EXOSKELETON - A Novel

by Shane Stadler

  *

  Will felt the larger orderly release his arm, and watched as he flashed a plastic card at a white pad near the door handle. He heard a beep, the lock clicked, and a green light illuminated on a nearby panel. The smaller orderly pushed the door open, and the three men passed into a white room as large as a basketball gymnasium. The ceiling was at least forty feet high, from which two overhead cranes were suspended on steel guide tracks. Metal machining stations lined the wall on the left. Metal parts that looked like robot appendages—legs, arms, spines—hung from hooks on the walls.

  Sounds of milling machines and grinders echoed throughout the large room, and welding light flashed sporadically off the walls like blue-white lightning. Will counted about thirty people—mostly men—in red lab coats, moving busily about. They were all concentrating on their work through safety glasses.

  From about fifty feet away, Will saw a man look at them, tap the shoulder of a second, and point in the direction of Will and the orderlies. The second man looked at his watch and nodded, then walked over to them, pulling the safety glasses off of his face and over his head. "All of your system components are finished, 523," the man said, itching his scalp through his short, gray hair. Will noticed a hint of sweat on the man's brow. "I'm Aubry Coates, the fitting engineer. I know it's been a long day already, but this is going to take a while. The Exoskeleton is complex and takes some time to assemble. We should be finished in about four or five hours—if everything goes well."

  "Exoskeleton?" Will asked. He remembered them referring to some equipment, but it hadn't been given a name.

  Coates took a firm hold of Will's upper arm and addressed the orderlies, "Okay guys, we'll take it from here."

  As the orderlies headed for the exit, Coates directed Will to a chair in the center of the floor. "Yes, Exoskeleton. This is the assembly platform," he explained. "We have all of your parts roughly assembled—per the medical exam measurements—but we'll have to make some fine adjustments. All of the sensor data and medical imaging has been loaded into the computer program. We'll start with the mechanical stuff—feet first—and work our way up. Once that system is tested, we'll install the electrical, medical monitoring, and medical servicing systems. Understand?"

  "No, I do not understand," Will said, shaking his head.

  "You were informed of this during your orientation—during your first meeting."

  "No, I wasn't. I was told about some biomechanical interface—nothing about an Exoskeleton." Will recalled that that first meeting had been called short. Dr. Smith had only given him the dime tour.

  "The Exoskeleton is the biomechanical interface." Coates seemed to look for some recognition in Will's face, but Will was still confused. Coates continued, "Doesn't matter, you'll see as we go along." Coates let go of his arm. "Now, remove your clothes and slippers, and have a seat so we can get started."

  Will's thoughts flashed back to that first meeting with Dr. Smith; how she'd treated him. He became even more tense as he thought of those who had followed her—Dr. Johnson, then Ms Hatley ... But he kept his anger to himself, disrobed and sat in the chair.

  Coates pulled out a blaze-orange walkie-talkie the size of a small cell phone, and spoke into it, "Lowers people—you're up. Mid-section—you're on deck."

  A minute later four men drove up in a small electric cart. On its carpeted flatbed were a pair of robot-like legs, similar to those hanging on the walls, only dissected into feet, shins, knees, thighs, and hips. One of the men picked up a shoe-like piece, walked over to Will, and slipped it over his left foot. It felt heavy and cold. The device was extremely complicated—each toe was jointed—and there were many moving parts. The whole thing seemed to have more "bones" than the biological foot, but Will could still see a lot of his skin though the intricate structure.

  The technician made a few adjustments with a wrench, making the foot curl into a tippy-toe position. Holding it in the fully-flexed state, another man inserted a large Allen key into a receptacle on the "foot" and turned, forcing it to curl even further. Will squirmed and tried to get out of his chair, but two other men held him steady. A moment later the stress was released, the men let him loose, and they went for the other foot. The process was repeated.

  Next were the shins—not much pain there. The shins were then connected to the knee joints, and in less than an hour they had worked all the way up to the hips.

