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page0029.mm
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<p>Page 29.</p>
<h5>CHAPTER SEVEN</h5>
<p>A nurse wheeled me out of the hospital to the limo waiting outside.
On my lap was a ziplock bag full of medicines. This was a little
superfluous, given the facilities we had at Better Future, but I
didn’t complain. You don’t say no to a bag full of drugs.
Even I knew that.</p>
<p>Carl, the security guard who hated me, stood beside the limo’s
open door, his hands folded. I don’t know why the company kept
assigning me Carl. It wasn’t like we didn’t have other
security personnel. Carl saw us coming but didn’t move. He
would probably stand there impassively while I clawed and heaved
myself into the limo.</p>
<p>“Thanks for taking care of me,” I said to the nurse. “I
use the word <em>care</em> loosely.” I hadn’t meant to
snipe. I was misdirecting my annoyance at Carl.
</p>
<p>“You’re welcome,” she said. “I hope we never
see you again.”</p>
<p>Carl bent down and scooped me up. I had maligned him unfairly.
“Wait,” I said. I wanted to explain something to the
nurse. “I didn’t crush my leg because I hate myself. I
did it because I have access to prosthetics that are stronger,
faster, and all-round superior to biological parts.” I saw
surprise spread across her face. “You see? It’s not
mental illness. It’s just logical self-improvement.”</p>
<p>Her expression hardened. It was like she hated me more than ever.
“Well, that is unfair,” she said.</p>