Action Mann
Action Mann, unfinished, October 2016
The morning sun illuminated the whole bed as if it was a stage. Action took a deep breath as she tried to turn her heavy body to her right, awkwardly. Her right arm didn't move, as expected, and she grunted as she moved back to her previous position.
The moments after she woke up were usually the worst; she could almost believe it was all a dream and she instinctively tried to move her right leg and her right arm, to no response. Some days were worse than others, and considering she didn't wake up screaming or in pain this was shaping up to be a pretty good day.
Action squirmed up her bed, sitting before opening her eyes, as she usually did. She grabbed her right arm and placed her hand on what was left of her right thigh, then pushed a few pillows behind her back. The mobile chirped happily, messages and a whole day ahead of her. She just wanted to throw the mobile out of the window.
She grabbed the long net-like silver glove from the bedside table to her left and carefully put it on her right arm, making sure it was perfectly in place before she tried to move the fingers on her right hand. She still remembered the pain the contraption inflicted the last time haste took the best of her. She didn't feel much as she fits the net on his fingers, but as it's rolling along her arm there is a light electric feeling.
The fingers twitched in command and she sighed. Good. She pulled the glove all the way up, fit her shoulder in, then pulled the straps around her chest, the magnetic buckles clicking softly in place.
Action rubbed her face and started moving towards the edge of the bed, where the prosthetic leg rested. Her daily reminder of her biological rejection to bionic implants.
She groaned as she stood up. The prosthetic leg whined and sighed softly as she moved towards the kitchen.
Coffee. Coffee first.
She was standing in front of the coffee machine when the intercom bleeped. She shook her head, noting she was completely naked, then poked the house control panel.
“Good morning, Action. Are you up?”
“Up and naked.” She growled, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. “I'm not opening the door.”
“You know it's not an issue...”
“You're my doctor, yadda yadda. Fuck you, Dusty. I don't need a doctor, not anymore.”
“You're scandalizing your neighbors.”
“Fuck the neighbors too.”
“The old lady on the second floor would love that.” Dusty voice lowered, and she could hear the chuckle he was trying to bite back. Action laughed, a loud, delighted belly laugh, her whole body arching back. “Stop making excuses, let me in and give me coffee, Action. You know I need to check on you. At least cuss to my face.”
She sipped on her coffee and considered not opening the door for a while. With a sigh she put down the mug and pressed the button on the house controls.
“Doors are open, Dusty. I'm going to the bedroom get a robe. You know exactly how slowly I walk, if you get a glimpse of my ass that's on you.”
“Don't forget to put on some shorts. I need to see how your leg is recovering.” His voice echoes through the house with his chuckle. Action keeps her slow movement to the bedroom.
When Action finally reaches the living room again, much later, she finds Dusty on her open kitchen, pouring himself a mug of coffee.
She stops for a moment, watching him. He was everything she hated right now: perfect. Tall, muscular, blonde, very very healthy looking, tan and all. His arms and legs functioned perfectly. He could hold stuff with his right hand. She looked down to her own right hand and moved her fingers, the net-like contraption glinting lightly over her charred skin.
"Come, A. There's coffee for you too."
"Thank you, Dusty." She wobbled to his side, the mechanical leg sighing softly.
"How are you adapting to the glove?"
"I don't know, man. The hand works, if that's what you're asking. I can't hold much weight, don't think I can fire a gun. I think I can clean my ass and cook, that's all."
"And the leg?"
"It hurts. A lot. Especially the foot and the ankle I don't have anymore."
"I made some research to help you... People called that phantom pain. It is psychological..." Dusty frowned and looked down to the mug, then tapped his big fingers around it. "It is a thing of the past because the technology for prosthetic limbs evolved past it. The new bionic limbs have a neural net that binds seamlessly with the nerves. Nano technology, the works."
"I don't wanna be reminded my body rejected the leg and you had to find ancient technology to help me." Action spat the words, bitter, angry. She looked up to Dusty, her mouth twisted. "I just need to know if there is some painkiller or some cure for this symptom."
