Short story: Flesh

"Blueprints"

He was fascinated by the process. The skin quickly grew back, stretching over the cut in seconds. Soon his hand was good as new, the new skin only noticeable by a slight freshness.

The robots in his skin were his own invention. They were still in the developing stage, but they'd been successful in all his tests.

When they were done, he's certainly make a fortune, and be able to provide for his family. He'd be able to live in luxury for the rest of his life.

Not a bad life for a sixty-five year old.  

And it wasn't painful either. If anything, it was quite nice. It was a sensation like an adrenaline rush, making one feeling awake and and have your hairs stand on end.

He practically looked forward to his daily tests. The cutting of his hand would make him wince each time, but the sensation of healing was truly great.

"Level one"

It had taken him years to bother making the robots. The idea had been in his mind and plans had been made, but he wasn't really much into his work. It was his wife, Isabelle, who really pushed his ideas. She was ecstatic when she learned of his ideas, insisting he get to work for the 'good of mankind'. Isabelle praised him for his genius, like so many others. Perhaps that's why he married her, because she showered him with so many compliments.

He was a country person himself. He grew up in the south in a poor family, and worked himself to where he was now; barely making ends meet. But that kind of life was just what he liked. He had taken a government job in his youth, creating guns and weapons. It had been the highest paying job he had ever had, but he never liked it. Even though he was one of the best engineers working for the government, he never liked creating anything.

"Level two"

He didn't know what made him happier, his daughters smile or the healing sensation. They weighed pretty much even, sometimes one prevailed over each other, sometimes they remained entirely balanced. When he picked his young daughter up from work, her smile as she told him about her day warmed his heart. But the healing sensation was still something else. He had improved the plan so that the robots released a small amount dopamine into his blood stream as he cut himself for the tests. The purpose he told his wife was to not make him feel the pain. The purpose he used it for was to enhance the healing effect. Sometimes it seemed to him that they were equally balanced, but the healing sensation seemed to gaining more and more these days.

"Level three"

Just to be safe, he injected his daughter with the robots too. It was behind Isabelle's back, but it wasn't going to be noticeable unless she got in an accident. It was a safety maneuver more then anything. There to protect her from any injury.

Maybe it was a coincidence, but his daughter seemed to gain energy after the injection. Taking this as a sign of success, he worked harder on the robots. 

He'd drown days in the basement, just working and testing. He hadn't really a breakthrough, like he told Isabelle, but took so much joy in the healing that he'd do it for an entire day. 

He had gotten rather careless through his dealings with the robots. Once he even set off one of the loaded guns he'd made years ago. The bullets pierced his skin and tore at his flesh, but he only laughed and stepped out of range to turn it off. 

"Assembled"

He eventually decided he liked the feel of the bullets. He'd shoot himself and enjoy the feeling of his wounds closing quickly. Of course, adjustments had to be made. The robots worked as soon as damage was caused, to prevent a freak accident.

And when there was an accident, he took it with a laugh. The robots repaired all of his body, so it didn't matter if he was shot in the heart. He'd be better right away.

He liked the new skin he grew too. It was fresh and pink, like a much younger man. Soon it grew like much of his other skin, wrinkled and grey.

"Action"

There was not much of a reason why he got tired of the cycle of healing. He just wanted to experiment with it more. His initial tests all ran beautifully. The robots worked for his daughter just as well as it worked for him. She would cry at the sound of gunfire, but he was careful to only hit a few non-vital areas.

Besides, she had to get used to this. It was natural, and she could probably gain immunity from pain this way! In fact, with this thought in his mind, he stood in front of the barrel of a minigun and set it to fire automatically.

His daughter was with him when he died. She was just watching, and wasn't quite sure why he had fallen. For there was no blood, no nothing. Just flesh.

He himself was rather surprised when he realized he was dying. He couldn't regret dying, as the robots were working. He felt happy. Not the sort of relief that many recently dead get. No, he was unnaturally happy. Laughing at pain, thoroughly enjoying the bullets piecing his skin. He was unable to feel regret for those he had left behind. The robots wouldn't allow it so.

"Destruction"

The memory of her father dying always disturbed his daughter. She went through childhood quiet and doing her best to be invisible. In fact, when she found out she had a knack for engineering like her father, she grew terrified and shook for days afterwards.

She was indestructible, as she found out. She was the victim of many misfortunes, from car crashes to school shootings. She was the only victim. She was always fine by the end.

Her mother was delighted by her father's creations. Her mother would also shoot herself, but mainly to keep her skin in good condition. She found that the robots were programmed to return new skin to the state they had first found it in when they were first injected. Her mother got to keep her health from when she was in her late thirties. She got to have the skin of a young child.

She eventually got sick of living. Her age was reset so many times by the constant injuries, she decided it was God's will she died, so die she would. But nothing worked. If anything, every death she lived through made her younger and healthier. Yet she strived on, knowing that her father had died and so could she.

"Scrap" 

One could say it was cold out, others might not. His daughter was in her twenties for once, though she looked a bit young. She was there to lay flowers on the grave of her father.

However, she was surprised to find a man sitting on his grave.

He tipped his hat to her, and she gave a bow.

He remarked that those 'bots were certainly very relentless.

They both had a good laugh at that.

And they left the graveyard to it's silent confusion.