by Cliff Hedley
The lights went off and as Wilson returned Hernandez, who had been collecting everyone’s statements and details, addressed everyone in the diner. “Thank you, folks, for your cooperation. We’ll take care of everything from here, though I may need to get in touch when it’s time to prosecute this guy. I’ll leave my details with you. There’s a number for the incident report there as well” he said, handing Dennis a piece of paper. “And Master Sergeant, thank you for stepping in.” He beamed at Chase and headed for the door, with Wilson following. The little bell on the door clanged as it closed behind them.
The old man in the booth started clapping. His wife joined him moments later, along with Carlton and Dennis. Chase returned an embarrassed and awkward smile. Once the congratulations were over, Chase sighed, and leaned back in his chair opposite Carlton. He looked up and realised that Carlton was staring at him.
“To hell with the protocols, Chase. I think I’m fairly confident in saying at this point that you’re my favourite guinea pig.”
“Thanks,” Chase said slowly. “But shouldn’t you find the best candidate to move ahead with — do all the tests you need and whatnot?”
“The purpose,” Carlton emphasised, “is to find the right candidate. That means the most deserving and the most willing. Someone who will push the technology as far as it can go. It’s not just about degrees of variance in the quality of your nerve endings.”
He let that sink in for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that the Army will be happy to fund a programme with a poster-boy who has plenty of fight.”
Chase laughed. “So you’re being pragmatic as well.”
“You bet your ass. There’s a lot of moving parts to make this all come together but I think we have a shot.”
“Well, all right then.”
Dennis came over with a second round of steaming long blacks. “You boys don’t pay for these any more. Any time you want, on the house.” He looked down at Chase’s mangled prosthetic and moved a fresh straw into place so he could sip the coffee.
“I was just doing what I could, Dennis. There’s no need for that, really.”
“It wasn’t an offer, Chase. I insist and I won’t take no for an answer.”
Dennis gave him a pat on the shoulder and returned to the counter. Chase sank back in his seat and took a long sip. It was fantastic. It must be true that free stuff always tastes better.
***
“Heard you got in a dust-up yesterday.”
Frank had a talent for understatement. He flashed his son a sly grin as he arrived for a visit, as usual pushing his way in without knocking.
“It was more of a minor altercation. Over very quickly.”
“I’ll bet it was, Renshi. You leave him in one piece?” There was a hint of pride in his father’s voice.
“Not exactly. He won’t be using his right knee for a while. Might need his jaw wired.”
“Serves the son of a bitch right.”
Frank looked over his son’s arms. This time there was no hesitation or sadness. He was just checking for damage.
“I’m fine,” Chase assured him.
“Good. Do you think I can tag along today?”
“I’m sure it can be arranged. Just don’t touch anything.”
An hour or so later Chase was back at his usual spot in Carlton’s lab. Harris was bustling her way around the room, prepping machines and making sure Chase was comfortable. His father sat quietly in a corner, taking everything in. Harris had no prosthetic to remove this time. Chase’s damaged limb had gone in the trash the previous day when he and Carlton had got back to the hospital from the diner. Carlton had insisted that he shouldn’t worry about it and that he wouldn’t need one for much longer, so Chase was intrigued as to what the doctor had in store for the day.
“You managed not to do any damage to your arms yesterday,” Carlton grinned as he looked Chase over. “Honestly, I’m amazed.”
“It’s all about striking with the right bits. I only hit him with the bony parts of my elbows and the prosthetic. Uh, sorry about that again,” he added sheepishly.
“I told you not to worry about that. I have something new to try today. I got the idea from a technology conference I went to recently, so I thought I’d try it out on you. Jane, would you please bring over the headset? You might like this, Colonel,” he added for Frank’s benefit.
Harris came over and stood next to Chase. “Let me just fit this to you.” She adjusted a couple of straps to fit his head and soon he was wearing a set of goggles with a pair of small screens inside them.
“What are those?” Frank asked.
“Virtual-reality goggles,” Carlton responded. Chase couldn’t see him but there was clearly a degree of nerdish glee in his voice. “We’re going to add on to what we tried yesterday. You had a two-dimensional screen to look at then. This time, I’m going to get you to try and pick up and manipulate objects in 3D. That will prove that the software and interface is all going to work for you. Normally 3D users would have a set of gloves that take commands from their hands, so we will be substituting those for a pair of the weave receptors today.”
Happy with the fit, Harris took the goggles off momentarily while Carlton fitted a stocking to each of Chase’s arms. He plugged them into a pair of wiring harnesses, and Harris lowered the goggles back onto Chase’s head.
“Can you see the screens OK?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s good.”
“All right, here we go,” Carlton muttered. The excitement in his voice suggested that he was like a kid in a candy store with the technology but nervous at the same time about whether his idea would work.
An image was on screen of a pair of hands, which Chase could clearly see in front of him. “First form a fist, then we’ll move on to individual fingers — like before.”
