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Syberg Lawrence Peters
He woke up so hard he still had the pressed leather emblems from the Mustang's seats on his face. A hard crash into wakefulness and the beginning of the day. God, and there was a god, for his own body would have quit this world without divine intervention of some sort. Only a god would let a human body feel this much pain.
Head bumped off the ceiling and some sort of focus coming back to the eyes. EQ still off a bit, though.
What did I do last night.
And what did I do to my arm?
My hand...
This wasn't seriously normal, so he gave himself a couple of more minutes with his eyes shut. Doing that made his head swim a bit.
A cigarette would be nice about now.
He lit one up. His hand felt a little numb. He flexed the fingers. A clacking sound... his hand.
Meat no more. Metal. Well done, for what his hazy sight could make out.
Oh my god.
You're not human anymore.
Entirely.
Oh...
What did I do last night? As soon as this hangover wears off a little I think I'll think a little harder. Because of course, this couldn't be happening.
Brain to tired really to deal with any higher thoughts yet, tells body to pass out.
Later the practical reality took over. He needed coffee. Already thought of a story to tell to get him through breakfast. It didn't interfere with his driving. It didn't bother him at all. He didn't have the courage to feel how much further up his arm it went. Not as far as the biceps, he thought.
Coffee, coffee...
At the roadhouse cafe he pulled on an old work glove found in the trunk and started in. As the first cup went down he felt some of his mind clearing. The rest of the meal followed, but the waitress had a secret smile for him. As he stood to pay he made the universal sign for "check" but got self conscious as he used his new hand to do it.
She sauntered up and gave him the full-on smile this time.
"It's on me."
"Thanks, that's real sweet of you, but I'm not as bummy as I look. Today. Really."
"No, hun, really, it's on me."
"Thanks, but why?"
"I was tending bar last night at the Punk. I saw what you did for that guy. You'll never pay for breakfast here again."
She saw the puzzled look, the haunted look cross his face and it dawned on her. He stood up. She stepped in closer. Her eyes swept his face.
"You don't remember! That's ok, you were pretty lit. You did the bravest, sweetest thing I've ever seen. You saved that guy's life."
"Guy?"
She steered him back to his seat and sat him down, poured more coffee.
"Here it is from the start. You come in. Guy comes in, little lost. Locals, a little drunk as usual, started in on him. Tried to take him outside. You got up like godzilla, like the movies, and tried to talk them out, 'give the guy a break' kind of stuff."
"My 'Star Trek' speech... 'Why can't we all just get along...'"
"Yeah, it was sure pretty, you got all of us going, except them--it just made them madder."
"What did I do next?"
"You really don't remember this?"
"Would I be asking if I knew?"
"Ah, hun, you got between them and the guy. They took you outside. I didn't see what they did, but the guy went outside after you. None of you came back. What did happen out there?"
"I wish I knew." I really did. I thanked her, promised to tell her if I remembered, and left.
A sound shoots through space and finds its way home. It says,
"...so there I am, and I wander into this place of loud noise and humans. The humans accepted me as one of their own, but some were put off, or curious, or just human, and wished to combat me. I didn't know what to do; nothing like that was in my briefing. Then this one human, a higher life form that the others, settled the matter for me. He took my place. They tried to combat him, but he was too powerful for them. First he tried logic, then reason, then when his words weren't understood, they attacked him. I couldn't, as they would say, 'let it go.' He tried his best but their strength was in numbers. One tried to sever one of his appendages with a metal implement. I quickly rendered them back into their component molecules. The appendage couldn't be saved; I used it as a model for a replacement. I understood what I did went beyond the boundaries of our mandate and my orders, but I acted in the true faith and spirit of our mission.
End of survey report 117."
He drove off, into the beginnings of a hot day. The hand glinted as he shifted into gear and turned the radio on. He stuck a cig in his lopsided smile.
Later, in a brief twilight time before sleep I remember some of what happened to me, the memories come disjointed, rough, drunk.
I have no clue as to why I smile as I think of it, but smile I do. And somehow it's connected to something my grandfather taught me... do the right thing, son, and sometimes the right thing will be done to you.
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"I like it lawry...nice as always ;)" -- PiXie.
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