The wind whistles through the trees and I turn up my audio in order to hear the chirping of the birds. I've been coming here a lot recently, "here" being a trail through the woods residing on the edge of the city. After the cyborg operation I haven't been myself and Dr. Kess suggested I keep my stress levels down for at least a week. This rules out my job at the factory and leaving me with little to do. I'm not sure I would want to go back there after what happened anyway but I do enjoy my work. I have been working hard for months now attempting to earn a promotion and with my new cyborg abilities, my boss might finally become convinced of my abilities. At the moment, there isn't much I can do as I haven't been in contact with him other than for insurance information.
A ping startled me. I have yet to get used to the benefits of having messages filtered directly into your cyborg brain. My mom is wondering what I am doing. A check of my internal clock reveals the time is almost five o'clock. Time seems to pass more quickly when. I spend it in the woods, the birds distract me from reality.
My mom, dad, and I eat dinner together every evening at five thirty. My sister, Anna joins us when she isn't busy with work but she lives in her own apartment a few streets over from ours. I decide I should start walking home now to avoid being late.
This is my last day off work and even though I enjoy my job at the factory, I will definitely miss these daily walks through the wilderness. I worry my whole working routine has been completely altered. My left cyborg arm will now likely take over my work. I am right-handed bit cyborg limbs are built to be faster and more accurate than human ones. Both are critical I'm my line of work. Usually I cut sodium blocks using a machine requiring me to pull a lever over and over almost all day. Sometimes I do house calls, however, people call me in to fix their broken devices. Although their problems usually don't require much fixing on my part, I appreciate the variety.
The walk home takes me about a half hour and I notice Anna's purse hanging on our coat rack. She hasn't been home since my operation. Her job at the bank is very demanding and she has been stressed recently and working longer hours than usual.
"Anna!" I holler running into the kitchen. "I haven't seen you in so long!" She is sitting at the kitchen table facing my mom who is making soup. Her blue eyes have dark circles under them from lack of sleep. She is wearing her work clothes but her hair has fallen out of it's bun, like she never had time in her busy day to fix it. "Are you okay?"
Standing up to hug me, she replies, "I'm fine, just tired. I've been so busy I haven't had time to think!" As we pull away from our hug she examines my new arm. The metal plating shines in the apartments bright lighting. "How does it feel?" asks Anna, she doesn't have any cyborg parts.
"I'm still getting used to it. It's very easy to control, but it takes time to get used to the speed and extra strength. If I'm not paying attention I end up squeezing things to tight," I reply.
"And how do you feel about the brain implants?" she asks. Cyborg body parts are accompanied by small computer parts installed in one's brain. They are necessary for controlling the new limb but provide other benefits. Imagine having a tiny computer or cell phone in your brain; that's what it feels like.
"It's really convenient," I respond after thinking for a moment. "It'll be useful when I do house jobs at work to look up information about different electronics. I will be a lot more helpful now." My hope is that I could spend less time cutting sodium and more doing house runs. Some well-off families don't like having humans fix things for them. They think someone without cyborg benefits couldn't possible do the same quality of work. The humans are generally sent to do very simple tasks not requiring much more than a small knowledge of how to use whatever requires fixing. More challenging tasks are assigned to cyborgs due to their ability to look up any unknown information they might require.
Anna nods a bit absently. I can tell she is happy for me while at the same time wishing she could have the benefits of a cyborg brain, something highly coveted among the general population. It is possible to get brain implants without a new limb but the cost is too high for most people. I was lucky my parents had been saving their pennies since I was born in order to pay for the operation. When paying for a limb, the cost of required brain implants is subtracted so my parents consider it a waste of money to pay for brain implants when injuries are so common. When money allows, broken bones are replaced by cyborg limbs rather than waiting for the extensive healing process. For a worker at a physically demanding job, in the time a broken arm takes to heal they could be entirely replaced in their workplace. Comparatively, a cyborg limb takes only about a week to become fully ingrained in a person's body.
"Hey Isla, help me set the table would you?" my mom calls. As I hurry into the kitchen to help her, I hear my dad entering the apartment. He works as a scientist at a research company's headquarters on the opposite side of the city. My mom and I take our places at the table we've just finished setting as my dad takes off his work shoes and drops his briefcase on the couch. I spoon myself a bowl of soup and butter a slice of homemade bread. My mother works part time at a grocery store but she has a lot of time at home to fulfill her culinary hobby. My father likes to tease Anna that her meals are the real reason she comes over for dinner so often.
After dinner, I head to my bedroom to prepare for work the next day. I set out an outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. I know anything I wear will likely get grease stains on it from the factory and we aren't expected to dress nicely. Because it is my first day back after the operation, I try to pick a nice-ish shirt; a light purple with a pocket on the front and short sleeves (the factory is usually on the warm side, even in winter). I pull a green sweatshirt out of a drawer to wear on the walk there because even though it's March, the mornings are too chilly for short sleeves. I set my brain's wake-up time for 5:30am. My alarm clock has been cast away into my closet, now unnecessary because of my built-in wake feature. I set my messenger bag by the doorway and, considering myself fully prepared, recline on my bed and play some music through my audio.
I'm nervous for my first day back at work, getting a cyborg limb is a big deal. I don't like having attention on me, even when it's positive, I would rather stay in the background. Flooding my brain with music helps me calm my nerves. I don't have a preference of what music I listen to but now I've picked classical. Around 9:30 I start dozing off so I decide to get ready for bed, the extra sleep won't hurt.
I say goodnight to my parents and Anna who are in the living room watching a movie, and change into my pajamas. I lie down, surprisingly exhausted from an uneventful couple of days. Sleep finds me quickly and I don't wake up until morning.
• • •
I roll out of bed, naturally woken, at 5:30, get dressed, grab a bagel for breakfast, and start walking to the factory. At three blocks away, the walk takes me about twenty minutes. I enjoy the freedom I have in my ability to walk to work. My father relies on the subway service for his commute but I prefer the time alone to think.
Upon my arrival at the factory, I check in stopping for a quick conversation with my close friend, Monica, who works at the station next to me. She already has a cyborg right foot from a car accident a few years ago so she doesn't have as many questions about my new cyborg abilities as my family did. We walk together up the flight of stairs to our positions. Although we work next to each other, we can't talk to each other as there are small walls dividing the work stations to prevent distractions. Although sodium is a soft metal, the blades used to cut it can be deadly. In fact, one of those blades was how I lost my arm, I wasn't paying attention and it just slid into the danger zone.
My station looks just how I left it, my name is printed on one of the walls and the sodium-cutter seems to have gone undamaged in the accident. I hang my messenger bag on a hook on one of the walls and get to work. My boss leaves us printed memos pinned to the walls with our tasks for the day. I am not sure whether she knows that today is my first day back as each boss is in charge of so many people.
The slip shows that I don't have any house appointments for today. Sighing, I begin turning the machine on to settle in and cut some sodium when someone crashes into me from behind.
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Thanks for reading everyone! Stay tuned next week for part 3!