LIGHTNOVELONLINE 37. Institutionalized Treatment
As promised, the first week was rather boring, with three daily sessions with the scanner. These sessions consisted of me being hooked up to a large array of wires and sensors before being instructed to perform simple tasks. Sometimes I would be attempting to write, sometimes it would be arranging toy bricks in order of color; I never knew what I would be doing, but it was never anything difficult. According to the technician, this was just a method to engage my brain while using various senses to map the neural engagement as accurately as possible.
The accommodations that were promised turned out to be a simple but elegant affair. Being up in one of the ‘branches’ of the tree building, they also had an excellent view of the ocean beyond the coast. Food that was provided by institute room service was excellent as well, with vegetables coming in from the hydroponics gardens and fresh fish coming in from the ocean. Combined with the beds that felt like blanket-wrapped clouds, I was reminded that the Celeste Institute was generally reserved for the incredibly wealthy. I still hated that this life-saving technology was locked behind such an insurmountable paywall.
Regardless of the circumstances, I continued to submit to the scans. It settled into its own routine as days turned into a week and beyond. What little free time I had was spent with Echo. While I was unable to do much physically, the two of us played games using the institute’s entertainment facilities.
I talked to Vox some as well, but it was oftentimes difficult to reach her. Apparently, Erickson Senior was keeping her busy with something or other. She told me it was Erickson Enterprises business and I didn’t inquire further because I really had no reason to pry into company affairs yet. I have been an employee-to-be, but I wasn’t working yet and Echo was on vacation.
Sure, I missed the sentient digital being I called my friend, but I also wasn’t going to interrupt her. After all, as far as anyone else knew, Vox was simply an assistive intelligence, not a being of her own. I wasn’t going to betray that secret.
As promised, when day ten came around, I went to my usual morning brain scan (this time while I was stimulated by some strong odors), and was then brought into the office of the head biotechnician for the institute. He turned out to be a decent, if somewhat stiff man. There were a few pleasantries exchanged before we sat down in an exam room and he got down to business.
“Miss Matson, primary construction of the bio-lattice for your transference vessel has been completed. The first parts of the nervous system are in testing now and we’ve brought you in to run a series of tests to confirm biocompatibility. We will take a biopsy for comparison tests, but more pressing for you will be the sensory mapping exercise.”
Grasping back at my remembered research I replied. “Hooking me up to a section of engineered tactile sensors, right?”
“Correct,” came the bland and almost monotone reply. “If you will hold still, I’ll set up the link.”
Reaching into what looked like a lunch cooler with a hazmat symbol emblazoned on the side, the doctor retrieved a glass slate, upon which laid a patch of skin. A plethora of hair-thickness wires connected the patch to a digital interface port. From another case, he then pulled out a set of long metallic probes and a cable that would plug into the test bed.
“I am required to warn you that this may hurt. We need to ensure that the sensory nerves are working for you properly.”
“Hook me up, doc,” I told him.
Hook me up he did.
(tw: light body horror)
After scanning my neck with a small device, an assistant carefully inserted one of the probes into the base of my neck. Even with the assistant’s steady hands, I winced in pain as the metal needle was pushed into my spinal cord. A shiver crackled through my system.
Things only got weirder when the probes were plugged into the interface. I was glad that I was lying in a bed, because when the probe came to life, most of the feeling from my neck down suddenly cut out. In some ways, I was reminded of the brief time I’d spent hooked into the communications halo back in the hospital.
“Are you alright to proceed, Miss?” The doctor looked at me with a neutral expression. I nodded and he turned his attention to the test bed. “Now I am going to subject this sample to a few different sources of tactile stimulation and you will tell me what you are able to feel.”
The patch of skin was divided into sections with a set of black marker lines with some resemblance to a tic tac toe board. Gently at first, he proceeded to poke and prod at the sample tissue with a number of different tools. At first it was just a tongue depressor, but then it was a metal-tipped instrument.
I didn’t feel anything at first, but as the session continued, the assistant and doctor adjusted the probe in my neck and the settings on the testbed until I was, quite suddenly, able to feel the incredibly familiar and yet odd sensation of pressure. It was impossible to pinpoint blindly where the sensation was if mapped to my body, but I was definitely able to feel it. That pleased the doctor greatly.
For the next step, the doctor slid a blindfold over my eyes and asked me to identify directionality and temperature of the touches. The dissociated sensations took some getting used to, but I was able to identify them as requested after a while of the poking and prodding with the alternating heat and cold of the instrument he used.