This time Chase was able to perform the actions for both sides at once. As usual, the corresponding movements of his virtual hands slowly started to respond to the commands he was giving them. After a number of movements, they were working perfectly.
“Now I’m going to add some objects for you. I just want you to pick them up.”
Chase heard Carlton hit some keys and a ball appeared in front of him. He reached out and with the virtual right hand, picked it up.
“Huh!” he exclaimed. He turned the hand over and the ball sat in his virtual palm. He threw it up and caught it with his left. “Wow. It’s like I actually have working hands.”
“Yes!” The relief in Carlton’s voice was obvious. His idea was working better than expected. He gave Chase some new objects; a door to open, a pen to write with, a knife and fork to cut a flat-ish blob on a plate. He needed a couple of attempts in some cases but he was starting to get the hang of it.
“OK, I think that proves the theory. How about we take a mould of your arms now and see if we can’t get the real thing up and working for you over the next few days?”
“That would be very cool, Doc.”
Harris lifted the headset off Chase and he blinked to adjust his eyes. She went away to the far side of the room and started mixing up a foam concoction within a wide tub, in order to take an impression. Same pink goo as the last time.
Chase looked at Carlton. “Seriously now, you actually think this can work?”
“You know what? I know it can work. There might be a few bugs to iron out but the test receptor weave is working nicely. The permanent fitting we give you should be even better. So bear with me guinea pig and I’ll have you playing piano before you know it.”
“Oh, I have something else in mind,” Chase responded. He could visualise the bokken, which was leaning in the corner of his room. His father could clearly read his mind: he made a two-handed chopping motion in the air.
Chapter 9
It was a nice day for a walk so Chase headed over to the diner to see Dennis and g
et a free coffee. As he sat enjoying his long black, he planned how to occupy himself for the next few days. He was excited but at the same time trying not to get his hopes up too much. He decided that some more time in the hospital gym was the best way to spend the afternoon, so before long he was back there doing his arm exercises, followed by smashing the bag. Mainly he stuck with practising his kicks but he now felt confident enough to throw in the odd elbow. Any swelling would prevent him from fitting into his newly moulded arms, so he dialled down the elbow impacts. Lastly, he made his way on to the hardwood floor and practised all of his katas. He took his time with each one, doing his best to incorporate the arm movements that went along with them.
He realised as he was working through the exercises, that his arms had been more effective the previous day than he had given them credit for. While he had to adjust to fighting without hands and make different moves to the way he normally would have handled his attacker, he could still fight. He still had six of his “eight weapons”, as his martial arts club referred to them, which wasn’t terrible. Soon, with a little luck, he would have all eight again.
He finished up his routine and stopped to chat to Harris, who had been watching him from the sidelines.
“It looks like you’re doing well,” she said. “Your arms are healing, so I’m not mad at you for using your elbows on the bag today.”
“Oh, you saw that?” Chase asked sheepishly.
He did some work for another half hour with her, working with rubber resistance bands which he hooked around his forearms. He could get more gradual but increasing pressure against his arms this way and felt he’d had a good new workout. His arms burned a little with lactic acid and his biceps felt more pumped than they had been in a long time. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed spending time in the gym and pushing himself.
Eventually Harris told him that he had done enough for the day, so he headed back to his room. Another nurse came and helped him with a shower and something to eat. Then he lay back on his bed with the TV on, for once not bothered by the endless re-runs because he was getting closer to having working arms. He felt a sense of hope and euphoria, spending the rest of the evening happily watching the crap on TV.
***
Routine had returned to Chase’s life and three days later he was still coping with the monotony of it fairly well. He had kept up with his gym visits, sometimes with his father when he visited and the various physios on staff assisting on the workouts. He continued to practice his kata and bag work by himself.
On the morning of Chase’s fourth day back in monotony, Harris knocked on his door and breezed her way in. She had her usual brisk manner about her but also a lightness, Chase thought.
“Hello, Nurse Harris.”
“Hello, Chase. It’s about time you started calling me Jane. I’d prefer it and I suspect we’ll be spending a lot more time in Rob’s lab together.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you have something for me to try?”
“You better come and see for yourself.”
Chase went from his reclined position on the bed, to upright and on his feet in record time. He was already in his usual sweat pants and T-shirt, which another nurse had helped him with earlier when she delivered his breakfast. He could lean on his elbows a lot more comfortably now. He was able to push off with them, instead of having to rock himself upright. He was definitely starting to feel better.
“Guinea pig! How are you?” Carlton was waiting at his desk and flashing a wide smile. His eyes sparkled and Chase knew he had made some real progress.
“I’m good, thanks . . . Chase trailed off as he noticed a pair of metallic arms resting on a table beside his usual perch on the bed.
They were much more impressive than he had imagined. He had seen the old-generation pincers with skinny pole-like arms and a rounded, fully rotating wrist on other amputees. What lay on the table were arms with four fingers and an opposable thumb, just like a human hand.
“Wow.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Carlton paused, teasing Chase. “Would you like to give them a try?”
“Yes, please.”
“Take a seat.”
