#body augment

Act One

“One day, when I’m famous, I’m going to buy you a house.”

The childish voice, vibrating with confidence, echoed the foolish promise in my head, just as it had before every rehearsal and every performance since.  I had been barely five years old, and too excited from looking up the mountain at the city - my future home -  to sleep.  My parents had laughed at my words, and at the time I was so proud that I’d made them happy.

Now, as pain shot through my entire body while someone else tied my performance shoes on, I was well aware they had been trying not to cry.  Only years of practice kept my own tears at bay as I was forced out of my wheelchair and to my feet, every muscle and joint in electric agony with the movement.  A set of hands pulled my costume over my head and started lacing up the back, while a much more familiar pair held a tool in front of my face.

“Time to turn the little doll’s key,” Urus sneered. The head of my security team thought I was a waste of his time and took entirely too much pleasure in each and every time he was able to stab me with the wicked tool.

I stared numbly at his face as I felt the impacts to each hip joint, silently wishing he would use it on my neck. Instead, all of my pain subsided as the nerve blocks implanted in my bones activated, washing a pleasant numbness throughout my legs and back. The orchestra silenced, indicating that the curtain was about to part, and Urus spat at my feet before leaving the stage.

No broken wrist this time. He was starting to warm up to me.

The next thing I knew was thunderous applause and blinding lights, followed by the swell of music. I fixed the dreamy look on my face that Master Arik expected and started going through my paces with mechanical precision. A modified pas de deux, choreographed for only one dancer, with as much of the partner work left in as humanly possible.

Well. Mostly humanly.

Where most, if not all, of the audience saw a young dancer of incredible skill, Arik was watching only for the slightest flaw he could punish someone for. Any physical sign of the cybernetic or gene-hacking enhancements that gave me perfect stability and balance, textbook ideal form, or disgustingly petite feet would have the entire staff of doctors whipped bloody - after they corrected it, of course. An undisciplined totter on my part, an arm a single degree out of position, and I would be forced to do all my rehearsals with full sensation, even in my mutilated feet.

I was, it turned out, entirely too expensive to break. Torture was still an option, though.

As I made my way through the gravity-defying leaps that replaced the lifts in the sequence, I fantasized about walking barefoot through wet grass.  I had done it as a child, I could remember it vividly. Cool, damp, soft blades tickling between my toes as I walked and ran. I would give anything to be able to walk again. Or have toes.

The music started to wind into its inevitable end, and I pulled myself from my reverie. Composing my face, I focused on executing the last bits of footwork without flaw, reveling in what my body could do when I wasn’t in pain.  When I completed the performance, picture perfect and stone still, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

My teacher had informed me that it was supposed to thrill me, that any other dancers would be thrilled.

I only knew that I would be in pain again within a minute, the closest thing to freedom taken from me again.

Sure enough, Urus was less than a meter behind the edge of the curtain - no encores for this performer - one of his cronies pushing my chair.  Roughly, I was inspected for any flaws before being stripped down and perfunctorily stabbed in my hips.  Quickly and without complaint, I sat in my chair before the block wore off.  Urus even stifled a laugh as the costumer looked offended that I had already shoved my tights down to my knees.

“Sir, she is very uncovered - “

Urus lashed out with a foot, laughter gone. “You are here to inspect their costume for damage that could expose Master Arik. You are not here to be offended.”

I schooled my features into a slow blink only through years of practice.  There were no illusions that Urus was getting soft or feeling anything related to sympathy - as long as I existed, he would never see promotion to a position he felt was important.  No, Urus was extremely strict that I was property, not a person, and calling me anything else was a quick way to draw his ire.

It was the only thing we openly agreed on, frankly.

