by Anna Lewis
Lena hoped that the procedure would offer Trevor a new chance at life, even if the reasons behind the operation were purely military ones: to use the wounded in war, rather than have to house them in a hospital, where they would be of no use to the war effort. It was her chance to prove how her work could change the battlefield forever and that she was worth recognizing in the military. The world had recognized her worth. Now she wanted the armies to reach out to her for help. There was no room for failure.
***
Eyes fluttering and heart beating slowly, Trevor Noble stirred from his anesthesia. The surgery had been a great success and Lena stood outside the door while Trevor came back to consciousness, her arms folded across her chest as she watched the naval officer wake. Gasping, he rose from the pillows and looked around in a panic, the memory of his attack seemingly fresh in his mind. But the ringing in his ears faded, and he started to recognize his surroundings.
“Where…?” he asked no one in particular. “Where am I?”
“You’re at the Base Naval Hospital of the Western Alliance,” replied Lena as she entered the room. “You’ve had quite an accident, Commander Noble.”
Trevor was panting, the images of the shooting returning to him all at once and causing a blinding headache. He raised his hands to his face. That moment had meant everything and he had failed. His wonderful brother would not rest in peace until he was able to destroy that evil general who had sent him to his death. The weight of his failure crushed his chest. Or was that the morphine?
“You should lie down, Commander. I must explain what we did during your procedure,” Lena said while shutting the door. “A couple of changes have been made to your physiology.”
“My what?” he asked, looking down at the sheets.
Lying on the pale white blanket was a cybernetic piece of metal, the elbow whirling a bit as it moved around. The dim lights decorating the forearm and hand blinked a few times and then went dim, glowing underneath the fluorescent lights of the recovery room. Lena leaned over and pushed a hidden button, and then opened a compartment to press a few keys underneath. A ball of energy formed in the palm of the cybernetic hand, whirling between the barely moving fingers and then dissipating.
“Commander Noble, welcome to the world of science,” she said proudly. “I’ve fixed you with a new cybernetic arm and leg. We’ll have you going through physical therapy within the next week.”
“Cybernetic?!” he asked, shock overwhelming his body.
The heart monitor next to the bed began to beep rapidly and Lena shushed him, warning him that raising his heart rate might cause his new additions to malfunction if he didn’t learn how to control his body.
“Malfunction? That’s heavily reassuring, doc,” he said with a snide tone.
“It’s all part of your physical therapy. We’ll get you back on the field in six weeks,” she explained, ignoring his comment.
“I’m not returning to that field, lady. Have you seen it out there?” he said while peering under the sheet. “Well, I thought I’d get a cybernetic dick, but apparently you’re fresh out.”
Lena blinked her eyes a few times in disbelief of the man sitting in front of her. She had saved his life, brought him back from the brink of death and improved his body. Who did he think he was? Chagrined by the comment, she walked to the end of the bed and checked his chart on the touch screen. The hero was still chattering away about the war zone and how close he had been to completing his mission, something she didn’t ever ask about when injured soldiers came under her care. It wasn’t her business and she didn’t like digging because many of them painted extravagant stories about their experiences that caused her nightmares. The job came with a price. She knew that was true for the both of them.
“So, when do I start therapy?” Trevor asked, fixing the sheets around him.
Lena looked over his chart again and clicked her tongue.
“Well, we need you to rest first, Commander,” she replied. “But I imagine we’ll start by the end of this week.”
“What day is it?” he asked.
“Tuesday,” she responded.
“That’s weird,” he commented.
“What?” she asked.
“It doesn’t feel like a Tuesday.”
The comment made her titter and she covered her mouth, the red lipstick staining the tips of her fingers that were worn from working on those cybernetic limbs for the past twelve hours. She could use a nap. Any time a procedure took longer than a few hours, she noticed her vision would tunnel and she would end up falling asleep on the cot in the supply closet, where a nurse would wake her after a couple of hours. This was her life. The majority of her time was spent at this hospital instead of her apartment just a few buildings down. Naval base life was morbid and strange, the sounds of air horns and ships flying overhead an almost constant drone. But in the supply closet, she would be shrouded in silence which put her mind temporarily at ease until her ears were raided with the sound of a shouting nurse.
“Are you hungry?” asked Lena. “We still have some food available from the cafeteria. It’s not warm, but it’s filling.”
“Do you have burgers?” Trevor asked.
“I’d have to check on that. I’ll be back. Rest easy, sir,” she said while heading for the door.
“Hey, doc,” he said, raising his human arm. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Dr. Clark,” she responded while pushing the door.
“No, your real name. Your first name,” he insisted.
Lena paused. It wasn’t typically a question she heard regularly as most patients were too wrapped up in their pain to mention anything about it, but Trevor seemed mostly unmoved by his own pain. It could have been the morphine speaking at that point or perhaps his status as a naval officer had made him resilient to war injuries. It probably wasn’t the first time he had been shot.
