First Prosa

This is a test for a new writing style I'm trying out for a longer story.

The doctor enters the room. The airlocks repress and the gears turn, forcing the two sides of the gate to retract backward. The man takes a deep breath, using a cloth to wipe away his sweat. His eyes dart around the room as he steps in, pressing a button on the wall to his left to shut the doors again. There are three desks in total, two on the left, and one on the right. The right one has some sketching papers and tool holders. Depicted on said papers are designs for a full human body prosthetic. Previously brought to the world was small prosthetic limbs for the arms and legs, used for any soldier out of luck or person out of options. Davis has been working with his team at the NSPD to take those designs and further them into a full body in which to transplant the human brain into. He himself only knows of the possibilities and ideology in which to make such an operation happen, yet he knows nothing of how to build a robotic body. That job is for the other members of his team. On the left tables are their workstations, on which lay multiple mechanical parts for torsos, heads, legs, pelvises, arms, etc. Even some joke ideas were thrown around. A robotic cat’s tail lays sticking out of the trash next to the ebony desk. Across the room right in front of Davis is the main reason he is here today…

A machine to change the world.

One that could allow us to break God’s law.

A concept only known as impossible in years before.

The so-called masterpiece to reconstruct the body.

Our bodies are becoming obsolete as our brains advance.

The more we know,

The more  advantages we create to know,

The more the flesh we wear becomes useless.

A vessel of forgotten function,

Soon to be replaced by the hope of the future.

Is this true destruction in the making?

Or perhaps it is the exact utopia we’ve all wanted?

It all begins with this,

The finale of a long project.

Davis stands next to the machine, eyeing it with hope and anxiety. On the surface it appears to be just a thing for medical attention, one used for X-Rays perhaps. But not this time. This time within its core, on its bed, lays a robot. He pushes a button on its control panel next to the front of the machine. The bed retracts outwards, and the body is revealed. A sleek black and grey scheme. The limbs are like that of a skeleton, with no flesh or veins surrounding it. A machine needs no such things. All it requires is a controller. Before a supercomputer would be such, but now something else will be used. The brain of a two-day-old deceased woman.  They had found her dead in a Danger Zone just down Ava Avenue, five blocks away from the project center. Davis sighs as he thinks of the letter he received from his higher-ups. Joan Simon, murdered by a knife after a fierce rape. She’d called the cops moments before but they were too late. One of the few times. The men were jailed and her brain was sent in for the experiment. He’d originally thought it wasn’t consented for them to do this. But it was. His colleague later told him she had signed a waiver that any part of her that lived well enough after her death would be used for any scientific purpose possible. True, she had never stated for it to be THIS circumstance, but it was okayed by her husband. That was enough consent.

Three other men enter the room. They are all wearing a similar coat to Davis. Greyish white. All of them have glasses, except Davis. Charles walks over to the designs on the right table. Martine and Nikko inspect the limbs on the left. Charles looks at Davis.

“ Are you ready for this?”
“ Honestly… I have no idea.”

“ Are you still worried? Don’t be, we’ve calculated every last detail possible. All the ins and outs of what makes a prosthetic work, we’ve got it down.”
“ And it’s thanks to you as well man.” Nikko says. “ Without you we’d have been lost in the whole operation.”
“ But you guys handled the actual work and construction.”
“ So? You can’t do any of that unless you have a good plan. Which you gave us. We’ll get this done.” Martine says. He steps up next to Davis. “ Imma start up the machine, get it ready. When is the patient supposed to be coming in?”
“ Uh…” Davis checks his watch. It says three forty pm. “ In about twenty minutes. How exactly is it… You know.”
“ Gonna be given to us?” Nikko asks. “ I dunno. It’s just the brain, so probably in some jar or something.”
“ Ew, this’ll be gross.” Charles says jokingly.
“ It is, but that’s why we have her to help us with the transplant.” Davis points to the machine. There’ s a section just above the bed that can pop out and in which something can be placed. “ But don’t we have to touch it in order to get it in there?”

“ Yup. I have the gloves for that job.” Martine pulls out a pair of light blue gloves. “ So who wants these?” Everyone says no except for Davis, who was busy with thought. “ OK Davis, it's your job.”
“ Excuse me what?”
“ You wanted it to be more hands-on for you right?”

“ I said that BEFORE when we were not putting a BRAIN into the machine!” His team laughs.
“ Just do it. All you’re really doing is holding up the jar that it’s in over the little holder and dropping it in.” Martine tosses his gloves to Davis, who catches them hesitantly. The doors open again, and this time a woman stands there.

