Read Online 90_Minutes_to_Live by JournalStone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JournalStone
Ads: Link
overheat he babied her the rest of the way. As he approached Cecilia's house steam sprayed up from under the hood. He stopped, turned off the engine and got out.
It was a struggle to open the hood and he cursed himself for the decrepit old cripple he was. When he finally pushed it up, a cloud of steam billowed out, scalding his face and forcing him back. He cursed some more until he tired of it and started walking. Fortunately his place was just up the road a bit from Cecilia's. He saw her as he rounded the corner and tried to call out. But when he opened his mouth nothing but a gurgle came out. He became dizzy, then uncomfortably warm. His optic array began to malfunction; everything grew blurry.
Panic gripped him. A chill raced through his body. Was this it? Was it finally going to end? Conflicting emotions cascaded and collided. Fright—dread of the unknown—regret—acceptance…relief. He'd wished for it more times than he could count. Now that it seemed near, he both feared and welcomed it.
He couldn’t breathe. His chest was on fire. He felt himself falling and heard Cecilia scream.
"Benjamin!"
* * *
He opened his eyes. He didn’t know where he was but he knew he was alive. He knew because he could feel his body—his old, worn out body. Anger surged through him. He'd been so close, so ready. Why wasn't he dead? Why wouldn't they let him die?
“Why did you do this to me?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Did you say something Mr. Glucorde?”
He turned his head and found himself staring up at his doctor—Dr. Hooten, a woman with the bedside manner of a servodroid.
"How are you feeling Mr. Glucorde?" she asked without taking her eyes off the various monitors she surveyed. "Can you hear me all right?”
"Why does everyone want to know if I can hear them? Of course I hear you. You don't have to yell.”
"I'm not yelling Mr. Glucorde, but sometimes when the body shuts down like that, it can affect certain implants."
"Shuts down?"
"Yes," she said, turning to look at him for the first time. "That's what happened. One of your artificial kidneys malfunctioned and when your nano sensors discovered they couldn't correct the problem, they shut everything down. The trouble is, some of your artificial organs are so old their technology doesn’t interface properly with the nanites that regulate your system. It's like sticking a self-heat packet into an old microwave. They both have the same function but together they're counterproductive."
"What if I'd been driving? Those damned nano bugs could've got me killed."
A nurse walked in, smiled her nurse-smile at him and handed the doctor a pad.
"Those bugs , as you say, saved your life Mr. Glucorde," the doctor said as she read the pad. "Besides, you shouldn't be flying. Your medical-"
"I said driving, not flying! Are you deaf?"
"You shouldn't be driving either Mr. Glucorde." The doctor stood. "Now we've given you a new kidney, one which will exchange information if you will, with the dominant nanites. As for your remaining, outdated organs, I hesitate to-"
"So when can I go home?"
"Why, you can go home right now Mr. Glucorde. Your hearing and vision seem fine, but if you experience any problems with those implants have someone bring you back in. Just promise me, no jitterbugging for a week."
"You're a funny lady, Doc," he said as she walked out. "Except the jitterbug was already extinct when I was born."
* * *
He detested flying—especially the takeoffs and landings—but as the Medvan descended he caught a glimpse of her. The sight relaxed him. She was parked out front, looking as resplendent as the day he bought her. Now, when exactly was that? He couldn't remember what year it had been, though somehow he could still picture the place. Too bad they didn't have an implant to boost his memory.
He ignored the medtech's dry insistence that they wheel him up to his front door like a sack of potatoes. Instead, he made
It was a struggle to open the hood and he cursed himself for the decrepit old cripple he was. When he finally pushed it up, a cloud of steam billowed out, scalding his face and forcing him back. He cursed some more until he tired of it and started walking. Fortunately his place was just up the road a bit from Cecilia's. He saw her as he rounded the corner and tried to call out. But when he opened his mouth nothing but a gurgle came out. He became dizzy, then uncomfortably warm. His optic array began to malfunction; everything grew blurry.
Panic gripped him. A chill raced through his body. Was this it? Was it finally going to end? Conflicting emotions cascaded and collided. Fright—dread of the unknown—regret—acceptance…relief. He'd wished for it more times than he could count. Now that it seemed near, he both feared and welcomed it.
He couldn’t breathe. His chest was on fire. He felt himself falling and heard Cecilia scream.
"Benjamin!"
* * *
He opened his eyes. He didn’t know where he was but he knew he was alive. He knew because he could feel his body—his old, worn out body. Anger surged through him. He'd been so close, so ready. Why wasn't he dead? Why wouldn't they let him die?
“Why did you do this to me?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Did you say something Mr. Glucorde?”
He turned his head and found himself staring up at his doctor—Dr. Hooten, a woman with the bedside manner of a servodroid.
"How are you feeling Mr. Glucorde?" she asked without taking her eyes off the various monitors she surveyed. "Can you hear me all right?”
"Why does everyone want to know if I can hear them? Of course I hear you. You don't have to yell.”
"I'm not yelling Mr. Glucorde, but sometimes when the body shuts down like that, it can affect certain implants."
"Shuts down?"
"Yes," she said, turning to look at him for the first time. "That's what happened. One of your artificial kidneys malfunctioned and when your nano sensors discovered they couldn't correct the problem, they shut everything down. The trouble is, some of your artificial organs are so old their technology doesn’t interface properly with the nanites that regulate your system. It's like sticking a self-heat packet into an old microwave. They both have the same function but together they're counterproductive."
"What if I'd been driving? Those damned nano bugs could've got me killed."
A nurse walked in, smiled her nurse-smile at him and handed the doctor a pad.
"Those bugs , as you say, saved your life Mr. Glucorde," the doctor said as she read the pad. "Besides, you shouldn't be flying. Your medical-"
"I said driving, not flying! Are you deaf?"
"You shouldn't be driving either Mr. Glucorde." The doctor stood. "Now we've given you a new kidney, one which will exchange information if you will, with the dominant nanites. As for your remaining, outdated organs, I hesitate to-"
"So when can I go home?"
"Why, you can go home right now Mr. Glucorde. Your hearing and vision seem fine, but if you experience any problems with those implants have someone bring you back in. Just promise me, no jitterbugging for a week."
"You're a funny lady, Doc," he said as she walked out. "Except the jitterbug was already extinct when I was born."
* * *
He detested flying—especially the takeoffs and landings—but as the Medvan descended he caught a glimpse of her. The sight relaxed him. She was parked out front, looking as resplendent as the day he bought her. Now, when exactly was that? He couldn't remember what year it had been, though somehow he could still picture the place. Too bad they didn't have an implant to boost his memory.
He ignored the medtech's dry insistence that they wheel him up to his front door like a sack of potatoes. Instead, he made
Similar Books
