Dream Developments - Part Four

"There we go" Kimberly coos, the blonde speaking to me from the darkness beyond my closed and desperately sleepy eyes. "Awwww, looks like someone was ready for their nap. We usually have to wait a little longer for this" comes a soft and soothing whisper, Kimberly lowering her voice as I begin to drift off to sleep.

"I just checked your new address. It looks like you'll be housed in one of the nicer seaside apartments by the docks, the views are pretty great up there during a storm.

I open my mouth to say something to the voice coming from the inky blackness beyond my eyelids, though I only manage to let out a gurgling yawn as I let the cup of water tumble to the floor.

I hear a faint metallic click come from beneath me, the sound resonating three more times as I feel something cool press against my wrists. Despite all this I simply find myself unable to panic, my state of mind growing more focused in the blissful sleep awaiting it than anything else.

As I slowly dredge myself up from my blissful sleep my ears are met with the sounds of electronic beeping and the hum of heavy machinery. However, the loud noises surrounding me don't even make me flinch as I find myself practically floating on a blissful numbing cloud.

As my eyes begin to flutter open I hear a gasp from beside me, the shrill worried voice of a nearby woman quickly calling out.

"Dr. Matthew! This one's waking up!" She cries, her squeaky chipmunk-like voice burrowing inside my skull.

"Is he secured?" Comes a calmer and more mature voice from right behind me, a sense of shock growing inside me as I realize I never even noticed the gravelly voices gentleman.

"Yes sir" the woman remarks, her voice still shaking slightly. "And the anesthesia still seems to be working" she goes on to explain, shuffling around in front of me.

As my eyes flutter open I watch as a rather skeletal and heavily tanned woman somewhere in her thirties press her boney knuckles into my sternum. My eyes shoot wide open as my chest fails to yield to her, the bones beneath crackling as the skin begins to grow red. Yet I feel almost nothing, a slight amount of pressure at most.

Her blue eyes dart up to my own, her expression hard to read beneath the surgical mask. The beeping beside me grows faster and faster, the panic slowly sinking in as I realize I had no idea who these people were or where I was.

"Doctor, his heart rate is..." The woman begins to explain, watching the monitor beside me with no small amount of worry in her eyes.

Suddenly, I feel like something snaps at the base of my skull, the sharp twang of a taut and tight object being cut. I feel my heartbeat immediately stutter, shifting to a perfectly steady rate as my breathing becomes equally as mechanical.

"No longer his issue" chuckles the man behind me, his voice shifting as he paces out from out of my sight line.

My eyes dart around frantically, the room at large snapping more firmly into view. It was like my body had been set to auto-pilot, while I could still feel myself breathing and my heart beating it was now entirely beyond my control.

Below me I notice a thick plastic mask covering my nose and mouth, the thick and heady chemical scent filling my nostrils and coating my tongue immediately telling me just why I couldn't feel much at all.

Forklifts drive slowly and carefully around what must be the warehouse, the operators wearing masks and scrubs like the rest of the staff as they hurry about. Large tanks of thick viscous liquid slosh around inside the glass canisters, the occasional large shadowy object being seen bobbing inside as well.

It was like half the hospital staff had collected in the warehouse, the severally lacking building outside making far more sense to my woozy and addled mind at this point. Men and women race around with vats and tanks of pale green liquid in hand, some with strange rounded objects floating inside. Others stand over tables or chairs, carefully performing procedures on some unseen person.

Before I can focus in much further a soft and jolly-looking man in his late fifties strolls around in front of me, his wide gray walrus mustache practically bristling with excitement. He hunches down towards me in an attempt to get to eye level, groaning in discomfort as his knees click and his back crackles under the weight of his robust physique.

"Looks like the patient didn't finish all his water" the older man chuckles, reaching out with a gloved hand as he pokes and prods at my chest. "Slender frame, good height, might even see if I can take this one for myself" he says with a laugh.

The nurse beside us glowers at the older man, the look burning into him as he quickly backtracks. "Only joking of course" he mutters, heaving himself back up with yet another groan. "Still, I should see old Jonesy about who I am meant to be getting once all is said and done."

"What are..." I croak, my words barely able to escape my mouth as I'm unable to control my own airflow.

The nurse jumps at the sound, dropping a small cup of colorful capsules to the floor. "Doctor he..." She cries, her eyes darting between myself and the old man. He merely waves her away though, reaching for a table to my left as he searches for something.

