Rex Salazar: The Omnissiah Chapter 15 (Early Preview)

Chapter 15: Sanctity of Flesh

The factory floor remained silent as workers stared at Rex. 

A tech-priest supervisor stepped forward. "Return to your stations. The production cycle must continue."

The workers glanced between the supervisor and Rex and hesitated. A few made the sign of the cog and murmured, "The Omnissiah's hands saved them. His divine limbs manifested before us."

Rex raised his voice. "Nobody is going back to work. Not until we check the rest of this entire section to make sure it’s safe for you guys."

The supervisor froze with confusion. "Honored Omnissiah, production cycles have never been halted mid-sequence. The sacred rhythm of manufacture must not be interrupted."

"It is now." Rex pointed to the damaged power coupling above them. "Look at that. It could have killed those workers. How many other death traps are waiting to collapse around here?"

Workers exchanged glances of fear and hope. One older man with augmented fingers clutched his prayer beads tighter.

Fabricator-General Valus observed from several meters away. The other Council members shifted uncomfortably beside him.

"These people matter." Rex gestured to the gathered workers. "They deserve safety and basic respect. Their lives count more than your production numbers."

No one spoke for several moments. The concept seemed alien to the tech-priests who struggled to process such prioritization.

Rex walked to the collapsed walkway and ran his hand along a twisted support beam. Blue light pulsed beneath his skin as his nanites analyzed the metal. He pulled away a section of the corroded beam, holding it up for all to see. 

"The tension strength of this metal is way weaker than it should be for a support." Rex tossed the fragment aside. It clattered across the floor. "These patchwork repairs were never meant to last. This whole section has been neglected for years."

The workers nodded in silence to what they had always known but never dared say.

"That's an order from your Omnissiah." Rex stood tall, his voice carrying through the factory. "We’re checking everything before work resumes."

Ryza-Tal leaned closer to Valus. "The implications for our Mechanicum doctrine are concerning."

Valus nodded slightly. "Remember the prophecies, old friend. The Omnissiah shall walk among us, and his coming shall remake the face of Mars."

Rex knelt beside a worker with a missing arm, speaking quietly to her. The woman's eyes widened at whatever he said, hope replacing her habitual resignation.

"He speaks of efficiency in protecting flesh." Ferris-Keph's mechadendrites twitched nervously. "As if the biological components hold equal value to the machines."

"Heresy?" whispered one younger magos.

"Perhaps it is something we were too blind to see," Valus countered. "We shall observe and learn. The Omnissiah tests our understanding."

Rex crouched beside the rescued worker. The man smelled of machine oil and fear. "Are you hurt?" Rex kept his voice low.

The man shook his head too fast. "No, Omnissiah. I am fine. I am fine." 

He, in fact, was not. Rex easily saw that his pupils were dilated and that his hands were trembling.

Rex helped him stand, and the man felt alarmingly light. On second inspection, he was almost skin and bones. He thought back to those commercials about donating to those in need. Now he regrets not helping before. "What's your name?"

"Davin, Omnissiah." The words barely carried over the machinery noise. His voice sounded rough, unused to anything but work chants and prayers.

"You have a family, Davin?"

"A wife and daughter."

Rex nodded. "They need you in one piece." He turned to examine the press nearby, anger building inside him. This wasn't some inevitable accident. This was neglect.

He placed both hands on its frame. The metal felt warm against his palms. Blue light spread from his hands through the machine as he activated his nanites. They flowed into every crack and joint, analyzing, repairing, improving everything they touched. Rex could feel the machine's workings through his connection. The nanites strengthened weak points, adjusted timing mechanisms, and added safety features.

The press hummed differently when Rex stepped back. The harsh grinding changed to a smooth mechanical rhythm. "It's safer now. I added emergency stops and reinforced the guide rails. It will shut down before someone gets hurt if anything goes wrong."

Workers gathered at a distance, whispering among themselves. Rex noticed that Davin was limping as he stepped forward. A crude mechanical leg peeked out from beneath his worn work pants, the augmetic looking barely functional, with visible signs of infection around the connection points.

Rex glanced down at Davin's augmetic leg. "How long have you had that prosthetic?"

Davin looked down at his leg. "Twenty-three years, Omnissiah. It was a gift from my wife's labor team after the accident. Before she transferred to the stamping section." He ran his hand along the worn metal. "I have repaired it hundreds of times myself. Each repair kept me working another day."

Rex understood immediately. He smiled faintly. "May I?" He gestured toward the leg.

Davin hesitated but nodded. "If the Omnissiah wills it."

Rex knelt and placed his hand on the augmetic. Blue light pulsed from his palm into the crude prosthetic. His nanites flowed through the mechanical limb, smoothing its inner structure and removing the feedback delay that caused the man's awkward gait. They strengthened its frame and sealed the connection ports to prevent further infection.

Davin's eyes widened as he felt the change. He flexed his mechanical foot, then took an experimental step. The limp was gone. He moved the joint through its full range of motion without pain for the first time in decades.

A murmur rippled through the gathered workers and tech-priests. The Omnissiah himself had personally attended to the augmetics of a common laborer. Many unconsciously touched their own augmetics, their eyes filled with barely concealed envy for Davin's blessing. Several workers inched closer, as if proximity might grant them similar favor.

The factory supervisors huddled near their data slates, fingers moving rapidly as they updated records. One leaned toward another and whispered, "The worker designation must be amended. The Omnissiah-blessed cannot remain in standard classification." The other nodded in agreement, already recalculating Davin's social status to reflect his new standing.

