Page 32 of Death of the Author

Zelu laughed. “You guys need to have some kids.”

“Nah.” He held the door open and motioned for her to come in.

Once she’d entered, Tolu stepped outside. “Where are you going?” she asked.

He turned around and gestured behind him, toward the street. “Back to the office. Where I’ll be all night, working on this fucking case. I’ll see you, Zelu.”

“Later,” she said. “And good luck.”

He grunted, getting into his car.

Tolu and Folashade’s house always made her smile. It was so luxurious, with antique furniture, Nigerian art on the walls either grinning or scowling at her, spotless white couches, brightly wallpapered walls, and the ever-present smell of a scented candle burning somewhere.

She didn’t have to look hard to find Man Man. He was lounging like a French girl on the plush white couch, looking at her with his “come hither”eyes. Zelu always wondered how they kept that couch so white and perfect when this nearly twenty-pound house panther spent his days on it. He was sprawled right on top of a well-read-looking copy ofRusted Robots.

“Heeeey, Man Man.”

Man Man slowly blinked his stunning green eyes at her and meowed his low-pitched meow. Then he languidly got up and strolled to her. He rubbed his body against her legs and wheelchair, and she smiled. Man Man didn’t like most people. He wasn’t mean about it. He knew he didn’t have to be. But he’d take one look at them and then slowly... leave. Zelu always loved watching him do that. He couldn’t care less about being polite or kind. However, from the moment she’d met him five years ago when he was a kitten, she and he had hit it off nicely.

She moved herself to the couch, tossed the book on the floor, and turned on the TV. Man Man quickly jumped onto her lap and made himself comfortable. He was so big and heavy and he loved Zelu so much that she knew she wasn’t going anywhere for a while. “All right, Man Man,” she said to him as she petted his luxurious fur. She flipped through the channels and settled on a rerun ofThe Martian, a film she’d always found oddly comforting. She brought up her phone and was about to check her social media feeds when she saw that she’d gotten an email.

The subject read, “MIT Study. You interested?” It was from a Dr. Hugo Wagner.

Dear Zelunjo,

Greetings, my name is Dr. Hugo Wagner. I’m a mechanical engineer at MIT. I direct the biomechatronics research group. I’m doing some work on what are called exoskeletons for people just like you. I’ve read your novel and I absolutely loved it. I saw an interview with you... you said, “I’ve always accepted what I am; why wouldn’t I accept what I can be?” You won’t be “rusted” because I use plastic polymers, but I can make you a robot. Well, a partial robot. One who can walk really well, even run. And your exoskeletons will be weatherproof and lightweight. They will not be directly connected to your brain or nervous system, so no invasive surgery required.

This email probably sounds crazy, I know. Like a prequel to your novel. I assure you, this is the real deal. Please respond and we can have a better conversation. Just understand, this is all possible. Hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Dr. Hugo Wagner

“What the fuck?” she whispered. She almost yelped, but Man Man was asleep on her lap and she managed to hold herself back from waking him. She frowned down at her phone screen. “Um... well, first things first.” She looked at the email address. It checked out. It was an official university address. She Googled it and immediately Dr. Wagner’s faculty profile popped up. The man in the photo was tall, white, maybe in his fifties, and looked like he spent his research time at the gym. And then there was the one detail that sent shivers up her spine—

He stood leaning against a wall and wearing an expensive suit, his muscular arms folded across his chest, a knowing smirk on his face... the lower parts of his pants cut above where his knees would have been to show off his sleek, shiny prosthetic limbs.

She read his bio. He’d put the whole story right there: He’d been a mountain climber who’d lost his legs after a hang-gliding accident. And now he could climb higher, faster, and longer. He was a real-life bionic genius. “Whoa,” she whispered.

She watched his TED Talk on YouTube next, where he discussed his research on prosthetics and leg exoskeletons, though the ones in this five-year-old talk were made of metal, not plastic polymers as the email described.

She went back to the email again and triple-verified the address. She sat back and just stared at Man Man’s black fur. She petted him and he purred,deep and guttural, stretching out to drape himself more comfortably over her lap.

She rubbed her temples, tears escaping her eyes. She didn’t even know what the tears were for yet. But still they came.

“Fuck,” she murmured to herself. “I’m so broken.”

Man Man looked at her and meowed as if to say,What are you waiting for?She rubbed his fur and sighed. She didn’t need to decide anything today, but it could be interesting to speak with this guy. At the very least, like the autonomous vehicle, this would be good research for book two. She responded to his email.

A half hour later,The Martianhad finished and now an old rerun ofNarutowas on, a show she’d watched so many times that zoning out to it was like meditating. “Believe it!” Naruto proclaimed just as her phone buzzed with an email’s arrival.

She swiped away the ever-present Yebo notification of compiledRusted Robotsmedia posts and read the email. She shivered and dumped her phone on the couch beside her. “Shit,” she whispered. She tried to pick up Man Man, but he went limp and was too heavy to move. She set him back on her lap and stared at the TV, eyes unfocused. “My God, what have I done?” Then she giggled to herself, maybe a bit manically, as she realized she’d just quoted an oldie by the Talking Heads that her father loved to play.

Dr. Hugo Wagner had just responded. He wanted to meet with her immediately. In two days. He was flying into Chicago just to meet her. Her phone buzzed again. She glanced at it. Another email, this time with the name of the restaurant where he wanted to get together. It was right in Orland Park. “I’ve started something else,” she whispered.

But mixed with her anxiety was excitement. She grabbed her phone and confirmed their plans.

She spent the rest of the evening surfing YouTube for more videos about the leg exoskeletons he’d built. The structures fitted to the user’s nonfunctioning legs. Not only did they allow the user to walk, but the exos could also grant abilities beyond the human body: strength, balance,and speed. Who knew this kind of technology was available now? How come no one had told her?

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