tubing that perfectly matched and mimicked his own arteries and veins.
Removing Whispr’s choice from a container of synthetic tendons (he had opted for a set of affordable midrange models grown in Africa), emplacers set them against bone, stretched them to their proper length, and sealed them enduringly in place alongside the patient’s already somewhat worn natural integuments. Informed by sensors that both of the customer’s knees were exhibiting the first signs of bursitis but were otherwise in good condition, Chaukutri had made the decision on his own to have them cleaned and upgraded. He felt that while Whispr would not accede to the cost of full replacement, he would grudgingly pay for a necessary refurbishment.
As soon as the legwork had been completed and closed up and after a routine check of the patient’s vitals, the machines moved on to the last of the programmed melds.
While Whispr’s body cavity was cracked, flexible transparent sheeting was installed to protect his exposed organs. As he floated in the hover field everything from his serpentine intestines to his dark liver and beating heart were exposed. Bone was added to the existing skeleton to support the additional tissue to come. Adding just the right blend of muscle and fat, a pair of protein chuggers layered bulk onto the body. New cells immediately began to draw nourishment alongside the old. Obligatory additional nerves were inserted simultaneously with the extra flesh, giving the result the look of dark red silk shot through with strands of tarnished silver.
Supplementary synthskin filled in the gaps and bound together the separated halves of Whispr’s split epidermis. After taking a shade and tone reading a final cosmetic touch was supplied by a sprayer that permanently matched the color of the new skin to the old.
Half an hour later Whispr was sitting up and strong enough to argue over the bill. Like the majority of basic, straightforward melds, the manipulationshe had just undergone did not require hospitalization. They did, however, itch. From experience he knew not to scratch at the skin seams. Cupping a handful of Ms. Chaukutri’s freshly baked garlic naan he scooped at the beans and lamb the biosurge had laid out for him in the vehicle’s compact commercial kitchen. As it was now late, the serving area was closed. No one could see in through the one-way window.
Chaukutri joined him in dining. Not to scrutinize his progress but because the effort of monitoring the melding had left him as hungry as his patient.
“Since you ask for my advice …,” he began.
Whispr spoke between mouthfuls. “I haven’t.”
“Since you ask for my advice,” Chaukutri repeated more forcefully, “I am telling you now. As a friend who would not sell you out to the authorities for anything less than a couple hundred thousand—get out of town. Leave Savannah. In fact, leave Namerica. Go as far away as you can manage.” His tone turned wistful. “Try Mumbai, it’s not a lie. Or Dar-es. Djakarta, Guangzhou, Sagramanda—anyplace big where you can lose yourself.”
His patient replied sorrowfully. “I don’t know any of those places, ’Cuda. I’m not a man of the world like you. I was born here. This part of Namerica is my home. If I were to do as you say, then I really would lose myself.”
The melder sighed and sipped at his yogurt. “I am telling you, the word is out for you. Strong word.”
Whispr set his empty plate aside and smiled. Chaukutri did good work and the expression did not hurt his customer’s maniped face. “Thanks to your efforts they’ll have a tough time trying to ident me now.”
Chaukutri looked away and shrugged, but Whispr could see that he was pleased. “A little nip here, a tuck there, some new add-ons. Basic bone ladling, most of it. You should have gone more radical, Whispr. I could have put fifty kilos on you from top to bottom.
That
would have done it. Made you simultaneously bigger and more
Removing Whispr’s choice from a container of synthetic tendons (he had opted for a set of affordable midrange models grown in Africa), emplacers set them against bone, stretched them to their proper length, and sealed them enduringly in place alongside the patient’s already somewhat worn natural integuments. Informed by sensors that both of the customer’s knees were exhibiting the first signs of bursitis but were otherwise in good condition, Chaukutri had made the decision on his own to have them cleaned and upgraded. He felt that while Whispr would not accede to the cost of full replacement, he would grudgingly pay for a necessary refurbishment.
As soon as the legwork had been completed and closed up and after a routine check of the patient’s vitals, the machines moved on to the last of the programmed melds.
While Whispr’s body cavity was cracked, flexible transparent sheeting was installed to protect his exposed organs. As he floated in the hover field everything from his serpentine intestines to his dark liver and beating heart were exposed. Bone was added to the existing skeleton to support the additional tissue to come. Adding just the right blend of muscle and fat, a pair of protein chuggers layered bulk onto the body. New cells immediately began to draw nourishment alongside the old. Obligatory additional nerves were inserted simultaneously with the extra flesh, giving the result the look of dark red silk shot through with strands of tarnished silver.
Supplementary synthskin filled in the gaps and bound together the separated halves of Whispr’s split epidermis. After taking a shade and tone reading a final cosmetic touch was supplied by a sprayer that permanently matched the color of the new skin to the old.
Half an hour later Whispr was sitting up and strong enough to argue over the bill. Like the majority of basic, straightforward melds, the manipulationshe had just undergone did not require hospitalization. They did, however, itch. From experience he knew not to scratch at the skin seams. Cupping a handful of Ms. Chaukutri’s freshly baked garlic naan he scooped at the beans and lamb the biosurge had laid out for him in the vehicle’s compact commercial kitchen. As it was now late, the serving area was closed. No one could see in through the one-way window.
Chaukutri joined him in dining. Not to scrutinize his progress but because the effort of monitoring the melding had left him as hungry as his patient.
“Since you ask for my advice …,” he began.
Whispr spoke between mouthfuls. “I haven’t.”
“Since you ask for my advice,” Chaukutri repeated more forcefully, “I am telling you now. As a friend who would not sell you out to the authorities for anything less than a couple hundred thousand—get out of town. Leave Savannah. In fact, leave Namerica. Go as far away as you can manage.” His tone turned wistful. “Try Mumbai, it’s not a lie. Or Dar-es. Djakarta, Guangzhou, Sagramanda—anyplace big where you can lose yourself.”
His patient replied sorrowfully. “I don’t know any of those places, ’Cuda. I’m not a man of the world like you. I was born here. This part of Namerica is my home. If I were to do as you say, then I really would lose myself.”
The melder sighed and sipped at his yogurt. “I am telling you, the word is out for you. Strong word.”
Whispr set his empty plate aside and smiled. Chaukutri did good work and the expression did not hurt his customer’s maniped face. “Thanks to your efforts they’ll have a tough time trying to ident me now.”
Chaukutri looked away and shrugged, but Whispr could see that he was pleased. “A little nip here, a tuck there, some new add-ons. Basic bone ladling, most of it. You should have gone more radical, Whispr. I could have put fifty kilos on you from top to bottom.
That
would have done it. Made you simultaneously bigger and more
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