The last thing I remember before going under is my parents beaming down at me, eyes full of love and hope and determination while they waited for the anesthesia to take effect. Even as the sleepiness took over, I remember being excited. I remember thinking, when I wake up, I'll have new legs! I'll be able to walk like a normal human again!

As I swim toward consciousness, the grogginess is like a forest of seaweed entangling me. Thankfully there's no actual risk of drowning, and I eventually work my way to the surface. The first thing I notice when I wake up is—

Drip.

Ugh, what is dripping on my face?? Dad better not be sweating on me. I know he can really get into his work sometimes.

Another drip falls onto my cheek. "Dad, stop it," I mumble. My voice slurs, like I've been drinking. Which isn't fair because the only alcohol in the house is for disinfecting things.

No one replies.

I move an arm to wipe the moisture off my face, only my arm won't move.

That's odd. My arms are weak, but I should at least be able to move them.

I try again but only succeed in twitching two fingers.

Okay, stay calm. People coming out of anesthesia in movies are always woozy and uncoordinated. As soon as Mom or Dad see me flailing about like a fish, they'll come help me.

Another drip spurs me to try harder. My whole arm spasms and flops onto my face. "Ow."

Where is Dad anyway? He said he'd be here when I woke up, to guide me with my new legs.

I pry my eyes open. They feel gritty and sluggish. Every part of me feels gritty and sluggish.

"Dad?" I croak while I wait for my eyes to focus. "Mom?"

The only sounds are drips of water around me.

I get my arm to slither off my face and squint at the ceiling. Water runs along the cracks there, dripping in random places and trickling down walls. The room is dimly lit by a single lamp pointed at my legs.

My new legs!

With an excited jolt, I lift my head to look at them.

Wow. They're... they look just like real legs! Toned and shapely, unlike the wasted-away chopsticks I had before. He even managed to match my pale skin tone.

When Uncle Robbie volunteered to let my father fit him with a prototype, he ended up with a hideous monstrosity made of metal rods and wires. It made him look like he had stepped right out of a science fiction movie. These legs look nothing like that.

I wiggle my toes. They feel stiff but responsive. "Mom! Dad! This is awesome!"

I push myself up to my elbows. The sluggishness is still there, but receding.

I still haven't heard any replies. "Hey, Mom? Dad?"

Where are my parents?

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Odd that I'm not hooked up to any IV bags, heart monitor, or other machinery like other post-op patients. I'm not going to complain, though. Who wants to be attached to a bunch of tubes and computers?

The room is tiny, like a walk-in closet. A built-in countertop runs along one wall with assorted scientific equipment. Above it is a mounted shelf of books. A chair with a backpack sits next to the bed. It's like a weird little lab in here, but it's a room I've never seen before.

What am I doing in here? Am I even at home anymore?

And where is the door?

My head swivels back and forth, but there seem to be no door frames, doorknobs, or anything door-related.

I resist the growing sense of uneasiness and focus on trying to stand. I haven't been wobble-free since I was eleven.

With a firm grip on the bed's foot rail, I push off the mattress and onto my feet.

I don't fall over. So far, so good.

I take one step.

My knees don't shudder like they used to.

Another step. Then another.

I can't believe I'm walking! It's like I never stopped.

I grin as I traverse the small room without so much as a limp. "Dad, you're a genius."

The reminder that I'm alone in this weird room melts the grin off my face. I start searching for clues and immediately find a soggy note on the counter.

Elara,

You are the best parts of us both, and we love you dearly. Please forgive us. Look for your Uncle Robbie!

Love,

Mom and Dad

The handwriting is hastily scrawled, like they were rushing. I read it three more times and scratch my head. Forgive them? For what? I'm walking! Whatever it is they think they did, I can forgive them for that one reason alone.

Next to the note is a small, plastic storage box, maybe two inches by four inches. I wipe water off the lid and open it. Black foam fills the inside, small slots cut into it, and each slot hugs a data chip for a total of five data chips. They must have left these for me. I've seen Dad use these kinds of chips to store his lab notes, and Mom sometimes records video logs about her surgeries.

My eyes immediately dart to the tablet next to the box. It's got a built-in chip reader, so I press the power button.

Nothing happens.

I shake the water off the tablet, wipe it on the hospital gown I'm wearing, and try again.

Nothing.

"Damn." It's probably water-damaged. I jab at the button several more times before dropping the thing onto the counter with a clunk.

The rest of the stuff on the table doesn't appear to be anything useful, so I turn to the backpack. It's dry inside, and I find a set of clothes, a flashlight, some tools, and a walkie-talkie.

I pick up the walkie-talkie. The note had said to find Uncle Robbie. Maybe I'm supposed to use this?

I click it on. Its digital interface displays the channel that's already been set on it. Now what?

I recall movies I'd seen where they used these things to talk, so I press the button on the side and hold it to my mouth. "Hello?"

Silence.

I try it again. "Hello, is anyone there?"

I hold the radio to my ear, wondering if maybe the volume is low, but I still hear nothing.

"Someone, please pick up." I hear the panic starting to rise in my voice. I woke up alone in a strange room with no doors or windows, and nothing but a cryptic note to comfort me. Is it any wonder I'm unnerved?

The radio crackles in my hand. "Elara? Is that really you? Over."

I nearly drop the radio as I fumble to press the button. "Yes! It's me! Is that you, Uncle Robbie? I'm stuck in this little room. Do you know where Mom and Dad are?"

"One thing at a time, Ellie. Yes, I'm your Uncle Robbie. I can't believe—well, anyway. First things first." He sounds like he's running now. "Let's get you out of that safe room. Over."

My parents have a safe room? "Why am I in a safe room? And why are there no doors?"

He doesn't answer.

"Uncle Robbie?"

"Hang tight. It's going to take some time to clear the rubble. Over and out."

Rubble? This day is getting weirder and weirder. "What are you talking about?"

"Elara." His voice is stern over the radio now. "Just wait, all right? I'll find you. Over and out." He says the last word like a command for me to shut up.

Questionstumble through my mind as I sit on the bed. I glance down at my legs again,marveling at how real they look. I poke at them, searching for a lineseparating the cybernetic limbs from my own flesh, but can't find any. I had noidea my dad had gotten this good athis work. I swing them back and forth, involuntarily smiling at my feet. Myparents did it. They really did it. They made me human again.

It's easy to take things for granted. If you can walk, appreciate that. If you have doors, open them. If you can vote...