Chapter 1- Rebirth
NSO RESEARCH FACILITY – LOCATION UNKNOWN 17:53 / 2046
The surgical servitor moved precisely and quickly in the hands of the surgeon, halogen bulbs sending shards of light glinting from the arsenal of needles on displau. Laying deep within the subterranean levels of its parent research facility the nanotech special operations or NSO officially didn't exist. Unfortunately for Lynton Dean, strapped prone to the operating table, that meant he officially no longer existed either.
The need for escape heightened in his mind. Lynton searched the room for something he might have missed earlier, some miraculous key to freedom. Metal cuffs dug painfully into his wrists as he thrashed as much as the solid braces would allow. Large metal straps tightened over his chest in response to the movement, forcing the air from Lynton's lungs. "Calm down Mr Dean" Ordered the surgeon, his facemask making him appear like some macabre ventriloquist. "The nanites need minimal excitation during the initial phases. Neither of us would like the effects should their dispersion be disrupted".
The larger of the servitors emitted a low hum as one of the multitude of arms extended downwards, presenting a thick steel needle to Lynton's forehead. He shifted his eyes back to the surgeon, trying his best to cough out the tightly balled gag from his mouth. The surgeon lent over to the servitor and started typing onto its visual display before pressing a small button on the operating arm. The arm responded immediately, swinging down to Lynton's neck just outside his field of vision. Feeling a sharp pinch he bent his body trying to get a better look but to no avail. "Just a mild relaxant Mr Dean, we wouldn't want to miss would we", He had a feeling the surgeon was smiling.
Lynton knew with utter certainty this was the last time he would truly be himself. Nano-technology was still theoretical to public knowledge and even then Layton had only heard the term in passing, but he sensed enough about the machine hanging over him to grasp its malevolent intent. The needle inches from his forehead needed no further explanation. Something was going to happen, and it wasn't going to be good.
Awakened back to life now the arm holding the larger needle moved tenuously closer to Linton's skin, hairs standing at attention for the arrival of this stainless harbringer. Reaching its unsaid destination, the arm paused while the needle retracted marginally back into its sheath. Two, three more times it moved before only the very tip of the needle protruded from its cage. Lynton permitted himself one last look into the eyes of the surgeon. The promise of pain and likely death was now in the hands of the servitor he knew. But some part of him yearned for the small warmth of human compassion.
Pouncing from its sheath the needle lanced into Lynton's forehead. Hot coals of pain exploded in his skull as the needle burrowed deeper and deeper through his being. Pumped intravenously with adrenaline from the second servitor his mind grasped at. Glimpses of images flashed in front of him; the surgeon, the needle. In a moment of lucidity Lynton wondered what was pulsing through the feeding tubes into the arm of the servitor. It was to be thankfully brief as a surge of pain overcame even his adrenaline-raddled system and the kind darkness claimed him.