  A second group rolled in with torso parts. The mid-section was a work of technological art. It looked like a human spine on the backside, the ribbed sides interconnected with shiny springs and tubing, and the chest-piece was made of interleaved titanium rods and plates. Everything but the head-cage was assembled in about three hours, according to a large analog clock, high on the wall above the entrance.

  The Exoskeleton wasn't uncomfortable: the parts that touched his skin had a coating that was smooth and lubricating. It made Will wonder how often he'd be inside the machine.

  The head assembly was delivered next. The technicians assembled a titanium frame around his neck and head, and connected the "spine" to the frame near the back of his skull. It seemed to Will that the bulk of the assembly was complete, and it was a lot more open than he'd originally imagined: he could see through it to his skin in many places—except his abdomen, where the plates and rods covered most of the area. It really resembled a skeleton framed around his body, but riddled with motors, hydraulics, and other components encased in the structure.

  Coates barked into his walkie-talkie, "We need electrical here, stat. Pneumatics is on deck. Medical is in the hole," he said and walked over to Will. "How are things feeling in there—feel any pinching or obvious discomfort?"

  "None right now," Will replied. "How long am I going to be in this thing?"

  "What?" Coates replied. His expression was that of confusion.

  Will repeated his question.

  Coates shook his head. "They really didn't tell you anything? What the hell ... " He put his radio in his pocket and looked Will straight in the eyes. "You are in there for the entire three-hundred and sixty-five days."

  Will couldn't respond, and just stared ahead blankly.

  After an awkward few seconds, Coates said, "We'll do a full test in about an hour. You can have water now, if you want."

  Will shook out of his bewildered, despondent trance, and replied, "Please." Suddenly he found himself desperately thirsty.

  Coates nodded to another man who retrieved a water bottle. The red-coated technician stuck the nozzle of the squeeze bottle through the head frame and into Will's mouth. He was so thirsty that the water tasted sweet. He drank down half the bottle, and nodded that it was enough.

  "Your file says you're a physicist," Coates inquired.

  "Yes," Will replied. Was a physicist.

  "Then you might appreciate the Exoskeleton—or just Exo, as we call it. It's amazing technology," Coates explained. "The frame is constructed of titanium and high-strength aircraft aluminum, with a few stainless steel pieces here and there, and some spring-steel. The joints are Teflon coated, and the bio-surfaces are a biocompatible, self-lubricating polymer that's resistant to all sorts of chemicals and environments. The "bones"—including the spine—double as electrical and biomedical conduits."

  "Yes, it's impressive," Will said. He didn't care about the technology in the slightest. "But what am I supposed to do with this thing?"

  Coates' expression revealed confusion and frustration, once again, but he seemed to ignore the question, and continued. "To control the motion, there are many different types of actuators; some are high-torque stepper motors, which run on electrical power. Others are controlled through hydraulics, and some are pneumatic-controlled by compressed air. There are heaters, cooling lines, complex biosensors, built-in program chips, fiber-optics, and even laser navigation for guidance into ports. And, most crucially, all computer control and power is linked to one external port, located on your lower back near the center of gravity. It's one of the most amazing s
ystems I have ever seen, and I've been in bioengineering research for over twenty years."

  Will was an experimental physicist; he understood well the engineering of motion control, and had colleagues who studied bio-interfacing. As far as he knew, no comprehensive biomechanical-interfaced system existed. Even prosthetics, though they had come a long way, had very limited functionality.

  By the looks of the system they were assembling around him, Will surmised the development of the Exoskeleton must have taken decades. To integrate the biosensors, fiber-optic nerves, motion sensing, and the feedback to a central processor required the integration of many different areas of research.

  How they had kept it secret was more interesting to him than the technology. Now, he thought, they must be in the test phase. Then it hit him: maybe he was the test dummy for this new technology—that's what this was all about. It made complete sense—this was the hazardous duty.

  "Who developed it?" Will asked.

