Part Two:

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As an avid outdoorsman, it felt as if his life was over after the accident robbed Trevor of the use of his legs. He felt like a prisoner inside his home, inside his own body. He missed the mountain air and the weekends in the wilderness with his family.

The release of the advanced prosthetic exosuits offered him a lifeline. He considered it for a long time, weighing the benefits against the heavy sacrifices. His non-functioning limbs would be removed. His torso would be slotted into the cushioned cradle of the mechanical pelvis, steel joints cemented and irreversible fused into his bones. Wiring would be threaded through his spinal column.

They showed him a demonstration. Trevor was dismayed at the functionality. The narrow, exposed struts of the male chassis moved clumsily, struggling to climb a flight of stairs with their limited sensitivity, let alone a mountain. And the batteries could barely a mile on the flat. Range anxiety was an understatement if, should his prosthetic body hit 0% battery, his depowered limbs would become nothing but inert dead weight. Even with the augmentations, he'd still be trapped, leashed to the nearest plug socket.

"If you're desperate for range, there is one exosuit we can offer," the surgeon said hesitantly. "But this model is normally reserved for women."

"Would it get me to the end of the road and back without burning out?"

The surgeon nodded. "It's the batteries, you see. They have to go somewhere, and the thighs and buttocks have much greater capacity in the female model. The legs can go all day on a single charge."

"What about the insurance? There's no way they'd cover a female model for a man."

"Ah. Which brings me to the other issue. In order to make you compatible, to make you fit, there would need to be an excision of additional flesh. Once we were done with you, you'd no longer be a man. Your penis would need to go."

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A month later, he was back in the hills. His exosuit legs moved with his thoughts as smoothly as if they were his own, striding over the rocky terrain with the confidence of a mountain goat, never slowing, never tiring.

There was none of the alienness to the new limbs that he'd been fearing. It all felt natural, seamless, his broad, swaying hips and thick thighs feeling as much a part of him as if they were his own flesh. Even the alpine breeze tickling against his soft, silicone orifices didn't phase him.

He paused atop a boulder for his sons to catch up, his jutting, lithium-ion ass gleaming in the sunlight. He wasn't even out of breath.

"You two better not be hanging back there for the view," he called back at their red, panting faces.

"Ew, gross, dad!"

"I preferred him when he was in the wheelchair," the other wheezed sarcastically.

As he waited, Trevor reached behind him, retrieving his sandwiches from a compartment in his spacious right buttock, and stared around at the cloud-shrouded mountain peaks that ringed the valley while he ate. They were tantalizingly out of reach. How much additional battery capacity would it take to reach those? he wondered. His eyes were drawn to the empty space of his chest. There was always room for upgrades.