November 22, 2009

Gerhardt surveyed the technicians manning the various consoles throughout the room. Nearly all of them appeared anxious, with an edge of excitement. Each gave him a silent acknowledgment of preparedness. He exchanged a look with O’Connell, who gave him a tight smile of confidence. Gerhardt turned his attention back to Nicholas.

“Whenever you’re ready, Nick,” he said.

Quiet descended like a heavy blanket upon the room. The only sounds came from the various machines and monitoring stations positioned throughout the room. All eyes that were not staring at specific screens were fixed on Nicholas. Although he could not express it visually, Gerhardt wondered if he was feeling the tension and how he might be experiencing it. Without the sensation of muscles tensing, and blood pressure rising, what did he feel? Just a sense of mental distraction? Gerhardt wondered. That, of course, was the last thing they needed today. He had coached Nicholas all he could; now it was entirely up to him.

Nothing at all happened for several, long moments. Several feet shuffled quietly, but no one spoke. The eyes of most of those present remained on Nicholas, but a few had begun to wander around the large chamber, to those of other people or to the various screens positioned throughout the room.

Gerhardt kept his own eyes on Nicholas. He did not want to miss even the smallest motion—and he wanted to be ready to jump in quickly if something went wrong. His attention was drawn by what he thought might have been a hint of motion, but he could not be certain. They had designed the motors that functioned as Nicholas’ joints to be as quiet as possible. In the end, when everything in the exoskeleton was operational, he would not make the ominous “clunk, clunk” sound so often portrayed in countless science fiction and horror films. It was not merely a matter of aesthetics, but also of efficiency. A system that was noisy usually meant that it was being [overtaxed] in some way, increasing the likelihood of failure.

There was an also an element of pragmatism to it as well. Gerhardt was continually made aware that funding for the development of Nicholas’ new parts could be reduced or eliminated at any time. Gerhardt wanted to make sure they got it as close to right as they could the first time; there might not be any second time. He glanced over to one of the technicians. He nodded back at him, trying to suppress a wide smile. Gerhardt looked down at Nicholas’ legs. Yes, he saw, the foot had definitely been lifted about a centimeter, with the leg lower leg slowly beginning to pivot on the knee joint.

The foot stopped about ten centimeters from the floor. It remained there for several moments. The room had become quiet again as everyone else noticed what was happening. Some of the people were pointing out to others what had happened. They now all waited for the next hint of movement.

This next part was critical, Gerhardt knew. They had tested the combination of the systems in the lab and knew that they could work in unison, if the proper instructions were given to them in the proper sequence. Nicholas has learned how to do this with his arms and hands, but have never had a chance, until now, to do the same with his new legs. Gerhardt hoped that he understood what was necessary in order to make it happen.

The foot began to slowly descend to the floor until it rested on it again. There were general murmurs of disappointment and even Gerhardt felt his own confidence fade. In the testing lab, this would have been a more than satisfactory result. Here and now, it could be a profound disaster.

A sudden, excited hush fell on the room. Gerhardt looked at Nicholas, having been momentarily lost in his own thoughts. The foot has risen again to about the same height as before. It now began to rotate on the joint that functioned as its ankle, slowly and hesitantly at first, and then more smoothly. Gerhardt felt his earlier doubt vanish, replaced by a flush of growing pride in Nicholas’ progress. This was never about him, Gerhardt realized. Adamson could take away his management of his projects, cancel them, or even fire him. He did not care about any of that. He had his military pension and a few other benefits. The money was not an issue; it never had been. It had been about trying to help someone else succeed. That someone was Nicholas.

The foot ceased its movement, now stopped at a slight upward angle. Like the others, Gerhardt now watched and waited. He knew what needed to happen next, even if most of the others present did not. His eyes fixed their gaze at the larger joint that served as Nicholas’ hip. With the same, slow and deliberate motions as the ankle had performed, it too began to move. It swayed in a narrow arc, swinging the foot and leg like a slow pendulum. Nicholas was testing his control of the metal limb and its motor systems, Gerhardt guessed.

The leg slowed to a stop, with the metal “hip” angled slightly forward. The configuration looked about right, Gerhardt decided, but the job was only halfway done. His eyes darted over to Nicholas’ hands, where they gripped the horizontal supports. He half expected to find the fingers clenched around the metal, leaving indents as they had that one day when the hand’s feedback system had failed. Gerhardt nearly laughed at himself. That was not likely to happen today, as it would be primarily an instinctive response. Nicholas’ no longer had the same kind of reflexive reactions to certain situations. Since he no longer had an inner ear, or even an equivalent, he would not know that he was falling except from what he perceived visually. He would have long since hit the ground before he could react. Gerhardt had no doubt that, eventually, Nicholas’ would be able to reach the point where some movements became automatic. Getting to respond to the appropriate stimuli in quite that way might prove to be difficult, though.

