So today's piece is about Tom and his broken robotic arm. And since my entire knowledge of prosthetics comes from the final scene of The Empire Strikes Back, it is super unrealistic. Also, he turns the lights off with his TV remote at one point. I think it is safe to assume that Tom is in the FUTURE, where crap like this is possible. Good luck with this one.
Tom sat down in his favorite chair. He looked down at his left arm, still holding the rigid pose it had taken right before he left the bar. Cautiously, he moved his right index finger over the small green button at the pit of his elbow. His fingers came alive, dancing to some crazy music. His hand began to spin at the wrist counter clockwise, going faster and faster. He pressed the button again and his lively arm went still again.
"Damn," he said. He picked up a Phillips head screwdriver from a small TV tray to his left. He moved further up his arm, above the elbow. He nudged aside a flap of rubbery flesh and inserted the tool into a small hole. He twisted for a good twenty seconds, eventually producing a screw that was half an inch long. He moved around his arm, repeating the process three more times. He was about to place the fourth screw on the table, when it slid out of his fingers and fell to the floor, rolling under the chair. He decided to get it later.
He moved the small table from his side to in front of him, and rested his left arm on top of it. With the screws removed, all that remained was to give the arm a twist and to disconnect the main cord. He turned and pulled, revealing the plastic inner workings of his prosthesis. It was white with a black rubber trim. The part on his upper arm formed a perfectly rounded stub, with indentations all around the side where the fake skin covered the screws. From the top of the dome, a thick segmented cord connected what was left of his real arm to his fake one. it was fat in the middle, and with a quick yank, the plug was disconnected at the center.
Now came the hard part. Tom put the screwdriver down and pressed firmly against his forearm. With a deep thunk, the fleshy panel sunk into his arm. Tom removed his hand, and the panel slowly folded out and to the right, revealing the wires and servos underneath. Tom pushed the glasses sliding off his nose back up, and looked over the small maze of connections. Nothing seemed to be obviously broken.
With a sigh, Tom slid the table forward and got up, leaving his arm behind. He went into the kitchen and began looking through his drawers. He eventually came across the small leather pouch he was looking for. It was tucked into the back of a drawer that was almost completely stuck closed. he pulled the zipper on the case open, checking that everything he required was inside. An assortment of smaller screwdrivers and a pair of tweezers. Lengths of replacement wires and five skinny metal rods of varying length. There was also a small folded instruction booklet, with the words written simultaneously in three languages. He zipped the case closed, and returned to the chair.
Tom sat down and picked up the remote. He hit a button, and all the lights in his living room came on at full strength. He opened the tool case and pulled the instructions out. Tom unfolded the document completely, turning it into a sixty four squared blanket of technical drawings. He flipped it over twice and rotated it once, trying to position the words just right. He found the troubleshooting section, checking each suggested problem. Was the device dirty? No. Was it moving the pinkie finger instead of the thumb? No. Was the indicator light blinking in a semi-rapid manner? No.
"What the hell do you do if the damn thing is possessed?" Tom asked himself. The instructions didn't answer him. Tom realized that he would have to call tech support. But he also realized that no decent human being was awake now if they could help it. He tried halfheartedly to fold the instructions back up again, but found it too difficult to do with only one hand. He pushed the table away from him with his foot, and picked up the remote again to turn on the television.
Tom found a documentary about the indigenous peoples of Australia. He pushed another button on the remote and the lights int he room began to fade. As he slumped in his chair watching people chant and dance around a fire, Tom wished that he still had the will to get that screw from underneath the chair. He knew he would never find it in the morning.
We know times are tough Tom, but you got to keep it positive, man! Chin up!
