In the heart of The Facility, Bell, clad in his hazmat suit, maneuvered a bed through the sterile corridors, carrying the comatose form of Lisa. Accompanied by three other doctors from the medical team, each of them also enveloped in protective gear, they moved with urgency yet care.
Bell coughed into his gas mask, the muffled sound echoing slightly in the confined space. He couldn't help but notice the ominous blood stains marking each of their masks – a stark reminder of the dire situation they were in. Patience was crucial, yet challenging, as Bell himself grappled with bloody coughs and shortness of breath.
They reached the central hallway, a hive of activity where the uninfected staff worked tirelessly, day and night, in a desperate race against time. Their mission: to halt the virus's relentless march. The antivirals they administered provided a brief respite, a momentary delay in the face of the inevitable. Like a scene from a dystopian world, everyone was garbed in biohazard suits, their personal armor against the invisible enemy.
“This way,” directed a scientist, leading them to the room where a crucial brain scan awaited. Bell had been in this room once before, under vastly different circumstances, facing the unknown of what they might do to a demon’s body. Now, his only hope was that their project would succeed and he would be reunited with Lisa.
In the room, two scientists stood by a vacant brain scanning pod, its ominous presence filling the space. Gently, the doctors and Bell positioned Lisa on the pod, her stillness accentuated by the absence of a leg and an arm. The neuroscientist and neurosurgeon extended a waiver for Bell to sign, acknowledging that Lisa, trapped in her coma, could not consent to the procedure. With a heavy heart, Bell signed the paper.
As they fitted the medical device onto Lisa’s head, the pod seamlessly integrated with the helmet, securing her without a hint of movement. The atmosphere in the room grew tense.
“Initiating drilling,” announced one of the scientists.
A soft, mechanical whirring filled the room, a stark contrast to the eerie silence that had preceded it. Then, a disturbing sight: red liquid mixed with bone fragments began to flow from a tube attached to the helmet. This was quickly followed by a stream of grey liquid. On the nearby monitor, a loading screen flickered to life, signaling the start of a procedure shrouded in uncertainty and hope.
[00:30:00 Until Conversion Complete]
[You Can Talk With The Subject Now]
"What exactly does it do?" Bell's voice, muffled by his gas mask, conveyed a mixture of curiosity and unease.
One of the scientists responded, their tone a blend of scientific enthusiasm and uncertainty. "We don't have a complete understanding yet, but it appears to involve nanomachines that are directed toward her brain. Additionally, the helmet is inscribed with necromancy runes. Our current theory is that these runes anchor her soul, while the nanomachines transform her brain into a digital format."
"In simpler terms?" Bell prodded the surgeon for a clearer explanation.
The surgeon distilled it for him, saying, "In plain language, the machine replicates her brain, and the necromancy ensures the continuity of her consciousness. That's the essence of it."
As they spoke, the monitor came to life with a soundwave interface. Suddenly, a familiar voice, one that Bell hadn't heard in the harrowing three days since the initial assault and the subsequent outbreak, filled the room.
“Lisa, are you there?” Bell asked, his voice still distorted by the mask.
“I’m here, but it’s like I'm in this dark, unknown place. What happened?” Lisa’s voice emerged from the computer’s speaker. “The last thing I remember is a dragon erupting from the ground, and then everything went black. Where am I?”
Bell attempted a light-hearted response, despite the acute pain spreading across his chest and the relentless destruction of his lung tissue. “You're in a sort of limbo,” he joked. “Actually, you're part of Project ANIMA, and now, Project SOMA.”
Lisa’s voice, tinged with a mix of bewilderment and concern, came through the speaker again. “I can't say I'm thrilled. What’s next for me?”
Bell looked at her motionless body on the scanner, the machine's beeping the only sign of life. “You'll be transferred into a synthetic body. We're not sure how it will work, but we're hopeful. And you’ll have to fill me in on how you lost an arm and both legs.”
“I know,” Lisa replied, a note of resignation in her voice. Then, the monitor fell silent, leaving the room in a tense quietude, filled with both uncertainty and a faint glimmer of hope.
The intricate process of mapping and digitizing Lisa's neural pathways continued, the nanomachines at work a marvel of science and technology. The team, including Bell, watched with bated breath as the countdown on the monitor decreased steadily, each second ticking away in anticipation of a groundbreaking achievement. When the timer finally hit zero, the room was enveloped in a tense, expectant silence. Then, the monitor lit up with a bright green display, announcing the successful completion of the conversion process.
