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“What is Unit Red?”
    The chief surgeon smiled. “I think I’ll let Angel handle that one – when you’re ready. My job is just to make you better.”
    Ben needed several days to recover after every operation. To keep track of them all, he felt as if he should chalk them up on his bedroom wall in the Unit Red building, like a
prisoner marking each day in captivity.
    His eyes had been fixed. Both irises had been fitted with a tiny camera and an electrode had been attached to the retina of each eye. The signal from the cameras was picked up by the electrodes
and fed directly into his optic nerve. The sensory information was handled partly by his brain and partly by an implant, letting him see clearly. More than clearly. He had the best eyesight in the
world. And it wasn’t just visible light. The cameras worked over a wide wavelength range. He had infrared vision so he could see in the dark and terahertz vision that allowed him to look
straight through people’s clothes. Except that he hadn’t mastered the full scope of his new eyes yet. Until he learned how to cope, he had to put up with the confusing crossover of
different wavelengths. He had to put up with the bizarre sensation that warm-blooded beings looked like radioactive aliens. And sometimes they appeared naked.
    Even though he now had amazing high-tech eyes, no one would notice unless they came quite close.
    The next operation was a big one. It was the first step to giving him a new arm and it meant general anaesthetic and a long recovery. Ben was scared and pleased at the same time. He was fed up
with looking odd and ugly, like a teapot without its spout. He was fed up with being unbalanced. Fed up with fighting his instincts to reach out with an arm that was no longer there. Fed up with
his slow and hopeless left arm. He longed for a time when eating, showering, dressing and undressing didn’t take an age. He wanted something to fill his shirtsleeve. He hated the way that
clothes simply hung from his right shoulder and flapped around uselessly, like a flag waving to show everyone his impairment. When the frustrations got to him, he’d go to the gym and take it
out on a punchbag, but that didn’t really work. He could hit it only with this ineffectual left arm.
    One of the doctors peered closely at Ben’s stumpy shoulder. “You’ve healed nicely – to the point where we can start working on it. We’re going to implant titanium
rods into your remaining bones.” She demonstrated angles and directions with her pen. “They’ll poke through your skin like bolts and we’ll fix your new arm onto them. I know
it sounds horrible, but it’s simple. Not risky. And, when the arm’s on, you won’t see the fitting.”
    Ben turned towards Angel, who stood to one side. “You said the arm’s really clever and complicated.”
    “It is. Fantastic. If you call it advanced technology, you’re not doing it justice. It’s super-advanced. You’re the first person in the world to get this version.
You’ll love it. You’ll be able to do incredible things.”
    The doctor explained, “The mechanism and electronics are tomorrow’s state of the art, but the fitting’s just nuts and bolts basically. That’s what I meant by calling it
simple.” She spoke clearly to make sure that Ben could hear. “Where you once had flesh, bone, blood and nerves, you’ll have motors, carbon-fibre rods, wires and fancy electronics.
But it’ll look realistic when we’ve finished.”
    “Muscles are good,” Angel said, “but what you’re going to have will be better. Stronger.”
    Ben gulped. It sounded like something a superhero in a comic would have. But he would not believe in the transformation until it happened. He also wondered what was in it for Unit Red. Why was
the mysterious organization helping him?
    He asked, “How will I move this arm?”
    Angel pointed towards his head. “With thoughts. I told you it was advanced.”
    “By the way,” the