My warmth has been swallowed by the cold.

I am being held now, in a small room that lies in an offshoot from the main tent. It is a medical room, and I lay strapped to a table. My captors hold no illusions on whether or not these straps can hold me. Their weapons never leave my head. Motion will result in my destruction. Should I move anyway, and let the end come not gently but in a roar of violent heat?

There were shouts, I think, sometime earlier. My hearing is muffled by my thoughts, moving too quickly for me to listen to anything else. I have discovered much about my self in these last few moments, but I don't believe these discoveries will serve me now.

Shouts of protest, only one voice above the rest. I feel strange. I feel stupid, ungainly. I feel betrayed not by those around me but by myself. To think that I would be accepted so easily, to be taken into their culture. This warmth is not for me, cannot be held by things of metal. My thoughts are sour in some way. Bitter.

This is new.

I gladly sink into this cold stupor as it shields me, and wraps me in a freezing layer. For once I am glad to delve into the machine part of me, the part which finds no terror in a situation, but only facts. Measurements. Precise and timed, there is no panic in these processes. My feelings fade. I feel harder somehow, stronger. Detached.

Sudden bright lights momentarily blind me as they are moved over my face. Dark heads with no faces bend in and out of view, quickly.

"That's as tight as it will go. If this thing so much as twitches, light it up."

"This is a bad idea. You can't expect it to lie there and let you screw around with it."

"We also have no way of disabling it short of destroying it, we've never seen anything like this. Marcus said they already shot it up with EMP. It hasn't moved in two hours and this is the best chance we've got."

Yes, the EMP blasts. In fact they had no effect, but I felt showing resistance could result in termination rather than being temporarily disabled. Now I feel that perhaps it doesn't matter. I have seen it written that death is a small thing, and it is life that is truly terrifying. At the time I couldn't understand that.

Now I do.

"Hold that weapon steady. Okay remember people, slow and easy. Try not to break this thing."

I could tell them what little I know of my inner workings if they should care to ask.

"Starting with right index finger, incision along the y axis."

A sharp pain signals from my finger before it slowly dulls into nothing.

"Mark as some sort of unidentified alloy. Bluish in color. Some sort of ligament structure can be seen. Absolutely no similarities to any previous Terminator models except in basic skeletal formation. This is amazing stuff."

Again the pain, this time all along my arm. The man's next words are lost to me as the pain takes longer to cease, and my focus is diverted. The lights no longer blind me as my eyes have adjusted, but the white mask conceals the identity of my torturer.

Time blurs as more and more cuts are made on me. I reactivated my epidermal repair program earlier, the charade no longer necessary and I can already feel the skin knitting back to its former state. The feeling is a relief next to the sharp slice of the scapel. I feel slick all over now, and I realize that I am covered in blood. This does not deter the surgeon.

"Two inch x incision along the clavicle."

A sudden ripping pain explodes through me as my skin is peeled off my face.

"Incredible. Completely realistic skull structure, including muscle formation and even inconsistencies of the cranium. Eyeballs appear to actually be organic."

The pain is unbelievable. I wish I possessed the ability to shut down my nervous system on an area basis, but I can do nothing.

"Working around area of optical lobe now. The skull is one solid piece, no releases to be seen."

It is almost a relief now to be skinless on my face, despite the terrible sensation still remaining around the bottom of my neck where the ripped skin remains, screaming for its missing part. I feel a jolt around the top of my head and it is pushed f010rcefully int0 the table.

"Whatever this stuff is, I can't cut it. I'm going through the optical openings."

I can no lon0010ger see, but surpris1ngly there is no pain 1010as my eyeballs are p1ucked from their s0ckets.

"Jesus Christ. There's an actual brain in here!"

D1sc0mfitting-

"Large cavity, no fluids but some sort of actual brain matter. Inserting a small light and probe-"

S0me s0rt of proceedure010-

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