Without a moment's delay, Bell and the team hurried to the location of Project SOMA. In the center of the room stood a tank, now filled with a shimmering silver liquid that likely housed micro or nanomachines of an advanced, perhaps even unknown, nature. Bell felt a sense of awe mixed with confusion, likening himself to a primitive observer in the face of such incomprehensible technology.
On one of the nearby monitors, a progress screen flickered to life. The scientists intently watched the progress bar fill, a visual representation of the ongoing transformation. Bell’s mind raced with questions. Were the machines reconstructing Lisa's brain, or were they shaping the synthetic body to mirror her physical appearance? The specifics eluded him.
After what felt like an eternity, the liquid slowly drained from the tank, revealing a figure that bore a striking resemblance to Lisa. Her face, with its familiar black hair and distinct features, was immediately recognizable. However, beyond these biological elements, the transformation was profound.
The rest of the body was encased in dark metal plating, alternating between shades of black, dark blue and dark red. Even the biological part, Lisa's face, was marked with seams, probably something regarding to the fusion of organic and synthetic.
Initially, there was only a subtle twitch of the fingers, but then, miraculously, its eyes opened. The gaze that met Bell’s was undeniably Lisa's, a connection that transcended her new, extraordinary form. With a fluid, almost surreal motion, the synthetic Lisa stood up. The tube glasses lifted automatically, allowing her to step out into the new world that awaited her.
As Lisa regarded her transformed body, a sense of wonder mingled with disbelief played across her features. Her face and hair, unchanged, served as a familiar touchstone amidst the stark reality of her new existence. The duality of her appearance – the unchanged visage atop a body of dark, sleek metal – was a poignant reminder of the extraordinary journey she had just undergone.
The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. Dark metal plating, adorned with intricate patterns of dark blue and red, now stood where flesh and bone once were. Lisa, observing her new form, lifted her arm, watching as the metallic surface reflected the lab's dim lighting. The smooth, fluid motion was both mesmerizing and alien to her.
As she experimented with the movements of her fingers, the sound of metal on metal echoed in the room, a vivid departure from the softness of human movement she had known all her life. "It feels so strange," Lisa voiced softly, her tone a mix of wonder and disorientation. "Efficient and precise, yet... it doesn't feel human."
A neuroscientist approached her, curiosity evident in his demeanor. “How do you feel, Lisa?”
“Odd,” she replied, her fingers gently rubbing against each other, exploring the new sensation. “It’s metal, yet when I touch it, it feels akin to skin-to-skin contact.”
“No difference in tactile sensation?” inquired the neuroscientist.
“None at all,” confirmed Lisa.
“Fascinating,” he murmured, visibly intrigued. “Can you share more about your experience in this new body?”
Lisa searched for the right words. “It’s simultaneously normal and abnormal. It's what I wanted, in a way, but I never truly prepared for it – not in this life, nor the previous one,” she mused. “The challenge feels more psychological than neurological, if you ask me.”
The neuroscientist nodded thoughtfully. “Would you like some time with Bell? He played a significant role in your selection as the primary candidate for this project.”
Lisa’s eyes softened. “Yes, please,” she responded, a hint of relief in her voice.
The room grew quiet as the neuroscientist stepped away, leaving Bell and Lisa in a moment of private reunion. This was more than a scientific breakthrough; it was a deeply personal journey for both of them. As Bell approached Lisa, there was a palpable mix of emotions – awe at the technological marvel before him, and a deep, resonant connection with the person he knew Lisa to be, no matter her form.
Bell approached Lisa, his expression a complex tapestry of relief, awe, and an underlying current of worry. The transformation before him was nothing short of a technological marvel, yet it was imbued with an emotional depth that was hard to fully comprehend.
"Lisa," he began, his voice slightly muffled by the gas mask, "this is... it's remarkable. But I can only imagine the multitude of feelings you must be experiencing. Are you satisfied? Angry? Awkward? My biggest fear is that you might have changed in some fundamental way."
Lisa, her new metallic fingers gently tracing the contours of her face, looked up at him. "It's a lot to take in, Bell. I still feel like myself, yet at the same time, I'm something entirely new. It's both familiar and foreign."
Lisa shifted the topic to the future. "So, what's next?"
