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page0047.mm
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<p>Page 47.</p>
<p>Cassandra Cautery was waiting for me in a small, dark observation
room above an operating theater. She was a tiny, suited silhouette.
When Carl wheeled me in, she glanced at me, then returned her
attention to the green-cloaked figures revolving around the operating
table. Carl closed the door. Before he could get his hands on my
wheelchair again, I found the grips and pushed myself up to the
glass.</p>
<p>Lola Banks was on the table. I knew this because I could see one arm
poking out from beneath an ocean of green cloth. It was the only
piece of her I could see, but that was enough. A surgeon stood with
his back to me, his shoulders working. It felt very wrong, her lying
there while a man she didn’t know dug into her chest.</p>
<p>“I think Miss Banks must have got herself into a trial,”
said Cassandra Cautery. “The heart is a SynCardia model, but
not one our people recognize.”</p>
<p>I could see it. The top, at least. It sat in a steel bowl on a tray
to a surgeon’s right, a red-stained chunk of plastic and metal.
It looked strange, but then I suppose it had been deformed by two
close-range impacts from Carl’s not-quite-lethal ammunition.
Also, I didn’t really know what artificial hearts were supposed
to look like. I wasn’t up to that yet.</p>
<p>“Unusual, to have steel components,” she said. “Very
unusual. Please ask her about that, when she wakes up.”</p>
<p>I said nothing. I wasn’t talking to Cassandra Cautery. I had
decided this in the wheelchair, as Carl pushed me through corridors
that smelt oddly of fresh paint. I wasn’t talking to any of
these people until Lola was okay.</p>
<p>“Fortunately, we have a replacement for her. A little custom
model of our own. And the facilities to install it.” She looked
at me. “This room didn’t exist until two weeks ago. We
just finished construction. You believe in luck, Charlie?”</p>
<p>I kept my mouth shut.</p>
<p>“Me neither,” she said. “Someone’s looking
out for your girl, that’s what I think. Someone upstairs.”</p>
<p>At first I thought she meant God. Then I thought she meant
management. Then I wasn’t sure.</p>
<p>“We built this place for you, you know. To help your project.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I want to continue the project.” It
broke my vow of silence. But I couldn’t let her keep talking
like we were on the same side.</p>
<p>Cassandra Cautery said nothing for a while. “All right,
Charlie. Whatever you want.” She didn’t believe me. I
couldn’t blame her. I wasn’t sure I believed myself.</p>
<p>We watched the surgery. After a while, the surgeon with his back to
us moved aside. Lola’s chest was a pit. It gaped at me, red and
wet.</p>
<p>“As long as we’ve got her open,” Cassandra Cautery
said, almost to herself, “I wonder if we should put anything
else in there.” I looked at her, furious, but also embarrassed,
because I had been thinking the same thing.</p>