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Lucas awoke with a start. From blissful unconsciousness to full alertness in seconds. Such is the wonder of the neural implant.
Shadbolt smiled down at him, arm in a sling.
"It seems very strange at first, but you get used to it quite quickly."
Lucas was horizontal in Doc Black's recovery room. His new CICI had brought him round as quickly as possible, but there was still some numbness in his extremities. There was an ornate framed certificate on the wall, which could be Doc Black's qualification from some renowned African medical college, or it could be a licence to sell fish. Dove was across the room, watching the men with concern.
Doc Black offered a unique service. Unlike most of his competitors, he let clients use his facilities if they were competent surgeons. Shadbolt was a fair surgeon, but in the specialist area of CICI implants and their calibration he was without peer.
The operation he and Doc Black had carried out together (because of Shadbolt's bad arm) was more usually spread over several operations and weeks of careful adjustment of the various parameters in the CICI. The two of them had done the lot in a single seven-hour stint.
All that remained was for Lucas to learn to operate through the buffer of his implant.
As Shadbolt and Dove watched, he tried to sit up, with miserable success.
"It'll come," Dove assured him, cocking her head to suggest a smile.
Doc Black put his head round the door.
"If there's nothing else you need. I'll close up the theatre."
"Okay. Thanks again for helping."
"No worries. It's a pleasure to watch you work." Doc Black's smile faltered. "It may well be the last operation I get here. That and your other project. Business has been kind of slow lately. Now the corps have bought up all the criminal gangs there's just not any freelancers wanting quality independent operations nowadays. Mark my words, the corps are gearing up for trouble. It might be time to leave London altogether." He disappeared.
Shadbolt offered Lucas a glass of water, and mopped at the dribbles he left.
"Dove dear, can I leave you to help Lucas take his first tentative steps? I need to go and get the van resprayed. I'm glad I got the drive-by-wire kit for it, now."
He left.
Lucas turned helpless eyes onto the still figure standing in the corner. Under her mask, Dove bit her lip.
"Okay," she said, letting calm shine through her voice. "Let's just take this nice and slowly." She put her hands on Lucas' shoulders.
"It'll be easier if you sit up."
Lucas was about to protest that he'd be delighted to sit up, but that none of his limbs seemed to agree, when her grip tightened and she mercilessly hoisted him into a sitting position. He felt the beginnings of a blush warm his face. He was also surprised - Dove didn't look that strong.
"Right. Let's just concentrate on one thing at a time. Are you right or left handed?"
Lucas' gaze drifted to his right hand lying motionless on the sterile white sheets.
"Fine. Move that hand."
For a few minutes the room was filled with the awful silence of nothing happening. Sweat beaded on Lucas' brow.
"Hmm. You're trying too hard. Imagine... imagine instructing that hand to move. Be specific. How fast, which direction. Be precise."
For a moment Lucas was still, and then his hand jerked suddenly to life, as if pulled by a string. It flung into the air, then fell on the bed once more. He exhaled sharply. It was like thinking through porridge.
"You're thinking through an interface," said Dove, as if reading his thoughts. "Stay calm. Be precise. This is hard for everyone the first time."
Lucas' legs kicked out randomly, and then his arms spasmed. Dove clapped her hands together, appreciative.
"That's good, that's excellent. Again."
Lucas felt himself do another impression of an insect on its back. Dammit, he was looking stupid in front of the very woman he wanted to impress.
"Again."
A growl left Lucas' lips. Work, damn you, work! He was rewarded by a forceful spring of his legs onto the cold, metal floor. He was standing. Yes, he was standing!
Something dawned on Lucas as the world tilted.
He wasn't standing. He was falling!
Dove moved forward gracefully in order to catch him, but a misplaced command made him kick out, catching her in the stomach. She fell onto the floor, winded, cursing in a language he didn't understand. A moment later he tumbled on top of her, a dead weight.
For a moment they lay there, panting for breath.
"m... sorry," Lucas managed to gasp out through gritted teeth.
The girl looked up at him, and he wished he knew what she was thinking.
"That's okay," she whispered. They lay there a little longer, catching their breath.
"...you... had... this... ?"
Lucas was disbelieving. Dove nodded.
"Shadbolt helped me."
He growled something under his breath as Dove extricated herself from the huddle. She brushed herself down, considering.
"All right, we'll do this another way. But you need to trust me, okay?"
Of course.
She stood still in the middle of the floor, and suddenly Lucas felt another presence in his head - like the tickle of a fly on skin.
"May I...?" she whispered - but he heard the voice in his head.
Yeah.
"Look, I can manoeuvre your hand like this."
Very gently, she demonstrated, her thoughts instructing his CICI. Lucas felt his mind respond, saw his hand move. "Your turn," she said.
By this method of demonstrate and copy, they managed to get him to his feet once more.
"...thanks," he managed to stammer out.
He felt her presence withdraw, and his mind seemed suddenly empty, less warm.
"Any time," she murmured, and he fancied he saw a smile behind the mask.
I wish Shadbolt were here, she thought to herself.
Ben & Mich, 11/06/01
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