I am going to warn everyone now to not expect chapters to always be this long. Right now at the start of the story there is simply a lot of setup that needs to be done and so a lot that needs to be written.
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[X] Wait a bit, maybe they have a ride-along program?
- [X] Armsmaster seems good with machines, and I have a lot of machine. Try to stick with him.
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I run down my options. I could join right away, but I have no way of knowing what they actually do. I could also just leave, there don't appear to be any cameras. That leaves me without a way to reliably charge though, and if this truly is government-sponsored then I should be able to get some metal to repair my side. That brings back the issue of not knowing what I would be getting myself into though. I think on the description that Armsmaster gave. 'Uphold law and order' sounds a lot like the police, so would that make them the superpowered cops?
I will also have to research parahumans when I have access to a computer because people don't just develop the ability to ignore physics. Velocity's demonstration should have generated a gust of wind, but looking at the memory the curtains didn't even rustle.
Back to the cop parallel, would they have an intern-like position similar to a ride-along? It would make sense, but if it is the government just because it makes sense doesn't mean it's happening. I'll ask about it when they come back if they don't have a program like that…
Letting the uncertainty fall to the wayside, I pull up my systems feed. I need a name for this screen, calling it my live feed will get confusing if I get access to cameras… I also need to think of a name for myself too.
I decide to figure out my status window's name first because that is less impactful. Status isn't a bad start actually, and it is for my body's state so Body Status? No, that sounds like documentation for a corpse. Physical Status? That could work, maybe one more word so that I can make an acronym for it. Window? PSW? That seems as good as anything.
Now I need to figure out a name for myself. Searching through my systems gives me the same result as before, nothing standing out as a name. This time though, without someone expecting an answer, I can look a bit more and something I notice coming up in file headers and defunct pathways more often than anything else is Icarus. Though often is relative as it only comes up a handful of times compared to the once or twice that other things are referenced.
Icarus, the man who flew too close to the sun. It would serve as a reminder not to get cocky, but Icarus also died so it has some baggage. That could also make people underestimate me for a time, naming myself that might make people think I believe myself doomed to fail. It is serviceable for now, and I can always change it later.
Returning my attention to the newly named Physical Status Window I actually look at myself. I seem to be mostly hollow, with only a metal structure that rudimentary resembles a skeleton to let me move. Two primary processing centers seem to be, well, me. The diagrams I can pull up show them to be cubes rotated so that they are resting on their corner. The CPCs or Central Processing Centers are located in my skull and right where my ribs would end on my left side if I had ribs anyway and they are only about the size of a softball. It also looks like I am meant to have a third where my damage is, but it is completely missing. Watching myself like this is kind of odd, I can move my arm and see the signal leave my CPCs and travel to the arm to move it. In truth, it is too fast for me to truly see it, but I can sort of follow it as it leaves the impression of an afterimage. 'Watching' the signals travel between my CPCs I can tell that both are roughly doing the same amount of work and a few tests alongside various loose files I read shows that I should be able to exist if only one is running. Though I am not eager to test that theory in any measure.
Observing the load balancing a bit more I have the edges of a theory, the third CPC would have been configured in such a way too. When it got destroyed, I would have had to immediately shut down to rebalance everything. Maybe that's what happened? It wouldn't explain why I only activated at low battery though, so maybe not.
A brief scan reveals two foreign files. I can tell they are foreign due to the fact they look to be written in a completely different style than the rest of me. Perhaps the block on my memory is coming from those?
I try to mentally grab them to get a better look, only for it 'dodge' my attempt and give me the experience of a non-physical shock, not a strong one, just about the strength of a static shock. The fact that it happened in my mind completely throws me through a loop though. An examination of the nearby systems shows that they are ignorant of the errant files' existence as well as the fact that said files don't seem to connect to anything. I try to grab them again and am given another, slightly stronger shock.
I can see a pattern when it is as obvious as this. For whatever reason, I can't interact with the files right now, which is something I will have to fix soon. Instead, I construct a quarantine zone around them. Right as I am closing the metaphorical gates, the files disappear. Immediately initiating a new scan I find them rather quickly, in a completely different area. I look but can't find any transfer logs or even a route that could have piggybacked on to take them from where they were to where they are.
