The Machinist Part One: Malevolence
“McHenry unlocked the door of his apartment and pushed it in.
His bots followed him in and returned to their crates before powering down.
He stripped off his armor, tossing the components to the floor, and made his way deeper into the apartment, stopping to pull on his sweatpants. Then, in the bathroom, he washed his face and poked at his nose while looking at it through the cracked medicine cabinet mirror. It wasn’t broken.
There was an enormous bruise on his chest, and on his sid...e. He twisted, and felt a sting—but nowhere near enough for it to mean anything was broken. But it was enough to overcome his pain suppression system.
That he didn’t have to go to a hospital and make up a story about falling down stairs--or another equally stupid lie--was something to be thankful for. But to him, recalling the events was even more humiliating than lying to some nurse.
He flipped open a pane of the mirror to see if there was anything in the cabinet. He was greeted by an almost empty, expired bottle of painkillers. He grabbed it with his good hand and wedged it into the armpit of his gimp arm, struggling momentarily to unscrew the lid. He tapped three of the pills out onto his tongue, filled his cupped palm with water from the faucet, tossed the water into his mouth, and swallowed.MoreLess
His bots followed him in and returned to their crates before powering down.
He stripped off his armor, tossing the components to the floor, and made his way deeper into the apartment, stopping to pull on his sweatpants. Then, in the bathroom, he washed his face and poked at his nose while looking at it through the cracked medicine cabinet mirror. It wasn’t broken.
There was an enormous bruise on his chest, and on his sid...e. He twisted, and felt a sting—but nowhere near enough for it to mean anything was broken. But it was enough to overcome his pain suppression system.
That he didn’t have to go to a hospital and make up a story about falling down stairs--or another equally stupid lie--was something to be thankful for. But to him, recalling the events was even more humiliating than lying to some nurse.
He flipped open a pane of the mirror to see if there was anything in the cabinet. He was greeted by an almost empty, expired bottle of painkillers. He grabbed it with his good hand and wedged it into the armpit of his gimp arm, struggling momentarily to unscrew the lid. He tapped three of the pills out onto his tongue, filled his cupped palm with water from the faucet, tossed the water into his mouth, and swallowed.MoreLess
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