Copper Visions (7 page)

She propped Sophie's head up enough to let her drink the water. It felt so good sliding down her dry throat, reminding her just how thirsty she was. Wincing as she took a deep breath, Sophie nodded to David.

“I'm ready,” she said. “But my ribs hurt. I don't think I can sit up.”

Mrs. Hobbes felt gently at her side and nodded. “We thought he might have cracked a rib last night. Nothing for it but to let it heal. You'll have a bit of a hard time getting around today, I think, though I suspect that would have been the case anyway.”

“We'll prop you up as we lean you forward. Maybe a chair to lean her on, Mrs. Hobbes?” David suggested.

“I know just the one. Don't move her until I've got it,” Mrs. Hobbes said and hurried out of the room.

“I'm sorry for being such a burden, David,” Sophie said. “I didn't really know what was going to happen when I came looking for help.”

“You're not a burden yet, Sophie, and I'll let you know when you are. I'm actually surprised you came to me, considering our last encounter. I didn't think you would consider me a friend.”

“It was my pride more than anything that was hurt,” she said. “I knew you didn't mean me harm and that's something I can't say about most of the people I know. The girls from the mine think I'm bad luck, my family has disowned me because I scare them, I scare the people who live near me, too. Then you come around, poking at everything, treating me like an experiment, and acting like I'm just like anybody else.”

“I've been told my bedside manner could use some improvement,” David said, pulling his lips into a grin. It was the first time she'd seen him actually try to have an expression instead of just animation.

Mrs. Hobbes bustled back in, carrying a chair and a pair of scissors. “Yes, and more than once,” she said, setting the chair down. “And I'm sure you didn't think of how we're going to get her shirt down to look at the device on her back, did you?”

David blinked at her and then at Sophie. “I confess, I did not. I had assumed we would be able to simply take them off the way they were put on but that may prove more complicated than I had initially thought.”

“Was everything you owned in that bag?” Mrs. Hobbes asked. When Sophie nodded, she shook her head. “Well, I'm going to try and save what I can but we may have to sacrifice this shirt. The Professor here will replace it if we have to.”

“I will?” David asked.

“You will,” Mrs. Hobbes said. “And without complaint. You've been wanting to get a look at what's under this girls shirt for a while now.”

Sophie giggled. “Thank you, Mrs. Hobbes.”

“You're welcome, dear. Now, we're going to tip you forward. I'll hold you steady as the Professor moves you and props you on the chair. I think the best place to put the chair back out be just a little below her shoulders, Professor, and then we'll see about getting you undressed. I think it'll be better to unbutton what I can before we move you, if you'll permit me?”

“Of course,” Sophie said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not that I can see,” Mrs. Hobbes said. “Just don't fight us and don't tense up as you move. You'll hurt yourself and I don't want to take the chance of dropping you.” Her fingers unbuttoned the vest quickly and pushed it back, pulled the shirt out of the waist band of the skirt and loosened that, as well. She held Sophie as David tipped the chair down from it's reclining position and held her middle as he pushed her shoulders forward and laid them gently on the chair. The position was awkward and pulled the muscles in her back slightly but Sophie tried to relax and let them do all the work of moving her torso around.

While Mrs. Hobbes tried valiantly to remove Sophie's clothes without ruining them, or at least move them down enough to see what needed to be seen, in the end they used the scissors. Sophie was surprised to see tears fall on the pieces of cloth Mrs. Hobbes laid in front of her with a sympathetic pat.

David was focused entirely on what the removal of the clothes had displayed. “This is fascinating,” he said, leaning in closely and tapping gently on a clear glass tube. “But Sophie, you seem to be in trouble.”

“
We already knew she was in trouble, Professor,” Mrs. Hobbes said, moving around to where she could see Sophie's back. “Oh.”

“Yes,” David agreed.

“You said the serum is green, Sophie?”

“Yes, a bright green,” Sophie said. “What's wrong?”

“You can see the residue at the top, see?” David said, addressing Mrs. Hobbes.

“Then all that is,” Mrs. Hobbes trailed off.

“Yes,” David said and stood up. “We need a cab. As much as I hate to do this, we have to get Sophie down to see the doctors. I don't know enough about this to fix it, and I don't know anything about the serum.”

“I'll send for a cab right away,” Mrs. Hobbes said, hurrying out of the room again.

“Have them ask for George,” David yelled after her. “Sophie, I need you to tell me everything you remember about your arms. I know you don't know a lot of the technical details but just about anything you know is going to be helpful.”

“I don't remember,” Sophie said, her brow furrowing.

“Anything, Sophie. Start with the accident. What do you remember about that?”

She thought for a moment. “The wood was rotten. It was bad when they put it in but the steam that goes down the tunnels from the engines, that makes it too hot to wear much and too damp to see sometimes, it gets into the wood and it's supposed to be replaced. It kept getting pushed off, said they'd do it with the next shipment, cause the last shipment has been used for something. Houses, I think. We worked in lines, in pairs, sifting ore and dirt from what the engines dug out and filling the carts to go back up. The walls started to fall, and the ceiling. I was closest to the entrance and only half-buried. Someone told me I had my arms above my head, they were the only thing that kept me alive long enough to dig out, that and the cart had fallen over and covered part of me.

