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CHAPTER 10:
. . . But What Am I?

National Weather Service, Roanoke, Virginia

@NWS_ROA
Tornado Warning. NWS Roanoke is reporting a tornado one mile west of downtown Mount Airy, North Carolina. The funnel is reported to be on the ground and moving east northeast at five miles an hour . . .

ChirpChat, June 2041



“Someone’s hurt.” Glenn turned to the café manager. “I’m a doctor. I’ll need some help in case we have to extract anyone. If you can get someone to help Nik and take his chair out to the dining room, I’ll get started clearing a path.”

The screams repeated, and at least one sounded quite close.

“We need to hurry.”

The café manager assigned one of his servers and a customer to help Nik and also told Chuck, the short-order cook, to help Glenn. The windows in front of the café were completely blown inward. Broken glass crunched under foot, and tables and chairs were jumbled against the wall separating the dining room from the kitchen. Glenn grabbed a chair, turned it back upright, then sat to attach his leg braces.

There was a sign in the middle of the dining room that said Polly’s Treasures. Glenn vaguely thought it belonged on a shop that had been across the street. He stood and made his way to the door to look out onto the street. Their van was still there but the side was severely dented right at the sliding door. It was going take time and leverage to get that open. Fortunately, they didn’t need that door other than for convenience in putting the wheelchair in. The van itself looked okay as far as the windows and other doors were concerned, but there was something sticking out of one tire—which was starting to go flat.

In front of the van was a brand-new electric auto-drive sedan from that company started by one of the MarsX investors. It was facing the wrong way, and hadn’t been there when they’d entered the café. It was rolled almost completely over onto its roof and blocked the sidewalk.

The screaming came from the front seat.

The trunk of a tree protruded from the battery compartment; the car was edged up against another tree, and it was unclear if other branches were protruding into engine or passenger compartments.

They needed to work fast. Damaged batteries were usually bad news.

A young woman was in the driver’s seat, hanging upside down from her seatbelt. Glenn could see a child in a car seat directly behind her. There was a pile of toys and blankets cluttering the other side of the car, and he could see a small hand sticking out of the pile. The hand was moving, and there were muffled cries coming from under the pile.

The woman was screaming, but not in pain or about herself, but about her children. “Save my babies! Save my babies! Get my babies out of here! Someone, help us!”

Glenn and the cook ran over to the car.

“Ma’am, I’m a doctor. Can you hear me?” Glenn asked the woman and received a strained “yes” and a muffled scream in response.

“Ma’am, how many people in your car?” He could see an infant, and probably one child, but getting the driver to answer was an extremely important part of a first-responder’s Q&A.

“My babies!”

“How many, Ma’am.”

“Two,” she gasped. “Six months and 3 years.”

“Very good. We’ll get them out. Where were they sitting?”

“Russell’s in the baby seat behind me. Cheryl Ann was in a booster on the other side, but she likes to slip out of the shoulder strap.”

That answered that. She’d fallen out when the car turned over, and was under the pile on the other side. The hand had been joined by another, and he could see a hint of blonde hair.

The airbag had deployed and was hanging limply from the steering yoke, so he could skip the next part of the checklist. Also, the car was electric, so he shouldn’t have to worry about leaking fuel.

“Do you have any alcohol or flammable liquid in the car?”

“What? I WASN’T DRINKING!”

“Yes, Ma’am, I believe you. I just need to make sure if there is risk of fire before we pull you and your babies out.”

“Oh.” She tried to shift in her seat, and yelped in pain. “Get me out of here, please hurry!”

“We’ll do that right now. Can you move your arms and legs? Are you stuck or trapped anywhere? Any sharp pains in your neck?”

“Yes. No. No. Please!”

“Right away, Ma’am. Just try to stay still.”

The driver’s door was stuck and the passenger door was jammed up against a tree. If need be, they could come in from the rear door once they’d extracted the infant, but he decided to apply some force to the door first. He grabbed the handle with his right hand and had no luck. He switched to his left hand, thinking to simply exert more force, but pulled the handle off of the door.

Oh, that was smart! Yeah, how am I going to get the door open now? He put his left hand on the top of his head and rubbed back and forth for a moment.

The cook was trying to get the back door open. He’d gotten it to move a bit so that at least he could reach in around the broken glass. The infant was still strapped into the car seat, which was in turn still strapped to the rear seat. If either restraint was released, the child would risk dropping onto the broken glass.

Glenn turned to the young man as he made his decision. “Take it easy Chuck. Don’t try to do that by yourself. I’ve got to get this lady out, so grab someone else from the café, have them undo the straps while you hold the child. Oh, and grab some towels we can use to support her neck.”

Chuck ran back to get someone else to help.

