Dinner had been awkward after Carbon bailed, mostly for Alex. He assured Ed that she had good reasons, even though he was unsure exactly what they were. He neglected to mention the emotions he’d seen play over her face before she left. Ed didn’t press the issue, dismissing it out of hand as good work ethic. He insisted on paying and they went their separate ways, Alex toting a plastic to-go container back to his quarters.
He was unprepared for how alone a cheeseburger could make him feel. Eating it didn’t seem to improve anything, either.
The next few days were odd and lonely, finishing up the last of his reports and tossing emails back and forth with Carbon. Even though she was on the Tsla’o carrier in orbit at Earth, she was still using her cpp.navy email address. She didn’t have much to say, which he expected. Mostly taking care of all of the same stuff he had been doing, debriefs and the like.
On the upside, it left him plenty of time to get his augments installed. McFadden station had an extensive medical suite, but wasn’t set up for invasive installations like he was about to get. Despite having to remove and reinstall a machine attached to his brain, to start, it was just a day trip. The ONI had him booked into the Naval Medical Facility in Arcadia Planitia. Alex didn’t even pack a bag, fully expecting to be back on the station he was currently assigned to later that day.
Once again he got up at an entirely unreasonable hour so he could catch the shuttle to Mars Terminal, then a connection down to Arcadia Planitia. In a matter of hours after stepping into the surgery suite, Alex had gained nearly a kilo. Barely even noticed it, aside from the shortness of breath and still being attached to a mediboard, though this time it was just a narrow strip along his back and up to the top of his skull. It was performing the final repairs from the string of surgeries that had replaced his Amp - he got the upgraded Mk. IV, with double the flex processors - inserted the experimental Whisper, and his shiny new Immersion Translator.
Most of the weight came from the Immersion Translator. Almost half a kilogram of specialized processor clusters and their controller were slipped into his rib cage by a robotic arm remotely controlled by a surgeon. The packages were slim, conforming to the ribs along the spine in an area that effectively had no spare room.
His head and upper body had been injected with an array of subdermal sensors that were wired into the controller, along with a connection to his auditory nerve to help with accurate rendering. All this allowed the translator to pick up sounds and information about these sounds. How loud, how far away, where they were coming from, in a three dimensional space. The data shoots down into the IT, gets separated, translated and adjusted to retain vocal cues and then recompiled into a full, three dimensional soundscape. All of that is then piped directly into Alex’s brain via his Amp, minimizing lag.
Hopefully.
“So does this... Ever go away?” Alex wheezed as he sat on the mediboard in a pale green gown, waiting for it to release the back of his freshly shaven head.
Doctor Hernandez was the surgeon that had installed his IT, and as the last of the doctors that had performed the implantations, she had been the one to monitor his recovery. Which meant that she was mostly there to ensure the mediboard finished its tasks correctly. They only had about fifteen minutes to go. “Yes. It will take a few days to adjust to, most people are almost back to normal in a week.”
His eyebrows went up, skeptical of her answer. “Whatta you mean... almost back to nor... normal?”
“It is as it sounds. Almost back to normal.” She looked at him like he should have known this was going to happen. “Most of the problem you are having right now is related to temporary swelling after the surgery. There was a lot of cutting and drilling involved. Weren’t you told that during the consultation?”
“Got it for work.” He shook his head but smiled at the complete sentence, short as it was.
“How did you even get in here... Of course, Intelligence.” She paged through the tablet in her hand as she sucked on her teeth, not particularly pleased with that answer based on the way her eyebrows knit together. “You were given a dose of an anti-inflammatory, it should be working shortly. Since you got fast-tracked past the consult, I’ll give you the short version: an implant that size is always going to make its presence felt. It will be slowing you down as long as it’s in there. Maybe just a little bit, but you’ll notice it. Don’t expect to improve your hundred meter dash any time soon.”
“Great.”
Her bedside manner had gotten a bit curt, which wasn’t too surprising. “It’s a well known complication. People just don’t want to have organs removed so we shoehorn the implants in around them.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Alex nodded. “Like ‘em where they... are.”
