A cold steel bench with narrow gutters to drain blood sat lit by five strong overhead lights, on it, a body. Lifeless. The hue of its skin looked like arctic ice flows. Pale white marbled with rivers of deep blue. An array of pneumatic saws and drills dangled down from the ceiling, like a macabre mobile. The Doctor, standing at the feet of the cadaver, picked up a worn folder from the basket at the foot of the table. She took her time reading it. Her smile grew more full as she did, after a minute of silence, through her smug smile she said 'Oh Perfect.'
With that, she replaced the folder and zipped up her white rubber suit. She walked to the opposite end of the table and looked down at the face. It seemed peaceful. Good. This harvest will be abundant.
She reached above her head and, without looking, pulled down a small circular saw. She pumped the trigger twice, and it hummed to life. She lowered it to the cadaver on the table, cutting right across the forehead. Skin tore, bone ripped. It took some time for blood to begin to leak, but once it started, it flowed, slower than you'd expect, but it was steady. She removed the cranium with a tiny pop, the sound surprised her the first time she heard it, ever since it's done nothing but amuse her. Recently, that sound has meant something new. That pop signified money. She took a long scalpel and dug it into the exposed brain. The sound was horrid. Flesh turning to liquid with force, like a child playing with jelly.
Yes. This was going to be a good one. Finding the edge of her prize, she carefully cut this solid matter out of the soft tissue. It was bloodied and covered in flesh. It was the size of a golf ball. When the doctor noticed the size, she swore out loud and skipped on the spot.
She took the object to the sink and ran it under hot water. As she removed the flesh, she exposed a brilliant stone. Amber. Golden, it changed the hue of the room as she took it back under the overhead lamps. Refracted light danced through it onto all surfaces around the room. Sure it pretty, but not what she was looking for. She wanted what was at the core. She took out an eyepiece and lodged it in her socket, she screwed up he face to get it to stick, now she just looked maniacal. She held the stone up and looking through it she sighed.
It was beautiful.
She’d found this person's most precious memory. Playing like a movie inside the amber. They died, clinging onto this memory. This one was a simple moment. A sunny park, two people laying down on lush grass laughing looking at the clouds dance into scene after scene. Then the woman grabs the man's hand, and they fall silent. For just a second, then their heads drop toward each other, and they stare silently into each other's eyes. Pop. Stop. Replay. Over and over again. A perfect memory.
Yes. The Memory Collectors would pay handsomely for this one. She reached up without looking and pulled a small cord. The lights went out, she bounded through the two-way doors and was gone. Now it was pitch black, all that was left to hear was the ever slowing dripping an empty corpse leaking.