She is holding a black containment tube. Whatever is inside is completely invisible. She has a stern, more business looking expression on. “ Here is B-Ris. Please don’t screw this up. We don’t have a backup.” She gives it to Nikko, who wasn’t expecting it and almost drops it. The woman refrains from yelling at him. “ Please. The future of humanity is in your hands. Send us notice of the results when it’s done. I’ll be back.” She walks back down the silver hallway and the doors shut again. Nikko takes the cap off of the tube. Inside is Joan’s brain. It’s held in some kind of ice cube. His eyes sting looking directly at it. He shoves it into Davis’ hands.
“ Get it in there already. It’s freaking me out.”
“ Why do I need gloves for this again?”
“ I don’t think you do now that I think about it.” Martine says. “ But you may as well since you have them on.” Charles replaces Martine’s position next to the panel and he opens the holding pocket just above the bed. Davis carefully raises the tube and leans it downwards, letting the ice block fall into place. The holder retracts back into the machine, and Davis steps away. He puts the tube on a desk and sighs. “ So far so good. Now what?”

“ Now.” Charles presses a series of buttons and pulls on a series of levers. The machine lights up, and noises sound from it. “ We melt the ice with a little inner heat, and let the operation insert the brain.”
“ Just don’t melt the brain itself ok?” Nikko asks.
“ I’ll try. No guarantees. Who wants to volunteer their brains just in case?”
“ I will.” Martine says. They laugh, and Charles activates the heat thrusters.

Hello?

Can you hear me?

I know you can hear me.

I am Doctor Davis of NSDP.

I know you don’t know what’s going on, or where you are.

Let me explain.

You’ve been dead.

You were raped and murdered.

You remember that right?

Now you’re not dead.

By the power of science and some sleepless nights,

Your soul has been brought back down to earth.

Sorry if you were expecting heaven,

Or even hell.

You aren’t there yet.

At least I don’t think so.

Instead you are in a new body.

A prosthetic body.

Please, don’t move,

Don’t do anything.

Do nothing at all.

We will handle everything.

This will take a lot of time,

But if you just cooperate Joan,

We will get through this.

You will be the future of all of us.

Charles checks the readings on the brainwaves. “ It seems normal so far. The limbs are connecting up to the brain, and we’re getting functionality probabilities over ten hundred percent.”
“ Is that good?” Martine asks. He’s eating some ramen noodles while sitting on a chair next to Nikko, who is eating a bag of chips.

“ I think so. The dangerous levels are below five hundred. The ideal is twenty hundred. Let’s keep going.” He presses some more buttons, watching the data chart in front of him on the panel. Davis sits at a desk on the left, his face near a microphone. His body shakes and his hands rub together nervously.

“ I can’t do this.” He says.
“ Yes you can, be quiet.” Nikko says. “ That first speech was pretty good. Just keep talking. Let her know what’s going on. Tell her that she’ll be feeling normal once we remove the bed from the machine.”
“ Mhm. You got this mate.” Martine says. Davis exhales heavily.
“ Ok...Ok. Charles?”
“ Yup. You can go again when you’re ready. She can hear again now.” Davis wets his lips.

“ Hello? It’s me again. You’re doing great so far. I… I know you have lots of questions. They will be answered. Just focus on my voice, please. You’ll black out again, and next time you’ll be able to move. Just don’t try to move, and don’t even try to think. Please.” He cuts off the call.

“ So how long are we waiting?” Martine asks.
“ About ten minutes.” Charles turns away from the panel. “ Davis, if there are any other soothing words you wanna say, go ahead. Not sure if she’ll hear during blackout, but it couldn’t hurt.”

Ten minutes later. Charles moves the bed out of the machine and into the air of the room. The body lays still. The head, which is designed simply as a block of black, shows no signs of moving.

“ When are we gonna outfit her with a skin set?” Nikko asks. Everyone shushes him. This next part has to be quiet and done carefully. It’s now or never. Charles presses a button and Joan’s hearing and conscience turn on. Two slots open up on the face, showing that she’s awake.  

Light. Feeling. Breeze. Thoughts. Eyes. People. Life. Not dead.

Where am I?
Who are these things looking at me?
I can’t see.

I see them now.

Four of them.

Are they speaking to me?
One of them sounds familiar.

Johnathon? No. He wouldn’t be here.

Is it that voice that spoke to me before?

Must be. Why is he here? He? Them? What gender are they?

They’re human right?
Of course, we are all human.

Wait… I can see now. I can move now.

