Something Like Lightning

by Jay Bell

  Kelly mustered up a smile, but as they waited for his brother to return, he felt increasingly uneasy about the implications. Once he had his crutches and the car was in motion, he decided to speak his mind before it was too late. “Listen, this is all really exciting, but even a normal C-Leg is fifty thousand. I’m not sure what my insurance will cover, especially if I’m abroad, and—”

  “You’ll be field-testing the Genium model,” Marcello interrupted. “Why, you’ll practically be doing Ottobock a favor.”

  “But does that make it free?” Kelly pressed.

  Marcello raised an eyebrow. “Nothing in this world comes free except for heartache and death. Now, on that happy note, let’s have a drink. That juice left the strangest taste in my mouth. How can I describe it?”

  “Healthy?” Nathaniel suggested.

  “That must be it.” Marcello appeared disturbed by the concept. “Thankfully, the cure for most ailments can be found sitting in a bucket of ice. Who would care to join me?”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “We talked about this. From now on you’re waiting until a respectable time of day before you start drinking.” Kelly grinned. “You’re making him wait until dinner?”

  “Until lunch,” Marcello snapped, “but brunch isn’t so far away and is damn near the same thing.”

  “As soon as we’re dropped off at the airport,” Nathaniel said, “I’m instructing the driver to take you to the nearest Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.”

  “You’ll find it’s no use,” Marcello said with a casual shrug. “I’ve been banned, nationwide, from all such meetings.”

  “You’re full of it,” Nathaniel said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not! They accused me of being the most prolific enabler the world has ever known, to which I replied that Jesus has me beat by a few thousand years.”

  Nathaniel scowled. “Too bad he’s not here, because he could turn water—and that’s all you’re getting—into wine.”

  Kelly nudged Nathaniel with his foot, pleading with his eyes. Sure, it might be eight in the morning on a Monday, but today they had reason to celebrate. And a tediously long flight to sleep through. After that, who knew what the future might hold?

  Chapter Twenty

  Germany had never really been on Kelly’s radar. In grade school, he had met a girl whose family had recently immigrated to the States. She seemed perfectly ordinary except for her accent. Kelly knew of the Berlin Wall, and of course the shadow of World War II still loomed over the globe. He remembered first learning about the Holocaust in school and seeing photos so disturbing that he wished such horrors were impossible. But they weren’t. So aside from key historical events and a very friendly third-grader, Kelly knew little about the land they had arrived in.

  On the flight over the Atlantic, he had imagined a country based on German efficiency and design—the buildings smooth and white, the people slim and dressed in black. No nonsense, just productivity and competence. So when the taxi drove them through the center of Berlin to their hotel, what he noticed first was spray-painted graffiti. Few surfaces weren’t covered in at least a primitive tag of some sort: the long stone apartment buildings that filled entire blocks, the trains and streetcars that ran alongside traffic, street signs, phone booths, bus stops—all seemed to have been marked by the most prolific artist in the world. Or artists, since the graffiti ranged from ridiculously amateur scribbles to astoundingly skillful murals.

  The German people were just as varied as the art. Sure, he spotted a few thin-faced individuals who appeared to be perpetually sucking a lemon, but he also saw punks straight out of the eighties, hot young guys in the most generically popular fashions, and pretty girls wearing thrift-store finds. Middle-aged women here often had an androgynous charm, and the elderly didn’t seem averse to walking or biking. Those were just the people Kelly could fit into specific categories. Most seemed to be doing their own thing without worrying about any specific sense of style.

  Closer to Berlin’s center, the scenery became much more polished. Most cities put on a pretty face for tourists, which is exactly what he and Nathaniel were. No photo shoot awaited them. That had just been a ruse. Their vacation started today in a hotel designed for extended stays. This meant a larger living space beyond the bed, and a small but fully equipped kitchen filling one wall. As luxurious as this no doubt was for the region, Kelly found it—like most accommodations in Europe— somewhat cramped. Not that he minded Nathaniel and him being on top of each other. Or rather, Nathaniel being on top of him. Maybe a quick shower and then...

