting a lot more orders from businesses, including a bit from the Factory itself."
My eyebrows go up in surprise at that, "Seriously? The Factory's been sending you guys orders?" A touch of suspicion tickles the back of my mind. Why the hell would the Factory need to get food from such a small operation as Henry's? Certainly the production margins aren't that tight, are they?
"Yeah, believe it or not. Seems some of the Factory farms to the northwest got damaged pretty badly. Guess it's really cut into the mainline food supply for Zalem." Loretta shrugs one shoulder a little, "For the time being at least, they're relying on the small farms to make up some of the difference."
"Huh," I look off towards the unseen horizon. "What the hell coulda done that?"
She lowers her voice further, "From what I hear, some powerful group of bandits have been hitting the outlying areas in that direction. Called the 'Barjack' or something, I think."
"Barjack, huh?" Absent-mindedly, I bite at the inside of one corner of my mouth as I take that in. "Any idea how long that sorta thing's been going on?"
Loretta seems to think for a moment, then shrugs, "Can't really say, but from what Dad was tellin' me about the deal the Factory made with him, he thinks this has been going on for a couple months at least. It's apparently gotten worse as time goes on." She gives a tired half-smile, "On the upside, it means we've had to expand our operations a bit to keep up with demands."
My surprise at the thought of a bunch of bandits being powerful enough to give Zalem any kind of fight is overshadowed by surprise at this news about her family's farm. "Well, that's great!" I say, unable to keep from grinning. "If business is booming, then you guys'll be able to keep your home."
Her face lights up with an answering smile, "It's lookin' like it. But it also means we're gonna be a lot busier for a while, too." The smile fades from her lips as her gaze sinks towards the floor, "Really wish you were still with us." For a fleeting moment, she seems close to tears.
Seeing her like that chokes me up a little. "So do I. I actually miss that little bunkhouse room." I manage a crooked little grin as I add with a shrug, "'Fraid I can't really say the same about my roommate's snoring."
This gets a little laugh from her and her face brightens. "Axel wasn't that bad, was he?" she asks, back to her usual upbeat self.
"No, he wasn't," I reply with a quiet chuckle. "Speaking of, how's he and the other's been doin'?"
"They're good. Everyone's pretty worn down, but with the new business has come a bit of a pay increase, so that's helped keep morale up."
After imparting the good news about the farm, our conversation shifts to other subjects. She asks about her idol, Alita, who's currently off at a practice session with her team. I can tell she's a little disappointed that I have so little to say on the subject, but despite my living here for these past few weeks, I don't feel I have a whole lot to share. I'm just not willing to risk letting something slip that would put Ido and the others, as well as myself, at risk.
All too soon, it's time for her to leave.
She leans down to give me a somewhat awkward hug and I embrace her tightly. "Give Henry my best," I say, letting her go as she stands back up. "Tell him I'm happy to hear about things picking up for you guys."
She gives my hand a last gentle squeeze before completely letting me go, "I'll do that."
We part ways at the front door next to the little waiting room, each of us exchanging a final good-bye wave as I see her off. I watch her get back into the farm's delivery truck, along with a few other workers, two of whom I don't recognize. Watching them leave isn't quite so bad this time around, but it still leaves me with a sense of quiet panic, the fear of an uncertain future seizing me.
There is also a sense that my life is an exercise in futility, compounding this feeling of meaninglessness and irrelevance. 'After all,' whispers that poisonous voice, 'things didn't start looking up for them until after you weren't there anymore.'
Unable to entirely shake off the feeling, I turn to head back to the kitchen to find my way obstructed by a young woman in threadbare work-clothes with numerous patches. She stands there, close-cut raven hair framing a face that looks startled and uncertain for half a heartbeat before finally speaking.
"Uh, hello." She smiles hesitantly, hands folded in front of her.
"Hey there," I respond pleasantly, hiding away the fear and creeping desperation. "Somethin' I can do for you?"
She fidgets uncomfortably, as if she'd rather be elsewhere, before answering, "Not really, no, I just wanted to thank you."
Taken aback by this unexpected response, I'm slow to respond, "Uh, for what exactly?" I kinda doubt that this is about the coffee in the waiting room.
There's a visible struggle in her eyes, as if she's fighting against something trying to hold her back. She seems relieved by my reaction. "Well, that man that you saved? He's a friend. He's always been kind to me, at times even when nobody else was." She seems to shrink in on herself, hunching her shoulders slightly, "So, thank you, for saving him." Her eyes flicker across my amputated legs and arm, "I- I am sorry about what happened to you, though. I really hope doctor Ido can get you fixed up."
That now-familiar anger surges up, and I push it back down, unwilling to let it out. Putting on what I hope is a more pleasant expression, I say to her, "Well, I appreciate the sentiment. I hope your friend's doing okay now. Last I heard he'd had a broken arm?"
