Ren

The kid groaned as he came around. His back was stiff, his mouth dry, his eyelids heavy, and his nose itched. He raised his hand to scratch his nose but found that his wrists instead tugged against the straps tying him down to the table. Stuck! The vitals monitors beside him began to beep as his heartrate increased. Panic shot through him, banishing the fog of drowsiness from his mind, as he struggled further and scanned the room for any sign of Viktor. He didn't see the scientist, but he had noticed all the tubes that were now sticking out of him. He craned his neck as far as he could to try and sneak a peek at his leg, but before he could see anything, Viktor entered the room. He strode over to the kid and looked down at him.

"You are finally awake," he said.

At the sight of Viktor, the kid began to calm.

"Yes, I am," the kind answered, "nothing like a good scare to make you very awake and very alert. So, uh can you please untie me? I could really use a stretch."

He tugged at the straps to emphasize his point.

"I will unstrap you, but I would not recommend doing more than sitting up. You were asleep for three days," Viktor said.

"Three days?"

"Your body was exceedingly weak after the surgery. I allowed it time to convalesce and have been providing it with a much needed supply of intravenous fluids, nutrients, and medicinal chemicals. It has been healing at a steady rate. The swelling around the stump has also been decreasing at an acceptable rate."

"Oh, okay then," the boy mumbled, still trying to process what Viktor was saying, "Can I see it?"

Viktor nodded and removed the straps on the kid's wrists. He grabbed the kid's arm and helped him to sit up so he wouldn't disturb the IVs he was hooked up to. Immediately, the kid grabbed his head and screwed his eyes shut as an intense wave of nausea came over him. Viktor had anticipated this and handed the kid a bowl in which to vomit. He did.

Viktor took the spoiled bowl back and set it aside before returning to support the kid until the nausea passed. After several minutes of holding his own head and cursing the sun, the moon, the Sump, and everything else, the boy finally reopened his eyes. At the sight of the sock around his stump, they grew wide. He was silent for a minute.

"So it's really gone then," he finally said.

"Removed and properly incinerated," Viktor answered.

The kid reached down to touch it but Viktor grabbed his wrist.

"Do not touch it," Viktor ordered, "it still requires ample time to heal. If you do anything with it today it will be light stretching, and only under my direct supervision. Fail to comply and I will strap you down again. Is that clear?"

"Yes. Crystal."

The kid's stomach growled.

"You have been fed intravenously the last few days," Viktor said, "I will fetch you food. Do not touch your tubes."

"I already said I wouldn't, promise. And also, thank you."

Viktor left without a response. He returned minutes later flanked by his automatons. One carried a shirt as plain and sterile as the room and the other carried a hot bowl of soup. Viktor pushed a rolling tray table to rest over the kid's lap before sitting down in a chair and opening a journal.

"Your stomach isn't strong enough for solid food." Viktor explained as he motioned for the automaton to give him the soup, "eat slowly, and while you eat you will answer my questions."

The kid nodded as he tore into his food, uncaring of how it scalded his tongue.

"I have recorded most of your vital information; sex, height, weight, blood type," Viktor said, "but I still require more information. What is your age?"

"Sixteen," the boy answered between ravenous spoonfuls of soup.

"How long had you been living on the streets?"

"About a year."

"Your face shows signs of Shimmer. When was your last exposure and have you been using other narcotics?"

"I haven't been able to afford food, never mind Shimmer. I only ever did Shimmer and it's been weeks since I've used it. I was trying to go clean."

"Can you be more specific?"

"I don't know, seven weeks I think."

"Are you carrying any diseases?"

"What? No! None."

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"Sunflower seeds, but that's it."

"Outside of what I have treated, are there other injuries that may hamper your ability to accept a prosthetic?"

"None that I know of."

"That answer will have to suffice. Lastly, is there any other medical condition you have that I should know about?"

"Not really."

Viktor finished his writing, closed his journal, and turned to leave.

"I will return later," he said, "if your need is dire, you may send the automatons to find me."

"Wait, that's it?" the kid asked, "that's all the information you consider vital? Age, allergies, and diseases?"

"Is there other information you deem vital for your recovery?"

"My name, perhaps?"

"Your name is irrelevant. Your designation in my notes is N-12."

To prove his point, Viktor turned the journal around to Ren and pointed to the top of the page. The neatly printed read:

Day 4

Project – Subject: N-12

"N-12?" the kid protested, "that's just a letter and number. It's not the same as a name."

"Correct," Viktor responded, "names can be shared by individuals, while you are the only, and will be the only, N-12 in my records. If you have any actually vital information, speak now. I have other matters to attend to."

"It's Renatus, by the way. Ren."

"Eat and rest, N-12. I shall return later."

Ren said nothing and Viktor departed.