  He glanced over at Nathaniel, who was seated on the small couch and staring at the television. Like everywhere they stayed, he would soon complain about the screen being too small, or the built-in sound system being inadequate, or worst of all, the television not being properly set up for high definition. Currently the screen was covered in multicolored text, like something from a primitive computer system.

  “Weird,” Kelly said. “What is that?”

  “No idea. I must have hit the wrong button.” Nathaniel stared a moment longer and then grunted. “That’s the date in the corner, right?” Kelly peered at the numbers. “Yes.”

  Nathaniel sighed. “I’m always doing this.”

  “Time change?” Kelly asked.

  “Yup. We left on a Monday, we arrived on a Tuesday.”

  “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  Nathaniel looked over at him. “Your first appointment is in thirty minutes.”

  “I don’t even have time to shower?”

  “Nope.”

  Kelly groaned. “Okay. Gross, but okay. I doubt much will happen today besides them taking a cast of my stump. Should be easy, right?” “Of course. I don’t suppose you speak German?”

  “Does anyone?”

  Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing the locals do.”

  Kelly shrugged. “So all we have to do is show up smelly and tired at one of the most technologically advanced corporations in the world and grunt in primitive English while gesturing at my leg. Or where a leg should be.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  Kelly flopped facedown into bed. “In that case, I’m not going.”

  “You are,” Nathaniel insisted.

  Kelly closed his eyes. “Reschedule or something.”

  “You’re going.”

  Kelly ignored this, smirking into his pillow. He felt the mattress shift before an arm wrapped around his waist. Cuddle time? But no, Nathaniel hoisted him up, carried him to the hallway, and lowered him to the carpet. A moment later his crutches clattered to the floor next to him. Then the room door swung shut.

  “Twenty-five minutes and counting,” Nathaniel said. “Don’t make me drag your ass down the sidewalk. You saw how much snow was out there. More like slush really, and no, we aren’t taking a taxi, so hurry up.”

  Kelly sighed and rolled over onto his back. “You’re so good to me,” he said, staring at the ceiling. When he heard the elevator ding from farther down the hall, he decided he’d better follow. Especially since he had left his hotel key on the coffee table. It was either sleep in the hallway, or follow a handsome man out into the cold Berlin weather.

  The next morning, for the second day in a row, they stood outside the Science Center Berlin. Kelly saluted to shade his eyes from the morning sun, considering the Ottobock-owned building with a clearer head. International flights always made him feel a little delirious, due to him rarely managing more than brief unsettled naps. He never handled sleep deprivation well, and so his first impression of the building had surely been skewed. Especially since he recalled a building transported from the future—a tall rectangle constructed from thick white ribbons and dark waves of windows.

  That impression didn’t make much sense, but standing here now, after a full-night’s sleep and with a hotel breakfast in his belly, he saw his memory was absolutely correct. If the architecture was meant to convey a state-of-the-art facility, then it s
ucceeded in excess.

  “We’re half an hour early,” Nathaniel said.

  “Good,” Kelly replied. “I want to check out the exhibition.”

  He led the way inside, feeling again as if he’d stepped onto the bridge of the starship Enterprise. Polished white surfaces, round curves instead of sharp corners, and display panels everywhere they looked. An older man sat at a reception desk to the right, his dark suit and wrinkled face a strong contrast to the polished perfection surrounding him. After a brief conversation, they were allowed to enter the exhibition area. Much of it consisted of flashy interactive displays designed to get visitors involved. Nathaniel was drawn in by these, placing his arm on a flat surface that then projected an image of bones and muscles onto it.

  Kelly barely paid attention, moving instead to the exhibitions that utilized actual prosthetic limbs. The arms and hands were fascinating enough, but when he stood in front of a cabinet with a real Genium knee and leg, he felt like a kid with his nose pressed against a toy store window.

  “One of those is waiting for you upstairs,” Nathaniel said, coming up behind him. “It’s almost time. Let’s go.”

