Cyber Dreams 2.10 - Under the Knife

Hi all! Enjoy the chapter. Please be sure to let me know if any of these cybernetic upgrades sound too far-fetched. I think I addressed one concern about the blood, but maybe not. Let me know what you think! :)

-Plum

When Doctor Murphy walked into the waiting room, she found Juliet nearly dozing off, her eyes heavy, and Paul standing in the far corner having a hushed conversation with someone on a vid call. Juliet rapidly blinked when Angel alerted her to the doctor’s presence and stood up, “Hey, Murph.”

“January,” Murphy said with a pointed look at Paul. Juliet had made sure to let the doctor know that she wasn’t on a real-name basis with her employers. “You ready to get started? My plate’s clear for the day, and your employer’s,” she nodded to Paul, “down payment just cleared.”

“About that,” Paul said, clearing his throat and moving closer to the two women. “We have some additional budget, and I think January wanted to speak to you about her options.”

“Sure, suit. Just tell me how much we can spend, and my client and I will have a heart-to-heart before I put her under.” Murphy’s dismissive tone surprised Juliet, but she smiled at the uncomfortable grimace it evoked from Paul.

“I was thinking I should be in on that discussion . . .”

“I guess he is the one with the bits.” Juliet shrugged.

“I’d feel better if January made the decision without you breathing down her neck. Give us some general ideas of what you’re looking for, and then I’ll make it happen,” Murphy said, clearly not impressed or bothered by the fact that Paul held the purse strings.

“For the job, she needs to demonstrate compatibility with invasive cybernetic modification. Moreover, whatever you decide to do has to be healed and ready by Friday.”

“That’s a pretty damn rapid turnaround. If I were doing some eyes or ears, I’d say no problem, but some of the stuff you’re asking for will require major recovery. You have the budget for nanite and nutrient blood infusion? If you want her ready by Friday, I’ll need to keep her plugged in for two or three hours a day.”

“Yes, of course. We already agreed to your recuperation estimate; send me a new one if you need to add to that expense.” Paul frowned and pushed his glasses up; they’d slid down the bridge of his nose while he paced in a small circle, arms folded. “As long as you understand what we need, I’ll leave the decision to you and January. The custom cybernetics are in this cooler.

“Everything’s prepared—the grafts for her cheeks and fingertips, the custom nanite batteries for her saliva and blood treatment, and the scalp and hair. I’ve included data for you to program her retinas and the relevant ID files for her PAI.”

“Mmhmm, and am I going to have to worry about scanning all of these custom implants for malware? You going to be spying on my client?” Murphy folded her arms and frowned at Paul. Juliet wasn’t even the target of her glare, and she felt intimidated.

“No; we’d be too worried about the operation target noticing such things. Not to mention,” he added with a nod to Juliet, “Trevor was fairly sure that January would spot any trackers or snoopers.” Paul smiled briefly at Juliet, then turned back to Murphy’s glare.

“Okay, so I have my budget; we know what you want done. Will that be all?”

“I’m going to wait here until January’s in recovery if you don’t mind. We have a lot riding on this operation, and my superiors will want to know that things went smoothly.” To illustrate his intentions to stick around, Paul moved back to his chair and sat down.

“Suit yourself,” Murphy said, stooping to pick up the plastic cooler. “Follow me, January. We’ll get you prepped.”

“Thanks, Paul,” Juliet said, offering him a small wave as she followed Murphy through the swinging door. They walked past her small outpatient operating rooms, where Juliet had nearly had a panic attack the last time she’d visited. They turned down a hallway and entered a large, very sterile-looking operating room, complete with three noticeably fancier beds than the one Tsakanikas had used.

The floor and walls were all epoxy-treated concrete, the tables were plasteel and stainless, and everything was covered in disposable plastic wrapping material. Murphy pointed to a corner of the room where a white curtained partition blocked her view. “There’s a gown for you to put on behind that curtain. There’s a locker there for your things; go ahead and stow your bag and guns in there. I’ll make sure no one fucks with ‘em.”

