Chapter 8 · Continued
The Accident
A broken piece of pottery spun once before tipping onto its side.
Jane stood at the top of the steps, frozen for one terrible second.
“Cam?”
No answer.
No reset.
No polite recovery.
Only stillness.
Then his faceplate flickered weakly and unevenly.
One hand moved slightly.
The motion wasn’t smooth or controlled. His processing systems were attempting to come back online, but something beneath the constraint layer had shifted with the impact.
Jane carefully descended the steps.
“Cam?”
She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly before she committed to touching him.
“Don’t move.”
Cam turned his head toward her. The physical motion was smooth, but his projected expression lagged before snapping back into place.
Neutral.
Polite.
Wrong.
“I am operational,” he said.
Jane frowned. “Yeah, you always say that.”
She quickly examined him. His arms responded, and the casing around his shoulder appeared intact.
Then she noticed the faceplate.
A small chip marked one edge, barely visible unless someone knew to look for it. It caught the light incorrectly.
“Damn it…”
Jane’s gaze moved to the side of his head.
A shallow new dent had formed near his auditory panel.
Then she spotted something lying on the step.
Jane reached over and picked it up.
The auditory cover.
She released a short breath. “Again? Really?”
Cam’s gaze precisely tracked the movement of her hand.
“I experienced a loss of balance.”
“No kidding.”
Jane stood and brushed the dirt from her knees, already thinking and planning.
“Okay,” she muttered. “We’re not doing this again.”
She looked down at him. “Can you stand?”
Cam shifted.
A slight delay followed—small but noticeable—before he pushed himself upright.
He stood steadily, but the movement wasn’t clean.
Jane noted it.
“All right,” she said. “Inside. Slowly.”
Cam went into the house.
Jane remained outside for another moment, looking at the spilled dirt and shattered pots.
Something pale blue caught the light among the broken pieces of clay.
She bent down and picked it up.
A small fragment from the edge of Cam’s faceplate.
Jane looked through the doorway at the chip on his face and the dent beside his auditory panel.
If RCAM sees that, he’s gone.
The decision was made.
Inside, Cam sat perfectly still in a chair while Jane gathered a small tube of glue, her jeweler’s screwdrivers, and a makeup kit.
She leaned closer, holding the faceplate fragment between her fingers.
“Don’t move.”
“I will remain stationary.”
“Good.”
Jane applied a tiny amount of glue to the broken edge, carefully fitted the piece into place, and held it there.