  Kelly followed him to the elevator, eyeing the stairs longingly. He could take them, but it would slow them down, and right now he felt like rushing. The Germans didn’t waste any time either. He couldn’t believe that the custom-fitted socket had been prepared overnight instead of requiring the weeks of waiting he’d been through back home. Almost two years ago, he realized.

  “Nervous?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Yes,” Kelly said.

  That didn’t begin to express it. They reported to the Competence Center—as it was called—Kelly fighting against rising hope, not wanting to be hurt when his unrealistic dreams didn’t come true. The Competence Center was just as modern as the downstairs areas, but practical rather than flashy. Here they were shown to a room with balancing bars, small sets of steps for training, and other obstacles that normally wouldn’t challenge anyone older than a toddler.

  “You’ve got your angry face on,” Nathaniel pointed out.

  “Sorry,” Kelly said as he took a seat at the end of the parallel bars. “That happens when I get anxious. Or when I get angry, obviously.”

  Nathaniel smirked. “Or in bed, just when you’re about to—”

  “Guten Morgen, Herr Phillips! Herr Courtney!” The woman who entered the room, Inga, was barely older than Kelly. Her hair was medium length, and she didn’t bother with makeup, possessing a natural beauty that Kelly found appealing. He was amused as she formally shook hands with both of them, but he became a lot more serious when he saw the case she was carrying.

  “Is that my leg?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Inga replied. She, like all the other Germans they’d met so far, had a strong grasp of the English language. Her phrasing was a little awkward at times, but devoid of the stereotypical accent movie villains were often burdened with. “Are you ready to try it on?”

  “Hell yes!” Kelly said.

  Inga smiled while setting the case on a low side table. Then she sat on a short rolling stool in front of him. “We’ll start with the socket,” she said. “And then, icks tsfy”

  He glanced over at Nathaniel, who shrugged. Whatever icks tsfy meant, Inga had said it quite a bit yesterday too. He kept trying to figure it out in context, but so far the meaning eluded him.

  As Inga fit the socket over his stump, he had flashbacks to the little clinic in Austin. William had stood there with an encouraging smile on his face. Nathaniel was almost in the corresponding spot, standing off to the side with his arms crossed. His expression implied he was ready to break something if this didn’t work out. That made Kelly chuckle, easing his nerves somewhat.

  “How does that feel?” Inga asked, tugging on the socket.

  “Good,” Kelly said, shifting his weight. “Actually, this is great!” Unlike the socket he already owned, this one didn’t ride up on his ass.

  The material felt softer and more comfortable too. That might change once part of his weight was resting on it, but so far... “It fits like a glove!”

  Inga looked puzzled a moment, then smiled. “Ah! Handshuh.”

  “Hand shoe?” Kelly repeated. “Is that what Germans call gloves? Shoes for the hand?”

  “Yes,” Inga said, returning his smile. “It makes sense!”

  “I guess it does,” Kelly admitted. “So what do you call pants? Leg shoes?”

  “Leeder-hosen,” Nathanial said. “Even I know that one.”

  Inga looked amused. “Lederhosen,” she corrected, replacing that long “e” sound with a short one. “When you say Liederhosen, it sounds like musical trousers. Normal pants are just called Hosen.”

  Kelly shook his head. “Maybe we should stick to English.”

  “I agree,” Inga said with some degree of pride.

  “Why is this one so short?” Kelly asked, looking down at the socket. It only covered his stump, leaving most of his upper leg free. “The socket I had before always rode up on my junk.”

  “Junk?” Inga asked.

  “Uh, that’s difficult to translate,” Kelly said quickly. “I mean it went all the way up to here.”

  Inga watched him gesture at his hip and looked surprised. “You didn’t have a sub-ischal socket?” When he looked clueless, she added, “You have enough leg left that I don’t believe you need so much support. Would you like to see if I’m right?”

