Harbinger: A Journal of Art & Literature | 2018-2019

system. A moment passed, and it came on, a stream of hot coffee falling into the cup.
Travis imagined pushing his fake hand under the stream and the nanobot skin burning
away, revealing tiny the nanobots underneath, all scrambling to hide as their cover was
burned away. The coffee was not hot enough to burn the nanobot skin away, Travis
knew that, and abandoned the fantasy. His cup was full, the stream of coffee had stopped
while he let his imagination run rampant. Careful not to spill the dark liquid, he walked
to the table and sat down across from Dr. Larson.
Larson studied him, his warm green eyes were framed with gray eyebrows and high
cheekbones, divided by an aquiline nose. His lifelong work had been designing the nanobots
that were used to rebuild Travis’ body, though they had not been created with the
intention of bringing anyone back to life. Three months of breakfasting with Larson and
Travis had never felt that the older man was lording his accomplishment over him.
“Dr. Cinta says you are ready to start reintegrating into daily life.”
Travis turned his cup, watching the surface ripple with the motion. His psychologist
was not aware of the things Travis told Larson in their conversations. Larson had
religiously kept his word that he would never share anything Travis confided in him. “I
would like to do something…”
“Being static is not good for a man. How are your readings going?”
“Good enough. The Classics were easy to master.”
“If you run out of topics, let me know.”
“I would like to discuss some things with someone who has also studied history
and philosophy.”
Larson took a draft of his coffee. “I believe you have far surpassed what is taught these
days, even in the Church.”
“Could you spare the time?”
“Happily, though it will be infrequent. Your resurrection did not bring the end of my
research.”
“Of course.”
Travis could feel Larson studying him as he stared down at his coffee, gently bumping
the cup to agitate the surface.
“Perhaps the Church could provide you with someone to discuss history with. They
may not advocate it being taught to the populace, but there are many learned men that
inhabit the Vatican,” Larson waved a hand, “and here too, though they might not welcome
being pulled away from their research.”
Travis looked up at Larson, at the tuft of white hair that fell over his brow, matching
the white lab coat that he wore, the pocket straining to hold a collection of pens and
notepads.
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