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Post by Lucian Verdus on Nov 8, 2009 14:41:41 GMT -5
The walk through the blocks to Lucian’s little makeshift laboratory was one of equal silence. Lucian was now busy outlining, in depth, what metal was to be applied where, and how much solid circuitry and ‘new-brain’ he’d need relative to what he possessed. Power sources, matrices of all sorts and kinds, servos, gears, joints, and so many other, more complex mechanical parts all came together in an orderly, logical fashion within his mind. Ordered as a math equation, and with some previous experience in the first servitor, Lucian calculated a positive outcome to be comfortably probable. Nearing the door that Lucian knew to be his dwelling, he turned again to his companion, “Please be careful when moving through my workspace, there is only so much room.”
On that note, his free arm, the smaller of the two, extended, long, thin fingers inserting themselves into the lock and moving about like someone attempting to solve a Rubix’s Cube. At last, there was a dull ‘clank’ of the lock giving way, and the door opened. One of the fingers inserted itself past the threshold to flick a switch. The lights came on with a faint buzzing, and Lucian’s room was illuminated. The bed had been converted into a sort of operating table, bits of piping used to prop it up to a respectable height. In most corners of the room there were piles or stacks of metal; some pipes leaned against the corner of the far right wall, and to the left of the doorway was a stack of various circuit-boards of all sizes. Everything was, as one would expect, perfectly organized by various categorizations, be it size, height, usefulness, complexity, et cetera. Leaning against the far wall, head bowed as though in prayer, was Lucian’s first and (currently) only servitor, the three metal arms that are usually drawn having retracted into its back.
Setting the corpse on the table, Lucian faced Alexandria. “We should begin as soon as possible. If there is anything you wish to inquire about or state, now would be the time to state it. Please wait.” He turned around and focused on the servitor a moment, its green-tinted lenses flickering on as the reanimated melding of flesh and machine whirred to life, its head raising and its three metallic arms emerging from the spots on their back, the clamp-hands spinning slowly. “Greetings.” The servitor said, upon seeing the newcomer, “I am a servitor to the Progenitor. You will know him as Lucian. I will be assisting in the pending assimilation, and I will, unless otherwise instructed, assist you in whatever you may need during your visit here.”
Lucian turned back to Alexandria, “Corpses do not have much personality to work with, and much of their brain has failed. As you can tell, there is not much to them in terms of personality or free will. Being what they are, they do not need it,” he explained, “Were I ever to receive a living subject, they would be able to retain much of themselves, although far improved and purified. I, myself, have little need for it, and I, long ago, decided to do away with it in favor of advancing the greater good.” He turned to the operating table, the servitor rolling forward on its treads and preparing to receive orders. “As I previously stated, if there is anything you wish to state or inquire, I will answer.” he turned his head to look at her, the headlights of eyes he possessed glowing brightly as he prepared to interpret whatever she may have to say.
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Post by Alexandria Lang on Nov 8, 2009 20:28:50 GMT -5
Alex hadn't been entirely certain what the cell would look like; to be honest, she had been expecting a filthy, rusted place of horrors, complete with dripping water, flickering lights and cruel, bloody instruments hanging from the ceiling. Upon her arrival, she found herself just slightly disappointed that it appeared much more ordered; a makeshift but orderly workshop, in lieu of the standard nightmarish laboratory wrested from the depths of madness.
She slid in quietly, finding a small section of wall to lean against without disturbing anything. Thus far, her first assumption about this Lucian being was proven incorrect; it was not, in fact, controlled remotely. This lead to one of two possibilities; it being a construct that was simply doing as it was programmed, or a human being that had given itself what it referred to as a 'gift.'
Before she could raise her hands to form an inquiry, the machine had activated another monstrosity. Automatically, she pressed herself back against the wall as it turned its attentions to her, but quickly relaxed as it made no motion toward her. The apprehension she felt toward Lucian and its apparent servant was likely one born more of the instinctive nature of disgust and distrust most felt when encountering something not quite human. If she truly meant to make an ally of it, she supposed that the unconscious fear would abate with time, but for the moment, she could honestly say that it frightened her.
“Corpses do not have much personality to work with, and much of their brain has failed. As you can tell, there is not much to them in terms of personality or free will. Being what they are, they do not need it. Were I ever to receive a living subject, they would be able to retain much of themselves, although far improved and purified. I, myself, have little need for it, and I, long ago, decided to do away with it in favor of advancing the greater good.”
Its final sentence was the last piece of the jigsaw she had been mulling over; her third assumption had been correct. This... thing was human, or at least, had been. Past the metal and wiring was the remains of a person who had, in either madness or clarity, had taken it upon themselves to attempt to create what they obviously saw as perfection.
Looking over at the other creature, then at the corpse upon the operating table, a single inquiry bubbled into existence, which she wasted no time in translating to sign language. "I have one question," she began. "Are you of the opinion that you are bringing these corpses back to life via this technology? Or is it simply the usage of what is left of their bodies in order to construct machines, bound not by any their own thought processes, but simply their programming?"
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Post by Lucian Verdus on Nov 10, 2009 6:27:15 GMT -5
The immediate answer to the inquiry was a prompt, loud whirring from the cylinder on Lucian’s back. Lucian was choosing the most fitting possible way to answer such a question. After a good second’s worth of evaluation, Lucian spoke, “If you define ‘life’ by possession of personality, then you would be correct in your latter assumption. However, consider: they are being given purpose again, not to mention value in a functioning society. There is no reason for the dead to rot in the ground when they could be put to work. Sentimental, primitive beliefs of respect for the dead are a hindrance to progress, not a noble respect. Consider: would not a being wish to continue serving their society after death in any way they could? Especially in what would likely be in the advancement of a newer, deathless, more perfect one.”
