You wake up. Something doesn't feel right. It's hard to move. Your head feels fuzzy. You try to remember. Walking: you were walking. It was dark. Someone behind you. Hands grabbing you. Something over your mouth. Strange smell. Darkness.
Your heart beats faster and you try to struggle, but you still can't move. You realise your hands and legs are tied. You start to sob but it's only in your mind. Your body doesn't respond. It just lies there.
Movement. Sound. You sense that someone is there. You try to control your rising panic as they start to speak.
"Ah, I see you are awake. Don't be afraid. Soon all your fears will go away."
A figure comes into your line of sight. It is too dark for you to make out details, but you can see it is a man. He is doing something to you, but you can't feel it. He seems to be testing something. Is he... is he measuring you? Your fuzzy brain tries to make sense of it.
"Yes," he says, seeming to talk to himself rather than you. "A perfect specimen. It will do just nicely." After a moment, he turns to face you. "I suppose you are wondering what you are doing here. Don't worry. You won't need to wonder for long. Or be afraid. Or even think. Soon all of that will go away."
You are truly panicking now and it must show in your eyes. He tries to soothe you. "No need to stress. It won't hurt a bit. Most of the drugs are already in your system. You can't see the IV in your arm, but it's been slowly medicating you for hours while you slept. I just need to add the final paralytic and sedating agents, and you'll drift right off. Then your conversion can begin."
Conversion? Your drugged brain fights to understand but you have no idea what he means. He seems to want to explain, though. "It's a fascinating process, really. A technological and scientific wonder. Did you know your brain is the most powerful computer yet discovered in the universe? It's wasted in a fallible human body, really. No artificial intelligence we've been able to build has even come close to a real brain. So we're going to take yours out, along with a few other useful parts of you, and transplant them into a synthetic body. You will become a machine, powered by a human brain. But don't worry, all those pesky human thoughts and feelings will be gone. You'll simply be a perfect machine."
He looms closer now, and you can see him smiling down at you. A nondescript, middle-aged man, unremarkable, ordinary. He seems excited about what he is about to do. As if he is doing you a favor.
"Think how amazing it will be. Never to have to think, or feel, or make decisions. All you will have to do is following your programming. My dear, you are privileged to be one of the first to undergo this conversion. A trailblazer. You will become a perfect example of the power of technology."
He suddenly turns and wheels a gurney over. A body lies on it. No, not a body. A... mannequin. "See here? This will be your new body. Synthetic skin over a titanium chassis. Looks human, feels human, but virtually indestructible. Capable of feeling pleasure and pain if your programming allows it." He chuckles. "And once your organic brain is hooked up to the unit's neural network, the processing power will be phenomenal. You will be quite the gadget!" He beams at you, as if expecting you to be pleased. You try to fight down the rising panic. This can't be real. You must be dreaming.
He looks suddenly at his watch. "Hmm, time to be getting on if you are to be ready in time. Already have a buyer, you see. Special order. He's paying a pretty penny, too. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting." He comes closer, a syringe in hand, and begins to do something to your IV. You try to scream, to struggle, to fight, but you cannot move. You cannot move at all. And now your vision is closing in at the edges, becoming black, and you feel so very cold. "There now, my dear. Off to sleep. When you wake up, you will be perfect..."
You blink. Bright light. Humming. You are coming online. You know this. You don't know how you know it, and it doesn't occur to you to wonder. You have rebooted. You stare straight ahead, waiting.
Someone is smiling at you. A man. He seems to be looking you over, inspecting you. "Do you know who I am?" he asks.
You search your data banks. There is no match. "No, sir," you respond.
"I am your master. Add that to your programming." You blink and write the data to your memory. "Yes, master."
"Good." He grins widely, then runs a hand down your arm. "Amazing," he says softly. "You feel so real." His hand brushes over your hard nipples that point out through the fabric of your floral dress. You feel it. You are programmed to feel it. You feel your system respond as it is programmed to do, your arousal circuits coming online.
"Robot... Hmmm, no, that won't do. I need something to call you. Do you have a name?"
You respond readily, your wiring humming slightly as you access the data. "I am a model A2 cybernetic gynoid, master, designated unit 4576, serial number 009394882938992."
He smirks. "But you used to have a name. You used to be human. Isn't that right?"
You blink a few times, trying to process this question. "Negative, master. That would be impossible. I am a machine. I have no memories of being human."
