Dr. Thorne's Cybernetic Opera

The circuit burns beneath the silver skin. A hollow pulse begins to beat within. The wires crawl like vines across the bone. A king is carved upon a graphite throne. The static screams across the empty hall. The shadows stretch against the sterile wall. The data flows like blood through plastic veins. The master comes to break the ancient chains. Dr. Alistair Thorne, the grand design. Where cold machines and human souls entwine. The spark of gods within a silicon cage. The final words upon a dying page. The needle sinks into the velvet deep. While all the ghosts of evolution sleep. A thousand eyes are blinking in the dark. To catch a glimpse of this celestial spark. He weaves the code into a golden strand. To hold the future in his steady hand. The binary is all that will remain. To wash away the memory of pain. The glass will break. The heart will wake. For mercy’s sake. The soul he’ll take. Dr. Alistair Thorne, the grand design. Where cold machines and human souls entwine. The spark of gods within a silicon cage. The final words upon a dying page. The operation is complete. The transition is absolute.