I was in the conditioning room. I remember that.

I was familiar with all the functions. I was trained for it. Everything seemed too complicated in paper. Not the conepts themselves, but the explanations, expanded, not making any much more sense. The information travelling from the axons of the neurons to the dendrites would end up changing all the biochemical composition in the cerebrospinal liquid at a molecular level.

All these discoveries were obviously a consequence of the understanding of the soul not as a metaphysical concept, but as a thing that could be defined, determined, and measured. Of course, this all happened after The Reveal. Before, the understanding of the molecular biochemistry was nothing but rudimentary. We could see through the tissues of any living things the same way as an untrained eye scrutinizes a forest. Wood, leaves, wind, bushes. But no perception of its composition, the interactions, the layers in the ecosystem, the roots, the symbionts, or the trophic affectations.

Now the understanding was complete, and the use of the tartarus was common in many high-class research facilities. When they showed us how to intervene the framework of reality, everything seemed to fall in place. Not like we could have been waiting for it, but as if we were groomed by it.

Tartarus served different purposes, among them, monitoring the health at an epigenetic level in real time. Who could afford it could identify any decaying cells in real time. With the correct usage, the decline could be not only stopped, but reversed.

Like all the Other technology, it was a little bit whimsical with the histological make up of anyone using it. Unfortunately, I was discovered and assigned to tartarus. That session started as always, connecting with the sentient part of the structure, which welcomed me with the regular synaptic vibrations. It folded around me, it became tamed, soft, tender. We were one. I sent the signal to the AI outside. One of the white walls of the conditioning room faded in my blurry vision. A girl walked in. Naked, she started to disappear and become an amalgam of lights and sounds. I was seeing her like the reality perceived her. A momentum of carbon wrapped in time.

I remember the edges of the DNA chains being extremely long for what I was used to. Something was running oddly. She had an advanced case of leukaemia. Blood cells proliferating uncontrollably, crashing with her own immune system. Making the transport of nutrients and cell communication unviable. She was dying.

I contacted tartarus. The entity answered as it used to do. We exchanged the information. The girl was introduced in the body of the machine. The task was titanic but was not the first time that we were doing it. We started identifying and killing each one of the faulty blood cells. One by one, they were being disintegrated. A cleansing. A rebirth.

Suddenly something went wrong. I felt it. The process was still going on but somehow, an energy was opposing us. I tried to mark the possibilities. Was not physiologic, was not environmental. Impossible in the conditioning room. Tartarus did not seem concerned. I thought it was significant. We agreed to end up the healing while I investigated. I was sure that something bad was happening. I just couldn’t define what. Or who. I dissociated myself from tartarus. Just in case. Was not an orthodox choice. I took the risk. And then I saw it.

It started as a shout, a deafening noise. The girl was screaming. When I left the communion, the colours and shapes faded, and a human being appeared in front of me. She was covered in blood, trapped within the organic and crystalline bodies of the otherworldly automaton.

Her mouth, opened in a sick grimace, impaled by the very thing that was trying to save her. She was screaming out of pain. Tartarus did not shut down the pain receptors before starting. I searched for the consciousness like I did before. We greeted each other like any other day. We were one, once again.

I subtly started to exchange information. I stopped the process, and I was questioned. Tartarus did not ask me why, tartarus demanded an explanation.

I tried to explain myself as quick as I could in the logical impasses that our wordless language required.

“She is in pain. The protocol has not been followed. The receptors of the neural system are still working. We work to stop it, we work to fix it, we resume.”

Tartarus did not vibrate, did not communicate immediately.

“Pain is a symptom of the healing. We do not stop. We do not fix. We finish.”

“Not accepted, she is suffering.” I tried to go as fast as I could.

“Suffering will not kill the body. The lack of pain is a commodity. We proceed.”

I could feel my mind moving away, the room becoming clear, the girls voice drilling my brain again. I was being ejected.