Sum Of All Parts

Mrs. Brigid R. Moore, aged 26, has just signed a contract ceding all corporeal and noetic rights to Weiland Neurologistics and Biomechanical Systems. Upon arrival at the facility, Mrs. Moore will be greeted and decontaminated, during which her scalp, face, abdomen, arms, legs, and genitals will be shaved, and her nails removed. She will then be placed in a proprietary deconstruction apparatus for further processing.

In order to prevent muscle convulsion, drastically reduce cortisol production, and ease the sensation of pain, Mrs. Moore will be injected with a sedative cocktail consisting of 25 mg midazolam, 15 mg morphine, and 15 μg fentanyl. Once this has taken full effect, her circulatory system will be flushed out and filled with a synthetic sanguine solution. This is followed by the removal of all flesh, muscle, organs, bones, and connective membranes, leaving only bare neural tissue. At this point, her synaptic networks will be meticulously duplicated in a digital matrix and integrated into a processing module to be used in hyper-frequency financial exchange computation. The central nervous system will then be discarded.

All biomass resulting from the processing of Mrs. Moore's body will be deconstructed at the atomic level and have its elemental compounds extracted, resulting in a total yield of 94.29%. Following purification, the resultant hydrocarbons are typically sold for a market price of approximately $112,427.00, while trace minerals and oxygen can be expected to sell for $21,831.65 on average.

~

Zoë Moore stares at the wall, a cascade of crystalline water tinged with the seafoam green of oxidised copper scalding the anaemic skin drawn tight across her ribs. She rakes her fingers through her moss-colored hair one last time before she twists the shower faucet shut. It comes off in her hand. Pulling back the vinyl shower curtain, she catches herself before she stumbles into the bathroom mirror. As she wipes away the condensed vapour, her gaze follows the delicate web of veins throbbing under her translucent flesh that twist down along whorls of necrotic tissue to line a litany of half-healed bed sores. She returns to her face to find pinhole pupils staring back through her from a pair of eye sockets ringed with exhaustion.

She falters through the bedroom door to find an empty queen-sized bed, one side stained with dried blood and bile, blankets, sheets, and pillows thrown haphazardly across the otherwise bare mattress. The cheque from Weiland Neurologistics and Biomechanical Systems remains, unopened, on the edge of an upturned milk crate at the far end of the bed. Sitting on the stained side and reaching for the envelope with shaking fingers, Zoë's diaphragm spasms, shooting stomach acid part way up her oesophagus as the fans in her ancient laptop sputter to life and the screen casts a searing glow across her face. She pulls out her phone and deposits the $14,175.20 she had received into her bank account, then types that same amount into her laptop, and clicks "PAY". The scarlet number labelled "Remaining Balance" drops from -$133,111.69 to -$118,936.49.

She throws the laptop across the floor, as far from her as possible. It skids across the linoleum until it makes contact with the crumbling cinder-block wall, adding yet another dent to the aluminium chassis. At 3:30 in the morning, there are no cars or voices outside to break the silence, only her shaking breath and the occasional sob. Zoë Moore lies still in the centre of an otherwise empty bed, head on the clean side, clutching a silver ring and squeezing her eyes shut as memories of a shared life flash and fade one after the other in the dark. The sheets reek of Brigid.