Oil ran down the side of the fire
hydrant as the manufactured puppy lifted its leg. Francis watched in delight as
its cyborg owner pulled on its lease. The puppy barked, sounding out each
letter. When he laughed, the owner looked back at Francis. He prepared his
organic feet for chase, but the cyborg with a mustache instructed him to
follow. Just a block down the street and around the corner, a festival was
taking place. Robot and cyborg couple laughed and cuddled while others enjoyed
frozen yogurt or liquid nitrogen shakes. Tents for various attractions like
Build-a-Friend and Clank-O were available. Francis could barely contain himself
when the mustached cyborg nudged his shoulder. He directed the visitor’s
attention to the Borg Me tent; his head was already nodding yes when Francis
looked back to him. Before he could say thank you, his feet ran towards his
wildest dream. When he reached the tent, he drew back the folds and felt
something push him forward. He tumbled forward into darkness, falling until his
eyes got tired.
Francis shot up in his bed. His eye stung as a bead of sweat tried to wash the sleep out. Vivi rolled off of his sheet-covered legs and trotted up to greet their master. Annoyed he was back to reality, he couldn’t stay mad for long when his favorite black terrier was there to ask for more food after being fed his husband on his way out earlier that morning. He turned to his nightstand on his left and noticed he was up one minute before his phone alarm. It began buzzing as soon as he took his eyes off it. Cancelling the alarm, he noticed he had a message from Gino: Running late for work, feed V. sorry!
Vivi nudged his freelancing owner’s right arm. Slightly annoyed again, Francis swatted his dog away and sent them flying across the room. They let out a yelp as they hit the wall and again plopping down to the floor. “Shit! Sorry, Vivi! The hell?” he looked at his arm. Something was off. He held both of his arms in front of him; his left arm was hairy all the way up to his back of his hand. His right, however, was smoother than Gino’s butt after a day
at the spa. Rubbing his arm, he tried to recall when or why he might have shaved it when he felt an odd bump on his forearm. His birthmark protruded. Not one to stop short on a mystery, he pressed it.
His elbow hissed as his forearm split into two pieces and his hand rounded itself into a barrel. A subtle neon-cerulean light complemented his golden complexion. Vivi, having enough surprises for one day, exited the bedroom and waited patiently by their bowl. Francis followed a soft red light from his former hand to the wall in front of him. A little red dot moved as he waved his arm of newfound destruction around. Not wanting to test it out in his rent-controlled and small Harlem apartment, he shook his arm to reset it but instead activated what looked like a grappling hook. “Oh, get the fuck out.” He could not contain his excitement. He banged his feet against his mattress in glee; then it hit him.
Grappler still drawn, he slid himself out of bed and looked at his legs. Both were still covered in dark, coarse hair. Inspecting his chest and stomach, the same were true of them too. He stood up and walked to the full length mirror in the bathroom for a full inspection. Oddly enough he could see everything clearly. He turned to the mirror over the sink and saw his bearded face looking back at him. Opening the cabinet, he withdrew his contact case. With his left hand, he carefully fingered his right contact and raised it to his eye. On instinct, he pulled his head back. He didn’t need these anymore. Placing it back in its case, Francis blinked and drew his head closer to the mirror for a better inspection. Absentminded, he touched his grapple to his right temple and heard a click inside his head followed by the sound of winding and whizzing. “No fucking way.” His phone dinged.
Running back out to the bedroom, he flopped onto the mattress and fumbled around for his phone. In his attempt to find it, he bumped his knee against his right arm and triggered the return of his hand. The neon light dimmed as his arm closed. Pausing to watch the process, he spotted his phone right under him. It was a notification from his camera app. He opened it to find a deer-in-headlight style selfie of him marked as two minutes old. He slid his hand down across his face, dragging his cheeks down. When his fingers scraped his right temple, another click sounded. “I’m gonna have to get used to that.” He rolled over on his back and kicked into the air. He froze. “But how?” he wondered.
Finally deodorized - he wasn’t sure if he could shower - and dressed in an-on the nose Cyborg 009 t-shirt and jeans, Francis finally fed Vivi as he tried to assure them that they were still friends. The kibble with half a stick of jerky did the trick. As he chewed the other half, he stared out his 12th floor balcony window. The building across the street didn’t seem that
far away, and traffic seemed slow for a Wednesday.
He slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony as the wind brushed past him. He thought his right arm felt cold, but it felt like nothing, just a lukewarm static. He tapped it against the railing and the grappling hook reemerged. Closing his left eye, he lifted the grappling arm and rested his left hand on it for support. He focused his right eye on a stretch of brick between two windows across the street about as high up as he was. Calculations and targeting circled appeared in his retina like he hoped. Three seconds later, he was locked onto his target. Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Vivi who watched from the kitchen. Francis clenched his buttcheeks and heard a firing noise. His shoulder jerked back as his grappling hand launched in a slight arc across the street. The cord was wire thin, but he inspected as it shot out of his arm. Would it be strong enough to support his weight? Before getting a chance to test out a few theories, he arm yanked him over the railing and across the street. It would seem his hook had finally met its destination.
Trying to be brave in the face of adventure, Francis failed and yelled as he swung across the two buildings and slammed his body between the windows on the fourth floor. Dangling in pain, he realized he didn’t know how to retract his new accessory. As a crowd started to draw below him, he covered his face with his left arm in an attempt to conceal his identity. “Hey, asshole, we can still see you!” someone shouted below him. Perhaps he should have waited until nightfall to experiment.
Thinking it was due to his body weight - even though he had just lost five pounds - Francis began to lower to the street level. Around the second floor, he grabbed his forearm and accidentally converted his hand back to its original form. He crashed onto three onlookers as he finally met the pavement, his hand whirling back to his wrist before anyone could realize he
was without equipment.
“Who tha fuck do ya think ya are? Spidaman?”
“I’ve never seen that kind of parkour before.”
“Young man, can you please get off of me?”
“Fran, fuck, are you alright?”
After rolling off a middle aged black woman, Francis looked up to find the last question came from Gino. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I’m pretending to take a smoke break,” he responded. “I didn’t
think I’d still find you in front of the house.”
“I’m not in front of the house; I’m across the street.”
Gino rolled his eyes. “How late did you feed Vivi?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Francis withheld for less than two seconds. “It was like five minutes ago.”
His husband laughed. “I thought you’d be down by Christopher St taking pics of the community by now.”
“You know I only do that on my birthday.”
“...happy birthday, bitch!” Gino finally blurted.
“Wait, what?” Francis stood as the crowd dispersed. “What day is it?”
“Mm, you didn’t check your phone. You’ve been out for five days. They said it’d take about that long, but I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”
Francis stared at his slightly shorter husband as he tried to play Nancy Drew a little faster. He looked at his arm. “Did you..?”
“Again, happy birthday, bitch.” He smiled. The new cyborg hurled himself onto this partner. Gino gasped as Francis’ new strength crushed him. “I take it you’re happy then.”
“I don’t know how you snuck this past me,” Francis released his husband, “ or how you paid for this… but fuck it, yeah. Duh. I love it. Best five days I ever lost. You coulda left a card or at least an instruction manual around for me.”
“And miss coming home to this? That was my gift to myself.”
Word
~~
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