That sounded more like an order than a request, but I let it go. “I’ll do my best.”

I stood to leave, anxious to try out Lara’s bed.

“Professor Eisenbraun, you are one cryogenic booster shot behind schedule.”

“Am I? Guess I’ll have to catch up after my shift with Jason Sloan.”

The surgical lights bloomed bright, revealing a hypodermic needle and an alcohol swab lying on an instrument tray on the operating table.

“What? Now?”

“Adhering to the booster shot schedule ensures proper tissue absorption.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to screw that up.” Cursing under my breath, I trudged over to the surgical suite where the two robotic trunk arms hung from their ceiling mounts over the table, their wheel of surgical instruments resembling two giant Swiss Army knives.

“GOLEM, how soon until you’ve evolved enough neuro-receptors to gain control of these appendages?”

“Twelve months, three days, six hours, seventeen minutes.”

“And then you’ll actually be able to perform surgery?”

“Phase I medical procedures are limited to X-rays, bone-setting, and field dressings. Phase II procedures will be operational in fourteen months and will include obstetric, gynecology, and prostate examinations as well as orthopedic and cosmetic surgery.”

“Boob jobs and bunghole inspections … how lovely.” I smiled disarmingly, but the thought of allowing a computer armed with an array of sharp instruments to check my prostate didn’t sit well with me.

“Phase III procedures will be operational in twenty-seven months, sixteen days and will include appendectomies, cardiac repairs, neurosurgery, and dental procedures.”

“Definitely motivates one to brush after every meal.” Unzipping my jumpsuit, I exposed a small section of my left butt cheek. I carefully swabbed the skin with the alcohol pad, then gripped the hypodermic needle in my right hand. “The things I do for love.” Jabbing the muscle, I injected the clear elixir. The pain of the needle subsided, yielding to a wave of nausea.

“Anything else before I puke?”

“Report here tomorrow at oh-five-hundred hours for your next booster shot.”

“You’re a real pain-in-the-ass, you know that?”

“Proctology exams must wait until neuroreceptors have evolved for Phase II procedures.”

“Never mind. By the way, if these appendages of yours haven’t been activated yet, how did you manage to leave the booster shot on the table.”

“The shot was left by Jason Sloan.”

*   *   *

Cryogenist Jason Sloan was a toothpick-skinny six-footer, with brown shoulder-length hair and hazel eyes that fluttered when he engaged his 167 IQ. Two years younger than me, he clearly exhibited a man-crush on yours truly.

“I’ve been following your progress on ABE every since you received funding from the DoD. Why the defense department? Is ABE considered a weapon?”

“Only if you consider brain farts as the next WMD. My uncle’s a general. He arranged a grant.”

“Nice. What’s the earliest memory you’ve ever accessed? Could you access memories from the day you were born? How about from inside the womb?”