James Swallow: Ghost in the Shell: The Official Movie Novelization

In the future, the line between human and machine is disappearing. Advancements in technology allow humans to enhance themselves with cybernetic parts.

Hanka Robotics, funded by the government, is developing a military operative that will blur the line even further. By transplanting a human brain into a fully synthetic body, they will combine the strongest attributes of human and robot.

Who am I?

The question terrified her. It made all the rest of her confusion trivial. She did not know where she was, how she had gotten here, what had happened before.

She also knew that she was being moved, not under her own power. She was being propelled steadily forward. The movement was smooth, and she could see what was above her, so she must be on her back. She could not even tell whether she was in pain. Something was surely wrong with her. She was in a white long-sleeved robe made of some light fabric that didn’t keep the cold out. She felt like she could not sit up, could not swing her legs. And her breathing wasn’t normal. There was some sort of mask over her nose and mouth. The air circulating through it didn’t taste right.

There were people around her, on both sides and running along after, all of them dressed in medical gloves, hoods, and protective masks, all colored bright arterial red. As a group, the med team looked like a swarm of red corpuscles, flowing through a vein made of white industrial tile. They all had visors on, each one running a steady stream of holographic data before the medics’ eyes.

The medical team also wore hard black semi-vests over their coats, all with a yellow Hanka logo on the back. One man, not part of the team, was wearing a dark suit. He stood to the side, letting the others rush past.

Had she been in an accident? She couldn’t remember. She managed to get up one hand to pull her mask off, but a red-gloved hand grasped her wrist and put it down on the gurney, and she didn’t have the strength to raise it a second time. There was something made of plastic circling her wrist, though she couldn’t bring it up to where she could see it. The object was a clear wristband with a yellow tag that that read PROJECT 2751.

A woman’s voice calmly announced over the PA system, “Oxygen levels are dropping.” And indeed, she was having trouble breathing. What was wrong? Was she dying? She was aware of her gurney passing through an archway and stopping inside a room.

“Brain function normal,” said the woman over the PA system.

So perhaps she didn’t have brain damage. But then why wouldn’t any clear memories come to her?

And then the room dimmed and thought ceased, so she did not hear the next announcement over the PA system. “Cerebral salvage ready to proceed.”

In the operating room, technology reigned supreme. Each piece of cybernetic equipment, gleaming-edged tools and lasers too thin for eyes to track and translucent strands of delicate-looking but powerful transmitters, all moved without the aid of human hands around the young woman, preparing her for the upcoming procedure.

Project 2571’s scalp was peeled back cleanly, the skull opened and the brain removed, but the only humans at work were several rooms away, programming the surgical devices moving in a complicated ballet of exacting incisions and removal.

The subject’s human brain, gold techno-enhancements faintly visible against the pink organic matter, was contained cleanly in a black synthetic brain case, which was stamped with the Hanka logo, even though this would not be seen by anyone unless the project terminated. When the brain had been temporarily stabilized and the rest of the associated organic matter had been disposed of, the PA system again broadcast updates of the procedure. “Robotic skeleton prepared and waiting for brain insertion. Initiate Project Two-Five-Seven-One.”

Imagine a synthesis of both things, of mechanism and human. Call it cyborg . A blending of organic intellect and mechanical perfection, biology’s ultimate living computer encased within technology’s ultimate physical form. Mind and machine in perfect harmony.

In the Hanka Robotics Corporation, there was a chamber known as the Shelling Room. No humans ever entered it. Every action was completed with rote perfection by synthetic intelligences and flawless computer programs. What took place within the space was of such incredible complexity that a mere human could not hope to control it. Only the machines could truly birth another of their kind. Only they were able to assemble the mechanism with infinite precision and unerring patience.

Deep in a tank of dark liquid, a vertical humanoid skeleton, painstakingly constructed by Hanka scientists, gleamed in the low light. Over the skeletal form made of titanium alloy and hyper-density polymers, artificial organs were placed, gathered in such a way that their functions could both emulate and exceed those of a human. Across the assemblage, a complex web of thread-thin mech-nerves were overlaid and twinned with myomer muscle groups, vat-grown in zero-gravity. Tendrils of composite organic and synthetic materials reached up from the skeleton to connect with compatible translucent filaments reaching down from the incoming brain case.

The mecha-composite slowly began to resemble something human, something feminine, but only in the most abstract sense. It was a diagram from an anatomy book, a skinless horror.

The artificial shell was suspended, adrift and without life or mind. The skull—a layered device, petal upon petal of armored metal and electroactive polymer—unfastened gently. A clockwork action, a music box opening, the petals peeled back until the empty void within was fully revealed.

Cables guided Project 2571’s human brain into this new housing. The shroud of meat and bone that it had animated was now gone. The pink matter was swallowed whole by the artificial cranium.

When the cables had released the brain case, the skull closed and the entire body was released to float downward to the bottom of the tank. From inside the surface of the brain case, innumerable fiber-optic tendrils unfurled and quested forth to pierce the protective sack. Connections fused into the biological tissue, building unique neural linkages and bridging the gap between the flesh and the metal. The fibers merged themselves with the dendrites and synapses of the living cerebellum. The interface was completed.

The surgery could have taken place in total darkness, but the scientists felt the need to observe, making sure it was all going as planned. A few red lights within the tank provided illumination for those watching through the viewing portals.

The flow of conductive liquid in the tank was now orchestrated to turn the body onto its back. The pressure pushed the human-shaped form into another tank, this one lit red. Here it was coated with a white substance, a quarter-inch-thick layer of a white cellular/plastic compound that set over the entire body, allowing the layers of skin and flesh and electronics to fuse undisturbed. Each millimeter contained microscopic biomechanical circuitry that would enable the brain and its host to complete tasks that neither machinery nor humanity on its own could ever achieve. Then the body floated upward in the chamber, gravity turned off so there was no point of contact between the floor and the forming epidermis.