Other people were filtering out into the street, so Glenn called out to the crowd, “I need a crowbar or jack handle to get this door open.” The manager of the café said he had one in his car, and also sent the other server back in to grab some tools from the cleaning closet.

Glenn turned back to the driver and reassured her. “Ma’am, don’t worry, we have help here and will get your baby out. I need you to shift yourself away from the door as much as possible so that I can pry it open. This is going to get a little bit messy.”

Glenn looked up at a shout of dismay from the café manager—his car was currently under a tree, and the server had come back with a wooden mop.

“That won’t do. Well, anything else will take too much time.” He put the fingers of his left hand right at the edge of the door frame and commanded the bionic muscles to curl with as much force as they could exert. It would damage the SymSkyn outer covering, but the composite and carbon-fiber structure would punch a hand-hold right into the door. He started leaking fluid from his lacerated fingers, but it didn’t matter now, he had his opening. This time when he pulled the door frame, it not only came free but separated from the hinges and flew halfway across the street. The lady screamed again in shock at seeing the sheer amount of force he’d exerted.

“Well. You don’t see that every day.” Glenn whirled at the voice behind him and saw a law enforcement officer in green slacks and tan shirt. He had a seven-pointed star on his chest and a nametag that read “Atkins.”

“Ah, sorry about that. Sheriff . . .” Glenn paused, and the man nodded. “. . . Atkins.”

“The kid said you needed these?” Atkins handed him the towels.

“Oh, good. Let me roll this up and brace her neck. Then, if you would work the seatbelt, I’ll make sure this young lady doesn’t fall.” He turned back to address the trapped woman. “Hold onto the steering wheel. We’re going to unbuckle you, and you’ll drop down a bit. I’ll catch you and help you climb out.” With his damaged left hand, he reached in to grab her around the midsection while the sheriff undid the buckle.

The lady’s eyes went wide when she saw his hand. “What did you do to yourself?”

“It’s an artificial hand. Not a big problem. It will be okay.”

“Okay . . . yes, if you say so.”

He placed his flesh and blood hand back on the lady’s shoulder. The fingers of his left hand were stiff; he’d damaged the servos yet again, but it was worth it. Marty would understand; DARPA probably wouldn’t—although they should. It was a military thing, not leaving an injured person in danger. About the time he had the woman most of the way out of the car, Chuck came back to extract the infant, car seat and all.

“It’s okay, ma’am, we got the baby out. He’s right here. We need to get the two of you inside the café. The power’s out, but at least it’s out of the rain. I’m a doctor and I’ll have a look at those cuts.”

“But my daughter—my daughter’s in there. She’s on the other side.”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s next, we’ll have to move things around to get to her, though.”

The sheriff and one of the café patrons helped the woman move away from the car while Glenn took a closer look at the back seat. This was going to be tricky. A blanket and stuffed teddy bear had fallen atop the child when she slipped from her booster seat. The hand that had been sticking out from under the pile was no longer moving.

Once again, they needed to hurry. The child could suffocate. Unfortunately, that side of the car was wedged against a tree and he couldn’t access the girl from here. They needed to turn the car over.

“Hey, Nik!” His friend had come out into the street to assist when Chuck and server had returned. He motioned him over, then beckoned the sheriff to join them.

“We’re going to have to turn this over. My buddy Nik has plenty of upper body strength, and I’ve got the lower, plus leverage, so we might be able to do this ourselves.”

“Nope, not a chance with me in this chair, Shep. Plus, you need to brace it to keep it from rolling back. What about your Exo?”

Glenn grimaced. “Sorry. In the van, Nik. There’s a great big dent in the side; I don’t think that door is moving, not anytime soon. Any other suggestions?”

Atkins tilted his head. “Most of my boys are answering other calls right now, but if we can get some more volunteers from the shops, we’ll do this together.”

“That will work. Can we get some blankets or pillows to stuff in there so that the kid doesn’t fall on any sharp edges?”

“I have throw pillows in my shop,” a voice called from over his shoulder.

“How far away is it?”

“It’s right here. I’m Polly.”

“Oh, Polly’s Treasures. I think your sign is over in the café.”

“I wondered where that went. Thanks.” Nik had wheeled back toward the café, and the sheriff was talking to some of the bystanders to rally additional help. The volunteers came over and lined up to push on the upper side of the car. A few maneuvered around to grab the underside, but Glenn waved them away. “Too dangerous. If you get caught, you can get hurt pretty bad.” He reached down and locked his leg braces at knees and hips, then sent the mental command to lock his bionic knee joints. That way the weight would travel directly through the titanium exoskeleton and ceramic composite bones. He reached up, at first with his left hand as the weight of the car started to come over, then turned his hand to grab the edge and gently lower the car onto the ground.

