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syren_ficMore Matrix Fic.
Characters: Dozer, Morpheus, Switch
Time line: 17 years before M1.
Baby Duck
The little girl doesn't have much of a body to rebuild.
The downloads and surveillance footage that Dozer's working with show a wiry, androgynous kid, the kind who, because she flat out refuses to wear pink clothes and dresses, ends up being told repeatedly by her well-meaning kindergarten teach that No, You Have to Use the Little Boy's Room. At least this little girl went by the name Amelia and was spared that particular humiliation.
Then again, maybe this little girl wouldn't have minded fooling her teachers into thinking she was a boy. Kids who unplug as young as this - eleven years old, jesus... They usually have their reasons.
Patiently, and with infinite care, Dozer slides the acupuncture needles into the child's pale flesh, under the bright blue-white of the operating lights.
"How is she?" asks a voice, deep and resonant, from he door.
"She's coming," Dozer answers. He motions with his head for his captain, Morpheus, to come and see the progress.
It's Dozer's first time rebuilding someone's body from scratch and he's a little nervous, even if it only shows up as a more intense form of concentration and slower going when it comes to the spinal operation that will seal off the shunts in the little girl's vertebrae.
Unlike Morpheus, Dozer had to learn the techniques slowly, over years of study, rather than having the knowledge downloaded directly into his brain. He'd known he wanted to be a doctor since he was ten - younger than the child on the table before him - and had been training to it ever since.
He reaches out, carefully, and runs his hand gently over the child's stubbled scalp. Her hair is coming in so fair it's almost white, and Dozer wonders, idly, about the genetic mix the machines used when they concocted her DNA.
He looks at his captain.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" he asks, quietly.
Dozer - whose proper name is Dozaris, which supposedly means 'mighty king' in a language his mother knew before she unplugged at nineteen - isn't the sort of person who asks those questions lightly, not usually. But he had been watching the feed over Glitch's shoulder when Morpheus offered the little girl her choice: A red candy or a blue one.
He'd seen how carefully she had considered her options.
"What do you mean?" Morpheus asks, lifting his eyebrows. "You think she's a fighter?"
At that, Dozer grins.
"Aren't all you people fighters?" he says. "Thought that was how you got out."
Morpheus grins back at him, briefly, acknowledging the truth of his words.
"You know what I mean," he says, sobering once more.
Dozer nods. He looks at the little girl, drugged carefully so that she won't wake during the weeks of surgery.
"My sister's not much older than her," Dozer points out, by way of explanation. He glances at Morpheus. "You think she'll understand that she can't go back?"
"I was fourteen years old when Roland freed me," Morpheus reminds him. "I understood."
"Yeah," says Dozer, who'd known Morpheus for most of the time since then. "But there's a big difference between fourteen and eleven." He remembers the feed images, the bedraggled thing the little girl had clutched in her arms. "This one's still young enough to be missing her teddy bear."
Morpheus looks at the little girl, and his eyes turn soft and sad.
"I believe," he says, quietly, "It was supposed to be a duck."
Characters: Dozer, Morpheus, Switch
Time line: 17 years before M1.
Baby Duck
The little girl doesn't have much of a body to rebuild.
The downloads and surveillance footage that Dozer's working with show a wiry, androgynous kid, the kind who, because she flat out refuses to wear pink clothes and dresses, ends up being told repeatedly by her well-meaning kindergarten teach that No, You Have to Use the Little Boy's Room. At least this little girl went by the name Amelia and was spared that particular humiliation.
Then again, maybe this little girl wouldn't have minded fooling her teachers into thinking she was a boy. Kids who unplug as young as this - eleven years old, jesus... They usually have their reasons.
Patiently, and with infinite care, Dozer slides the acupuncture needles into the child's pale flesh, under the bright blue-white of the operating lights.
"How is she?" asks a voice, deep and resonant, from he door.
"She's coming," Dozer answers. He motions with his head for his captain, Morpheus, to come and see the progress.
It's Dozer's first time rebuilding someone's body from scratch and he's a little nervous, even if it only shows up as a more intense form of concentration and slower going when it comes to the spinal operation that will seal off the shunts in the little girl's vertebrae.
Unlike Morpheus, Dozer had to learn the techniques slowly, over years of study, rather than having the knowledge downloaded directly into his brain. He'd known he wanted to be a doctor since he was ten - younger than the child on the table before him - and had been training to it ever since.
He reaches out, carefully, and runs his hand gently over the child's stubbled scalp. Her hair is coming in so fair it's almost white, and Dozer wonders, idly, about the genetic mix the machines used when they concocted her DNA.
He looks at his captain.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" he asks, quietly.
Dozer - whose proper name is Dozaris, which supposedly means 'mighty king' in a language his mother knew before she unplugged at nineteen - isn't the sort of person who asks those questions lightly, not usually. But he had been watching the feed over Glitch's shoulder when Morpheus offered the little girl her choice: A red candy or a blue one.
He'd seen how carefully she had considered her options.
"What do you mean?" Morpheus asks, lifting his eyebrows. "You think she's a fighter?"
At that, Dozer grins.
"Aren't all you people fighters?" he says. "Thought that was how you got out."
Morpheus grins back at him, briefly, acknowledging the truth of his words.
"You know what I mean," he says, sobering once more.
Dozer nods. He looks at the little girl, drugged carefully so that she won't wake during the weeks of surgery.
"My sister's not much older than her," Dozer points out, by way of explanation. He glances at Morpheus. "You think she'll understand that she can't go back?"
"I was fourteen years old when Roland freed me," Morpheus reminds him. "I understood."
"Yeah," says Dozer, who'd known Morpheus for most of the time since then. "But there's a big difference between fourteen and eleven." He remembers the feed images, the bedraggled thing the little girl had clutched in her arms. "This one's still young enough to be missing her teddy bear."
Morpheus looks at the little girl, and his eyes turn soft and sad.
"I believe," he says, quietly, "It was supposed to be a duck."
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no subject
Date: 2008-01-31 01:30 am (UTC)Also--such a neat viewpoint on Switch. And I like the discussion of the medical stuff, too.
The stuffed duck! *sniffles*
no subject
Date: 2008-01-31 02:13 am (UTC)The stuffed duck - whose name (how creative) is Ducky - is currently stuffed into the back of Switch's supply cupboard in Zion, behind a bunch of sheets and towels. Not the original Ducky - which was a program, clearly - but the one Dozer knitted, carefully and not that well, for her out of bits of old sweater so that she wouldn't be all alone when they dropped her off in Zion. I've already got that scene written. It is, in fact, what prompted this little vignette. ;-)
Re: Viewpoint on Switch: I had wanted to write one from her point of view about jacking out that young, but I found that it was *way* too hard to get into such a young person's head. (It was just a big sprawl of being afraid and wanting to go home and kinda-sorta starting to understand that she wasn't going to be able to - there was a lot of crying and a lot of repetitive stuff. Not great story-fodder, per seh).
no subject
Date: 2008-01-31 06:54 am (UTC)*has melted into puddle of sweet adorableness and sadness for what Switch has lost by being unplugged*
*snuggles Ducky*
no subject
Date: 2008-01-31 10:31 pm (UTC)It wasn't actually a very good copy. Dozer can knit sweaters just fine, but he's not so good at bedraggled stuffed animals - particularly not when he doesn't have the right colours.
But the thought was there, and that counted for a fair bit. ;-)
(If it helps, she also lost an indifferent, absentee mother and an alcoholic father who gets scary when he's mad... That why she jacked out so young. Things Were Not Going Well).