BEYOND THE BUTCHER OF Z-25b
The smell of bleach floods my nose as I regain consciousness again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve slipped into the hands of darkness. I take a deep breath but what’s the point, there are no lungs in my chest that need them. My cochlear implant clicks following the creaking sound of the door.
“You’re awake, good.” Doctor Rotimi says with a lopsided grin. He grips his scalpel— his favourite toy— in his right hand. He doesn’t stop cutting me until he satisfies his curiosities.
All I hear are screams. My screams, as he plunges the scalpel into the skin of my arm. You’d think losing my legs would teach me to adapt to the pain but one doesn’t get used to pain. He doesn’t give me anything to numb the pain.
And because of my cochlear implants, my screams are heightened, I can hear them at piercing decibels. I try to reach for my ears, to block the penetrating sound, but my hands are suspended by his chains.
“It will soon be over. And you, you will be a god. An evolved human.”
“Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth, with blood-mixed saliva splashing on his face. He wipes it and grins. It’s like my pain turns him on. I shake my body violently. I know what he’s going to do, get that mad A. I of his to push me into stasis if I disrupt his procedure any further. But what would you do? Would you sit— rather hang— and watch him tear out your arm. My muscles begin tearing apart and bones break so he can replace it with a prosthetic arm.
I shake the memories as I twist my robotic arm in place, tightening the bolts. Can’t have my arm falling off during a fight now, can I? I ask the tools spread across my table. Entering District Z-25b was easier than I had expected. 5 years in that facility, cost me three limbs, my heart valves, my lungs, my cochlear, and nearly my retina. All because a mad man wanted to advance humanity.
He decided since I had no one who would remember me, I was his perfect mule. But not anymore. He wasn’t going to be experimenting any time soon.
I stretch my engines and prep them for my escape. They had that policewoman track me 6 months ago. She’s good, I’ll admit. Almost got me even. But this time, I’m prepared for her. She’ll know not to mess with the butcher of Z-25b.