“Thanks, Murph.” Juliet followed her instructions, and when she’d wrapped herself in the white, disposable gown and stuffed her things in the locker, she paused before she touched the bio-lock. “Doc, my fingerprints are about to change. I can’t lock this.”

“No one’s here other than Trojan, and I have him doing a deep clean while the office is closed. If you can’t trust me with your backpack, you probably shouldn’t trust me with a surgical bed.”

Juliet snorted and nodded, stepping out from behind the curtain. “At least this gown isn’t open at the back . . .”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m going to be slicing that thing up to get at your body. By the time you wake up, I’ll have you dressed in a new one.”

“Why make me put it on then?” Juliet asked, hopping up on the foot of the surgical bed Murphy patted in invitation.

“I guess it’s sort of a comfort blanket type thing. I mean, you don’t want to sit here and chat with me about your procedure in the nude, do you?”

“I guess not.” Juliet shifted, suddenly glad Murphy was doing her work and not Tsakanikas. Something about the woman just made her feel sure she saw her the same way a mechanic might see an engine she was working on.

“Okay, before we talk about what we’re adding to the docket, let’s go over the things that suit brought over, hmm?” Murphy hoisted the plastic container up onto a stainless rolling cart and proceeded to break the seals around the lid.

“You don’t like corpos, do you?” Juliet asked.

“Hell no, and that’s a very long story, so don’t ask me why. I’ll tell you sometime over a couple of ice-cold martinis; how’s that sound?” Murphy began to pull out plastic-wrapped sterile containers.

“Sounds fair.” Juliet leaned back on her hands, already getting uncomfortable sitting on the edge of the surgical bed.

“Here’s the scalp and the synth-hair. Shit, they didn’t go cheap! You’ll be able to program this hair. You can speed up or halt its natural growth and stimulate custom color cells to change its appearance. Your PAI should be able to handle it, assuming you’ve got the nerve connections.”

“We do,” Angel said, but it was unnecessary; Juliet knew Angel had grown her nano synth nerves far more extensively than a normal PAI would or could . . . safely. Her mind jumped to an image of one of the corrupted dreamers with wriggling blue synth nerve fibers poking out of his eyes, and she shuddered.

“I do. My PAI is prepped for all of this stuff.”

“Wish I knew where you got that work done. Not at all common . . . “ Murphy trailed off, setting the container down and picking up another. “Goddamn, they didn’t skimp on you, Juliet. These are the fingerprint grafts, and, once again, they’re programmable. They really didn’t need to do that. If I were them—thank God I’m not—I would have just given you prints with the fake ID loaded up.”

“Seriously? Do they think I might need to change them on the fly? Maybe to gain access to something while I’m on the job?”

“That could be,” Murphy nodded, setting them aside, then she pulled out another container with a digital display on the top. She stared at it for several minutes, and Juliet shifted uncomfortably, waiting for her to explain what it was. Finally, Murph whistled and set it down. “That’s your blood spoofer. It includes a nanite battery and swarm that will sit in the bone of your ulna up near your elbow. It’s small, just a couple of centimeters in diameter, and about as long as your pinky.

“I’ll have to run a shunt from it to a synth flesh graft that will replace the skin on your inner arm. It has false veins in it, Juliet, that channel blood through the nanite battery in a loop, bypassing your normal circulatory system. Its design is rather robust; there’s a one-way valve controlled by the nanite battery that will allow blood into the loop but not out. That way, someone can draw as many sample vials as they want—the blood from those veins will contain the fake DNA.”

“I guess that means I have to make sure they pull blood out of that vein. What if they want to use my other arm?”

“This one will look nice and plump; any phlebotomist would go for it. Your data jack is in the other arm, anyway; just tell anyone taking blood that people struggle to get a needle in that vein.” Murphy winked at her, then said, “Hang on a sec, though; let’s go over the last package.”