  "Not sure, but Syncorp, Inc., is stamped on all the major parts," Coates replied. "My guess is that it had many developers—probably government contractors of all kinds."

  A cart pulled up, and the next phase of assembly was about to begin.

  *

  Heinrich Bergman hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. Evidently, word had leaked about the missing project files, and one of the project's contributors had just backed out. He was hopeful that the contributors weren't in communication with one another. But, if they were, they might all back out; they were a skittish group, and rightly so—they could all end up in prison, or worse.

  It was all getting very convoluted: now someone had leaked the leak. Bergman wondered if he had moved too slowly on Frank Weiss ... He had every intention of enacting protocol for Weiss' selling of the technical plans, but he admitted it should have been done sooner.

  Now he had to move. He picked up the phone and punched in a number. "Lenny, I have a job for you before you head to Illinois ... "

  *

  Will listened to the chatter of a group of technicians as they ran tubes, wires, and fiber-optic cables through the conduits of the Exo. They ran tests as they proceeded, and Will heard one man yell commands from behind him, out of his view. He heard the same tech hooking up wires at the control port located in the small of his back, and clicking on a keypad.

  "Right-side hydraulics," the tech yelled.

  "Right-side hydraulics actuated," a voice responded, and Will felt a subtle stiffening of everything, even the ribs, on his right side.

  "Check," the port tech barked back.

  They proceeded to test the left side, and numerous other systems, and finished thirty minutes later.

  Coates came back. "Everything look okay?" he asked the port technician.

  "It all looks good for electrical, hydraulics, and pneumatics," Will heard from behind him.

  "Okay, medical," Coates yelled. "Let's get this thing loaded." He took the walkie-talkie out of his pocket and put it to his mouth, "Test group, you're on deck." He turned to Will, "The medical crew will install the hypodermic cartridges and biosensors, and then we'll give this thing a test drive."

  "What are they for?" Will asked.

  "They didn't explain anything to you, did they?" Coates shook his head. "The Exo is what conducts the entire treatment. You are not controlling it. It is controlling you. And, to answer your question, some treatments call for injections."

  Will was even more confused, and starting to feel an itching anxiety; he was trapped, and at the mercy of the people around him. And now feelings of claustrophobia were starting to creep in to his mind. The Exoskeleton conducts the treatments?

  Two technicians arrived and assembled a system of wires, tubes, and actuators on the underarm, neck, and inner thigh sections of the Exoskeleton. Afterwards, they snapped in cartridges and sensors, hooked up a computer to the main control port, and started the tests.

  "Sensor readings are on-line," a tech announced. "Heart rate, blood pressure, breathing rate, body temperature—all six sensor-point locations are working. Muscle tension—all twenty-four points, electrical conductivity—twelve points, and blood oxygen sensors are operational."

  "Test the blood sampling system," Coates ordered.

  "Here we go." The tech at the computer clicked a button and Will heard a whirring noise, then a click near his right bicep. He saw one of the cartridges shift and a small hatch slide open. Without delay, a small hypodermic needle plunged into his upper arm. Will yelped—more from being startled than from the pain, and he squirmed as the needle, guided by a small actuator, searched for a vein.

  "Take it easy in there—this part shouldn't be too bad," the technician said, clicking another button, activating another needle cartridge. The process was repeated for both of his inner thighs and each side of his neck. It wasn't pleasant, Will thought, but at least it wasn't the sadistic Ms. Hatley driving a sharp steel wire through his soul. A moment later, all of the needles retracted simultaneously and the cartridges were ejected to the floor, where they clanged around on the cement like bullet shells.

  "Blood sugar is low, as expected. All systems check out—all bio-parameters in normal range," the tech said as he unplugged the cables and closed his laptop. Another man picked up the used hypodermic cartridges with gloved hands, and put them in a plastic bucket labeled BIOHAZZARD.

