CD & EA 1.30 - Vulnerability

Good morning, Patrons!

Here's Juliet's next installment :)

-Plum

Juliet sat in a very comfortable waiting room, sipping sparkling, lime-flavored water and flipping through images on a paper-thin tablet. Doctor Murphy had shown her to the room and given her a splint that got icy cold when she put it on her wrist and an injection for the pain. After that, she’d handed Juliet the tablet, pointed to the fridge, and gone to, presumably, save the bangers that had nearly kidnapped her. Juliet stretched out her legs, the reclining, faux-leather white chair shifting to accommodate her, and smiled.

The idea that she’d been staring down the barrel of a cybernetic shotgun ten minutes ago, having just gone through a gun—and grenade—fight, seemed almost dreamlike to her. Had she made the right decision? Would it have been wiser to call someone for help, even corpo-sec? “Probably,” Juliet said, grinning, but she knew, in the moment, she’d done what felt right, and it had paid off. Murphy had promised her fifty percent off on her first implant and a twenty-percent discount going forward.

“Juliet, considering the doctor’s offer of a large discount on your first implant, it might be wise to choose something other than a new audio implant.”

“Well, I thought about that, but I don’t want the doc to think I’m being a greedy bitch. I mean, she didn’t have to throw that offer out there, and I hope she considered the possibility that I’d pick something expensive, but I didn’t save her for a reward; I don’t want her to think that’s what I’m like.”

“Perhaps, however . . .”

“Chill, Angel. I’ll talk to her about it, all right?” The PAI didn’t respond, and Juliet frowned. If it were Tig, she’d just let it go, but Angel seemed to have more personality than she was willing to admit—despite her protestations, she seemed very much like a synth to her, with emotions she couldn’t always control. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Angel.”

“I’m not offended, Juliet. I believe that you’ll follow through and ask the doctor.”

“There you go, proving me wrong again,” Juliet laughed, shaking her head. Sometimes it seemed her suspicions about Angel were simply projections. “What do you think about these audio implants? I like the Cork Systems Clarion. The, uh, model seven.”

“That’s a good choice, Juliet, but you could get the Lyric model from the same company for seven hundred more Sol-bits. It has a higher bit-rate and positional audio modeling based on the Geiger and Warren algorithms. It would make its combat functionality significantly better.”

“Oh, cool! Good eye, Angel!”

“Well, I’m using your eyes, but . . .”

“Was that a joke? You’re trying out joke material now? I love it, Angel!” Juliet laughed, then, shaking her head and grinning, she tabbed through the brochure to the medical nanite suites.

The most basic implant was a pod meant to be attached externally, usually on a person’s chest. It ran a shunt into an artery where the nanites stored in the pod could be deployed. They were guaranteed to provide oxygen to a person’s brain for an hour after “death.” The device was called a Hayashi Death Cheater and sold for seven thousand bits. “That’s kind of cheap to cheat death, don’t you think, Angel?”

“It will only allow you to cheat death if you have the ability to repair whatever damage made the deployment of the nanites necessary. If you, for instance, suffered traumatic organ damage but didn’t have the means to pay for necessary medical attention, you’d simply have a living brain for an extra hour.”

“Well, good point, but if I just bled out and only needed some stitches, it might pay off.”

“That’s true.”

Juliet grunted at the PAI’s concession and flipped through the pages of medical nanite products, wanting to see the most comprehensive item Murphy sold. When she came to the last page, she whistled at the price tag, “A quarter million bits?”

The brochure page showed a vague outline of a person’s internal organs with a stylized image of the WBD Lifesaver 3000 snugly implanted around the abdominal aorta. It was cylindrical and segmented and, in the brochure, at least, silvery and sleek. Juliet read through the features highlighted in bold, “Hundreds of billions of multi-purpose nanites, maintained and produced on demand by the implanted organ. Let’s see here,” she ran her finger down the page, “capable of delivering oxygen or nutrients, electric impulses to stimulate organ function . . .”

