It legitimately didn't occur to either of me, Rob... but if it had, I would've rejected the idea, on account of not being in the best mental state. That tends to make fine control a bit more difficult, and I'd rather prefer my arm not achieve escape velocity.
As for the ice issue, CD, two things. First, when I wrote this, I was envisioning my standard barrier jacket, which covers the full limb. The current recommendation for severed body parts is to put them in a plastic bag or something similar, and put that on ice; I'd forgotten I didn't have the jacket there for the 'something similar'- it'll be fixed for the SB edit. Second, the intent was that I wasn't thinking too clearly, and sort of overreacted... but because of the barrier jacket, managed to do the right thing anyway... so that sort of fits.
**********
For the second time that day, a body pushed open the door to Daimler's bounty office. The bell on the door pulled his attention away from his video and over to the door... where he saw the unconscious ZIL the Hammer drifting in.
Then he saw me, hugging an armsicle to my chest with my one attached limb, and the smile wilted a bit. "Kid, what happened? Where's Lada... and what the hell happened to you?!"I smiled, and waved my disconnected arm at him as best I could. "Oh, this? 'Tis but a scratch... a massively inconvenient scratch, mind you, but a scratch nontheless." At this, I put on a frown. "Sadly, I wasn't able to get Lada just yet. She was rather... disarming."
Daimler just gave me a flat stare. "Kid, you've gotta get yourself some better puns."
He held the stare for a second, neither of us saying anything. The moment stretched on awkwardly. '...rather disarming?' On second thought, that one really was pretty bad. I looked away, snorting. "It was, wasn't it?"
When he nodded, I had to resist the urge to slap my face with both hands. I should probably get on with this. Best to get this reattached sooner. "Y'know, as much as I'd like to stand around and discuss comedy, I'd rather like to get this-" I said, moving my arm-in-a-block again "-attended to. Was the bounty for the pair, or is there a rate for just one?"
Daimler pulled up a file... a significantly longer version of the one he'd passed me, if I was reading through the back of it correctly- and perused it for a while. "Turns out you're right, kid. Eight hundred credits for just the big guy." He waved at the back door, which opened for me. "You know the drill- take 'im back to a cell and lock 'im in."
So I did, setting my arm down at the front desk, and hovering ZIL back to his new home. When I got back out, Daimler already had the forms halfway filled out- the instant he saw me, he tossed me a couple of them, and turned back to getting the rest finished. Most of it was mental work; for the few bits that weren't, like signing the documents, I found myself profoundly grateful that Lada had gone for my right hand.
Once the bureaucratic wheels had been greased, I quickly got my credits and made for the lab. Not too quickly, mind you- I made sure to be polite, to say goodbye, and to thank Daimler for his help on the way out- but with a certain degree of haste.
As I stood, unpleasantly unclothed, in my own personal jar, I couldn't help but wonder. What's with these jars? Uno said that the other Numbers won't be able to see any details through mine... but she will? Scaglietti will? How does that work?
The jar began to fill, fluid bubbling up from grates in the floor. As the tank filled, my severed arm, now defrosted, floated up with it.
Don't see how they can make a material transparent to some people but translucent to others. I suspect it's naturally transparent, but the Numbers aren't allowed to see through it. But how?I felt myself also begin to float as the fluid reached chest level. It wasn't something I'd done often, in this life or the last, so there was a certain amount of instinctual unease I had to deal with... on top of the oddity of floating off-center.
Holograms exist. That could do it. That, or maybe Uno was lying. I might be fully visible in here.
The fluid level reached my chin. It was moving slower now, probably so I don't bash my head against the top of the jar.
Worse, it could be some sort of visual censor. Here's hoping the doctor didn't do that.The instant I felt warm liquid touch my lips, I was clamping my mouth shut, trying to push myself up out of it, and taking lots of deep breaths through my nose. It took me almost ten seconds to catch what I was doing, calm down, and let myself sink to the middle of the tube.
Still held my breath as long as I could, though... even as I scowled at myself for it. I've done this before, so why the panic? There's no reason for it. Stupid human instincts- they should at least come with an override option.