I take a step back and observe. Innocuous, two files with no connections or even a dedicated location, but with possibly anything inside. A virus, remote access, pictures of the night sky, I simply don't know. I cannot open them, and I can't cut them off from the rest of myself. It is a threat tucked into a matching set of incomprehensible data, the scan that let me see its foreign coding also shows that there are symbols used that shouldn't even be available in my system. I know that because looking through my options they don't appear anywhere, I could make the symbols but they would be of no use to me.
An image of the small camera next to me floats across the forefront of my mind. That could work, assuming the file doesn't move again. With a small bit of thinking I can make a monitor program that will 'watch' the files and their surroundings to see if there are any changes, I also give it access to my processor readouts so that it can detect abnormal spikes in resource drain. That part won't help if the resources are already being used but I am guessing that the files are in a dormant state.
Pulling my attention back to the PSW I see that the time estimate for overheating has doubled, probably because I have been laying down. The heat buildup is my most pressing issue, looking at where the coolant would so I see that the paths take it through the damage on my side so even if I got some it would simply leak out. What coolant did I even use before? A search finds some notes that refer to it as engine coolant like what would be used in a car. This is good because that is not some exotic liquid and could be picked up at a corner store. I will need to fix the piping as soon as possible so that I can get it flowing again.
Dismissing everything from my vision I close my eyes, I notice I was distracted for slightly less than an hour which is something I will have to be careful of. Now that I have an objective for repairs I can return my thoughts to planning should my internship request not be possible.
After 40 minutes of brainstorming, to little outcome, I notice a faint buzzing sensation that feels like it is one step removed from my body. Looking around doesn't show that anything has changed and I haven't heard anything other than the buzz of the overhead lights. Turning my attention inwards to the feeling gleans me no new information, just that it seems to be originating from all directions. I can almost mentally trace it though, it seems to be running just behind the wall and above the ceiling tiles. A scan shows nothing was accidentally activated, so it isn't junk data from a malfunction. It is probably an error in my proprioception, something else I will have to fix.
While looking at the files in charge of my proprioception I end up wandering to the parts that control my sense of touch. While examining them I notice a simulation that has been suspended due to a buildup of runtime errors. Following its code line, I see it running to the damage in my side. That means this simulation is responsible for the pain that I felt while laying at the bottom of the ocean. I nearly close it on reflex, but self-preservation ensures I don't make snap decisions regarding my code since it is nearly equivalent to altering the neurons in a brain though less dangerous. Thinking about it, this simulation is responsible for the pain and it isn't running because it errored out. The spikes of pain are different events and more relevant to the motion involved, while the suspended one is the for the fact I have a gaping hole in my torso. If I close it, the pain would return because my body would not find an event trigger for the damage like what is happening now. So instead I pause it, ensuring the errors can't be automatically dealt with causing the pain to come back.
I feel a mix of accomplishment and shame. On one hand, I prevented a debilitatingly painful event from happening to me again. On the other hand, I didn't even realize that I was lacking the pain in my side. The mixing of the two emotions is strange and I don't know how to describe the result.
A notification draws my attention to a timer I didn't even know was going. It shows there are 20 minutes until the two-hour estimate that Velocity gave. Which put me back onto the track of trying to figure out what I am going to say… in my broken voice.
I look at the speaker for my voice I find a few things. First I don't have a throat, there is simply a speaker right where my pharynx would be, though I do have a tongue for some reason. The second is that the speaker responsible for my voice is four speakers. One of which is returning damage on the diagnostic. Shutting that one off I also calibrate the others so that the static hopefully goes away. Once that is finished I test my voice with a basic pangram.
"The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." My voice sounds lukewarm with a hit of mirth as well as an undertone that sounds like steel.
I never thought I would use steel to describe the sound of a voice, but it fits the edge of metallicity that seems to coat my words, which is something I can't decide if I want to keep or program out. What is important though is that my voice is clean and doesn't sound like a dying… stereo isn't quite the right follow-up, but I can't think of what other cargo should be on that train of thought.
My brain momentarily slows down. What? What did I just think? Cargo on the train of thought? I mean it fits but… where did that come from? I move on, keenly aware of the timer counting down now that I know it's there.
'I am not opposed to joining, but I would like to see everything in action.' Could work, but seems rehearsed.
'I wouldn't mind joining, but first I want to know what I am getting into.' That fits better, the same outcome as the first request but less stiff.
I start thinking of a different way to ask entirely but am stopped by the sound of two pairs of boots on the tile. A check of the timer shows 15 minutes left, which means they are early. Or it would if I didn't remember the fact that Velocity said 'about two hours' meaning it was more of a timeframe and not a schedule.
