Byte by byte he programmed them with matrices of information. Daily he would project his thoughts to them, his aspirations for them, his dreams of a world he, with their help, would control.When he was ready, he would try them and gauge their reaction in living tissue. He had taken the first step. The next step was simple and they did not disappoint. He created a replica of a human heart, introduced them to its workings, and showed them the pathways to the brain and they were ready. They were ready for the next step.
With laser-scalpel in hand he exposed the still beating heart of the sleeping form before him, injected his nanites, and watched the steady uninterrupted rhythmic pulsing. He reached out and stroked the glistening heart gently with a gloved finger then closed the flesh around it and she lived.
He was God. This was a new life form. It was his now, his. He watched the steady breathing of this first validation of his work. He would build a perfect race, perfect men and more importantly, perfect women. One by one he would add them to his cadre, and they would march to the step he intoned.
The girl on the table woke, stared wide-eyed, sat bolt upright, opened her mouth in a silent scream, and died. As the light fled her eyes, Chadak's dreams momentarily wavered. Failure. For a moment, he was a student again, groping for answers, and then the researcher in him took over.
He had to take the heart to recover his nanites and perform a minute autopsy and neural scan, and dispose of the remains. It would be a long night, a long, red night in the pristine clean white room.
Exhausted, he returned to his private dorm room and sat at his computer. He glanced over the monitor at the just awakening campus, stroked a beard where none existed, lowered his brows, and dictated the night's research to the waiting computer voice module while part of his mind pondered his next steps.
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