Her expression brightens a bit and her shoulders relax, though the hesitancy remains, "Yes, he's doing okay. Or, rather he was, last we talked." A momentary sadness clouds her features, "It's been a while since I've seen him around. I used to see him every couple of days, but the last time I saw him was almost two weeks ago."
"Ah." I want to say more, but nothing comes to me. Any attempts at consolation or comfort ring hollow.
Considering the man was likely homeless, and apparently had been for some time, there's no telling what's happened to him. Maybe he's been forced to go elsewhere? Or maybe worse has happened to him? The memory returns to me, of his face as he lay on the ground cradling his broken arm, while that cyborg in a drug-fueled rage looms over him. The fear on his features, like a mirror of the fear I was feeling as I tried to step in to save him.
"Is it true that doctor Ido discovered some sort of problem with your nervous system?"
Her words pull me out of the dark place I was suddenly sliding into, and I look up at her, a little startled at her question.
Her expression closes up, her features embarrassed as she retreats a short step from me, "I mean, if you don't mind my asking."
"Oh, it's fine." Leaning back in my wheelchair, I make an effort to visibly relax, hoping to put her more at ease. I try to stick to vague, but not too vague, "I don't really understand the specifics, it's kinda over my head. But, yeah, something about my nervous system's preventing cyberware from linking up to it. Doctor Ido's put a lot of work into finding a solution, but," I shrug lightly, "so far, nothing." I now remember having seen her sitting in the waiting room with an old woman wearing clothes as worn as her own.
Seeing no visible cybernetics on her, I ask, "So, what brings you down to Ido's clinic?"
"Oh, I'm just here with my neighbor. We live next to each other in the same apartment building, and she needed help getting here. She has some organ replacements that need tuning."
"I see." In an awkward attempt at conversation, I ask her, "So, you don't ever come here for yourself?"
"No, I don't have any cyberware of my own," she responds, smiling almost shyly. "Kinda like you, I guess, huh?"
"Well, I do have cybernetics," I say conversationally. Holding up the stump of my left arm, I show the mounting and interface hardware that makes up the lower half of it, "They just don't work." A faint shrug as I remark, "Just my luck, eh? A city full of cybernetics and I can't use any of it." I manage a smile, trying to inject some humor into the words.
A pall comes over the woman's features, making her look more troubled than amused, however. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Oh, hey, it's okay," I rush to interject. "With any luck, doctor Ido'll get it sorted out." There's embarrassment that I just made her uncomfortable.
Abruptly, I remember my manners, "Oh, by the way I'm Jason." I hold out my hand, wondering if she'll be one of those people who'd rather not touch someone visibly missing parts of their body.
It's as if the tension leaves her body, and she visibly relaxes, taking my hand with a smile and giving it a firm shake. "I'm Alondra. It's really nice to meet you."
There's a sincerity in her brilliant smile, and I find myself smiling in response. "Likewise," I say with a slight bow of my head.
To my surprise, we end up talking for several minutes or so. Not about any specific subject, we just talk for a bit. I'm actually not sure how long, as I end up losing track of time a little, finding her incredibly easy to talk to.
During a lull in the conversation, an old woman approaches us. She flashes a friendly smile at me before directing her attention to Alondra, "All finished, dear." Her manner towards Alondra is grandmotherly.
"Right, should I see the doctor about the payment?" Alondra asks her.
The older woman gives a shake of her head, "Oh, no, he seems busy. The nurse is waiting for you, though."
"Okay, I'll take care of it." Alondra gives the older woman a gentle pat on the shoulder before moving off to speak to nurse Gerhad, "Be right back."
"Such a sweet girl," the old woman says with a quiet cheerfulness.
With a glance in the direction Alondra went, I comment idly, "Yeah, she seems really nice." Out of curiosity, I comment to the old woman, "She mentioned the two of you are neighbors."
"Yes, we are."
A quick pause while I fish for the right words. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but why is-"
The old woman anticipates my question with that grandmotherly smile, "Why is she paying for me?"
"If you don't mind my asking." Considering the poverty so prevalent around here, it's a strange thing to see.
"Oh, she's not paying for me. I'm not that young anymore, so I gave her my money for safekeeping."
With an understanding nod I take that in. That's an unexpected level of trust.
In an almost apologetic tone, she goes on, "It's not much, but doctor Ido never asks for more than what people can afford to pay, so I always try to have something for him." With a wistfully impish grin, she adds, "He's such a handsome man. And good with his hands."
Unable to suppress a smile at the old woman's candor, I nod, "Uh, yeah." Her comment makes me wonder if Ido's aware of her admiration of him.
Seeing as Alondra's apparently going to be a bit, I introduce myself, "I'm Jason, by the way."
