Bionic Agent Read Online Free PDF Page A

broken most people’s spirit. But not you. Your body decided it could take more
punishment.”
    “I didn’t always want to live.”
    “Listen. I did some research on you. You were pretty good at tennis. Do you know how many times you came back from losing sets to win matches?”
    “Er... A few times.”
    “More than a few. It looks to me as if the worse things get, the harder you battle.”
    “I was bigger and stronger than most of the boys I played against. That’s all.”
    Angel shook his head. “There’s more to it than muscles. You have to have something special up here,” he said, tapping the side of his head, “not to give up when
you’re a long way behind. For ordinary mortals, not wanting to carry on is a natural reaction straight after something as traumatic as you’ve been through, but your body was in no mood
to give up. It would’ve been far easier to die than live but... You’re still with us. Anyway, if there was a moment of doubt, it didn’t last long and it was that other boy’s
thinking. Ben Smith. He’s gone. You’re Jordan and up for it. And I’ve got more challenges for you.”
    Jordan grimaced. “Like what?”
    “We need to work on your sense of smell. And your hearing. I’m tired of shouting at you.”
    “You’re not shouting.”
    “No, but you miss a lot. We need to sort that out. That’s one reason you’ve got holes in your head. You need another brain implant. We can do some really clever things with
sensory data – on the very edge of today’s technology. Tomorrow’s technology really. And there’s physiotherapy. Lots of it. On top of everything else, you’re going to
learn how to use your arm. I can’t lie to you. It’s going to take a long time, but you’ll control it by thinking. Just like a real arm. Your nerves will activate... Enough.
You’ll see.”
    The first phase of his transformation was complete. He had endured being rebuilt. Now, he had to learn how to use his new body. But Jordan was no wiser about his new life.
Angel still hadn’t told him what lay at the end of his long treatment.
    His time in Unit Red was like a never-ending school day, chopped up into periods. Period 1: learning to keep different regions of the visual spectrum apart. Period 2: pinpointing the exact
location of sounds. Period 3: using thoughts to communicate with his brain implants. Period 4: a real lesson with a real tutor. Double period 5-6: the infuriatingly slow training to master the
artificial arm. Evening homework: extra arm exercises and physiotherapy. Next day: start all over again. And the next: more of the same.
    His life was as splintered as his body. At least his new name was beginning to work. He didn’t always feel burdened by a painful past. He was becoming Jordan Stryker, without a past.
    Picking up an egg without breaking it was a very easy task for an arm, hand and fingers. But it was a major undertaking for his robotic replacement. The stupid gadget reached out and, if the
artificial fingers managed to encircle an egg without knocking it over, they clenched awkwardly until they crushed it. His bionic right arm didn’t know its own strength. It smashed the egg
every time. And it did the same to mugs, door handles, remote controls, plates – anything.
    Frustrated and annoyed, Jordan raised his false arm and crashed it down on a box of eggs. The eggs shattered, the carton broke and the table underneath collapsed with a huge dent in its top.
    Angel laughed. A pleasant laugh, not a cruel jibe. “Hey. Remind me not to shake hands with you. Not yet anyway. I’ve never seen the medical room splattered with so many eggs. It
doesn’t matter. I’ll put the chickens on overtime.”
    “Holding an egg!” Jordan cried. “A toddler could do it.”
    “With a real arm, yes. But you’re learning to use something else. It’s much more difficult. If it helps you to get angry, though, get angry. It’s all good practice. Like
a martial arts expert