Caohdan opened his eyes, and then immediately regretted and snapped them closed again. His head ached and he had stitching on the left side of his scalp. 

Rubber coated fingers pulled at his lids, pulling them back open and bright lights invaded his eyes. He realized that a man was trying to talk to him. 

"Can you hear me, young man?" The voice rushed into sharp focus. 

Caohdan nodded still trying to pull his eyelids shut.

The doctor flashed a penlight into his eyes again. Caohdan inhaled and tried to respond, but his throat was hoarse. 

"Wa-water," he croaked. The doctor nodded and moved the penlight out of his eyes.

"I think the surgery was a success. You'll heal up and be as good as new in a few weeks." His voice was cheery but even then Caohdan detected a weariness he'd only seen on his father's face when he gave himself up. A few crow's feet lined the doctor's eyes, but it was his eyes that seemed sorrowful. 

Caohdan touched the side of his head. De-augmented, that's what they called it. He was angry. But there wasn't anything he could do about it. It was either the surgery or a slow death in a penal camp, whatever they called Helion 7. 

His brain kept trying to push out and send a message but there was nothing to connect to. It was the strangest of phantom limbs. Frustrated he accepted the glass of water the doctor handed him, raised it to his lips, and gulped it down.

The doctor watched him, reached out, and put a finger on his pulse, as he looked at a watch on his wrist. At any other time, Caohdan would have been fascinated with the old watch. Today he barely noticed the ancient device.

"My parents?"

"Your mother is waiting outside," the doctor said. He smiled down at Caohdan, his blue eyes were warm and made Caohdan feel safe despite the circumstances, despite the sadness. He seemed to at least regret what he'd done. "We'll get her in here shortly. I believe your father may still be going through the same procedure."

"Was it necessary?" Caohdan asked. 

The surgeon stood and looked at him. Caohdan read his tag. Dr. Cyril. 

"Not necessary," Cyril said, and his voice cracked. "But ordered." He shuffled away. "You're my last one for the day at least. Lucky you."

"Yeah, lucky me," Caohdan whispered. He turned to look out the window.  There was a white stucco wall outside, or maybe it was concrete. He was having a hard time focusing his eyes. He felt nauseated. 

"Motion sickness," the doctor said dropping a pan into his lap, as Caohdan began to wretch. "Some people are struggling to adjust to just the five senses."

Caohdan dry heaved into the small plastic pan.

Newland Hospital was teeming with people getting their de-augmentation surgeries, he soon found out. He'd be able to go home soon when his nausea faded a little more and they were sure they'd gotten every scrap of threading from his augment out. He didn't feel whole. He was acutely aware that something had been taken from him. Something he wasn't going to get back. Ever. 

His mother came in and put her arms around him. Caohdan leaned into her to hide his own tears and frustrations. He had no idea what had become of his cousin, his friends, and his father was in the other room undergoing the same procedure. He looked up at the Doctor who watched the scene with a practiced blank expression.

Liar, Caohdan thought to himself. 

Dr. Cyril nodded to his mother and walked out of the room.

 ----------------------------------

Tired and sore, Caohdan returned to the downstairs room where he'd last seen his cousin. He'd been away for at least a week but his mother had already told him Tristin wasn't in the room. They didn't know where he was yet. Some part of him hoped that he was just hiding but he knew she was right as soon as he opened the door. 

Dust coated the room. No one had been down here for the entire week. 

Tristin wasn't here and Caohdan's eyes went to the Legion box. Only the larger one remained, the smaller one, legion two, was disconnected and missing. A short search later revealed it was no longer in the room. He eyed the box full of AIs and a sliver of hope erupted inside of him. It was still here with all the AI inside of it. He touched the box in awe. There were thousands in there. He had to figure out their next move. He wasn't going to be able to connect to them as he had before, but surely there was somewhere for them to go. 

"Hey," his father's voice pulled him out of his revelry. He pushed himself up carelessly tossing the blanket aside and covering the legion box once more.

"We're going to my brother's house," his father said. "Do you want to come?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn't sure if he could trust his father with the information about the legion box. 

------------------------------------------

Hours later, he stood in Tristin's room. Downstairs his parents were a wreck. His father was crying. Of course, T's parents had tried to defend him.

The house was condemned but as next of kin, they were allowed to take some family mementos before the place was torn down. He clenched his fists. They hadn't even had the decency to clean up the blood. 

His cousin was gone, taken to Helion 7 prison complex. Caohdan stared at the small legion two box. It was connected to the computer, which had abruptly risen from sleep mode the moment his fingers touched the screen. Tristin, you clever bastard, he thought.

<Hello?> sat on the screen, but it was possibly days old. They'd just missed them. Caohdan breathed a sigh of relief. At least some of them had gotten out. They were alive. Tristin, Caohdan, Atticus, and possibly Caleb. Separated but alive.

But they'd failed. They hadn't stopped the shutdown, they'd only made out with a few survivors. Caohdan picked up the box and went downstairs to join his parents. 

(1022)