WORD COUNT: 1.3k // SUMMARY: In which Olivia wakes up. // ERA: Predebut
In her current situation, it was all she could do. Oh, she could speak, and swallow, and swivel her eyes about behind her bandages to no end, but her arms and legs were limp and lifeless, as weak as an infant's. When she’d first became aware of her situation, there hadn’t been any feeling at all in them, and panic had flared in her chest, hot and stifling, before she’d realized that she wasn’t actually paralyzed.
Her actuators, though, were infallible. They were made of metal, unlike her weak, fleshy limbs, and they could keep moving when her legs gave out underneath her, or when her arms grew too sore to lift. She could see through them, through the cameras mounted on their ends, and through them she could see that she was in a hospital, with a man - Japanese? - watching over her. His pulse had spiked. He's scared.
Her actuators crept over the floor towards her, sliding into her bed, handling her bandaged form with care. They manoeuvred by touch, nosing up her back, until they uncovered a knot of scar tissue at the base of her neck. They left it untouched.
When the microwires re-interfaced with her spine, it felt like coming home.
Who needs weak, badly-designed eyeballs when you could have high-definition, high-quality cameras?
"Mirror," Olivia rasped, and the Japanese man pointed to her right. Her actuators turned to look, and there was a door. Slowly, careful-as-you-please, the harness crackled over her stiff, sore hips, gliding over the gauze, and slotted into place, supporting her spine. The pressure was familiar, applied evenly from her hips all the way up to her ribs (since when could I feel my ribs?), and as her actuators lifted her out of bed and into the bathroom, she saw herself, suspended a foot above the ground, hanging limply from her actuators. She couldn't see a single square inch of skin that was uncovered, apart from around her mouth.
One of her actuators unsheathed a blade (oh, it's dull; I'll have to replace it). The bandages had been applied deliberately and carefully, to apply pressure to her whole head, and as they fell away, Olivia realized just how constricted she'd been.
That realization, however, paled in comparison to her new face.
She had cheekbones, now, and her eyes were larger. Her double chin had vanished, and the spray of acne that had been the blight of her high school years (among other things) seemed to have been wiped from existence. She was bald, though, and her eyes -
"Fuck," Olivia hissed, and squeezed them shut.
"Your eyes haven't been exposed to light in months," a woman said, dryly, from behind her, and one of her actuators spun around. "Take it slow."
"Call me Natsuko," said the woman, who seemed to be as old as Olivia herself. "It’s nice to meet you in person, Ms Choi."
The hospital in which she had been warded was located on the outskirts of a Japanese city, one of the smaller ones. They’d told her the name of the city, but Olivia hadn’t bothered to devote any effort to retaining it. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as though she was the only patient there.
“We use it to house injured personnel,“ Natsuko told her, glancing up from her phone to answer her question, and Olivia nodded absently, sunglasses perched on the bridge of her unfamiliar nose.
Her eyes were still adjusting, as was the rest of her. The doctors said that it was good that she hadn’t tried to walk immediately upon waking up, because her legs wouldn’t have been able to support her weight. They were putting her through a physiotherapy programme in the desolate, hastily-retrofitted underground basement, and it was this programme that she was currently enduring, arms quivering as the treadmill beeped and the electrodes plastered to her scalp fizzled.
“I’m getting stir-crazy,“ she said, between abortive, heaving pants, and Natsuko nodded sympathetically.
“That’s understandable. Honestly, if you weren’t getting a little cooped-up, I’d have been worried.“ She leaned against one of the handrails. “I’ll talk to the doctors. We should be able to let you go out on a few… eh… night-time excursions.“
Natsuko shifted. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something else, actually,“ she began, carefully, and took Olivia’s grunt as permission to continue. “Now, as we understand, there’s a lot of people who are currently searching for you, yes?”
Olivia nodded. Her legs were sore, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be tired of how they pumped and glided beneath her. They’d made her so tall.
“Have you ever heard of the phrase hiding in plain sight?“
“You see, there’s this little project of mine,“ Natsuko muttered, leaning in, and Olivia, intrigued, listened. “Imagine, if you will, being adored by millions. You’d be called upon to film commercials, or to model. You certainly have the looks for it, after all.“
It was a novel concept, to be sure. Olivia had never been adored before. There was a boy in high school who had asked her to meet him behind the bleachers, like in the movies, but that had just been the set-up to a particularly cruel prank. Apart from him…
“Blouses and skirts,“ Natsuko enthused. “Lipstick and mascara. There’d be a full complement of staff whose job it would be to make sure that your every need is met.“
Olivia had never been one for blouses and skirts. She’d always preferred hoodies and sweatpants, baggy clothes that concealed her pudgy figure and allowed her to fade into the background. Now, though…
“Think of it as… oh… making up for lost time.“
“What's making up for lost time supposed to mean?“
“Hmph,“ Olivia grunted. The treadmill was finally slowing down, after an interminable period of time, and she called her actuators to her as it ground to a halt. “And if I say no?“
“Well, according to the terms of our prior agreement, you’ll remain in our employ for a decade or so, producing technology to our specifications.”
Inwardly, Olivia winced. She’d been desperate, exhausted and shaken when she’d signed that contract, all those months ago. (How long has it been? A year? More?) They’d placed it in front of her, and she’d signed it without a second thought. “A decade?“ she repeated, numbly.
“A decade,“ Natsuko confirmed, and as her actuators tramped past the shorter woman, Olivia wondered if it would be wiser to flee in the night and try to make it to China on her own. She discarded the idea almost immediately, of course. “Perhaps more. I’d have to check, of course.“
“Can’t I renegotiate?“ Olivia tried, attempting to hide the sinking feeling in her stomach.
“No.” Natsuko looked as though she might smile, just to rub it in, but her expression didn’t change. As Olivia’s harness tightened over her waist and lifted her off the treadmill, her head tilted upwards to continue looking at her. “Besides, we’ve already delivered on our end of the bargain. We’ve shielded you from your pursuers for the past few months, and we’ve made you unrecognizable. We’ll continue to protect you from them for as long as the contract stipulates.“
Which is more than a decade. What if they come and get me after my time is up?
“And I suppose that if I go along with this enterprise, you’ll reduce my…” Olivia searched for the phrase, “… term of service?“
“We’ll reduce it to five years, but we’ll keep in touch with you for as long as we need to. Just to make sure that you haven’t been brought in or captured, of course.“
That makes it easier to decide.
“I’ll think about it,” Olivia said.
“Please do,“ Natsuko answered, smiling thinly, and left.