Dismissing the now useless timer I take stock of myself and see the still folded-over hospital gown laying on the blankets. Quickly grabbing it I pull my arm back into the right sleeve, covering the damage, and lay the other side of the gown on top of my charging hatch, giving me a bit more coverage.
Just as I finish there is the knock of metal on metal, making it Armsmaster knocking with his powered armor, but this time he does not simply walk it. So I call out for him to come in with my repaired voice.
The two costumed men enter and Velocity is the first to pipe up.
"Your voice is different, less… Static-y." The last word is said with a questioning lilt despite it being a statement.
"Yes, a quick diagnostic showed the problem was a damaged speaker and miscalibration. Now I can talk without sounding like a dying megaphone." Megaphone! Megaphone would have worked as a follow-up to my earlier thought.
"How did you repair the broken speaker?" Armsmaster asks with curiosity.
"I didn't," I answer honestly. "I just turned it off, I can't get as loud now but I don't think I will be yelling in the near future so it's not an issue."
Armsmaster nods as Velocity plops down into the stool. He sits in such a way that the chair spins around before stopping when he is facing me again.
"So!" He says clapping his hands and then rubbing them together. "Did you come to a decision?"
Since I had something prepared I can respond right away. "Yes. I wouldn't mind joining, but first I want to know what I am getting into. Perhaps you have some sort of internship or ride-along program that I could take before fully committing or rejecting the offer?"
"A wise choice," Armsmaster says with approval in his voice. "We have systems like that in place. If you have enough charge to move around we can get the paperwork for both the SIDE program as well as your identification."
A look at my battery shows that I am back to 18 hours of uptime, which is very good. "I am currently at eighteen hours of charge which should be sufficient until I can plug back in. The main issue is that I will overheat after five hours of light activity, I need to acquire coolant since mine is all gone. Before I can do that though, I need to repair the pipes for said coolant, or else it will simply drain back out of me."
Velocity sucks air in through his teeth at that. "Yikes." He moves to say something else but is cut off by Armsmaster.
"I should have the equipment needed for such repairs in my lab, I also think I have enough spare parts laying around that you can get what you need without issue. Unless your coolant is a Tinker formula?" I ignore the fact that I don't know what a 'Tinker formula' would be because I can still understand the question.
"No, not as far as I can tell. It seems to be simple engine coolant like what is used in cars."
"That is convenient," Armsmaster says. "My lab is not currently stocked to make any sort of chemicals."
"So we taking him to your lab then?" Velocity asks Armsmaster.
"Yes," he responds decisively. "Five hours is a very short duration and excess heat is very dangerous for electronics. I don't want to risk permanent damage to someone."
Velocity spins to face me again and stands up. "Alright, you able to walk?"
"Yes. Can you unplug me so that I can put my arm through the sleeve before getting up?" At that, both the parahumans look at one another and Armsmaster speaks up.
"We forgot to grab him a change of clothes. Velocity?"
"On it." With that, he is gone in a red blur, with the swinging curtain as the only evidence of his path.
Armsmaster gives an apology as he walks over and unplugs me, my system is quick to throw up its objection to that.
Warning: Battery Low
Estimated Remaining Time Active: 18 Hours
Closing the alert I take the cord he is handing to me and let it reel back into my chest. I then close the hatch with a soft
Click and return my arm to the sleeve of the gown. Velocity then walks in carrying a set of plain black clothes and a pair of boots.
"Here you go, don't worry I grabbed the stretchy pants so they should fit." He sets them on the end of the bed and then steps back out of the space with Armsmaster following him. The curtain is drawn and I am free to change.
Sanding up I am given a sharp reminder that disturbing my side will still give me pain. Moving more carefully I take off the hospital gown. Looking at myself I can see abs down I am human until my mechanical legs start at my hips.
Unfolding the clothes I put on the underwear and black slacks that are, true enough, slightly stretchy. The shirt is short-sleeved and about three inches in size, where the breast pocket would be, if there were one, is a blue shield with the letters P.R.T. in it. Shrugging I put it on. The shirt is a bit tight, though I ignore the mildly constricting sensation as it doesn't actually impact my movement. I am glad that the edges of my damage are curved lightly inwards and not outwards so the shirt isn't catching on anything sharp. I also slip on the socks and try out the boots, finding them to fit surprisingly well.
