“Just relax, Jen,” Dr. Shen said, his customarily over-elocuted tone distorted almost to normality by the intercom. “You may experience some mild discomfort when the prostheses come on line, but that’s to be expected. It shouldn’t feel dissimilar to a minor circulatory interruption.”
“He means that it will feel like your arms and legs are asleep,” Dr. Valen explained.
“I believe that’s—“
The intercom switched off, interrupting Dr. Shen’s reply, but Jen didn’t care. The pain didn’t matter. She stared at the smooth white curve of the inside of the augmentation chamber, letting her eyes follow the contour of its arc again and again while the thought circled through her head.
The pain didn’t matter. It hadn’t mattered when she’d let them cut off her arms and legs. It hadn’t mattered when they’d drilled a thousand tiny holes into her skull to install the network of cybernetic control implants. And it sure as hell wouldn’t matter if the titanium limbs grafted to her torso tingled when they turned them on.
None of it mattered.
Roll Fizzlebeef was dead, and Jen had never told him that she was in love with him.
The only thing that mattered now was vengeance.