“I remember waking up in the hospital and trying to breathe. Or maybe that was a dream? One of those ones you have when you dream that you're drowning? I may have dreamt it after the surgery, when I was alone in the hospital. I remember hearing the doctors say there was no point in waking me up, the damage was done and I would die if they didn't put them in before I started healing. There was gas, I think, something sweet and when I woke up, I was having trouble moving. I was strapped to a table but my whole body felt light, like if I moved to fast I'd float away.

“A doctor came in. Or maybe he was there already and just waiting for me to wake up? But, no, they had nurses who did that. Sat in a chair and listened to me breathe, reading when she thought I was asleep. But, I think I was asleep. I was tired a lot when I was in the hospital, even when my body was too light to move. The doctor said it was normal, I was healing, and they were giving me something to make that go faster. They attached my arms when I was sleeping. I mean, the rocks crushed everything, my collarbones, my shoulders, my arms so they must have put in the biggest parts when they first pulled me out of the mine, right? Replaced my collarbone and shoulder and then they added the rest of the parts as I got better. My arms made me feel like I wasn't going to float away. It felt like they used up the part of my brain that didn't want to be there.

“Does any of that make sense, David? Once I had my arms on, they started teaching me how to use them. My back felt odd, at first, but I got used to it. The doctor would come in every three days or so with a big tube of the bright green serum and put it in my back. I think... I think they were trying to figure out how often they needed to do it at first. I would get so tired, sometimes, and things would start to hurt.”

“What things would hurt, Sophie?” David asked.

“My head and my back, they would feel like I couldn't move, like if I did they would fall off, like the life was slowly going out of them. Sleeping helped but not always, and not after a while. They went a week once, a whole week, to see what would happen. I don't want to do that again, David.” Tears began to stream down Sophie's face at the memories.

“You won't, Sophie,” David said. “Not if I can help it.” He looked up to see Mrs. Hobbes crying quietly in the doorway, holding one of his shirts.

Mrs. Hobbes shook herself and walked into the room saying, “I've sent for the cab, Professor, and I've got one of your shirts for her. You're bigger than she is so I think we can make it work. The sleeves will have to go, of course, or they'll get caught in the moving pieces, and we'll have to be careful of how we tug but we should be able to get her in it.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hobbes. I appreciate the effort. Now, Sophie, let's get you dressed and go out and see George.”

“You're going to take me to the doctors, aren't you? At the private hospital.”

Mrs. Hobbes was making quick work of the shirt and David looked Sophie directly in the face. “I don't see that we have any choice, Sophie. They have the serum and we have no idea how to duplicate it. We don't even know what it's made out of, unless they ever talked to you about it?”

“No, they'd ask questions, about how I felt and if I remembered anything from when I slept. The serum always made me sleep and I'd wake up feeling like I was floating. They changed out my nurses a lot, said they couldn't stand to be around me, that my arms made them nervous.”

“Weak, the lot of them,” Mrs. Hobbes snorted.

“I wonder if it wasn't your arms that unnerved them but the visions,” David mused. “If you were having visions rather than falling asleep after they administered the serum, it would make many people nervous, wouldn't you think, Mrs. Hobbes? Especially if there was some notion that the means of movement of your mechanical arms was somehow caused, or inspired by, the demonic?”

“Superstitious fools, then, and weak,” Mrs. Hobbes said and helped David lean Sophie back in her chair. “It's a miracle she was alive at all. That doesn't happen if there's evil in it, Professor, even if there's people willing to use it for that.”

“You've seen that kind of thing, then?” Sophie asked as Mrs. Hobbes leaned down to button the shirt closed.

“I've seen enough to believe that there's more here than us,” Mrs. Hobbes said. “And that the human body is a miraculous thing. Now, when you get there, you listen to what the doctor says. Not just what he wants you to hear but what's going on. I'm not sure they'll tell the Professor anything and it's all to the good if you know more about your arms.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Sophie smiled.

“I'll go wait for the cab and let you know when it's here. You'll want to go directly, I'm sure, Professor?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hobbes,” David said. She stood up and left the room in the quick, graceful way Sophie was getting used to watching her move.

“I will never be able to move like that woman,” Sophie said, watching her go.

“Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. That's just for company, I've watched her practice it in front of the mirror.”

“You have not,” Sophie smiled. “I'll bet she's a good assistant.”

“She is,” David agreed. “And she would tell you she's just good enough to keep up but she knows more about the practical side of human anatomy than most doctors I've met.”

“Why does she call you professor?”

“I was a guest lecturer at the Hall of Science after I arrived here. I'm something of an expert in a very specific subject,” David said.

“Automatons and mechanical limbs?” Sophie asked.

“No, arachnids and insects,” David said. “Of course automatons and mechanical limbs. I was the first one created and from the first moment I opened my eyes, I was given an education that would be difficult to rival in even the most advanced university. I was offered a position as lecturer at more than one university around the country but I chose instead to focus on my research. Mrs. Hobbes approached me after the lecture at the Hall of Science to offer her services as housekeeper if I would also agree to make her my assistant.”

“Oh,” Sophie said, blushing slightly. “But, wait, if you weren't created here, where were you created?”

Mrs. Hobbes hurried into the room. “The cab's here and he knows where he's going.”