Smiling, Lena responded, “It’s Lena.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lena,” he said before she left the room.
In the hall, Lena was met by a baffled nurse who rushed her to the opposite hall where a patient was going into cardiac arrest. Her mind was still fluttering with how Trevor had addressed her differently, but she quickly pushed the thought away to focus on the task at hand. Trevor watched her through the wide window, studying her profile until she ran off with the panicking nurse in blue scrubs. He peered down at his new arm. It was strange seeing the stainless steel replacing the skin that he had always known. It was arm-shaped, at least, even if it was not arm-colored. He traced the designs in the metal, leaving finger prints along the shiny material that he tried to scrub away with the blanket that covered him. Well, that’s going to get annoying, he thought with a chuckle. I’ll have to get this thing polished once a week.
A distinct laugh came from seemingly nowhere and left him stunned; it was a sound from his past, his childhood. It was Alfonse. That laugh was from Alfonse. He swore he’s heard it. The humor that he had picked up from his older brother had stuck with him from their childhood and even now Trevor could hear him make a comment and laugh. It was what drove him to push forward and avenge his brother, to make sure that no one ever suffered at the hands of that dreadful general. One day soon, he would face that man again with renewed vigor, for his body had become a fortress overnight, a weapon which would end the life of that general as well as the suffering of his country.
Nothing could stop him now.
***
After a number of days spent restless in the hospital bed, Trevor received a visitor who entered the room in formal Navy uniform, metals glittering on his chest. It was General Sanders, leader of the company that Trevor had been a part of for the past five years. While removing his hat, he pulled up a chair and sat next to his officer, who stared at the new addition attached to Trevor’s body. He studied his own reflection in the arm and smirked, offering a light laugh.
“Well, at least you’ll never have to worry about carrying a mirror aroun
d,” said General Sanders while tracing the metal with a finger. “How are you holding up, Commander?”
Trevor sighed.
“I can’t complain, General. I signed up for this,” he said calmly.
“It’s a chore to be in battle. Don’t ever deny that, son. Even though you signed up for this, we still face our terrors on the field,” explained the general.
“I realize that, sir, but I knew what I was walking into,” responded Trevor. “It’s just like with my brother. I knew one day we would lose him. Doesn’t make it any less painful.”
The general hung his head low, recalling the day when Alfonse was lost in the field. He had watched the horror cross Trevor’s face and had grabbed his shoulder to keep him from running into the rain of cyber bullets spraying the field. Alfonse had fallen down into the trenches like many men that day and had died long before their medical team could respond. Trevor had knelt next to his fallen brother and wept heavily, the world around them in utter chaos as electric fire continued to assault their troop. It had been a tragedy. Everyone knew of Alfonse and Trevor, the brothers who fought side by side and never failed to answer the call of duty.
As General Sanders held his hat, he traced the outline of the bill and flipped it around a few times, anticipating that Trevor would continue to speak. But he didn’t. Silence fell between the two and they sat awkwardly. A nurse came in to check the machines. She pulled down a medicine bag, inspected it, and then replaced it with a fresh one, before checking Trevor’s heart rate. Cold fingers sat on his human wrist as she studied her watch and mouthed numbers. She tapped a few buttons on his electronic chart and wished him well before exiting the room.
“Are you eating well?” asked the general.
“I am, sir. They are feeding me three times a day. Sometimes the nurse brings me snacks,” replied Trevor.
The general nodded, mouthing the word, “good.”
“And you, sir?” asked the hero.
“I am fine,” said General Sanders. “You worry about yourself, son. We’ll see you again on the field.”
Trevor nodded, understanding that his service was far from over. He would have to return to the carnage of the war even though it had cost him a brother, an arm, and a leg. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his country, but he still felt a sense of betrayal when it came to his body. What was he supposed to do with these mechanical parts? Would he be stared at or accepted? How would he ever date again? Part of him felt lucky for being single seeing as many partners of soldiers tended to leave them after intense damage. It was a depressing and heavy truth of those who fought in war, and those who had dedicated lovers were considered blessed.
If only Trevor could have found someone, perhaps he would have more to live for besides revenge at this point. His brother was no more and there was no family left for him on the planet. Maybe he would move off-planet. There was a colony on Mars that was beginning to thrive that needed more workers. After the technology revolution, Earth had started branching out to different parts of the solar system as soon as scientists allowed, filling space with pollution and corporate ideas, eventually coming into contact with aliens, too. But here on Earth, they still fought the war of the ages. It was always a battle between nations wanting territory instead of trying to come together. They were too stubborn to concede. No one wanted to be the first to suggest a collective world order, and no one dared to push for it. Trevor wondered if he would ever see the day.
“Will you be doing physical therapy?” asked General Sanders, breaking Trevor of his thoughts.
“I start today, sir. It should help me manage my new parts. I admit this feels rather weird. I can tell there’s something there, but it doesn’t feel the same. It almost feels...cold,” replied Trevor. “I’m still not sure how I feel about it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be alright. You’re our best officer. We can’t afford to lose you,” said the general.
