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墨書 Inktalez
The end of the Fallopian Tube erupted, and the Cord Blood congealed into ice on the courtroom Floor Tile, as the genetic sequences of seventy-two embryos began to reorganize along the carbonized patterns of my collarbone. The Cloud Data Stream from Interpol suddenly materialized, infused with the scent of disinfectant from the delivery room, flooding into my healing Cervical Laceration.
The remains of Shuang Hua suddenly ignited, and from the flames emerged the Organ Trafficking Contract hidden by my homeroom teacher in a Biology Textbook ten years ago. My newly formed Uterine Wall became transparent, revealing the Undercover Police's Retinal Pattern being restructured deep within the Dark Web Server.
"Number 0729 Vital Sign Data abnormal!" The Presiding Judge's Mechanical Arm suddenly pierced my repairing Fallopian Tube, and sparks scraped from the Metal Tip etched a map of the Cross-Border Medical Ship's route onto the Surgical Antimicrobial Curtain. Cervical Mucus crystallized into a Scalpel, its handle inscribed with Director Wang's Pupil Recognition Code from the Mortuary's changing room.
The remnants of Danmaku from the Dark Web Live Room materialized, shattering the National Emblem on the Court Dome, and reconfiguring into an Extradition Warrant on my newly growing skin. The Silicone melted from my Mother's high heels surged in, mingling with the scent of semen from the Middle School Classroom floor, blocking my nearly closing Vocal Cords.
The Embryo Transport Agreement at the end of my Fallopian Tube spontaneously combusted, and from the ashes sprang forth a Blockchain Key hidden in my Stepfather's Crocodile Leather Shoes' Inner Pocket. My new Nail suddenly peeled off, each shard embedded with fingerprints written in mascara by a female officer before her carbonization, identifying her as a Transnational Crime Syndicate Leader.
The fluorescent Refrigerant in the Cold Chain Transport Box twisted into the shape of Obstetrical Forceps, clamping down on the surface of my healing Ovary where Barcode Stretch Marks were present. As the last remnants of the Surgical Antimicrobial Curtain brushed against my eyelids, I tasted the Iron Rust Smell from Hemostatic Forceps in the delivery room twenty years ago.
The Data Stream from the Dark Web Server projected a holographic image onto my Uterine Wall; my homeroom teacher was forging my Organ Donation Consent Form in the Dissection Room. The Uniform Button from Interpol suddenly melted, and Platinum Solution flowed backward through my Fallopian Tube, solidifying at the Cervix into a Safety Lock for an Extradition Flight.
"Vital Sign Data Synchronization Rate 98%!" The Presiding Judge's Mechanical Eye exploded with red light from the Cold Chain Container's Number. My new Vocal Cords vibrated unexpectedly, resonating at a frequency that shattered the False Teeth of my Stepfather on the Witness Stand, harmonizing with the roar of a Refrigerated Truck Engine belonging to a Cross-Border Medical Ship.
What flowed from my Cervical Laceration was no longer Amniotic Fluid but rather a School Uniform Zipper Tooth torn apart by my homeroom teacher during Junior High. Each Metal Tooth bore an IP Address belonging to initial users of the Dark Web Live Room, burning into charred marks on the courtroom Floor Tile as my heartbeat quickened.
The Blood Pearl at the end of my Fallopian Tube suddenly hovered into a Surveillance Camera; inside it, Director Wang was using my Oocyte Culture Medium Signature. The remains in the Cold Chain Transport Box stood upright in a crucifix shape; nailed to it was not Jesus but rather a torn Right Half Of The Face from my Junior High School Graduation Photo.
Echoes of Seventy-Two Cries resonated from Interpol's cloud, piercing through my repairing Eardrum along with the clashing sounds of Extradition Handcuffs. Cervical Mucus crystallized into a syringe; within its needle, liquid swirled with a Copper Green hue reminiscent of my homeroom teacher's Golden Wire Glasses Frame.
The final remnants of logs from the Dark Web Server suddenly pierced through my Uterine Wall, projecting an Iris Pattern of Undercover Police dissolved in Formaldehyde onto the Court Dome. My new Fingertip began to seep Blood Pearls, each drop reflecting my Mother’s trembling Pen Tip as she altered the Paternity Test Report.
The cold chain transport box suddenly coalesced into a human face, with the eye sockets embedded with the last frame of footage before the surveillance was formatted. The end of the fallopian tube abruptly curled into the shape of a stethoscope, a metal probe pressed against my healing heart, muffled sounds emanating from the bottom cabin of the cross-border medical ship.
What spewed from the cervical laceration was no longer amniotic fluid, but samples of missing frozen embryos from the evidence room at Interpol. Each glass vial bore the anonymous ID of dark web users, striking Morse code against the courtroom floor tiles as my uterus contracted.
The final fibers of the surgical antimicrobial curtain suddenly tightened into guitar strings, resonating with the sound of my homeroom teacher tearing up the organ donation consent form. My newly grown eyelashes fell away, each one coated with the longitude coordinates written in the evidence bag by a female officer before carbonization.
The data stream from the dark web live room suddenly materialized into an umbilical cord, tightening around the hydraulic pipe of the presiding judge's mechanical arm. Cervical mucus mixed with the steel seal of an international extradition document, branding my newly formed pelvis with the port number where the medical ship docked.
The cold chain transport box and remains suddenly reformed into a delivery bed shape, with bloodstains on the sheets spelling out the password entered by Director Wang in the mortuary's changing room. The blood pearl at the end of the fallopian tube suddenly burst, each droplet reflecting my stepfather's slow-motion exchange of cold chain containers captured by customs surveillance.
The Interpol uniform spontaneously ignited, ashes revealing footage from my junior high days locked in a biological laboratory's video recording. What flowed from the cervical laceration was no longer amniotic fluid but a mixture of cooling liquid from a dark web server and sweat from undercover police.
"Synchronization complete!" The cloud prompt shattered my last layer of carbonization as the fallopian tube twisted into a DNA spiral. The cold chain transport box and Shuang Hua reformed into my homeroom teacher's fingerprint, pressing down on my neonatal uterus's implantation point.
Cervical mucus suddenly solidified into a surgical clamp, pinching the nautical log of the cross-border medical ship that pierced through the blood pearl at the end of the fallopian tube. As remnants of the surgical antimicrobial curtain brushed past my lips, I tasted the oxidized blood smell from twenty-year-old hemostatic gauze in the delivery room.
The remains of the dark web server suddenly coalesced into an infant shape, connected by an umbilical cord to Interpol's cloud data interface. My newly formed abdomen became transparent, revealing real-time images of seventy-two embryos synchronously growing within a virtual uterus.
The roar of the refrigerated truck engine from the cold chain transport box suddenly tore through the courtroom, and fragments of my carbonized torso reignited. Yet what emerged from the flames was not rebirth but rather what was being pieced together beneath the shadowless lights of the delivery room—
(End of chapter)
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