itch, then to hurt, pinpricks of pain in his skin.
The whine of a device sounded in his ear. Streaks of color flashed behind his eyelids, smears of green, red, blue. He heard a mechanical voice speaking, the sound dulled, as if spoken from far away or blocked by something.
“His vital signs are normal. He is becoming conscious.”
“Can he hear us?” said another voice.
“I do not know. Possibly.”
“What will he know?”
He heard the slow bubbling of liquid. He had never noticed it before.
“All of the Iterations are implanted with basic knowledge roughly equivalent to that of a human adolescent. Otherwise they would be difficult to deal with when they awakened. It is easily overwritten by the Rakatan mindspear.”
“Very good.”
His body awoke fully to sensation, and he became aware of himself. He was a man. Restraints held his arms and legs immobile. Something was in his mouth—a tube. Adhesive strips kept his eyes closed. He tested his strength against the restraints. There was no give in them.
“Let’s get him out,” said the voice.
“Of course.”
The liquid in which he floated began to drain, gurgling away into some hole near his feet. He felt vulnerable as the level of the liquid decreased, exposing first his head, then his chest, his legs. He imagined it was like being born, moving from warm and safe to cold and exposed. It felt strange to have his feet on the ground, supporting his weight. He was naked, shivering.
Metallic latches released, a hiss sounded, and he heard a hatch or door open right before him. A blast of cold air goose-pimpled his wet skin.
He opened his mouth to speak but gagged on the tube. Something took hold of it.
“Do not resist,” said a mechanical voice, a medical droid.
He didn’t, and the droid pulled the tube from his body. It went all the way to his stomach, and he felt as if the droid was disemboweling him as it pulled the tube up through his esophagus. The moment it cleared his lips he coughed out a bit of liquid and gasped.
The intake of air felt raw on his throat. His lungs burned. The smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils. He tried to speak, but his lips and tongue felt thick, his vocal cords tight. He managed only a grunt.
“You will be able to speak soon,” said a soft, sibilant voice. “You have never used your vocal cords before, or your lungs. Try to remain calm.”
He was still restrained, his eyes still sealed shut. He felt vulnerable.
“You are restrained for your own protection,” said the soft voice. “The implantation process is painful. I don’t want you to damage yourself.”
The word “painful” stuck in his mind. He squirmed against the restraints, but they held him fast.
“You may go, One-Bee-Seven,” said the voice.
“Yes, Master Nyss,” replied the droid.
He heard the whirring servos of a departing droid, the whisk of a door that opened and then closed.
He was alone with Nyss, who had promised him pain. His heart was racing. Despite the cold, he was sweating, clammy. The smell of his own stink filled his nostrils. His breath was coming fast.
“You are afraid,” said the voice. “There is nothing to fear. You won’t remember the pain.”
A hand closed on his jaw and he winced in anticipation of a blow. But a blow did not come. Instead he felt something warm and sharp pressed against his temple. He tried to turn his head away but could not. He grunted, terrified; tried to blink open his eyes against the adhesive but failed.
He felt a brief prick of pain, then pressure in his temple. A trickle of blood, warm like the fluid in which he’d lived for so long, wound down the side of his face. There really was no pain—
Then a shooting stab of agony exploded in his head. He shrieked, a prolonged, bestial wail that went on and on but did nothing to expiate the pain. The agony intensified, spreading from his temple to the rest of his head until it felt as if his skull were filled with molten metal that would burn forever.
His entire body was as rigid as a rail, every muscle contracted. He could not stop screaming. He wanted to cut off his own head, to rip it from his neck and murder himself to end the unending, unendurable pain.
But his hands were bound and he could not move.
There was nothing left to him but to scream and scream and scream.
Horror matched pain when he felt something squirming inside the scalding