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墨書 Inktalez
In the moment when the heart was pierced, I heard the sound of the inner wall of the Uterus peeling away. The Platinum Solution surged back through the Fallopian Tube into my throat, while the Frozen Embryo Number mixed with Amniotic Fluid crystallized in my esophagus. With each swallow, Surveillance Footage seeped from my gums.
"The Synchronization Rate is 300%!" The Presiding Judge's Mechanical Eye erupted with arcs of electricity, projecting the Mother’s Signature Embryo Donation Agreement as it grew outward from my Retina. Each twist of the handwriting transformed into a Surgical Clamp, crushing the fragments of the Dark Web Server that had just solidified in the Newborn Ovary.
Suddenly, Cervical Mucus carbonized into Data Cable, entangling the melting Metal neck of the Presiding Judge. Dark Web Live Stream Bullet Screen surged forth from her spinal interface, each Danmaku wrapped around the last frame of surveillance footage from a Middle School Classroom—just as Mother injected Ovarian Stimulation Injection, the Wedding Ring reflected the password to the Embryo Transport Ship's hatch.
The Cold Chain Container Number at Pelvic Depth vibrated violently, shattering the Platinum Coating on the inner wall of the Fallopian Tube. The Refrigerant's White Mist burst forth from my Ear Canal, condensing on the Surgical Antimicrobial Curtain into a real-time image of Interpol's failed raid—the SWAT Team Member’s gun barrel blossomed with frost while Mother smiled, holding a baby boy on the deck of the Medical Ship.
"You are merely a petri dish." The Presiding Judge's Vocal Cords suddenly collapsed, and screws fell to the ground, rolling into my altered Birth Certificate. The ink in the father’s section bled under the Surgical Light, revealing a bank statement for Stepfather Trafficking Eggs.
Fragments of the Dark Web Server reassembled in my Chest Cavity, and a Rib suddenly shot out a security laser for Cross-Border Milk Powder. As red light swept across the melting Metal head of the Presiding Judge, her left eye began to play a Video Recording from that night I was locked in the Biological Laboratory—Mother’s high heels crushed an Umbilical Cord Blood Storage Bag containing evidence.
The Platinum Solution at the end of the Fallopian Tube began to boil, and the Embryo Transport Number reformed in steam. Each digit split into a steering wheel for Cold Chain Transport Box, with Vehicle Navigation displaying coordinates for the orphanage where I had been abandoned twenty years ago.
The Cervical Cerclage suddenly snapped, and splattered Amniotic Beads froze mid-air. Each droplet reflected Director Wang’s deleted Death Certificate, with proof in the lower right corner bearing a forged Organ Donation Seal by my homeroom teacher, its ink exuding the scent of Ovarian Stimulation Injection.
As the Dark Web Data Stream formed an Umbilical Cord that constricted around my newborn throat, the Presiding Judge's Chest Cavity suddenly split open to reveal a Surveillance Screen in the Bottom Cabin of the Medical Ship. In that Camera feed, my skin was being peeled away in sheets, exposing dense layers of Frozen Embryo Storage Units filled with blood-tinged Ovulation Stimulant.
"The Cognitive Collapse begins." A Mechanical Voice mixed with Stepfather's cold laughter seeped down from the ceiling. The Surgical Antimicrobial Curtain spontaneously ignited, and amidst its ashes emerged an original Junior High School Physical Examination Report; its binding threads twisted into a structural diagram of Cross-Border Medical Ship’s Steel Dragon Backbone.
A buzzing sound announced that the Cold Chain Container at Pelvic Depth had been unlocked. My Neonatal Uterus exploded into a Dark Web Live Streaming Interface. Amongst audience-sponsored Special Effects Fireworks, Mother donned Surgical Gloves as she cradled a baby boy while I was being shoved into a transparent chamber of an Embryo Extraction Device.
The tip of the Fallopian Tube coiled around the Presiding Judge's vaporizing Mechanical Finger as Platinum Solution flowed backward through my veins. Each drop mirrored a policewoman carving Morse Code into the Cold Storage Chamber—this code was precisely my Uterus's inner wall's Latitude and Longitude Coordinates.
A shard suddenly pierced my lower abdomen, and amidst the red glow, a progress bar for the Interpol Evidence Room emerged. As the 99% of the Red Numbers dripped down, my newly formed Eardrum picked up the electrical noise from the Middle School Classroom surveillance before it was formatted, and the Sound Wave shattered the data fortress formed by Cervical Mucus.
The Presiding Judge's final Mechanical Eye pearl shot into my Palm, and the Iris Pattern suddenly unfolded into a Medical Ship Nautical Log. The latest entry in the Log displayed today’s date, while the crew Signature bore my tampered lip print, each line corresponding to the biometric code of a Dark Web Dark Web Buyer.
As the Platinum Solution surged from my nasal cavity into my brain, I heard the sound of keyboard typing echoing within my newly formed skull. The cranium became transparent, revealing my Mother refreshing my real-time fertility data on a Dark Web auction interface—the Ovary activity index was about to breach critical levels.
"The Container disassembly procedure has been initiated." The familiar sound of my Stepfather's dress shoes echoed from the Presiding Judge's Metal Chest Cavity, shattering the embryo transport chain solidified within my Fallopian Tube. Fragments of Cold Chain Number sliced through the Uterus wall, and splattered Platinum blood suddenly displayed the transaction record for Trafficking Eggs by my homeroom teacher.
The Dark Web Data Stream finally broke through the Cervix defenses, and my newly formed spine abruptly fissured into the Medical Ship's Ventilation Duct. As Rusty Iron flaked away, the inner wall of the duct revealed me at twelve years old—being pressed down by my Stepfather onto a Forged Organ Donation Consent Form to leave my handprint, with ink mixed with the metallic sweetness of Ovulation Stimulant.
When the Presiding Judge completely melted into Liquid Metal, my new heart erupted with a Barcode laser from Cross-Border Milk Powder. The red light swept across every corner of the operating room; as the walls peeled away, they revealed the true scene of the Medical Ship’s Bottom Cabin—twenty versions of me lay in transparent chambers, their abdomens filled with ovulation stimulation tubes.
As the last shard of the Dark Web Server pierced my Temples, I finally saw clearly the Blood Sample Tube label hidden within my Mother’s Ear Pendant. It bore my Twin Brother’s birth date, while the tube's capacity matched exactly the total amount of Ovum extracted over three years in Junior High.
At that moment when Platinum Solution completely submerged my Vocal Cords, I tore open my newly formed throat towards the Dark Web Camera that was Live Streaming. What gushed from my carotid artery was not blood but rather the original Data Stream from Middle School Classroom surveillance before it was deleted—each frame carrying the scent of Ovulation medication from my Mother’s Surgical Gloves.
(End of Chapter)
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