Lucian returned his attention to the table, “If that is all, then I must begin. You are not obliged to observe, and if you feel the need to vomit or exit the room, you are permitted to. I would also like to take this moment to note that this process, on a living being, is utterly painless. I have excessive experience in this category. Thank you.” Without a second’s hesitation, the servitor handed him a pipe, and he made a thin, fine cut down the woman’s torso, a thin line bisecting one half from the other. The pipe was then placed as much as possible into the cavity, the rest jutting outward almost humorously. Both hands, at that point, gripped the pipe, and the cylinder whirred again. After a moment or two of nothing but the whirring, it became progressively easier to notice that the pipe was slowly melting into the cavity. Already, the same process was being repeated on the legs and arms, with differing sizes of piping, all the pipes melting, even in defiance of gravity, into the incisions.
Despite the strange, and almost ritualistic defiling of this body, it was performed with utter synchronization, professionalism, and efficiency. You would think he was an oddly-clad surgeon attempting some odd new operation, with the way he worked. Adding pipes here and there, sometimes pushing in another odd object or two, and making sure both inside and outside was orderly. As another pipe was laid in the chest cavity, a layer of metal became visible over the flesh, and Lucian was well aware that it would gradually overtake it almost entirely. With the body complete, he moved to the head. The scalp was removed, and the work on the brain became utterly indescribable, all done with medical precision.
At last, the brain was finished, and the head was beginning to be overtaken by the metal, the scalp and the other incisions being knit together as the metal spread across them. Wires and tubes would be added here and there, likely placed within the pipes before use, and it was beginning to look a lot like the servitor now assisting in its creation. At last, the servitor handed Lucian a pair of green-tinted lenses, which he set upon the eyes. It did not take long for the ever-advancing metal to assimilate them, and Lucian moved onto the mouth plate. Again, the same process took place, and wires seemingly grew out of holes in the side to spread to ready-made orifices in the shoulders and back. The feet were cut off entirely, and replaced with what eventually shaped into a small platform, with small, tank-like treads on either side.
He flipped her over, and she was nearly complete as far as the back went. Like the brain, the application of the mechanical arms is something best left without description, but was almost lengthier than the brain in terms of development. Then, work was done everywhere else, and he would incise through the new metal to check its progress inward, and add, modify, and change certain things he did not like as he cut open key points and observed. The metal was sure to stitch itself back together. It would only do that, Lucian noted, when it had first been applied. In battle, damaged bodies would remain damaged until they were repaired.
By the time he had entirely finished, especially with the multiple hours it took for the brain and arms, it was nearly midnight. At this time, Lucian was dressing the new, female servitor in its robe. It was complete, and almost the spitting image of the first one, albeit female. It had an extra metal arm coming out of its back, a fifth one, and the treads were a little more efficient and durable-looking than that of its male counterpart. Lucian turned to see if his visitor had remained, though logical processes firmly suggested to the contrary.
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Post by Alexandria Lang on Nov 10, 2009 19:24:13 GMT -5
Alex considered Lucian’s answer for a brief moment, glancing between it and its servant as she came to her conclusion. To be honest, this was a victimless crime. These corpses were not being brought back to some horrifying mockery of life; their empty, rotting shells were simply being given a function, instead of wasting space as they decomposed. Any similarities between a living being and these constructs were akin to those between, say, a caterpillar and butterfly. As strange as it was to consider death a chrysalis and these machines butterflies, it was accurate enough, at least in her mind.
To a normal person, this “assimilation” would likely sound more like an abomination and a sacrilege than a process with any merit whatsoever, but Alex had never considered herself normal. Rather, she saw herself as a realist, which was more than she could say for the majority of the deluded, sentimental madmen that made up the world.
At Lucian’s comment that she could leave at any time, she hesitated for a second before making her decision. She would not be leaving. Alex had seen bodies sliced open, she’d seen bodies ripped into pieces, she‘d seen her own flesh being opened up to reveal the contents within; the very idea that she would be affected by an “operation” was laughable.
When it began, however, she soon found herself proven wrong, but not in the sense that one would assume.
Where most would be horrified, Alexandria found herself mesmerised. As she watched, flesh and metal were seamlessly melded in a display of ingenuity and logic-defying technology. Certainly, it brought forth the strong feel of revulsion and even of anger when her mind took it upon itself to remind her that she was witnessing the defilement of a human, but the rational part of her brain was quick to quell such emotions.
As time wore on, she found that her own interest could not keep up with the fatigue that was slowly overtaking her frail body. Were she capable of staying, she would have seen it to the end; every hideous and fascinating detail. Though she still felt apprehension toward Lucian, it was overshadowed by a growing respect, and even admiration. They both had a great deal of potential, and together, she could see great things coming forth.
Quietly as possible, she removed one of the papers from her blouse and the pen from behind her ear. Turning just slightly to press the paper against the wall, she wrote:
Lucian;
I don’t want to disturb your work, but I have to be off now. I believe the both of us may benefit from an alliance of sorts, since there are so few people that can be trusted or even labeled partially sane in this place. It’s likely we’ll be able to help one another, so this is not an opportunity I would advise passing up on.
Sincerely,
Alex
She read it over once, then placed the paper carefully atop a nearby stack of scrap metal. Sneaking another glance at the operation - it still looked to be working on the corpse’s brain - she quietly opened the door, slipping out and pulling it shut once in the hallway.
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