The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 3

I wouldn't ever tell anyone this, as it would seem out of character. Still, I always found that the younger ones shine the brightest and watching them dim so young, feeling their energy drain away into nothingness, it did make me experience a tinge of remorse. Granted, I have seen kids come and go, none my own patients of course, but I have witnessed some of my colleagues patients die who were kids. It is very tragic to endure, but it happens. "Every star that falls must return home" that's what we tell the parents to help them process this unfortunate event.
I found myself about to say those exact words to the parents; I could see the names swirl in my head, and they pressed themselves against my lips, but I couldn't get myself to say them. Apart from I wanted to, but at the same time, something was holding me back. An emotion I could understand nor tolerate started brewing within me. It felt wrong... twisted even. I felt it in my chest, this unsettling disruption, but as it traveled throughout my body, all I wanted to do was hug myself.
Instead, I told them something that I had never dreamed of or thought of saying. "I can save her, but the techniques used will be through the xiolytic techniques." I listened to the words as their presence echoed in my ears and then settled within the parents thoughts. The father this time spoke, his eyes so filled with sorrow and pain. When he lifted his chin to expose his face in clear view, I saw a man who was not whole anymore, but shattered and fragmented in distorted proportions. "Please" is all he was able to murmur before burying his face in the crook of his wife's neck. The wife simply nodded in agreement, already not wanting to speak more than necessary. I glanced over my shoulder, and my eyes couldn't fixate on anything until they were drawn to the puddle of dark maroon liquid gathering on the floor. I have only read about these practices, never have I ever done them before, but I knew that this needed to be done. I needed to take back the time I lost.
***
There was a sense of urgency and fierceness that ignited itself within me. An overwhelming desire to make this work, to have this not be the one patient I lost, to succeed and not fail. I have never failed anything in my life, and I certainly don't want to start today. I began digging into my memories and what I recalled from my past courses. There were so many of them and all the material I have learned was filed away in my memories. I think back to all my computer science classes, some physiology classes, anatomy classes, I drew upon extensive and random bits of knowledge I had and after a few moments of deep thoughts; I knew exactly what to do. I knew what steps to take for each procedure, what to account for with the risks, and I knew that my job will be compromised as this was very illegal, but a life for a life. I spun around on my heels, the sounds of plastic and slick flooring creating a piercing squeak followed by a shuffle of clothing. I gave the nurse a flattened expression and mouthed- "Code silver."
Code silver has only ever been used in this hospital two times, but each time the patient was saved. Unfortunately, though the doctors were fired immediately after, and to be completely honest, I don't recall where they ended up. Some say they were sent to prison, others say they went mad and ended up in the psych ward, and then there were a few who claimed they simply took their own lives. The fear and shame being too much for them. I remember hearing these facts and thinking how idiotic they were. We all knew the laws, we all knew the consequences, the notion of someone risking everything to save a life that would end up ending anyways sounded absurd to me. I was oblivious and keenly unaware of how arrogant, self-absorbed, and oppressive with apathy I was towards another. It wasn't until this particular case happened that I realized just how precious life was to another, and how important it is to save a life even if it goes against everything I believed in.
***
My memories about the operations were fragmented, sporadic, and glitchy, and there were moments where I didn't know what I was doing, but somehow my hands guided me. It was another instance where I was watching myself from outside of my body. Every so often my perspective would switch and I was seeing my actions through my own eyes but then when that became too comfortable, I would switch again. The instances where I was seeing through my eyes involved the observation of wires with varying sizes, shapes, colors, all being tethered and sewn within the body. Then there was a moment where we brought in numerous circuit boards and a futuristic robotic hand. The most vivid memory of that operation was seeing this minuscule metallic hand being laid out in front of me. There was a shell casing that had dainty opaque fingernails with the girls flesh-colored tones for the skin. The joints were hinged at the fingers, giving them a slight curl, and when I pressed against them to spread them out, they would retract back into a coil as fingers would. Then when I pressed my forefinger and middle finger against the wrist, there was a slight pulse, but oddly enough, it wasn't warm. The hand gave off no heat, but instead, it felt very cool to the touch. I picked it up and turned it around to look inside. The web-like wires branched out across the interior of the hand, with blue wires connecting to the dark black-green circuit boards, the red cables connected to flashing white dots which flashed periodically, and the yellow wires lined the luminescent walls and resembled veins. The pulse I felt matched the rate in which various lights traveled up and down the and, from fingertip to the wrist and back again.
A tension began to form and thicken within the operating room when the hand came out, and everyone held their breath as I moved the hand from the tray to place it next to the body on the table. Not an organic sound was being made, only the echoes of beeping from the various machines were present. I hesitantly reached out and picked up a screwdriver with my left hand and a scalpel in my right. "Okay. Let's begin."