Looking over the room to make sure I didn't forget anything, before remembering I don't own anything, I remake my bed before stepping past the curtain.
Looking past the two costumed people and observing the room I can see that I was placed in the middle. There are seven sectioned areas on each side of the room. The sterile white is illuminated by another strip of harsh fluorescence. With nothing of interest catching my eye I let walk over to my escorts.
Armsmaster greets me with, "My lab is not particularly close to the infirmary. Stick close, I will get you through any security checkpoints since you don't have any form of ID on you. Actually. Velocity, can you see about getting him a pass?"
Velocity bobs his head. "Yeah sure, that would make getting around easier and I'm not gonna understand the Tinker babel that is probably going to happen." With that, he gives a quick salute and then is off.
Armsmaster starts walking towards the exit and I follow the
Clunk, Clunk, Clunk of his boots. After a few steps, my system throws another alert at me about overheating that I immediately close. He turns his head to look at me as he is opening the door before stepping to the side and holding it open. I pass the threshold with a thank you and receive a single nod in return.
As I exit I see two people are standing on either side of the doorway. They are wearing black outfits that resemble riot gear, except their faces are completely obscured. The way the outfit is made also makes it impossible to tell if they are a man or woman. On the right side of their chest is the same logo as on my shirt save it is slightly bigger to fit the extra 'E.N.E.' that is within the shield. Neither reacts to us leaving and Armsmaster doesn't acknowledge them so I stop examining them and follow after him.
We begin walking down a long hallway that is also painted white, though this one is closer to eggshell and is easier on the eyes than the stark white of the infirmary. Glancing behind me I see a T-intersection and no landmarks of any sort and decide the fact that my memory is perfect is quite the boon as I won't have to worry about not remembering the path.
We make some turns as we walk in silence and I see that nearly every door is an identical brown with a leaver handle. As we walk Armsmaster gradually pulls ahead of me, and I can't speed up to match his pace without aggravating my side. I would ask him to slow down but have a weird twisting sensation at the thought of breaking the silence that keeps me quiet.
Armsmaster takes a breath like he is about to say something, he takes a glance back and sees me about four feet behind him. His mouth closes and is set into a line.
"Is there a reason you are so far behind me?" he asks in a neutral tone.
"I can't walk that fast right now."
"Oh, I can slow down." He says waiting for me to catch up. When I am beside him he returns to walking but peaks at me a few times to ensure he is matching my pace. "Why did you not say anything?"
I shrug helplessly, not knowing what to say. He makes a noncommittal sound.
"Regardless, I was going to ask you if the metal composition mattered."
"What?" What is he referring to?
"I don't know if your body is made of Tinker alloys or normal metal. I also don't know if using a metal that doesn't match the rest of your body will cause any issues."
"No, it shouldn't. Why would it?"
"Bodies often reject foreign objects, I wanted to make sure that your body would not suffer rejection."
It is a nice sentiment, but it doesn't apply to me. Metal is metal and I don't have anything like an immune system that would reject it.
"Thank you," I say. "But I am mechanical, such things don't apply to me."
"There are recorded instances of Case 53s needing artificial materials to match the ones in their bodies else they suffer rejection." He explains.
An "Oh," is all the response I can give to that.
After a few more corners and mark-less hallways, we enter an elevator. One smooth ride, so smooth I can't tell if we traveled up or down and addition I didn't see Armsmaster press any buttons, and none are lit up, the doors open again.
As we walk out we are met with four of those black-suited PRT ENE people, except this time they have what look like flamethrowers pointed at us.
"Stop!" One of them shouts at us and another walks up closer holding out a hand "Identification and password!"
A small compartment on Armsmaster's suit opens up and he removes an object just a bit larger than a USB thumb drive. He hands it over and says "Armsmaster Zulu Three, Today's menu had steak." The man nods and hands the object back then turns to me and holds out his hand.
I look to Armsmaster but keep the… officer, soldier? Person. I keep the person in my peripheral. Seeing me not doing anything and looking at Armsmaster seems to get them upset because the one nearest to me takes a step back and the remaining three tense up. Before anything can happen though Armsmaster speaks up.
"Hold! He is an injured Case 53 that needs to be treated in my lab. Yetta Guesto Charlie Five-Seven Cassidy."
"Show me this injury." The close one barks. Armsmaster slightly turns his head to me.
