Explain It Like I'm Tree

Checkup

Arthur's knuckles tightened. "M-ma'am... last time I needed... sedation. To do this. I... am trying a different option. He's very well behaved. Please. Ihavealetter. Mytherapistshouldhavefaxedityesterday."

Mystery pressed against Arthur's leg again, setting one paw on top of his foot and pressing down. Arthur took a deep breath, repeating the last two sentences. "I have a letter. My therapist should have faxed it yesterday."

A chair creaking. Drawers opening and closing. Papers shuffling around. A head of short, hazel hair and keen eyes popped over the ledge, inspecting him. Mystery regarded her solemnly. No tail wag, no bark.

I am a picture of dignified calm.

"It's all in order, Mr. Kingsmen. I apologize, it's just a bit of a deviation from standard procedure. But your file has the letter, as well as a note from Dr. Noble. Please, have a seat."

Arthur walked stiffly to the farthest corner he could find and sat, his back rigid. Mystery followed, never more than a foot away.

"Arthur Kingsmen?"

He jolted to his feet, nearly dropping the leash. "Yes. Me. Here." He walked in after the nurse who'd called his name. Mystery didn't like the syrupy smile she wore, or the way she clicked her tongue at them, or the way she raised her eyebrows rather pointedly in Mystery's direction. Still, he controlled the urge to bristle, raising his head a little higher as he padded beside Arthur.

Weight. Height. Urine test, for which Mystery was required to stay outside with the syrupy nurse. Apparently there had been issues with some patients who attempted to cover up substance abuse by substituting samples from their pets. Arthur accepted this with a nod, spent exactly ninety-seven seconds in the bathroom, then came out to trade the sample for the end of the leash.

He took his place in the exam room. The nurse alternated between vapid questions and a stream of chatter as she took his blood pressure. Checked ears. Checked eyes. Stethoscope over the heart. Over the lungs. He offered one-word responses, his eyes fixed on the wall across from him. Her lips pursed as she jotted down notes.

"The doctor will be in shortly," she said. "You'll need to remove your upper clothing and the prosthetic. She'll knock before she comes in."

Arthur nodded at her back. The door shut behind her. Mystery finally released as quiet a growl as he could. One corner of Arthur's mouth turned up. "Yeah. I know. Just a script-follower, though. No real harm."

He peeled off the vest and set it in the stationary chair in the corner. He gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head, dropping it on top of the vest. Then he sat at the foot of the exam table and began to remove his prosthetic.

The prosthetic couldn't hold very much weight by itself, as Arthur had explained to them in the design process, and Arthur was determined to have something as close to a functional left arm as he could design. The challenge had been to distribute the weight of whatever that arm was holding to the rest of his body, not allowing it to strain the connector. To this end, he'd developed a harness that connected to the prosthetic. At six points, mesh cords wrapped in cloth attached to the connector end of the prosthetic. These cords branched out into a harness that cradled his upper torso like a spiderweb. Each branch of the cord had a turnbuckle that he could use to adjust the tension. The mass passed around him from behind, fit over his right arm like a vest, and curled around front to attach back at his left side, where he could manage the hooks that held it in place with his right hand.

His breathing eased as he focused on each step of this task, carefully loosening six main turnbuckles, unhooking each of the attachments, unwinding the harness from his front and shrugging his right arm through the hole. That done, he squeezed the two buttons that would release the main connection, tilting forward so that the prosthetic fell into his lap and not on the floor.