***
The whole surgery took over sixteen hours, and during that time, I managed to switch between stitching her lacerations to rewiring various circuits and coding specific functions on a tablet that would be suitable for a child her age. As a result of the successful surgery, she will be able to regain complete mobility, her spine now lined with silver metallic segmentations with numerous rainbow-colored cables have been connected to her brain stem to the nerves in her spine to replace the damaged spinal cord and broken vertebrates. The bones that were once thought to be broken beyond repair were now perfectly straight and even more durable as they were lined with titanium alloys. The hand that was once severed and caused sepsis was now completely gone and replaced by a new robotic one. From the outside, the young girl appeared to be perfect. She would have a few scars, but no one would ever know she was now partially mechanical. Even though this young girl had five seconds taken away from her, she was given 500,000,000 seconds back.
***
After the operation finished, I had to inform the parents as to what the recovery process would be like, how they would need to take care of their daughters' added needs, and how they would need to act to keep this hidden. But I was so mentally and physically exhausted. Not long after the operation completed, the adrenaline wore off, and now my whole body ached. I could have asked an assistant to do it, but once again, I felt this odd underlying need to be the person who tells the parents.
As I approached them, I could tell they, too, were exhausted. Each shared dark black and purple circles under their eyes, and their bodies seemed to be so frail that if someone were to tap them simply, they would crumble. I trudged over with caution, my legs felt like they were being weighed down with cement, and when I was close enough, I kept my eyes glued to their eyebrows. I couldn't stand looking at them directly in the eyes, not yet at least.
"I managed to save your daughter" was the first thing that I whispered. My voice was airy, deep, laced with concern, and worry.
I watched as a blanket of calm covered the couple, and they both sighed in disbelief. But before they could start asking questions, I pressed my pointer finger to my lips. My cautious eyes scanned the room, and I nodded with my head in the direction of the PICU. I led them through a maze of linoleum covered hallways with white fluorescent lights hanging on the ceiling until we got to their daughter's room. I opened the door for the couple, and as soon as they got in, I quickly locked it behind us and shut the blinds.
Never have I ever seen so much care or worry expressed by parents when they saw their child lying in the hospital bed. Most of the time, the parents simply acknowledge what has happened, ask what the next steps are, comfort the child if needed, but that's it. There were no tears, no over-expressed facial expressions, only a blank stare. Every so often, a loved one would shed a tear but never to the extent of the parents that stood before me.
Their eyes said it all. They encapsulated every emotional imaginable; fear, love, grief, worry, joy, anger. Every emotion was embedded within the rings of their irises and danced in the glistening tears that slid down their cheeks, and engrained within every shaken breath they took.
I finally break the silence and lean closer to the parents so my mumbles can be heard. "Your daughter sustained numerous injuries due to the accident; we had to rebuild her spine, replace bones, and replace her hand."
The father, grief-stricken, peered over at his daughter with horror, his mouth gaped open slightly, and the hair on the back of his neck seemed to be sticking straight up.
"So, what does this mean?" he asked in a sullen tone, his hand reaching for the back of his head.
I grimaced at his tone and sighed to myself-"She will likely hit all her developmental milestones like the rest of the children. She is programmed in such a way that her explanations will grow along with her in an organic manner. She will appear to be a healthy young girl..." I knew I needed to mention the next part, but I didn't want to. I wished I could've withheld information, but that goes against the code of conduct. Not like I was following any sorts of rules anymore, but this was one moral obligation, I felt needed to be complete.
In a dull and monotone voice, I simply stated-"She will never be able to love another to the same extent that you or I could"
That was when the mother popped her head up and glared at her daughter with the same eyes as her husband. Yet... they were searching for something. I tracked them as they darted from her daughter to the machines keeping her alive, to the IV's in her arm. When they landed on the girl's hand, her mother became stiff, and I thought she might've turned to stone. She was so still.
Her mother then followed with-"She may not be able to feel it, but I will never stop loving her."
The mother's words were interrupted when a loud scuffle of shoes and ominous voices began to grow near.
"You must keep her secret," I quickly say as the sound of rushed footsteps began to get closer.
"She can pass as human since most of her repairs are internal, but her hand could be exposed. Make sure you are aware of the delicate nature of it. I will have a nurse give you further instructions; I did all I could, I'm-"
My words were cut short by the door slamming into my back, and the wind was knocked out of me, then as if I was in a stop motion film, I saw myself frame by frame fall to the ground up until my head collided with the floor. Then everything went black, and the last thing I heard was a crack, a scream, and a faint cry for help.