The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 8

A faint glimmer escapes the end of the metalized hand, and a ring of pale yellow light surrounds it, which exposes the circuitry lining the hollow hand, which can not be concealed nor shrouded. A few citizens must have witnessed the whole ordeal as well because they emerge from inside the shops with their attention drawn to the hand. The hand starts sputtering and sparks flying out from it sporadically, bringing even more attention to the small family. Unsurprisingly, the combination of colorful light, unfamiliar sounds, and unsettling silences cause the few passers-by to stop and glare. Soon a chorus of whispers, profane slurs, and cries flood the once lulled street, and in moments a small cluster of humans begin to surround the mother and child.

An innate instinct overcomes me, and once again, I impulsively react, and without a second thought, I find myself sprinting over to aid them. My legs are extending into long strides, my arms pumping at my side to give me more momentum; I manage to cross the street in seconds. I pry my way through the masses of bystanders until I break into the center of the circle that has encapsulated the family. I approach the young girl timidly and strip myself of my coat.

"It's going to be okay," I whisper.

Carefully, I wrap my coat around her petite frame, then pull her into my chest, masking the girl's body with my own and lift her in my arms. The hand still rests untouched by others, and I tilt my head to get a better angle as to what the inside of it looks like. Inside there appears to be a malleable circuit board that is a dark, murky green color with wires webbed along the inside resembling blood veins. The way they crossed over one another, connecting at some points, and then detaching themselves to be latched onto another. It is almost as beautiful as the intricate systems of the human body. Almost.

Upon further inspection, there seem to be exposed wires that have torn off and now begin to fire small heated embers into the air, followed by a high ringing hiss that starts to escape from the interior of the hand.

Precariously, I bend down, and with the sleeves of my shirt, pick up the hand and tuck it between my chest and the girl. It's burning hot, and I can see a bloom of smoke start to rise between us. Frantically I search for a place to store the hand and to my surprise the mother has her hands open for me. I hesitantly drop the hand into hers and then give a reassuring nod before weaving my way through the hoard of onlookers. I can hear all of the obscene and horrific utterances that cloud the air and my lungs tighten as another word leaves someone's lips. Words such as:

"Freak"

"Inhuman"

"Cyborg, half breed."

"Disgraceful"

"Limited"

They begin to numb my brain, constrict my lungs, weigh my legs down, chain my body to the sidewalk. A tiny shudder captures my attention; I cast my gaze downward towards the child in my arms and notice her one hand covering her ear as she sobs into my chest. Never have I never heard such pain be encapsulated in a single cry. I hesitantly cup my hand around the girl's exposed ear and draw her head closer to me in a meager attempt to muffle the ludicrous and brash words. I shove past everyone that came to witness such an event, and I keep repeating, "It's okay" out loud to the child. I repeat this mantra over and over again, not so much for her own reassurance but for my own. In all honesty, I don't know if this will be okay, but if I tell myself enough times, maybe it will be.

About two minutes later, maybe less, I am standing in the lobby area, still clutching the child in my arms. Unable to fully comprehend what happened as my mind keeps sputtering while everything is being absorbed all at once. Memories scatter and fracture; I can not connect them to form a single cohesive thought. They keep glitching; moments appear then disappear, sounds distort, old memories mix with new ones. I need to focus on something else. I need to ground myself, to turn my attention away from my thoughts onto something else. My attention shifts from myself to the fragile bundle I am cradling.

"Are you okay?-" I question with a monotone expression laced with tints of worry.

No response.

"Are you okay?" I repeat and angle the girl so I can see her face. Her once electric blue eyes were now a dull grey, her cheeks rosy and chapped, and there are incoherent squeaks that tumble out of her mouth that catch in my ears. All of a sudden, a deep ache blossoms in my chest, and I am unable to breathe; tears begin to accumulate at the rim of my eyelids, my whole body yearns to be compressed, to feel pressure across my skin. There is so much emotional pain, I have never experienced this before; this sense of agony, coupled with the helplessness that can not be verbally described but only felt. I am baffled, and at this point already so mentally and physically exhausted, I almost drop the child when my arms go limp, and my muscles give way slightly. Thankfully, the mother arrives just as I am about to collapse, and with panic plastered to her face, she lets out a deep sigh of relief upon seeing me with her daughter.

No words are exchanged as I shove the girl in her mother's open outreached arms and the mother takes my coat, which slung loosely on the daughter's shoulders, and hands it back to me. I wrap the jacket around myself again and take in a steady breath, which helps as I regain my composure ever so slightly. I attempt to make eye contact with the woman but stares right past me. Instead, I analyze the mother's anxious facial expression and notice how her body is tense and the way she runs her fingers clumsily through the strawberry locks of the child's hair.

"Thank you," her voice is no longer cheerful but hollow. Stripped away from its soft light tones and replaced with mellow and disheartening dissonances. She begins to walk away, but I raise my hand to catch her attention.

"I can fix the hand," I call out.

That stops her, and she stares down at the ground with her back still facing me.

"No thank you-"

It is all I hear before she disappears up the stairs.