Murphy pulled out another plastic-wrapped container, also topped with a digital display, and studied it for a minute, then she whistled and said, “Damn, girl. You’re going to be a ghost with all this gear. This set has skin grafts for your cheeks with programmable DNA expressers. More than that, they included synthetic, programmable salivary glands. This shit is expensive, custom gear, Juliet. What kind of damn job are you doing?”

“Wish I could tell you, Murph. I mean, I really wish I could tell you; I’m not sure yet.”

“You gonna be okay, kiddo?” Murphy asked, setting the container down and scooting her stool closer to Juliet, looking into her eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so, Murph. I mean, it’s scary, but you’ve seen yourself; my client isn’t sparing any expense. I think I’ll be able to keep my ID hidden pretty well.”

“Yeah. I would say so. Well, that brings me to your retinas. Your ocular implants have synth skin retinas, but your old doc, the one who installed them, already programmed your original retina print into them. I went over this with your client when they called me, and they’ve sent some replacement retinas that will work with your current implants. I’ll still have to take them out and install the new ones, but the good news is, these will be programmable going forward; your PAI can change them in a matter of hours.”

“Okay . . .” Juliet trailed off, suddenly picturing herself with her eyeballs hanging out and Murph slicing into them. Again, she shuddered, then said, “Well, thanks, Murph. I suppose they could have gone with something cheaper, huh?”

“Exactly!” Murph smiled and slapped her hands together. “I love sticking it to suits. By the way, they approved my full rate for time and operating materials. I, of course, never mentioned your standing discount. That said, take whatever budget they gave you for the extra implant and double it.”

“They said fifty k. What should I have done?”

“Well, we could do a nanite swarm or a reflex job. We have to keep in mind your recovery time. The good nanite swarms are not considered invasive—they’re hardly ever rejected, and I don’t want to stick you with something cheap just to show those assholes that your body can handle it. That said, if you want to show off your adaptiveness to cybernetics, I think we should wire up your gun arm.”

“Wire it up?”

“Yeah, boost the reflexes and twitch action of the muscle fibers and tendons. I have an outstanding kit that retails for a hundred-twenty k. I’ve been sitting on it for months because the jackass who ordered it flaked. It has enhanced nerve fibers, a custom, high-capacity muscle weave, reinforced, low-voltage tendon boosters, and a built-in coprocessor that will manage everything flawlessly. Your arm will feel as good as ever but be faster than most full gear-jobs—just as strong, too.”

“That sounds cool . . .” Juliet tried to visualize everything the doctor had just said.

“More than that, Juliet, all those nano-wires, the coprocessor, and the batteries under your skin will mask this blood package; your arm will light up like a Christmas tree in a scanner.”

“It won’t twitch or anything weird, will it?”

“It shouldn’t, Juliet. I’ve seen for myself that you tolerate implants well, and I think this will work out perfectly for you. If it’s terrible, though, I’m not going to do anything that can’t be undone. What do you say?”

“I say let’s do it.” Juliet nodded, eyes narrowed in determination, and Murphy laughed, reaching up to rub her shoulder briskly.

“Relax, kiddo. Your face looks like I’m about to cut your head off and stick it on top of a robot body. Nothing terrible’s going to happen to you on my watch.”

“Thanks, Murph.”

“No worries. I owe you, Juliet. Let’s not forget I have a job I need you to do someday. Can’t very well do that if I get you killed with a bad cybernetic job, right?”

“Right,” Juliet laughed, though, despite Murphy’s words, she was very nervous indeed; the paper-fabric robe was soaked through at the armpits, and she knew her heart rate was elevated, thanks to Angel posting it in the corner of her AUI.

“Angel,” she subvocalized, “should I ask Murphy to put you in a dock so you can watch over me while I’m under?”

“I’m sorry, Juliet, but I should stay where I am. I’ll need to make connections to all of these implants. I have to set them up and ensure they aren’t loaded with malware, despite Paul’s assurances.”

