Upon These Wings

Recovery

I was alone in the room for the first time in what felt like years. I knew that couldn't be the case; there was no way they would have been able to keep up constant surgery - torture? - that long. Every time I would pass out, they stopped and waited until they could wake me up and get me to focus. Every time I threw up they waited until the heaving was done and Jada cleaned up the splattered sick while the doctors made sure the instruments were still sanitary. They'd given me some sort of paralytic that didn't dull my senses but kept my muscles from moving so my automatic reactions didn't cause them to miss whatever they were aiming for.

It was like they were trying to make me suffer as much as possible for as long as possible.

Thirty-six hours. That's what Dr. Gibson said once they finished. They had all the logs done, all the paperwork signed, all the cutting and burning and shifting things that were never meant to be touched completed. They had to leave most of it open to make sure it started healing correctly, so there was still a damp towel packed with antiseptics draped over me, as well as a warm blanket to cover my newest appendages.

They'd put pumps in place to push my blood into them and had a transfusion going to fill the extra veins the wings created. It turned out it was my own blood too; they'd taken it from the donation hospital a week prior just for this purpose.

Which meant they'd been planning to take me for some time. Dr. Gibson confirmed this by explaining they'd constructed the wings with my own tissue, grown from a sample of my gametes - whatever those were - obtained during a biopsy I'd had almost two years ago when we'd thought I might have ovarian cancer. Turns out I didn't.

They wouldn't tell me how they got these things. They also wouldn't tell me why me.

I was left to cry by myself. Everything hurt, but the ache in my arms and legs was nearly drowned by the searing of my entire back and the foreign burning of the two very large feathered wings now sprouting from my back and draped over padded stands to either side of me. I could tell they were stretched out, and if I focused I could move them a little, but the blankets were too heavy and the pain in my freshly spliced muscles too great. They also tingled painfully, like when your foot falls asleep.

They told me not to move them for fear of reopening the sealed wounds anyway.

It wasn't long before Jada appeared, carrying a large tray. She wheeled the chair over in front of me and offered me soup. I still felt sick to my stomach, but I didn't know when I'd eaten last so I accepted. She offered to either spoon it for me or allow me to sip through a straw. It was basic chicken noodle soup so the important parts wouldn't get through the straw, so despite how humiliating it was, I allowed her to feed me. I didn't have any dignity left anyway.

"Why are you here?" I asked between bites, starting to feel a little better. The soup helped warm me better than the blankets and soothed my sore throat.

Her brow furrowed. "I'm... I'm here to feed you...?" she offered another spoonful.

I meant to shake my head, but it merely wiggled a little in hits hold so I had to swallow. "No, I mean here. In this place. Doing things like this."

Her mouth formed a little 'o' as she fed me again. "I'm a student," she explained. "I got an internship with the Sedai Corporation, and thanks to my grades they sent me here. There was a lot of paperwork to sign and I have to live on site until I graduate, but it's the coolest project I've worked on! They've even offered me a permanent position here once I graduate."

I stared at her and her already dark cheeks darkened further. She had the decency to look abashed. "I'm sorry, I know this sucks for you. If you could understand the science behind it... If this works, we could cure things like cancer or aids, or genetic diseases like sickle cell and diabetes. We could make the human race immune! We could change everything."