"I've only connected up the autonomic nervous system to the bypass, we still have a ways more to go dear" he explains, a grin spreading across his face. "I never get to talk to a patient mid-procedure like this, well not since we started using more than just local..." The man muses excitedly, grabbing something from the nearby table. "What do you think of my handiwork, clean and precise I think."

The doctor quickly produces a mirror, holding up the perfect reflective service for me to see myself. My eyes go wide, my face dropping in horror at the sight of my open skull atop my head. It was as though the entirety of my scalp had been removed, hair and all, just to leave the soft and supple lump of gray matter exposed.

A long series of cables reach up over the back of the chair, snaking their way in down between the bone of my skull and the fatty mass within to parts unknown. Resting between some of the wrinkled folds of my brain sit almost imperceptibly slender rods, either some kind of tool or monitoring device as far as I can tell.

Panic and terror quickly set in, however, my breathing and heart rate remain as steady and solid as a rock. It's an oddly sickening experience, the pure fear gripping me mentally while my body simply fails to react accordingly.

My head itself is held in place by a series of metal and leather bands, they themselves being fastened to the heavy and solid chair I had fallen asleep in. A slightly discolored face mask grips to my face, leaving redlines as it digs into the skin to form a tight seal.

I begin to scream, the lack of any control over my breath making it weak and feeble at best. The doctor quickly puts a stop to it though, reaching over to what looks like a thin metal rod with a wire trailing behind it before carefully sliding it into the pliant mass resting in my skull.

The sound of my pathetic screaming quickly ceases, my attempts to even speak merely resulting in weak and barely audible gasps.

"There we go, much better" sighs the Doctor, returning his attention to me. "Like I said, clean and precise."

"Don't worry Mr. Hughes" the old doctor chuckles, "We'll have you cleaned up and in your new..."

Before the man can finish another younger gentleman calls his name, walk past us with one of the small handheld tanks in hand.

"Good afternoon Dr. Matth..." The young man in his early twenties begins to chirp, only to be cut off by the good doctor.

"Jackson! Is that Mrs. or Ms. Peterson?" He asks, glaring down at the tank. My eyes soon follow his gaze, my stomach sinking as I look at the floating brain bobbing around in the tank.

It looks quite a bit worse for wear, the veiny mass riddled with needle-like spikes that sit just slightly out of the main body of the vital organ. Each stick appears to have a series of colored bands on the end, signifying something beyond my understanding.

"Uh... Ms. Peterson, sir" the young man chokes out, glancing down at a printed tag slapped to the back of the tank.

"Well then where are the four one fifties?" Dr. Matthews grunts, leaning in to poke and flick at the little colored needles. "Sexual enhancers, dopamine and serotonin trainers, you've got almost everything right but a woman in her eighties needs some level of synaptic rejuvenater boy. How old is her proposed body?" He asks, shaking his head at this point.

"Um... Forty?" The young man states nervously before quickly correcting himself, "No wait, forty one!"

"And you expected Ms. Peterson to live another half a lifetime over again without something to keep her mind fresh and clear? Add in some four one fifties and... Oh let's say a few eight two twenty-fives, a woman about to hit her mid-life crisis should lose a little impulse control" Dr. Matthews laughs, obviously having some experience with mid-life crises.

"Ye...yes sir" the young man bleats, racing away as he calls back "right away sir."

As the doctor returns his attention to me his eyes suddenly go wide. With a snap of his gloved fingers he turns to the nurse. "Julia my dear, could you get some four one fifties for Mr. Hughes here. Actually, better grab some eight two twenty-fives as well, a young thing like him should make some poorly thought out decisions once in a while" he says with a jolly chuckle, obviously enjoying his work a little too much.

The nurse looks at him for a moment before bidding, as though she was thinking of what to say. "Of course doctor, I'll add them to his regiment." Without another word she races off, leaving my sightline right as a large forklift begins to pull up.

My eyes lock to the large and heavy glass canisters resting on the forks, the massive item seeming like a lavish aquarium turned into something more sinister.

