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The weeks slowly tick by. I’m busy, working on half a dozen different projects, as well as keeping an eye on the progress of patients using both MAX and THOR, but I manage to keep an eye on Finn most times he’s in. His birthday comes and goes, so he’s now eleven. He’s making good progress, and trying hard. Juliette eases him into the rehab program, beginning with exercises to strengthen the muscles in his legs that he hasn’t used for a while and getting him used to the exoskeleton before starting to work on the psoas muscle that overlies the vertebral column, and other major muscles around his hips and lower back.
From what I’ve seen, patients on the program tend to be split into two different groups. Many get excited at the progress they’re making, and their charts show a gradual rise in effort and improvement. But some people’s charts are a series of peaks and troughs, especially in the early days. Once their initial enthusiasm wanes, they realize there’s a long, tough road ahead of them, and suddenly it all becomes too hard.
Finn falls into the second group. After a few weeks, the novelty of working with a robot wears off, and as Juliette pushes him to work harder and do more, he reaches breaking point. One Friday, I’m in my office on a Zoom call with Damon in Wellington, discussing one of our joint projects, when my phone buzzes, and I see it’s Kaia, one of Juliette’s assistants.
“Can you hold on a sec?” I ask Damon. “I just need to take a call.”
“Sure.”
I answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Alex, it’s Kaia. Can you come to THOR’s room? Juliette’s having trouble with Finn.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up and go back to Damon. “Gotta go, dude, sorry.”
“No worries. Catch you later.” He ends the call.
I leave the office, jog along the corridor to the physio rooms, and go through THOR’s door.
Juliette and Kaia are halfway through undoing the straps that hold Finn in place in the exoskeleton, talking to Finn, whose face is scarlet with fury.
“It’s all right,” Juliette’s saying calmly, “I’m nearly done. Just a couple more.”
“I want to get out!” he yells, tugging at the clips on his thighs.
I stride across to them and release the clip he’s trying to yank off. “Hey, dude. What’s going on?”
Juliette gives me a relieved glance. “We were doing some quite strenuous exercises, and I think he just got tired and a bit overwhelmed.”
“I’m not tired!” he screams at her.
I don’t reply, concentrating on the final clips, while the other two finish the ones on his lower legs. As soon as he’s free, I lift him out of the exoskeleton and into his wheelchair. He pushes me away, then covers his face, his chest heaving.
I glance at Juliette, who looks upset. “I think I pushed him too far,” she murmurs. “He was quiet when he came in, and I should have realized he was tired.”
“It happens.” I gesture at the door. “You two go and have a cup of coffee. I’ll sit with Finn for a while.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, go on.”
I wait until they’re both gone, then sit on the bench beside Finn. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped, but I don’t touch him.
“They’ve gone,” I tell him. “It’s just me and you.”
He lowers his hands. He’s trying hard not to cry.
“She kept saying I wasn’t trying hard enough.” He trembles with pent-up fury and frustration. “And I am. I’m really trying. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not getting any better. My fucking legs won’t work!” He hammers on them with his fists.
“Hey, stop.” I get up and grab his wrists, then just manage to move back in time as he swings for me.
I straighten and put my hands on my hips. “Do you really want to punch me?”
“Fuck off!” he yells.
“Are you trying to shock me? Because it won’t work. I’m pretty sure I know more swear words than you do.”
“I hate you!”
