November 24, 2009

Gerhardt looked up at the technician. "David, cycle it up two notches."

The technician responded with a puzzled expression. "Two, Doctor?"

Gerhardt gave him a reassuring smile. "Yes," he said. "Two, please."

"Yes, Doctor Gerhardt," the technician acknowledged, still looking slightly uncomfortably, but turned back to the console to make the requested adjustments.

Despite the time that had passed since he had left the military, and completed his advanced degree, it still very strange to be addressed as "Doctor". While it was entirely appropriate and deserved, in his mind, the honorific belonged to surgeons and other who worked medical marvels, not stuffy lab-coated researchers.

Gerhardt looked toward Kincaid. "Everything okay at your end?"

The lead researcher had just returned from talking to one of his own technicians. He nodded to Gerhardt. "There're some minor fluctuations that we can filter out in the next batch," he said, "but not nearly as bad as we expected." He glanced at Nicholas' hand. "It'll probably get worse when the signal cycled up," he went on. "But again, we should be able to filter it out moving forward."

Gerhardt nodded slowly, understanding the other man's implied warning. The initial tests seemed positive, but there remained the risk that something could go wrong, possibly badly wrong.

"Ready, Doctor Gerhardt," David announced from his platform.

Gerhardt turned toward the technician assisting Kincaid. She gave him a single nod of confirmation.

"Okay, Nick," he said, now addressing the young man. "We're ready to try again. Are you ready?"

The answer came quickly.

"Yes."

Gerhardt smiled. He had few doubts about the young man's determination.

He conducted the same tests on the surfaces of Nicholas' hand with the stylus. This time, he needed to apply a much smaller amount of pressure before Nicholas responded. When he was satisfied that they had gathered enough data, he turned to Nicholas.

"Nick," he said. "I'd like to try just a few more things and then we'd call it a day for these particular tests. Okay?"

There seemed to be an unexpected delay before Nicholas responded.

"Yes."

Once again, Gerhardt wished that Nicholas' voice carried some variation in tone that might provide clues to his emotional state. He made a mental point of checking in with that team as soon as they were finished here to see if they had made any progress since the last time he had talked to them.

"This'll just take a minute," he said. "The same thing as before, though," he instructed Nicholas. "Let me know if you feel anything."

"Yes."

Gerhardt extended his forefinger and ran it along the length of the back of Nicholas' hand, applying just the lightest of pressure. The stylus had provided essentially pinpoint contact with the surface of the artificial skin, registering on only a small number of sensors. Gerhardt wanted to see what happened if a larger collection of them were activated at the same time. He looked up toward Nicholas' face, but the young man said nothing.

Pressing with just slighter more force, he brought his finger back along the hand again.

"Yes." Nicholas said suddenly.

Gerhardt removed his finger. That was not the response that Nicholas had been providing during the previous tests.

"Not 'pain'?" Gerhardt asked him.

"No." Nicholas said.

Gerhardt frowned thoughtfully. "But you can sense something?"

"Yes."

The result was what Gerhardt had been half-expecting, but he had been uncertain how Nicholas would interpret. "Okay, Nick," he said. "Let me try one more thing." He looked up at the technician. "David, up one more notch."

The technician nodded silently and made the adjustment.

Gerhardt traced the same path down Nicholas' hand again, using a lighter pressure.

"Yes." Nicholas said quickly.

"But not 'pain' again?"

"No."

A tight, but definite, smile crept onto Gerhardt's lips. "Okay, that's good," he said. He gestured for the technician to deactivate the connection. He leaned back in the chair, studying Nicholas' hand intently. "Okay, Nick," he said after several moments. "We’re going to bring your visual systems back online. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Gerhardt nodded toward the other technician, who made an adjustment on his station. Several indicators changed color. The halo-shaped irises in the small spheres that were Nicholas' eyes resumed their soft glow. Gerhardt had the oddest feeling that Nicholas experienced a mental sigh of relief to be able to see again.

His sight restored, Nicholas looked down at his hand, still covered with the slick, mottled-gray glove. He flexed the fingers again, as if reassuring himself that they still worked as before.

"Ugly."

Gerhardt turned his head to see where Nicholas was looking. He broke into a deep laugh as he realized what Nicholas was referring to. "It is, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry about that," Gerhardt chuckled. "It can be dyed to almost any color you want," he said. "We can even give you a permanent tan."

For a long time Nicholas did not respond. Gerhardt began to wonder if he gone too far, reminding the young man yet again of what he had lost. In all likelihood, he would never again feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, at least not in the same way he had before the accident.

