Mustering as much patience as I could, I slowly exhaled. This was not something I could rush. I had been preparing for so many months that being too hasty now would only ruin the whole thing. As I inhaled, I reopened my eyes and studied the workbench in front of me. For the casual observer, a wrist restraint on rails was perhaps the most easily ignored part of the contraption before me. The second part of it was a mechanical hand made of so many metal pieces that, unless you were the designer and builder, it would have been impossible to try to accurately determine which part interacted with any other. Thankfully, I had been a lot more careful than just trying to slap something like this together. 

I looked away from the workbench towards the walls and ceiling surrounding me. Dozens upon dozens of prototyping parts lined the little cubbies stretching from desk height to the ceiling. It might have been a wonder if I didn’t know how each one worked, why I changed it, or how it had failed to meet my standards. The smallest section was dedicated to the thumb mechanism. With only one joint pointing out at almost ninety degrees from the rest of the hand it was far simpler than the fingers or the palm to construct. Still, it wasn’t as though all I had done was manufacture metal parts into something resembling a macabre clock. I sighed deeply at this thought. 

My eyes moved slowly to my left hand. It still made me angry and upset. The betrayal of this one limb. I had once had two working hands to use in conjunction with my mind. I knew that being in a wheelchair might feel like a betrayal to some people but having never known what it was like to walk, I couldn’t say that I missed it. Sometimes I longed for the use of my legs, but it was always fleeting. I got around well enough without them. How can one miss something that one has never had? How could I desire that which I had never experienced? My hand though, that was a betrayal. The truest betrayal I had ever known because it had once worked so well and now it just took up space and bodily resources.

I could feel the anger and upset rising from my stomach and into my chest. I shook my head, took a deep breath, and steadied myself again. No. I couldn’t get upset at my hand. Not now. There was too much to be done. I checked the alignment of all of the necessary parts and machines. This was not going to be a nice process. I knew that I wanted painkillers for this, but if I took them, I could never guarantee that my mind would be in the state I needed it in. Anything to numb the pain would have been welcome, but the pain of failure I would have to have endured for eternity. Taking my time, I wrapped a rubber hose around my forearm, about three inches from my wrist. I pulled it tight with my good hand and my teeth, before maneuvering it into a tightly held knot. This was it, no going back. 

I placed my arm into the holder, ensuring the wrist fit properly and snuggly into its section. I checked the alignment again for what felt like the hundredth time. It was still perfect. I took two slow deep breaths, fully inhaling and exhaling. Feeling my heart thumping loudly in my chest and hearing the rush of blood in my eardrums, I knew I was scared but I also knew that I was ready for this. This would hurt immensely. I pushed a small release button and, in an instant, I could feel the white hot burn of excruciating pain at my wrist. My hand was now separated from my arm and the holder it was in slowly slid away from its original placement. 

I was staring at my hand though, my mind not working. I tried to make it move and function, but I shook this off quickly. I had no time to stare, as grotesque as it was to have cut off my own hand. I hoped it was as clean as I had projected and that the mechanical hand of brass would attach nicely to the stump. I levered my arm to the correct angle in the holder and slid the brass cup onto the bleeding stump. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed out. The pain was intolerable as the cold brass pushed against the raw flesh. I had tried to warm up the brass in advance, but I had no way of knowing what it really needed to feel like. It was both far too cold and far too hot. My wrist and the brass cup were being pressed together tightly to ensure that there was no separation between them. I tried desperately to steady my breathing and slow down my heart. Taking even a few seconds felt like an eternity, but I needed to be able to think. I reopened my eyes slowly and the mechanism in front of me came into focus. I was still on the verge of panic, but there was nothing I could do to assuage my fears. 

The pain was impossible to describe to anyone that has never felt an amputation. I do not wish that on anyone, no matter who they are. I knew the hand itself would work fine and I knew that my arm was still in very good condition, but what I needed to do now was make the two of them work together. This was where no one else had been willing to help. They had all said I was crazy for even considering this. Wizards, mages, warlocks, and sorcerers, they had no way to guarantee any of their work, except perhaps the warlock. But I was never going to give my soul to a demon just for a hand. I did the next best thing. I learned magic with tools. 

This was an ancient magic, certainly, but so much was still never recorded or known by the wider public. It was all still experimental, but I had to try it. No amount of money had convinced anyone else to perform the magical side of this task. I knew I could infuse the hand with magic and cause it to be animated, I could heal my wrist, even healing my wrist in a sealed form to the brass, and I could make it all work according to my will. If I understood the underlying magic properly and I implemented it correctly, this should work. It would always pull some part of my life essence to make it work and sustain the magic, but losing a few years of life to be able to live life to the fullest? An easy trade. I called upon the magic that I had formed into the brass hand and I spoke my commands into it. 

“Quod autem vivit vivit sum,” I ordered. The markings in the brass began to glow and I hoped sincerely that I had done everything correctly. The pain was severe at this point and I decided to just push forward until I was done or I was dead. I poured a thick slurry of oil and diamond dust onto the seam between the brass cup and my bloody wrist stump. The sting was unlike anything I had expected. It was like being stabbed millions of times over with every particle of the dust. 

“Ut sint unum,” I forced out from clenched teeth, my jaw clenched tightly. I willed the diamond dust to do that which it was bid and heal the brass and flesh together. This next part would be the longest and hardest part, but it was also completely necessary. I had cut no corners in this process, but I wanted to do nothing I did not absolutely have to do. Sitting absolutely still, I retraced the glyph I had placed on the top of the brass cover. I used another thick slurry of oil and diamond dust to trace it out and lit the incense on the desk surrounding the hand. 

“Semper tutum. Semper sanus,” I ordained of the glyph now glowing so brightly I had to squeeze my eyes shut tightly. I could feel my life force being pulled into this spell. This was perhaps the easiest of the three magics I had used to facilitate this working, but it was still no trivial matter. I tried to clear my mind as best I could and fall into a meditative trance. This would take an hour of work, but what was an hour against the months I had spent preparing it all or the years I might enjoy with two working hands again. Soon enough, the draining of my life force subsided to the tiniest of trickles and I opened my eyes. 

The time piece I had set up prior to this whole procedure confirmed that just over an hour had passed. I looked down at the restraints, hopeful, but afraid. What if I had failed? I was too nervous to try and move my hand. I reached over with my good hand and released the locking bolts, allowing the springs to release the clamps. With care, I levered my arm off of the desk and examined the whole hand, wrist, and system. It looked correct and even the pain had subsided substantially. I felt dehydrated and starved, but that was expected. I had food and drink readied in case I had lived through this. I steeled myself for the final task. It was time that the moment of truth be revealed for all of my work. I stared, unblinkingly, at my hand. 

I closed my fist.