Wox sighed again. “Stop fidgeting. You want a good installation, don’t you?” Alyce nodded. Some programming was better than others, and she often heard horror stories from the Academy about Standards receiving botched installations and getting hacked with horrible viruses. Some Standards just weren’t prepared for the procedure, but Alyce had trained for the installation so faithfully she felt she might die if the program wasn’t a match.
The door opened again and whom Alyce assumed was Dr. Greyson stepped in. He wore mech goggles, which he adjusted as he entered the room and found a chair, murmuring to himself as he pored over a set of medical documents.
“Mhm. Yes. Alyce Walker…fifteen, first programming…Uh-huh. Everything seems to be in order here.” He looked up at Alyce and seemed to analyze her face. “And what are we looking for today in the way of software? It says here your placement at the Academy is Medical Science… I suppose I have a few chipsets for improvement in hand-eye coordination, mathematics, and chemistry.” Dr. Greyson pinched Alyce’s skin with icy fingers. “Mech grafting is possible... Standard skin is fragile, but cyber arm applications are very popular now with modern surgeons.”
He turned his gaze to Wox. “How are her academics?”
Wox shuddered. “Poor. She could do with a large memory capacity chipset, I think.” Dr. Greyson nodded condescendingly at Alyce. She stiffened at his cold, clinical stare through the mech goggles and patiently listened, afraid to speak. The only thing she knew was that she was tired of being “stock,” sick of being a bumbling Standard.
Dr. Greyson reached out and patted her knee with a shining silver mech grafted hand. “We’ll make you better, Alyce.”