RE: The image is made of own imagination and thoughts

A short story of science fiction

It all began on that cold Wednesday night, I was sitting alone in my office watching the rain fall over the far streets outside, when the phone rang.
She was the only wife of Akram Siddiqui. She appeared to be in a state of panic. Both she and Akram had a late dinner alone in their apartment when the front door suddenly burst and six men rushed into helmets with helmets. The men were armed and made Akram and Jihan lying face down on the floor as they searched Akram's pockets for his driver's license. One of them carefully examined Akram's face as he compared it to the official photograph and then murmured: "It is exactly.
The leader of the intruders showed an injection and injected Akram with something that made him lose consciousness almost immediately. For some reason, they merely linked Jihan and Kemmha. Two men left the room and returned with a suit and white jackets. They put Akram on a stretcher, wore white jackets, and carried him out of the apartment, leaving Jehan lying on the floor. I tried to flip in the direction of the window to see them in time as they put Akram in an ambulance and drive her away.
As she called me, Ceyhan was torn from anger and exhaustion. It took several hours to get rid of her restrictions, and then I called the police. Instead of uniformed officers, two plainclothes officers arrived without even examining the crime scene. They continued to tell her that they had nothing to do and that if she knew what was in their favor, she had to keep her mouth closed. If she protested, they would spread it crazy and she would not see it. Her husband never again.
Without knowing what to do, she called Jihan B. She was thinking so carefully that she noticed the ambulance number, and I did not find it very difficult to follow her to a private clinic on the outskirts of the city when she arrived at the clinic, surprised that she was impregnable like a fort.
There were guards at the gate and it was surrounded by a huge wall. I was angrily overcrowded on the wall, which was rising towards the two towers, avoiding the barbed wire. The windows on the ground floor were barred, but I succeeded in winding a winding road on a drainage pipe until it reached a window on the second floor that had been left partially open for some reason.
I found myself in a laboratory when I heard muffled sounds behind the second door. I was squinted through the keyhole and saw what looked like a complete operating room and a surgical team working on Akram. The latter was covered with a blanket from the neck to the bottom of his body, and it seems that they were carrying anabiba and a basket. When I realized that they had removed the top of the skull of Akram and to my horror, one of the surgeons arrived at the open top in the head of Akram and pulled out his brain easily, putting it in a stainless steel hemispherical container. The pipes and wires that I observed earlier were connected to the separate brain About the body. The surgeons took the blood mass (brain) carefully to a type of glass tank (cylindrical container) and lowered it into it. The first idea I wish I stumbled upon in a future Satanic League gets their strength from the anatomy of the neighborhoods. My second thought was that Akram was an insurance agent and this was probably their way of earning even for increases in their bad insurance rates. If they did it every Wednesday night, their rates would not rise any more! My thoughts stopped when the light suddenly appeared in the dark of my hiding place and I found myself looking up at the group of terrified medical men I had never seen before. They treated me in the next room and fixed me on an operating table.

I thought, What's going on? what happens? Is the turn on now!

The doctors crowded at the other end of the room but I could not manage my head enough to see what they were doing. They murmured among themselves, perhaps they would decide my fate. Suddenly she opened the door and heard the voice of a woman.

The distinguished behavior that dominated the medical practitioners made it clear that the woman was the woman. I struggled to see that mysterious woman but she was far from a field of view. Then she went and stopped in front of me and realized that she was my secretary. I wished then that I had been given Christmas decorations.

It was a fulfillment, but it was a different fulfillment than I had ever seen. She was enjoying the power of power as she bent over me, saying:

Saladin, you think you are very intelligent, and you follow Akram even here in the clinic.

She continued:

It was just a trick to bring you here, and I've seen what happened to Akram, which is not really dead. As you may realize that these gentlemen are the first neuroscientists in the world now. They have developed an operation that removes the brain from the body but keeps it alive in a container of nutrients. As you know, no administration or association will allow this process, but we will present it to them. Do you see all these wires that reach the brain of Akram? It connects it to a strong computer and displays the computer outputs of the brain of the brain of the movement and gives input to the brain brain of the senses until everything appears very natural for your friend Akram. The computer produces a fantasy mental life that is fully integrated into his past life so he is not aware of what happened to him. He thinks he is shaving his beard now and is preparing to go to the office.

"I'm going to publish it, but we need some people who are first tested. It was easy to get to Akram but to really test our computer program we need someone who has lived a more exciting and unique life. Someone like you, Salahuddin