Samuel knew before he opened his eyes, that something had gone wrong. The light was too bright, searing until he finally managed to cover his face with his hands. He lay there like this for a moment until finally, the light dissolved. The pain he didn’t notice until its sunset, did as well.
He opened his eyes and sat up. Correct, he was in the recovery room. Not a good sign. Rolling over, he stood up and wrapped the small blanket around him, and rummaged in the closet for a fresh pair of clothes. After he found something, he dressed in the quiet until he realized.
The internal monologue he had grown so used to was gone. Every thought he had was purposeful, and wandered on a shorter leash. He wasn’t devoid of wonderment, but nothing had crossed the boundaries of despair, nothing had imagined or theorized, nothing had played the fool or honked like a clown.
Nothing yet. So it worked. He wasn’t foolish enough to start testing the open core abilities now, but his horizon looked to be made of smooth waters. At least for the time being.
He turned to see Maxwell standing in his doorway, arms folded, eyes down, as he so commonly saw him in this last week.
“How’s your brain?” Max asked neutrally.
“Fine. More exact. I’m thinking clearly. Won’t be testing anything strenuous until tomorrow,” he said.
“Good,” Maxwell said. The silence after was that of a repainted hue, as if he were waiting for Samuel to take the next initiative. He didn’t, to the hanging silence’s expiration date’s dismay. Maxwell pulled in a breath. He let it out like a drag.
“That’s the last one I do for you.”
Sam couldn’t help but feel a sigh of relief form in him. Traditional faire.
“You said that last time.”
“I mean it this time.”
“You also said that last time.”
Before Sam could button the first on his shirt, Max’s palm was on his chest. Samuel paused for a second, noting the white plain skin that pressed against tanned abs. Still as a child. But Max’s looks betrayed the heat that he felt on his palm.
“I nearly killed you. So next time you ask me to shoot you I’m going to just do it. At least then it won’t be an accident. I’ll take on your data, I’ll throw my program in the trash, and I’ll finish what you’ve started. Is that enough recompence for you? To make you being dead okay? Is it??”
Max’s eyes pooled. Sam felt it, the wandering thought, and its leash broke. He grabbed Max’s hand, held it in both of his, and bent his height down low to meet his forehead to Max’s shoulder.
“Dammit, Max. Damn you.”
“Damn you.”
He wanted to tell Max that he would do it himself next time. He wanted to thank him for the surgery, but inform him that he wasn’t necessary. He felt the distance in his mind between him and Max, between how foolish he looked now and what he wanted, really wanted. He would do another surgery and another, he would need to. But he couldn’t bring himself to do or say any of these things right now.
Because this one had not been successful.

“Sam!”
He had them all now, he thought at least, maybe at least half now, he had in his arms. He could take the cores back and get them recovered.
“Sam!”
Dammit, he could hear them. There was nothing he could do, I’m sorry, just let me take you somewhere safe. You’re going to be fine, once you’re in the Anthill we’ll recover you and put you all back together. You don’t have to live here anymore. It’s going to be all right.
“Sam!”
He wished--
“Sam!”
He looked up to see the grate way had been opened, Maxwell was there, a good yard up standing on the street curb. Headlights flooded the trash-heap and Sam, holding his cradle of rescues, looked up at him in a stunned stupor.
“Sam, what happened to him?”
“What?”
“Florence. The human. Did you see what happened to him?”
Samuel fell to his knees before he could answer, hugging the metal he held in his arms. Max cursed from above.
“Sam, come on, grab my hand!” Maxwell bent down at the concrete’s edge and reached for him. Wide eyes and clean skin, betrayed and betrayed again, forever to not look or act his age. A cute letter of urgency. And now it told Sam to move. He shuffled through towards the concrete wall and looked down at his arms. He had to reach. But he felt nothing there, as if they had both fallen asleep and were dead to the world. This convulsion of arms stared back at him. Which one was his?
He looked up.
“Sam, come on. You need to grab my hand. We can come back for them, I can, I’ll make sure to get them. You just need to get out of there.”
What had happened to that human? What had happened? Sam tried to remember.
“Grab my hand.”
Samuel looked down. All he saw was steel.
“I can’t. He’s still here. I tried getting rid of him but I can’t.”
He choked. He was choking on tears. He was choking on blood.
“I can’t.”