  Kelly nodded. The socket came off again, and he watched in fascination as she connected the leg to it. The prosthesis was a thing of beauty, deceptively simple in appearance, gunmetal gray and sculpted to resemble a natural calf muscle. All that technology packed into one efficient package. It truly was a marvel, and if the promises were accurate, soon it would allow him to do everything he could before. Well, besides swimming, showering, and the one activity he missed most.

  “Ready to stand?” Inga said.

  “Okay.”

  He grabbed hold of the balancing bars, but barely needed them as he stood. Inga encouraged him to take half a step forward. Then back again. She was blocking his way, one hand held out as she coached him on how to bend the Genium knee. This practice session dragged on, Kelly tempted to politely shove Inga and her rolling stool away so he could try walking for real.

  “Stay patient,” Nathaniel said, reading his expression.

  “Yes,” Inga said. “You must be patient. But I think you are ready.” She rolled backward to the end of the bars. Finally, path clear, Kelly took one step forward, then another. His concentration was focused downward at first, his hands hovering just above the bars, touching them occasionally. By the time he reached the end, he turned around without thinking about it. Inga called out, telling him how to turn correctly, but the technology was so damn good that he managed just fine. He looked up as he walked to the other end, catching sight of Nathaniel. His jaw was clenching, his face increasingly red, and he was breathing through his nose. The big lug was on the verge of crying!

  Kelly smiled at him, too happy for tears at the moment. He reached the end and turned again. Inga stood as he got near, holding out her hands but stepping away from the bars. “Would you like to try without support?”

  Kelly was barely touching the bars anyway. Without hesitation, he walked to the end of them. And beyond. Without crutches, without a cane or any other kind of aid, he was walking. Inga stood and stayed in front of him, walking backward in case he needed assistance, but he was fine. So much so that Inga’s back bumped against the wall.

  “Very good!” she said with a laugh. “You’re a quick learner.”

  “By the end of the day, I’ll be running laps,” Kelly joked.

  “Jogging?” Inga asked, looking surprised. Then she saw his smile and relaxed again. “Not today. Maybe in a week, you can try.”

  His brow furrowed. “Not on this leg. The Genium doesn’t support running.”

  “Icks tsfy,” Inga responded.

  “I don’t
know what that means.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. The leg you have, it’s a... uh... X2.”

  “I still don’t know what that means,” Kelly said.

  “The X2 leg is designed in cooperation with the United States military.” Inga guided him back toward the bars. “Right now it is for soldiers, but in the future, there will be a civilian release too.”

  “But what you’re saying,” Kelly said, “is that I can run on this leg. The one I’ve got on right now.”

  Inga nodded. “Yes. Of course. Just not now.”

  “Not now because it hasn’t been developed fully, or—”

  “You must learn to walk,” Inga stressed. “You must train. Once you have, you can run with the leg you are now wearing.”

  Kelly glanced at Nathaniel, who nodded in confirmation while still trying to clamp down on his emotions. Kelly didn’t hold back. For the first time in a very long while, both his hands were free to wipe away joyful tears as they spilled from his eyes.

  “I need to sit down,” Kelly said.

  Nathaniel glanced over at him with something nearing concern. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, just normal tired.”

  The day had been spent walking. Kelly couldn’t get enough of it. They strolled the artsy shops of Kreuzberg and walked the length of the Berlin Wall—or at least what remained for tourists to gawk at. For lunch they ate a kebab from a fast-food truck that didn’t offer seating. Then they took the S-Bahn through the middle of the city, stopping at random stations to see what they would discover. Most recently they had walked down a busy shopping street, the sidewalks so packed that they felt shoved along by the crowds. Kelly almost missed the excessive courtesy his crutches often earned him. But not really. Being on his feet all day had been wonderful, and now he wanted nothing more than to sit.

  “Let’s grab a beer,” Nathaniel said, pausing in front of a restaurant door and triggering irritated grunts from the pedestrians around them.

  “Sounds good,” Kelly said, pushing open the door, “but let me order, okay?”

  “Feeling brave?” Nathaniel asked.