The Conductor

Two months of endless research.
Three weeks of collecting the needed materials – many who have died from physical wounds or illnesses; many who would not be known or missed.

Limbs from different bodies lay out on the large wood table, soaking the surface with blood, along with a torso – a left arm still connected – and a head – a handsome face without any injury.

Vital organs preserved in jars.

The door is locked. The windows are covered.
The room is dimly lit by an oil lamp.

I washed my hands and grabbed the scalpel, hovering over the torso first.

Slice the skin in the middle, the sickly scent of blood quickly filling the air; pull apart the wound to reveal the lungs – healthy – and the heart – a sickly orange instead of a lively red.

Methodic removal before replacement.

Continue the length of the slice – stomach, intestines, everything else seems to be fine.

Sew the wound shut.

Observe the collection of limbs – an arm and two legs that seem to fit the torso.
Connect the nerves and joints. Sew the skin together.

Observe the head – blue eyes, slowly losing light; pink lips, color fading; tongue, teeth, nose, ears, all there; soft, pale skin; soft, brown hair, still healthy.

His death must have been recent.

Connect the nerves, mend the spinal cord connection.
Sew the skin together.

A zinc and copper battery – connect the wires to the head and the anus.
A large charge was administered as I watched the body with anticipation.

Twitching limbs, spastic movements increasing over time.
Fingers curled into a fist as he arched his back off of the table.

I stopped the charged and quickly made my way over to the body.

There wasn’t any movement.
No breathing.
No pulse.

I…have failed.

My hands, covered in blood and other bodily fluids, began to tremble.
I felt sick to my stomach.

“Please…! Please come to life! I do not want to be alone anymore! I cannot take being alone anymore!”

I dropped down to my knees with tears in my eyes, feeling the bile start to rise in my stomach.

I heard a small exhale, causing my head to snap up at the source.

A hand moved. A knee bent up.

I slowly stood up, using my sleeve to wipe the tears away.

Chest rising and falling at a slow rate.
Blue eyes open and slowing moving, staring at the surroundings with confusion.

I felt weak in the knees, but managed to hold myself up using the edge of the table as I stared down at him.

I found myself smiling like an idiot.

No – like a madman.

It worked…! It worked!
Thirteen hours of non-stop labor and it worked!

The eyes met mine, causing my smile to grow wider.

“Perhaps we should give you an identity.”
I placed a hand on his cheek, gently brushing it with my thumb.

“Welcome back to life…Tyler.”