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Frankenstein 2.0

“Doctor, are we ready?”

Vincent Frankenstein locked his eyes on Ulrick. “Should we do this?”

“This is your life’s work, of course we should. It’s cost you your family’s fortune.”

Vincent looked down at the still body. He looked in such peace. “Am I wrong to question?”

“No. It’s natural for you to have doubts. What we are about to do is monumental. It will redefine science. We’re about to create life.”

“But are we?” muttered the doctor. “We have all the components, but does that make life?”

“Sir, the cadaver is perfect. To create something like that from a single strand of DNA is nothing less than a miracle. He’s your great great grandfather. Look at him. He looks exactly like his portrait.”

Vincent stepped away from the table. He sunk his face into the palms of his hands.

“Why are we even having this conversation?” asked Ulrick. “We should have spoken about this ten years ago.”

“We did, but back then I was driven by the verve of youth, the same excitement that propelled my ancestor. I’m older now.”

“And wiser,” added Ulrick.

“Victor made mistakes…”

“You have learned from those mistakes. As he will learn from you. What will he make of this world? What will such a genius be capable of?”

“A genius?” queried Vincent. “His work destroyed him.”

“And this is his second chance. The neural model I have created from his journals is the most advanced of its kind. Every aspect of his character is in there, every element of his knowledge, his experiences, his work.”

“His work destroyed him,” repeated Vincent.

“Is that what concerns you? Do you think the same thing will happen to you? We’ve gone through this. We’ve stressed every hypothesis. Victor already lives in our computers. We’ve had conversations with him.”

“Conversations? We’ve exchanged a few words.”

“He passed all of our tests.”

“Tests we wanted him to pass.”

“I don’t understand.”

Vincent stepped around the table. "Seek happiness in tranquillity and avoid ambition." He looked across the body at his associate. “Who but a man can overreach his own grasp?”

“This is our moment, Vincent. Until now mankind has only found ways to end life. We are about to create it and all that is good. We’ve come too far to turn away now.”

Vincent closed his eyes, his internal turmoil evident in the twitches that took hold of his face. He rocked his head back and audibly exhaled through his nostrils. “Is the generator charged?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Drain the suspension fluid.”

Ulrick smiled, rocked his head forward in a nod to himself and moved to the foot of the body. He swept his fingers across a large monitor screen to light it up and then tapped in some commands. Bright blue liquid started to drain from the clear PVC tubing connected at intervals along the length of the body.

“Animate the blood,” commanded Victor.  

Again Ulrick tapped instructions into the screen. He watched as the level on a digital indicator rose. “We’re at full, Doctor”.

“Okay, Ulrick. Start the transfusion.”

Ulrick smiled and thrust his finger at the screen. Both men watched as the deep red blood rose in the PVC tubing. As the blood entered the body, Victor looked across at his assistant. Neither man spoke, the only communication the slightest nod of assurance from Ulrick.

“Transfusion complete,” said Ulrick.

“Start the heart,” replied Victor.

“Shocking, three, two, one.”

The body lurched up from its resting position.

“Anything?” asked Victor.

“No.”

“Try again.”

Again the body bounced up from the table.

“Nothing, sir,” said Ulrick. “Only the echo of the shock.”

“Once more.”

Again the body convulsed with energy before settling to still.    

“Why is this not working?” growled Vincent, his brow creased with confusion. He dragged up his shirt sleeves and set to work pumping on the body’s chest. He looked up to Ulrick. “We need to get some air into the lungs,” he said.

Ulrick hurried from his station, grabbing an oxygen bottle, which he dragged to the head of the corpse. He placed a mask over the mouth and twisted the tap to release the gas. Looking in Ulrick’s direction, Victor continued to pump the chest. The two men exchanged despairing glances.

Victor stepped back. “No!” he screamed before driving the heel of his first into the body’s chest. “Come on!” he shouted, again t******* down on the heart.

“Sir, sir, sir,” said Ulrick, directing the doctor’s attention to the monitor. “There’s a pulse.” Ulrick fixed the oxygen masked to the head and then hurried back to the computer screen. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”

The doctor joined him on his shoulder. “Brain activity?” he asked.

“No. Wait. Yes. It’s just background, but there’s something.

Open-mouthed, Vincent dragged his fingers through his hair. “Start the neural transfer,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” whispered Ulrick, his mouth dry with amazement. Vigorously, he tapped commands into the monitor. “Neural upload commenced.”

He stepped back and rested his hands on his hips. The two men looked at each other.

“It’s working,” said Vincent; he then moved back to the body. “He lives,” he gasped.

“And I am the creator of man. I have undertaken the work of a god. I am Prometheus. I will endure my trial and I will suffer the punishment that will surely come.”

Ulrick moved behind him and back to the head of the body. He hovered his hand over the oxygen mask. Vincent nodded for him to remove it. As the oxygen in his lungs was replaced with air Victor coughed. His eyes flicked open, his distress was evident.

“It’s okay,” reassured Vincent. “Everything is fine. You just need some time to acclimatise.”

Victor arched his back in an attempt to raise himself from the table. Hurrying to his assistance Vincent and Ulrick helped him to sit up. He sat bewildered, his eyes flicking around the room. “What have you done?” he croaked. “No! No! No!” he screamed.

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