The doctor made a noncommittal sound as she reviewed his chart, tapping through several pages before blanching. “That’s where they were hiding it. We put a lot of mods in you today. Why in the world do you have an Amp and Whisper?”
He wheezed a laugh, breathing starting to get easier as the anti-inflammatory started to go into effect. “It’s for work. Classified. I think. I suspect I don’t want to guess wrong.”
She nodded and looked, if anything, more serious. “Have you ever used a translator before?”
“Yeah, external over comms.”
“All right. More information that was in the consultation: An IT is very different from using more standardized forms of translation. Over a comm, people know you’re getting translated information. It’s a given these days, most comms will even display that they’re filtering through a translator.”
“True.” The intercom systems on the Kshlav’o had just put a little asterisk in the corner of the screen when it was translating. It was pretty easy to know who was getting translated on board, but every now and then it’d pop up for a moment if someone from Mission Control had used a loanword with too much accent on it.
“An Immersive is effectively invisible. Unless you’re wearing a translator yoke or some other visual cue, people will not know that you have translation capability unless you tell them.”
Alex nodded along, not entirely sure where she was going, a hint of confusion on his face. “That makes sense.”
“Good. When you turn the translator on, there will be no obvious way to be able to determine if a voice is being translated unless you are watching the speaker. Their lips will move differently, and there will be a brief lag. There’s a setting to add a little distortion to translated voices as well if you’re having trouble with it.”
Alex honestly doubted he’d be having a hard time telling who wasn’t speaking English among the Tsla’o, but he kept that to himself. “Still following you.”
“Many people assume a level of safety around foreigners when they’re using their native tongue. Without any cues to let them know you can understand them, the sudden revelation that you’re surreptitiously listening to everything they’re saying can damage relations, even if you have no ill intentions.”
That tidbit was actually useful and made everything click into place. He’d be careful about that when he got around Tsla’o, might see about getting a yoke to wear just to be safe. “I can see how that could be bad.”
“Yes. That’s the main thing we warn about in the consultation. It’s a pretty common novice mistake to reply to someone who doesn’t know you’re translating. Most people just won’t like it, but some cultures are more accepting of violence towards spies.”
Alex nodded. ONI was all over his paperwork and he was getting a high-end translator implant. Not a stretch of the imagination, by any means. “Yeah, I was starting to think that’s where you were going.”
“Good. Are you familiar with any of the anti-augmentation organizations?”
“No. Should I be?” He’d heard of them, of course. Some people just didn’t like the idea of human augmentation, no matter how slight or beneficial.
“Let’s just say you might want to keep your prodigious number of implants to yourself. Most people who get them only get one, like that FTL-grade Amp you have, unless they’ve replaced limbs or organs. I think you’re the most heavily modded person I’ve worked on without it being visible from the outside.”
Alex took a moment to process that, a little surprised and disturbed. “Huh, well... Good for me.”
“Just be careful about who you discuss it with. Some of the more extreme groups... They are not called extremists because of their moderate reactions.”
“Yeah. Not going to be an issue. Not in the habit of talking about work.”
“Good. That about covers the big items...” She glanced down at her tablet and held up a hand, counting down from five on her fingers.
The mediboard attached to Alex’s back started beeping when she hit zero, insistent about how finished it was. The doctor held a hand out to help him get upright, a thin layer of gel keeping him stuck down for a moment before he pulled free of it, that minor exertion leaving him wheezing again. The experience was remarkably pain free. Just a cool breeze on the newly healed skin running down his skull and along his back. He sighed, relaxing with a smile. “That’s a lot better than last time.”
She stepped back and shut the mediboard down, retrieving a medical scanner and holding over his chest. “Alright. Take a deep breath for me.”
He did, drawing in most of what he’d normally be able to before he winced and coughed.
“That’s right where it should be. You’re ready to go, Mr. Sorenson. The nurse will have all the documents at the front desk, including everything you should have received during your consultation. Just remember to take it easy for the rest of the day.”
“You got it. Have a good day.” Alex smiled and gave a little wave as she left the room. All in all, a fairly productive morning.