Weston pinned his communications chip inside his throat with a couple of well-placed nanobot clots. However, the clots weren't perfect-yet-and couldn't bring the chip back up his throat. Much as he was fond of his Inferior friend Greg, Weston was not sure whether or not his Termination mode would be stoppable if he lost that chip.
Weston balked. "You do realize that my body's internal workings aren't so malleable anymore, right? No, I think it'd be better if I did it." He wheezed, the chip and the clots causing him breathing trouble. If only he'd had some mechanical lungs implanted too, he'd have no problem. Perhaps he'd do that during his next upgrade.
Weston tried to dig the chip out of his throat, using the extensions in his fingers to grope farther down than any mere Inferior could. Alas, it was pointless: the chip was lodged too far down.
Greg, who had been watching Weston stick fingers down his throat, got behind Weston and, without hesitation or permission, pumped Weston's chest.