As much as we were likely both hoping that my shoes had come apart again - three seamstresses had already lost hands to such failures, and the current one was a sadistic demon - they were disatisfyingly intact.  With a grunt, Urus gestured for me to be covered in a thick poncho and we headed to our next stop.  Every dip and jostle in the corridors was a new shock of pain, but the majority of them felt familiar. I mapped my locations within Master Arik’s estate by sensation rather than turns: left hip, up through the ribs… tailbone, right knee left knee… “Urus, my feet hurt,” I advised coldly.

He held up a hand to stop us. “What did you say?”

“My feet hurt. My heels, specifically.” My heels hadn’t touched a floor for long enough to even have calluses in nearly a decade, as he was well aware.  Even now, they rested above the back of my foot supports as the biological parts of my legs cramped.

No amount of discipline made up for twelve years of constant forced companionship. Two slow breaths for him was the equivalent of practically vibrating with excitement. “We will have the doctor look for any abrasions or bruising at your check up.”

I nodded, and he gestured for us to continue. The doctor gave me a very thorough and impersonal check, scolding my heels before anyone could say anything. He applied a salve and wrapped them, explaining that an analgesic would interfere with ‘the healing’.

“You mean my implants,” I blurted out, impertinently. “Topical only on the feet, but no oral or injected because it could damage the fibers in my muscles.”

“My - “

“Don’t apologize, you aren’t sorry,” I cut him off. “You are doing your job, as instructed, under threat of who knows what. Please, just apply the topical and give a small supply to Commander Urus for whoever is going to be bringing me food while they heal.” Hopefully he was feeling semi-gracious enough to do at least that much.

“Miss, I am not allowed to give you - “

“They did not ask that you give it to them,” Urus growled. “They asked that you give it to me. And last I was aware, I am responsible for all security regarding Master Arik’s property.” He glowered and held out a hand, demanding silently.

A tiny tin of analgesic was dropped in his paw, and I was whisked away fast enough to set every joint in my body on edge. Clenching my teeth, I managed to keep any indication of discomfort from escaping.  Only a few minutes later, one of my guards was unlocking and about to inspect my quarters, only to stop short and salute before bowing deeply.

Ice trickled down my spine before she even spoke. “Master Arik, I - “

“No concern, no concern,” came the oily voice as my owner stepped out. “As much as I would love to have our little doll at the reception, we cannot have anyone that close, now can we?” Disregarding any objections he may have received, he stepped forward and leaned close to my face. “Mmm, the newest treatments are working, even this closely. Perfect, porcelain skin.” Standing abruptly, he faced Urus. “The inspections?”

“Nothing visible, even up close,” he confirmed. “Although they do have blisters to their feet. I request - “

Arik waved nonchalantly. “Yes. Please deal with that out of my sight. I cannot have anyone damaging my investment. And you were informed how?”

Urus tried to lie, but apparently I wasn’t the only one who had been biohacked. He grimaced and rubbed his head as he replied. “They told me before we ever reached the doctor, but the doctor confirmed it without prompting.”

Tutting to himself, Arik grabbed my chin and turned my face side to side, observing it. “You never did like this seamstress.”

“I do not put on my shoes, sir,” I replied carefully. “And I do not know who made them. I only know that my heels hurt.”

He seemed to be satisfied, standing straight again and releasing me. “A cool bath, a meal, and then rest. My doll is to have a day of rest tomorrow, as weather permits, as a reward.  Commander, I want your best attending me, and everyone else outside this room tonight.” Glancing down at me, he murmured “They have made me very, very rich, and I won’t have anyone taking that away.”

My “day off” consisted of a silent maid allowing me to soak in a warm bath as long as I wanted before I was moved to the sun room to watch the snow outside fall but never touch the heated glass walls and ceiling.  No rehearsals, no interactions, only warm, soft food and matching pajamas.  I was allowed unlimited salt on my dinner, and a massage for my pain before my sleep period.

It was a decadence I had forgotten existed.

