by P. S. Power
No cow or pig parts, which had been the case for the original being described in the Shelley book.
The thing there was that Liam was different now, not having any DNA at all. Proving that he was made of those specific dead people would be, he thought, nearly impossible. Even if there was a money trail leading to Mary and her work, without the bodies it was going to be hard to show that she’d done anything wrong with them. Those had, he thought, been bought illegally. Again, the indications online were that no one would be stupid enough to use a credit card for that kind of transaction. Meaning there would be no proof or evidence left that could hold up in court.
It was also clear, when he checked, that Brenner hadn’t lied to him. Even if Mary was allowed to go back to her own home that day or the next, he would probably be held away from her for at least two years. While it wasn’t neglect or abuse, given his needs and differences, a five-month-old who was left alone at times, didn’t have a room and wasn’t ever allowed to go outside might be seen that way, if the state wanted to punish Mary for some reason.
A thing that, it seemed, was the real case. They wished to make her life hard, so that others would learn of it and understand that they would be punished if they tried to create life in the wrong way. In short, it was a maze of official red tape that they were really facing and not a lifetime of being beaten and locked away for his mother, as he’d feared when he’d first sat down at the table in the front room.
The day before was a week day, a Wednesday, which meant that Mary would be in court that afternoon at the latest, to be seen by a judge. Probably to be released on bail, if she had the funds for it. That part was a thing that Liam didn't know at all. Mary hadn’t left the house to work each day or anything, though did spend time online, which she felt was important. That could have been generating income, he supposed. She kept her clothing on for it, so it wasn’t cam girl work.
That kind of thing, interestingly, had pictures with it when he searched the topic out. Unlike at home there were no filters on the web service. His computer had to be reset but he’d tapped in that it was unrestricted, in order to get at most of the legal information. Otherwise his machine wouldn’t allow him to see that kind of thing.
Most of the searches he ran were like that, once the blinders were removed from what he wanted to learn about. The only one that seemed like it might be the same was the shoe making portion. That part, clearly, was going to take tools and after several hours of going over what would be needed, other materials and the ability to work in either wood or a hard cast resin. That was needed in order to make the forms so the shoes would fit his special needs feet.
Finding some paper, a yellow pad of it that seemed empty, though had indentations showing it had been used before and more than once, he wrote out a list of what would be needed in order to do that. Make his own shoes. Then he settled in to learning about medicine. First aid and field surgery first, since that sounded like the most needed function from what Brenner had told him. Treating diseases gave you more time to look things up, it seemed to him. Then he doubled back around to go over the first aid portion again before realizing that someone was touching his shoulder.
It was Brenner, though she seemed surprised when he jumped. The woman hadn’t been moving silently or trying to approach without him noticing her at all. No, Liam had simply been so wrapped up in what he was doing that he hadn’t been able to notice her until she made a point of interrupting his thoughts.
Still, he smiled at her, looking over his shoulder. In his research that part had seemed to be important. If you had to get along with someone, it was important to give them signs that you liked them. Smiling was one of those signals, so he used it. That part might have been different if he’d been trying to have sex with the woman but the rules she’d set about when he was allowed to do that seemed to be fairly logical and really were part of the law. That meant he had well over a decade and a half before he needed to worry about things like that.
“Hello! Did you rest well?” That, asking polite, simple questions was part of getting along with people. He was going to end up being too invasive, he knew, since what he wanted to know about the world would, at times, require that of him.
Yawning and rubbing her freckled face, Brenner let her head bob up and down.
“Not bad. Of course, now my sleep hours are fucked. Getting up at seven at night is brilliant of me. Um… You weren’t too bored or… Did you get something to eat?”
Glancing over his shoulder at her, he shook his head.
“I didn’t eat. I had a donut this morning. I probably won’t need anything else today. I learned to make shoes, patch people up in emergency situations and discovered that Mary won’t be locked up for very long, if the courts aren’t crooked or corrupt. The crimes she is accused of won’t hold up, since there’s no evidence of note. You seem correct about my disposition though. I should contact the prosecutor and establish that, while I’m young, I’m more capable than is normal.” That part was a bit hazy for him.
After all, there had been no mention of that being possible online. The law said that he was too young. It simply made sense that he wasn’t being neglected, at the same time.
Brenner shook her head then, if only a bit.
“It won’t work that way. If you do that, it would just seem like a lie or trick to whoever you talked to. Even doing it in person won’t really fly. On paper you seem different than you are in reality. We also kind of can’t just put you into the court system like that. They have no mechanism for you being, well, you.”
That idea was understandable to him now, having read the opinion of many people who had dealt with the legal system and found it wanting. That was, interestingly, most of them who bothered to write about it online.
“So we’re hit with a wall of red tape and paperwork? One that will spend months if not years shuffling around, while the FBI keeps stopping the motion to hide me from the rest of the system?” No one had told him that or even hinted at it.
