Upgrade - Artificial Muscle (1)
I woke up, but my body wouldn't move. It wasn't that I was half-asleep—my mind was sharp as a tack—and it sure as hell wasn't sleep paralysis, with no pressure pinning me down. If anything, breathing had never felt easier. Oxygen flowed in and out like a highway straight from my mouth to my lungs, full and unobstructed. Like I was intubated or something.
Intubated?
My eyes snapped open. "Mmph!"
There it was—a tube shoved deep into my mouth. Even with my mind fully alert, the usual foreign-object discomfort or nausea from intubation was barely there. My body was submerged in a massive glass tube filled with transparent fluid. Big enough to fit two or three vans inside. I strained with all my might, but not a single finger twitched. It wasn't heaviness or fatigue; it felt like a doll missing a few gears—my brain's commands just weren't reaching my body.
I barely managed to crane my neck downward. My limbs came into view, and my expression hardened. Parts of my body had turned sickly pale. Not like "my skin's cleaner now." More like boiled chicken meat. In spots, you could even see the muscle fibers peeking through. It was the kind of sight that'd make a faint-hearted person scream, but thankfully, there was no pain. My years as a soldier pulled me back from the brink of panic.
When you're in an insane situation and need to get your head straight, recall your last memory.
Amid the confusion, a line from basic officer training stuck with me: some instructor's advice. I released the forced tension from my limbs and steadied my breathing. Slowly, I tried to piece together the last moments.
First thing that came to mind: a woman's voice. Beautiful, resonant with power. Arrogant, yet laced with an undeniable gentleness she couldn't quite hide. I couldn't remember who it belonged to.
"This procedure is different from your previous accelerated implant. You'll need to stay in a deep coma for a long time."
Previous? Implant? What the hell? My sluggish brain only let me access fragmented memories. Distant past was clear, but recent events? Total blackout.
"It's not some barbaric surgery cutting into bone or flesh. No need to tense up excessively. Remember Theseus's ship I explained before? Your flesh and bones will be replaced cell by cell with the same components. We're just accelerating the process. Nothing changes inside your skull. Alright, let's begin."
Yeah! Vaguely, I remembered stepping into the tube myself. The cold touch of the glass under my bare feet.
"You might dream while your consciousness sinks deep. Your head will feel heavy, memories jumbled. Just follow wherever your submerged unconscious leads."
I recalled an anesthesia mask descending and the tube filling with clear fluid.
"Stop!"
The woman shouted, halting my frantic recall. This voice wasn't a memory—it was speaking to me now, in real time.
"It's too early to wake. Sleep more."
Who the hell are you...? The question stayed trapped behind my sealed lips. Then a ferocious wave of drowsiness crashed over me.
What the hell is this? No clue how much time had passed. I was back in my childhood, in the orphanage reception room, sobbing as I got chewed out. A long-forgotten childhood nightmare playing out before my eyes.
"Do you still not know what you did?" the director said to me.
"The director's asking you. Answer!"
"..."
Even as another adult barked at me, I stayed silent. Back then, I genuinely had no idea what I'd done wrong.
"You threw stones through the windows during worship service. Not one or two—four of them!"
I remembered the other kids who bullied me framing me. Their faces in the corner, mocking me silently, were crystal clear. Sadistic sneers twisted their features. It was a special service with donors invited, more elaborate than usual, but the shattering glass ruined everything.
"Three windows smashed, and everyone bolted mid-service! What an embarrassment!"
What enraged the director most was the risk of losing donors, but he couldn't say that outright. Too mercenary against a kid. Instead, he brought out something else.
"Sister was badly hurt too!"
The elderly nun standing to the side had bandages on her arm, neck, and face. Still seeping red—she hadn't stopped bleeding. Rage burned in the eyes of the usually pious nun, her wrinkled lips that preached mercy pressed tight.
"I didn't do it!"
The adults surrounding me grew even sterner. My plea didn't correct their misconception; it just erased whatever pity lingered in their hearts.
"You're disappointing me to the end."
The director's voice was heavy. "Ugh..."
Regressing to childhood had weakened my mind too? A single denial after one plea made my heart ache, tears spilling. I wanted to defend myself, but my mouth wouldn't open properly. Fear, injustice, sorrow—all hit me vividly.
"Sorry, but we can't help a child who refuses help. Jinsu, you'll be sent away to somewhere else."
The director stood, his voice ice-cold. Sunlight streamed through the window behind him, hiding his face. But those frigid eyes pierced clear as day.