“It seems that the neural mapping is functioning as expected,” the doctor finally said. “That bodes well for our chances of a seamless transfer when the time comes. Temperature sensitivity is a touch low, but this is merely the external test, so inconsistencies like that are to be expected. If you will just give me a moment, we will remove the neural block and bridge.”
With the assistant’s help, the biotechnician disconnected the test bed and stowed the tools as was appropriate before moving to my neck once more.
“Stay relaxed as best you can, restoration of normal bodily control can feel odd at first.” I felt a hand on my neck and then a sensation I could only describe as synaptic static. A burst of pain shot down my back as my spinal cord was reconnected to my brain. It was almost like my entire body was asleep and suddenly came back to life. In unison, every one of my appendages twitched and then it was over. I was back to myself.
With a gloved hand, the doctor did some light palpitations of my hands and feet. “Any lack of sensation? Are you able to feel this?”
I nodded. “Yeah, doc. Felt hella weird for a moment though.”
“As expected,” was his response. “Well, the test is complete as of now. Feel free to stay in the room until you feel ready to leave.”
I thanked the man for his time. The doctor then left and the assistant assisted me in transferring from the bed back to my wheelchair. I did end up giving myself a few minutes to readjust, but finally pressed forward on the joystick to move myself out of the office and back to my chambers.
Echo was napping on her bed when I wheeled into the hotel-like room; however, my entrance apparently caused enough of a noise that she woke up.
“Oh hey, Addy. I guess I fell asleep while doomscrolling.” Sure enough, a tablet was lying next to the girl on the bed. With a small grunt of effort and a quiet yawn, she stretched and sat up in the bed.
“No worries, Echo. I just finished up with the biotech appointment. Can’t say I would ever want to do that again.” I grimaced.
The Erickson heiress made a similar face. “Yeah, I’m right there with you. The neural splice really is uncomfortable and I can imagine that it was almost worse for you, considering, well…” Her hand gestured at me and my wheelchair. I shrugged.
“Well,” she continued. “Changing the subject, I saw a video from about an hour ago that you might want to see.” I raised an eyebrow and watched as my companion activated the wall viewer and messed around with her tablet for a few moments before throwing the vid to the viewer.
To my surprise, though I suppose that I shouldn’t have been, Lucean Torgal appeared. The highly successful business man was standing in front of a small crowd of press. A ribbon across the bottom announced this as the official press statement from Torgal.
“After the regrettable incident involving an employee of the Telemachus branch of Torgal Corporation, a full audit was launched to investigate claims of managerial abuse and misappropriation of resources. To my grave disappointment, with the audit now complete, I can now say that those claims have turned out to be true.”
His face was calm, but his words brought forth some bile in my throat. Flowery words weren’t going to undo what had happened to me and calling it a ‘regrettable incident’ was a dirty understatement.
“The investigation has concluded that the reason behind the problems in the Telemachus system can be squarely laid on the shoulders of the now former branch executive. Out of a desire to increase personal profits through means of self-assigned bonuses and skimmed accounts, significant corruption was sown. We as a corporation are deeply sorrowful for the individuals affected by this situation and we are taking steps to ensure that such events do not happen again. In addition, in a gesture of goodwill, all affected parties are being compensated for losses and damages.” The video cut off there, just as the reporters began scrambling to ask questions.
Echo scoffed too. “Public relations posturing, that’s all that is. Still, I figured you would want to see it.”
Despite myself, I chuckled. “Well, at least they are doing something other than just burying it all. A company like that could have paid people off and it never would have made it to the news.”
“I don’t know, Adresta. They picked it up pretty fast. You weren’t really aware of it, of course, but you were on the news within the day. Regardless, they are playing it smart. By putting all of the blame on your old boss, he removes the company from the equation. And by giving stuff to the injured parties, it helps cut the sting of them not having taken care of the apparent issue before.”
With my shoulders sagging, I responded. “Maybe I should have asked for more. It’s not like the man can’t afford it.”
Echo frowned. “Maybe, but that also means he is powerful enough that you could have been silenced if he didn’t like what you demanded.”
That got a grimace out of me. “You aren’t wrong, I guess. Even Mister Yates said I probably made the right choice letting it lie. Doesn’t mean I like it, though.”
Standing up, Echo leaned over and gave me a hug. “I know, hun. It will all work out in the end. You have people in your corner. We won't let you go through this alone.”