Taking the cue for what it is I slowly raise my shirt and expose the hole in my side. After it is revealed all those in black significantly relax. I can't hear them letting out sighs but I can see a few chests fall. I slide my shirt back down.
Then in a much friendlier voice, the one near us says to Armsmaster, "Sorry about that sir, but we had to be sure."
"I understand," is the blunt reply they receive. They then step to the side and let us pass which Armsmaster does straight away. After we round the first corner and break line of sight from them I feel the tension flow out of me that I hadn't even realized was building up. I also notice I had been hovering over the trigger for the blade-like devices in my forearms and take my metaphorical hand away from the trigger, that is something I will have to be careful of if I had activated those I have no doubt we would have been melted.
Gesturing back the way we came I, with a bit of heat in my voice, ask, "What the heck was that?"
"That was the security checkpoint I mentioned we may run into." He calmly responds.
"And the passphrases?" I question, that was one of the more confusing parts. The flamethrowers make sense, we both use machines of some kind and as Armsmaster said earlier, overheating is bad.
"Those were Master and or Stranger passwords. They rotate every so often." Which doesn't help at all, because I have no idea what a 'Master' or 'Stranger' is.
I can feel the capitalization in his voice like when he mentions Tinkering, so it probably has something to do with parahumans. Both my curiosity at this strange world and the need to know why I was nearly melted pushed me to continue the conversation.
"What are Master and or Strangers?" I see his lips press together for a moment at that.
"Apologies. All other Case 53 I have met with so soon after waking up have been far less calm than you, I keep forgetting you still lack important information." I feel a bit bad for getting upset with his cryptic replies now. He simply forgot he needs to treat me with kid gloves right now instead of like a normal person. He continues, oblivious to my thoughts. "Master capes are people with the ability to exert a degree of control over minions of some kind or over people. Strangers are capes with the ability to alter the perception people have of them in some way." He pauses for a brief second before following up on his follow-up statement. "Cape is the colloquial term for a parahuman. It comes from when they first emerged and costumes were more derivative of comic book heroes, many of whom feature capes on their outfits. That lead to many of the early suits featuring capes in some fashion."
I digest that information as we come to a small decline with a landing, then another decline in the other direction. It looks like someone replaced a staircase with ramps. Pushing the odd structure of the building to the back of my mind I think about the new information I was given. People that can influence other people or change how people see them. Ordinary people can do that as well but since it is from a parahuman I imagine the effects are in some way more. For the government that opens up a large security risk, there being a system to help curb them makes sense. Honestly, the checkpoint is the strongest bit of evidence I have seen that points to this operation truly being a government affair. I see Armsmaster's helmet turn slightly to look at me so, without being sure what to say, I respond with my conclusions.
"Parahumans that can bypass security are a large risk, so there being a system makes sense. The weapons were there to take care of us if I was influencing you, right?" I get a nod at that.
We turn another corner and on the right wall, I see a door on the right side of the hall with more personality than all the other doors we have passed on the way here combined. I guess that it is Armsmaster's lab and am proven right as we stop next to it. There is a wheel handle on a door that looks like it is strong enough to survive a bomb and he simply turns is and the door opens. I am a bit surprised that there is no lock for how heavy duty it is.
Passing through the door, that is closed behind me, I am met with a large room that looks like someone took a mechanic's shop, a sci-fi R and D department, and the house of an electronics hoarder then dropped them into a blender and spread the result over the room. There are six long sturdy-looking tables in the center of the room. The back wall has cupboards and cabinets, the right side as a large whiteboard filled with diagrams and long strings of code. There is also a sectioned-off area behind a curtain in the back corner of the room on that side. The left wall has a long counter running the length of the room, it is covered with miscellaneous items from a microscope to four milk cartons filled with water, a sink, and a mini kitchen-looking area as well as a metal keg with a biohazard sticker proudly facing the room. The room's walls are also not the ubiquitous white that everything else has been, but a cool blue color that matches Armsmaster's suit's coat of paint. Looking to the front wall I am greeted by the sight of two windows stretching the length of the wall even though my memory shows that the hallway's wall looked completely normal.
My misaligned sense of proprioception also lights up like a light show, I put off trying to fix that since it isn't actively harming me in any way and is just a tad distracting.
I am guided to an oversized chair/bench hybrid thing. He explains it is where he sets his suits when he performs maintenance. He then asks me to hang on for a minute as he checks up on a few things. I take off my shirt and lay it on one of the armrests as I watch him wake up a computer, and mess around on it for a few minutes. He then walks to another table with a different computer and types out something very long. Before he straightens up from his bent position and looks at me.
