Page 27 of Master
"Thank God for new knees!" I muttered. "Let's go."
Tarook sat off, shortening his stride so I could walk beside him.
“New knees?” he asked as we neared the edge of the clearing.
I chuckled at the confusion on his face… it was cute.
“Well, if you want to be technical, I guess it's really 'old knees'. At least I won't need to think about a knee replacement again for the next forty years.”
“Humans have developed cybernetic knees?" He held back a low-hanging branch for me to pass.
"Of a sort." I never got into the technical portion during my orthopedist visit. The amount of pain and rehab it would take to walk after surgery was more daunting.
“Why did you need cybernetic knees? Your body is beautiful.”
I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew, then recalled that he had, in fact, seen me naked.
“My knees worked fine when I was in my twenties," I snorted. "But my body was considerably older before they ran me through that machine.”
Tarook pursed his lips, taking in my answer, then asked. “What were you like—on Earth—before the machine?”
“I had the body of a sixty-five-year-old and felt every ache of it," I told him, refraining from going into detail about the pain and stiffness of osteoarthritis.
“Sixty-five? That's not old.” Tarook quirked a brow at me.”
“It’s elderly on Earth,” I insisted and wondered. “How old are you?”
“One hundred and thirty-four, my last birth rotation.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Holy shit!" I wouldn't have guessed a day over thirty based on his physique. A very well-kept thirty. "How long do your kind live?”
Tarook shrugged, stepping before me as we moved into the tree line. “When a Vaktaire reaches three hundred birth rotations, they are considered at an advanced age.”
“Emmy said the healer thing extended my life span. Will I live to be three hundred?" The idea wasn't appealing… surely one got bored by, say, one seventy-five.
“We have little data on how long the healer extends human lifespan. The Trogvyk only began using the healer on humans in the last one hundred years.” Tarook paused, then led me to the left to avoid a vicious thorn. “So far, the studies indicate that once a human goes through the healer, they physically age one year for every seven.”
“That’s like reverse dog years,” I mused.
“Dog years?”
I launched into an explanation of dogs and pets in general and the concept of dog years. It was tedious and reminded me of explaining particle mass acceleration to high school freshman. Still, it passed the time as we maneuvered through the thicket.
Tarook took care with each step, making sure I didn’t get swiped, poked, or jabbed. Curtis, thankfully, had only been into the outdoors if it came with a fairway and water hazard. Our hikes were lazy meanders around the neighborhood. I stayed in shape with tennis and Pilates.
Those two summers I'd spent with foster parents, Ed and Judy, traipsing through every forest in six natural parks were enough to last me a lifetime. I still had scars from the mosquito bites.
At least there didn't seem to be any bugs here. Of course, I was thinking in terms of Earth bugs. For all I knew, bugs on this planet grew to the size of buses.
God, I hoped not.
Honestly, the forest wasn't that bad. It was thick, but Tarook led us on what looked like a small game trail. Twin suns pushed the chill from the air without making it too warm. Overhead, the sounds of birdcall and wind-rustled branches accompanied our trek.
"Some people treat their animals like human babies?" Tarook frowned, and I wasn't sure if it was from side-stepping a nasty-looking bush or the concept of fur babies.
"Some do." I chuckled. "My husband, Curtis, worked with a woman whose dog had more clothes than I did.”
Tarook snorted, his expression plainly stating the ridiculousness of the idea. In answer, my stomach gave a loud, angry grumble.
