Remedy

Bernardo sat across from Dr. Gilliani in a conference room in the same building as the infirmary. Gilliani shifted uncomfortably under Jean's withering gaze, but Bernardo seemed all but oblivious. Jean continued to glare at the junior handler as Gilliani spoke.

"But that's the problem, Jean. It appears to be a normal staph infection, but the bacteria exhibits some strange qualities. Dr. Barzagli has cultured some and has plans to send samples to the World Health Organization, amongst others. The quick incubation period may owe to the bacteria itself, the strange physiology of the cyborgs, or a combination of the two."

"Will she recover?" Bernardo asked.

The doctor hesitated, prompting Bernardo to ask again. "You have to understand, Bernardo... the mechanical bodies aren't like you or I. They don't have fully developed immune systems..."

"But you can repair the damage, can't you, Doctor?" Jean's voice was level.

"Right now I'm waiting for a call from Dr. Bianchi. He's agreed to return as soon as he can. He should be here within a few days..."

Bernardo sensed subterfuge. There was something Gilliani wasn't saying. Jean must have noticed as well because he spoke first, "Why? Do you think Beatrice's condition is bad enough to warrant Dr. Bianchi's early return?"

"Jean, I'm not really a medical doctor by trade... my specialty is artificial limbs and prosthe—"

"What aren't you telling us?" Bernardo growled. He had expected that things would mostly have been taken care of once he'd gotten medical care for Bicé, but Gilliani's unease was contagious.

"She's got pneumonia. It wouldn't normally be fatal for a girl her age, but — as I said — the cyborgs don't really have a normal immune system. The antibiotics might not act fast enough and if the infection gets to her bloodstream she could go into septic shock. We don't really have any experience with how the artificial organs deal with something like this. They may be surprisingly resilient... or they may start to shut down..."

Jean sighed heavily. "You're saying we could lose an operative to a cold?"

Gilliani spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Pneumonia is a leading cause of death among those with deficient immune systems. It's why we screen all the girls weekly. Obviously we need stricter controls and more vigilance from the handlers. And the girls, themselves."

"What can Dr. Bianchi do that you can't?" Bernardo asked. Obviously Gilliani thought there was something to be gained by cancelling Bianchi's trip, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested it.

"Well... Dr. Bianchi heads this project. I wouldn't want to authorize anything without his app—"

"Like what?" Jean snapped, his patience at an end. Bernardo had figured it out, too. Gilliani knew what to do, but he didn't want to take responsibility.

Gilliani folded his hands in his lap and said, "If we replace her lungs and thoroughly eradicate any trace of the bacteria she should be fully operational in a few days."

Bernardo didn't know enough about the innards of the girls, but replacing her lungs sounded drastic. Jean must have had similar questions, because he asked, "What would you replace her lungs with?"

"Beatrice's lungs are original equipment, so to speak. The artificial lungs we've developed — which are quite impressive, if I do say so myself — should work properly in her. We haven't replaced any of the internal organs in any of the stage one cyborgs except when necessary."

Jean interrupted again, "The new lungs are more resistant to disease?"

"Uh... not really, but to be sure she would survive the pneumonia we'd need to drain her lungs directly. It's something we really hadn't covered when we designed the mechanical bodies. If we open her up to drain her lungs we may as well replace them."

"Do it."

"What complications could there be?" Bernardo spoke almost at the same time as Jean. They looked at each other, then back at Gilliani.

Gilliani looked from one to the other, then answered Bernardo, "As with any invasive surgery, there is the slight chance that something could go wrong, but we are professionals, with access to some of the best facilities money can buy. It should be perfectly safe."

"What other options do we have?" Jean asked. He had seemed prepared to authorize surgery, but Bernardo's question gave him pause.

"Well... her lungs have to come out. If the infection enters her bloodstream her chance of survival is slim. We could put her on a ventilator and wait for Dr. Bianchi to get back. He may have a better idea of what to do."

"Then there's no good reason not to operate as soon as possible?" Jean's gaze was level.

Gilliani returned it, unflinchingly, "No, sir, it just wasn't the sort of decision I felt I should make without consulting you."

Jean nodded. "How long until you're ready to operate?"

"Three hours."