  Will heard the sound of a large electric motor, but couldn't place its origin until he noticed motion above him. The two overhead cranes were moving; they were heavy-duty winches that moved independently on a steel I-beam. When they had stopped, cables with hooks lowered from each winch, and the techs snapped them into place on the Exo: one near the back of Will's neck, and the other near his tailbone. The winch motors again whirred, and Will and the Exo were lifted into the air. The cables were then adjusted so that Will was horizontal, facing the floor.

  "Okay, bring in the docking truck," Coates yelled.

  Within a minute, a large, battery-powered vehicle with a hydraulic arm rolled into the room. It resembled a giant, mechanical scorpion on wheels: a large appendage hung high over the front of the vehicle, riddled with hydraulic cables and tubes. There were at least three large joints on the "scorpion's" tail, almost like those of a finger, only universal in their movement.

  At the tip of the appendage was a black, metallic cylinder, about a foot long, and at least eight inches in diameter at its thickest point. The cylindrical grooves that ran its length made it resemble the cylinder of a giant revolver, and it tapered to a smaller diameter at the tip.

  Coates barked again, "Insert the control drive."

  The vehicle's hydraulics hissed and sighed as it rolled closer. Will saw the appendage extend towards him, and heard the connector lock into the port on his back, causing the Exo to jostle. Immediately, the entire Exoskeleton stiffened—the steppers, servos, and pneumatics energized. It had come to life. Fear began to eclipse Will's curiosity as he now realized he was just along for the ride.

  "Slack the crane cables," Coates commanded.

  The winch motors hummed for a few seconds, and the techs disconnected the support cables. He was now suspended from the control arm much like a cockroach stuck on the end of a knife. The appendage elevated him to about fifteen feet above the floor, and turned his body so he was vertical. From this vantage point he could see the entire assembly facility—it was enormous. He saw four other rooms, separated by movable walls, each at least as large as the one he was currently in. Some smaller rooms that housed desks and computers were sectioned off near the perimeters of the larger ones.

  "We need a mechanical systems check," Coates yelled. Nothing happened. After about ten seconds, he cursed and barked the order again.

  "Oh ... sorry, that's me," a tech yelled as he emerged from a small cubical. He trotted over to the cart, plugged in a laptop computer, and typed. A minute later it was set. "We're ready to test."

  "Arms," Coates bellowed.

  Will heard a few clicks on the t
ech's computer and the Exoskeleton went into motion: The arms moved out to the sides until they were level with the shoulders. Then they rotated back and forth, and lowered again to the sides

  "Now, the legs," Coates ordered.

  The legs ran in the air, then moved to the sides, pointed the feet, and then finally moved back to the standing position.

  "Torso and back."

  Will was immediately bent forward, then backward, and then twisted back and forth.

  "Everything checks out," the tech reported.

  "Fine. Let's move to the next phase," Coates instructed.

  Will was exhausted and hungry. Whatever else they were going to do, he wished they'd just get it done.

  *

  After a late dinner, Denise walked against the frigid wind to the Law School, arriving at Jonathan's office at ten minutes to nine. She saw Pam Sorrensen standing at the door, seemingly trying to decide whether or not to knock. Denise approached her and said hello, then led her through the half-open door.

  Jonathan was leaning against his desk and gazing at the ceiling, deep in thought. Denise made some noise as she took off her backpack, and when Jonathan noticed they'd arrived he greeted them and led them to the polished wooden table in the center of the room.

  "Coffee, Ms. Sorrensen?"

  "Please," Pam replied.

  He brought three cups, sugar and cream, and an insulated carafe, all on a wooden tray.

  "So, let's get started," Jonathan suggested as he poured the coffee. "I want to explain the way we approach these cases." He directed his words to Pam. "Unlike the trial, we assume the defendant is innocent."

  Denise held back a laugh. She was fond of the old professor—he was charming, and always a gentleman, but his sarcasm could be cutting. Such statements were usually punctuated with the elevation of one of his gray, bushy eyebrows—but not this time. She knew Jonathan's statement was meant to be taken seriously: she knew he'd concluded that the jurors had made up their minds well before examining all of the evidence, what little there was.