Pain is just a collection of electrical signals until a foreign machine starts digging around inside your soul to steal the code.
The high frequency tracking dart buried in Arthur sternum hummed with a vicious, rhythmic vibration that paralyzed every single muscle in his body. He collapsed onto his side, his cheek pressed against the cold courtyard stones while his eyes locked into a wide, unblinking stare. The blue digital light from the needle flared brightly, actively downloading the raw, volatile cosmic energy data from his fractured spirit core and beaming it straight up to the Reykjavik database through the shuttle tracking dish.
"The transmission density is perfect," Ethan Vance observed, stepping closer while checking the scrolling lines of green code on his silver tablet screen.
