This is the inside of one of the tank's artificial minds. In here, Lynn can tell that is is meant to be more than just the cheap stuff the US military invests in...whether that be via Wayne Enterprises or Queen Consolidated...
It's like being inside someone's nervous system. Except, humans don't have tubes through which their neural lines run...
As her captors specified, there are artificial neurons and synapses in here. Lynn's got to figure out which is which, and connect them to her captors' preference.
Lynn tries to touch one. It shocks her-as Jefferson does, sometimes, when she's...more intimately flirting with him. Now she'll probably never see him again. She can't say these artificial nerve cells are an assuring substitute for Jefferson.
But then, it's not like the original Jefferson would suffice. Lynn still loves Jefferson; it's Black Lightning she can't get used to.
At great risk to herself, Lynn touches one of the other artificial nerve cells. It doesn't shock her. She sighs. Now she knows which ones are the neurons, and which are the synapses.
She hesitates. It seems the cell she's just touched is stuck to her. She tries to shake it off. It won't let go. Crap; Lynn's excited it. She can't imagine why. It's not like she's pretty. Pretty enough to attract Nazis and Jefferson, of course; but since when are they not the only ones?
Lynn tries to do it herself for a while. She can't. She calls for help. She's not expecting the help she gets.
An electric spider descends into the tube with her. It wears a device on its head. The device bears a swastika. Somehow, the spider lacks the power to overload the mind-control nano-gadget and set himself free.
He crawls down the tube, to where Lynn's struggling. She screams when she sees him. To him, she's like a fly. And spiders, of course, EAT flies.
The spider stands high over Lynn, on all eight legs, and engages its stinger. Lynn takes a huge breath, and screams at the top of her lungs.
The spider stabs the artificial neuron, and overloads it. The neuron falls off Lynn, and rolls back into the spot where Lynn found it, apparently unconscious.
"Now you know which ones to avoid," a recorded voice says to her, "Mis."
"Who said that?!"
The spider taps its own head with its foreleg. He winks half of his many eyes.
"Some of these eyes are prosthetics," Sprostranov tells her. "I suppose I need not tell you what they do."
"That's," Lynn says, straightening her white panties and stammering, "inhumane...within inhumane. I'm starting to perceive that Nazism runs a lot deeper than just misinformation."
"Information distracts, Mis. The ego is bottomless. And in this case, it has an unavoidable sweet tooth for machinery. It can be controlled; nature cannot."
"So, you're at war with nature?"
Sprostranov yawns. "You accuse me of misinformation, and yet, it seems I'm not the only one who can't process information flexibly. You and I are not much different, Mis. Under more social circumstances, I'd be more embarrassed to admit it."
"Why don't you take me to your turtle club? I'll scream it so loud..."
"You're a mite, Mis. The only being who takes you seriously is this electric spider. And to think the only thing that's keeping him from eating you is my control over him. So if I were you, I'd learn to walk a finer line in an Indo-Aryan man's senses' presence."
"And why's that? You're sure not walking a line that I can tell!"
"How do you think I erected all of this machinery? Not by hardening my own cock." Again, the spider winks its prosthetic eyes. "That's what I have you for...along with connecting my arsenal's comm lines, of course."
With that, the spider takes his leave. Lynn can't help but stare at his huge abdomen/butt until he ascends through a hole, and vanishes, leaving her down there.
On the upside, Lynn now knows what not to do with the artificial neurons. On the downside, she's got a long way to go before her captors' latest dream comes true.
But of course, they're Nazis. They may or may not realize it, but they'll never stop wanting new things for their race...or for THEMSELVES, more like it.