"As you mentioned, finding a cure for the plague is our top priority," Bell replied. "With your assistance, I believe we can make significant strides. Additionally, your... former body could provide invaluable samples for our research."
Bell was taken aback by Lisa's embrace, the cold metal of her new form pressing against him in a way that was both unfamiliar and comforting. Her grip was surprisingly strong, the metallic hands holding him with an intensity that spoke volumes of her still-human emotions. Despite the initial shock, Bell found himself accepting the embrace, a poignant reminder of their enduring bond.
As Lisa released him from her iron-tight hug, Bell managed a lighthearted nod. “Awesome. I'll be seeing you around, then—assuming I make it through all this,” he joked, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy despite the dire circumstances.
Lisa responded with a hint of her characteristic humor. “Don’t worry, you will. Just steer clear of any healing spells, okay?”
Bell chuckled, “Hahaha, got it,” but his laughter was soon interrupted by another cough. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Either Lisa would find a cure, or Bell's time in this world would be cut short. He wasn't afraid of death itself, but the thought of being left alone, isolated like a king without his kingdom, was a haunting prospect.
Shortly after that, Bell left the facility with the JLTV, feeling that his cough only got worse and worse. He could still drive, but he could feel that bruises forming up all over his body, the novelty sign of that LIHV virus. The other soldiers were accompanying him, with various similar symptoms to him, some had extreme nausea, some had bloody urine, some had bloody stools, and so on.
“Sir, if I don’t make it, can you tell my wife?” A soldier suddenly said.
“Who’s your wife?”
The soldier then hummed, “You know sir, forget it, she will probably die first.”
“She’s in the hospital?”
“Lying down with multiple machines in the ICU, sir. Our child didn’t make it either,” he explained.
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Not your fault, sir. We tried our best, didn’t we?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, Bell hit the brake, something was wrong with him. He could feel his breath was running out, and sweat was flowing on his face. What was going on? He didn’t understand. He felt his heart was about to burst open, alongside with extreme pain on his neck.
“SIR, SIR!” A soldier shouted.
Bell couldn’t focus on anything, the pain was simply too much. Then, the fear hit him, would he die? Right now? Before the answer even came, he passed out from the pain. After that, only darkness greeted him. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t talk, it was only dark.
In the heart of The Facility, Bell, clad in his hazmat suit, maneuvered a bed through the sterile corridors, carrying the comatose form of Lisa. Accompanied by three other doctors from the medical team, each of them also enveloped in protective gear, they moved with urgency yet care.
Bell coughed into his gas mask, the muffled sound echoing slightly in the confined space. He couldn't help but notice the ominous blood stains marking each of their masks – a stark reminder of the dire situation they were in. Patience was crucial, yet challenging, as Bell himself grappled with bloody coughs and shortness of breath.
They reached the central hallway, a hive of activity where the uninfected staff worked tirelessly, day and night, in a desperate race against time. Their mission: to halt the virus's relentless march. The antivirals they administered provided a brief respite, a momentary delay in the face of the inevitable. Like a scene from a dystopian world, everyone was garbed in biohazard suits, their personal armor against the invisible enemy.
“This way,” directed a scientist, leading them to the room where a crucial brain scan awaited. Bell had been in this room once before, under vastly different circumstances, facing the unknown of what they might do to a demon’s body. Now, his only hope was that their project would succeed and he would be reunited with Lisa.
In the room, two scientists stood by a vacant brain scanning pod, its ominous presence filling the space. Gently, the doctors and Bell positioned Lisa on the pod, her stillness accentuated by the absence of a leg and an arm. The neuroscientist and neurosurgeon extended a waiver for Bell to sign, acknowledging that Lisa, trapped in her coma, could not consent to the procedure. With a heavy heart, Bell signed the paper.
As they fitted the medical device onto Lisa’s head, the pod seamlessly integrated with the helmet, securing her without a hint of movement. The atmosphere in the room grew tense.
“Initiating drilling,” announced one of the scientists.
A soft, mechanical whirring filled the room, a stark contrast to the eerie silence that had preceded it. Then, a disturbing sight: red liquid mixed with bone fragments began to flow from a tube attached to the helmet. This was quickly followed by a stream of grey liquid. On the nearby monitor, a loading screen flickered to life, signaling the start of a procedure shrouded in uncertainty and hope.
[00:30:00 Until Conversion Complete]
[You Can Talk With The Subject Now]
"What exactly does it do?" Bell's voice, muffled by his gas mask, conveyed a mixture of curiosity and unease.
