Was going for the goals truly always this easy? Troy was not sure if he was being extremely lucky or if it was just the standard. He had done little in the way of getting to Charlie’s laboratory, to the point where he had refrained from asking about it. When they had been in his room hours earlier, he could have asked if they could go there. It would have been perfectly fine, seeing as they were only supposed to train much later in the day. Yet, that hadn't been acted upon, the time for fitness only being hurried along. It was the cowardly approach, and it had somehow paid off in the end.
"How are you doing on your side? Feeling the need to faint yet?" Charlie asked from the side, inside of the so-called physical therapy machines. There was some shortened name for the ghoulish things, yet Troy could not get himself to remember it, his body doing its best to remind him of anything but it.
It made him think of the miracle cure, which Zep had shown off not that long ago. A single bottle was needed before his body was refreshed and ready to take on the world. With most other methods to help the healing process along, there were a couple more steps. Cold and hot treatments, deep tissue massages, and all sorts of other techniques were still commonplace.
Years ago, people had apparently tried to fit all those methods, small and big, into one single machine. It was a revolutionary idea, to contain it all into an easy-to-manage space. It certainly sounded good on paper.
In practice though… not so much. There had been more than a few dollars put into the budget. These had not been totally in vain, the project yielding some success. The machine was successfully built, with all the features promised included inside it. According to Charlie, it was even A-plus rated on energy-efficiency. Troy didn't fully understand how that could be looked at as a positive thing, but that did not really matter too much.
What he did understand, however, let the man fully understand why the project was scrapped entirely. While every single feature promised was inside, there were a few more that had not been intended in any way. One of these could best be described in the effect it gave out, and that was its ability to increase the mental fortitude of the people using the machines.
"You know, I am fully beginning to get why nobody has taken these away from you," Troy mused aloud, trying his best not to move his arms. The last time he did that, the creeping cold hit his armpits in a way that had unmotivated sounds escape in his throat. "Nobody fucking wants them enough to complain about it."
There was a complete understanding of the value that those machines had. Troy felt the effect they had on his tired limbs already. Yet… that did not seem as important as the constant changes being bathed in hot air and the cold air. It had been gradually getting longer and longer downwards. Charlie had even given him a few warnings about touching the sides as it had a chance of causing the skin to rupture.
"Don't be so sure about that," Charlie replied, looking to be having the time of the life. The young guessed it to be due to the first-class seats to improvised entertainment. "I have gotten several offers to sell these things off. For whatever reason, people think the technology in these things will be the next step in creating miniature cold-fusion. It isn't my area of speciality, honestly, so I don't understand how it really works. And if I'm not sure it will help anybody, then I'm not selling these things off. The health of my body is more important."
"... But you have over ten of them. You only need one."
"That's where you're wrong, kiddo. I like to switch between them every now and then. I need as many as possible so that nobody mistakes it as me giving secrets away in some obscure manner. I'm basically doing everybody a favour by not selling them."
It was times like these where Troy could really understand the foundations of anarchism. People got greedy when they had too much. While this was mainly meant to be related to money, it apparently fitted pretty well when it came to automatic physical therapy machines.
Both of them really did have the same qualities. The more you had, the better your life could become. With money, one could buy better things, and with the machines, one could gain better health while also giving your mind the needed amount of new input. The variety was good for the brain after all.
They also had the same potential of causing indescribable levels of discomfort, if only in slightly differing ways. The money caused the greed of humanity to slowly cause cracks within the species’ rank, while the machines went the direct way of literally giving people a deep tissue massage.
Massages were supposed to feel good! Troy had heard about people getting them when he was younger, learning about how it was a loving experience. He had always thought about getting one from a professional masseuse, but the ones he could find cost much more money than he had expected. And they were all local for some reason.
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Now that he had truly felt it for himself, maybe it was a good thing he had never paid for such things. It would have been a total waste of money, as he would have never done it again. How Charlie was able to endure such a thing on a daily basis was the question that would plague philosophers for centuries to come. Maybe the mind had been broken to the state of being unable to differentiate pleasure from pain. Or he was a masochist. Some people were just born like that. Troy could only look up to those people. Or maybe down. Depended on where they were.
"How long have you had these machines?" Troy asked, spending his time distracting himself to the absolute maximum. He had been told to strip down to his undies, and there had now been an understanding of why that was. Why did the artificial fingers need to be cold? And why the back? Trying to focus on something else was really the only way to survive. There was still too long a time before the procedure was done.
"It has been a few years, nowadays," Charlie said, looking like an old man trying to remember the difference between something happening last Tuesday and something happening ten years ago. "It was a year or two after getting here, so it should be about… a decade perhaps? Hoot, I need to write these things down once in a while."
