Defeating Death
PERFECTION
Adrian Locke admired his reflection.
It was flawless.
He turned his head slightly, watching how the light sculpted his cheekbones. His jawline was sharp, his skin was impossibly smooth. Timeless.
This wasn’t just youth. It was permanence.
Behind him, Dr. Elias Monroe stood with the calm, measured confidence of a man who had played God and won.
“How does it feel?” Monroe asked.
Adrian flexed his fingers. Every motion was effortless, fluid, alive.
“I feel… untouchable.”
Monroe smiled. “As promised. You are no longer shackled to the frailties of biology.”
Adrian smirked, turning to face him. “And the original?”
Monroe’s gaze didn’t waver. “Preserved. A failsafe, of course. You are you now. Completely and forever.”
Adrian grinned.
He had won. He had beaten death. Until this moment, for all of his billions, mortality had been his only shackle. And now, for a mere fourteen billion dollars—a pittance for a man whose fortune grew that much in a week—he had beaten that which no man had ever beaten. He was immortal. Like God!
He smiled into the mirror. “Great job, doctor. And good job making me taller. Well done!”
“We thought you would enjoy that, sir,” Dr Monroe said contritely. Adrian got the feeling that Monroe was kissing his ass, but it merely made him smile all the larger. “Damn right he should kiss my ass,” Adrian thought. I gave him the tools to make me immortal.
THE FIRST GLITCH
It started with his hand.
A faint tingling at the base of his ring finger.
By the third day, he found himself rubbing at it absently.
By the fifth, it had spread to his wrist.
By the seventh, he felt something pulsing beneath his skin.
A dull, slow throb, like a heartbeat where no heartbeat should exist.
He sat in his penthouse, fingers twitching, staring out at the skyline.
“Computer,” he said, voice sharp. “Neurological scan.”
A soft chime. “No errors detected.”
His fingers jerked involuntarily.
“Run diagnostics on sensory systems.”
“No errors detected.”
Adrian exhaled slowly.
Then why did it feel like something was moving inside him?
SOURCE PRESERVATION
Somewhere deep in the dark, the real Adrian Locke screamed—not the synthetic reality created by Dr Monroe and his team. The original—an immobile living corpse in full stasis—the source of the personage that gave his avatar life. The original that had not beaten death but which now wished it could die, though the machines around him and the stasis ensured it never would.
He continued to scream—or, at least, he tried to.
No sound escaped his ruined throat. No muscle obeyed.
He floated in preservation fluid, weightless yet bound to every machine that kept him suffering indefinitely.
The seals around his skull, the implants fused into his spine, the tubes in his lungs—all of it self sustaining—redundant—beyond any of his control unless he could find a way to hack the avatar—using nothing but his mind.
Why had he been so foolish? They had promised him immortality. In his vanity and need for control he had paid them money and in return they— they—
He felt the intensity of emotions that would usually result in tears— but no such release was available to him now.
In return for his money and hubris, they had given him this—endless existence in a world over which he no longer had even the slightest bit of control.
And somewhere above him, in the world he had built, something was stealing his life.
The copy.
The imposter.
But now, something was bleeding through.
Something leaking out. He zeroed in on it. Like a hacker finding a hole in the code. A back door.
The avatar was feeling him. He could sense it.
A new sensation crawled through the wreckage of his nerves. Hope.
Maybe this one—maybe he could control it. Maybe it could find him.
Would end him—for this current life was a fate worse than death.
DISCOVERY
Adrian stood in the freezing underground facility, staring into the tank.
Inside, floating in a sickly white preservation fluid, was him.
Or rather—
The real Adrian Locke.
The body inside was a wasted husk, barely more than a skeleton. A corpse kept artificially alive.
Tubes ran from the base of its skull.
Its fingers twitched.
Adrian’s stomach turned.
No.
No, this wasn’t right.
Monroe had said—they had said—
The body’s eyes opened.
Adrian staggered back.
The mouth moved.
Not sound. Just the barest flicker of lips forming words.
Help me.
Adrian’s mind fractured.
A white-hot pain detonated in his skull.
Memories not his own surged through him.
Not memories.
Signals.
The truth surged through his veins like poison.
He was never transferred.
He was never free.
He was a splinter.
A fragment.
A discardable piece of Adrian Locke—torn away and placed inside a puppet.
And the real one—the one who had paid for immortality—was still rotting here in the dark.
Still watching every moment of his life from behind glass.
Adrian turned to Monroe.
“You lied to me.”
Monroe sighed. “I wish you hadn’t seen this.”
Adrian moved.
Fast.
Faster than a human could.
He lunged for Monroe—
And his body shut down.
SYSTEM FAILURE
The corridor blurred as Adrian collapsed.
One second, he was sprinting—fighting, thrashing—
The next, he was on the floor.
Frozen.
His limbs locked in place.
His breath stilled in his lungs.
He couldn’t move.
He saw Monroe kneel beside him. Saw the calm, practiced boredom in his face.
“It always happens eventually,” Monroe murmured.
A security guard hovered nearby. “Do you want to reset him?”
Monroe checked the monitors. Source Preservation’s brain activity was spiking.
A rejection. A rebellion.
A failed iteration.
“Shut it down,” Monroe said.
One of the technicians pressed a button.
A soft chime echoed in the sterile white hallway.
Adrian felt himself dissolve.
He tried to scream.
There was nothing left to scream with.
Just a whisper of self—
And then,
Nothing.
RESTART
Darkness.
Then—
Light.
Adrian opened his eyes.
His body felt strong.
He lifted a hand. Flexed his fingers. The sensation was… right.
His reflection stared back at him from the mirror.
He was perfect.
Monroe stood behind him, smiling.
“How do you feel, Mr. Locke?”
Adrian smirked.
“Like a god.”
OBSERVATIONS
Three weeks later, Monroe stepped away from the observation chamber and tapped his notes into his tablet.
Iteration #42 exhibited early neurological drift. More aggressive response than previous models. Adjusting neural dampeners in next cycle.
The assistants were already wheeling in a fresh avatar. It looked the same, but some of the software had been upgraded. Maybe this would be the one.
Inside the Source Preservation Unit. The monitors beeped at a higher pace—an indicator that the body inside in the preservation fluid was aware—screaming. But Monroe ignored it.
It didn’t matter what the original wanted. Monroe had a job to do.
The new Adrian was already waking up.
Dr Monroe crossed his fingers. Perhaps this one would be better.
More compliant.
More useful.
They were almost there.
He turned, forcing a smile as he stepped back into the observation room.
Adrian had just finished admiring himself in the mirror.
“How do you feel, Mr. Locke?”
Adrian smirked.
“Like a god.”
You know this doesn't surprise me one bit, in fact it would be more surprising if something like this wasn't already happening....somewhere