One of the scientists responded, their tone a blend of scientific enthusiasm and uncertainty. "We don't have a complete understanding yet, but it appears to involve nanomachines that are directed toward her brain. Additionally, the helmet is inscribed with necromancy runes. Our current theory is that these runes anchor her soul, while the nanomachines transform her brain into a digital format."
"In simpler terms?" Bell prodded the surgeon for a clearer explanation.
The surgeon distilled it for him, saying, "In plain language, the machine replicates her brain, and the necromancy ensures the continuity of her consciousness. That's the essence of it."
As they spoke, the monitor came to life with a soundwave interface. Suddenly, a familiar voice, one that Bell hadn't heard in the harrowing three days since the initial assault and the subsequent outbreak, filled the room.
“Lisa, are you there?” Bell asked, his voice still distorted by the mask.
“I’m here, but it’s like I'm in this dark, unknown place. What happened?” Lisa’s voice emerged from the computer’s speaker. “The last thing I remember is a dragon erupting from the ground, and then everything went black. Where am I?”
Bell attempted a light-hearted response, despite the acute pain spreading across his chest and the relentless destruction of his lung tissue. “You're in a sort of limbo,” he joked. “Actually, you're part of Project ANIMA, and now, Project SOMA.”
Lisa’s voice, tinged with a mix of bewilderment and concern, came through the speaker again. “I can't say I'm thrilled. What’s next for me?”
Bell looked at her motionless body on the scanner, the machine's beeping the only sign of life. “You'll be transferred into a synthetic body. We're not sure how it will work, but we're hopeful. And you’ll have to fill me in on how you lost an arm and both legs.”
“I know,” Lisa replied, a note of resignation in her voice. Then, the monitor fell silent, leaving the room in a tense quietude, filled with both uncertainty and a faint glimmer of hope.
The intricate process of mapping and digitizing Lisa's neural pathways continued, the nanomachines at work a marvel of science and technology. The team, including Bell, watched with bated breath as the countdown on the monitor decreased steadily, each second ticking away in anticipation of a groundbreaking achievement. When the timer finally hit zero, the room was enveloped in a tense, expectant silence. Then, the monitor lit up with a bright green display, announcing the successful completion of the conversion process.
Without a moment's delay, Bell and the team hurried to the location of Project SOMA. In the center of the room stood a tank, now filled with a shimmering silver liquid that likely housed micro or nanomachines of an advanced, perhaps even unknown, nature. Bell felt a sense of awe mixed with confusion, likening himself to a primitive observer in the face of such incomprehensible technology.
On one of the nearby monitors, a progress screen flickered to life. The scientists intently watched the progress bar fill, a visual representation of the ongoing transformation. Bell’s mind raced with questions. Were the machines reconstructing Lisa's brain, or were they shaping the synthetic body to mirror her physical appearance? The specifics eluded him.
After what felt like an eternity, the liquid slowly drained from the tank, revealing a figure that bore a striking resemblance to Lisa. Her face, with its familiar black hair and distinct features, was immediately recognizable. However, beyond these biological elements, the transformation was profound.
The rest of the body was encased in dark metal plating, alternating between shades of black, dark blue and dark red. Even the biological part, Lisa's face, was marked with seams, probably something regarding to the fusion of organic and synthetic.
Initially, there was only a subtle twitch of the fingers, but then, miraculously, its eyes opened. The gaze that met Bell’s was undeniably Lisa's, a connection that transcended her new, extraordinary form. With a fluid, almost surreal motion, the synthetic Lisa stood up. The tube glasses lifted automatically, allowing her to step out into the new world that awaited her.
As Lisa regarded her transformed body, a sense of wonder mingled with disbelief played across her features. Her face and hair, unchanged, served as a familiar touchstone amidst the stark reality of her new existence. The duality of her appearance – the unchanged visage atop a body of dark, sleek metal – was a poignant reminder of the extraordinary journey she had just undergone.
The transformation was nothing short of miraculous. Dark metal plating, adorned with intricate patterns of dark blue and red, now stood where flesh and bone once were. Lisa, observing her new form, lifted her arm, watching as the metallic surface reflected the lab's dim lighting. The smooth, fluid motion was both mesmerizing and alien to her.
As she experimented with the movements of her fingers, the sound of metal on metal echoed in the room, a vivid departure from the softness of human movement she had known all her life. "It feels so strange," Lisa voiced softly, her tone a mix of wonder and disorientation. "Efficient and precise, yet... it doesn't feel human."