Carlton dropped the act and swung into action as Jane set up the machines around them. The pair moved in a whirlwind of activity, which Chase watched intently until Jane came over to put the arms on.
“OK, pay attention,” she ordered. She lifted up the right arm first, holding it for Chase to slip into. He threaded his arm through two loops, past a hinge and into the moulded section which would house his own forearm. It felt snug but comfortable. When his forearm had pushed in as far as it would go, the loops at the top automatically fastened. They pulled firmly but not uncomfortably tight, below and above his bicep. The weight of the arm wasn’t as heavy as he had expected. It felt more or less like the weight of a normal arm, maybe slightly heavier.
“It’s aircraft-grade titanium,” Carlton explained, as if reading Chase’s thoughts.
The hinge perfectly matched his elbow. He flexed and extended his arm a couple of times. “You measured this part up to fit me exactly as well?”
“Yes.” Carlton beamed. “The hands can be adapted to anybody but the harness has to be custom-fitted. Try the other one by yourself and you’ll get an idea of why.”
The left arm was lying palm-down, so Chase threaded his left arm through into place. It didn’t quite reach the end but Carlton and Jane just watched him. He figured they wanted him to do it himself, so he raised the arm up, letting gravity take it most of the way. Then he pushed it against his right arm so that the new prosthetic fitted securely. Again, the loops fastened automatically once his arm was pushing against the end of the mould inside. He tested the left arm, still amazed at how light it felt. He could lift and bend it comfortably; like the right, the loops held it perfectly in place without slipping. He still couldn’t move the fingers, though.
“We’ve designed them so you can take them on and off by yourself,” Carlton said, breaking the silence.
Chase realised he had been completely mesmerised by them. “Sorry. How do they work?”
“First, we hook you up. Jane?”
She moved in beside Chase and connected a wiring harness to the inside of each arm, via a little plug.
“We need to program them,” Carlton said, “just like with the test weave. Once that’s done though, there’s an on-board computer in each arm which runs the interface, converting the impulses to electrical signals for the servos to operate the arm and fingers. Just like with the 3D goggles — start with the basics, forming a fist, then uncurl one finger at a time.”
Chase nearly jumped off the edge of the bed when the right hand formed a loose fist. It made a little mechanical whir as the fingers closed.
“Holy crap!”
“Keep trying.”
Chase repeated the movement, gradually improving it until he could open and close his hand with ease. He did the same with the other side. Then he moved to individual finger movements. Eventually he was able to move each finger. Finally, Carlton held up a small red ball. It was a soft foam sphere, about the size of a golf ball: it reminded Chase of a clown’s nose.
“Remember the ball exercise?”
“Yep.”
“Pick it up.”
Chase took a breath and reached for the ball. He fumbled it for a minute then tried again, gently squeezing his fingers together until he was sure he had a firm enough grip. Then he lifted it out of Carlton’s outstretched hand.
“I did it!” He moved it across to his left hand and closed his fingers on it. Then he tried to throw it up so his right could catch it but it bounced clumsily off his right hand and landed on the floor.
“Damn.”
“Don’t worry. That’s a pretty good start,” Carlton encouraged him.
Chase tried a few more time
s and after some improved attempts, was able to throw it up and catch it. To his embarrassment he was laughing like a little kid.
“That’s excellent, Chase.” Carlton was all smiles. “The interface is working better than I hoped. Next we need to add a few things to the programming before we can unplug you.”
“Like what?”
“To start with, if you were to run out of battery power on either arm, what would you like the hand to do? Based on what I saw from you in the diner, my suggestion was going to be that the hand automatically curls into a fist when it’s about to run out of juice.”
Chase thought about that for a moment. “Seems like a reasonable idea. How will I know when I’m running low on power?”
“Roll the arm over and you’ll see a little light strip inside the elbows.”
There was a row of six tiny LED lights acting as a battery indicator, softly glowing on the inside of each arm near the elbow joint: two green, two orange and two red.
“Smart. How long do the batteries last?”
Carlton hesitated. “We don’t entirely know yet. It’s a new battery type, very efficient, but it will basically depend on how active you are. It might run out in a couple of hours. If you aren’t using them much, maybe they’ll last all day.”
“How do I charge them?”
“Jane will set up some proximity chargers in your room. You just have to put the arms on top of them. We can even put them on the armrests of a chair, so you can watch TV while you charge. It will take about an hour, at the quickest.”
“So I just need to go and try them out, and keep plugging in with you every day?”
“Well, that’s basically it, yes. I want you to give me feedback as well around how we can improve them.”
“This may be a dumb question but can I get them wet? I can’t tell if there’s a rubberised seal protecting the electronics.”
“No such thing as a dumb question, Chase. And the short answer is, they are moisture-proof but please don’t swim or shower in them. You’ll no doubt get a little sweaty in the gym but other than that, try to keep them dry. I’m working on a rubberised coating for them and once that’s ready, you could shower with them or do whatever you want. That’s a little way off though. I understand that’s still a bit of a hassle for you.”