"Good. Do it." With those words, Jean left. Gilliani made a curt farewell and went to prepare his team for surgery. Bernardo was left alone with nothing but his sense of foreboding.

As she lay in bed, Beatrice tried not to think of anything in particular. Instead, she focused her thoughts on her own labored breathing. She opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

Priscilla and Angelica were at the door, peering at her with worried looks on their faces. Angelica stepped in and walked right up to her bed, despite the words of warning from the woman behind her.

"Hi, Beatrice," the raven-haired girl said, smiling.

"Hi, Angelica. You shouldn't get so close. I'm contagious."

"That's alright. I always liked when people came to visit me in the hospital, so I came to visit you. How are you feeling?"

"Sick," Beatrice managed, sniffling. The other girl looked at her sympathetically.

"Don't worry. The doctors will make you better. It's what they do," Angelica said with a smile. Beatrice nodded, not wanting to voice her worry with Priscilla listening.

The cyborgs said nothing for a few moments. The silence was broken by the arrival of Bernardo who also chastised Angelica, though she paid him no mind. Priscilla and Bernardo began to talk, just outside the doorway. If Beatrice were well she could've made out the words, but her hearing was suffering as much as her other faculties.

Alone with Angelica for a minute, she leaned forward and asked, "Angelica? Do you... do you ever think about dying?"

If the other girl was in any way uncomfortable with the question, she didn't show it. Instead she nodded and said, "Oh, yes. All the time."

"Oh. Does it scare you?" No sooner had she gotten the words out than she sneezed into her pillow. The first was only the precursor to a second, more powerful sneeze.

Oblivious to the discomfort of the other girl, Angelica's gaze wandered as she thought. "No. Being alone scares me. When I die..." her voice trailed off as she thought of the right words. "As long as Marco is with me I wouldn't mind," she finished, strangely cheerful despite the talk of mortality. "And Bernardo is here," she said, looking back over her shoulder at the two adults talking. "You won't be alone at all." She reached out to squeeze Beatrice's hand and smiled. The simple gesture made Beatrice smile as a tear started to well up in her eye.

His voice was like the crack of a whip, "Angelica."

At the sound of her handler's voice, her eyes widened and she spun around. "Marco!" she exclaimed happily.

"Get over here. I don't want you getting sick, too." She ran to him before he had finished talking. Priscilla just shook her head. "C'mon. Let's go," he said and, with a nod to Priscilla and Bernardo, stalked off. Angelica began to follow. She paused just long enough to look back at the bedridden girl and flash a quick smile, then was gone.

Whatever Bernardo had been talking about, he finished it with, "...which should be soon." He glanced back at his cyborg who stared plaintively at him. "Priscilla, would you mind..."

She nodded, wished Beatrice well and left. Bernardo walked over to the bed, grabbed a nearby chair and sat. The two were alone for the time being.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, voice and face full of concern.

"Fine, now that you're here," she said, managing a weak smile. Despite the words, Bernardo could hear the wheezing every time she breathed.

"Look, Bicé, the doctors are going to need to operate on you to make you better. After that you should be back to normal and we can get you back to work."

She pondered that for a bit, staring at the ceiling. She looked back at her handler when she spoke, "Will you be there?"

"Well... you won't be awake for it..."

"But you'll be there?"

"Of course." He saw no harm in the lie.

"Good," she said. The smile that spread over her worried features was like the sun breaking through storm clouds. There was a brief silence between them. Bernardo couldn't think of anything useful to say. His presence was more important than his words, anyway.

Beatrice spoke first. Despite the fact that her face was flushed he was sure he saw her blush. "Mr. Bernardo. When I'm better again, could we..." her voice trailed off. Bernardo almost could have laughed, seeing the serious cyborg so embarrassed.

"What is it, Bicé?" he asked, encouragingly.

"Well... I..." She looked away, flustered. "There are so many things I want to do and I didn't really start thinking about them until just a few days ago..."

Not knowing what to say to put her at ease, Bernardo reached out and put his big hand on her small one. The contact startled her. She looked at him and smiled. Reassured she opened her mouth to speak — and turned her head just in time to avoid coughing all over him.

