Labyrinthine
February 23rd, 2013, 06:11 AM
(Any feedback and criticism is greatly appreciated!)
Electricity thrummed steadily through the machines that filled the room. Dr. James Northrom didn't hear it anymore, having worked so long there. The laboratory. His working chamber. The place of his wife's imminent rebirth. The place was cold, sterile, and yet all at once warm and alive: the walls, floor, counters and ceiling were all composed of hard titanium, while the computer consoles and cabinets all radiated a reassuring glow. One port side window allowed a view out into space. That crushing black emptiness surrounded James' science vessel, and had surrounded his heart for too long: tonight, the burning, beautiful life of the stars themselves would at long last be his. It would be Amabel's.
Amabel. Her lifeless body lay as bare and beautiful as a frost-felled flower. Behind the glass and in the translucent fluid of the vertical preservation tube, her vibrant red hair still flowed over her shoulders onto her small, round breasts. Her skin was fair as ever, and then a bit more pale than usual, the preservation not being perfect enough to maintain the faint pink life of her face. Her eyelids lay closed, and her delicate arms limp at her sides. Amabel. Disease, faith, and failure had slain her, all those years ago...today, technology, love, and will would save her. James touched one hand to the glass, and whispered: “See you soon, my darling” as he smiled, the first time he'd smiled in his wife's presence in...well, too long. She'd been dead too long.
With a grin upon his face, James turned now to the other, identically-sized and situated tube that occupied the laboratory. It contained an identical, lovely and pale young woman. This one was lifeless too, but only temporarily. Her skin was formed of a complex, nickel-reinforced polymer, her heart an electrical pump, and her brain of nano-scale circuit chips: it could all be upgraded, made more durable and more life-like but for now, it truly would be Amabel in the flesh, just as soon as her mind was ready. The bundle of wires that would implant that mind ran from the back of her neck down to the base of the tube in which she floated.
James looked at the standing console to his left: the hard drives connected to it held all of his beloved wife's audio and video recordings, and written and typed journal entries and letters. Added to it, he himself had collected all relevant data of his own, and everything from his friends, Amabel's friends, her family, his family. All the memories and data that made a person, a person. Using that, James had spent years working with his brother and other fellow scientists and programmers in reconstructing Amabel, in the mind. She wasn't awake yet. That awakening, that rebirth after her 20 years' sleep, her 20 years' death, had waited until tonight, when her beautiful mind would reunite with a new and beautiful body.
James tapped the console screen, bringing up the download program. A high-capacity bundle of fiber-optic cables already ran from the computer banks to the tube which held the new body. James, after taking and releasing a deep breath, pressed his index finger to the “Initiate” icon. The thrum of electrical circuitry instantly grew louder and higher. James' grin grew wider, and he rubbed his gloved hands together a bit. The “robot's” tube moved itself by hydraulic lifts to a horizontal position. The thick translucent fluid began to drain from the new body's tube, bubbles flowing rapidly upwards in the process. All the while, blue lights flickered along the download cables. After almost a minute, but what felt like a year, the maintenance fluid was gone, and the nude, replicated Amabel lay pure and damp, clear to the eyes as a new day. The cable in her neck disconnected itself and slithered away, and the hole there sealed up.
James paused. In a brief moment, a terrifying chill rose up from his feet through to his face: could his work, his loving, dedicated quest, have failed? He steeled himself, and approached the tube (bed now?) that held his lover's new body, and, he assured himself, her mind. “Amabel...?” James breathed, anticipation rich in his voice. The woman's eyelids opened. Her beautiful, flawless, green eyes showed, moving about wildly now, but moving, and oh how real, how alive! “Amabel!” James cried ecstatically. He leaned over his wife, so she could see his face. Her eyes stopped on his face. Her facial expressions began now: bewilderment, fear, wonder, and finally, contentment. Her eyes smiled, and her lips and teeth followed. (Her lips and teeth, and her whole face, so fresh and new!) “J-J-...James.” she cautiously sighed, her eyes flickering with recognition. “Yes Amabel, my love, it's me!” His heart exploded with joy, all at once he grabbed hold of her slightly-slimy, warm left hand, and moved in for a long-awaited kiss: she met him halfway up, grabbing hold of his head with her right hand. The long-separated lovers held that kiss, that beautiful, perfect, anticipated, overdue kiss, until they both ran out of breath, and then, they did it again.
