Chapter 28—Precious Cargo
The next day, as soon as school ended, Lydia met up with Barrett for physical therapy. The doctor had a special gift to give her. “A cure?” Lydia asked.
“No, but the next best thing,” Barrett said. “Come with me.”
The next best thing would’ve been a free pass out of there. Or even hiding them would be fine, she lamented, staring at her ungainly arms and legs.
“We worked out most of the kinks,” she told Lydia. They headed toward one of the second-floor laboratories instead of the usual physical therapy room. Like the third floor, the second exchanged blue hallway lights for bright white. “Only part of it is ready so far.” Barrett wouldn’t elaborate any further. When they arrived at the lab, she punched in a code on a keypad and walked in, followed by Lydia.
There was a cleared space in the middle of the room. Monitors were spread out, displaying various statistics. One of the few people inside greeted Barrett, and then Lydia. “This is our chief technician, Dr. Brentle,” Barrett said, introducing him. “He and I have been working together on your little project.”
Brentle grinned like a madman. Or, Lydia thought, like a middle-aged mad scientist, with his white coat and unkempt hair. He steepled his jittery thin fingers and brought them to his lips. “You’re going to be very pleased,” he said, rushing to one of the tables. He beckoned Lydia over to him and swept his hand over the objects. “What do you think?”
On the table’s surface lay two tube-shaped wire frames. The black metal and rubber that comprised the frames were like slender fingers, crisscrossing in a flexible tightly woven pattern. Lydia looked up at Brentle and Barrett, unsure what to make of the mysterious devices. “Er,” she started, leaning her head to the side, “they look nice?”
“Nice? Nice?” Brentle asked, his voice rising to a hysterical pitch.
“Very nice?” Lydia offered.
“This is some of my greatest work to date!” Brentle said, picking up one of the contraptions. “The feel, the design, the craftsmanship! All tailored perfectly! Things that were never in the original notes, oh no. That design was crude at best. I’m surprised no one’s arm was ripped off. They never even tried to accommodate the wearer!”
“You remember that skeletal design I told you about?” Barrett said. “Here are the arms.”
“The Mighty Mitts!” Brentle said, shaking the device in front of her. During the awkward silence that followed, he shuffled his feet. “MMR and MML. Right and left, get it?” His eyes roamed the room. “It’s only a temporary name. Something I call them until the entire exoskeleton is finished. Although technically, they are arms, not mitts.”
“Scott, I don’t have all day,” Barrett said.
“Right, sorry.” He handed the device to Lydia. Barrett took it from her and slipped it onto Lydia’s arm. Brentle did the same with the other, all the while describing their functions. “The Mighty Mitt—”a stern look from Barrett—”they slip on easily. Completely conformed to your size, allowing full flexibility in your arm. They are capable of reducing the stress your muscles take on your bones. The way they work is that through their design—”
“Scott—” Barrett said, cutting him off. She snapped her fingers at one of the other technicians. “Bring a heavy bag in here.”
Promptly, two men brought in a large punching bag. On the bag, they placed sensors attached to the monitors. They dangled it from a stand in front of Lydia, and then stood to the side. Lydia turned to Barrett, who urged her forward. “Go ahead. Not too hard though.”
Lydia stepped up to the heavy bag. She flexed her fingers, curling and uncurling them. She breathed deeply. In, curl. Out, uncurl. When she was ready, she planted her feet. She drew her shoulder back, building up some power. She punched the bag firmly.
The bag swung into the air, spinning around the top. It looped once before the weight unbalanced the whole stand, knocking the entire thing over. The people around talked excitedly about the numbers the monitors spat out. What amazed Lydia the most was the lack of pain. No pain. Not an ounce. The punch had been completely natural. She shook her hand and marveled at the wire frames on her arms.
“I would say that’s a success,” Barrett said. “Now I must caution you, these can help only so much. This is their limit. If you punched any harder, you’d feel at least a little pain.”
“The reason is that your estimated top strength is far beyond the material we used,” Brentle said. “That’s not to say we used cheap parts. No, no. It’s a fascinating combination. The soft parts that move around on your elbows? Gives you room to stretch, but holds firm when you straighten your arms, eh? That quality runs throughout the Mighty Mitts. It’s a mixture of—I’ll shut up now.” He shied away from Barrett.
“Smart,” Barrett said. “Put simply, we can’t match your strength. So be careful when using those. However, at least now you won’t have to worry so much about breaking your bones with the slightest effort. We’ll also be watching in case there are any problems. Come to me if there are. Not that we’ve monitored any side effects from testing, but I would suggest you don’t wear them all the time. Only because it would be best to keep up with restraining yourself without them as well. So take them off at night or when relaxing.”
“So I can keep them?” Lydia asked.
“Yes,” Barrett said. “That’ll be enough for today. Let’s head back down.” She took out her pack of cigarettes and slipped one in her mouth. “I need a smoke.”
* * *
Halfway Heroes Page 50
