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After the plasma cannon test, Ryan's schedule eased.
Most days he reviewed the drift data, checked on the cannon's disassembly analysis, and ran remote troubleshooting for Kyle's firefighting mech team. The structural failure flagged during the mobility test had been confirmed as load-induced deformation. The team was substituting a higher-grade alloy for the failed component and running validation tests.
The rest of his time went into the damper system research. The deeper he studied it, the more there was to find.
Then Mason called.
"The new arm is ready. Can you come review?"
Ryan got in the SUV and rode to the Prism Sciences workshop. The hand-painted sign on the metal gate was still there: *PRISM NEURAL PROSTHETICS RESEARCH CENTER.* Still looked like a converted textile workshop. Because it was.
Mason met him at the door, visibly more confident than the last time Ryan had visited.
"Full structural redesign. All parts 3D-printed, assembly is in progress right now."
Inside, the team was gathered around the central workbench. They looked at Ryan with expressions that mixed sheepishness and determination. He'd sent them to study Whitfield's technical specifications, and they'd clearly done their homework. The panic from two weeks ago was gone, replaced by something that looked like hunger.
They'd figured out that Whitfield's prosthetic required surgery and theirs didn't. They'd figured out that the competitor's product couldn't touch their price point. They'd figured out that the trolls online were being paid to manufacture fear. And now they wanted payback.
The new prosthetic sat on the bench, mid-assembly. Viv was installing the last of the fiber-optic control cables. The structural design was a complete rebuild: titanium alloy frame, precision-printed joints, a skeletal aesthetic that looked like it had walked out of a cyberpunk movie set.
"Key components are all titanium-printed," Mason explained. "Without the battery, total weight is about four pounds. Given the complexity of the internal structure, that's extremely light."
Viv tightened the last screw and sealed the housing.
"Ready for testing," she said.
One of the technicians plugged in an external power supply and ran a diagnostic on the internal systems. While that was running, Mason continued.
"Response times are dramatically faster. We've hit near-biological reaction speed across all joints. And every finger operates independently now. Ten separate motor channels."
The diagnostic cleared. The team activated the prosthetic from the computer, bypassing the neural link for this test and sending motor commands directly to confirm the hardware was functional.
The fingers moved.
Not like a machine trying to simulate a hand. Like a hand. Ten digits flexing in sequence, then in waves, then in independent patterns. The wrist rotated smoothly through its full range, transitioned into flexion and extension, and returned to neutral. The elbow joint articulated without the hitch-and-recovery pattern that had characterized the first prototype.
Watching it move, you'd never guess it was an artificial limb. It looked like what it was supposed to look like: a fully functional human arm, rendered in metal.
"Phenomenal progress," Ryan said, meaning it. This team had genuine engineering talent. Given the right direction, they were going to build something remarkable.
Then he noticed what was missing.
"Battery life. What's the runtime outside the lab?"
The current tests used an external power supply or a brick-sized test battery. Neither was viable for a consumer product. Nobody wanted to walk around with a brick hanging off their arm unless they were going to a fight.
Mason scratched his head. "Standard prosthetic batteries give users one to two hours of operation, about a few hundred grip cycles per charge. But our motors are higher-powered than the industry standard, and the neural control system adds its own draw. If we use a conventional battery, we're looking at under an hour."
"Put a standard battery on it. Let's see."
Someone ran to the storage room and returned with a 7.4-volt lithium pack, the kind used in most commercial prosthetics. They installed it, connected the neural control module, and started the runtime test.
The team watched the prosthetic cycle through continuous movement patterns while the battery discharged.
Under thirty minutes. That was the runtime under heavy use. Under light use, maybe an hour. Not enough.
The main drains were the motor system and the neural control hardware. The motors could be made more efficient. The neural link was already at the floor of its power consumption envelope.
Ryan frowned. "We need more battery capacity, even if it adds weight."
The plasma reactor wasn't shrinkable to prosthetic scale. The ion batteries were overkill. He'd have to settle for an optimized conventional battery, or accept a bulkier pack that made the arm less elegant but more practical.
First-generation product. Short battery life was a known weakness. They'd ship extra packs so users could swap between them.
Mason didn't have better options either. His team didn't include anyone with a battery chemistry background.
"We'll test some alternatives. Higher-capacity packs, different form factors."
Viv spoke up. She'd been quiet most of the meeting. "Ryan, when's the next live test? Are we going to film it again?"
The rest of the team looked up in unison. Clearly this was a question they'd discussed among themselves.
Ryan understood. They'd seen the coordinated trolling online. They'd read the comments calling Prism Sciences a backwater project. They'd watched Angel's launch campaign build momentum while their own product received daily digital insults. They were holding in a collective breath of resentment, and they wanted an outlet.
Two weeks ago, they'd been terrified the competition was going to crush them. Now they knew the competition was a paper tiger. And they wanted to prove it.
Ryan checked the calendar. November 15th. Chloe's birthday was coming up. She'd committed to visiting on the 20th.
"Next live test is on the 20th. Be ready."
Chloe would be here to film. The Helios camera crews would never match her work. Ryan was not bothered by the trolls calling his cinematography bad. He was, however, motivated to prove that "bad cinematography" was a stylistic choice, not a production limitation.
"Yes!" The team's enthusiasm was visible. "We'll be ready. We'll be more than ready."
Ryan looked at them, slightly confused by the intensity. This was just the next scheduled test. They were acting like it was the championship round.
But he didn't push back. Whatever was motivating them, it was producing good work. He'd take it.
November 20th.
Five days out.
The countdown began.
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