"What kind of piping do you need?" A look at my schematics shows what all the other pipes are made from, braided stainless steel surrounding an inner tube of polyvinyl chloride. Though a simple rubber tube should work for now.
"If you have any steel flex tubes those would be ideal, but there should be no issues with rubber as a stopgap if you don't have any."
"I some, how wide do you need?" I take a look before replying.
"The best size would be about four inches."
"I have three-inch tubes, would that cause any major issues?" Would it?
A look reveals the answer to be sort of, but not really. The small piping will mean my pump will have to work harder to keep the same flow rate, but the extra work won't be enough to cause any issues for at least six months on the low end.
"Not anything that is of immediate concern. My pump will just have to work a bit harder. The strain isn't estimated to be an issue for half a year. I hope that it won't still be an issue by that point."
"I will not be." He responds with such certainty in his voice I can't help but immediately agree.
He makes his way to a cabinet and opens it to show it full of wires, pipes, tubes, rods, and all things long like that. Reaching right to them he pulls out two coils of what I need. As he is walking back he asks another question.
"How are they secured to your cha— your body?" I ignore the aborted word because it's not worth the worry. Instead, I return my attention to my schematics.
"It looks to be secured with a screw. Which means we will have to make that screw to attach it to the pipe."
"How wide is the screw?" He asks setting the piping on a nearby table.
"Four and an eighth inches, but because the pipe is smaller the inside will have to a bit of a funnel leading to the passage." I get an absent-minded nodding in return.
He wordlessly returns to the room and starts looking through the parts on one of the tables. He makes a small 'aha' and grabs about five items and walks back over to me. He holds out his hand and shows me a set of end screws. Taking one I look at it and am a bit startled as a line of measurement draws itself across my vision. Rotating the screw the measurement follows the top opening and tells me in a floating number that it is indeed 4 ⅛". Turning it upside down the measurement jumps to the bottom opening and tells me it is just wider than three inches, enough space to slide the metal tube into. I dismiss the line and look at the angle of the twists and compare that to the twists on the port. There are nearly double the number of twists on the screw than there are on me, but they are spaced so that two can fit on each path which means it can still be used.
I look up at Arsmaster, who has put the clothes next to the piping while I was looking at this one.
"These will work, the fit will be tight but I don't want this coming loose anyway." At that, a big self-satisfied grin splits the part of his face I can see, the strongest display of emotion from him I've seen.
"And Dragon keeps saying I need to get rid of some of my old parts. This is a perfect example I why I don't. Who knows when or why I might need them." I don't know who Dragon is, probably another parahuman somewhere in the building, but Armsmaster has a friendly relationship with them if they are not already friends. "I have some adhesive as well how long do you need the sections to be? And how many sections?'
I look at the path the coolant line takes on my other side, and see it takes it through the CPC. So I return once more to my PSW and see the length the broken section has.
"I need it to be about eighteen inches. A little longer won't be bad though." Most of my torso is hollow anyway, I can simply tuck it in.
He nods, takes the supplies over to one of the machines on a table, and starts setting it up, a low
Whirring sound tells me it's on.
As he is working on that I figure out the procedure that will need to be done. Once the tubes are attached how do I get the coolant into them? Oh, my throat has a flap and a channel to it. A quick test shows that all of them are working and so the coolant shouldn't end up anywhere but the lines it is meant to be in. …The lines that are probably gunked up with ocean silt. I could run water through the lines, then unscrew the cord to let the water drain. Maybe twice just to be sure.
The
Whirring stops and Armsmaster makes his way back over to me, holding a completed tube. I speak up before he can start asking more questions.
"The lines for the coolant are probably full of ocean sludge, I would like to clean them. Do you have water and a bucket or drain I could pour the dirty water into?"
Armsmaster stops walking for just a moment and his mouth pulls into a slight frown.
"Why were you in the ocean?"
"I woke up on the seafloor."
"How did you get back to shore?"
I walked along the bottom towards the skyscrapers I could see through the water. I got a bit off course when it got dark though."
"Odd." Is all he says and in a way, I can't tell his feelings on the matter. He then hands me the cable. "Would you mind if I observe your repairs once more?" I've already done it, no point in drawing the line after we have crossed it.
"That's fine."
