The next day, MECH decided to run some "tests". One might be imagining scalpels and a table with straps, but luckily it was far less discomforting. First, there were simple diagnostics... blood pressure, temperature, and a few more non-notables, with nothing worse than a blood draw. I'd been poked and prodded by doctors for years, as they tried and failed to treat my disease. Compared to all of that, one needle poke was tame. Even though these scientists weren't exactly humanitarians, at least they cared about my pain. Otherwise, they wouldn't take steps to minimize it. Though... it is possible that they were only doing what they could to make sure I cooperated.
After these basic preliminary measurements came the harder part: finding my limits. I probably ran for an hour on a treadmill before I had to stop. It wasn't my legs that made me stop, since I wasn't moving muscle, but metal. But, I wasn't used to exercising. I hadn't walked very far in years, and I couldn't even remember the last time I ran. After going some ways, it was my lungs and gut, not my legs, that were screaming out for respite.
They pushed me further the first few times I said I was tired. I expected they would do this - so I said it early. By the end, I was exhausted but not incapacitated. It was better to let them think I was weaker than I was. When they let me off the treadmill, the rest of their tests were done without me having to move much, so I was able to rest. When I was brought back to my curtained little room and the recently bloodied cot I had for a bed, I nearly crashed out of exhaustion. I tossed fitfully for a few minutes, but sleep didn't come, and it took a bit to realize why; the aching in my everywhere was too great for me to take a nap. I reached for the crate next to my cot and found the bottle of painkillers. I sat up to take two more of the small capsules, swallowing them with a bottle of water. By the time I set the plastic bottle back on the floor, I had lost the impulse to nap off my exhaustion. I was too awake for it.
"Hey, Kasey?"
A moment later she pulled the curtain open. "Yeah? You okay?" The girl asked.
I nodded. "They just had me run. How's your brother?"
"Um... well..." she hesitated with her words, but she didn't look upset. So something bad couldn't have happened, right?...
"Is he okay?"
"Yes! Sort of. I'll try to get him out." Kasey walked a bit down the 'hallway' that existed between the two rows of curtained cubicles we had for rooms. The spaces seemed small until you looked upwards, and the giant metal ceiling far above reminded you that you were just one section of an aircraft hangar.
I could hear Kasey talking to her brother Kaden. Cheap medical curtains didn't do a good job of blocking out noise. "Shilo wants to see you, to know you're alright."
"No."
"Please? He doesn't have the metal legs, so it's not like he can come see you himself..."
"I don't want anyone to see me like this. Go away!" I could just imagine Kaden crossing his arms and turning away from her. It was the same thing I would do when my mother used to try to coax me into going to a social event; it was much easier to sit and sulk than to go and have everyone who used to be your friend give you pity looks.
Kasey tried again. "But he looks worse than you! It's not like he's gonna care..."
"I can't even see out of it, Kasey! I'm never going to look normal again! He wanted this and he can cover it up with a pair of pants. How am I going to cover half of my face!?"
Kaden had always seemed to be quiet, at least the few times I played games or talked to him. But now, all the broken fury had torn itself free. I couldn't blame him. Whatever had been done to the twins was terribly wrong.
Kasey didn't come back to my room, and I couldn't exactly blame her. Maybe she was comforting her brother, or maybe she was curled up crying in front of the television. I cared, but, I knew I couldn't do anything about it. Not right now.
I knew that if I gave into boredom and tried to get someone's attention so I could access my metal leg armor, then they would question if I really was too tired to continue on the treadmill. I had to pretend I was exhausted... and I was too tired for them to make me run again. Plus, I needed as much credibility as possible with these people if I wanted to one day tear them down. So I laid on my tan, blood-stained cot with my hands under my head and my pillow under my legs, since the still-healing nodules were sore from using the legs. I was on my side, not wanting to put any pressure on my lower back, where the deepest of my wounds was. Not wounds, I reminded myself. Not really. A wound was unintentional. This was simply post-operative healing of a beneficial implant. Using these terms in my thoughts made me feel slightly better about it all.
I started to drift off into an uncomfortable unconsciousness when I heard a noise that was different than the constant buzzing of saws clanking of metal machinery I had begun to get used to. It was a whispering, faint amongst the clamor. But due to the uselessness of the plastic curtains separating the space, the words were still easily overheard.
"He isn't happy about being taken off recruitment." I didn't recognize the girl's voice. "He's grumpy and when he's grumpy, he starts trouble. And we all get punished for it. If you ask the Colonel to add him back on the team..."
"No." Hillary. "Silas knows what he's doing, Deana, that's why no one questions him. Andrew is brash and arrogant. He doesn't need to be with us recruiting new kids. He might scare someone off or make a scene if things don't go his way."
"But..."
"If we don't convince a new replacement soon, then it won't be good for any of us. Andrew is a detriment to the team."