"Sorry." Dusty said, his voice low, soft. She looked at his face... Crestfallen was a good word to describe what she saw. She looked at his thick lips, and her mind got lost in the past, in moments when those lips were over hers, brushing against her skin.
"I know." Action rubbed her forehead, then her cheek. The glove was cold and lightly charged, it felt almost like licking batteries. "I need another doctor."
"Don't. Stop right there. You're not pushing me away. What the fuck, Action, nothing changed.”
“Everything changed!” She shouted and slammed her gloved hand on the counter. “The bomb happened! I was half dead! I lost a leg! I couldn't even get a new one, my body rejected the damn implant, and wow, look at that, it never happened before in the history of medicine! I lost the movements on my fucking right arm! My right arm is just dead meat hanging off my torso if I don't wear this fucking glove! I'm right handed, Dusty! I can't even give you a handjob now.” Action threw the mugs on the sink with a swipe of her left arm; one of them broke with the impact. “I can't walk right. I can't move right. This tech is at least twenty years old. It is cumbersome and heavy. Yesterday I fell because the fucking leg locked in place. You wanna know why? I was walking too fast for this shitty leg! Every-fucking-damn-thing changed!”
"Action, none of this changes how I feel about you." Dusty leaned forward, but stepped back. She could see in his eyes the desire to hug her, to soothe her, to smother her pain with kisses. "I still want you. I fell in love with your fiery personality, with your crazy hair, your hard, dark eyes. I love the fact you are this unstoppable force of nature, but you still fit in my arms. That has nothing to do with an arm or a leg..."
"I don't know. This is the kind of shitty event that changes someone to their core. I don't think I'll be the same person when this is over."
"You could at least let me see for myself, don't you think? Hell, I should be a part in this decision... If you still love me."
“I could.” Action lowered her head and sighed, deflated. She rubbed her cheek with her gloved hand again. “I love you, Dusty. I...”
“I hate sounding like a walking cliche, but it's gonna be all right.” He hugs Action slowly, carefully. Her muscles are tense over her back.
The morning sun illuminated the whole bed as if it was a stage. Action took a deep breath as she tried to turn her heavy body to her right, awkwardly. Her right arm didn't move, as expected, and she grunted as she moved back to her previous position.
The moments after she woke up were usually the worst; she could almost believe it was all a dream and she instinctively tried to move her right leg and her right arm, to no response. Some days were worse than others, and considering she didn't wake up screaming or in pain this was shaping up to be a pretty good day.
Action squirmed up her bed, sitting before opening her eyes, as she usually did. She grabbed her right arm and placed her hand on what was left of her right thigh, then pushed a few pillows behind her back. The mobile chirped happily, messages and a whole day ahead of her. She just wanted to throw the mobile out of the window.
She grabbed the long net-like silver glove from the bedside table to her left and carefully put it on her right arm, making sure it was perfectly in place before she tried to move the fingers on her right hand. She still remembered the pain the contraption inflicted the last time haste took the best of her. She didn't feel much as she fits the net on his fingers, but as it's rolling along her arm there is a light electric feeling.
The fingers twitched in command and she sighed. Good. She pulled the glove all the way up, fit her shoulder in, then pulled the straps around her chest, the magnetic buckles clicking softly in place.
Action rubbed her face and started moving towards the edge of the bed, where the prosthetic leg rested. Her daily reminder of her biological rejection to bionic implants.
She groaned as she stood up. The prosthetic leg whined and sighed softly as she moved towards the kitchen.
Coffee. Coffee first.
She was standing in front of the coffee machine when the intercom bleeped. She shook her head, noting she was completely naked, then poked the house control panel.
“Good morning, Action. Are you up?”
“Up and naked.” She growled, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. “I'm not opening the door.”
“You know it's not an issue...”
“You're my doctor, yadda yadda. Fuck you, Dusty. I don't need a doctor, not anymore.”
“You're scandalizing your neighbors.”
“Fuck the neighbors too.”