A neuroscientist approached her, curiosity evident in his demeanor. “How do you feel, Lisa?”
“Odd,” she replied, her fingers gently rubbing against each other, exploring the new sensation. “It’s metal, yet when I touch it, it feels akin to skin-to-skin contact.”
“No difference in tactile sensation?” inquired the neuroscientist.
“None at all,” confirmed Lisa.
“Fascinating,” he murmured, visibly intrigued. “Can you share more about your experience in this new body?”
Lisa searched for the right words. “It’s simultaneously normal and abnormal. It's what I wanted, in a way, but I never truly prepared for it – not in this life, nor the previous one,” she mused. “The challenge feels more psychological than neurological, if you ask me.”
The neuroscientist nodded thoughtfully. “Would you like some time with Bell? He played a significant role in your selection as the primary candidate for this project.”
Lisa’s eyes softened. “Yes, please,” she responded, a hint of relief in her voice.
The room grew quiet as the neuroscientist stepped away, leaving Bell and Lisa in a moment of private reunion. This was more than a scientific breakthrough; it was a deeply personal journey for both of them. As Bell approached Lisa, there was a palpable mix of emotions – awe at the technological marvel before him, and a deep, resonant connection with the person he knew Lisa to be, no matter her form.
Bell approached Lisa, his expression a complex tapestry of relief, awe, and an underlying current of worry. The transformation before him was nothing short of a technological marvel, yet it was imbued with an emotional depth that was hard to fully comprehend.
"Lisa," he began, his voice slightly muffled by the gas mask, "this is... it's remarkable. But I can only imagine the multitude of feelings you must be experiencing. Are you satisfied? Angry? Awkward? My biggest fear is that you might have changed in some fundamental way."
Lisa, her new metallic fingers gently tracing the contours of her face, looked up at him. "It's a lot to take in, Bell. I still feel like myself, yet at the same time, I'm something entirely new. It's both familiar and foreign."
Lisa shifted the topic to the future. "So, what's next?"
"As you mentioned, finding a cure for the plague is our top priority," Bell replied. "With your assistance, I believe we can make significant strides. Additionally, your... former body could provide invaluable samples for our research."
Bell was taken aback by Lisa's embrace, the cold metal of her new form pressing against him in a way that was both unfamiliar and comforting. Her grip was surprisingly strong, the metallic hands holding him with an intensity that spoke volumes of her still-human emotions. Despite the initial shock, Bell found himself accepting the embrace, a poignant reminder of their enduring bond.
As Lisa released him from her iron-tight hug, Bell managed a lighthearted nod. “Awesome. I'll be seeing you around, then—assuming I make it through all this,” he joked, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy despite the dire circumstances.
Lisa responded with a hint of her characteristic humor. “Don’t worry, you will. Just steer clear of any healing spells, okay?”
Bell chuckled, “Hahaha, got it,” but his laughter was soon interrupted by another cough. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Either Lisa would find a cure, or Bell's time in this world would be cut short. He wasn't afraid of death itself, but the thought of being left alone, isolated like a king without his kingdom, was a haunting prospect.
Shortly after that, Bell left the facility with the JLTV, feeling that his cough only got worse and worse. He could still drive, but he could feel that bruises forming up all over his body, the novelty sign of that LIHV virus. The other soldiers were accompanying him, with various similar symptoms to him, some had extreme nausea, some had bloody urine, some had bloody stools, and so on.
“Sir, if I don’t make it, can you tell my wife?” A soldier suddenly said.
“Who’s your wife?”
The soldier then hummed, “You know sir, forget it, she will probably die first.”
“She’s in the hospital?”
“Lying down with multiple machines in the ICU, sir. Our child didn’t make it either,” he explained.
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Not your fault, sir. We tried our best, didn’t we?”
“Yeah.”
Suddenly, Bell hit the brake, something was wrong with him. He could feel his breath was running out, and sweat was flowing on his face. What was going on? He didn’t understand. He felt his heart was about to burst open, alongside with extreme pain on his neck.
“SIR, SIR!” A soldier shouted.
Bell couldn’t focus on anything, the pain was simply too much. Then, the fear hit him, would he die? Right now? Before the answer even came, he passed out from the pain. After that, only darkness greeted him. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t talk, it was only dark.
