Must remember to remain calm. Placid. I cannot, will not, disappoint him this time. No, this time it will work. My eyes strain at the observing screen, focusing on the figure displayed in the cold, steel room. It is unmoving and stiff with the ignorance of a newborn. We will fix it. One more time, one more shot to its spine, this thing will live. It will feel and see and breathe like a man. Breathe… This excitement makes me forget to do so.

There! The man in white walks in and straps the thing to the table, facedown. He fills the syringe with the yellow liquid, his face blank. I wish I could control my emotions like that. It must be sickening to be so close to that thing. I don’t know the man’s name, but he is wearing white. They all wear white here. Then… Then he gently sticks the needle into the spine. The thing jerks and shudders, tightening against its straps and groans, as the man in white deposits the liquid into its back. I almost turn my head, but it’s like a train wreck, I have to keep watching… My eyes widening.

It’s making noises. I grip the arms of my chair, leaning forward and pressing my nose to the screen, my body tensing and sweat dripping from my face making it feel greasy. My stomach roils with sickness, bile coming up into my throat. The man in white releases the thing from its bindings and it pushes itself up. A man is made in only a few seconds… Hello, Mr. President.