“They’re ready for you.”
The nurse’s voice was gentle.
He sat with his hat in his lap, staring at the hospital waiting room floor like it might tell him what God wanted. His folks had always been clear, your body was His gift and not yours to cut into. He could hear his mom singing hymns, they rang in loud as the last demo he’d recorded.
For a long time, he’d kept himself pure. In the Belt, purity was gospel.
He’d seen the kids in Nashville sporting off-the-shelf carbon joints, mirrored ocular glass. Anything to stand out in the crowd, get noticed, get signed.
And he hadn’t needed it. He’d been found regardless. From singing in church back in Tyler, to coffee shops and bars in Nashville. And then the dream, A+R meetings, a deal, a hit.
A country hit. Not the mainstream hit his record company wanted next.
This wasn’t about learning to walk. Not fixing something broken. He was already whole and hale. This was about shine. The promise of Morizono Systems. Haute couture augmentation, silver filigree legs that shone under the lights. Help carry him across from country to pop. From local hero to global name.
He thought about Texas nights. Dust, barns, fireflies. Music for neighbors, not for metrics. He thought about faith, and what purity meant, whether vanity and destiny went together.
The nurse held the door open for him. A future waiting in chrome and a bigger contract.
Body whole, heart torn, he rose. Walked in ready to lay himself down. Not from need, but from hunger.
A story from the Static Drift universe.