"All right, Nick," Gerhardt finally said. "I'm going to remove this now," he said, his hand hovering above the glove of artificial skin. He gave Nicholas a reassuring smile. "There're some enhancements I want the lab to make before we try this again."

Gerhardt began to peel the glove from Nicholas' hand, starting from his wrist. It came away with a hollow sucking sound as it freed itself from the metal surface of Nicholas' fingers and hand. Nicholas' gaze remained fixed on his hand as Gerhardt finished removing the layer of artificial flesh. If Gerhardt did not know better, he would have thought that Nicholas watched with an expression of longing and disappointment.

"Give the boys and girls in the lab a few days to work their magic," Gerhardt said. "Then we'll try again."

There was a brief pause before Nicholas responded.

"Yes."

Gerhardt smiled and patted his arm. "Good boy." He rose and started to leave the room. "I think Dr. Kincaid wants to work with you for a bit," he said. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Soon."

Gerhardt's smile deepened. He nodded slowly. "Soon," he agreed, and left the room, taking the two pieces of material with him.

Kincaid stepped into Nicholas' view. "Nicholas," he said with a formal geniality. "I’d like to run a few test to see if there were any changes due to those tests we just ran."

When Nicholas did not respond, Kincaid set to work, beginning to attach leads from some monitoring system behind Nicholas. Nicholas allowed Kincaid to perform his work, for his thoughts were elsewhere. He imagined himself standing on a beach, as the sun shining brightly down on him, wearing a new skin.

#

[earlier]

Belinda entered the elevator with the two men and waited while Kincaid swiped his card over the access panel. The doors closed and the elevator began to move. She noticed immediately that it was descending, heading toward levels below those of the main lobby. That usually meant departments that required additional protection and security. While she appreciated the premium fees that her security clearances could command on occasion, she heavily disliked and distrusted the heavy secrecy that those assignments usually required. They were often the most interesting of her cases, but it was a nuisance that the security restrictions prevented her from ever publishing any work based on the situation.

The levels were not numbered on the elevator panel, or at least they were not legible to her from where she stood. She tried to count the chimes as the elevator descended, but they seemed to come at irregular intervals, so she gave, guessing that they had not passed thirteen floors. If it was a technique to prevent such an effort, it was effective, she decided.

She felt the elevator begin to decelerate, coming to a slow, barely noticeable stop. Kincaid swiped his ID card again. The doors opened onto a plain, utilitarian corridor. It was step above cinder blocks and concrete, Belinda determined, but not by much.

"This way, Doctor O'Connell," Kincaid said, gesturing her into the corridor. He took the lead, with Gerhardt close behind her.

They walked down what seemed to be the central hallway, passing only a handful of other people. What few they passed give them little attention. Belinda tried to keep her gaze fixed ahead, but could not completely resist trying to make out the meaning of the various signs through her peripheral vision as they passed. They made a left turn that lead to a stretch of corridor that ended with an imposing-looking door. It resembled an airlock, but lacked most of the toxic warnings that she would have expected.

Kincaid halted short of this complex portal, stopping at a relatively normal looking door on the left. He slid his card through the reader. Belinda heard the click of the lock and Kincaid opened the door, holding for her to enter. For a moment, she thought he and Gerhardt might leave her alone in this room, as she had been earlier in the conference room. He entered behind her, though, and waited for Gerhardt before closing the door behind them.

The room was nearly empty, reminding her uncomfortably of a police station interrogation room. She had seen her share of those throughout the years, although she had managed to evade most of those assignments in recent years. This room had that same barren, functional feel to it. It consisted of a small table and four chairs. On the table sat a small workstation display and a microphone. Belinda had the strangest feeling that they wanted her to provide a psychoanalysis of a purportedly self-aware computer program. As far as she knew, that still remained in the realm of science fiction, but she had learned never to underestimate what she might encounter at one of these installations.

She paused just inside the doorway, waiting for instructions for either of the two scientists. Gerhardt seemed to sense her hesitation and gave her a quick, understanding smile.

"Please, Doctor O'Connell," he offered, gesturing toward the table. "Take a seat."

Belinda eyed the table and moved toward the chair that faced the doorway. There was no doubt that she was in a very secure location, but she could find no reason not to exercise her usual caution. She placed her briefcase on the table and glanced at each of the two men before taking a seat. Neither of them made any move to sit down as well.

"Whenever you're ready, Doctor," Gerhardt said, gestured toward the microphone.

Belinda studied Gerhardt for a moment, but his expression told her nothing about what to expect. If this was some kind of complex practical joke on her, he did not seem to be in on it.