A young man wakes to find himself paralysed from the neck down.
A drunken old man named Went masterminds a cunning digital heist.
An ageing bio-enhanced mercenary past his prime.
An escaped AI that wants a body of its own.
What could go wrong?
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Excerpt
I open my eyes and all I see is blank ceiling. It’s dark and warm, and the curtains are drawn, a womb of artificial dark. In the corner there’s an arm chair with an old guy in it, leaned waaaay back.
His chest moves gently up and down, pulling his roly-poly belly with it. I can hear him breathing. I think he’s asleep.
I try to lift myself up onto my elbows and realize that I can’t move anything below my neck. I try to move any part of my body, every part of my body, but it’s no good.
The old man just sits there, he gives one loud pig-snort snore, wakes himself up. If I hadn’t just discovered that I’m fucking paralyzed, I would laugh.
“Hey, old man, what the fuck?”
He looks up, grunts himself vertical.
“Hey kid.”
“I can’t move my anything, What the fuck is this?”
He leans forward, elbows on knees, and wipes his whole face with his whole hand, and shakes his head in that way you do when your sleep-drunk brain isn’t quite back from la-la-land.
“Don’t worry, it’s a common side effect.”
He reaches and grabs his whisky, or whatever it is. Amber liquid in a crystal glass, what else could it be?
“Should wear off in a couple hours.”
“What do you mean ‘should’ wear off?”
He draws a nonchalant circle in the air with the glass in his hand.
“About one in eight people are paralyzed permanently, but you’re a strong boy, I’m sure you’ll pull through.”
He stands, glass in hand, and comes over to the side of the bed.
“Temporary amnesia is a side effect too, nearly everybody, for a day or two. Nothing to worry about. You’ll remember in due time, son.”
I don’t know who this man is, but I don’t fucking like him. He looks down at me, smiles a drowsy drunk dreamy smile.
“My name is Went. We spoke on the phone two days ago. You were looking for someone to help you with a little\… problem.”
He sits down on the edge of the bed. My entire body is numb, but I can feel the anger burning red on my face.
“What problem?”
He pats me on the arm and I don’t feel it.
“Now, don’t you overdo it, son. You’ll just wear yourself out. And the last thing we want on our little project is the boy genius over-exerting himself. You hungry?”