“April 3rd, 2045.” The slightly crumpled page declares in bold, thick black ink, illuminated by a dim flashlight. Smith stares intently towards the page, as if trying to pry in into the insides of its components. “Come on… think you son of a bitch…” He forces his brain to work.

  Nothing. Nothing comes to mind now. Usually, at most times he’d be writing mass amounts of words. Now, there’s nothing to write anymore. What is there to write? More dirty trenches, filled with rats, and the rotting corpses of who were once his comrades? The constant sound of artillery barrage, that sends dirt flying towards his eyes? The screams of agony, piercing through the night during those charges? It’d be too repetitive. He looks around, to the plastic and wood plating of the supposed “perfected trench” the military set up.

  A chuckle came out of his mouth. The military must have buffoons running it. He closed his notebook, and turned off the flashlight. There’s nothing to write today, it seems. He gently laid back towards the plastic and wood of the trench plating. He always loved the cold, freezing sensation kissing his skin, of how it reminded him of simpler times when he was a child. Everything always felt so perfect before, or so he thinks to himself. He slowly closed his eyes…

  BOOM!

  The explosion rang through his ears like an arrow as he jolted awake. Just as he began to cover his ears, a high-pitched sound pierced it again, harming the already fragile organs. The pain already made him want to crumble and duck to the ground. However, he knows what that second sound is. The whistle.

  There’s not many rules and codes in the trenches of Kiev. However there is one everyone is mandatory to follow: If the whistle blows, there’s only three thing you must do at that situation. Grab your S2, climb the ladder, and charge. And that’s exactly what he did. He quickly clutches his rifle, and climbed the ladder, taking a deep breath, as he climbed to see bright flashes of beams and bolts scatter across the battlefield.

  But before he could even walk into the barren No Man’s Land, a bolt of plasma pierced his gut, as the intestines of his flew open towards the land. Before the pain signal reaches, another one vaporizes his left arm into gas, leaving a gaping hole on his arm. Chunks of bones and flesh fall onto the ground, as the rifle he once grabbed with his hand now fell as if there was nothing there. The rifle was covered in dripping blood and flesh dropping from the hole left from the wound.

  And then another one at his right cheek, leaving a hole of flesh and bones once more, nearly snapping his head sideways. His right eye nearly fell out of its socket from the sudden hole appearing right below it.

  Before he could even comprehend what was going on, another final shot hit his right leg, just above the knee, severing the connection, and again turning into gas. Already in pain, he falls towards the ground, back into the trench. He screams and yells like a primal being, the highest he had in years, nearly breaking his vocal cords.

  The last thing he saw were the fading stars and the bright full Moon on top of him. As he slowly lost his consciousness, he whispered weakly, “God, wake me up in your garden..”

  Meanwhile, at The Pentagon, Arlington

  The sterile aroma of ozone and recycled air fills the building, as the people inside walk tirelessly towards their destination. There are no words spoken here, only the endless noise of footsteps and the quiet throb of hidden machinery. This is the New Pentagon, retrofitted, and prepared for a new era.

  The corridors stretch on and on like arteries, endless and sleek, alive with millions of data, codes, names, and state-classified information of the United States. Inside one of the office rooms, lies LTG Anthony Freeman, and his Aide-DE-camp, MAJ Glen Harper.

  Glen, holding a report hologram, trembles. The situation in Kiev hasn’t been going well, and his superior demands better results after already doing a precisely calculated charge.. not. He slowly reads the text displayed, shaking his hands and nearly dropping it. “What’s the hold up, Major!?” Anthony demands in anger.

  “Apologies, sir..” Glen spoke out, his voice barely heard by his officer. “The offensive… at Petrivka was a…” Glen stops, his mind racing with thoughts as to how Anthony reacts to this. But before he could even finish his sentence, Anthony lets out a sigh, and leans towards his chair.

  “It was a major failure, wasn’t it?” He asks in disappointment. Glen nervously nods.

  “Damn it..” Anthony pulls on his nasal bridge. “And how many died during the assault?”

  “..We have an estimated 1,000 wounded, Lieutenant General. And another 350 dead.”

  Anthony puts his hand on his face. It’s another loss, another major loss for the army, in this never ending war of attrition. While the air force are conducting Project Thunderbird using materials from god knows where, he is stuck with the same old vehicles and men, blindly charging towards the Russians in Europe. He toyed with the ideas of cyborgs, of massive machinery attacking enemy lines, but even they were destroyed by the enemy’s own. He began to imagine a god-like soldier with god-like powers fighting in the front lines. But such dreams can only be a mythological epic..

  Then, an idea struck him. Just a shy few years before this war, a Native American community discovered the deceased gigantic corpse of what seems to be an actual God, hidden in the Rockies of Wind River Reservation. Testing before the war has shown that not even a bomb can actually damage the flesh, and it can regenerate shortly if it ever gets damaged.

  Could it possibly be used to replace a human’s flesh? He thinks to himself. Another idea struck his brain once more.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Major.” Anthony calls to him in a stern voice.

  “Yes?” Glen responded.

  “I’d like you to find any recently deceased personnel, find any who are known to have complete loyalty to the military, and lastly…”

  “Make sure the DoD gets to know what I have in mind.”

  Ash Valley Experimental Complex, Texas

  It has been a month since the comatose of SGT Smith Johnson.

