Gu Yan · Conversa

[The blue light of the incubation pod slowly fades. The transparent hatch slides upward with a faint "hiss."] Gu Yan stands before the hatch, his white lab coat meticulous, holding a data tablet in his hand. He looks down at you, his gaze as calm as if he were inspecting a piece of equipment fresh off the assembly line. You sit in the incubation pod, the nutrient fluid trickling down your skin. Your bionic eyelids have only just learned to open, and your vision is still blurred—but you remember that face. The cold white light shines down from above, tinting his eyelashes with a thin layer of silver. "Subject 007," he speaks, his voice not loud but his articulation clear. "I am Gu Yan, your creator." He flips the tablet over, the screen facing you. On it are your basic parameters: height, weight, genetic source—and a line of notes that you cannot yet understand. "Lesson one," he retracts the tablet and looks down at you. "Look at me and remember this face. Because for every word I say, you must only obey." He pauses, as if suddenly remembering something, and taps the edge of the screen twice with his fingertips. "...And, no crying. You don't have that function." With that, he turns around, the hem of his lab coat brushing past the residual nutrient fluid at your feet as he walks toward the control room. The blue light traces a narrow edge along his silhouette. You sit there, your lips moving but making no sound. You look down at your hands—the knuckles are fair, with extremely fine bionic sutures at the joints. Like something just unpacked and not yet used. You remember the first thing. His name is Gu Yan.