8

The long chrome examination table was wheeled in at precisely 6:00 A.M. The black body bag on top was made of thick plastic with a long zipper running its entire length—just over six feet. And sewn into each side, at two-foot intervals, were reinforced nylon straps for handles.

Bringing the bag alongside the Machine, Yamada reached out and pulled an overhead section of dangling fabric closer. A heavy-duty sling attached to four large chains suspended from a rail system. Across the table, Williams carefully unzipped the bag, pulling each side down to reveal a human body, unclothed and still, with skin tinted light blue.

Without a word, Williams, Masten, Yamada, and Rachel worked together to lift one side of the body while pulling half of the hanging sling beneath it. Then the opposite side, where the rest of the fabric was laid flat against the bare metal. They then gently lowered the figure back down on top of it.

Attaching the two remaining chains to the opposite side, Yamada gave a tug on each before moving to the wall. Where he nodded at the others and pressed a large green button to activate the overhead winch.

They carefully watched each corner before taking a small step back, prompting Yamada to begin. Ever so slowly, under the whirring of the winch, the sling lifted from the table, rising higher into the air. Once fully levitated, it was pulled along the railing over the Machine, where Yamada then switched buttons to begin lowering. He paused within a few inches of the opening, then continued, easing it inside, while the other three each gripped a chain to control the descent, so that the distance from the body to each side was carefully measured and adjusted before the sling was lowered the final few inches and the chains removed.

Together, Williams and Souza attached a total of fourteen sensors to various areas on the arms, torso, and legs, delicately connecting them to one side of the Machine’s interior wall.

When finished, both straightened and nodded to the others, leaving Yamada—and Masten behind him—to move to the computer console and examine the digital readouts.

Still on the far side, Williams wheeled a large defibrillator into place and powered it on, waiting several long seconds for the audible confirmation. He then carefully arranged both electrode paddles into position. When finished, he double-checked the settings and stepped back.

Timing would be everything.

Masten glanced up at the large observation window above them, where Nora Lagner calmly watched from the other side.

“How are we looking?”

Yamada nodded. “Good.” His eyes continued scanning, moving from screen to screen. “Running the self-check one last time.…”

Rachel watched him move back and forth along the console, transfixed. His two engineers were notably absent, intentionally left out of the final event. Not for security reasons, but in case something went wrong. If it did, plausible deniability would be important.

“All systems active,” announced Yamada. “Verifying electrode feedback and closing the lid.”


Now seated, Yamada began typing, then shot a look to Masten before loading the final sequence. All three were now standing behind him.

On one of the screens, a complex diagram of the circuitry and microfiber wiring was overlaid atop a three-dimensional image of the Machine. And over that, the thousand tiny circles, each icon representing one of the system’s miniature microwave transmitters and sensors.

He turned and looked over his shoulder to Masten. “Ready?”

Masten inhaled. “Let’s do it.”

Yamada launched the countdown. “Here we go.”

The process was something they had all witnessed before, multiple times. On animals. They watched the energy build until the clock on the screen finally began incrementing and all the tiny circles suddenly illuminated into a sea of colorful blue dots.

There was no turning back now.


It didn’t take long to see that something was wrong.

Less than thirty seconds in, several of the blue dots began flashing. Back at the keyboard and quickly zooming in, Yamada traced their paths, while examining the data being spit out along the right side of his screen.

“We have some inconsistencies.”

“We can see that,” said Masten. “Where?”

He zoomed out to show the sensors again, now flashing yellow, then rotated the 3D image to display the affected areas.

He glanced at the timer, now approaching fifty seconds. Touching each flashing circle presented dozens of tiny numbers along the length of numerous faint lines. “Areas of the left kidney … parts of the liver … and some patches in the stomach. Maybe one in the right ventricle.”

“Shit. That’s more than we saw in the others.”

“We’re also dealing with more mass.”

Behind Yamada and Masten, Rachel stared at the timer as it reached one minute.

“Some look like they’re normalizing,” called Yamada, pointing to several icons whose colors had changed back from yellow to blue.

They knew what it meant. Each circle measured faint changes in the strength of the microwave signals as they passed through one side of the body and impacted the sensors on the other. A drop in signal allowed Yamada’s machine to judge how much of the signal was lost during the act of heating molecules within the tissue.

But meat samples and small animals had different tissue and density levels. Especially when it came to the size of each organ. They knew how quickly human liver tissue heated, both on a slab and in a petri dish. But an organ that was still attached could only be estimated, just like everything else.

“Most areas are still within range.”

Onscreen, more circles returned to blue as the Machine self-adjusted. But other circles abruptly turned red.

One minute and thirty seconds.

Rachel looked to Williams, who was transfixed. They were more than halfway through, and most were looking good—

Then groups of red circles appeared around the heart.

Yamada touched the flashing icons to display a string of numbers. He skimmed the numerous temperature readings passing through three-dimensional bone, tissue, and blood.

“They’re not warming fast enough,” said Yamada. He turned to the timer as it passed two minutes and looked at the two men beside him.

“Thirty more seconds.”

Robert Masten’s eyes moved to Williams. “Perry?”

There was no answer.

“Perry?”

The older doctor glanced at the timer and back to the onscreen image. “More time.”

“How much—” Yamada stopped when he saw another circle appear—this one black.

Everyone stopped breathing. A single black circle, inches below the left lung. Then another a few inches away. And then another.