“Let someone help you with that. You can’t take the weight of that all by yourself,” Atkins said. “That’s too much; you’ll hurt yourself.”

Glenn slapped the leg exoframe with this right hand, then tapped his left forearm. “This is all prosthetic. I’m not shouldering all the weight by myself,” Glenn assured the sheriff.

“If you say so, buddy, but we don’t have a big hospital in town. You have to go into Winston or Charlotte and the ambulances are going to be pretty well tied up. I don’t want you hurting yourself, man. Not on my watch.”

Not on my watch. That certainly sounds familiar, Glenn thought to himself as he began to feel the weight of the car. He shifted his stance and the strain built up across his shoulder and chest muscles. The weight of the car hung from his bionic hand and arm as long as he had a stable foundation from hips and legs. He didn’t even have to support the whole weight, just to slow it down enough so that the car didn’t topple, bounce or roll.

Damn that hurt. He could feel every point of attachment between artificial and natural tissue and bone. Fortunately, it was only momentary and they got the car rolled over and gently lowered to the ground.

“Pretty impressive,” Atkins said. “Like I said, that’s just not something you see every day. Did this . . .” He gestured vaguely at Glenn’s legs. “. . . happen to you in the war?”

“Astronaut, actually. It was a trainer crash and fire.”

“Well, that makes sense, I guess. I’ve seen some of the stuff they’re doing with artificial limbs . . . but damn, dude!” He paused, and a funny expression came over his face. “Oh, man, you’re leaking.”

Glenn looked down at his legs. The cloth over his knees was wet and drops of lubricant were running down his forearm. The SymSkyn of his hand was split open and he could see some of the exposed bone and actuator structure.

Whoops, Glenn thought.

“Hey, yeah, we need to get this door propped open.” Two of the volunteers were trying to get the door open and get the child out of the now-upright car. “It keeps swinging closed and it’s hard to open more than a few inches. Someone, get me a crowbar.”

The child wasn’t crying, and that worried Glenn. He looked around, several people had moved off, perhaps to get crowbars or jack handles, but there wasn’t much time.

To hell with it—he was definitely going back in the “body and fender shop” after this. What was a little more stress on his artificial bones?

“Hang on, buddy. I’ll give you something to prop the door.” Glenn reached down to release the leg brace, but it wouldn’t budge. Instead, he pressed the point on the side of his knee that released the magnetic gimbal. The entire lower half of his right leg—brace and all—separated at the knee and hung loose in the trouser leg. He pulled the pants leg up and removed the artificial limb. Balanced on one leg, he hopped over to the car, pulled the door with his left arm, and wedged his prosthetic leg into position. He pictured flexing his foot, and the prosthetic rotated downward at the ankle, wedging the door open. “Okay, I think you can reach in there now. That should hold.”

The cook and several of the helpers stared at him with wide eyes. There was a muffled scream.

“. . . and I think that’s my cue to exit. I will be over in the café providing medical assistance.”

Glenn turned his upper body and hopped a little to get his orientation facing across the street. Well, he’d experienced worse during rehabilitation; this was exactly why Keith had had him practice hopping and maintaining balance on one bionic leg at a time. He hopped over to the café where somebody had turned the tables and the chairs back upright. He grabbed a table to steady himself, reached over, pulled out a chair and sat down.

This didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. He looked at this wristcomm; there was a message on the screen from Nik’s friend Cathy saying that they’d been turned back at a road blocked by a fallen tree. They were okay, though, and did they want to just meet at their place, instead?

Considering the state of the town, the van, and his own need for repairs, that probably wasn’t going to happen. Neither was the visit to Sally and Hoop. Glenn hit the speed dial. “Hey Marty,” he spoke into the phone once it was answered, “oh, it’s been good so far but we’ve had a thing.”

He paused to listen and sighed at Marty’s tone. “Yeah, I’m going to need some help—taken a bit of damage.”

After another pause, he held the comm away from his ear. Nik looked up from checking over the child that had just been rescued, and grimaced at the shouting voice that could be heard from the device.

Glenn put the comm back to his ear and spoke calmly. “Oh, no. No, I didn’t start it. I was trying to help someone. I’m sure you’ll be reading about the tornado in the news . . . Yes, tornado. Do tell General Boatright that I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean for it to happen this way, but he should understand not letting innocents take unnecessary risks . . .”

“. . . Marty, please don’t yell.”

“. . . Yeah, okay I’ll stay put.”

“. . . sorry, no, the van is a little banged up. Tornado, remember? Okay we’ll be here.” Glenn hit the disconnect on his phone, put it down on the table and rubbed his eyes with his right hand.


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