“Absolutely, sir. I look forward to being out there with you again,” he said.
A crash echoed through the sky and rattled the window, causing a few things to fall off the counter. It was likely another bomb. The hospital was just outside the warzone which meant they felt everything that was thrown out into the trenches.
“Aye, son. We’ll see you soon. Get some rest,” said General Sanders.
“Send your wife my best,” said Trevor.
Standing, the general nodded with thanks and left the officer to his own thoughts as he waited for his food. It was around lunch, though the sky outside would indicate otherwise. The wind brought with it debris and all manner of smoke from the war zone which could make it difficult to determine the time of day by just sitting outside. Many convalescents enjoyed sitting in the garden if the sun was out, but that rarely occurred due to the cloud and smoke coverage. Still, it was lovely to be outside with the bugs in the grass, and many nurses opted to have physical therapy in the garden.
As Trevor became engrossed with his memories, a nurse walked in with a plate of food for him, who introduced herself as Becky. She informed him that Dr. Clark would be in shortly for therapy and that he should eat his fill to gain his strength. Trevor stared at the tray in front of him, wondering if the meat was actual meat or a substitute protein engineered to look like meat. Uninterested, he picked at the slop and rolled his eyes, craving the juicy cheeseburgers he loved eating in his youth at his hometown diner. After imagining that the food before him was the amazing meal he’d had there, he ate it slowly and swallowed with some effort, his left arm barely substituting his usual right-handed nature.
Lena arrived as he was eating and greeted him, waiting patiently for him to finish before wheeling him over to the physical therapy room. Trevor wasn’t sure how it would feel to walk on a cybernetic leg. It was one thing to have a prosthetic, but it was an entirely different deal to be using something part mechanical. As he understood, it served additional purposes as well, that Lena outlined as she set him in front of the walking area. He looked around the empty room and then stared at the two parallel bars in front of him. This was going to be a long day.
***
The first physical therapy session was a disaster, Trevor falling over every time he attempted to put weight on his cybernetic leg. Once he was able to get his balance, walking became the next chore as he wasn’t used to applying pressure to something that weighed more than the other leg.
“Why couldn’t have you evened it out a bit?” he complained to Lena who rolled her eyes.
“It’s a work in progress. Try putting your foot forward,” she replied.
“I did. It won’t move,” he whined.
“You don’t even have to think about it. Just will your body forward,” she instructed.
As Trevor formulated another snappy response, his left foot lunged forward and took him nearly halfway across the room, knocking his body into a line of chairs. Lena couldn’t help but chuckle at the display before running over to help him up. The cybernetic arm was beeping, alerting her of a malfunction somewhere. She opened a slot and looked at the wires. From her pocket, she procured a small screwdriver that she inserted in the space.
“Well, glad I caught that,” she said while he stood from the ground.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because you could have blown us to bits,” she responded.
Eyes wide, Trevor groaned and claimed she was going to kill them both, to which she responded that they would be fine. He took a few steps forward, realized he was walking and started to jump for joy which catapulted him up into the ceiling. A chorus of giggles filled the room as Trevor jumped down, landing on both feet and then teetering over.
“It’s going to take a lot of control,” she said between panting laughter. “And I meant to warn you about the strength of them.”
“Why didn’t you?!” he asked incredulously.
“It just didn’t cross my mind until now,” she replied.
“You’ve been incredibly useful, you know,” said Trevo
r with a smirk. “I wonder how you would do on the field.”
“Probably better than you, if I had your equipment,” she snapped.
The hero gave her an inquisitive look, his eyebrow rising high over his eye.
“That’s what she said,” he commented, tumbling over into a fit of laughter as he watched the shock cross her face.
“You’re such a pain,” she said, walking across the room to fetch his chart. “But at least you’re making progress.”
“Oh, come on! You walked into that one,” said Trevor while his arm clinked against the tile. “Admit it. You thought it was hilarious.”
Lena rolled her eyes and set the chart down, walking back over to help the officer off the ground. For a moment, they stared at each other, caught up in the swirl of stars within their eyes and exploring the universe hiding within. Trevor noted that he had never noticed the pigment of blue decorating the inside of the gray circles and admired them until Lena cleared her throat.
“Commander Noble?” she spoke softly. “Are you alright?”
“Absolutely,” he replied. “Fine.”
Nodding, Lena led him back to a chair so he could rest and handed him a cup of water. Trevor reached out with his cybernetic hand and then reconsidered the decision, reaching for the cup with his left instead.
“Are my limbs affected by water?” he asked between sips.
Lena considered the question, thinking back to the initial trials and tests. The conclusion was that most cybernetic limbs were submersible and could even be used as propellers, but one of their trial cyborgs had suffered severe electrical shock due to a short circuit. Water had made it worse.
“It depends,” she replied.
“I don’t like that response,” said Trevor while staring into his cup. “I want to be able to swim again.”