By Erin Artfitch
With shaking fingers, Vik attached the last wire to the prosthetic arm’s microprocessor. “The patient is now fully operational.”
His voice sounded deceptively calm, belying his frantically pounding heart.
Behind him, Igor clapped. “It’s ready?”
“He,” Vik corrected, leveling a glare at the technician. “Bring me the defibrillator.”
Above, raindrops pounded against the skylight. Lightning boomed, and the overhead lights flickered. Vik’s breath hitched. If the power failed—
The doctor stepped back to survey his subject. The young man was secured to an upright operating table. A steel bicep gleamed against the lights, and a matching foot peeked from the hem of his gray sweatpants. While the man’s human eye remained closed, its bionic counterpart—equipped with a state-of-the-art graphics processor—stared straight ahead.
His patient’s chest was bare, giving Vik an unobscured view of the exposed pericardial cavity still cold from cryostorage. Two hydraulic pumps protruded from the right chamber, ready to send oil into the man’s robotic extremities at Vik’s command.
His life’s work—the perfect marriage of machine and man.
Vik replaced the acrylic housing that covered the pericardial cavity just as Igor stumbled forward with the defibrillator. He reached for the subject.
“Idiot!” Vik slapped Igor’s hands away. “He isn’t a car battery!”
Igor dropped his gaze. “Sorry, Doctor.”
Vik let out a shuddering breath before he carefully attached the electrodes to the patient’s abdomen.
“Jealous, short-sighted fools,” he muttered as he switched the defibrillator on. He glanced at Igor, who wisely stepped back. “They will beg for my forgiveness. Plead to be a part of my work. I will make the colonization of Mars look menial in comparison.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
They had called his work insane—unethical—but his cyborgs composed of machine and deceased human tissue would revolutionize the medical world. He would bring the dead back to life. He, Doctor Viktor Frankenstein, would conquer death.
Yet, if he was honest, recognition and wealth drove only a fraction of his motivations.
“The defibrillator is charged, Doctor.”
Vik leaned forward and cupped the subject’s cheek, finally allowing himself to acknowledge the man as he once was before death. Adam.
The accident had melted away half of his son’s face and obliterated his left limbs. Shrapnel had destroyed his heart. However, Adam’s brilliant brain—and 43 percent of his muscle tissue and nine organ systems—had remained intact.
The Board had criticized Vik for keeping Adam on ice. But then, that same Board had unknowingly provided Vik with the necessary heart to complete this project.
The hospital didn’t need it, not like he did.
“Come back to me, Son,” he said, resting his forehead against Adam’s. The cool, hard flesh made him shiver. “Please.”
Behind him, Igor shifted.
Vik straightened. “Do it.”
The high whine of electricity filled his ears. His son’s body spasmed. Inside the artificial chest cavity, the heart began to pump. Amber hydraulic fluid flowed through the clear tubes leading to Adam’s prosthetic limbs. Blood filled his circulatory system, and his metal fingers twitched.
Vik gripped the operating table. “Yes!”
Adam sucked in a breath. His chest expanded as sterile air filled his lungs.
“He is alive!”
The right eyelid opened, and Adam’s brown eye scanned the room with laser precision.
Vik stood frozen, gripped by wonder, pride, and—most painfully—hope.
“Adam?” He stepped forward hesitantly. “Son?”
The cyborg’s mouth moved soundlessly as his neural implant frantically relearned speech patterns. “Son.” Adam repeated the word, though his voice held little resemblance to the man Vik remembered. It was cold and methodical. Eyes, devoid of any human depth, observed him. “I know you.”
Vik’s throat went dry. “Yes.”
“You are Dr. Viktor Frankenstein, bionic engineer.” The cyborg’s optical implant, barely visible to the naked eye, glowed. “You received your doctorate in Biomedical Engineering, summa cum laude, from the Swedish Royal Institute in 2101. Former spouse of Elizabeth Frankenstein.”
Data. Not recognition from a lifetime of memories.
“Father of Adam Frankenstein, deceased November 17, 21—”
“Shut up!”
Behind him, Igor cowered. The cyborg, however, tilted his head like a curious dog.
Vik’s eyes prickled. He should be happy. He should be thrilled that his work had taken a brilliant leap forward. Yet, acute disappointment twisted his gut. This thing was a scientific marvel, but nothing more. It was not his son.
“My biological sensors indicate we share genetic material,” the cyborg stated, as if reading Vik’s mind. “You are…” The cyborg’s hollow voice paused. “Father.”
Vik recoiled, knocking over a tray of medical instruments. “You’re not my son.”
And it was true. This was a demented reflection of Adam. A hideous reminder that, while he could bring his son’s flesh back to life, the thing that made Adam him was gone forever.
Vik collapsed onto the tiled floor.
Blast it, he was a fool. What had he been thinking, using his own son’s cadaver for this experiment? Desperation choked the air from his lungs. He needed to start fresh. With a new subject. New parameters.
Vik gripped the scalpel and eyed the cyborg’s heart cavity where life-giving blood and oil pulsed. He lunged.
A metallic hand closed around his wrist before Vik registered movement. The cyborg stared at the scalpel before lifting his gaze to Vik.
The air between them crackled.
“You created me…” A restraint snapped like a taut rubber band. The cyborg’s leg was now free too. “Only to destroy me?”
His features pinched, and for a heartbeat, Vik thought he saw Adam’s hurt and anger. Then Vik was flying, hurled by the strength of ten men, across the room. His head struck the hard cinder block wall, and as he plunged into darkness, a single thought solidified.
What have I done?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
What, indeed? Interesting setup.
At the beginning, it almost seemed like a version of Mel Brooks’ comedy “Young Frankenstein.” Loved the line, “He isn’t a car battery!” Then it took a turn more like Mary Shelley’s version. Sad and heartbreaking. Great story!
Whoa. Great story and great twist.
Lots of wonderful sensory and action writing! I was definitely feeling like I was experiencing the story while reading! And I love the Frankenstein story being projected into a future setting choice. Thank you so much for sharing!
Love this futuristic version of Shelley’s characters!
Thank you, everyone! I’m glad you enjoyed it!
This was excellent! Quite frankly, I think I like it better than the original (though I wouldn’t say as much to Mary Shelley’s face . . .)
AWESOME RETELLING!!
Really cool.