A decade, huh? Troy couldn't see it on the machines. The iron plating on the outside looked newly polished as if it had been created only hours ago. The inside may have had icing attached, but when the frost coating was removed, the look was more than just pristine. There were no blemishes, no flaws that could be pointed out. These machines had been held up to the point of perfection. It was as if they had never been used before. Yet that could not be, for Charlie should have used them thousands of time in total. As they were illegal, there were doubts that he had others help him in keeping them up to standard. Even more troublesome was the idea that Charlie would spend several hours each day keeping the machines up to a presentable level.
"How are you even caring for them, then? I’d have expected for them to be a little more beat up if they are that old," Troy commented, still trying to guess it for himself. Perhaps the older man had devised self-controlled robots that would follow regular patterns? Standard cleaning was easy enough to program, and any irregularities could be done manually. But, could they be trusted with not messing anything up, when the machinery itself was complex enough to be destroyed by a person sneezing loudly close to it?
"I take offence to that statement. I am not that old, thank you," Charlie had the need to say, looking abashed at the incredulity of the youth. It was almost on the brink of him wanting to start ranting about how the young people had it so easy, but he stopped himself as he realised the irony of it. "Oh, and I have not done a single thing to keep these machines up to scratch. These beauties are beautiful in the way that they are entirely self-reliant. The only needed action I have ever needed to do was to replace one of the battery accumulators inside, and that was due to me trying to mess around with the setting manually. Didn't go well at that time. Had to shave off my hair so I wouldn't get any unwanted poison through the skin-pores. Took way too long to grow these beautiful golden locks back"
"Sounds complicated," Troy commented, only really getting the self-cleaning part. He wondered how that really worked. Maybe a few extendable arms coming out from the side? Could work, even if the image of it was a little comic-based.
"It most certainly isn't. You just need to have a basic understanding of atom physics, particle physics, quantum physics, most dynamics-based fields, a few engineering degrees mixed in, and then just have some sociology course on top to skim off any holes in understanding. Maybe have a few literature studies on the side if you want to. I hear those are getting popular as of late," Charlie said, trying to make himself sound average when he very obviously needed to shut his mouth a little.
"Well, seeing as I can't remember what half of those fields are about, I am just going to stick to the side that's ignorant," Troy replied. "And, literature is not even in the top hundred anymore. People don't really care much about the past. Courses about future prospects are much more fun."
"Pretty sure there was some old guy talking about learning from the past. People need to read some of that stuff if they want to learn. Maybe, they could even watch some of Sagan’s stuff. It certainly drove me into this business when I was younger," Charlie remarked, Troy not having any clue who he was talking about. "What brought you over to the dark side, though? It obviously isn't omniscience, seeing as you can't be asked to study things outside of your expertise. In fact, I don't even know what you study. Though that might be due to restrictions on what I'm allowed to know, yet you can still say what gave the push into this business."
Charlie wanted to know more about him. That was fair, really. Troy had asked so many things, it was only karma that he would get some questions sent back. The two were co-workers, so getting some background-information was the standard. What did Charlie even really know?
He certainly didn't know of Troy’s lack of scientific study. He had tried to learn a small bit of it when he was younger, yet the concepts had just flown by the young man’s head. The structure of atoms he could get. It just got a little too complicated when he was expected to understand all the formulas attached to the atoms. There were definitely other things further on in that, but he had never gotten to a point where he could learn about it. Maybe there were even other specialities that he could have chosen to study in early on. He wouldn't know. That first setback had been more than enough for him, only empowering him to focus upon the language road.
Troy couldn't say that outright, however. He was still against directly lying to Charlie, due to the chance that he could be called out on the bluff. The muscular man knew a lot, and even the simplest questions about a certain study could ruin him.
"I guess… you could say that I have always had an interest in how humans communicated, how it could be manipulated, and how you could create more from it. I don't think I'm allowed to say anything more specific than that, unfortunately. Sorry for being vague about it," Troy said, not having a hard time sounding a little guilty.
"It's fine. Wasn't expecting to hear too much out of you anyway. When you work on projects as secret as yours, one should be happy that I'm even allowed to remember your face. Fair warning, actually. If you ever forget why you were walking forward, just continue walking ahead. It will save you a world of trouble," Charlie said, as both machines made a long beep before opening up. Having been unable to really feel his body before that, Troy felt like just letting his meat sack fall to the ground.
That was stopped, though, the moment he actually did try to move around. It felt… refreshing. There was nothing hinting at him being tired only minutes ago.
"I'm getting hungry. Do you want anything?" Charlie was already in the process of acquiring sugary goods from hidden cabinets. That man really didn't waste time, when he had something to go after. Troy wished he could say the same.