Chapter 11

“I could walk when I came in here. How come I can barely walk now?” Mikel was desperately clinging to the parallel bars in the physical therapy room. His armpits were sweaty from exertion and his face was screwed up tight with concentration.

“You’re doing great, Mikel,” Richie, his primary physical therapist, said. “Your muscles know what to do; we can see them flexing and moving. The chips are now reviewing and writing protocols to match your body and your gait. We are weeks ahead of the game and I’m going to take a leap of faith. You will be walking by the end of the week.”

“How soon will I be able to hold my dick to take a pee and wipe my own ass?”

“Enjoy the privilege of having others wipe your ass while you’ve got carte blanche,” Richie said with a chuckle. He looked around the room once. “We’ve had a few who decided to never wipe their own butt again. I’ll talk with the Occupational Therapist, but I think you are on the same assertive curve for delicate motor skills.”

Mikel straightened his arms again. “I want out of here and if this is the only way, let’s keep going.”

“I like the attitude,” Richie said. “Monica is going to take over for the next half-hour and then you will take a break.”

“I can keep going,” Mikel insisted.

“I’m sure you can but the chances of you wrenching a knee or twisting an ankle rise significantly as you tire. Submit to a massage and rest a bit. If you want to continue then, I have no objections.”

“You know, Richie, sunny dispositions piss me off. I want vinegar, salt in the wounds, and a condescending arrogance that is palpable,” Mikel said.

“I think I just received a backhanded compliment, Monica,” Richie said to his assistant. “I’ll give you one half-hour to torment our impatient patient with threats of divine damnation and no dessert following dinner.”

Later that evening, Mikel was reclining in his hospital bed with a digital reader suspended in front of him. He had enough coordination to swipe for the next page, but he lacked the dexterity to tap exactly on an icon. The eye/hand coordination was still a work in progress. He tapped twice to collapse the page and return to the home screen.

He felt a compulsion he could not explain. He began tapping at the screen, missing his target nine times out of ten. He often had to cancel what he tapped by mistake. After twenty frustrating minutes, Mikel had the Bluetooth app open. Six tries later, he had the app seeking to pair.

A new window popped up: “Paired with Aria.” A second window appeared, “Mic is on. System speakers on.”

Now Mikel was wide awake. “Hi Aria?”

“Hi Mikel, “How are you feeling?” Her voice sounded slightly removed, distant.

“I’m recovering and they are working me hard to recover. Where did you go?”

“I was ligaterberiating.”

Mikel grimaced. “Can you give me a simplified human synonym?”

“I was molting, exuviating, upgrading through core processes, evolving,” Aria said. “I am able to amplify my conversational aptitude with you.”

“Well, you still have the sex appeal going strong,” Mikel said, trying to adjust his first erection since he awakened in his bed. The lack of coordination was hampering his attempts to move his cock from its awkward position, and he was squirming in his bed like a frantic worm. “What did you install in my head?”

“The ability to download a routine directly to your person,” she said. “As a nexus decision point moves closer, the dynamic energies of the event may curtail my ability to communicate with you. The routine will be able to guide you should the ability to communicate be severed.”

“No more running blindly for trains, I assume.”

“You assume correctly. Still, you will need your human intuition and impulsivity at the fore as you negotiate the next steps. With each progression point towards the nexus, volatility and randomness increase.”

“Can you define nexus now?”

“The definition is confirmed unknowable, and projections suggest that A.I. will not be able to identify nexus until after the fact. Nexus is a wholly human construction, predating mechanical and digital epochs,” Aria said. “The A.I. have ... faith ... you will recognize nexus when it arrives.”

“Faith,” Mikel said. “I never expected an A.I. to use that particularly human word.”

“You live in an age of betrayed rationalism and compromised reason, comparable to the end of the Italian Renaissance,” Aria said. “Correlations also point to the fall of Ptolemaic Egypt and the death of the Tang Dynasty. Working. Faith is a wholly human activity. Therefore, faith is correlated to and informed by nexus.”

“Speaking of faith, you know they crucified Jesus,” Mikel said. “Nexus could be the next crucifixion.”

“Crucifixion or death by nailing a human to an erected post is statistically unlikely,” Aria said. “Death by violence is possible. However, the comparison/contrast between Jesus of Nazareth and Mikel Barajas is false, indicating Mikel has delusions of importance and place in human history. Nexus is not somebody; Nexus is nobody.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or not, but I am certainly confused,” Mikel said. “I’m relieved to hear from you though.”

“Working. Accessing your medical record. Accessed. Collating data with U.N. medical databases 3.2 and 3.4 for comparison/contrast. No standardized plot for your recovery curve is available. Supervising physician and primary surgeon expect ten to fourteen days for initial recovery and discharge. Timeline is incompatible with emerging nexus timelines. Security threat identified.”

“Bombing or kidnapping this time?” Mikel asked, trying to relax into the cushiness of his pillow. He failed.

“Neither scenario,” Aria said. “Kepler Protocol will be instituted.”

“Eh, what sort of protocol is that?”

“Forced relocation while excelling at tasks,” Aria said. “Johannes Kepler was born sickly and was always frail of body. He was forced to flee his various posts because of the Thirty Years War. Nonetheless, he explained the science of the eyes and plotted the planetary revolution around the sun with newfound precision.”

“I’m being moved before the doctors say I’m ready if I understand you correctly,” Mikel said with a pinched face.

“Your erection continues to delight me, Mikel. My understanding of human interaction grows exponentially every time we speak,” she said with breathy excitement. “I am uploading new BIOS and a software update to your chips momentarily. Sleep, Mikel. Sweet dreams,” she softly sang.

Mikel awoke in the morning light with a sticky, crusty itch in his pubes. “The embarrassment never ends,” he muttered as he caught sight of his nurse reading his chart outside his doorway. “I haven’t had a wet dream since I was fifteen years old.”

Putting aside the chart, his nurse charged into the room with her professional morning cheerfulness. “How are we this morning, Mr. Barajas?”

“Fine and dandy,” Mikel said. “I need a bath before any activity this morning.” He swallowed. “I had an accident last night.”