Deana sighed. "...If MECH wasn't killing so many kids, then we wouldn't need to-" She was cut off by the whirring of gears, and there was an impact, and something hit the ground.
"Don't say that ever again!" Hillary hissed. "We can't think that. Be glad you were strong enough to stay here."
I heard Deana scramble up and leave.
How many people had died here? Kasey mentioned a kid never coming back after being sent to the surgeon. There must be more than just one. Maybe, there were many more before the twins had even arrived here. There were eight of them now. Did MECH start with even more test subjects, for them to need to recruit 'replacements'?
My hatred for this operation was starting to reach new heights, but I buried it deep down. Saying something about it was just going to make everything worse; that, at least, Hillary was right about. But why did she support bringing new kids back to this place? I chose to come here, but I now realized that Hillary's presence had a part to play in the decision. And Andrew, to a much lesser extent. The idea of encouraging new test subjects without making them aware of the associated horrors was... horrifying.
...Did I regret coming here? Would I have still come if I had known everything?
I didn't know. I would have given up anything to be able to walk. And maybe I was here for a higher purpose; maybe I could protect the others. Maybe not, but at the very least, MECH would be experimenting on another person in my place if I hadn't come. Didn't that alone make everything worth it? I didn't know what I might have chosen if I had known the truth, but I couldn't regret the decision all the same.
My thoughts wandered back to Hillary, and I realized that I hadn't heard her retreating footsteps yet. Was she still standing there on the other side of the curtain? I listened carefully, and sure enough, during a short lull in the machinery cacophony on the other side of the hangar, I could hear the very faint sound of her stressed breathing and the movement of the servos in her prosthetic arm. Or maybe I didn't... maybe it was just my imagination.
My curiosity started to get the better of me. I leaned toward the edge of the cot, trying to see if I could see under the curtain dividers. Unfortunately, I couldn't see more than a couple of feet under it from this angle. I didn't want to have to get onto the floor, because then I would have to pull myself back up again and I didn't want to do that. So I put my hands on the edge of the plastic storage crate my belongings were kept in, and inched myself forward, leaning down to see if I could see Hillary's boots from under the divider so I would know if she was really there or if I had just imagined it.
I don't know what possessed me to try to get a peek at a girl in such a stupid way... maybe it was the combined effects of exhaustion, infatuation, and boredom. Whatever it was, it didn't pan out how I expected.
The crate, not meant to hold my weight, flipped over. I went falling forward, knocking the cot over with me. "GAH!" The fall wasn't far, but several of my leg implants had impacted with the concrete. To say it hurt would be an understatement. It was like when you stub your toe really really hard, but instead of being central to my toe, the pain was up and down both of my legs. I reached for the bottle of painkillers, but the contents of the crate had been displaced across the ground. I let out a groan when I realized this.
"What are you doing?" It was Hillary, and she was standing over me.
Oh no.
"Hey... I was just..." I winced as I pushed myself up with my elbows. My face was probably beet red. "I was... reaching for my painkillers! Yes! And I fell off the cot. No biggie." Come on Shilo, calm and collected. Don't make a further fool of yourself.
With a judgmental stare, Hillary frowned at the mess just inches in front of her boots: the tangled clothes and limbs and bits of protruding metal that I was now comprised of. She crossed her arms. "We're you listening in on me?"
"W-What do you mean?"
"I know the walls are practically non-existent. I just assumed you would still be with the medics, running on a treadmill or something."
Well, I had been running on a treadmill an hour ago. How did she know? "I was. But I got tired."
"Hmm, and they let you stop?"
Did they... not normally let people stop when they got too tired? "Obviously. Do you mind giving me a hand up?"
Hillary sighed, and got down beside me. With an arm around the back of her shoulders, she lifted me back onto the cot. "I don't know why they picked a cripple."
"Hey! I'm not a cripple. At least not with the technology here. Isn't that the whole point of all of this? So people can walk or move again?"
She held back a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Why else would they do all this at a secret military base?"
"So... is MECH with the government then?"
She shook her head. "They used to be. Years ago."
I nodded, and it was quiet for a few moments. I don't know why Hillary didn't just walk out. Maybe, like me, she wanted to say something but was afraid to. I finally forced the words out first. "Why are you helping them?"
She bit her lip. It seemed she had been waiting for the question, and not eagerly. "We're all a part of this. You aren't the only kid who wants power they don't have. I'm not kidnapping anyone. I'm just doing my part in the team."
"...Oh."
"You should cooperate more. The more you believe in everything, the less expendable you are."
I wanted to imagine that Hillary was just as scared as the rest of us. She was probably a good person, just caught up in an inescapable situation. Maybe she had parents just like mine who she missed dearly and wanted to find a way back to. "So... are you trying to not be expendable?"
"No!" She suddenly snapped. "I'm never expendable. I was talking about you."
She stood and stormed out, and I was too afraid I would make it worse to try and stop her.
