red scarf. Damn Jane, how much do you pay for silk imported from the home galaxy in the middle of a war zone? Never mind, I don’t think I want to know.
I was strong too. Well, my techno arm was strong; my real arm, not so much. Everyone told me that most of the success of the medical work was because I was fit and in good shape in the first place. I was going to have to work on my real arm to build it up more, but there was no way it would ever be as strong as my techno arm. After Dr. Philippe was satisfied that all my arm connections were right, he wanted to test my arm strength. He told me to curl my hand to my shoulder. He then tried to pull my arm open to straighten it out. He couldn’t do it. He pulled as hard as he could but couldn’t budge me. What surprised me was that it didn’t take any effort on my part. I was only holding my arm in place. Dr. Philippe even asked Mike to help him. The two of them working together couldn’t budge my arm. It hit me that I didn’t know how strong I might be. But then Dr. Philippe looked at me, and I stared back. I could tell that it was just starting to dawn on him what he had done…what he had made me into.
Back on the physical therapy stuff, Dr. Davis seemed pretty satisfied with my seams. Go ahead and ask me, “What are seams?” That’s where my fake parts meet my natural flesh parts. They did all kinds of scans to make sure the internal stuff was linked right—nerves and tendons connected to whatever else I was now made of. That all seemed to check out. But I could see that when they used the words “alternative technology,” it wasn’t something that humans invented. My fake arm and leg healed…merged…melded…blended with my real flesh. Huh? Yeah! It was hard to tell where my skin stopped and my techy arm and leg started. It was very weird. Some of my parts were adjusting to my own DNA, but the parts that were the alternative technology stuff was changing me. I don’t like that and am not sure what I’ll end up as.
Now don’t get me wrong. Even if you think I have skin, my bikini days are probably over. Unless I’m doing a centerfold spread in Popular Robotics. While my arm and leg coverings are skin and such, it is pretty obvious that I have a hunky, clunky arm and leg. It is not that noticeable with a long-sleeve shirt and pants, but it is obvious that my hand is not real. I think I’m going to wear gloves most of the time.
But then there is my eye. They did do a good job reconstructing my head, but there are four small sensor lenses above my right eye. Two are right above my eye and two lead off and up a bit into my temple. They look like diamond studs around my eye, and they might look cool. Maybe I stick four studs around my other eye to balance it out. Sounds interesting.
But I won’t use the computer display crap. I had it on when Mike was testing it and when he showed me how it worked. The little stud sensor closest to my temple is my on-and-off switch. He showed me my little radar screen that told me who was around me and my GPS stuff. I don’t care about my texting and communicator stuff and the selection screens and menus. I don’t want it and will not turn it on.
After doing tests one day, Jane was pleased that everything was going so well, but she had a worried look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong, she answered, “Unser Leben hat sich verändert.”
I asked what that meant, and she answered, “Verändert means ‘changed’ in German.” Then she went on to explain that her family was German. “We lived in a German community. I said to you, ‘Our lives have changed.’ Yours, of course, but I think mine has too.”
*****
After that, Jane was the one who tested my telekinetic ability. One day, I was standing at the computer table talking to Mike. I was on the opposite side of the room from the door. Jane came in, and without pausing, she yelled “Catch!” At the same time, she threw a ball at me. I glanced over to Jane and saw the ball coming, but then what happened was incredible. The ball stopped in midair about a foot in front of my face. I was staring at the ball. It was small, about the size of a tennis ball. I could see the rough-textured surface, and I could read the manufacturer’s printing on the ball. But I was not holding the ball. It was just floating in space in front of me. I could even smell the rubber in the ball. But it wasn’t floating, and there was no movement at all. It was locked in my gaze.
I blurted out, “Well, shit, Dayana!” Surprising myself, I immediately went silent but thought, What did I just say? Who’s Dayana?
I don’t know how long this moment lasted, but Mike saw this whole scene and exclaimed, “Holy cow!” That’s all it took to distract me. I glanced at him, and when I did, the ball fell to the floor.
Jane walked up, picked up the ball, and smiled. “Not bad for your first catch. Good reflexes.” She grabbed my shoulders to give me a friendly hug, leaned close to my ear, and quietly said, “Dayana? I wonder who Dayana is.”
I looked at Jane, but Mike yelled what I was thinking, “Not bad? That was freaking incredible!”
Over the next few weeks, Jane had a lot of other ways to test me. She had flash cards with different symbols on them—stars, circles, squares. She would hold one up with its back to me. I would tell her what it was. I don’t know what I was doing, except that I could see the picture in my mind. Sometimes, I thought that the image came from Jane’s mind. As if I was seeing what she was seeing! Very weird, but I never got one wrong! The same thing happened when we started to play poker. I could tell all the cards that Jane and Mike were holding. Jane even played the shell game with me. You know, she had three shells and put a pea under one of them and then mixed up the position. Again, I never missed.
Between actual tests, Mike and I would play catch in the hallway. He would use a catcher’s glove, and I would stand with my hands in my pockets. He’d throw the ball, and like the first time with Jane, I’d stop it in air in front of my face. But then I learned how to “throw” it back. To an observer, the ball looked like it would wiz back to him. It’s hard to describe what I was doing to throw the ball back. I was not picturing myself as throwing a ball like a normal throw. It was more like a two-handed basketball pass, only with no hands. Makes no sense, right? Don’t feel bad if you don’t understand it because I don’t understand it either. I’m just doing it, and I’m not sure I know how I’m doing it, but it works.
Then Jane arranged the best test. She got a gambling wheel from a casino. You know the kind that has numbers on them, and people bet on what number the wheel will stop at. The thing was so big she left it in the hall and didn’t try to bring it in the room. Mike picked the number 8 to bet on. Jane spun the wheel and instructed me to stop the wheel on that number. I looked at her, and she said, “Go ahead. Stop the wheel on number 8.”
I stared at the wheel. It was a little difficult to find the number 8, what with all the spinning, but I found it. I stared at the number 8 but also watched the little arrow that ticked as the numbers went by. The wheel slowed as eight was coming around. Closer, closer, and I thought, Stop. It did! The wheel stopped on the number 8!
I stood staring at the wheel while Mike laughed. “We will make so much money in a casino!” Then I looked at Jane. She was smiling but had a small tear forming on one eye. I stepped to her and hugged her, and she held me back.
I thought to myself, This is frightening. It scares me.
I didn’t say it out loud or even in a soft whisper. I thought about it, but Jane spoke quietly in my ear, “I know, sweetie. I know.”
I pulled away from Jane and stared at her. I was puzzled. Did Jane just read my thoughts?
“Dear sweet liebchen.” Jane smiled at me and used a German term of endearment.
She started to explain but didn’t speak. Instead, she was sending her thoughts to me, and I could understand everything she said, I mean thought, to me.
Throughout
