crying. But no tears came. There was a gaping hole inside her chest, and everything inside it was all dried out.
As the black woman on the radio—with her husky voice and distinctive accent—came to the end of her song, Balot noticed a presence outside the room. Someone was coming. She could even tell that they had stopped outside, pausing. One man. The electronic waves in the air gave her a clear idea not just of his shape but even his looks.
The door opened.
“Looks like somebody’s awake.”
That instant Balot turned off all the lights and stopped the radio, as if by reflex.
The man stepped on a pedal at the entrance to the room. The wheels on Balot’s easy chair gradually started moving away from the door. Balot waited in the corner, achingly still, where the man couldn’t reach her.
“Uh…”
The man cleared his throat and said, “Well, let’s start with introductions. I’m Dr. Easter. I’m in charge of repairing you… uh…or rather I should say I’m the physician in charge. Call me… Doctor, Doc, Duck—as in quack—as you like, really. Basically, I’m, uh,
Balot kept her breathing shallow, watching to make sure that the man didn’t enter any farther into the room.
The Doctor gave another dry cough and pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. The thin film of numbers and displays that were up on his Tech Glasses had disappeared, and they now looked like normal spectacles.
“Hey, take it easy. This is our little hideaway, our
The Doctor paused at this moment. He seemed a little out of breath.
“So, uh…it’d be great if we could have some light back, maybe?”
His tone of voice seemed to imply that he’d explained enough for now, that she really should be convinced that everything was going to be all right.
As it was, the only phrase that really registered with Balot was
That was what convinced Balot. It was as though the rest of the explanation were irrelevant. She had once been in danger but was now in a safe place. In the end, those were the two pertinent facts.
Balot turned the lights on bit by bit. She also turned the radio back on at a low volume.
The Doctor threw the radio an odd glance before pulling up a chair next to Balot’s easy chair and sitting down on it.
“We, uh, took the liberty of dressing you in a change of clothes. Hope you don’t mind. Your old outfit was a pile of ash, anyhow.”
“Now, uh, open up!”
The Doctor now had in his hand the penlight that had been clipped to his breast pocket. He gestured for Balot to open her mouth. She followed his orders. The Doctor’s Tech Glasses started flickering as he looked down her throat, and the layer of numbers and symbols came up again. Eventually the Doctor furrowed his brow and said:
“Nah…no good, just as I thought. The tissue’s all peeled away.”
That was the moment that Balot remembered something was amiss in her throat. Up until now she’d been too distracted by her new
“Can you speak at all?” asked the Doctor. Balot’s mouth stayed open, silent and gaping, while the Doctor turned the penlight off and returned it to its position on his chest.
“Your eardrums and your sense of smell were fairly easy to regenerate. But vocal cords are a bit more complicated, and as they were badly damaged it’s a bit harder to get them stable again. Well, uh, we’ll work something out eventually, no worries.”
It was as if he were talking about a broken appliance for which he couldn’t order any replacement parts.
Balot tried exhaling. Some breath wheezed out, but no voice.
Her throat was like a cavity in a desiccated old tree.
“And how’s the skin? Any aches or itches?”
She gazed absentmindedly at the Doctor and slowly shook her head.
“Impressive things, women. Quick at knowing your own bodies. It’s less than two weeks since the operation, too.”
The Doctor was full of admiration. He was referring to the incident with the lights, earlier. The music from the radio as well. The Doctor knew she hadn’t touched either of them.
“
“Presently about 98 percent of your body’s surface is, uh,
The Doctor cut himself off. As Balot cocked her head to one side, the Doctor held a finger up as if to make it clear that
Balot nodded her head—she’d just experienced what he described for herself, and now she was having it confirmed properly. Furthermore, the Doctor went on to explain thoroughly what else she could expect to experience, using words unknown to her.
“And number three is the ability to manipulate electricity. Your skin is formed of
At this point the Doctor pushed his glasses up a little with his fingers, clearing the lines that ran across the lenses.
“So, you wondering how you came by this newfangled body of yours?”
An extremely direct question. Again Balot nodded, docile.
“While you were in your coma, we took the liberty of having a little Q&A with your consciousness using a set of questions prescribed by the city authorities. In other words, an inquiry of your psyche.
Balot suddenly remembered the dream she’d experienced. A dream about a choice. She had selected something then. But what exactly was it?
“
As if that answered everything.