Renasci Ex Machina.
Electricity thrummed steadily through the machines that filled the room. Dr. James Northrom didn't hear it anymore, having worked so long there. The laboratory. His working chamber. The place of his wife's imminent rebirth. The place was cold, sterile, and yet all at once warm and alive: the walls, floor, counters and ceiling were all composed of hard titanium, while the computer consoles and cabinets all radiated a reassuring glow. One port side window allowed a view out into space. That crushing black emptiness surrounded James' science vessel, and had surrounded his heart for too long: tonight, the burning, beautiful life of the stars themselves would at long last be his. It would be Amabel's.
Amabel. Her lifeless body lay as bare and beautiful as a frost-felled flower. Behind the glass and in the translucent fluid of the vertical preservation tube, her vibrant red hair still flowed over her shoulders onto her small, round breasts. Her skin was fair as ever, and then a bit more pale than usual, the preservation not being perfect enough to maintain the faint pink life of her face. Her eyelids lay closed, and her delicate arms limp at her sides. Amabel. Disease, faith, and failure had slain her, all those years ago...today, technology, love, and will would save her. James touched one hand to the glass, and whispered: “See you soon, my darling” as he smiled, the first time he'd smiled in his wife's presence in...well, too long. She'd been dead too long.
With a grin upon his face, James turned now to the other, identically-sized and situated tube that occupied the laboratory. It contained an identical, lovely and pale young woman. This one was lifeless too, but only temporarily. Her skin was formed of a complex, nickel-reinforced polymer, her heart an electrical pump, and her brain of nano-scale circuit chips: it could all be upgraded, made more durable and more life-like but for now, it truly would be Amabel in the flesh, just as soon as her mind was ready. The bundle of wires that would implant that mind ran from the back of her neck down to the base of the tube in which she floated.
James looked at the standing console to his left: the hard drives connected to it held all of his beloved wife's audio and video recordings, and written and typed journal entries and letters. Added to it, he himself had collected all relevant data of his own, and everything from his friends, Amabel's friends, her family, his family. All the memories and data that made a person, a person. Using that, James had spent years working with his brother and other fellow scientists and programmers in reconstructing Amabel, in the mind. She wasn't awake yet. That awakening, that rebirth after her 20 years' sleep, her 20 years' death, had waited until tonight, when her beautiful mind would reunite with a new and beautiful body.
James tapped the console screen, bringing up the download program. A high-capacity bundle of fiber-optic cables already ran from the computer banks to the tube which held the new body. James, after taking and releasing a deep breath, pressed his index finger to the “Initiate” icon. The thrum of electrical circuitry instantly grew louder and higher. James' grin grew wider, and he rubbed his gloved hands together a bit. The “robot's” tube moved itself by hydraulic lifts to a horizontal position. The thick translucent fluid began to drain from the new body's tube, bubbles flowing rapidly upwards in the process. All the while, blue lights flickered along the download cables. After almost a minute, but what felt like a year, the maintenance fluid was gone, and the nude, replicated Amabel lay pure and damp, clear to the eyes as a new day. The cable in her neck disconnected itself and slithered away, and the hole there sealed up.
James paused. In a brief moment, a terrifying chill rose up from his feet through to his face: could his work, his loving, dedicated quest, have failed? He steeled himself, and approached the tube (bed now?) that held his lover's new body, and, he assured himself, her mind. “Amabel...?” James breathed, anticipation rich in his voice. The woman's eyelids opened. Her beautiful, flawless, green eyes showed, moving about wildly now, but moving, and oh how real, how alive! “Amabel!” James cried ecstatically. He leaned over his wife, so she could see his face. Her eyes stopped on his face. Her facial expressions began now: bewilderment, fear, wonder, and finally, contentment. Her eyes smiled, and her lips and teeth followed. (Her lips and teeth, and her whole face, so fresh and new!) “J-J-...James.” she cautiously sighed, her eyes flickering with recognition. “Yes Amabel, my love, it's me!” His heart exploded with joy, all at once he grabbed hold of her slightly-slimy, warm left hand, and moved in for a long-awaited kiss: she met him halfway up, grabbing hold of his head with her right hand. The long-separated lovers held that kiss, that beautiful, perfect, anticipated, overdue kiss, until they both ran out of breath, and then, they did it again.
Renasci Ex Machina.