“Read about this; it’s the most important function,” Angel said, highlighting a paragraph Juliet had yet to read. When she read through the text, she learned that the organ held tissue-repairing nanites capable of closing off ruptured vessels and stitching flesh together at a microscopic level.

“‘Will stop even arterial bleeds in seconds, and even if the host suffers major blood loss, the other specialized nanites will convey oxygen as needed to vital organs.’ Wow,” Juliet said. “So this is the real deal, huh?”

“It’s a good product and the best in this brochure, but there are better,” Angel said, and then she sent some sat-net links for Juliet to peruse with products valued at more than a million bits, even one that had a twelve-million-bit price tag.

“Can you give me a summarized explanation for those price tags?” Juliet asked.

“Most offer functionality similar to this WBD product, but the more expensive variants have smarter nanobots, a more comprehensive bio-monitoring system, and much faster response times to trauma. The Yamaha Systems Grand Elixer maintains a battery of nanites seven times larger than the Lifesaver, and they will repair damaged tissue within seconds. Additionally, the higher-end products are known to repel viral and bacterial invasions much more readily without risk to the host’s tissue. Even the WBD that Dr. Murphy sells has a disclaimer that ‘some host tissue may be damaged in the event of a viral infection.’”

“Crazy,” Juliet said with a sigh, setting the brochure on the table next to her chair. Leaning her head back, she held her numb wrist against her chest and closed her eyes. She was a little drained from the massive adrenaline dump she’d gone through in the garage, but more than that, the constant thought of how her body might be damaged and repaired was starting to feel a little macabre. She felt her thoughts growing fuzzy and her mind drifting as her breathing steadied and she began to doze.

“Juliet,” Angel said, startling her awake, “steps are approaching.”

“Right,” Juliet said, stifling a yawn, inhaling deeply through her nose and sitting up, forcing the reclining chair back into an upright position. She rubbed at her eyes when the door opened, and Doctor Murphy came through, wearing a clean white coat and drying her hands on a paper towel that she threw in a bin next to the refreshment bar.

“Juliet! I’m all done with those two goons. I have them sedated and will deal with them and their boss in a while. Rest assured, if the subject of how they came to such dire straights arises, I’ll be glad to say the person who incapacitated them was a merc-synth in my employ.”

“Well, thanks, Doctor . . .”

“Murph! I told you; call me Murph.”

“Right, right. Thanks, Murph.”

“I’m the one that owes the thanks around here. Did you pick out what you want?” She gestured to the brochure.

“Yeah, I know what auditory implants I want, but I can’t afford the nanites yet.” Juliet shrugged and sat forward on the seat.

“Auditory implants aren’t that pricey. Let’s save your big discount for when you’re ready for the nanites, hmm? I’ll give you twenty percent off the new ears today, okay?”

“Seriously? If I bought the WBD nanites, that’s like a hundred k you’re giving me.”

Murphy stepped closer and sat on the coffee table in front of Juliet’s chair. She folded her hands, resting her elbows on her knees, and smiled, the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes growing dense. “Juliet, I was probably going to die today. If not, I was going to have a very nightmarish time. I am happy to transfer you a fat stack of bits right now if you’d rather never come back around here. However, I think it would be worth your while to accept my discounts—there are worlds of augmentation that you’ve barely begun to scratch! Do we understand each other?”

“Yeah, understood, doc, er, Murph.”

“Doc’s fine with me, too,” Murphy laughed and stood up. “Well? Which ears are we doing today?”

“The, um . . .” Juliet reached for the brochure, but then Angel displayed the name in her AUI, “The Cork Systems Lyric,” she paused then added, “model four. Are there other models?”

“Just older ones that I don’t sell. That’s a good set, Juliet; I can get ‘em installed in about twenty minutes. You wanna do it now?” Murphy’s no-nonsense attitude got another smile out of Juliet, and she leaned forward, nodding.

“You have time?”

“Yep! No clients until two. I had a lunch date, which is why I wanted to meet you at ten, but that’s off, thanks to those clowns.” She gestured over her shoulder, presumably indicating a room somewhere behind her where the two bangers were sleeping off their anesthesia. She saw Juliet’s brow crease and added, “Don’t worry! My date will reschedule. Trust me; I wear the pants in that relationship!”