The jar finished filling- where does the air go?- as I settled down into position, shortly following by the disconcerting feeling of my body slipping out of my control. Looks like the repair cycle started already. Nothing to do now but relax, and think.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
As for the ice issue, CD, two things. First, when I wrote this, I was envisioning my standard barrier jacket, which covers the full limb. The current recommendation for severed body parts is to put them in a plastic bag or something similar, and put that on ice; I'd forgotten I didn't have the jacket there for the 'something similar'- it'll be fixed for the SB edit. Second, the intent was that I wasn't thinking too clearly, and sort of overreacted... but because of the barrier jacket, managed to do the right thing anyway... so that sort of fits.
**********
For the second time that day, a body pushed open the door to Daimler's bounty office. The bell on the door pulled his attention away from his video and over to the door... where he saw the unconscious ZIL the Hammer drifting in.
Then he saw me, hugging an armsicle to my chest with my one attached limb, and the smile wilted a bit. "Kid, what happened? Where's Lada... and what the hell happened to you?!"I smiled, and waved my disconnected arm at him as best I could. "Oh, this? 'Tis but a scratch... a massively inconvenient scratch, mind you, but a scratch nontheless." At this, I put on a frown. "Sadly, I wasn't able to get Lada just yet. She was rather... disarming."
Daimler just gave me a flat stare. "Kid, you've gotta get yourself some better puns."
He held the stare for a second, neither of us saying anything. The moment stretched on awkwardly. '...rather disarming?' On second thought, that one really was pretty bad. I looked away, snorting. "It was, wasn't it?"
When he nodded, I had to resist the urge to slap my face with both hands. I should probably get on with this. Best to get this reattached sooner. "Y'know, as much as I'd like to stand around and discuss comedy, I'd rather like to get this-" I said, moving my arm-in-a-block again "-attended to. Was the bounty for the pair, or is there a rate for just one?"
Daimler pulled up a file... a significantly longer version of the one he'd passed me, if I was reading through the back of it correctly- and perused it for a while. "Turns out you're right, kid. Eight hundred credits for just the big guy." He waved at the back door, which opened for me. "You know the drill- take 'im back to a cell and lock 'im in."
So I did, setting my arm down at the front desk, and hovering ZIL back to his new home. When I got back out, Daimler already had the forms halfway filled out- the instant he saw me, he tossed me a couple of them, and turned back to getting the rest finished. Most of it was mental work; for the few bits that weren't, like signing the documents, I found myself profoundly grateful that Lada had gone for my right hand.
Once the bureaucratic wheels had been greased, I quickly got my credits and made for the lab. Not too quickly, mind you- I made sure to be polite, to say goodbye, and to thank Daimler for his help on the way out- but with a certain degree of haste.
As I stood, unpleasantly unclothed, in my own personal jar, I couldn't help but wonder. What's with these jars? Uno said that the other Numbers won't be able to see any details through mine... but she will? Scaglietti will? How does that work?
The jar began to fill, fluid bubbling up from grates in the floor. As the tank filled, my severed arm, now defrosted, floated up with it.
Don't see how they can make a material transparent to some people but translucent to others. I suspect it's naturally transparent, but the Numbers aren't allowed to see through it. But how?I felt myself also begin to float as the fluid reached chest level. It wasn't something I'd done often, in this life or the last, so there was a certain amount of instinctual unease I had to deal with... on top of the oddity of floating off-center.
Holograms exist. That could do it. That, or maybe Uno was lying. I might be fully visible in here.
The fluid level reached my chin. It was moving slower now, probably so I don't bash my head against the top of the jar.
Worse, it could be some sort of visual censor. Here's hoping the doctor didn't do that.The instant I felt warm liquid touch my lips, I was clamping my mouth shut, trying to push myself up out of it, and taking lots of deep breaths through my nose. It took me almost ten seconds to catch what I was doing, calm down, and let myself sink to the middle of the tube.
Still held my breath as long as I could, though... even as I scowled at myself for it. I've done this before, so why the panic? There's no reason for it. Stupid human instincts- they should at least come with an override option.
The jar finished filling- where does the air go?- as I settled down into position, shortly following by the disconcerting feeling of my body slipping out of my control. Looks like the repair cycle started already. Nothing to do now but relax, and think.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.