"I'm Sophia," the woman says cheerfully. The hand she extends is rough with a faint tracery of scarring all the way up to the elbow-length sleeve of her blouse, almost as if she spent her younger years playing in a vat of razor blades.
With a quick glance, I notice that the other arm has the almost plastic look of cheap synthskin, scuffed and scarred, in all likelihood a cybernetic.
Putting on a sincere smile, I take her hand and give it a firm shake. "Nice to meet ya." I find myself rather liking Sophia.
"And you," she replies with a friendly warmth. "Alondra's been so hoping to meet you. She wanted to thank you for saving that friend of hers."
"Yeah, she did that." I feel my good mood slipping away, even as I try to hold onto it. In a fit of self-directed anger, I comment, "Not really sure I did all that much, considering-"
"Oh, don't be stupid," Sophia says abruptly, still with what warm, grandmotherly tone. "You did a lot more than the rest of those toe-suckers that just stood around with their heads up their collective ass."
Surprised at the words that seem so at odds with her tone, I just raise my eyebrows at her.
Sophia seems to misunderstand my expression. "Oh, don't get me wrong. That wonderful girl, Alita's done so much for us, but what good is her example if no one follows it? People keep saying how she's such an inspiration, but I don't see many people who really put that into practice. I'd say you did that, and more." She punctuates her statement with a firm nod of her head.
There's an impulse to argue that I wasn't following Alita's example, but I squelch it, saying instead, "Yeah, I guess I hadn't thought of that."
"Anyway, I'm glad Alondra finally got to meet you. Things have been so hard for her these past couple of years. This is the first time I've seen her smile in what seems like forever."
Unable to think of anything to say to that, I merely nod politely.
After a short moment, Sophia goes on in that way older people sometimes have when something comes to mind, "It's a pity that she wears her hair so short these days. She used to have the most beautiful, flowing hair, down to the middle of her back. Then one day, she just chopped it off. It's been that way ever since." The old woman smiles in seeming fondness, "I'm hesitant to admit it, but I used to be a bit envious of that hair. Mine went all gray so many years ago."
About then Alondra returns and hands a small bottle to Sophia. "Here, doctor Ido says he wants you to take these until they're all gone."
"What's this?" the older woman asks.
After gently placing the little bottle in her neighbor's hand, Alondra says, "It's a supplement. Doctor Ido's a little worried about one of your test results, he says these should help."
Sophia flashes a little smile at me, saying in an almost conspiratorial manner, "Such a kind man. And so handsome."
With a polite nod, I say with a quiet chuckle, "So I hear."
Sophia turns to Alondra, "Ready to go, dear?"
Alondra looks about to say 'yes', but stops as something seems to occur to her. "Just a minute," she says as she reaches up behind her neck and undoes a clasp to a necklace that had been hidden under her somewhat over-sized shirt. Then she takes my hand and drops the necklace into my palm, "I was going to give this to Alita, sort of a 'thank you' for everything she's done for everyone around here. But I figure she's probably got a lot of people giving her things as it is, what with her being so famous and all."
I glance down at the plain, if well-made necklace. It's a stylized bird of some kind, in mid-flight. I look up at her and ask, "Did you want me to give it to her?"
"No. I think you should have it. Alita's done a lot for people, given a lot of people hope. I'm thankful for that, but you're the one who saved my friend. It's just too bad she couldn't have come along sooner." A saddened look comes over her, tinged with a deep pain, just a flash and it's gone.
Something about that look lodges in my mind, but my somewhat befuddled brain just rolls over it and keeps going.
"Are you sure about that?" Sophia asks, sounding genuinely surprised and even a little concerned.
"I'm sure," Alondra reassures her, the corners of her lips turned up in a rather melancholy smile. "I don't need it anymore."
Sophia and I share a somewhat confused glance at that, but the comment passes unremarked.
"Well, thank you," I say, holding back a surge of unexpected emotion, "very much."
Then the two of them say 'good bye' and I see them off, thinking how nice it was to have met them. It's only after they're gone that I realize, I never did learn the name of the man I saved. I shrug it off, figuring I can always ask another time and head back to work.
There isn't actually a lot to do today, but I try to keep myself busy. Some time is spent cleaning up around the clinic. I start a couple little projects on that 3D design program of Ido's. Just toying around with a version of the Mobile Infantry powered armor from Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers, or weapons from various science-fiction stories from my time. None of it's actually usable, considering I have no idea how the innards of such things work, it's all just fancy replicas of sorts. I fiddle with them in between keeping supplies stocked for Ido and Gerhad, or fetching them something they need while working on a patient.
On a couple of occasions I take the necklace Alondra gave me out of the pocket I keep it in and look at it, wondering why I'm so bothered by that whole incident.
