Down by the docks where warehouses were lined up numerically there walked an average looking man with a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Tweed was the jacket of choice, the faded color of the garment matching the wrinkled khakis he wore for pants and the scuffed brown leather of his shoes. From his side hung a small bag laden with books and a computer that he was never without, it bounced with each step.
Warehouse Seventeen was where he stopped, standing right in front of a large metal door with a single lock to hold it shut. He keyed the lock and pushed the door open, reaching out instinctively to the row of switches to his right. One by one they flicked up and bright lights burst to life overhead to illuminate the wide space rented out for his private studies. Tables laden with machinery were littered across the warehouse, each kept isolated to a certain degree from the others to prevent any interference in whatever experimental procedures he might have been working on.
To his left stood a desk with a small and uncomfortable looking chair; Leonel took a seat at this chair and set his bag on the table to unpack the laptop stuffed within. As the screen was lifted and the power was pressed he leaned down to dug open a drawer in the desk so he could rummage through junk until withdrawing a small bottle of orange plastic. He twisted the lid off and flicked a few capsules into his waiting palm before tossing his head back with the hand in tow to let the pills slide down his throat.
He capped the bottle and tossed it back into the drawer before rubbing his eyes and sitting up to view the computer screen as it came to life. After typing in his password Leonel rose, finding a small wire connector that he plugged into the USB port of his computer before leaving it all behind as it began to sync with the other systems in his warehouse. He turned and rounded the desk to take a leisurely stroll through the cavernous room with his hands behind his back as one by one, dozens of computers lit up around him.
"Run systems check," he called out loud. "Checking," the voice that replied was female and clearly artificial. Each screen lit up blue then faded into black with a simple white progress bar spread across the screen that slowly filled. "Twenty-five percent complete," the voice said.
"Fifty'seventy-five percent complete. One hundred percent complete. All systems operational."
"Bring up project two-seven-A."
Overhead a small and rather primitive looking projector lowered to shoot a digital image that hovered in the air before Leonel, displaying what appeared to be a mechanical arm quite similar to a human's. "Show test results," the image was downsized and diverted upward and to the left, replaced with a large series of graphs.
"Test subject's DNA appears to have bound to the artificial nerves in the arm," the voice explained.
"Good. Run the test one more time, just to be sure."
"Running tests," the image flickered away and Leonel turned to approach a table where the metal arm sat in a small glass box, held up by two metal prongs while a small needle injected the artificial veins with a blood sample. "Have there been any side effects so far?"
"No side effects since design alterations. The subject seems to be accepting the arm now. Anesthesia is recommended for the patient, attachment process will be painful."
"Noted. Bring up project two-eight-A," he turned again to face the empty space as it lit up once more with an image. This time it was by all appearances a simple human arm.
"The synthetic skin remains unchanged. It has undergone extreme temperature tests and suffered several attempts at physical trauma and continues to remain consistent and hold its form."
"Good. I'm going to bed. Wake me in six hours."
"Yes, doctor."
Leonel and started back toward the desk beside which stood a small door leading to a little room with a cot. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled his glasses off, folding them up as he nudged past the door to set them on a little nightstand beside his cot before he slid out of his jacket and draped it across a chair. He perched on the edge of the cot to unlace his shoes and kick them off, then rolled back and went to sleep.
—————
"Doctor," the artificial voice resonated through the warehouse, slowly causing Leonel to stir. "Doctor it is time to wake up. Test results are ready for review."
"Give me one moment Lydia," Leonel said as he rolled to sit up and rubbed at his eyes. He tugged his shoes on and picked up his glasses the slip them back over the bridge of his nose on his way back out into the lab built into his warehouse, covering his mouth to stifle a loud yawn.
"Do we have any coffee?" he complained as he tried to smooth the wrinkles from his shirt.
"Yes, doctor. Black?"
"You know me so well," he shuffled across the warehouse to what appeared to be a small kitchen space where a large metal container opened up to produce a mug of freshly prepared coffee. He plucked it up and had a taste before turning to carry the mug toward the bulk of the lab again. "Show me the results, Lydia."
"Identical to previous tests. I took the liberty of running a third one as an extra precaution and made a small adjustment to the layering of the artificial veins, it appears the primary concern was the valves that prevented backflow. They were too thin and not strong enough to hold, but this has been corrected. The skin remains unchanged and is ready for use."
"Think we can give the old man his arm now?" Leonel asked as he sipped at his coffee and studied the mechanical construct on the table in front of him.
"The procedure will still be dangerous. The subject is very weak in his current state. I suggest proceeding with caution."
"He's a tough old man," Leonel replied. "Box it up for him, Lydia. The skin, too."
"Would you like me to put a bow around it, doctor?"
"Why would you do that?"
"It was a joke, doctor."
Shaking his head, Leonel turned and went back to the little room with the cot to shrug into his jacket before he stepped out to shut down the laptop on his desk. He set the now empty mug of coffee aside to pack the computer up before lazily raking his fingers through his wild hair in hopes of taming it while mechanical limbs moved across the lab space to box up the arm and synthetic skin in a protective metal casing.
