This August's weather was quite the opposite of a child's dream. Almost every day of it consisted of everlasting rains and thunderstorms. Beaches and seaside hills, usually crowded with people, looked like abandoned deserts. However, Theocrit wasn't particularly unhappy with it. He worked as a lifeguard at a sea resort, so his days were mostly peaceful and he could indulge in his hobbies.
One day, when Theocrit was sitting in his armchair, relaxing after another boring day at work, his doorbell rang. Quite surprised, he went up to the door and opened it carefully. Before him appeared a tall man dressed in rather formal attire.
"Good morning. I was ordered to get you to your brother's house. Please put on some clothes and come to my car. It is an extremely urgent matter" spoke the man, showing Theocrit an identity card with a governmental stamp for a quick moment.
Theocrit's confusion only grew. He hadn't contacted his brother in a long time, so he couldn't imagine why the brother would need him. He agreed nonetheless, slightly nodding his head. Without saying a word, he put on some clothes and rushed to the man's car. He decided not to ask any questions – the man didn't look like he would provide any answers and Theocrit wanted to avoid making any verbal contact with him. The man seemed frightening. There was something about him that made him seem trustworthy, though. Maybe it was the suit, maybe the ID card or maybe the unbelievability of the situation was what made it believable.
After driving through several highways, they finally arrived in a small village, near a poor-looking farmhouse. The car stopped and silence fell upon them for a moment.
"We're here" said the man, moving his hand as if he was inviting Theocrit to open the door and get outside.
"I know" lied Theocrit to prevent the man from thinking that he's lost contact with his brother.
The area around the house was surrounded with black and yellow warning tape and there were police vehicles stationed around the farm. As Theocrit saw them, he started trying to remember anything about his brother. Was he really the type of person to commit a crime? A crime so serious that the police needed to call him in? Surely he had some deviations, but he'd never hurt anybody. He believed strongly in humanity and treated every human being as a treasure.
As Theocrit with his driver walked towards the house, a policeman noticed them.
"Oh, I see you brought the man. Good. I will call you if I need you ever again." The policeman addressed the driver. "And for you… Theocrit, isn't it?" Theocrit nodded, afraid of what the policeman could tell him. "Just… Come inside and see for yourself."
The entrance to the house led to a rather big sitting room. On the wall was a TV set connected to multiple gaming consoles and a rack with heaps of comic books. In the middle of the room was an armchair with a corpse laying on it. After some time, Theocrit recognized it to be his brother's.
"What happened to him?" he asked in shock. "When did it happen?"
"The corpse seems fresh, but the battery of his bionic eyes and ears has run out, which means that he's been dead at least a month. How the corpse's managed not to rot is a mystery. No one has reported the death, so our investigation is quite complicated."
Theocrit made a move towards the corpse and, not seeing any protest from the police man, touched its arms. They were cold and stiff. The stiffness intrigued him, so he started pressing on different parts of the hand. Then he went on to the other hand and he found the same result – inhuman stiffness.
"Has nobody noticed it?" he cried.
"Whatever you're talking about, no sir. We haven't examined the body thoroughly yet."
Theocrit took a pocket knife out of his jacket and cut the skin on the corpse's left hand. To everybody's horror, dense white liquid slowly poured out. Theocrit smiled triumphantly.
"Do you see it? That's what I was talking about. It was an implant; both his arms were artificially created implants. I know a fake arm when I see one. He must have lost his hands in an accident. We have a friend working in an implant clinic, one of the best ones in the whole world. If he's had it done in any national clinic, it was there."
"Then you shall go there and inquire about this. If you find something, phone me" commanded the policeman, writing his phone number down on a piece of paper.
Theocrit took the bus back to his city and rushed into the clinic. The doctor he knew was standing near the entrance, so they immediately noticed each other.
"Ah, my good friend Theocrit! What brings you here?" the doctor exploded with happiness.
"Very serious matters, my friend. My brother died. I'm here to find out if you performed any transplantation on him"
"I'm so sorry to hear that" the doctor lowered his voice as if he tried to sound downcast. "What was his first name again?"
"Theseus."
The doctor searched the archives and after a while replied that they indeed had a patient with a matching name, but the operation seemed to be a very peculiar case, since every one of his limbs was replaced with an artificial implant. Theocrit called the policeman on the phone, asking him to check if the corpse's legs were filled with the same gel they found in the arms. He heard a short gasp and that was more than enough to confirm the doctor's words. He started wondering, what could happen to the poor Theseus, for it had to be a disaster if he lost all of his natural limbs in the process. After a while, he noticed that he was still on the phone with the policeman, so he asked him to inquire Theseus' neighbors about any accidents that he may have had, ending the conversation. He decided to not be idle himself and ask family friends if they knew anything about his brother's situation.
After a while of extensive research with no results, Theocrit decided to give up. He wrote a post in which he included his brother's full name, the circumstances of his death and a request to contact him on the circumstance of having any knowledge of his brother, but he didn't expect an answer. When the policeman called him to tell him about the results of the investigation, he learned that, even though the village Theseus lived in was small and everyone there was friends, no one had been interested in the life of his brother nor had even known him.
After some time came in the autopsy report. It was clear that its writers were in shock and disbelief. It stated that the crew found out that there was metal in Theseus' lungs. After some more investigation though, they found out that those pieces of metal were carefully attached to his body. In fact, his lungs appeared to be made out of metal.
Theocrit was quite surprised by this information, so he rushed to the police station in which his brother's case was investigated. As soon as he walked in, he heard a cascade of female voices.
"Sir, forensics confirms that Theseus had an artificial liver"
"Sir, the forensics report says that Theseus had artificial kidneys"
"Sir, forensics says he had artificial pancreas transplants"
"Sir, forensics has researched his face, and it is purely artificial"
Suddenly, Theocrit got a notification on his phone. It was a private message replying to his post. It read:
"Dear mister Theocrit. I am very sorry for your loss. I had the honor to meet Theseus in person and make good friends with him. He even agreed to be in the experimental group of patients to have a brain transplant. He was a good guy. If you need me, message me back. Also, when will this man have a funeral?"
"There is no man to be buried" whispered Theocrit "Theseus has died long ago."