The end of the day rolls around and Gerhad, rather cheerful at finding out that I've taken care of almost all of the needed cleanup, realizes she gets to go home earlier than usual. After she bids Ido good-night and is getting ready to head home, I approach her.
"Do you remember that old woman, Sophia, that was here earlier?" I hadn't planned to bother Gerhad or Ido with my concerns, but this feeling won't leave me alone.
Gerhad takes a moment to think as she puts her light jacket on. "Yes, she was in for some readjustments. What about her?"
As is often the case, I begin feeling inexplicably stupid for asking a simple question, but I forge on, "Well, she was with a younger woman, Alondra. I was just wondering if you or Ido had some way of checking on her?"
Pausing about halfway into putting her cyberarm through a jacket sleeve, Gerhad looks at me slightly confused. "Sophia?"
"Uh, no. Alondra."
She finishes putting her jacket on. "No, we don't bother keeping addresses on file. Quite a few of the people we treat don't often have a permanent place to live. Besides, she's not one of our patients." Her eyes narrowing slightly in a faintly suspicious, if amused look, she asks, "Why do you ask?"
It occurs to me that she might think I'm asking because I find Alondra attractive. In an attempt to try and dispel any such assumptions, I put on my best serious expression, "This is probably going to sound strange, but I..." My brain locks up, anxiety making me believe that I'm just being stupid, wasting people's time with my petty concerns. I manage to push the feeling aside, "I have a feeling something might be wrong. I was just wondering if you or Ido could check on her?"
She gives a little nod, her amused look replaced by a small frown. "Ah. Well, I'm afraid we don't have her cell number, assuming she even has a cellphone, nor do we know where she lives. But, if you're really worried, you can let Dyson know. He can ask some of his other patients about her tomorrow, they might know something."
"Okay," I reply with a nod.
Tipping her head slightly to one side, she gives me a puzzled look, "What is it that has you worried?"
Unable to quantify an answer, I merely shrug, "I dunno. I just..." another shrug, "I just have this feeling."
Gerhad gives me a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Well, maybe it's nothing, then? There's nothing that can be done right now, anyway."
Letting go of a quick sigh, I nod, "Yeah, I guess so. I'm probably just being… I dunno."
"Try not to worry about it. You have a good night," she says, flashing a smile as she turns to go.
"You too," I say, returning the smile with a wave.
Then she heads out into the evening and is gone. I sit there for a moment or two longer, staring out at the darkening street, mulling over the day's events. Taking the necklace out again, I look down at it and decide that maybe I'm just obsessing over nothing. My depression, combined with my anxiety disorder, can often do that. Putting the necklace away, I turn around and head for the kitchen to help Ido start the evening meal.
That night, I lay awake in bed staring at the ceiling. Over dinner, I'd let Ido know about my concerns, which is about all I could do under the circumstances. After that, I went up to my room, thinking I should just stay out of Ido's way. I figured he might have clinic or Motorball business to deal with and I didn't want to bother him. I was already in bed trying to sleep when Alita had come back for the night. From what I could hear through the door, she'd been out hunting again. She'd taken down two rather dangerous bounties.
I try not to be judgemental, especially considering the kinds of people she must be hunting down. After all, who else is going to go after serial killers, rapists and all that. People need to do some pretty harsh things to survive here, that's been plainly obvious to me almost from the moment I got to Iron City. Even so, I can't help thinking about how easily, how casually it seems human life is just snuffed out in this place.
I know full well that Alita does in fact care about the people around her, but she was also created as a war machine by a likely now-dead civilization. No doubt, she's doing the only thing she really knows how to do, dealing with the world in the only way she can. A warrior out of time, trying to survive in a world that's become increasingly desperate. Trying to fight for what's right, if what I've seen so far is any indication.
My mind turns to other matters in it's wanderings. 'What happened to my world?' It was one of the first coherent questions I asked after getting over the shock of realizing where I was. I still can't quite grasp that this is the only known city left on Earth. I can remember all the towns and cities I traveled to and lived in. Hundreds of millions in North America alone. Billions of people all over the world, whittled down to just this?
Intense anger flares to life accompanied by a smoldering hatred, mostly at the world around me, but a good deal of it directed at the shining city floating above. 'You stupid, fucking morons!'
The feeling of near-rage and hatred that begins pouring into me feels so sickly, but at the same time, so good. Empowering, in a way. It quickens the pulse and energizes the body. Like an addictive drug, it feels good. It burns away my depression and doubt, making me feel clear-headed when so often I feel anything but.