The FBI Agent winked at him.
“Exactamundo. Welcome to limbo, my young friend. So, on the good side, you didn’t trash the place or kill me in my sleep. I suppose you looked at all the porn online, not having supervision?”
He shook his head, since he really hadn’t.
“Some only, when I was looking up what sex was, so that I could understand how Clarissa Hodler was raped by Noah Bryant. Given her being a girl and of that age, thirteen, it will probably be prosecuted harshly. Noah might even be raped or beaten in prison for it, as well. That isn’t part of the punishment, just what many claimed would happen. Add in drug charges for manufacturing and he could be away for as much as fifteen to twenty years.”
Brenner looked at him, not moving for a long while and then blinked, several times.
“Um… That’s about right. Now if we could only get the other groups to understand that kind of thing as quickly as you picked it up. So, you can make shoes now?” She seemed to think the idea was cute, rather than funny.
“Yes. There will be practical matters I need to address first. Materials and practice in the physical portion of things, but I should be able to manufacture what is needed, given those factors.” His whisper made the words seem slightly dark, he realized.
Which wasn’t the case. Liam was, if anything, happier, thanks to understanding that the problems of the day before weren’t going to harm Mary too much. He would miss her, since she was the main person in his world and always had been. That she wasn’t going to be put in prison and raped was good to learn of, now that he knew it was an option.
Pointing, he indicated the list of what he wanted, in order to make shoes for himself. Brenner nodded at it and set it back down almost instantly.
“I bet we can get most of that on Amazon and have it delivered. Here... Or actually, let me run and start some coffee going, then get a shower and ready for the night. I’ll bet you hard cash that we have at least three people show up at my door tonight and
not even one of them will be a booty call.” The woman left the room then, humming a bit.
Liam looked up what a booty call was, as well as the term hard cash. He didn’t have any of that, it turned out and a booty call was simply a meeting to have sex. Normally in a situation where neither person involved had any intention of having children or a long-term relationship.
Once again, he found things relating to the night before. Clarissa was considered too young to have children or a relationship of note. The thing there was that, when Noah was attacked, she’d claimed to have been responsible for her own actions.
Clearly, she was, even while the law and social convention allowed that she couldn’t be. It should have been confusing but Liam was able to understand that it was both things at one time. The girl had been acting on different rules than she was supposed to, according to those around her. Noah on the other hand had been as well. The difference was that kids, beings that lacked experience and knowledge, weren’t held to the same standards as adults, who were expected to have learned what was right and wrong by the time they were about eighteen years of age.
Looking it up again, Liam noticed that there was no provision in human law for alternate cultures. Not in the country they were in. Other places had some religious rules that acted as a second legal system. That was illegal there, and also clearly what Brenner and Sanchez had mentioned to him, earlier that day. The woman walked back into the room, damp and in new clothing, about forty minutes later. Her path had taken her past the kitchen, clearly, since a steaming cup of coffee, in a white mug that had a chicken on the outside of it, was in her hand as she moved back toward him. Then she waved at him, to get him to move from his seat.
Setting her cup of hot beverage to the side, she tapped meaningfully on his flat keyboard, until a strange new website came up. Then, one by one, she went through the list of what he wanted to get, in order to make his own shoes. That came to about fifteen hundred dollars, a sum which had her rolling her eyes at him.
“Normally I’d say no to spending this much right off the bat. You haven’t even settled in yet and might be gone in a week. In this case, you’ll still need the stuff. Really learn to make your own shoes though. Otherwise it will probably cost this much every time you buy a pair from someone else.” She tapped the final transaction button then, the movement happening at almost exactly the same time as a rapping came from the front door. Then a pounding, almost instantly, on top of the first, more polite sounding attention gaining ploy.
Walking across the room, Brenner sighed.
“Who’s there? Everyone I know would call first…”
Even if she was serious in her tone and expression, that didn’t seem to be the truth. After all, Liam had been told that at times people simply walked into her home and would if the doors weren’t kept locked.
From outside, a man’s voice called out. It was familiar.
“It’s Mitchel and Robert Mobley. Rob has been hurt. Stabbed.”
More information didn’t come then, Brenner running to open the portal. That was made of solid wood, which seemed heavier than anything like that Liam had ever seen. True, he didn't have a lot of experience but thought it might have been about protection. It would be hard to break the heavy thing, for a small person or if they were weak, at the very least.
Two men all but fell into the room. One was from the night before and seemed tired still. Mitchel Warner. The other man was new to Liam. He was interesting in that he was slender and a bit shorter than even Liam was, making him not that big for an adult man. His hands and feet were of normal size, however.
The man was clutching his left hand over his middle, as if attempting to keep his blood inside his body. That wasn’t working well, it seemed. As he limped in, one of his ears showed through his medium length black hair. That was pointed enough to seem special. The skin was pale but only white. Like Brenner, if she didn't have any freckles to decorate her face.