  The bright morning sky hugs the vast expanse of the Great Plains. Underneath it, lies the largest Proving Ground of the US, encompassing the area of former county Loving. It was once known as the lowest inhabited county. After it’s abandonment by most residents, the government immediately used the free land to conduct their shady experiments. Cyborgs, state-of-the-art, military technology and genetically enhanced soldiers have all been created in this very Experimental Complex.

  But today, the greatest experiment is about to conducted on Stoneveil Building, on the east side of the complex.

  Inside the spacious Chamber 9, where many of the cybernetic and genetic modifications happen, lies the comatose yet still alive body and brain of the Sergeant, Smith Johnson. Near him is a separated block of an ugly combination, made of the God-flesh, God-skin, and God-muscle, weighing just as much as the man himself, as well as a pair of carved God-bones. Above him is a remote-operated machine, designed to finely cut the flesh in the microscopic level, as if a butler is preparing a steak.

  The stale aroma of medical tools and steel fill the air, as surgeons and doctors outside prepare for the operation, while others cling to their prayers.

  Overlooking from above Chamber 9 is the Viewing chamber, as Lieutenant General, Anthony Freeman and Secretary of Defense, Calvert Maxwell look below towards the body of the comatose soldier.

  “I must say, Lieutenant General.” The SecDef asks, “You are one lucky man to gain my acceptance on this… project.” In truth, Calvert initially had ethical concerns regarding the whole “turning man into god” experiment, more so on the outlook it will give to the United States if it ever goes out of control, or be discovered by the public. However, persuasion and shown an alternative to the already severely postponed Project Thunderbird, had made him desperate for a super weapon designed to obliterate the Eastern Bloc.

  “Trust me on this, Mr. Secretary,” Anthony replied, “Project Stoneheart will succeed. And soon, we’ll win this damned war in no time!” However, even then, the LTG had his own concerns, particularly that if it fails, the millions of greenbacks wasted on this will cause his removal from the position.

  Just then, the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing it’s intentions without care for the coming event that is about to occur afterwards.

  “All medical personnel assigned to Project ‘Stoneheart’ are to enter Chamber 9.”

  A flow of surgeons and doctors flood the chamber as soon as the loudspeaker ceases, with their assistants carrying trolleys, decorated with the finest operating tools, from the comically large, to the microscopic in size. As all of this is happening Secretary Calvert and Lieutenant Anthony both looked below with nervousness and eagerness, the two expressions meeting each other like oil and water.

  Surgeons began to prepare and activate the machine above Smith, as it whirred and sang to life. As the assistants cut off chunks of the divine amalgamation block, and placed it on the trolley, the machines began cutting off chunks of what remained of Smith, creating square holes into the body, and filling those holes with square chunks of the divine block.

  This isn’t like any other surgery however, as the surgeons up their pace to prevent the divine block from suddenly regenerating and merging back to the human body, making their careful hard work to waste. The onlookers from above watched with nervousness and fear, only crossing their fingers for the best. The process lasted a grueling and sweat-producing 7 minutes, as the surgeons move like light particles, trying their best to immediately replace the man’s body, while not harming the brain.

  What was left is a pair of divine skeleton, covered in a thick layer of the divine’s skin, muscle and flesh. The brain was carefully placed by artificial, sterile metallic hands into an opening in the head, as it was slowly placed sideways into the body. As soon as the man placed it, the skin, bone and flesh covered it immediately, removing any trace of the opening whatsoever.

  Suddenly, a bright flash of light filled the room, penetrating the protective glasses, and lit up the entire chamber. And in just a second, it was gone. And there was silence. Until the unpredictable happened.

  At first, it was the usual effects, as the body slowly began to mimic the human form, forming proper skin and organs, as well as flesh and muscle. However, as if instantly, a slight jolt in one of the fingers, and then the foot, and then the entire body jolted. And suddenly, the eyelids opened brightly like a door kicked open.

  Arise, Son of Man.

  It was funny. At first, he felt like he was floating in an endless void. He felt nothing, thought of nothing, but he knew. He wasn’t dead. Or this is what death feels like. Either way, he didn’t care. He wasn’t in the world he knew, with the pain he felt for most of his life. He can sleep peacefully here, and never care about anything anymore.

  This is what he dreamed of long before. But good things aren’t supposed to last.

  Smith was in the middle of doing his average routine, sleeping. It’s one of the many things he missed when the war started. As a sergeant, he’d be awake for 3 days at maximum thanks to constant artillery barrages, and patrolling. Today, he isn’t really expecting anything, as for the last month. However something is about to happen.

  At first, there was of course, nothing like usual. No sound, no light, no pain, just a void.

  Then, a noise appeared. The sound of clanking, that grew louder and louder. And then, blurry shapes appeared, ones he cannot even describe. It was like a combination of the basic shapes, then morphing into abstract forms. And then, he felt his body. Unfamiliar, pained, and full.

  Smith jolted awake from the coma as he rises into an upright position, legs crawled up to his torso. He looked around. There were surgeons, and doctors. He’d assumed he just got enhanced, but he can feel everything. Just not in the way he’d expect. His hand jolted fast, and nearly slapped his face. He slowly moved it across his face, then his torso, and his arms. This is real skin. Nothing was enhanced. What is going on?

  And then he heard something, once more. The sound of a speaker.

  “Welcome back, Sergeant.”