Prototype Dorian

6.

I quite like it, actually.

With a small sigh, I slip my earpieces back on. Rea's robotic voice floods into me as it instructs me to leave the medical area for the safety of any immunocompromised patients. I sigh again. I'm already going to do that anyway.

But my steps halt when I walk by another examination room. The patient inside is sitting up on the hospital bed, back hunched, head hung.

It's Sánchez.

I've never seen them with a posture like that. They look more than exhausted. They look... defeated.

Despite Rea's objections, I step into the room. They lift their head to look at me, only to lower it again. "Hey, Lorensky."

"Hey, Sánchez."

I sit next to the bed. The chair is cold and stiff; everything seems cold and stiff in this room. There isn't a medical bot in sight. Was Sánchez even tended to at all?

"What do you want?" they croak.

I can't see their eyes, but the metal plate on their shoulder seems to glare at me. A lump forms in my throat. "I just... wanted to see how you are doing, that's all."

"I'm as good as I can be."

That's the same non-answer they gave me earlier. I peel my eyes away from them—away from the limbless shoulder—and fix my gaze on the bedsheet instead. The white, pristine bedsheet.

"General Caelum told me you're not able to get a new cyberarm," I whisper. "Is that... is that true?"

A long pause ensues.

Finally, they let out a breath. "Yeah, pretty much."

The words are a soft sigh, but a hard punch to my gut. So General Caelum was right. Sánchez lost their cyberarm to save me and now... they can't get it back. The bedsheet blurs into a pale swirl.

"I was told that when I was accepted into the Tower as a cadet," Sánchez continues with a shrug, "so this isn't a shock or anything. I knew there wouldn't be a mechanic to help me should anything happen to my cyberarm. The mechanics here do not have the license to work on Ground Earth-born individuals. I could get ointments and other items for basic care from them, but I'll have to do everything else myself, and that's how it has been ever since I came here."

"There's... not a single mechanic here with a license?"

"Yeah. Or rather, their licenses only permit them to work on people born here."

"But that doesn't make sense. Why would they limit the permissions like that? There are so many people from Ground Earth entering the Tower!"

Sánchez snorts. "Oh yeah? Who else do you know?"

I open my mouth to retort, but my mind draws a blank. Who else do I know?

"I don't know anybody else," I admit. "But I mean, I don't know many people, Ground Earth dwellers or not, so that doesn't mean anything."

Sánchez bursts into laughter. I lift my head, and our eyes meet for the first time since the start of our conversation.

"Did you just admit you have no friends, Lorensky?" they tease.

My cheeks burn. "I- I know people in our class!"

"As if you socialize with them."

"Who has time to be socializing?"

Sánchez laughs again. There's a lot more energy in their voice now. "God, you're such a loser, Lorensky."

"Whatever, I definitely won't be one in the Selection now." My smug statement slips out before realization strikes me. "Wait, no, I'm sorry, Sánchez, crap, I didn't mean it like that. I just- I mean- Sorry, we've been saying things like that for so long that I—"

"Shut up, Lorensky." Sánchez tilts their head, their signature smirk returning to their lips. "Do you think I'm not gonna win because of my arm? I'll be used to this in no time."

"But the Selection is in five days."

"That's more than enough time for me. Worry about yourself, Lorensky. Go back to practice or you'll fall behind."

"You need to join me too, or you'll fall behind."

Their smile falters. "I know. The medical bot advised me to wait a day."

"Oh. Okay. So... I'll see you at practice tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Okay." I rise to my feet. We stare at each other for a while before I tear my eyes away awkwardly. "Um, take care, Sánchez."

"Yeah," they mutter. "You too."

As I step out of the room, I glance back at Sánchez. They are back to that hunched, defeated posture. I turn around, and the white, pristine walls stare back at me. The color is making me nauseous now.

"At least they're the least of your worries now." General Caelum's words are a stinging buzz in my ears.

I close my eyes and let the tears flow.