Free Abominations by P. S. Power Page B

she could undress unobserved while still having someone there in case she needed help, she'd been informed. Probably just normal procedure, Gwen figured, from the matter of fact, almost rote, way the nurse spoke about it.
      The shower gave her some problems at first, until she discovered that she could pull her hand straight out from between the plates to set the temperature where she wanted. There was six inches between the copper pieces and it worked like some kind of sensor. Easy enough once she got the hang of it. After that the whole thing went normally enough. She could even get her back, thanks to a handy stick the nurse provided with a sponge on it.
      The water, instead of being spread out through a normal shower head, just spilled from the spigot, like it would from an old fashioned kitchen sink or a garden hose, pounding her with a steady stream the whole time. Great water pressure but not very comfortable.
      Looking down she saw that the stab wound had turned into a completely closed mass of scar tissue already, silvery and pink, smaller than she would have thought. They hadn't let her look at the wound before, seeming to think the idea would disturb her too much. She'd tried to assure them that seeing a knife sticking out of her had been the worst of it, but they didn't seem to believe her for some reason.
      The breasts looked nice, she realized, the wound having missed the left breast nearly completely, being low and to the center, just barely catching the inside edge of it. Both breasts had a nice symmetry, which she hadn't had before, and hit a nice middle size, probably a C-cup. Her old breasts had been smaller, much so, cone shaped and asymmetrical, the right one, like her face, sticking out at an odd angle, the left being tinier than the right and a bit lumpy. These were still perky too, since Katherine had been a lot younger than she was, no sagging had taken place yet at all, not that she could tell. Ah, she reflected with a small smile, the difference between twenty-two and thirty-four.
      No razors had been given to her to shave her legs or under her arms. The stubble showed her that Katherine Vernor had shaved recently, so people did that here. The hospital apparently didn't think it worth bothering with, so it probably wasn't of huge social importance. Not enough to trump practicality in a medical situation at least. She'd shaved her legs and under her arms before, but irregularly, since no one would see them. It had let her feel more human, more normal, so she'd done it anyway.
      When she finished the nurse handed her a towel, not looking at her, so she could dry off in the shower area. She managed to get dressed without too much pain, the clothing that had been selected for her by the nurse seemed to be a long skirt and jacket, both in a light green, a baffling array of under things and a white blouse. The nurse had to help her into the clothes, and she wondered how she'd get them off by herself.

      Especially if she ended up sleeping under a bridge or something, she mused, trying not to let the idea get her down. Her life before had been isolated from others, and hard at times. About once a year, sometimes more, someone, usually a group of teenage boys or drunk men, would think it great fun to attack her because of her looks. If she went out too often, people, again, almost always young men, but sometimes women, would yell things at her from passing cars.
      But she'd always had a home.
      Here she didn't even have any employable skills, not that she knew of at least. She'd have to scramble to find something.
      Then it hit her... she could really do it.
      Here, she looked normal... maybe even pretty, depending on the standards of beauty. She could clean houses or something, even if she still had to learn how basic equipment worked. There was always work for normal people if you weren't too picky about what