We1 made Delta-Sys into a cyborg.
He was injured; I think he lost an arm and both legs. But he still had his head and torso, and so we gave him a robot body. We were trying to be all 18th-century about it too, for some reason. There was even a nurse that had been hired to make sure we didn't use any modern medical techniques. We were having fun operating on him - there was no doctor, it was just us. We'd opened him up a few times already to mess around. It was kind of fun. I was always helping, though, giving him the anaesthetic and suturing him up afterwards. I never got to be the one in charge, which kind of pissed me off, because what do these guys know about making somebody into a cyborg?
One day I got an idea for something to do. I wanted to go in and do something in his chest - I forget what. I opened him up and started separating muscle from organs. I found the part that, if he were a chicken, we would call the tenderloin. I was about to throw out a big glob of stuff that I found in his chest. It was still attached to him, though, and as I was about to cut it I noticed some blood vessels that I suppose I should take care of, lest he bleed to death. I followed them up into the glob of guts I was holding, and then I realized what it was I had almost cut out: his heart. That would have been bad. So I decided to just put it back in and forget about this silly surgery idea. (Did I mention I was doing it alone?) I stuffed it back inside and started looking on the floor for some thread to suture him up with.
About that time everybody came in - a bunch of our friends and also the nurse that had been hired both to help take care of sick people and to make sure that when we did anything medical it was in keeping with 18th century practices. So there I was with him on the table (actually my bed), wide open, and me looking around for a suitable needle and thread to sew him back up. I found several needles and several spools of thread, but none were exactly what I wanted. Most of the needles were more like awls.
And then he woke up. I forgot that he could actually feel his body; most of him was a robot, but not all. He was just lying there until I noticed that his eyes were open and he was looking at me. "Would you mind giving me some more anaesthetic?" I was nervous and had trouble getting all of the blue fluid into the syringe (did I mention that we weren't bothering to measure the dose?) and tried to remember where and how I had injected it yesterday. I made a decision and was about to inject it—"Um, do we have to do this in my arm?" Oh, right. In the ass.
He was back asleep and his chest was still mostly open. I had sewn a very few stitches but they were too far apart. Fortunately the nurse stepped in. "Since this is the third time we've cut him in this spot, and it's a really large cut, you'll want to master it." Master it? Apparently that had something to do with sewing rope or cloth alongside the incision. She showed me a skein of thick string with some blood stains on it, trying to explain the way she'd done it in the past. Eventually she gave up on trying to explain it to me, and just started looking around my room for cloth. Eventually she found a long scarf. It didn't belong to me, though. "Look, do you have something else, and then we'll just make a smock out of this one?" I didn't understand. I left to go find the person that the scarf belonged to.
Hopefully tomorrow we'd be able to go back to filming the movie we were all in.
Myself and some of my friends