"Thank you," he says as he gets up and moves to the long counter. I wait to do anything so that he can watch and instead follow his movements to see what he is doing.
Once he reaches the counter he reaches for one of the water jugs before changing his mind and changing his target to a cupboard door. Opening it up and removing a jug from there. He moves and opens a different cupboard takes out a white painter's bucket and returns to me setting it on the ground of my damaged side. I look at him as he takes a seat and he makes a 'proceed' motion with his hands.
Nodding I reach in and grasp the bottom connector as it is in an easier position. As I start to unscrew the broken part I can't help the painful Hiss that slips past my lips as I try to ignore the pain of what feels like I am unscrewing a joint.
"Hold on," Armsmaster says, and I happily stop and take the opportunity to catch my breath. Another oddity considering I don't need to breathe. I turn my attention from the hole to him. He has his mouth drawn into a line that almost looks like worry. "Is that painful? Can you feel that?"
"Y-Yeah." I stutter? I can stutter? I guess twisting a part of myself is more painful than I thought.
His mouth falls into a frown. "Are you able to turn your sense of pain off?"
I look to the area responsible for the simulations and see if I could. Looking at all the connections I come to an unfavorable conclusion. "No. My sense of proprioception is too closely tied to my sense of touch, if I shut off my sense of pain I will lose my sense of proprioception which would make it impossible for me to make the repairs. And the events are too fast and distracting for me to suspend them as they are happening."
"Hmmm. I don't like it. I would offer to do the repairs myself, but these are critical systems and I don't want to make a mistake. Just, don't rush because I'm here, take your time if you need to."
Giving my affirmative I restart my efforts. I test turning it slowly but it feels the same or close enough that I can't tell the difference, so I just take it off as fast as I can. I hand it over to Armsmaster to get it out of the way and he sets it off to the side. The other end is connected closer to my shoulder and is in a more awkward position so it takes a few minutes to get my arm and hand into a spot where I can unscrew it, with only a few painful bumps. Once positioned though it isn't any harder for me to remove this end than it was for the other one. Once I have it off I hand it over as well and then grab the tubing.
Deciding to hook it to the top first so that there will be a bit more room to maneuver to the tough location. As I start to hook it on I find that screwing it on is an infinitely better feeling. It feels like the burst of relief that you feel when you pop your shoulder back into place but drawn out over the course of screwing it on, I can't help but let out a sigh. Screwing the bottom one is a similarly calming experience. I leave the excess length hanging out of the hole so that I can easily point it into the bucket once the water has cycled a few times.
Looking I notice the water has been set next to my leg so I grab hold of it and twist the top off. I bring it to my lips and take a few big gulps. I feel it move funnel into the top of my pump and start moving. The direction the fluid moves means that I will need to unscrew the bottom hook to have it flow out of me nicely.
Setting down the half-empty jug and closing it back up I see Armsmaster's mouth open before he is cut off by the
Clunk Clunk-Clunk Clunk Clunk of someone rasping at the door. Looking I can't see anyone through the windows. Armsmaster calls out that it is open in a voice far too quiet to make it past the heavy door, but the person on the other side seems to hear him fine since the door starts moving.
Velocity walks in and makes his way to us at normal speed.
"Velocity," Armsmaster begins. "I thought the paperwork would take longer."
"Well, I'm not done yet. I was filling out the forms and realized that I didn't have anything to put down for our friend's name." He then turns to me, "You got anything picked out, or do you need a minute? Don't worry about it too much, this paperwork will expire so switching your name later isn't an issue."
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What should my name be?
- [X] Stick with Icarus
- [X] Ask for suggestions
- [X] Go with Armsmaster's suggestion of Oliver. One of the most popular names of 2009.
- [X] Go with Velocity's suggestion.
(Formatting is being weird. The Write-In option is meant to be connected to Velocity's suggestion. Wait, I think it's working now.)
Not a super impactful choice this time around, but the narrative had a natural break here so it works. The next chapter, or the one after depending on how things go, will have a vitally important choice so I don't mind having less important choices like this.
I also want to know people's opinions on Interludes. Would you like to see them? If people are not against the idea and I do write them keep in mind it is unlikely that they will include a vote. They will also likely be rather uncommon. Speaking of extra content I don't mind Omakes, I know there is not enough content for one yet by far, nor will there be any time soon, but I know that some authors don't like them so I just wanted to say that I, myself, don't mind.