Slowing my breathing, I pray for peace of mind, the strength to keep myself on the path. It takes a good deal of effort. I've felt so powerless, so helpless since coming here, that the empowering feeling of that anger and hate is like a salve on an agonizing wound. Lessons I've learned in my younger years remind me that the kind of strength granted by this hatred is illusory at best, self-destructive at worst. Fortunately for me, many of those lessons were garnered from watching others fall prey to that trap, sparing me from suffering many of the scars of those lessons. Even so, it's a trap I am far from being immune to, if I don't watch my step.
Closing my eyes, I let out a long sigh, releasing the tension with it.
Seemingly of their own accord, my thoughts return to Alondra, and Sophia's words come back to me, 'This is the first time I've seen her smile in what seems like forever.' Followed by, 'It's a pity that she wears her hair so short these days. She used to have the most beautiful, flowing hair, down to the middle of her back. Then one day, she just chopped it off.'
The memory of Alondra, looking a little sad but at the same time somehow relieved, as she hands me a necklace that I have the distinct impression was very important to her. As she does so, saying, 'I don't need it anymore.'
A distant, icy dread grips me and I sit upright, scowling into the near-dark, fully awake. Grabbing my glasses off the nightstand, I put them on and slowly get off the bed using the little set of wooden stairs at the foot of the bed that Gerhad was kind enough to put together for me. Throwing on some clothes, I climb back onto the bed and transfer into my wheelchair.
'Just what the hell am I going to do?' I ask myself. I'm still not even sure what's wrong, I just know that something is wrong. Am I going to wake up Ido, or Alita for some nebulous feeling that I can't even articulate? All I can do is sit here and let this feeling eat at me, but be unable to do anything about it.
And so, for the remainder of the night I sit in my wheelchair doing exactly that, as my mind spins it's wheels trying to find an alternative.
The next morning, I help Ido get breakfast ready, but I find myself unable to eat any of it. Anxiety and lack of sleep have robbed me of any appetite. I have a cup of coffee and sit quietly while he and Alita eat and discuss some upcoming business that I pay no attention to.
After that, Alita heads off to deal with other matters while Ido and I prepare for the new day.
"Here," Ido says, handing me a tiny paper cup.
Finishing drying my hand from washing the last of the few dishes, I put the towel down and take the little cup. "What's this?"
Reaching into the cupboard, Ido grabs a small glass and fills it partway with water, explaining, "It's your medication. Since this particular version seems to be the option we're going with, I've decided it's past time we switched to a form that's going to leave fewer puncture marks on you." With a faint smile at the little joke, he hands me the glass of water.
I quickly gulp the water down and the pill with it.
Ido's smile is replaced by a look of professional concern, "If I thought I could get it to work, I'd suggest something a little more permanent."
Setting the empty glass aside, I ask, "Oh, like what?"
Crossing his arms, he leans back against the kitchen counter, "Well, there are neural implants that can be modified to affect certain aspects of the brain. They're incredibly expensive, but with the proper modifications they would provide a more permanent solution than these pills do. They would be able to stabilize chemical imbalances in the brain in a constant, reliable manner. They wouldn't be any kind of cure, but they would allow you to live a more normal life without needing a constant supply of outside medication."
After a moment's silence, I look at him skeptically. "Yeah, I'm not sure about sticking a chip in my head, to be honest. Even if it were an option."
"If you're worried about it somehow altering your personality or something of the sort, don't be. All it would be doing is performing the same function as, say, Gerhad's cybernetic arm; filling in for an abnormal deficiency in the body. In this case, helping to monitor certain chemical levels that your brain isn't able to properly maintain."
"Mmm, yeeeah," I say slowly, old cultural doubts swirling through my head about 'brain chips'. "Well, I suppose so. But, why bring it up now? Didn't you just say it's not an option?"
"It's not an option at the moment, no. But I am still hopeful that I might be able to work something up at some point, and if that should happen, I think it would be a far better option than trying to maintain a potentially unreliable supply of medication. I may not always be available to keep you supplied."
Heaving a quick sigh, I shrug, "I'll think about it." I find myself mildly annoyed at what I see as him being naively optimistic about all of this. An unfair assumption I suppose, but one that's difficult to avoid, all things considered.
"That's all I ask," he says, shrugging expansively. "And before I forget-" he reaches behind his back and holds up my old smartphone, "this is now fully recharged." He hands it to me with a little smile.
Taking it from him, I look it over, tapping my fingers across the touchscreen to activate it. A smile, both happy and sad, forms at the thought of being able to see the last images I took of my family before losing them forever.
As I activate my old phone, Ido explains, "I did attempt to dial into the city's cellnet as a test, but as I suspected it didn't detect the network at all. Neither did my local network detect a new device, unknown or otherwise, when I attempted to connect your phone to it. But, I did remember you saying something about using it to take pictures, so at least you have that."
