M7 lay on the cushion, with its right hind leg curled up underneath its body, no different from before.
"It really moved just now," Fritz said eagerly, "I saw it with my own eyes, it bent several times, even kicked once."
Yang Ping didn't probe further; he squatted down in front of M7, meeting its gaze.
"M7," he called gently, as if speaking to a child, "Could you move again, please?"
M7 looked at him, its brown eyes reflecting his face.
Then its right hind leg moved.
First the toes, spreading out, curling in, then spreading out again. Then the ankle joint, dorsiflexion, plantar flexion. Finally, the knee joint drawing a slow and deliberate arc between flexion and extension.