The fit passed but she paused for a minute, trying to catch her breath. Rasping sounds came from her as her little chest heaved, trying to draw in breath. When she turned to him, fresh tears streaked her cheeks, but whether they were the result of her coughing or some intense emotion he could not be sure. "I really like animals. I think they're so neat! And I just wanted to..."

Another cough racked her small frame. He put a hand on her back to try and steady her as she drew breath in ragged gasps. "Bicé, maybe you should just lie down and rest. Whatever it is, we can talk about it later." She laid back, looking up at him, an unasked question on her lips.

The soft voice of one of the staff nurses interrupted them, "Bernardo, it's almost time. We need to prep her for surgery."

"Alright," he said, over his shoulder, standing as he did so.

As he stood, Beatrice sat upright and grabbed his hand. Her voice was a hoarse whisper, "Could we go to the zoo, Mr. Bernardo? Please? When I'm better? I always wanted to..."

"That's fine, Bicé, I would love to take you," he said reassuringly. Though she was just as sick after his answer, his words calmed her and brought a weak smile to her face.

He stood aside as the nurse and a technician adjusted the bed and wheeled his sick little girl out of the room.

Alone in the room, Bernardo sighed. "The zoo?"

Weary, both physically and emotionally, from the day's exertions, Bernardo retired to one of the guest rooms at the compound. The place was big enough to house more than twice the girls it had, plus all their handlers and some support staff. Finding a place to crash was no problem at all.

Such was his exhaustion that sleep came easily, shortly after his head hit the pillow. With sleep came dreams.

In his dream, Beatrice was alive and well. As promised, he was taking her to the zoo. It wasn't any particular zoo, just some sort of idealized 'zoo' with a fascinating variety of animals. Dreams quite often made just enough sense in some ways while making very little in others.

They went here and there, admiring all sorts of animals in the park. Beatrice was stoic and quiet, but Bernardo was having a grand time, enjoying both the zoo and the chance to shamelessly dote on the little girl.

They stopped to look at the African lions lounging around in their enclosure. Nearby were bengal tigers who were playfully engaged in all sorts of feline activities. From there they visited the polar bears and watched them swim around.

Bernardo must've gotten a bit close, however, as one of the bears lumbered toward the fence and tried to paw at him. He stepped back, alarmed at the bear's ferocity, when Beatrice interposed herself and dropped the thing with a shot clean through its left eye.

Bernardo started to chastise the girl, both for using her weapon in public and firing at the bear which hadn't been much of a threat behind its fnece. Passersby took no note, however. Beatrice was strangely silent.

As he stood with a final admonishment, Bernardo heard someone call out his name. He turned around and waved at Priscilla who was running towards him, smiling.

"Oh, hey, Priscilla, I was ju—"

Without a word, Beatrice moved between them, gun in hand. It bucked once. Priscilla dropped, a bloody wound where her eye had been.

"Beatrice! What the—" Bernardo couldn't even finish the sentence, such was his shock.

By now the other zoo-goers were staring at them and pointing, both at them and at Priscilla's unsightly corpse. In a deadly whirl and hail of gunfire, Beatrice shot them all. When she stopped, he was alone with her amongst a macabre scene of dead pedestrians.

Bernardo looked around in shock, at a loss for words. Holstering her gun, the cyborg moved to stand in front of him, making no sound. She stared straight ahead, not even seeing him. He knelt in front of her, to look at her face, but her gaze went right through him.

"Bicé, what did you..." he began, not comprehending what had happened. He reached up to run a hand through her hair. José used to ruffle Henrietta's hair all the time. Beatrice stood stock still, not even acknowledging the touch. He looked at his hand, puzzled. Some of her brown locks had come out and were still in his hand. He peered at her, greatly discomfited by everything that had happened. Some of her hair had indeed come out, but there was something underneath...

Bernardo awoke with a start. Whatever dream he had been having had left him feeling uncomfortable, but it fled before his conscious mind. He yawned and sat up. The sore stiffness of his overtaxed muscles forced a groan from him. He got up and stretched, stiff muscles causing more noises of discomfort.

He had slept later than he had expected or wanted. There was a spare change of clothes for him here, which he grabbed before making his way to begin his morning routine of wakefulness. It was overcast and wet outside, and the weather matched the unease which colored his mood.