My thumb stops just before bringing up the photos of Vanessa and Brian. It hits me that I should wait until I have a private moment to view them. Looking up at Ido, I quietly tell him, "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome," he replies warmly. "Gerhad will be here soon, let's get started." He pushes off from the counter, then pauses, "You know, we got a number of compliments about the coffee in the waiting room. Seems to be a bit of a hit. You still feel up to maintaining that?"
"Absolutely," I say cheerfully with faint shrug.
Ido nods approvingly, and we get to work.
The day goes smoothly enough, if a bit hectically. While I'm not kept nearly as busy as Ido and Gerhad, I still struggle to keep up with everything I'm asked to do. I'm not used to it being so busy, but I do my best to keep up with the nearly endless stream of requests for a bottle of replacement lubricant fluid, cyberblood or some other item needed to treat a patient.
Sometime around late afternoon, Alita enters the clinic as I'm setting out a fresh pot of coffee for the waiting room. The mood in the waiting room, already fairly pleasant, brightens considerably as various patients smile and greet her. She returns their greetings brightly, but her own demeanor is more subdued. I end up doing a bit of a double-take upon seeing her.
At some point in the day she'd changed into a mini-skirt, solid black stockings and a light jacket. If she were wearing gloves, you'd never know she had a mechanical body. Large eyes aside (not twice the size, but only forty percent larger than normal, as it turns out), she looks like any normal young woman.
When she comes to a stop near me, I look up at her and say without thinking, "Well, you're looking lovely, if you don't mind my saying so."
Immediately, I cringe inwardly. A man my age saying something like that to a woman so much younger than I am? An inner voice sarcastically quips, 'Yeah, that's not gonna look just a little creepy.' Not to mention, there have been very few women in my life I've ever felt comfortable enough with to be so open like that, so it's not something I'd normally do.
Alita seems faintly surprised by my comment and flashes an appreciative, if short-lived smile, "Oh, thank you." Her expression becomes somber, "Could I talk to you privately?"
"Sure." I finish with the coffee and follow her as she leads me into the kitchen area.
Setting the empty tray I used for the coffee onto the table, I ask her, "What's up?" There's that feeling again, of something terrible waiting to happen.
Pulling out a chair, she sits and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "Ido told me you were concerned about that woman who gave you the necklace, Alondra? So I found out where she lived from some people who knew her, to check in on her."
There's a faint shock, kinda like being smacked right between the eyes, making me blink a couple times rapidly. I think to myself, 'Knew her? Whaddya mean, 'knew' her?' But I remain silent.
Her eyes go to the floor for a moment, then back to mine, "When I got to her apartment, I found out from her neighbor, Sophia, that she was gone."
"What do you mean, gone?" I ask obliviously. The question is asked as if by reflex. I already know the answer.
"I mean she's dead," Alita replies quietly. "From what Sophia tells me, they think she committed suicide. Either this morning, or last night." She looks at me steadily.
There's a stretch of silence where I stare past Alita as the world takes on an aspect of unreality. Then I lean back heavily in my wheelchair and say, "Huh." There's no rush of emotion, or anything like that, just 'Huh'.
"You gonna be okay?" she asks gently, a hint of concern glowing in her eyes.
Dipping my chin in quick nod, I focus in on her and say, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little surprised, I guess. Certainly didn't expect to hear that."
The corners of her mouth turn up in a sad, sympathetic little smile, "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Was she someone you knew?"
"No," I reply a bit vacantly, staring off into space again. "Hadn't ever met her before yesterday."
"I see." There's a pause as if she considers saying some thing, then she stands up, "Well, I need to head off, I just wanted to stop by to let you know. You sure you'll be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, waving off her concern. "Like I said, the news just caught me off-guard. Thank you, for doing that."
With a final good-bye, she heads off as I return to work.
The remainder of the day goes by in a bit of a blur, with everything feeling somewhat distant as I work through Alita's news. I just can't seem to let it go. I feel as if I failed Alondra somehow, yet I'd never met her before our brief interaction.
That evening at dinner, I spend more time staring vacantly at my food than eating any of it. After helping Ido clean up, I turn in early. There's a heaviness to my body as I crawl into bed, making it feel as if gravity has been turned up.
The next morning, I'm up before sunrise. Laying in bed, I listen to the sounds of the city outside, as well as the building around me. Staring up at the darkened ceiling, my mind replays my interactions with Alondra, as well as her elderly neighbor, Sophia. All at once, it hits me what I've been missing. The look in Alondra's eyes, her mannerisms, I'd seen them before in the mental hospital, on the faces of suicidal patients. I'd seen them on my own face, in the mirror.
'Another human being, dealing with a hurt you're well familiar with, was reaching out for help in those little ways that people do when they have no idea how to ask for help, or feel they have no one to turn to,' hisses that little voice in the back of my head. 'You were just another person she couldn't turn to. You let her down, when you should have known better.'
