Katie arrives at the location Fiona sent over, looks up and down the street, and is confused.

“Where the heck is this place?” All the shops seem closed, and there’s nothing even slightly resembling a bar nearby. While standing around and trying to find some more details on her phone, Fiona’s car pulls up next to her.

The window rolls down, and Fiona asks, “Confused? This place is really difficult to find unless you know where to go.” She steps out, and winces slightly as she bumps one of her newly-installed cybernetic antennae on the doorframe. She quickly composes herself and adjusts her clothing; although she’s in her casual wear, it’s still immaculately coordinated and tailored.

As soon as she shuts her door, her car takes off on its own to find a parking spot. “Follow me, it’s one of those hidden speakeasy kind of places.”

Katie follows behind, limping very slightly from the beginnings of a mechanical problem in one of her legs.

“You see that door?” Fiona points up ahead. “How many law offices just say “Law Office” without the names of the overpaid lampreys inside plastered all over it?”

They walk in, and an immediate staircase takes them to the dimly-lit basement. The overstuffed chairs and dark wood finish throughout resemble a fancy speakeasy from prohibition. On the back wall, where normally shelves of bottles would be sitting, rows of squat glass cylinders of mysterious liquids line the wall -  each with a tube leading back to an ornate steel and brass box in the center.

The bartender appears to be a very thin but dapper-looking middle-aged man, dressed in 1920’s appropriate clothing, and using an equally dapper full-body exoskeleton for support. The frame he resides in matches the decor, with gleaming wood finish over the advanced composite frame, and brass accents.

He finishes up the last swipe of wiping down the counter and greets them. “Welcome to the Iron law! First time here?”

Fiona responds, “Oh, I’ve been here a handful of times - it’s her first time though.”

“Strange, I don’t remember seeing you here before - I would most certainly remember a unique beauty like yourself showing up in my humble basement.”

Fiona startles slightly, remembering just how different she looks now. “Oh sorry, I just became an Adapt recently. Last time I ordered up ‘anticipation of a radical change’.”

“Radical change indeed…Fiona, right?”

“Indeed.”

“Well Fiona, welcome back! And your companion?”

“Katie, it’s nice to meet you.“

“The pleasure is all mine. Please, take a seat - you’re my first customers today.

The pair sit at the overstuffed barstools, and Katie glances around at the unusual setup.

“So, have you heard of how we operate here?”

Katie replies, “I have, sorta. There’s no menu, I think? The orders are based on how we’re feeling, right?”

“Correct, however it’s a little more nuanced. When you discuss your current situation, a suite of sensors in the bar measures your unconscious emotional responses along with any chemical signals your body may be producing. I interface with that machine behind me to mix up a drink based on your emotional profile. The coctails are tailored to enhance positive emotions, and help reduce the negative ones, with a flavor profile that you are most likely to enjoy.”

“That’s really neat. I’ve got one hell of a day to unwind from though, so if that machine starts glowing or smoking I’ll be the first one running out of here before it explodes.”

“Probably nothing this place hasn’t seen before - lay it on me if you’re comfortable doing so.”

“So, my other, much cooler legs broke while I was at work. The company owns them, so they sent them out for repair. That afternoon though, my work got shut down and I got fired. While hauling my crap out from my desk, something started grinding in my right knee, so now I have to get my only other set of legs fixed now too.”

“That’s a lot to have to handle, and in a single day? It’s always the worst when the bad things gang up on you.” The bartender’s round-framed glasses flicker slightly as he begins to get the data from the emotional engine buried in the bar, and glances through ingredient combinations and recipes.

“At least I have Fiona here with me, we’ve been friends for a very long time. I took her out for her first time after her recovery, and here she is returning the favor.”

The box behind the bartender lights up, and a series of faint clicks and whirring sounds comes from inside. The bartender carefully grabs a glass from under the bar, and sets it in the front opening of the machine. After a few seconds, a light-pink liquid pours into the glass, and a tiny arm drops three cherries on a tiny sword into the glass.

“Ah, this should be a good one. It’s a bit of ‘A temporary setback’ mixed with a generous helping of ‘Onward to the next adventure’. And cherries, naturally.”

He sets the glass in front of Katie, and she lifts it slightly, admiring the color. “Nice! I’m gonna wait until Fi’s drink comes out to try it though.”

