The next morning they went to the medical facility to visit Janc. His cohort were in a special den, with a long window allowing them to look in at their master, helping to keep them calm. But they weren’t allowed into the recovery and activation room.
When Dellian and Yirella walked in, Janc was lying in the middle of a wide bed with his limbs covered in thick sleeves of green a-skin, and a broad strip across the top of his skull, running over the crown to the nape of his neck like a particularly flat Mohawk. The rubbery membranes sprouted a multitude of fiber optics that were plugged into the clinic’s genten, which monitored and modified the boost implants.
Rello was sitting on the side of the bed, holding Janc’s hand, the two of them grinning as if they’d just gotten away with some inane mischief.
“Well, you look okay,” Dellian said cheerfully.
“Feeling good,” Janc said. “I’m thinking the happy juice glands might be kicking in already.”
Yirella knew that wouldn’t be happening, but kept quiet.
“Timing is everything,” Rello said. “We were just talking about that, how fine the control is going to be, if you can trigger a gland discharge when you’re fucking. Double it up.”
“Going to be doing plenty of experimenting there,” Dellian agreed.
“Oh, yeah.”
Yirella sighed. “Don’t you boys ever think of anything else?”
“No!” the three of them replied.
“I’m not sure any of the glands are amphetamine-based. They won’t act as a serotonergic agonist.”
“You had to say that,” Rello complained.
“Whatever the crap it means.” Janc laughed.
Yirella couldn’t help her own smile. “What else did they give you?”
“Apart from the glands? The main arterial valves are in.”
“Always going to be useful when you get a limb ripped off,” Dellian said with mock enthusiasm.
Yirella knew his humor was slightly forced. Undergoing boosting had finally made it physical and actual. They really were going to be embarking on a battleship and portaling off into the galaxy. There weren’t even statistics about how many of them would survive, if any.
“If there’s any limb ripping going on, it’ll be me doing it,” Janc said. “They put the first batch of nerve induction sheaths in, too. For the larger muscles.”
“So six more batches,” Rello said, “and you’ll be fully emittive.”
Janc held a hand up to his face, flexing his fingers one at a time as if testing them. “Yeah. I didn’t realize just how many subliminal gestures we make to the little guys. It’s just natural now, you know?”
Yirella glanced over at the window where Janc’s munc cohort were looking in on them. “After all this time, they’re a part of us now, like mobile extra limbs. And you’re going to need them,” she said solemnly.
“When do they start modifying your cohort?” Dellian asked eagerly.
“Tomorrow,” Janc said.
“Aren’t you sad about that?” Yirella asked.
The boys looked at her with such incomprehension she thought she could actually hear the gulf splitting open between them. It was over, she realized; they weren’t her family of brothers anymore. Difference now outweighed love. It was all she could do not to burst into tears in front of them.
“No,” Janc said, careful not to sound indignant. “This way they’ll still be relevant to me. More than relevant: necessary. Relationships change. We’re growing up, Yirella. I don’t need a bunch of cuddly pets anymore.” He grinned up at Rello, who squeezed his hand fondly.
“Growing up,” she said distantly. “Yes, we are.”
Dellian put his arm around her, knowing something was badly wrong. “Nobody’s changing that much,” he assured her.
—
The munc center always used to be a reassuring place for Yirella. If Uma or Doony ever got knocked about, she would come to Uranti, knowing scratches and bruises would be tended to and soothed. If they’d stupidly eaten something bad, they’d get medicine and treatment in a ward. This time when she walked into the broad entrance hall that ran clean through the diameter of the dome, the old sensation of comfort was nowhere to be had. The hygienic white tile floor and light gray walls were too functional for her now, too symbolic of the true nature of muncs: artificial, doomed…
Uranti was in a treatment room at the back of the clinic, tending to a munc belonging to a boy in the clan’s fifth yeargroup. Sie smiled and waved Yirella to a seat as sie finished wrapping a cut in black a-skin. Boy and munc held hands delightedly as they were dismissed, with Uranti’s dire warnings not to exert themselves for twenty-four hours following them out.
“The arena?” Yirella asked.
Uranti stripped the sanitary gloves from hir hands. “Field hockey. I have no idea which genius thought it would be a good idea to give muncs hockey sticks that they can wave around on a crowded field.” Sie sighed, shaking hir head. “This whole bonding procedure is one giant malleable experiment.” Sie looked around. “Where are yours?”
“Back at the house.”
“Really? Don’t they mind being apart from you?”