"Any other opinions?"
The adults chimed in one by one.
"Lying to the bitter end—that attitude's rotten."
"You have no idea how much my kid cried seeing this."
A female staffer pointed to the scar on her cheek.
"He started fights last month too."
They were the ones who'd picked the fight and thrown the first punch—from that corner, sneering. But truth didn't matter to them.
Then came the worst part of the memory: murmurs from all sides. An adult saying my leaving would free up garden space. Complaints about scars. Worries on re-inviting donors. Demands to drag me to them, smash my head on the ground in apology first. Adults cursing me. Kids cursing me. It battered my eardrums from every direction. Like being tied to a lighthouse wall in a storm, facing wind, rain, and thunder alone.
I plugged my ears and cried, but no sympathy came. Back in my frail child body and mind, swept away by the gale, torn to shreds...
"Shut up!"
A voice blasted from somewhere, silencing the murmurs. A human figure wrapped in radiant white light descended from the reception room ceiling. Pure white glow, but voluptuous breasts, cinched waist, broad hips flowing into beautiful legs—it was unmistakably female. In that brief moment, malicious murmurs crept back.
"I said shut up—all of you!"
Her roar brought perfect silence. Fierce, immense power in her voice. Yet to me, it felt endlessly warm. The white being looked at me.
"I told you to sleep deeply, but you dove all the way down here?"
With each word, a sweet fragrance soul-meltingly drifted toward me.
"Your unconscious, the rooms holding your past memories—they're all filled with wounds."
The figure reached out to me.
"I wanted to tie you shallowly under the surface so you couldn't go elsewhere, but then you'd surge up awake."
Gently stroking my cheek.
"Put you a bit deeper, and suddenly you're sunk to the bottom, crying."
She pulled my face to her bosom. Indescribable softness enveloped me warmly.
"Really... you little troublemaker."
And everything vanished. The people yelling at me, even the cold orphanage. She and I were submerged in water. Colorful fish swam around us. A river? The sea? I could still breathe. Not far above, sunlight shattered brilliantly on the surface. We rose slowly toward it. But we didn't break through. Pulling my face from her chest, I looked down: infinite darkness stretched below. No seaweed, coral, sand, pebbles—nothing. Pure darkness. Pitch-black abyss lurking. Even the fish avoided it.
"Don't look below."
Her warm palm cradled the back of my head, guiding me back to her chest. So soft. Insanely soft. Even underwater, a pleasant scent wafted, and two small, squishy protrusions brushed my cheek.
"This depth is perfect. Just stay here."
She whispered in my ear. Instead of replying, I wrapped my arms around her slender back and hugged tight. She reciprocated. Her mature, beautiful legs coiled around my immature ones like serpents. Like returning to a mother's womb. Like twins recognizing each other in utero. We clung together under the surface, eyes closed.
When I came to, I was somewhere else entirely. Not the water embracing that white woman. Drifting in space. Amid the black void, the sun blazed far off—hexagonal rays fierce, but not enough to banish the infinite dark. Earth loomed close. Not the full-planet view from movies or photos. Rivers snaking between mountains to the sea. Snow-capped peaks. Delicate coastlines merging into seafloors. Scattered, clustered, swirling clouds. Lightning and storms viewed from orbit. Each a wondrous sight.
But what captivated me most: the edges of islands submerged in the sea, gleaming like oil on water through a prism. And over there, a step from the sun and Earth: the moon.
"Sigh. Will you even remember escaping again, you bundle of accidents?"
A voice echoed from somewhere.
"Seo Jinsu. Facility capture specialist. Combat engineer platoon leader. Now Shelter manager."
I scanned for the source, but only the stunning cosmic backdrop filled my view.
"Cautious yet reckless. Prefers field command. Never surrenders in any disadvantaged battle. Never gives up. Always finds a way to survive."
The cool recitation warmed with laughter toward the end.
"Oh! Right. You never just take it lying down. Always clawing for a way out. That's the cause."
The voice came from behind.
"That's why."
The woman in pure white light.
"Unlike the acceleration procedure, you need to sleep long this time. But even a single ray piercing the surface, and you swim up to wake."
She touched my cheek.
"Here, no matter how hard you swim, there's no end. No bad guys to torment you. Just serene quiet."
Her hand slid to grasp mine.
"Bored alone? Come with me. It's early, but think of it as recon."
Her glowing finger pointed to the lunar maria.
"Plenty to see there. By the time we've toured it all, the procedure in reality will be done."
Together, we descended to the moon's surface.