Chapter 3

A month later:

John Morgan’s alarm woke him up at eight a.m. Just as it did every morning. He silenced it with his only finger and grabbed the bar to sit himself up. Today was going to be trying, without a doubt. There was a reason he avoided going around in public. Constant pity is wearying after a while.

No time for that today, though. His visitors would arrive at eleven, and he still needed to work out, clean himself up and be presentable by then. He clipped his workout leg prosthetics into his artificial knee joints and his hard-use gripping arm prosthetic into his left elbow socket. Its tactile feedback was lower, but anything more fragile ended up destroyed after only a few weeks of his exercising. He leaned forward and pushed to stand. No wobble this morning. Joints were all tight, feet were stable for a change.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he grabbed a pair of shorts and shirt. Getting dressed was a little more challenging, but as long as he wore loose clothing, it didn’t catch on his metal parts too often. Since he couldn’t drive anyway, his garage doubled as a gym. He slid the main door open, and cracked the side entrance to get a little circulation. The Florida heat was already building this morning, so he needed to get started. He started with some balance work, getting into a rhythm and letting his body get loose.

Today it was his personal modification to a famous body-weight workout: row, pull-ups, push-ups and squats, then row again. He concluded with hanging inverted sit-ups, tapping the hooks with a twenty-five pound plate. Swinging back upright from the sit-ups was always tricky, but that was why he did one-handed pull-ups some days. His remaining hand, with one finger and thumb, could lift his entire body, with attached prosthetics, plus another forty pounds.

Satisfied with his performance, he moved back into the house to clean up. This part was a little more tricky. Yes, he could wear the prosthetics, but even though they were water-repelling, repeated soaking would cause unneeded degradation. He had waterproof plugs for all his attachment points, and so long as he used the air hose he’d hooked up in the bathroom when he dried off, they should be fine. It sucked sitting on the shower floor naked, but there wasn’t any other way to do it by himself.

Drying off went smoothly, a little bit of graphite on the attachments and they went back into their drawer. He retrieved the fine-motor prosthetics for the upcoming visitors. The legs were a little more difficult to balance in, but they let him look more normal. Given the Sergeant Major’s comments, he was probably going to agree to whatever they wanted. So he attached the dexterous arm, since government people meant paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. Ugh.

He had to walk more slowly, but it wasn’t grandma-speed. He filled up the teapot and set it on the stove. He stocked the coffee-maker with his favorite veteran-made grounds. Fuck that sugar-filled crap everyone liked these days. He grabbed a box of wafers and filled a small plate with them. He made his way around the living room, picking up and making sure it looked clean. He didn’t entertain much, so there wasn’t a whole lot to do. Mostly he was keeping busy until they showed.

He couldn’t believe how nervous he felt. He knew how to dress to minimize his ghastly appearance, but the thought that the gorgeous doctor might show and look at him with disgust, or worse, pity was almost enough to make him cancel the whole thing. Ellis hadn’t been sure she would come for this first meeting, but was convinced she was behind it. Wouldn’t say how he knew, but the retired senior non-commissioned officer was a master at keeping things to himself.

The gate sensor alerted, and he steeled himself. He put on a baseball cap and sunglasses, then pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. The scarring on his cheek, and gravely voice he couldn’t do much about without resorting to a complete balaclava, but what he had on should minimize the impact. He hoped.

He moved over to the door, and waited for them to knock. They were polite, used the bell instead. He counted to three in his head, and opened the door. Two men already sweating through their suits, and her looking cool as a cucumber. He held the door open for them, and gestured.

“Welcome. Come in please.”

An average-everything, medium-build white guy walked in first. His lips moved into a smile and he held out his hand to shake.

“I’m Johnson. Pleased to meet you, John.” His tone was oily, and set off John’s untrustworthy radar.

So, he turned his finger and thumb into a steel circle and crushed Johnson’s hand.

“Whatever you say, Slick.” John rasped back.

Next was the other man, a shorter Vietnamese gentleman.

“John, glad to meet you in person. I’m Steve.” He held his hand out too.

John was gentler with him.