Beatrice should be done with her surgery by now and he would be able to find out if she had survived. Ideally it should have been pretty routine for a crew who regularly converts little girls to cyborgs, but he couldn't shake the ominous sense of gloom with which his recent dream had left him. It had been the dream, right?

The hot water did wonders for his sore muscles. Maybe he would take a long soak in a nice, hot bath once he'd gotten home tonight. As he toweled himself after his shower, he reflected again on the discussion he would have with Dr. Gilliani. 'I'm sorry, we did all we could,' he could imagine the good doctor saying. Or, 'Something unexpected came up; there was nothing to be done.'

Not that he wanted or even expected something like that to happen, but it would be much better to prepare himself for the worst and be pleasantly disappointed than to expect her to be well and be let down. What was it José had said? Try not to get attached. And be prepared to lose her.

The meeting with Dr. Gilliani and Jean went much more smoothly than he could have guessed. Gilliani had been happy to report that everything had worked out perfectly. Beatrice was resting comfortably while the techs ran more diagnostic tests on everything to ensure optimum functionality. She really was fine. He had to assure Bernardo several times, almost to the point where Jean started to grow irritated. Bernardo just couldn't believe it. All his worrying had been for naught, it seemed.

She would be up and about tomorrow and ready to get back to training the day after. Jean offered the usual gruff warnings about being careful, reporting anything unusual about his cyborg to the doctors and the bit about how training Beatrice was his responsibility, every bit as much as making sure she was properly maintained.

Bernardo apologized, but his mind was elsewhere. Things really would turn out for the best, it seemed and the worst he would endure would be some good-natured jokes about keeping his girl healthy and making sure she saw the doctors enough. All in all it was a fair trade. Hell, it was better than a fair trade.

The following day was bright and sunny; all traces of yesterday's storm clouds had been obliterated. He was a little late to the agency, pulling into an empty spot. He made his way to the dorm where he expected to find Beatrice, a smile on his face, a spring in his step and a pamphlet in his hand. Dr. Gilliani had warned against doing anything too terribly strenuous today so he would take his ward on a sightseeing trip.

She must've heard his car pull up since she was standing near the entrance to the dorm, waiting patiently. He called out cheerfully when he saw her, "Hey, Bicé, how're you feeling."

"Fine, sir," was the reply. She seemed a little different. Often the girls were a bit spaced out after major surgeries. One of the techs had mentioned that Triela had had a leg replaced recently and she had woken afterwards after having a dream about her mother. She had been emotional and somewhat disoriented for about a day after that.

He smiled and looked at his pamphlet. It advertised the wonders of one of the zoos in Rome. Bernardo knew a way to make her smile. "Anywhere you feel like going today?"

The eyes that looked at him were as utterly devoid of emotion as her voice, "I'll go where you want me to go, Bernardo." The color drained out of his face as he realized the last time he'd heard her say those words. A week ago when she had practically been a different person.

"Bicé, what's... what's wrong?"

"Nothing, sir. I am well," she replied, mechanically. Her eyes seemed to stare right through him. All at once, the dream came back to him. The Beatrice in his dream had looked at him with the same hollow stare. Her hair had fallen out when he'd run his hand through it... and underneath was something gray, metallic. His eyes widened and his breath came in shallow gasps as the memory crept back to him.

Unable to stop himself, the dream-Bernardo had tried to see the truth behind his Beatrice. Her hair had come off and the skin of her face had peeled away like latex paint. When he was done, the cold, inhuman gaze of the machine had looked back at him through green eyes. Those same green eyes and that same inhuman gaze that beheld him now.

Reflexively, his grip tightened around the pamphlet in his hand. He forced his eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing and relax his muscles. All but unnoticed, the crumpled pamphlet slipped from his grasp to fall to the ground.

The mistake he'd made had been twofold. He had gotten too attached to Beatrice. And he had thought himself well prepared for her loss. What he hadn't expected was to see his little girl replaced by this soulless construction of carbon fiber and artificial muscle.

He sighed — as he must've sighed a hundred times before — and opened his eyes. The sun shined and birds chirped. It was a perfectly normal day. Noticing the discarded paper, Beatrice bent, picked it up and threw it in the trash. With it went his hopes that Beatrice would ever be a normal, little girl.

END