Darkness fell upon the small New England where I had been attending university. Under cover of the night, I travelled surreptitiously from the boarding house to the basement of the local mortuary, where I had established a makeshift medical practice of sorts.
My clientele were not of the typical warm-bodied ilk, but rather, the independent parts and limbs of human cadavers. Once thought to be deceased, I believed that, in my brilliance, I had discovered a method of re-animation — that I could restore them to their liveliness, as one might do with a machine. For indeed, what is any organism but a complex biomechanical device? Humans should be no exception to that.
I had been assembling a corpse collage using the finest specimens of each human piece available in the mortuary — an arm from here, a stomach from there, two eyes carved delicately from separate heads to maximize their ocular potential, and so on. I stitched and fused and grafted each part together until it resembled a full human being.
It was on that fateful night that I finally injected this new specimen with my experimental serum. Lightning crashed coincidentally outside as I depressed the syringe, watching the bluish liquid flow through the tubing and in through the slits I had carved into the corpses’ veins.
