Perfect Master(16)
Arik attempted a crooked smile. “I will be king someday. I don’t want my subjects to run away in terror every time they see me, and I shouldn’t hide myself in the palace, away from their curious eyes.”
“You’ve been hurt enough already, Master. If your subjects don’t like the way you look, they can avert their eyes. Anyone who knows you as I do will love you as you are.”
“Quiet, my tenderhearted darling. I want to explore the possibilities. Whatever I do, it will be for me.” He lifted the communicator and said a few words to the king.
* * * * *
The next morning Pak Song and a renowned restorative surgeon called at the palace and were shown directly to Arik’s tower. When Emerald invited them in, Arik showed them his back. Only when she took his hand and turned him around did he lower his robe. It broke her heart to see him so reluctant to reveal his scars.
He riddled the two men with that dark, pained eye. “I can tell by your expressions that you believe I’m a lost cause.”
The wizened Asian man shook his head. “No, your highness. What cannot be repaired can be replaced. Bionic forearm and hand are simple. Did one successfully a few months ago for an Earthling exile. Can provide his testimony as to way bionic hand works. Doctors here can get rid of most scars.”
Arik shook his head. “The scars don’t bother me, except for the ones on my face. What can you do with this?” he asked, lifting his hook to nudge his empty eye socket.
“If you sit, I will take closer look. Did bionic eyes for an Earthling, the first cyborg I created. They work better than originals. Even better than I imagined they would. Patient was blinded in starship explosion. Now he can see very far away, even through walls. Only problem is, bionic eyes are red and they glow. Must research matter. He says they distract those around him. Beats not being able to see, though.”
Arik sat on a padded bench and waited while the cyborg maker examined him. He couldn’t help noticing Emerald move close by, as though determined to protect him.
When Pak Song probed the shattered right side of Arik’s face, he was unable to keep from wincing. “Please, Master, don’t allow them to hurt you more,” Emerald said, distress evident on her beautiful face.
Arik took her hand and pulled her onto the bench beside him.
The old man stepped aside and consulted with the surgeon. Finally they turned back to Arik. “We can rebuild crushed bones in face, sire. Can also give you bionic eyes but can only do that as a set. Will have to remove uninjured one.”
“No!” Emerald sounded as though she couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing the love in his solitary eye. When she rested her hand on his left thigh, though, it distracted him from Pak Song’s painful probing.
“What do you think, your highness?” the cyborg maker asked.
“I agree with the princess. I don’t intend to lose the sight I still have.”
The cyborg maker shook his head. “Never tried doing a single bionic eye. Will give it thought, maybe try it on someone who’s completely blind before offering it to my prince. I do recommend the bionic hand, though. That will look and work like real thing, I promise.”
Arik didn’t answer right away, but finally he met the cyborg maker’s expectant gaze. “I’m a little hesitant to become a cyborg. As for this ugly thing,” he said, holding up the hook, “I’ve become used to wearing it. I realize it’s primitive, but I’ve managed to learn how to use it to a certain extent.”
Pak Song wrinkled his nose at the sight of the prosthesis. “I make bionic forearm and hand. I promise you will like it—you won’t be able to tell it from this one in any way.” He reached out and touched Arik’s uninjured left hand.
He turned to Emerald. “You will like, too, highness. Hand and fingers will feel just like your lord’s other one, even move the same. I make skin you cannot tell from his own.”
Arik saw Emerald’s smile, imagined the enhanced pleasure he could give her if he had two good arms. He closed his eye, daydreaming for a moment how it would feel to walk down the Street of Pleasure without feeling the stares, the pity. “I’ve decided, gentlemen. I’m putting myself into your hands. If you can repair my face so I won’t make grown men scream with terror, do it, but I will wear an eye patch rather than lose my good, remaining eye. As for the bionic arm, I look forward to it.”
The surgeon cleared his throat. “If my colleague will permit me, your highness, I believe I can use synthetic material to rebuild the shattered bones in your face, even the eye socket. That way you can use an artificial eye if you wish, rather than the patch.”