The bartender turns to Fiona, “So, lots of changes since our last time. I would imagine a lot less apprehension now, especially after such a great outcome.”

“You flatter me sir.” She smiles. “I’m definitely feeling better now that I’m fully recovered, and I really love the result. Emotionally, I’m looking forward to a big event I have planned but am slightly nervous about it. I’m also feeling absolutely devastated by what happened to Katie, but I’m working my contacts to try to find something for her.”

“That’s an interesting combination of positives and negatives - I think I have something in the archives for just this occasion.”

The machine kicks in once again, and he places a much taller fluted glass into the output.

Within half a minute, a layered drink emerges, a yellow-ish top half floating over dark green. “This one is one of the more unusual recipes, it’s a sweet and citrusy top, ‘The joy of accomplishment’, floated over a more bitter herbal blend of ‘Secondhand tragedy’. The result should be interesting, if a little challenging, and the taste should shift as the layers mix.”

Fiona takes the drink and lifts it up, tilting her head to the side to waft it toward one of her cybernetic antennae. “It smells wonderful! Thank you.” She turns to Katie. “Not exactly the best  occasion for a toast, however I hope that fortune and luck find you soon.”

“Thanks Fi, I’m glad you’re here. Something good will come along soon - I always manage to land on my feet.”

The night goes on, with a few more drinks and good conversation. As the bar starts to fill up and the evening begins, Katie and Fiona make their separate ways home.

Katie wakes to the first completely unscheduled day in a very long time. She looks over her finances and figures that she has enough saved up to last at least a month or two, maybe a little more if she massively cuts back. “No more late nights at the bar for me from now on. Well, maybe if someone else pays. Also not including Fi’s big gala thing…”

She spends the morning updating her resume, and looking for basically anything. The outlook isn’t great so far, and she’s careful to check the reviews of any potential companies for any sign of intolerance toward Adapts.

After giving up on the job search, she flops onto the couch and idly browses the news on her phone.

Just as she’s beginning to get bored, a knock on the door startles her, and she quickly double checks that she’s decent to be seen by some stranger as she walks over to the door.

A man from a delivery company is standing in the doorway, looking somewhat confused.

Beyond the driver, Katie sees a box truck with a huge wooden crate on a pallet, sitting on the lift gate. “I think I might be at the wrong address - I have a huge box to drop off, and the address matches here. Normally we only drop freight off at businesses. Are you running a business out of your houseboat?”

“No, I’m just as confused as you. Are there any markings on the crate? I can call up the marina if there’s a number on the invoice or something. Mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all, it’ll save me a bunch of time if you can figure out where it’s going.” They walk over to the truck, and he hits the button to lower the lift. Katie looks over the box, and it definitely looks like it’s supposed to go to her house, but she definitely didn’t order whatever this thing is.

“It’s looks like it’s for me, for sure, but I have no idea what it is. I guess I’ll crack it open and if it’s something weird, can I send it back?”

“Sure, the receipt has a number you can call if there’s a problem. Where do you want it dropped?”

“I guess on the front deck here, It’s probably too big and heavy to put anywhere else, and if it’s meant for me I can at least take whatever’s in it inside.”

“Sounds good, sign here.” He holds out a tablet, which Katie signs with a squiggle somewhat resembling her name.

After a few iffy moments with a pallet jack, and some repositioning of the gangplank that leads to her front door, the mysterious box sits on the front porch of Katie’s houseboat. She heads back inside to grab tools, and returns with a hammer and pry-bar in hand.

“Now what the hell are you? Did I order a chair or something and forget about it?” She looks around the crate, and notices something sticking out of the gap between the side panels and top. She pulls on it, and a plastic envelope slides out. She turns it over, and sees her name written in large block letters on the front.

“Ok, maybe I did order something… This is really weird.”

She rips open the envelope, and pulls out a typed-out note. It reads:

Katie,

I know getting some weird box seems a little strange, but you’ll like this. Me and the guys got together right after the big announcement at work - right after you hauled ass out of there.

It seems that when we got shut down, the higher-ups did it so suddenly that they didn’t really account for most of the equipment in the place, especially your gear. It sounds like they aren’t continuing with the Adapts program anyway, and are going to try to use drones instead. Good luck with that.