When I woke the following morning, I was pleased to discover I hadn’t overindulged and added a puffy face and aching head to my numerous daily discomforts. After my normal breakfast and being dressed in rehearsal clothes, I was whisked away to the studio.  The familiar jostling and pangs throughout my body made it clear that the room I spent most of my life in hadn’t relocated.  Something did seem different, though.  Ripples of unease and hushed whispers moved through my security detail, leaving a tension so firm that I felt I could strum the threads of it each time a guard came close to me.  Curiosity stirred within me, but I knew I couldn’t ask - no one would tell Master Arik’s prized possession anything security related.

As if summoned by my very thoughts, Arik’s voice broke from my reverie. My heart hammered so hard I could hear it, and I was certain he could see my hair twitch as I felt my pulse radiate across my scalp. “We were quite successful,” he oozed in what must pass for charm. Gently, he grabbed my jaw with his cold fingers. “Hmm. No wine.” I inhaled sharply in relief as he released me. “I have added additional security to the studio - it will be locked the entire time you are within, keyed to the genetic material I gave you.”

Pain flared in my spine as I started in shock, but my brain could not force out the objections echoing in my head. I am being imprisoned for doing what you asked?

He turned away from me, waving one hand nonchalantly. “I must protect my property, after all. And while owning a person is illegal, I do have a patent on the genetics you carry.” A sharp clap startled me, and he whirled back around. “But this is a boon for you!” he cooed. “After all, if you are locked within the studio, there is no reason not to allow you full nerve blocks during rehearsals.”

I blinked slowly as I digested his words. Full nerve blocks, I thought. Not the half-blocks that left me just functional enough to pay attention. “All rehearsals?”

“Even warm ups,” he nodded. “Starting as soon as you cross this threshold.”

Swallowing thickly, I asked the same question I always asked after a job well done. “And my family?”

“Ten percent of your stock has been paid out to them,” he nodded. “As promised.”

I knew I had performed flawlessly. My stock was surely on the rise… all the murmuring from the audience, the ball I had not been permitted to attend… My parents must have been paid well. Enough to buy a house, at least.

All it took was a nod, and I was wheeled through the entrance to the studio, a double thud locking it behind me. Banishing thoughts of Arik or my family from my mind, I set my jaw and my arms to force myself from the chair.

M. Russo, my instructor, scoffed his impatience and hauled me to my feet.  Only through experience and willpower was I able to keep from screaming as every joint in my hips and legs sent fire through my body. “I am told I must give you these injections now, before we rehearse,” he huffed.

With one shaking hand, I managed to push my warm up pants down on my left hip, pointing to the port where the injection belonged. “Hard,” I gasped.

My advice was clearly unneeded, as he stabbed the probe into me as though it was a knife - Urus could only dream of being so harsh.  Before he even pulled his hand back, I had pointed to the other port, which he dispassionately injected as well.  I nodded as I felt the nerve block take effect, and immediately started testing my limbs before walking over to the barre to begin stretching.  It was only after completing the first two positions that I realized M. Russo was not snapping his usual corrections.

Turning my neck slowly, I finally found him. He was still standing beside my chair, blinking slowly at me. “Monsieur,” I called quietly. “I will not know if I am correct if you are not close enough to see.”

The gentle correction seemed to be all it took to restore our familiar roles, because M. Russo proceeded to sweep up his switch and begin tapping my limbs. I was proud that we only needed four or so corrections before I ceased overcorrecting and only a handful of other corrections were needed throughout my warm up.

“Master Arik has decided you will be Esmeralda next,” I was informed. “You did not have enough leaps in the pas de deux, he says.”

There are no leaps in the pas de deux, I grumbled to myself. M. Russo had added them where lifts should be, of course there were not enough leaps.  But the role of Esmeralda had several kicks and opportunities for leaps, with some performances leaving me in awe of the skill of the unmodified performers.

“You shall leap higher, and longer, and with more perfection,” M. Russo announced, unknowingly echoing my own thoughts. “Show me your footwork, and we will move on to the jetes.”

