Now... I'm sure you're wondering, as am I. How you can remain entirely conscious for a surgery. But apparently alien anesthesia doesn't exactly work all that well on humans.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I certainly can't feel much of anything, but that whole, still being conscious thing, while a mechanical crab arm is playing with your eyeball a few feet away, isn't exactly what I'd call good for my mental well-being.
Now, surely you may also be wondering, why the ever loving hell this highly advanced, almost magical device, can learn the entirety of the English language in an instant, but for some gods forgotten reason can't simply look up, or hack into, our stores of medical knowledge to properly patch up a few bullet wounds and perhaps synthesize a replacement organ, or at the very least, idk, just bring me to the nearest hospital.
Personally. I think it's just messing with me.
No, seriously. The first thing it did after injecting me with anesthesia was to start playing a tune. Some oldy from the 60s if I'm not mistaken, Sugar pie honey bunch
Makes for a rather jarring scene, a mechanical crab like thing, dancing to a 60s hit song, while running your eyeball through some sort of scanner repeatedly. Did I forget to mention it's still attached to my optical nerve.
Oh seems it found something interesting. Wait! what are you doing with those scissors!
Welp, I've always wondered what I'd look like as a pirate. Call me Captain-Scatter-pants, Don't mind the mess, I'll pick myself up eventually.
Of course, the mechanical crab doesn't get my humor, or well, you know, can't read my mind. But it does seem like it's interest has moved to some capsule looking thing that just popped out of the wall. Looks like some sort of blinking golf-ball.
New name, Captain-High-beams. Sporting a new, swaggy, L-E-D blinking, Infer-red and Ultru-violet sensing cyborg eye!
Rather impressive how it managed the whole operation within the span of a single 60s jamming montage.
I think I'll call the mechanical medical crab "Montage" as it seems to finish most of its best work in time span of individual jam-fests. It... they... she... he? lets say he, it doesn't exactly exude a feminine air.
Anyways. Montage seems to have moved from remodeling my face to putting back a few things even I've long since forgotten about. Oh hey, my Liver! Well, my "New-Liver."
Oh and My new shins, I was wondering where those went. Looking good chrome-bones!
----------------------------------------
ᖱ𝖮𝖮, ᖙ𝖮ᗝ, ᖱᗝᗝ, ᖙᗝᗝ
Surgery complete!
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Congratulations on your successful recovery!
Thanks, it only took 10 hours. But I feel... great! But more importantly!
"FINALLY! I CAN SCRATCH MY NOSE!"
I don't know what it was, but right before it finished the surgery, it slathered this extremely irritating goo all over me, from my tippy top, to the tippy of my toes. It was worse than slapping yourself with after-shave while being unaware of a few Thousand micro-cuts. Then it just left me there to enjoy that feeling for a solid hour and a half.
But now, with a nose fully scratched, scrubbed and pinched, I can finally take stock of what horrible monstrosity I've become...
Odd... I was pretty sure it replaced by fingers with Many segmented vertebrae like mechanical wires... and didn't that foot have ball joints? I'm pretty sure it took out all my teeth....
"Uh.... can I get a mirror please?"
Ask and thine shall receive, apparently. It even gave me a full body mirror.
The body reflected is, of course... me. cheap reporters Suit and Solid Silk tie and all... I hope it doesn't plan to charge me for dry-cleaning.
Registration nearing completion. Please enter your desired Username and select your class Job.
Class jobs available.
Artificer
Builder
Mechanic
Spy
Town Crier
Weather Mage
.... I'm sorry, did I suddenly shift genres? Wasn't this an alien space ship? Wasn't I about to go full guardians of the galaxy? Men in black? Alien Vs Predator?.... HAL 9000? What's this about becoming a weather mage?
REGISTRATION NEARING COMPLETION. PLEASE ENTER YOUR DESIRED USERNAME AND SELECT YOUR CLASS JOB.
CLASS JOBS AVAILABLE.
ARTIFICER
BUILDER
MECHANIC
SPY
TOWN CRIER
WEATHER MAGE
... Okay now you're just being pushy...
"Can I at least get a description for the jobs?"
REGISTRATION NEARING COMPLETION. PLEASE ENTER YOUR DESIRED USERNAME AND SELECT YOUR CLASS JOB.
CLASS JOBS AVAILABLE.
ARTIFICER
BUILDER
MECHANIC
SPY
TOWN CRIER
WEATHER MAGE
"Uh... Well.... Magic sounds cool. So uh.. Guess It's back to being the mild mannered Weather boy Peter Parkinson."
Thank you for registering with the Celestial Court
Weather Mage Peter Parkinson
Your racial statistics have been updated and your universal ID has been successfully entered into our system.
We wish you luck on your journey, and thank you for Volunteering in the Celestial Tournament.
May you bring honor to your planets people and raise your peoples rank in the Celestial Court.
... Okay I'm starting to suspect I may be in less of an Alien flick and more an "Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic / Digimon" anime... With a bit more, biblical spin. provided they mean celestial as in heavenly gods and less Spacey celestial bodies like planets.
Unless this Celestial Court is a galactic empire... that happens to believe in magic and spartan tournaments... wait. TOURNAMENT!
"Wait, What Tournament?"
I suspect I saw a screen appear, right before my vision went white and my sense of up, down, left, purple, potatoes and spaghetti tree's went backwards to last tomorrows Tuesdays taco times tables cheese pants.....
Before being unceremoniously dropped on my face in the middle of what looks like a town square.
"I, never, want to, experience that, ever, again...."