“Right,” Juliet breathed, then looked at Murphy and nodded, “Let’s do it.”

“There’s one more thing, Juliet,” Murphy said, helping her to lay back on the white, cushioned surgical bed.

Her eyes on all the plasteel and stainless robotic arms, thankfully empty of implements, Juliet replied, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. The, uh, client specified that I have to remove your body hair. The scalp and hair package is complete with eyebrows, thank the lord, but the rest of you . . . they want me to laser you clean.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that a little overkill?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the one doing the operation, am I? What do you think? I mean, as much as I’d like to say otherwise, that process is not reversible. Not easily, anyway; we could always do synth follicles like bald guys get done.”

“I’m already giving up my real hair . . . and eyebrows!” Juliet scowled. “Whatever; go ahead, doc. No wonder you’re closing the office today. How long am I gonna be on this table?”

“Hours and hours, kiddo. Just lay back and let me send you to dreamland. It’ll feel like a couple of minutes to you.”

#

When Juliet opened her eyes, it took her a long time to figure out where she was. The lights were dim, soft, and orange-yellow, illuminating the peach-colored walls. A painting of a horse charging through a stream hung to her left, and on her right, she saw a closed door and a dresser. Her backpack, plump as ever, sat atop it. Searching her memory, she recalled sitting down with Doctor Murphy, and that’s when things fell into place.

Juliet didn’t remember falling asleep in the surgical suite; she didn’t even remember any dreams—just talking to Murph and then waking up in this soft, comfortable bed with a tube sticking out of her arm, leading away to a machine next to her bed that softly whirred and clicked. “Angel, what . . . what am I plugged into?”

“Juliet, I’m glad you’re awake. I didn’t want to speak too suddenly as anesthesia is known to cause disorientation, and I was worried my voice would startle you.”

“Okay. And this machine?”

“That machine is washing your blood, charging it with restorative nanites and nutrients, and sending it back into your body. You have another tube connected to your inner thigh, so please don’t move suddenly or attempt to stand up.”

Juliet lifted her right arm and winced. It was covered in gauzy bandages and ached in every joint when she moved it. “Did things go okay?”

“Doctor Murphy is pleased with the surgeries. I can vouch for the implants being functional; I’ve made connections with all of them. Juliet, after thoroughly evaluating your employers' custom implants, I’ve collectively ranked them at B-tier.”

“Oh, well, that’s a load off my mind.” Juliet was careful to add extra inflection to her sarcasm in case Angel might miss it.

“Additionally, Dr. Murphy was underselling the arm augmentation she performed. After I completed a handshake with the coprocessor, I evaluated it and compared it to similar retail products. It’s another B-tier augment. Juliet, your decision to accept this assignment has already improved your standing compared to your peers!”

“Oh, God, Angel. This is too much right now. I feel numb all over. Am I on drugs?”

“Oh yes. Doctor Murphy was sure to inform me that a general pain blocker is being added to your blood treatment.”

“How long?” Juliet groaned; her mouth felt like it was made of cotton. “Is there some water or something?”

“How long have you been sleeping? Nine hours post-surgery, which lasted for twelve. Doctor Murphy doesn’t want you to eat or drink until she’s seen you. I’ve alerted her PAI that you’re awake.”

“Ungh,” Juliet grunted, shifting in an attempt to get more comfortable. She reached up with her bandaged arm—the only one without a tube sticking out of it—and plumped up her pillow, wincing at the pain in her elbow joint. “This arm sure as hell doesn’t feel any stronger or faster.”

“Oh, it’s set to inactive right now, Juliet. We wouldn’t want you to cause any damage to the partially healed tissues. While we wait for the doctor, would you like to see your new status?”

“Not really . . .” Juliet started to say, but Angel hadn’t waited for an answer; a blinking window appeared in her AUI, and she sighed, settling back into the pillow to look at it. What else was she going to do while she waited, after all?