For two months, I leapt in my sleep, flying like a bird. Each kick was a flap of my wings, each jete I imagined taking flight.  M. Russo grumbled about being cheated of my capabilities, and only became more stern with his corrections. More and more precision was expected, with the role already requiring each motion to be precisely on beat to very sparse music.  By the time the performance arrived, he had snapped several rods in his hands out of sheer frustration at the limits Master Arik had placed on us. “Leap, but not too high,” he muttered constantly. “Kick, but only so fast.”

When the performance finally came, I went through the familiar routine of a light warm up without the block, five hundred grams of food, and then being wheeled through the corridors and backstage to be dressed like a doll. Urus looked far more on edge than usual, nearly dropping the block for my performance. His injections were half-hearted at best.

“Pray my costume fails,” I muttered to him. “Surely someone will be lashed to death if that happens.”

All he did was grunt in response. “The feast after this display is much larger than I would like.”

The comment mattered little to me, since I would not be permitted at the celebration. Slowly, I tested my limbs and took position before the curtains withdrew, music already swelling into my ears. I was soon focused on the precise footwork and the soaring, athletic leaps M. Russo transformed several kicks into, all other thoughts forced from my mind. Left hand, right foot, I told myself. Ballon, ballon. Float.

I was in the middle of launching one of the leaps that tapped my foot against my tambourine when a sharp crack jarred me, sending me tumbling to the stage upon landing.  Fear gripped me as I imagined Master Arik’s displeasure - what punishment would this earn? I screamed in my mind as gasps and shouts filled the hall.  Rather than try to regain my feet, I laid as limply as possible in hopes of claiming I had fainted.

Hard hands gripped my arms as the shouts were replaced by screams, and I was dragged to my feet and from the stage.  Whatever I had done was so bad that the curtains were not even closing. Not that it mattered - everyone was too busy screaming and running from the theater to notice. I was too busy being stuffed into my chair to figure out what I had done, but I was starting to think something far worse had happened to send people away in such terror.

“Take them to the studio and seal it,” Urus shouted angrily before I could even be changed out of my costume.

The journey that took place was disorienting, dizzying as I was flown through the hallways. Twists and turns I did not recognize blurred my eyes and forced my stomach to coil in nausea. A sharp double thud behind me ended my journey, mercifully before I had the chance to be sick on myself. Instead, I jumped to my feet and whirled around looking for someone to question.

I was only greeted by the pale reflection of myself in an empty room, standing on my own feet. The world seemed to spin around me as I realized that my nerve block was still in place and I was, mercifully, in control of my own body. In sheer shock, I sat in the chair again to avoid falling to the floor for the second time in a single night.

It was only two breaths into collecting myself that I heard shouting from the hallway, followed by the door behind me unlocking. My brief chance at freedom had been wasted. “Ensure they haven’t been injured,” Arik’s voice commanded. “Urus, you and the doctor only, I trust no one else.”

Once again, I was yanked to my feet, this time followed by a soft swear. The doctor’s hands flew to Urus’s, and matching stings hit each of my hips. “Be more careful,” the doctor scolded without clarification before carefully examining each of my limbs as though I was for sale. Once he finished, he nodded sharply. “No heat exhaustion, no injuries. The bullet missed entirely.”

“That one did, at least,” Arik spat in frustration. “Urus, have the locks been installed on their quarters?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“I want their bedding brought down here and two guards posted at all times.”

“Staggered shifts, sir.” It wasn’t a question, more an assumption.

“Make it four. Two at the door and one at each turn.  And for the sake of fish, let them be seated.”

I was dropped into my chair more than lowered, but I was too dumbfounded to care.  All I could think about were the leaps and kicks M. Russo and I had choreographed, the feeling of flying.  The brief moment I stood on my own feet with no pain flickered in and out, that same free and soaring sensation threaded through. I fell asleep then and there from exhaustion into dreams of flying.