"It is ready, doctor."
"Thank you, Lydia. Take the rest of the day off."
Warehouse Seventeen was where he stopped, standing right in front of a large metal door with a single lock to hold it shut. He keyed the lock and pushed the door open, reaching out instinctively to the row of switches to his right. One by one they flicked up and bright lights burst to life overhead to illuminate the wide space rented out for his private studies. Tables laden with machinery were littered across the warehouse, each kept isolated to a certain degree from the others to prevent any interference in whatever experimental procedures he might have been working on.
To his left stood a desk with a small and uncomfortable looking chair; Leonel took a seat at this chair and set his bag on the table to unpack the laptop stuffed within. As the screen was lifted and the power was pressed he leaned down to dug open a drawer in the desk so he could rummage through junk until withdrawing a small bottle of orange plastic. He twisted the lid off and flicked a few capsules into his waiting palm before tossing his head back with the hand in tow to let the pills slide down his throat.
He capped the bottle and tossed it back into the drawer before rubbing his eyes and sitting up to view the computer screen as it came to life. After typing in his password Leonel rose, finding a small wire connector that he plugged into the USB port of his computer before leaving it all behind as it began to sync with the other systems in his warehouse. He turned and rounded the desk to take a leisurely stroll through the cavernous room with his hands behind his back as one by one, dozens of computers lit up around him.
"Run systems check," he called out loud. "Checking," the voice that replied was female and clearly artificial. Each screen lit up blue then faded into black with a simple white progress bar spread across the screen that slowly filled. "Twenty-five percent complete," the voice said.
"Fifty'seventy-five percent complete. One hundred percent complete. All systems operational."
"Bring up project two-seven-A."
Overhead a small and rather primitive looking projector lowered to shoot a digital image that hovered in the air before Leonel, displaying what appeared to be a mechanical arm quite similar to a human's. "Show test results," the image was downsized and diverted upward and to the left, replaced with a large series of graphs.
"Test subject's DNA appears to have bound to the artificial nerves in the arm," the voice explained.
"Good. Run the test one more time, just to be sure."
"Running tests," the image flickered away and Leonel turned to approach a table where the metal arm sat in a small glass box, held up by two metal prongs while a small needle injected the artificial veins with a blood sample. "Have there been any side effects so far?"
"No side effects since design alterations. The subject seems to be accepting the arm now. Anesthesia is recommended for the patient, attachment process will be painful."
"Noted. Bring up project two-eight-A," he turned again to face the empty space as it lit up once more with an image. This time it was by all appearances a simple human arm.
"The synthetic skin remains unchanged. It has undergone extreme temperature tests and suffered several attempts at physical trauma and continues to remain consistent and hold its form."
"Good. I'm going to bed. Wake me in six hours."
"Yes, doctor."
Leonel and started back toward the desk beside which stood a small door leading to a little room with a cot. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled his glasses off, folding them up as he nudged past the door to set them on a little nightstand beside his cot before he slid out of his jacket and draped it across a chair. He perched on the edge of the cot to unlace his shoes and kick them off, then rolled back and went to sleep.
—————
"Doctor," the artificial voice resonated through the warehouse, slowly causing Leonel to stir. "Doctor it is time to wake up. Test results are ready for review."
"Give me one moment Lydia," Leonel said as he rolled to sit up and rubbed at his eyes. He tugged his shoes on and picked up his glasses the slip them back over the bridge of his nose on his way back out into the lab built into his warehouse, covering his mouth to stifle a loud yawn.
"Do we have any coffee?" he complained as he tried to smooth the wrinkles from his shirt.
"Yes, doctor. Black?"
"You know me so well," he shuffled across the warehouse to what appeared to be a small kitchen space where a large metal container opened up to produce a mug of freshly prepared coffee. He plucked it up and had a taste before turning to carry the mug toward the bulk of the lab again. "Show me the results, Lydia."
"Identical to previous tests. I took the liberty of running a third one as an extra precaution and made a small adjustment to the layering of the artificial veins, it appears the primary concern was the valves that prevented backflow. They were too thin and not strong enough to hold, but this has been corrected. The skin remains unchanged and is ready for use."
"Think we can give the old man his arm now?" Leonel asked as he sipped at his coffee and studied the mechanical construct on the table in front of him.
"The procedure will still be dangerous. The subject is very weak in his current state. I suggest proceeding with caution."
"He's a tough old man," Leonel replied. "Box it up for him, Lydia. The skin, too."
"Would you like me to put a bow around it, doctor?"
"Why would you do that?"
"It was a joke, doctor."
Shaking his head, Leonel turned and went back to the little room with the cot to shrug into his jacket before he stepped out to shut down the laptop on his desk. He set the now empty mug of coffee aside to pack the computer up before lazily raking his fingers through his wild hair in hopes of taming it while mechanical limbs moved across the lab space to box up the arm and synthetic skin in a protective metal casing.
"It is ready, doctor."
"Thank you, Lydia. Take the rest of the day off."