Surgical Record of Corneal Transplantation

When Evelyn's cornea cracked into a spiderweb pattern under the microscope, Daniel's mechanical prosthetic eye was recording the nanobots floating in her iris. The frequency at which the shadowless lamp above the operating table flickered was synchronized with the five natural gas pipelines he had detonated at the stock exchange three hours ago.

"What you stole isn't an ordinary cornea," Lucas adjusted the laser scalpel to its maximum power. The blue light burned a charred smell on Evelyn's retina. "This is the artificial lens that was the last to see the pupils of Mrs. Rothschild when she was still alive."

Suddenly, an asphalt-like liquid seeped out from the radiation-proof door of the operating room. Evelyn's wrists, which were marked with blood from the restraint straps, twitched slightly. This was the muscle relaxant she had injected in advance fighting against the anesthesia – the preservative stolen from the morgue was flowing back into the infusion bag through the intravenous drip. When the laser penetrated her lens, the tiny capsule hidden in her tear gland ruptured, releasing oxidase that neutralized the laser.

"What a beautiful optic nerve," Daniel's metallic fingers fiddled with the wires connected to her eyeball. Each nerve ending was connected to the trading system of the stock exchange center. "Just like the one that was taken out from your mother back then. It's still doing the waltz in the formalin jar in my study."

Evelyn's scream triggered the voice-activated device, and the operating table suddenly flipped 180 degrees. Hanging upside down, she crashed through the glass curtain wall, and the flying fragments cut through the restraint straps. The moment she landed, the scalpel she kicked flew and precisely stabbed into Daniel's carotid artery pump. The blue coolant splashed onto the cardiac monitor, altering Lucas's iris data into the code of an executed prisoner.

"Surprised?" She dug out her left eyeball and threw it towards the ventilation opening. The vitreous body burned a route of escape on the infrared grid. "The core of this prosthetic eye you transplanted into me uses the brain stem cells of your sister."

When Lucas's sidearm shot through the liquid nitrogen tank, Evelyn was using the retinal projection to manipulate the Dow Jones Index. The freezing gas, along with half of Daniel's mechanical body, crashed into the stock exchange terminal. The NASDAQ curve suddenly turned into a diagram of the smoke spreading on the day of the chemical factory explosion. The computer screens of three hundred traders simultaneously played the surveillance footage she had tampered with: Ten-year-old Daniel was pouring cyanide into the ventilation system under his father's guidance.

"You think you can win by tampering with my memory chip?" Lucas tore open his shirt to reveal the quantum computer in his chest cavity. The surface of the chip was engraved with the entire process of Evelyn's revenge plan. "The day you came back from the battlefield in Afghanistan, the hallucinogen you put in my whiskey..." He suddenly coughed up a blood clot with a chip in it, "... just happened to activate the nano firewall in my brain."

The chandeliers in the stock exchange hall began to fall. Evelyn weaved through the rain of glass shards, and each fragment reflected a different version of the truth: Lucas holding a family photo and smiling in front of the chemical factory, Daniel's childhood diary filled with his infatuation with Evelyn, and her own medical records showing that she should have been brain-dead during the electroshock treatment in the psychiatric hospital.

"The game should be reset," she crashed through the bulletproof glass of the emergency exit. As she fell, she opened the parachute pack – the canopy was printed with the advertisement for Rothschild Biotech's human experimentation. The strong wind rushed into her empty left eye socket, and the signal transmitter hidden at the bottom of the prosthetic eye began to broadcast encrypted files to the whole city.

The surface of the lake in Central Park was covered with blood-colored ice. When Evelyn chiseled through the ice layer, the body that floated up from the bottom of the lake was wearing her old ballet dress, and the rotting fingers were clutching Daniel's composition book from primary school. Turning to the page of "My Ideal", the boy had written in red pen: "I want to be Evelyn's god and press the destruction button on each of her birthdays."

Lucas's breath sprayed on the barcode on the back of her neck: "The embryo in the uterus of your clone has DNA from a mixed sample of three people." He used the barrel of his gun to lift the flashing metal box under the ice layer. "Do you want to know who the 41st body that disappeared from the scene of the 1997 explosion was?"

Evelyn's ice pick suddenly pierced through the seam of his bulletproof vest. When Lucas's blood dripped on the ice surface and formed a pattern of an iris flower, she saw the reflection of herself at the age of nine floating up from under the ice, holding in her hands the heart corroded by cyanide – the "candy" that Daniel had given her on Halloween last year.

"All the mysteries are right here," she pressed Lucas's head into the ice hole. The reflection on the water surface suddenly turned into a live surveillance feed: Deep in the ruins of the chemical factory, three hundred clones were simultaneously undergoing corneal transplantation surgery, and each newly replaced pair of eyes was playing a different revenge script.

A series of explosions came from the direction of the stock exchange center. Evelyn knew that this was the last trap she had set in advance: When the NASDAQ index fell below the value she had set, the miniature nuclear reactor buried in Daniel's mechanical spine would overload. She softly apologized to the body under the ice layer, only to find that she was using Lucas's voiceprint frequency.

When the searchlights of the police helicopter illuminated the lake surface, Evelyn had already changed into an emergency medical worker's uniform. The receiver behind her ear suddenly rang with Daniel's dying groan, mixed with the sound of the short-circuiting mechanical parts: "You... you are father's most perfect work..."

At this moment, the refrigerated cabinet in the morgue automatically opened. Evelyn looked at the eyeball that was regrowing in her left eye socket, and the iris pattern was gradually showing the Rothschild family crest. The body under the ice layer suddenly opened its eyes, and the rotting vocal cords vibrated, emitting the voice of her mother: "Dear, it's time to dance the last dance."