9Prologue
Arise, Lazarus
"Breathe in….breathe out."
Dr. Fell watched the monitors. The readings elevated, and dropped suddenly, fluctuating back and forth dangerously. He repeated himself and waited for his patient to comply. A rise, a dip, the 'heart' sputtering frantically and then...working. Pumping again, forty over twenty… fifty-three over thirty-four, higher until the blood pressure was at the optimal ninety-three over sixty-one. The beats per minute (or something like it) slowly slid until it landed at fifty, a direct inverse to the oxygenation as it climbed higher and higher with each labored breath.
The doctor laughed a little, nearly hysterical with exhaustion and victory. He lived-his greatest creation lived. A specimen of the prehistoric and the futuristic-a blend of nature and mechanics, half man half man-made. A physician assistant hurried to slide a stool behind the surgeon, Fell dropping into gratefully as he stripped himself of his bloody gloves, flinging them into the overflowing, red-stained garbage can by his feet.
The man lived-but that was not enough. His vitals functioned, the organs were working; that was all well and good, but the brain was another thing. Fell slid the stool closer to the operating table.
This wasn't a hospital, they didn't have an anesthesiologist and what little they had stolen from the hospital had worn off hours ago. It had been tricky work, racing against the clock to get as much done before he was forced to stop periodically. It wouldn't do a lot of good to save the patient, only for him to go into shock from the pain and become comatose. Then they'd have a very expensive and impressive vegetable pierced together from torn and ripped body parts. No, they had to go slow and steady-and work through all that noise. The doctor was more than happy when his patient's voice finally gave out from the screaming.
Because of that, Fell didn't expect a verbal answer to his question: "Can you hear me?"
The man's lips moved-yes.
Fell leaned closer. "Can you see me?"
Yes.
Fell smiled, leaning a forearm against the operating table, leveling his face with his patient's. He touched a damp lock of hair, wet with sweat, examining its color. "You know, I always wanted a son. If I had been so blessed, I think he might've been a bit like you." The doctor was not totally unaware. He saw the hate in his creation's eyes. He saw a simmering rage that would have to be watched. Controlled. Fell had just the device for that. He'd need to keep this one on a very tight leash if they were going to accomplish great things.
"Do you find me sadistic? You of all people should understand me best-the sacrifices that need to be made for greatness; pain and death is stone and motor to build temples to our glory." He ran a finger along the man's face. It came back red with blood from the nasty cut still open there. "Come, come, you know what I mean. They call you monster now, did you know that? They called me the same once. I, too, was cast out from my fellows for attempting to achieve what they could not-what they were afraid to. But we're not. You and I are a pair. Rejected by...idiots, too stupid to understand what we do or too arrogant to recognize our genius-recognize the future we can give to the world. Free of chains, of weakness and helplessness. Blood is such a small price to pay for freedom. We will show them.
"No, I am not sadistic. What you see now is me at my most generous. I've given you just what you've wanted-I've made you more than what you were. Let those false gods sneer at you now-let them fall beneath your heel. Smile, my son: you have been reborn.
"Now, arise, Lazarus."