A ghostly pale older man floats naked in the tank, his white Frier Tuck receded hairline practically framing the gaping hole in his head. Where his brain should be is just empty bone, wires reaching inside to fill the void and keep in alive as he floats and bobs gently with the agitated goo. His flesh hangs from his bones, the aging older gentleman looking like half-man and half-prune as his wrinkled liver-spot-coated skin splays out around him in the tank

"Here we are" grunts the driver, bringing the tank to a halt just behind the doctor. He puts on the break before stepping out to great the once jolly now rather sour older gentleman.

"What is this?" Dr. Matthews grumbles, eying up the frail old man in the tank is confusion and disgust.

"Not one for pleasantries today huh?" The driver chuckles, adjusting his own surgical scrubs and mask beneath his hazel eyes. "Long day, I get it. I'm just dropping off Mr. Hughes new home...well...not that new I guess but..." The seemingly affable man in his late thirties muses, only to be cut off by the doctor.

"It certainly has been, and these screw-ups keep making it longer" he huffs, moving to rub the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand before stopping himself just shy of it.

The driver chuckles nervously, tapping the side of the tank. "Uh... What do ya mean doc, this is..."

"Mr. Stevens, I'm aware, I just sewed him into Mr. Douglas this morning" fumes Dr. Matthews, his voice straining to be polite. "That is meant to go to Ms. Donohue, not Mr. Hughes" he huffs, pointing vaguely off deeper to my right. "That lazy lay-about can enjoy her twilight years, she wasn't going to contribute much anyways. I mean really, does it look like I'm ready over here?! Take that...thing to Dr. Phillips to close up and bring me the right body next time or so help me you'll be waking up in something far worse than Mr. Stevens!" He continues, growing louder and louder as his splotchy pale face begins to burn a bright and angry red.

The driver doesn't even respond with words, simply hopping up into the forklift and driving off with perhaps a little too much haste for a busy warehouse.

I try to cry out, to say something or anything really as all I manage to utter is a gasping low grunt. Thankfully, it seems to get the doctor's attention as he goes wide-eyed at the sight of me.

"Oh, sorry you had to see that" he mutters, waddling his way around behind me once again. "Good help is hard to find and... Well, no one needed to see Mr. Stevens like that I'll tell you that much" he chuckles, returning to his jolly good humor once more.

I hear as he begins to manipulate something behind me, the sound of metal again bone setting my teeth on edge as I feel the scratching from inside my skull.

"Don't...worry..." Dr. Matthews mutters, his voice indicating deep concentration. I feel the scraping slide further and further down before it reaches the bottom of my skull, my vision shifting and feeling off as whatever it was nudged and jostled both valuable nerves and precious brain tissues.

As the doctor works I watch the now empty forklift return to the back wall as it begins to slowly roll past dozens of tanks. There is a slight tug at the base of my skull, my eyes watering for a moment as it feels like my spine is about to snap. The pressure soon eases off however, the doctor moving around in front of me once more as he too watches the forklift.

"Oh excellent!" He chirps, his eyes locked to the tank slowly rising off the ground. "Oh I've never had the chance to do this, you my boy get to be the first non-employee to have a sneak peek at their new self" he exclaims, obviously excited by the prospect.

My eyes dart about, be practically all I can move as I notice the nurse returning with a tray of the colored needles and a replacement for the dropped capsules and patches from before.

"Is this really necessary" she mutters softly, her eyes watching my own. "The poor thing is terrif..."

"Nonsense!" Dr. Matthews cries, waving his hand at the nurse dismissively. "I'm sure he'll love to see the new him, I mean who wouldn't who wouldn't want to see their new life up close and personal?"

The nurse just sighs as the doctor returns to his work, the odd tugging soon returning to the bottom of my brain stem. She begins to unload the tray, passing things to the doctor behind me as I'm met with the disturbing sounds of things squelching into my own gray matter.

There is a pregnant pause in the work, the nurse turning to watch all g with the doctor as a large tank is slowly placed down in front of us. My eyes quickly begin to search the thick liquid inside for the person inside, the colored ooze and the large tank making it somewhat difficult as the contents still slosh around.

"We're juuuuust about done with the removal" Dr. Matthews chirp, fiddling with the object binding and pinching at the bottom of my skull. "After a few days of treatment and some minor modifications you'll be waking up in your new bed, isn't that just grand?" He chuckles, the nurse shaking her head.

We all watch as the roiling liquid goo comes to rest, the race over here by the forklift driver having churned it up something shocking. As it slowly settles the body within begins to show through clear as day, revealing the sight of a...