It was getting easier, therapy. It had been frustrating in the beginning, there was no doubt about that. They said it was based on drift technology, made it easier for someone to use their new limb, but they really couldn't call it that—drift technology—because it didn't feel like drifting aside from the brief mental lapse it gave you during the initial hook up. This drift was empty, void of anything good and solid like what was brought to the table with your partner and your jaeger. And it was permanent—until they deactivated it completely—so you could feel everything; even when they tweaked your new arm or leg.
Yancy had been fitted with the first models and, if anything, he could say they were making process with the prosthetics. By now they were up to the sixth generation (it had been quick in the beginning if only because there was so much lacking and thanks to rapid feedback) and he was impressed by how much sensation they could receive now. Granted, it wasn't anything near 50% of what you could naturally feel but these new limbs could tell warm from cold and were a hell of a lot more pressure sensitive.
When they were fitted right.
Today, Yacy was popping in on the hospital for a checkup, not odd with new models of prosthetics, but annoying as hell nonetheless. And he wasn't late for his appointment, so he took the devour though recovery to say hi to some of the nurses how helped him when he first started going here. To his surprise, they weren't around. After a few minutes of waiting, Yancy started to leave, thinking they were all busy with one thing or another. He thought maybe he'd catch them on the way out, only to pause when he heard some shuffling.
no subject
It was getting easier, therapy. It had been frustrating in the beginning, there was no doubt about that. They said it was based on drift technology, made it easier for someone to use their new limb, but they really couldn't call it that—drift technology—because it didn't feel like drifting aside from the brief mental lapse it gave you during the initial hook up. This drift was empty, void of anything good and solid like what was brought to the table with your partner and your jaeger. And it was permanent—until they deactivated it completely—so you could feel everything; even when they tweaked your new arm or leg.
Yancy had been fitted with the first models and, if anything, he could say they were making process with the prosthetics. By now they were up to the sixth generation (it had been quick in the beginning if only because there was so much lacking and thanks to rapid feedback) and he was impressed by how much sensation they could receive now. Granted, it wasn't anything near 50% of what you could naturally feel but these new limbs could tell warm from cold and were a hell of a lot more pressure sensitive.
When they were fitted right.
Today, Yacy was popping in on the hospital for a checkup, not odd with new models of prosthetics, but annoying as hell nonetheless. And he wasn't late for his appointment, so he took the devour though recovery to say hi to some of the nurses how helped him when he first started going here. To his surprise, they weren't around. After a few minutes of waiting, Yancy started to leave, thinking they were all busy with one thing or another. He thought maybe he'd catch them on the way out, only to pause when he heard some shuffling.