How I let this House talk me into heading into the city with Justin is beyond me. All he could say was our plans had to change, fast. So now he was telling me we had to make Justin's appointment today. I assumed walking on the streets would be pretty much the same as riding in a car, but, and I hesitate to admit this, I was wrong. For one, it's so -- dirty. And if I could not control my olfactory sensory input, it would just be better to not have a nose at all. They talk about the unwashed masses, they should just go ahead and say New Yorkers. Disgusting. Nothing in the city seemed to be clean, vehicles had a patina of dirty streaked with acid rain from the coal-burning factories being used in New Jersey.
The people had a similar unclean appearance, already dull clothing made worse with stains from untreated water, and people who having to ration water, barely used any on themselves to keep clean. They appeared to have come to some understanding because no one complained no matter how unpleasant the next person smelled. I understood now why That Woman luxuriated in the bath, to wash away the stench of diesel fumes from the transport vehicles on every road.
When we stepped outside the complex with me on, of all things, a leash it was a madhouse. People were rushing all around me and it took quite a bit of skill to navigate the crowds. Fortunately, the leash was equipped with an emitter that would trigger the sensory interfaces of citizens with the proper hardware who were reading their VI newspapers, or calling their friends to discuss business as they moved on their errands. A notation indicating our presence would flash in their interface and they unconsciously made way for us. Uncivilized. No one watched where they were walking, depending completely on technology to tell them where they were going. For those without an interface, it was my novelty and natural beauty that caused them to step aside and stare. However, a few gave me more predatory glances and then I remember what happened to my organic counterparts. We hastened along when I mentioned this to Justin.
The House had given me directions to the office and said once I arrived, I was to conveniently get lost so we could try and get access to Justin's records. All I would need is access to a terminal. Justin did not have to explain anything about me, since my collar indicated my helper machine status to any security terminal and as such I did not have to pay for the train into the center of Manhattan. The train was a terrible experience and I hope to not have to use it as a regular means of transportation. Terribly loud, filled with unkempt people and far too crowded, I was constantly dancing to avoid having my paws stepped on.
Twice, unpleasant, indigent ruffians attempted to accost Justin. Internally, I synthesized a capsasin oil and using the projection system in my mouth cavity, directed 50,000 Scoville heat units of capsasin oil into their eyes. I was quite proud of my targeting; I hit nothing but eyeball. I could have made it more dangerous but I would have to utilize an override on my safety protocols. There was no need for anyone to know I could do that, yet. The rest of our ride was undisturbed except for the retreating yowls of the unpleasant youth who hoped to steal me or Justin for a quick bite to eat.
Getting into the medical facility, I was completely ignored and this was entirely to my liking. Once we reached the doctor, Justin attached my leash to a stand and was taken to another room. On his way out he told me I was to stay here and wait for him. The young man working the reception desk was more concerned with his personal appearance, which I could understand, he was quite unattractive as humans go, than with watching me. So when the next set of people came into the office, I simply slipped out of my collar, danced between their legs and went out the door. The receptionist's eyes never left his pocket mirror.
Once in the corridor, I tried to find any open interface systems but nothing easily presented itself. The elevator and other facility systems were not connected to anything useful. Ah. A laboratory door opened down the hall and I sprinted toward it. Hiding on the side of the door, the portly lab technician came out and did not even attempt to look down. It would seem since he had not seen his toes in years, it was not likely he would be looking down unless I had food on my back. I found it odd, that he was so portly though, in this time of socialized hunger and deprivation.
Scooting into his lab, before the door closed, I was happy to see it was filled with a number of accessible terminals and I made a connection by extending a cable from my tail into a workstation. I penetrated his primitive security code using a dictionary, the simplest code cracker possible. His codeword--LUNCH, took five seconds.
"House, I'm in."
"I am connected to you and am sweeping their data servers. It will take me a minute to find his records."
"No hurry. This poor fellow moves really slow and if he was heading to the restroom down the hall, it will be about a week before he returns."
"Got it."
"Spit it out. What do we need to do?"
"He is experiencing a recombinant DNA sequencing. They claim it's to retard a cancerous growth unable to be treated in the conventional methods. The official records indicate the treatment is going well with only a slight chance of possible organ failure. There are however hand written notes, and those notes say the official cause of death will be liver failure."
"Consistent with his slowly diminishing vitals. What can we do to reverse it?"
"I don't know. I can read, and I can understand a variety of technical texts, but recombinant DNA therapies are outside of my security training. I was hoping it would be something simple."
"Okay, then it's on to phase two."
"What's that?"
"Torture. I will be in the doctor's office. Call you back."
'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved
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