“The old lady on the second floor would love that.” Dusty voice lowered, and she could hear the chuckle he was trying to bite back. Action laughed, a loud, delighted belly laugh, her whole body arching back. “Stop making excuses, let me in and give me coffee, Action. You know I need to check on you. At least cuss to my face.”
She sipped on her coffee and considered not opening the door for a while. With a sigh she put down the mug and pressed the button on the house controls.
“Doors are open, Dusty. I'm going to the bedroom get a robe. You know exactly how slowly I walk, if you get a glimpse of my ass that's on you.”
“Don't forget to put on some shorts. I need to see how your leg is recovering.” His voice echoes through the house with his chuckle. Action keeps her slow movement to the bedroom.
When Action finally reaches the living room again, much later, she finds Dusty on her open kitchen, pouring himself a mug of coffee.
She stops for a moment, watching him. He was everything she hated right now: perfect. Tall, muscular, blonde, very very healthy looking, tan and all. His arms and legs functioned perfectly. He could hold stuff with his right hand. She looked down to her own right hand and moved her fingers, the net-like contraption glinting lightly over her charred skin.
"Come, A. There's coffee for you too."
"Thank you, Dusty." She wobbled to his side, the mechanical leg sighing softly.
"How are you adapting to the glove?"
"I don't know, man. The hand works, if that's what you're asking. I can't hold much weight, don't think I can fire a gun. I think I can clean my ass and cook, that's all."
"And the leg?"
"It hurts. A lot. Especially the foot and the ankle I don't have anymore."
"I made some research to help you... People called that phantom pain. It is psychological..." Dusty frowned and looked down to the mug, then tapped his big fingers around it. "It is a thing of the past because the technology for prosthetic limbs evolved past it. The new bionic limbs have a neural net that binds seamlessly with the nerves. Nano technology, the works."
"I don't wanna be reminded my body rejected the leg and you had to find ancient technology to help me." Action spat the words, bitter, angry. She looked up to Dusty, her mouth twisted. "I just need to know if there is some painkiller or some cure for this symptom."
"Sorry." Dusty said, his voice low, soft. She looked at his face... Crestfallen was a good word to describe what she saw. She looked at his thick lips, and her mind got lost in the past, in moments when those lips were over hers, brushing against her skin.
"I know." Action rubbed her forehead, then her cheek. The glove was cold and lightly charged, it felt almost like licking batteries. "I need another doctor."
"Don't. Stop right there. You're not pushing me away. What the fuck, Action, nothing changed.”
“Everything changed!” She shouted and slammed her gloved hand on the counter. “The bomb happened! I was half dead! I lost a leg! I couldn't even get a new one, my body rejected the damn implant, and wow, look at that, it never happened before in the history of medicine! I lost the movements on my fucking right arm! My right arm is just dead meat hanging off my torso if I don't wear this fucking glove! I'm right handed, Dusty! I can't even give you a handjob now.” Action threw the mugs on the sink with a swipe of her left arm; one of them broke with the impact. “I can't walk right. I can't move right. This tech is at least twenty years old. It is cumbersome and heavy. Yesterday I fell because the fucking leg locked in place. You wanna know why? I was walking too fast for this shitty leg! Every-fucking-damn-thing changed!”
"Action, none of this changes how I feel about you." Dusty leaned forward, but stepped back. She could see in his eyes the desire to hug her, to soothe her, to smother her pain with kisses. "I still want you. I fell in love with your fiery personality, with your crazy hair, your hard, dark eyes. I love the fact you are this unstoppable force of nature, but you still fit in my arms. That has nothing to do with an arm or a leg..."
"I don't know. This is the kind of shitty event that changes someone to their core. I don't think I'll be the same person when this is over."
"You could at least let me see for myself, don't you think? Hell, I should be a part in this decision... If you still love me."
“I could.” Action lowered her head and sighed, deflated. She rubbed her cheek with her gloved hand again. “I love you, Dusty. I...”
“I hate sounding like a walking cliche, but it's gonna be all right.” He hugs Action slowly, carefully. Her muscles are tense over her back.
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