“He is not looking cheerful,” Yuri said, from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m fine,” Tom muttered.

Now Vik’s chair scraped closer to his bedside. “So what’s the deal? I heard the official story: you went looking for a bathroom and accidentally walked outside, but I don’t buy it. How’d you really get stuck out there?”

“Yes, what were you doing?” Wyatt demanded. “I was so sure you and Vik had some stupid bet over who could last outside longer, and it would be so like you to almost die trying to win, but Vik is denying it.”

“Yes, I’m denying it,” Vik erupted. “Because betting over that would be stupid and Tom and I are not that stupid. Well, I’m not.” When Tom didn’t laugh, Vik nudged him. “Joke.”

It took Tom a moment to reply. “I know.”

“Ah, I do not believe we should question him regarding this right now,” Yuri cut in.

For some reason, his voice set Tom on edge. His stomach ached. He didn’t want his friends here. He wanted them to leave.

“Tom, stop flipping Yuri off,” Vik said, holding Tom’s middle finger up at Yuri.

Tom’s gaze riveted to the finger Vik was holding, the prickling sensation registering in his mind like the finger was actually attached to him. He couldn’t breathe. They were all staring at the detached finger, and it gave him a sense like his skin was crawling.

“Give it back,” Tom said to Vik.

He felt like something was sparking inside him, fizzling, ready to explode. It wasn’t the detachable-finger thing bothering him, it was something else. Something he couldn’t pinpoint. Everything felt wrong here. He really, really wanted them to leave.

“So these are exactly like the old ones?” Wyatt asked him.

“No,” Tom said. “These are cybernetic, Wyatt. That’s fake skin. They detach and they’re okay. The old ones, well, they froze into blackened stumps, and when they detached, they didn’t work anymore. If you really wanna compare side by side, ask Dr. Gonzales for my real fingers.” He started laughing, then laughing harder and harder. It was hard to choke out the words, “I bet he’s got ’em in medical waste somewhere.”

He heard Vik mumble something about being loopy on pain medication programs. That confused Tom. Was he acting weird? Tom wasn’t sure. He figured the anesthesia program had worn off. He didn’t feel doped up anymore.

“Doctor,” Vik said, shaking the finger at him, “I see many, many glorious pranks in our near future. Think of all the ways we could pretend your fingers have come off, and—”

“Okay. Yeah.” Tom tried to muster a grin, but couldn’t. “Now seriously, give it back.”

“You sound puzzled.” Vik scratched Tom’s head with the detached finger.

Tom practically screamed it at him: “Give it back!”