you of that," Ben said, "when you turn paranormal with the superhuman ability to shrink your penis."
"Couldn’t happen," Carl offered. "Can’t shrink it much more than it already is ."
Carl and Ben laughed as Deak fumed. "Whatever." Then his attention honestly shifted elsewhere. "What’s that sound?"
They all held off the chatter long enough to listen. Sure enough, an odd squeaking noise was bouncing through the small kitchen.
"Linc? You know what that is?"
Lincoln started to tell them that he did not when his eyes drifted down ... then nearly bugged out of his head.
He was crushing his large stainless steel pot in his bare hands!
The act itself wouldn’t be particularly stunning anymore, except that he’d had no idea at all that he was doing it. He quickly eased the pressure and shrugged as casually as he could manage.
"It’s nothing," he said over his shoulder, afraid to let them see his face. "The water pipes do it from time to time. See? It’s already gone."
Carl and Deak accepted that at face value and dismissed it. Ben continued to stare at his young friend’s tense shoulders for a moment longer, then he, too, let it go.
"Hey, Deak, are you sure that Acuna went paranormal and didn’t just buy a toupe or somethin’?"
"Shut up, Carl."
Why? Lincoln thought as he stared down at the crushed pot in his traitorous hands. Why did this have to happen to me ?
The pot offered no answer.
Lincoln slipped it underneath the sink, then forced a nonchalant expression onto his face and returned to the table.
VORTEX
Steve underwent surgery for his initial implants later that week. Alan made sure that every staff member involved in the procedure signed contracts of confidentiality, and the core team of "surgeons" mainly consisted of bio-technicians from Davison Electronics ’ cybernetics division — Steve’s optical nerves were in relatively good shape and his visual cortex was completely unscathed, so the procedure’s purely medical demands where not as precipitous as they could have been.
Even so, Alan saw to it that only a trusted few knew the patient’s name.
Steve then spent the next week in recovery, with a full compliment of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories. In that time, his mechanical eyes remained covered, inert . He roused every morning with the same anxieties: What if they didn’t work? Was he to reach so high, only to stay blind? Alan was risking it all in order to keep things quiet, to give him privacy until he presented himself to the PCA. Could he handle the responsibility he was taking on? How could he, when he hadn’t even let himself feel the true pain of his loss yet?
To his credit, Alan spent at least an hour with Steve every single day. The two of them talked about whatever crossed Steve’s mind, and Alan soon became a comforting voice in the darkness. He never pressured Steve to talk about his feelings, but Steve knew that he could if he so desired. He just ... wasn’t ready.
PCA
A click , a beep , and a ticklish whirl behind Steve’s temples, and Alan pulled the device — whatever it was — away from the bridge of his nose. "All right, Steve," he whispered, "open your eyes."
NO I can’t I can’t open my eyes if I open my eyes and I’m BLIND I don’t know what I’ll do I don’t want to be blind
Slowly ... very slowly ... Steve opened his eyes. At first his breath caught and his heart stopped at the confused, blurred images, but before the panic set in, his vision snapped into focus.
"Weird," he whispered.
"I’m sorry?"
Steve turned to him. It felt strange to see Alan again — somehow, Steve had come to associate him with just his voice, like some sort of omnidirectional spirit. Hell, he’d even forgotten how much Alan looked like the actor Charles Grodin.
Steve stared at both Alan and the Davison bio-technician, absorbing
"Couldn’t happen," Carl offered. "Can’t shrink it much more than it already is ."
Carl and Ben laughed as Deak fumed. "Whatever." Then his attention honestly shifted elsewhere. "What’s that sound?"
They all held off the chatter long enough to listen. Sure enough, an odd squeaking noise was bouncing through the small kitchen.
"Linc? You know what that is?"
Lincoln started to tell them that he did not when his eyes drifted down ... then nearly bugged out of his head.
He was crushing his large stainless steel pot in his bare hands!
The act itself wouldn’t be particularly stunning anymore, except that he’d had no idea at all that he was doing it. He quickly eased the pressure and shrugged as casually as he could manage.
"It’s nothing," he said over his shoulder, afraid to let them see his face. "The water pipes do it from time to time. See? It’s already gone."
Carl and Deak accepted that at face value and dismissed it. Ben continued to stare at his young friend’s tense shoulders for a moment longer, then he, too, let it go.
"Hey, Deak, are you sure that Acuna went paranormal and didn’t just buy a toupe or somethin’?"
"Shut up, Carl."
Why? Lincoln thought as he stared down at the crushed pot in his traitorous hands. Why did this have to happen to me ?
The pot offered no answer.
Lincoln slipped it underneath the sink, then forced a nonchalant expression onto his face and returned to the table.
VORTEX
Steve underwent surgery for his initial implants later that week. Alan made sure that every staff member involved in the procedure signed contracts of confidentiality, and the core team of "surgeons" mainly consisted of bio-technicians from Davison Electronics ’ cybernetics division — Steve’s optical nerves were in relatively good shape and his visual cortex was completely unscathed, so the procedure’s purely medical demands where not as precipitous as they could have been.
Even so, Alan saw to it that only a trusted few knew the patient’s name.
Steve then spent the next week in recovery, with a full compliment of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories. In that time, his mechanical eyes remained covered, inert . He roused every morning with the same anxieties: What if they didn’t work? Was he to reach so high, only to stay blind? Alan was risking it all in order to keep things quiet, to give him privacy until he presented himself to the PCA. Could he handle the responsibility he was taking on? How could he, when he hadn’t even let himself feel the true pain of his loss yet?
To his credit, Alan spent at least an hour with Steve every single day. The two of them talked about whatever crossed Steve’s mind, and Alan soon became a comforting voice in the darkness. He never pressured Steve to talk about his feelings, but Steve knew that he could if he so desired. He just ... wasn’t ready.
PCA
A click , a beep , and a ticklish whirl behind Steve’s temples, and Alan pulled the device — whatever it was — away from the bridge of his nose. "All right, Steve," he whispered, "open your eyes."
NO I can’t I can’t open my eyes if I open my eyes and I’m BLIND I don’t know what I’ll do I don’t want to be blind
Slowly ... very slowly ... Steve opened his eyes. At first his breath caught and his heart stopped at the confused, blurred images, but before the panic set in, his vision snapped into focus.
"Weird," he whispered.
"I’m sorry?"
Steve turned to him. It felt strange to see Alan again — somehow, Steve had come to associate him with just his voice, like some sort of omnidirectional spirit. Hell, he’d even forgotten how much Alan looked like the actor Charles Grodin.
Steve stared at both Alan and the Davison bio-technician, absorbing
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