“Steve, how are you? You’re the one who spoke with me the other day.” He confirmed.

“I am.” Steve glanced at Johnson. “Though I had help.”

“I’m sure you did.” John replied dryly.

Her skirt was short, her legs long, made even more so by the heels she wore. Her blouse was thin, though not transparent. She had a coat that matched the skirt material, hung over one arm, and a small leather case in the other hand. Her icy gray eyes regarded his sunglasses, as though she could see right through them. A hint of smile hovered over her mouth. His one hand trembled and his heart beat faster.

“Doc.” He swept his arm, moving a surprised Johnson aside. “It’s good to see you, please come in. Come in.”

She stepped into the house, and out of the way so he could shut the door. Then she set the case down, and laid the jacket over it. With a real smile now, she moved to him. Her hands came up beside his face and his breath hissed in. Calmly, she pulled his hood back. One hand took the brim of his cap, the other his sunglasses. Both came off together, and she turned to set them down on the side table.

“There.” She turned back, regarding him. “Let’s have a look at you.”

After an unbearable moment, he tried for a joke.

“Don’t take too long, this is the best I’ve looked all day.”

How lame. But she smiled anyway. He realized she was just a hair taller than he was, with her heels on.

“You’ve done remarkably well.” She complimented him. “When I first saw you, I wasn’t sure you’d live out the month. But our friend told me you had no quit in you. Look at you now, standing here, shaking hands like it’s nothing.”

She leaned forward and brushed her lips over his scarred cheek.

“Dashing.” She whispered, breasts brushing his chest before turning, squatting and retrieving her case and coat.

She strode into the living room and set her case on the coffee table. The two men followed her, with John happily bringing up the rear. He could still smell her perfume, faint though it was. Good thing his clothes were so loose.

“Fascinating.” Steve muttered to Johnson.

“You said it.” Johnson seconded back.

“You two sit there.” She pointed at the larger couch.

She sat on the smaller one, and patted the cushion beside her. Her legs scissored to cross while she waited. John debated plopping down into the easy chair, but couldn’t bring himself to be that rude. Once he got into place, her knees swung over to press against his thigh. She cocked her head, looking at Johnson expectantly.

“Oh no.” That one shook his head. “This is your show now. You’re on.”

Both sat back and crossed their arms, like they’d rehearsed it together.

She blinked. “Good.”

She turned to John. “How’d you like to have a whole body again?”

A host of emotions crossed his face, too quickly for her to glean.

“Doc!” He growled warningly.

Her hand circled over his chest.

“I don’t mean we can change what you’ve got here.” She leaned forward, and he gritted his teeth to keep from looking down her blouse. “But what if I could put you into a simulation that felt completely real, and you’ve have a complete body in it?”

He looked away, then at the two men for confirmation.

“Completely real?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Johnson’s nod was serious.

“Almost too real.” Steve added, which made Johnson elbow his side.

“What?” He looked at his colleague. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“Problem?” John moved his questioning eye from one face to the other.

Veronyka scowled at them. “John. John!”

He returned his attention.

“So,” she took a deep breath, and let everything out in a rush, “we have access to a simulation. We didn’t make it. And the only way to engage with it is to have someone actually go in and experience it, like it was real life. We can monitor that, but only while the test subject is inside. And only what they actually see and hear and do. It’s a self-contained world, with its own inhabitants, their own culture and everything. Totally fascinating stuff.”

“That sounds very exciting. Why me?” John worked to keep his eye on her face.

And not on the overwhelmingly alluring rest of her.

“The natives are well ... a bit violent. And primitive. And well, strange.” She answered.

“Violent, primitive and strange.” John repeated. “That clears it right up.”

“Jo-ohn!” She whined playfully. “We’re into NDA territory now. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time on the Net. Ellis mentioned you’ve even played a few online games with friends. They’re not your forte, but you have combat experience in what do you types call it? Non-permissive environments?”

“Us types?” He tried not to laugh.

“You know, tough guys. With the gear and the guns and all that. Secret squirrels, isn’t that the joke?” She laid a hand on his real arm.