I did know better, I should have seen what was happening right in front of me. The signs were all there for anyone with a brain to see, but I was too blind and stupid to see them. 'Just as you've always been. She didn't have to die. She wouldn't have either, if you were worth a damn.' The screws continue to turn, slowly but steadily driving home how irresponsible, how negligent, I was. And of course I was.
One of the things that I've always tried to see as an upside to my illness was that, with everything I've been through, surely I could use that to help someone in a similar situation. I've always taken a bit of pride in the thought that, somehow I would be able to help someone when they need it most.
But when the time came to do just that, I failed. I had a chance to make a real impact on someone's life as they went through their own descent into that same darkness, and completely fucked it up, leaving them to die alone.
Finally deciding it's time to turn away from this train of thought, I force myself up, sidle to the edge of the bed and retrieve my smartphone off the seat of my wheelchair where I'd left it. Scooting back, I sit with my back against the headboard. By feel, I turn on my old phone and pull up the pictures I had taken while playing with it's functions. They were taken over the course of a few days, mostly out in the yard around the apartments.
Vanessa hated having her picture taken, so most of the pictures are of her dodging the camera while her youngest, Brian is in the background hamming it up with silly faces. Seeing these most recent reminders of their faces, even if some are just blurry glimpses of hers, helps to lighten my mood. Sifting through the pictures, I stumble across an unexpected find; a short, minute-plus-long video.
I must have accidentally activated the record function while fumbling with the controls back then. I play the video and watch the little scene play out.
Vanessa and I are in the little kitchen area of our apartment, with her sitting at the table dealing with paperwork of some sort. I was screwing around with the camera when Brian comes in and says something to Vanessa that the microphone doesn't pick up, but sounds like it might have been one of those random off-color comments that he sometimes makes when he's not thinking. Vanessa immediately turns it into a dick joke. It often seemed like she'd do that without thinking, like it was a reflex.
"Mom!" Brian exclaims indignantly, turning slightly red. "That's not what I meant!"
Vanessa and I both bust up laughing, Vanessa more so than me. She always did love to occasionally screw with her kids, like a mischievous older sister at times.
Between gasps of laughter she manages to get out, "You know I'm not a mature audience!" Then she breaks down into laughter again, lightly slapping the table top.
A slow smile forms on my lips as a chuckle escapes me. But the smile fades as I continue to watch the recording. In a way it's almost like watching strangers now. While this is still a happy memory, I don't really recognize the man that was standing in that kitchen. It's nearly impossible to imagine that this was me over a year ago.
Putting the video on repeat, I lay down on my side, setting the phone on the bed near my face. I curl up around it and fall asleep to the familiar sounds of my family.
"Here, you can have this," Alondra says with a faint smile. "I don't need it anymore. I'm finally going to be free." Then she begins falling to pieces, blood spreading in a crimson pool on the ground. The last thing to hit the ground, is her head. It lands so that her face is up towards the sky, eyes closed, her expression one of serene calm.
"Hey, you overslept."
Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I look up at Alita standing over me with one hand on my shoulder. "Oh, hell," I mutter. It feels like I'm trying to move through wet cement.
"Can I see?" Alita asks, taking her hand from my shoulder and gesturing toward my smartphone, still playing the video recording.
"Yeah, sure." I hand her the phone, and realize I never bothered getting undressed last night. I feel a little grimy but decide to forgo taking the time to change clothes or shower, since I'm already late for work. My mind berates me for yet another string of failures.
Alita's face lights up as she watches the interplay on the little video screen and I pause to watch her reaction.
She glances at me, "I'd have liked to have met her."
Unable to suppress the faint smile, I let out a short, quiet laugh, "I think she'd have liked you." An honest assessment. I really do think the two of them would have gotten along. The thought brings a keen pang of heartache.
Alita smiles brightly at that before handing the phone back to me. I take it, power it down and set it on my nightstand, then I settle myself into my wheelchair and we head down.
Over the following days life goes on, as I continue to try to settle into what my life has become. However, much as I try to fight it, everything seems to rapidly become more distant. Depression drains the energy out of me, leaving little for me to direct towards anything but the most necessary activities. I do the work I'm directed to do, put on a friendly face and keep to myself, unable to find the energy to really interact with anyone outside of the bare minimum.
Life becomes a meaningless gray blur of waking up, doing the work I'm assigned around the clinic, putting on a false smile for those around me, and going to bed. Sometimes I even manage to sleep. The others, busy with preparing for Alita's upcoming game, leave me be.
It's a little surprising how quickly I fall, how everything seems to get inverted. There are moments when I wonder what might have set off this latest descent into depression. Was it finding out about Alondra's suicide? Was it seeing the video of my family, hearing their voices again? Was it a combination of those things?
