Peter’s hands clutch the end of the bed. He gripps them tightly. He thinks about the boys and girls he saw on his way. Alfred’s words echo in his mind “This is our future.”
It couldn’t be. Alfred Burton is a generous man. He is his guardian, his saviour and his friend. Alfred gave him a better life. “But why?” he whispers to himself.
“Don’t worry we will do our best to make it as painless as possible. You will be back with Mister Burton in no time,” Doctor Byron holds a cotton shirt and a pair of full length trousers. “Now you will wear these at all times. My assistant will stay in this room with you and is here to help you. If you’d excuse me, Mister Burton is waiting for me.” He leaves the room closing the door behind him with a “click.”
Peter looks around the room with white washed walls and no windows. “I need to speak to my guardian,” he says to the assistant who is standing by the door.
“I’m sorry but I can’t let you out of this room without the doctor’s permission. The door is locked from the outside,” he says.
“But I don’t need a permanent fixture. My legs are completely fine!”
“Your guardian made the choice. I am merely following the instructions given to me. It would be best if you changed into those.”
Peter clenches his hands into fists. He struggles with himself, fighting the tears and the lump in his throat. He wouldn’t cry.
Seven weeks later, on 19 May 1873, Alfred receives a letter from Doctor Byron which he reads in his bedroom. Opal is sitting on his lap as he reads:
To Mister Alfred Burton, After testing the permanent prosthetic on Peter Chambers, we have created an improved version of the same. The permanent aluminium leg is ready for you. The operation will take place on 9 June 1873 at noon in The Royal Society of Bio-Mechanical Augmentation. Please be present on the day at eight in the morning. Sincerely, Doctor Stephen Byron (M.D.)
Alfred picks up a lemon and lime sweet then puts it into his mouth and it melts away.