“Well, sure, if you have time right now . . .”

“Yep, c’mon. I won’t even have to put you under for this. You have some implants now, right?”

“Uh, yeah—Golio Techs. I got ‘em when I was fourteen, so they’re pretty dated.”

“Oh really? Those old things are pretty simple, but they had good music reproduction, if I remember right. I could probably offload ‘em onto a banger. Let me keep ‘em, and I’ll knock three hundred off,” she said, opening the door and motioning for Juliet to pass in front of her into a sterile-looking white hallway. “So, let’s see, eighteen k for the new ones, minus twenty percent . . .” She paused as Juliet walked through and started down the hall. “That’s fourteen point four, minus the three hundred for your old ones. We’ll call it fourteen k. Sound fair, Juliet? Take the door on your left.”

“Juliet, those implants retail for fifteen thousand. The doctor is giving you a good deal, considering her surgery expenses,” Angel said as Juliet opened her mouth to reply.

“That sounds very fair. Thank you, Murph,” she opened the door, revealing a small, white room with a chair that reminded her very much of a dentist’s or a walk-in “chop shop,” as people called the implant clinics where cheap, simple augmentations were often performed.

It was the same sort of chair she’d sat in at a much younger age to get her old retinal implants installed. The memory of that occasion rushed into her mind, and she smiled, remembering how Fee had been so excited for her to finally get an AUI; she’d been the last one in their little friend group, the last one among her cousins as well, to get one.

“Take a seat, Juliet,” Murphy said, and Juliet complied. The chair squeaked while she scooted back on the cushion, and then Murphy said, “I’ll be back in a minute. Need to dig up the implants and the materials to install them and fix your wrist. Just relax.” Then she stepped out, and Juliet sat alone, and suddenly she started to feel some strange anxiety. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and far too at the mercy of a stranger.

“Angel, is there a jammer or anything active?”

“No, I have full access to the sat-net.”

“Are you picking up any chatter or anything that might indicate we’re about to be double-crossed?”

“Nothing that I can detect. Is there something wrong, Juliet?”

“Just a feeling, Angel. I feel like a sitting duck right now,” Juliet’s palms started to perspire, and she began to bounce one leg up and down on the ball of her foot, looking around the room for any indication that something was wrong. “Fuck this, I’m getting outta here,” she said, and then the door opened, and Doctor Murphey pushed a stainless steel cart into the room, laden with materials.

“Everything all right?” she asked, seeing Juliet on the edge of her seat and perhaps noticing the stress behind her eyes.

“I, uh, was just going to find a bathroom—thought you would take longer.”

“Right down the hallway. Turn left at the corner, and the bathroom is the first door on the right. I’ll get things set up.”

“Right, thanks,” Juliet said, stepping past the tray holding the packaged implants and the little tools Murphy would need to install them. When she stood alone in the hallway, she looked left, where the bathrooms presumably would be, and right, where she knew the elevator waited. “Should I bail, Angel?”

“I don’t see any indication that Murphy has double-crossed you, Juliet. I don’t share your feelings, though, so if there’s something I don’t understand, you should act on it.”

“I . . .” Juliet stood there for a long minute, thinking of what to say and forcing herself to breathe deep, slow breaths. She could hear the doctor through the door unwrapping packaging and setting things on the tray with metallic, scraping clicks. Finally, she turned to the left and went to the bathroom. As the door swung shut behind her, she subvocalized, “Crank the gain on my audio implants. Do you hear anything at all?”

Suddenly the sounds of water in the pipes, the air wooshing through the vents, the weird ticking sounds all buildings made as they shifted in the wind and heat, and her own breathing filled her ears. She sat quietly, waiting for Angel to say something, but finally gave in and, before she flushed, said, “Turn it back down.”

“I didn’t hear anything unusual, Juliet,” Angel said as Juliet washed her left hand and then gingerly rinsed the purple fingertips of her splinted hand. It was still numb and didn’t hurt, but it looked awful.