Am I supposed to do something?
They are telling me to do something.

To move my left arm.

Ok. Done.

Now my right arm.

Done.

Same with my legs. Left and right.
Done.

My head, tilt it to the sides and raise it up. Gently.

Done.

Why are they so nervous?

I’m perfectly fine.

Any good person should be able to move their body.

What’s wrong?

The doctors look at each, feeling relieved. The body can move properly in response to the brain telling it to do so after hearing a command. Its reaction rate is close to that of a lifetime trained athlete. Yet Joan was never an athlete, she was an office worker, sending out help to people’s computer issues. They nod to each other. Next phase. “ Joan?” Davis speaks slowly. The green dots inside the slots face him. He stops for a moment, then continues. “ You’ve done exceptionally well so far. We’re almost out of here. I think. Now, one last thing before we have you get up.” He nods to Charles who activates the prosthesis’ mouth. “ Can you talk?” At first nothing happens. The blank face’s mouth opens, a slit of pure metal inside. It closes and opens again, over and over.
“ It is not working?” Martine asks. “ Joan, can you say hello?”
“ H...H-....” Agonizing silence. “ Hello.”

The room is quiet for a moment. The doctors are holding in their excitement. Nikko squishes his bag of chips.
“ Hello. Hello. Am I talking? Talking? This is English right?” The body says.
“ Yes… Yes!” Charles says. “ Joan you are speaking perfectly well! Oh my god…”
“ Now, how do you feel? Do you feel any pain at all anywhere?” Davis asks. The body is still again.
“ No. I feel… Amazing.” Silence passes. “ Wasn’t I raped?”
“ You sure were, but we took care of that for you.” Nikko says. “ Well not us, but the government did.”
“ One of the few times you can thank them.” Davis says. The body is silent.

“ Am I laughing? I feel like I am laughing.” The body says.
“ No we can’t tell. But don’t worry, you don’t have any skin yet. You just have a simple mechanical skeleton again. Once we get you up and to the higher-ups, then we can suit you up with a skin type of your choice.”
“ Higher-ups?”
“ Yes. The guys in charge around here at NSDP.” Martine says. He gets up. “ You guys help her up, I’ll call in Sila.”
“ Already? What if she gets here early?” Charles asks.

“ I’ll wait till you’ve gotten her up don’t worry. Just come on guys.” Three of the doctors move in to help the body sit and stand up.

I am a robot.

Since when was that agreed upon?
I never said they could do this to me!
I volunteered for anything else but this.

It’s not like I have a choice now do I.

My head is mush,

My thoughts are slow, yet slowly kicking up speed.

I started out with nothing, like a newborn.

Yet I am remembering everything that’s happened.

My life.

My schools, my job, my husband.

My death.

The wavier.

Did he let this happen?

Let me be pulled down to earth once again,

To walk its streets perpetually?

I feel fine.

I can move, and speak, and see just like before.

Why are they all so nervous?

New people came in, looked me over.

Can’t deny I felt naked.

Naked of what?
I have no skin, yet.

I only have…. What is this?

Metal?

Oh no.

I can’t feel anything

I can’t smell anything.

How am I even seeing or hearing or moving?
I know biology, but none of that shall help now.

The kind of structure I unwillingly possess,

Is nothing that was ever known before.

Especially not to me.

They look at where my genitals should be, used to be.

Nothing there now.

Am I no longer to enjoy them? And to hate them?

Same can be said for my breasts.

Are they no longer to be enjoyed?

Neither exists now, only dark plates.

But what of this selection of skin?

I find it hard to believe I’ll walk out of here someone new,

Yet with the same mind I used to have.

It’s almost like a book.

Or is it really someone new?

Or am I just still me?

What skin am I to wear?

Do I stay true to myself,

Or let me be consumed by a new curiosity?

Does my husband know? He’ll hate me.

What happens now?

Step and step.

Furthermore into the future.

I guess I’ll find out.

That’s all we can do.

Later on that day, Joan is brought into a bright white testing room. The walls are bare and the door shuts behind her. A glass room looks into the space, where behind a control panel sits Sila and an assistant woman. She wears headphones and watches Joan. Her new skin glows healthy. She has a simple blue jumpsuit on. “ Now, Joan. We will finish your testing for today. After this you can go home. Well, hopefully. If not we have other places. But for now, let’s see what you can do with your new prosthesis.”

“ Ok. I hear you.” Joan says. “ What the hell, let’s see what I am now.”

Author's Note

this is a test that incorporates a poem into a normal story style.