Liam, having learned basic medical procedures, since he’d been told to, moved in first thing. Hoping the smaller man wouldn’t fear or hate him instantly. That could make treatment awkward.
“We need to get him to the exam room. We have all the supplies back there?” He hadn’t invaded the space to see what was there, not knowing what was truly allowed that way. Brenner had referred to him as a guest, which had a certain nebulous set of ideas attached to it. Not looking in the medicine cabinet was one of the things mentioned. That probably meant the medical room was off limits as well.
Mitchel nodded and helped him move Robert Mobley, who was also called Rob, in the right direction. Taking the small hallway next to the stairs that led upward to the bedrooms. Inside the back space wasn’t a modern medical facility, according to the pictures that had been shown online while he researched the needed ideas.
Still, it had enough for basic surgery as well as first aid. There didn’t seem to be a cooler for blood or plasma, which was fine, since he didn't know how to run a typing test yet anyway.
It hurt the small man, laying him down on the table. That had paper on it, to make it easier to clean, which was good, since there was enough blood to get on the thing. There was a sink however, with medical soap in a dispenser that could be activated with an elbow. He washed up first thing, moving fast, then moved in to look at the wound, gingerly pulling the button up shirt out of the way as the man hissed.
He spoke at the same time, his voice high pitched, while still clearly being male.
“Bloody hell, this is unpleasant. I know that I should have given him my wallet. It had my rent money in it though, so like a moron I fought. Unarmed. He didn't get it. The bastard. Argh.” The sound came when Liam pushed at the edge of the wound, then pulled it apart, gently. To see how bad the damage was inside.
Matching the pictures up inside his head got him to smile.
“Good. This isn’t that deep and no major arteries or veins were hit. We can just give you some pain killers and sew this up. I… Your kind of person, are you allergic to anything?”
For a moment the man seemed to take offense, then he looked at Liam closely for a moment and nodded, simply answering.
“It’s not a racial thing but I’ll swell up like a balloon if I get too near penicillin. Pain killers don’t really work on elves. I can do some magic and kill the pain that way, if it’s safe? It’s hard to do while running away, not knowing if you’re going to bleed to death. Go figure, right?”
That sounded correct to him, even if he didn’t know what was meant by magic. In the book Frankenstein it had been made clear that nothing like that existed and that alchemy was more or less incorrect as a theory. Chemistry, the more modern version was given as the tool of the future.
He had to work without latex gloves on, which he didn't explain until he moved in to touch the man, simply getting the thread and needle ready, mentally reviewing what would be needed.
“Bacteria and viral loads can’t grow on me. So this is very clean, after a washing. Can you do that magic for pain now, do you think? I need to prep the wound site. That could be painful.” It had been in the text online that iodine would sting if it was placed on a wound like he was going to do. Alcohol would as well. There were some cleaners that had painkillers, mild analgesics in them but if they were in the room with them, the things were hidden away in a cupboard rather well.
He needed to inventory the room, if his place there was going to be doing things like he was at the moment.
“I need this tray held for me. That or a stand for it.” The second one would have been better but nothing in the room looked like it would work for that. Next to the sink there was a place that might have worked but that was about seven feet away from where he needed to do the work.
Mitchel simply took the metal tray, which had a paper towel on it to catch moisture and stood next to him, the thing supported from the bottom with both his hands.
From the table there was a soft muttering, which sounded strained at first, and a gentle glo
w over the wound site. Ten seconds after that, Robert gave a nod, his eyes still closed.
“I’m ready. I’ll scream if it hurts, to let you know about it.”
Liam smiled, since that was a good plan.
“This won’t take long.” That was a thing he didn't really know, having never done it before. He was supposed to finish inside ten minutes. At least for the seventy-two stiches he was doing. The wound wasn’t deep but the blade had been pressed so it severed a line going downward, instead of just making a single line the size of the knife. That or the knife was much bigger than what was needed to slice bread and cheese.
Fifteen minutes later he was cleaning up, having already bandaged the patient. Thinking about it he felt lucky, since the man had provided his own pain relief. That allowed him to tape a bandage in place without worry that it would hurt. Then he washed everything in the area, even as the smaller man laid there, his eyes still closed.
There was a golden glow over the wound still.
Mitchel waved at it.
“He’s moved to a healing cantrip. It’s better than what they can do in a hospital, as long as you can get the bleeding stopped first. Otherwise people tend to die from blood loss. That was fine work, on the stitching. What do we owe you for it, Mr. Frankenstein?”
There was a gasp from the table then, as the gem like green eyes of the man on the table popped open.
“You aren’t serious? I was just operated on by Doctor Frankenstein? That’s a story to tell the kids, isn’t it?”
The man didn't seem old enough to have children, really. No more than twenty.
Liam shook his head, having spent the day researching such things.
