Growth and Loss
15 Apr 2018Gmanharmon
10 April 3304LHS 20 System
22:06
The headaches are finally gone.
For the first time in a long time, I had my first restful night of sleep, in a real bed with real cotton sheets, and hadn’t been awoken by intense, stabbing pain behind my eye or a massive nosebleed. No more pills, no more blurry vision, no more voices.
It seemed like an eternity ago that the vengeful prick of a Pilots Federation medical officer shoved a malfunctioning cybernetic eye in my skull to get cleared for my license, and for the longest time I just learned to live with the nosebleeds and splitting headaches. But after nearly collapsing in a bar in the Inara system, I decided enough was enough. When I returned to LHS 20 after getting in the good graces of the Federal Navy, I pulled rank and got admitted into the Haldan Keffer Hartline Opthalmology Clinic in Ohm City. The doc there took one look at my implant and clucked like a hen.
“Who put that awful thing in there?” I told him the name. “No wonder. He’s still a quack, trying to get those quotas for the Pilots Fed by hook or crook. What was his quote for an actual prosthesis?”
“A hundred thousand credits, and being his package boy until I paid it off.”
“Smart move. Rumor is he’s into the underground slave trade. Beyond that, I can’t tell you.”
“So then, doc, what’s your offer for a new peeper?”
“Ten million, flat.” I was surprised at how quick he quoted a price. I was even more surprised at how quick I responded.
“Deal. I want a new eye.”
“Let’s get to OR.”
I’ll spare the grisly details of the procedure, but suffice it to say I had a fish tank bolted to the left side of my head for a week and a half while my new peeper was growing. After it matured, I needed an extra week for it to calibrate and sharpen. Lots of stumbling about occurred during the transition, and lots of morphine was administered, but it was finally over.
With my new eye, I could see just as clearly as ever. It felt like a whole new me. And, in keeping with the theme, I stopped at a barbershop and treated myself to a shave.
I was on top of the world. A new man, a new life. I ran to my Anaconda and filed a flight plan to Asellus Primus, eager to show Brenna.
As I maneuvered the Constitution to align with the access corridor and prepared to make way, my holofac started chirping. Brenna was calling me. I took my hands off the controls and answered.
“Hey, baby! I’m just about to fly out and see you. You won’t believe—” I stopped. She was sobbing on the other line.
“John?” she said, her voice quivering. “It’s Daddy. He’s dead.”
The Constitution hung there, in the middle of the Coriolis, unmoving. I had less than two minutes to exit the station before the defense emplacements would turn me into dust. The flight controllers were screaming bloody murder in my headset, urging me to move.
I couldn’t.