“I’m just being paranoid, I think. This life, the people and corpos, it’s all getting to me.”

“You had a traumatic experience in the parking garage, Juliet. A day or two off will do you good.”

Juliet laughed at the PAI’s tone—she sounded like a badly written shrink on a teen VR serial. As she finished rinsing her hands, Juliet looked into the mirror and saw that her face was streaked with smudges of something dark, like ash or soot. She figured she’d picked it up during the firefight in the garage. Her eyes were bloodshot and felt gritty, probably with concrete dust, so she leaned over the sink and splashed water on her face, cupping it in her left hand so she could gently rinse out her eyes.

“Angel?” she asked as she watched the water drip down her cheeks. “Are my eyes supposed to get bloodshot? The new implants?”

“Yes, like most cybernetic organs, they are tied into your blood supply, and the tiny vessels in the synth-flesh sclera serve to provide oxygen. They can become inflamed from trauma just as natural eyes can. Don’t worry; they’ll recover rapidly.”

With her face clean and feeling somewhat better overall, more relaxed, she walked back to the room with the operating chair, trying to breathe deep, steady breaths. Had she worked herself into a panic attack? Was it time to stop trusting her gut, or did she just need a day or two to recover and find her balance? She opened the door to see Murphy leaning against the little counter next to the chair, talking animatedly with someone in her AUI.

“No! Not a chance! If she needs it that bad, she’s going to have to come here. You made a very big fucking mistake trying to force this issue! If you thought my services were expensive before, wait until you see my bill for today’s little fiasco!” She looked at Juliet, winked, and then said, “Now I have a client. Don’t bother calling me back; I’ll contact you when I’m ready.” She made a gesture similar to what Juliet did to tell her PAI to cut the call and then laughed.

“Was that the guy who sent those bangers?”

“It sure was, and he’s squirming! Oh, I’m going to make him pay for this. Thank you again, Juliet!” She gestured to the seat, and Juliet stepped over and sat down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and slowly released it, and Murphy looked at her with a smile. “Nervous? Not everyone handles surgery, even easy procedures like this, easily.” She moved behind Juliet and began putting prefabbed, concave gauze materials around her ears with little elastic bands.

“Yeah, I’m nervous,” Juliet said.

“Lots of people feel that way, especially operators and bangers. Heck, even corpo-sec. I think it’s the lifestyle; it breeds paranoia and a healthy dislike for vulnerability.” She picked up an auto-injector and continued, “You’re quite vulnerable here in the office while I’m working on you. It’s not a good feeling for someone who needs to be on their toes all the time, right? This shot will just numb up the nerves around your ears.”

Juliet inhaled again as she felt the needle sink into the flesh under her ear. The injector hissed, and then she felt it—more dimly—again four more times as the doctor circled her ear with more injections. “That’s one done; might as well do the other,” she said, moving around Juliet to repeat the process.

“Doc,” Juliet said, her voice sounding funny in her numb ears, “You wouldn’t fuck me over, would you?”

“I’d have to be a real sadist to talk about how hard it was for people to trust a chop doc while I was in the midst of betraying you, wouldn’t I?” Murphy laughed gently and then said, “Juliet, relax. Reach your uninjured hand over to your pistol and pull it out.” She sat back on her stool, giving Juliet room to act.

“All right,” Juliet said, reaching with her left hand and awkwardly working the Taipan free of its holster, holding it on her lap, barrel pointed to the doctor’s left.

“There! Don’t you feel better? Do you think I’d let you hold that little cannon if I were going to do something to betray you? Can you feel that?” she asked, reaching forward to flick lightly at Juliet’s right ear.

“No,” Juliet said.

“Great! Okay, if I were you, I’d have my PAI play me a video of kittens playing or something; you don’t want to see me cut out your old implants and install the new ones. I’ll try to be quick, but I pride myself on a job well done. I’d say give me fifteen minutes!” She chuckled, picked up a scalpel and needle-nosed plier, and rolled her stool over to Juliet’s right side.