Most adults, Gerhardt knew, did not understand the complex sets of movements required in order to simply walk. Their first steps were so far rooted in their earliest childhood days that he would be surprised if any of them had any memory of all of their first steps. As a military commander, he had seen soldiers going through rehabilitation, some even fitted with prosthetic limbs, learning to walk again. It was not until he had been forced to actually design the process for Nicholas that he grasped the amazing complexity required. It was astonishing, he remembered thinking, that we don’t still run around on all four limbs.

Nicholas was now doing something with his other leg. Gerhardt noted that he had started with his left leg. According to the records, Nicholas was right-handed. Gerhardt made a mental note to add to his ever-growing list that this seemed to reinforce the theory that “handedness” resided in the brain, not in the wiring of the body.

Nicholas’ upper body began to sway slightly from front to back. It was only the matter of perhaps a centimeter, but more than enough to get Gerhardt’s attention. He quickly studied the movement of Nicholas’ other leg and realized that the boy was attempting to repeat the series of actions that he just completed with his other leg. If he continued, he would either end up suspended by his arms from the support bars or, if his grip failed, failing on his metal ass.

Gerhardt started to take a step forward and then halted. Nicholas’ other leg had stopped moving and was back in its original upright position. Gerhardt waited, looking up at Nicholas’ face. He kept his expression mostly neutral, but hopefully with some degree of positive encouragement for the young man. Think it through, Nick, he urged Nicholas silently. Think it through.

He looked up to find Nicholas staring at him. Actually, the direction of the boy’s gaze had never changed, not even downward, Gerhardt suddenly realized. Why not? Wouldn’t he want to see what his feet where doing? It seemed very strange, and more than a little disconcerting, but now was not the time to distract the boy with questions. Gerhardt got the oddest feeling that Nicholas was smiling at him, although he knew that it was currently impossible.

Nicholas’ entire body suddenly began to shift forward. Gerhardt tensed, ready to leap in and prevent it from plunging to the floor. He checked himself at the instinctive reaction, despite the images that flashed through his mind. More than once, Nicholas had ended up the lab floor when he was not supposed and had, so far, not suffered any more than very minor cosmetic damage. In fact, he tended to chip the concrete, not the other way around.

Nicholas landed on his previously foot with a definite thud, but not as loud as Gerhardt might have expected. His other foot remained flat on the floor. Nicholas was now positioned with both hips slightly pivoted and the second leg now slightly behind. It now moved slightly ahead, gliding along as Nicholas’ hands pulled him forward. He stopped, both legs now straight as when he first started, but now several centimeters further along the horizontal support bars. For a moment, Gerhardt had the mental image of a young man panting heavily with exertion, looking tired, but glowing with triumph. Of course, Nicholas could express none of this, and his exoskeleton did not grow tired as an organic body would.

There was a long moment of silence as Nicholas, apparently for instructions from Gerhardt to continue. They were not needed. The gallery of people both inside the room and in the observation galley broke into applause. The small demonstration had been enough to prove their point. Gerhardt was relieved. Nicholas could practice refining his movements without the need for an audience.

Gerhardt glanced over at Adamson. The Director seemed quite satisfied with the results of the demonstration. He caught her eye for only a moment before she turned back to converse with one of the many dignitaries surrounding her. Both Gerhardt and Nicholas waited for the clamor to die down. It did so, slowly.

“Gentlemen and ladies,” Adamson announced. “That concludes our demonstration for now.” She gestured for the door to be opened. “There are refreshments for you in the main conference area where members of my staff and I will be available to answer your questions.”

Gerhardt had heard about the reception, but neither he or Kincaid—nor any member of their staffs that they knew of—had been asked to attend. What Adamson had apparently meant by “my staff” was her cadre of lawyers and public relations specialists. That was fine with Gerhardt, he decided. He was more concerned with Nicholas at the time, and what effects of this demonstration had had on him.

The room cleared fairly swiftly, but not quickly enough for Gerhardt’s taste. He waited quietly, exchanging a glance in silence with Kincaid, who had come to stand beside him. Together, they watched the crowd file out, still chatting excitedly with each other. Gerhardt had a bad feeling about this entire production, but had difficulty putting his finger on what exactly troubled him the most about it.