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aware.
    He searched out the torn path the bullet had taken through his broken teeth and part of his palate.   The ache traveled through his whole face, radiated into his temple, across his whole face and around to the back of his head.   He coughed blood and bone from his mouth and a unwilled tear joined the puddle under his head.
    Hands rolled him over and he heard the jingle of bells.
    "Get him to the infirmary.   Can't have our newest Bondsman dying of blood loss, can we?"
    "Fuck no."   Then Bitch's voice was whispering at Jay's ear.   "Merry Christmas, Jaybird."
    Jay almost sat up and hit the kid, but the acute awareness, the painfully sharp cognition--
    --faded...

Chapter 6

    Why?   Why do scientists continue to simplify, dogmatically believing that DNA is everything?   Biologists have always known that the many factors of behavior cannot be narrowed down to a single cause, yet, over the years the deterministic model has become the prevailing belief.
    Why?
      -Seymore A. Grant,   "Responsible Genetics."   Oct, 2014.   http://www.responsiblegenetics.com/Past.aspx?projectId=224

    She was pretty like some part-nymph part-goddess mix.   Blue eyes and blond hair, wearing a simple white t-shirt.   She poured a dark powder straight into the hole in Jay's thigh.   Then she struck a match and dipped it into the wound.
    Fiery agony raced up and down his leg when the powder lit.   He screamed and jerked to sit but her gloved hand snatched a scalpel from a nearby bin and her fist punched him in the neck, pressing him back to the metal table with the blade edging his throat.   When he felt the chill on his bare back he noticed he was completely naked.   She didn't seem to care.   And at the moment, neither did he.   "I wish you hadn't woke just then."   The blade of the scalpel pressed into the side of his neck.   "Don't move."
    She calmly used her free hand to take up a hooked needle and thread.   She began sewing at his flesh.   Jay grit his teeth, and regretted it as another shock of discomfort went though his face.   Metallic saliva filled his mouth around the bar and again, he felt the sharpness of thought through his pain.   "I wone moove," he managed.   "Euse botf hands."   The bells clanged together as he spoke.
    "I'm fine," she said, continuing.   She was so efficient he hadn't time to recover between stitches.   "Flip."   She pulled the scalpel away and stood back with her arms crossed.
    Jay obediently turned.   The bar in his mouth spun in his sockets and the bells swung at his neck, each dull clang echoing another one.   He lightly clenched his teeth, testing and feeling the effect of the discomfort to his body.   His vision sharpened, thoughts came faster.   And he felt, honestly, a little high like he was running on a dose of adrenaline.   Now that he noticed, he felt a little odd, a little woozy.   Propped on his elbows, bare butt to the lady and...clenching, his teeth, he was able to take his mind off himself and looked around the room.
    It was well lit, like modern day hospitals with tile floors and flat white walls, but without the perfect organization and cleanliness.   A part of the side wall looked like a bomb had gone off near it.   Bins with tools soaking in them sat on carts and loose piles of bandages and cloths scattered the nearby tables.   He heard her approach him.   A firm hand gripped his ankle and the other began sewing at his wound.   Jay tried to make conversation above the sting.   "Wha Eour naaa?"   It was unintelligible, even to his own ears.   He worked his tongue around, struggling to speak.   Frustrated, he pulled at the ends of the bar, knowing it was futile before he even tried.
    "It's locked, you need a key to take it off.   And my name's Karah."
    He nodded.   "Jay," he said.   It came out more like "Day", but he didn't bother to repeat himself.   "Wherr you frm?"
    "Utah."
    "Muy twoe!"
    She didn't seem as delighted.   "Gamer asked me to give