The wondering quickly falls to silence as I just sit in my room with the lights out, pretending to be asleep so I'm not a bother to anyone else. They have far more important things to worry about. The emptiness eating away at me inside hurts, a lot, but it's my problem and I won't burden anyone else with it. Something within decides I've cause everyone enough trouble as it is, and my absence would no doubt be a welcome change.
On this particular night, I'm sitting in my room with just the little lamp on my nightstand providing a dim illumination. Staring out the window at the night sky, my mind filled with a slow jumble of chaotic thoughts, unable to fix on any one of them.
Earlier, I had excused myself from dinner before finishing half of it, telling Ido I wasn't feeling well. Today wasn't a particularly good day. The normally even-tempered Ido was badly stressed enough that he lost his patience, snapping at me on a couple of occasions over some minor screw-ups. Meanwhile, Gerhad was forced to leave early, which did nothing to improve his mood. As it turned out, she had come down with something pretty bad, some sort of flu-like illness. When she left, she was already looking pretty worn down, certainly more so than normal. Ido assures me it's nothing that a few days rest won't fix.
As my mind begins toying with the idea that my being here is placing far too much strain on someone who certainly doesn't need it, and that perhaps it's past time I did something to fix that, there's a knock at the door.
Without turning around, I call out, "Come in."
There's the quiet creak of the door opening, then soft footfalls that I recognize as Ido's. Sure enough, he enters my eye's peripheral vision and sits himself on the corner of the bed. "Hello," he begins, "I'm not intruding, am I?" His tone is his more polite, even-tempered self again.
Keeping my gaze fixed on the lights at the top of a tall building in the distance, I answer listlessly, "No."
He nods. Almost apologetically, he says, "I'm afraid we have a bit of a problem."
Immediately my mind jumps to the conclusion, 'What is it I fucked up this time?' Turning to at least look in his direction, I ask, "What is it?"
Ido pulls in a breath before answering, "I know you haven't been doing very well lately, and I'm sorry about that. However, I'm afraid the next few nights are very important. Alita's team has done well enough that if they can beat this new team they're going up against, they'll be able to forgo having to face them again this month. This will catapult them a full ranking in the League, placing them quite a bit closer to the Championship."
I nod slowly, staring at him, "Okay." I have a feeling I know where this is going, and I'm not particularly happy about it. But then, he doesn't seem all that thrilled, either.
"Being the team's Tuner, I can't afford to miss these next few games, I have to be there to make sure everything works properly. With Gerhad laid up as she is, I'm afraid there'll be no one here to take care of you."
Right then and there, I nearly start packing my things, believing that I'm about to be kicked out. Instead, I calmly say, "Okay."
He purses his lips as if thinking before going on, "As a result, I think I'm going to need to take you along with me." As if worried that I'll interrupt, he hurries on, "You'll be with me in the Pit, not in the stands. So, at least you won't have to worry about a rowdy crowd of fans possibly causing you trouble. You can just sit out of the way and enjoy the show, no one will bother you. I'll see to it, alright?"
In my current state of mind, I'd almost prefer getting kicked out onto the street. Almost. But I can easily understand his problem. He can't leave me unattended, if something were to happen, I'd be damn near helpless on my own. Something also tells me that he's worried I might get into something dangerous. The thought that he won't leave me here like that is actually comforting.
Deciding to change up my mono-syllabic answer, I respond, "Alright." This is followed by a rather involuntary sigh of resignation.
He spreads his hands in a gesture of helplessness, "I'm sorry, Jason, if there were any other option-"
"It's alright, really." And I mean it, sincerely.
He does actually have another option. All of my possessions are already inside my footlocker, and this wheelchair isn't actually mine. It would take him very little effort to evict me and all sign that I was ever here out onto the street, and that would be the end of it. He and his adopted daughter would have their house back, free of a troublesome stranger. The fact that he's not even presenting that as a possibility is almost enough to bring me to tears. The feeling of undeserved kindness nearly tears my heart out.
"Alright then," he says. With a nod, he stands up. He takes a step towards the door, then stops and turns around, "Tomorrow's likely to be a very busy day. I know you haven't been getting much sleep, so I'd recommend something to help you sleep."
"Sure," I say. Fear of addiction has kept me away from a lot of drugs, even if they're normally safe, but right now I'm desperate enough that I don't argue. I just don't have the energy, anyway.
When he leaves to get the sleep aid, I try to stifle another sigh and turn back to the window. Despite still feeling heavily depressed and hurting, something about that exchange leaves me feeling a little better. Maybe it's the realization that he's not giving up on me that easily. My depression-addled mind tries to reject such a sentiment, but our discussion at the breakfast table the other day helps to quiet those doubts, even if it doesn't dispel them entirely.