Anyway, before your legs broke down the replacements were already in transit - our maintenance guys were really good at keeping up on that stuff. The new ones happened to show up at the end of our last day, which was perfect timing for us to print up a new slip, dip into one of our shush funds to cover the shipping, and redirect it over to your place before they kicked us out and locked the doors.

We all took a piece of that place with us on the way out, and I thought it wasn’t fair that you got screwed and didn’t have a chance to grab something on the way out. I suppose this is better than a couple photos and some soggy clothes.

Sincerely,

Hashim

Katie reads over the letter one more time, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. After a moment’s thought, she begins tearing into the box, wrenching the braces off and popping the top panel free.

Inside, a shiny and new set of cybernetic tentacle-legs is coiled up into a careful heap, with blocks of foam stuck between everything. They look similar to the previous ones, except even more streamlined and high-tech looking. The nearly transparent outer cover hints at the cords of powerful synthetic muscles buried underneath, and the prosthetic connector interface looks both more robust and more streamlined.

“Oh wow, this is crazy! I’m gonna have to send a picture to Fiona once I get hooked back up.”

She pulls out the foam blocks and assorted packing material, and rips apart the sides of the crate to give her a clear path to try and haul it to the back of the houseboat.

She grabs onto a stable spot on the hip interface. “Looks like you’re going for a swim tonight with me. Oof, you’re heavy!“ She tries to lift the whole thing at once, which degenerates immediately to a half-lifting, half-dragging struggle as she rounds the corner to the back deck.

“Whew, that sucked. I forgot how heavy these things are without a cart and a whole crew. I think this new one’s even heavier still.”

She looks it over one more time, and checks the battery charge. “Sweet, full charge too. Let’s take you for a test drive.”

She runs inside to change, quickly throwing on her swimsuit from her box of leftover work stuff. She walks back outside, and lies down in the lounge chair on the back deck. She pops the releases on her legs and sets them off to the side. She hand-walks over to the mass of tentacles and cyber-interface, and maneuvers her lower body down into the socket.

It seems to sense her presence as her hips make contact, and the connectors immediately lock on.

“Oh, that’s new - it hooks up automatically?” The feeling of the neural connection kicks in, and Katie is flooded with a familiar but much more intense sensation as her brain adjusts to the new input.

“Wow, the sense of touch on this is way better, sweet!” She experimentally tries to move one of the limbs. “Good dexterity too, I think it might be a little more flexible. Maybe a little stronger as well.”

Laying on her back, next to the edge of the water, she rolls sideways into the harbor. She quickly gets back into the routine of treading water with the new legs, and decides to go for  a quick trial swim. Although the pump-jet backpack didn’t make it into the crate from work, she still is able to move through the water by kicking with all eight limbs in practiced coordination.

She heads back after a short circle in the water, and realizes that climbing back out is likely to be much more challenging than falling in. She decides to try to use the tentacles to help pull herself up, hoping they’re stronger than the last set. Otherwise, it could get dicey.

She wraps two of her legs around the rungs, and pulls up with all her upper body strength. In doing so, she nearly launches herself out of the water, and flops onto the deck in a tangle of limbs, herself, the deck chair, and her disconnected other set of legs.

“Holy shit! Way stronger than the last ones!” She manages to untangle herself from the ladder, the chair, and herself, and lays on the deck to think over her next move.

“I wonder…” Katie rolls onto her side with the assistance of her new legs, and positions herself to try something her previous limbs lacked the strength to do. She carefully pulls the tentacles down and inward, and using a hand on the wall to steady herself, manages to slowly lift herself up to an approximation of a standing position.

“Wow, this is crazy. Now, I just gotta figure out how to walk…” At first, she tries individually moving each tentacle forward, and nearly loses her balance entirely after stepping on leg #4 with leg #6.

After a few unsteady steps she figures out a half-stepping, half-rolling walk that seems to do the job, and soon she’s doing laps around her apartment - only a few steps each way though, the houseboat is tiny.

On her way around the house, she stops at a mirror and examines herself. Standing there, she sees herself in the way she wanted to be, not just for a short time while working at a now nonexistent job.

She smiles as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“I gotta send a photo to Fiona. She’s gonna freak out.”

 “Oh shit, I better call the tailor! They’re gonna need to do some serious alterations on my dress!”