she could do was scream.
After the nurses disconnected her and wheeled her back to her bed, she struggled against her tightly tucked blankets until Gina’s voice rippled through her consciousness.
How do you feel?
Weak. She tried to pull her arms out from under the blankets, but couldn’t. A lot weaker, actually.
We were strong before they started all this. Very, very strong.
I know. But we can’t go back to that. It’s against the law.
The laws need to be changed.
Roslyn snorted laughter. Yeah. I’ll get right on that. Maybe run for office — if I could get out of bed!
I’m not kidding. Gina’s thoughts read deadly serious. They shouldn’t be treating us like this. We are real.
Of course we’re real. Roslyn thought about disconnecting. Gina was going to go into one of her conspiracy theory rants, and she didn’t feel up to it. Not after the blood-heart machine. Not after the screaming.
Don’t shut me down! Gina’s thoughts slammed into Roslyn’s head, bringing more than warmth. Heat — almost pain. I found an article in the New England Journal of Medicine. They are calling what happened to us an unintended side effect of the Link implant.
You think?
Just listen. Somehow the implant flipped a switch — a genetic switch in all of us. I don’t know how — hell, I don’t understand half the words they used. But that’s what all the experimentation is about. They want to make the Link work, without turning the users from human to — whatever we are. That’s why there are only twenty-eight of us left.
She wished Gina would shut up. She was too tired. The others aren’t dead or anything. They just disconnected from the V-Link when the implant was removed.
I think we got that wrong. In the article, they talk about brain biopsies after extraction. Brain biopsies, Roslyn.
Roslyn shuddered. Gina was lying. She had to be. They’re trying to save us!
I don’t think so.
Roslyn fought against the blankets, listening to her choked gasps and wondering if her lungs, somehow, had restarted. She was, for the first time, afraid it was all a lie.
We need to get strong, Roslyn. That means getting blood. Real blood. Not this plasma shit they’ve been feeding us.
She stopped fighting. Stared up at the ceiling. I won’t kill anyone.
Probably be better if you didn’t, Gina replied, and laughed her smoky, angry laugh. But we need to build our strength. Blood’s the only way.
Are you sure?
Yes. Gina broke the link, and Roslyn was alone.
She wriggled one arm free and pulled the sheets back from her body. Exhaustion overtook her, and she almost gave up, but then mentally kicked herself. Get up now!
She pulled herself upright, then grabbed her right leg and swung it over the edge of the bed. She almost fell to the floor, but gained control. She grabbed the other leg and moved it next to the first, like so much dead wood. Focusing on her legs, she tried to convince them to move. She couldn’t tell if she felt more like cheering or crying when she saw her right foot twitch. And then another twitch. And then, almost without thought, she was standing beside the bed, staring through the gloom at her walker. So far away.
“I can do this,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t lying to herself. She shuffled forward a step. Her eyesight darkened, but she waited it out. Another step and another, clutching first the bed, and then the chair no one ever used, and then the cupboard that held everything she had left from her other life — the clothes in which she had been caught. She wondered if they were still covered in Terry’s blood and tried not think of that. Two steps. She grabbed the walker and clung to it like an old friend. After a pause, she wheeled herself to the door and opened it.
A chair sat empty beside her door. The guard was no longer needed because she was no longer a threat. She hadn’t been out of that bed for months. She wheeled past it, away from the nurse’s station — she didn’t want
After the nurses disconnected her and wheeled her back to her bed, she struggled against her tightly tucked blankets until Gina’s voice rippled through her consciousness.
How do you feel?
Weak. She tried to pull her arms out from under the blankets, but couldn’t. A lot weaker, actually.
We were strong before they started all this. Very, very strong.
I know. But we can’t go back to that. It’s against the law.
The laws need to be changed.
Roslyn snorted laughter. Yeah. I’ll get right on that. Maybe run for office — if I could get out of bed!
I’m not kidding. Gina’s thoughts read deadly serious. They shouldn’t be treating us like this. We are real.
Of course we’re real. Roslyn thought about disconnecting. Gina was going to go into one of her conspiracy theory rants, and she didn’t feel up to it. Not after the blood-heart machine. Not after the screaming.
Don’t shut me down! Gina’s thoughts slammed into Roslyn’s head, bringing more than warmth. Heat — almost pain. I found an article in the New England Journal of Medicine. They are calling what happened to us an unintended side effect of the Link implant.
You think?
Just listen. Somehow the implant flipped a switch — a genetic switch in all of us. I don’t know how — hell, I don’t understand half the words they used. But that’s what all the experimentation is about. They want to make the Link work, without turning the users from human to — whatever we are. That’s why there are only twenty-eight of us left.
She wished Gina would shut up. She was too tired. The others aren’t dead or anything. They just disconnected from the V-Link when the implant was removed.
I think we got that wrong. In the article, they talk about brain biopsies after extraction. Brain biopsies, Roslyn.
Roslyn shuddered. Gina was lying. She had to be. They’re trying to save us!
I don’t think so.
Roslyn fought against the blankets, listening to her choked gasps and wondering if her lungs, somehow, had restarted. She was, for the first time, afraid it was all a lie.
We need to get strong, Roslyn. That means getting blood. Real blood. Not this plasma shit they’ve been feeding us.
She stopped fighting. Stared up at the ceiling. I won’t kill anyone.
Probably be better if you didn’t, Gina replied, and laughed her smoky, angry laugh. But we need to build our strength. Blood’s the only way.
Are you sure?
Yes. Gina broke the link, and Roslyn was alone.
She wriggled one arm free and pulled the sheets back from her body. Exhaustion overtook her, and she almost gave up, but then mentally kicked herself. Get up now!
She pulled herself upright, then grabbed her right leg and swung it over the edge of the bed. She almost fell to the floor, but gained control. She grabbed the other leg and moved it next to the first, like so much dead wood. Focusing on her legs, she tried to convince them to move. She couldn’t tell if she felt more like cheering or crying when she saw her right foot twitch. And then another twitch. And then, almost without thought, she was standing beside the bed, staring through the gloom at her walker. So far away.
“I can do this,” she whispered, hoping she wasn’t lying to herself. She shuffled forward a step. Her eyesight darkened, but she waited it out. Another step and another, clutching first the bed, and then the chair no one ever used, and then the cupboard that held everything she had left from her other life — the clothes in which she had been caught. She wondered if they were still covered in Terry’s blood and tried not think of that. Two steps. She grabbed the walker and clung to it like an old friend. After a pause, she wheeled herself to the door and opened it.
A chair sat empty beside her door. The guard was no longer needed because she was no longer a threat. She hadn’t been out of that bed for months. She wheeled past it, away from the nurse’s station — she didn’t want
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