Among the Council members, Ryza-Tal's mechadendrites twitched with interest. He glanced down at his own augmented left arm, an old war wound never perfectly calibrated. For a moment, he considered requesting the Omnissiah's touch for himself. Beside him, Ferris-Keph seemed to harbor similar thoughts. They exchanged glances with an unspoken agreement. Their requests for a blessing could wait. The Omnissiah would surely reward his loyal followers in time.

Davin looked up at Rex with new understanding. "Does this mean the Machine God does not desire our suffering?" His voice was stronger now, but still uncertain.

Rex looked at him, then at the dozens of injured workers throughout the factory floor. He saw missing fingers, burn scars, improvised braces, and hollow eyes. His mind raced. What could he say that would make sense to these people? They'd spent generations believing pain was somehow holy.

"Pain doesn't honor anybody," he began, buying time while he searched for something that sounded appropriately profound. He glanced at a worker struggling to lift components with a partially mechanical hand. "Your knowledge, experience, skill, those honor the machines." That sounded good. Maybe add something practical they would understand? "A worker who survives produces more than one who dies."

Rex held his breath. Had that sounded as improvised as it felt? He stated the obvious, but tried to make it sound like ancient wisdom.

To his surprise, the concept troubled and fascinated them. Whispers spread through the crowd. Some made the sign of the cog again, but hesitantly.

Valus stood still, the lenses of his eyes contracting slightly. "Your wisdom challenges our understanding, Omnissiah." His tone remained neutral.

Rex kept his expression calm, hiding his relief. Apparently, stating simple truths sounded like a profound revelation to people who had never questioned their assumptions.

Rex looked back at the other council members who remained passive about everything they'd seen. None of them seemed affected by the near-death they had witnessed or the conditions surrounding them. 

He gritted his teeth. The anger inside him grew, but he knew a direct confrontation wouldn't work. These people had spent centuries believing this doctrine. "This factory will be the first to implement the new protocols. Bring me your injured. I will demonstrate what true communion with the machine means."

Workers looked at each other, uncertain. Then Davin spoke up again.

"My wife, she lost her hand last year. She cannot work without a replacement. We barely survive on my wages alone."

Rex nodded. "Bring her tomorrow. I will show you that no one will get left behind.

The Fabricator-General inclined his head slightly. A concession, or perhaps merely acknowledgment. Either way, Rex had taken his first real step toward changing Mars.

#

The cleanup efforts continued around them for the next hour. 

Rex directed teams to secure the damaged areas while Valus ordered records to be compiled of all safety violations throughout the facility. 

Tech-priests guided some to remove debris while other workers returned to their stations. Rex surveyed the scene, watching as safety inspections began on his orders.

A small figure caught his attention, half-hidden behind a cluster of pipes. A child, no older than fourteen, crouched on the floor. The boy's hands shook as he moved delicate components, inserting them into a complex mechanism.

Rex paused beside him. "How long have you been doing this work?"

"Since I was seven, Omnissiah." The boy continued his task without looking up. "I'm the smallest. I can reach the inner components."

Rex felt a bit sick. Child labor wasn't a new concept. He knew about sweatshops in China during his time, reports of children working sixteen-hour days, sometimes getting injured by machinery. But this... this was magnitudes worse. 

He tried to rationalize it. Different time, different culture. Who was he to judge these people by his standards? 

Granted, he was technically a child soldier raised to fight EVOs, but that was a unique circumstance he was reluctant to admit. At least Providence cared enough to try to let me have a decent enough childhood and social life. 

But the sight of this child's trembling hands working inches from exposed gears and superheated components made his rationalization fall apart. He was their God, dammit.

How does one change a cult? Confronting the Mechanicum directly might undermine his authority, and he needed their cooperation.

Still, this was simply wrong, regardless of context. He'd seen workers dragging themselves to their stations with missing limbs. He'd seen infection, malnutrition, injury as standard conditions. And now children, treated as disposable parts themselves.

"Children shouldn't be in factories, but in school. Learning the skills to work in the factory eventually..." He paused. "Wait." Now that Rex thought about it, he would have to look into the workforce opportunities for the serf class. He wanted the scope of their future to be more than just a factory or a farm. Rex shook his head and returned his attention to the boy.

Now that Rex looked closer, the boy wore an adult uniform that hung from his thin frame. He coughed harshly and favored his right leg when he moved.

"Hey, what's your name?"

The boy looked up, startled. He tried to stand but steadied himself against the wall. "Venn, lord. Forgive me. I will return to work immediately."

"Hold on." Rex gestured for the boy to stay put.

As Venn coughed again, Rex noticed the unnatural bulge beneath his shirt. The fabric shifted oddly with each labored breath. Metal protruded from beneath his collar, crude interface ports embedded directly into pale skin.

Rex felt a pit in his stomach deepening into an abyss. Taking a chance, he used his nanites to scan the child's biometrics. What he found disturbed him deeply. The boy's internal conditions were poor. His development during puberty was severely stunted and likely permanent if his condition remained. Years of toxic exposure had damaged his organs beyond what any child should ever experience. They had literally worked parts of his humanity away and replaced it with metal.

Whatever doubts Rex had about intervening vanished. Some moral lines shouldn't be crossed, regardless of culture or time. This had to end.

One Medicae scanned Venn with a green light. "Subject: functional. Productivity: sixty-three percent below baseline. Recommendation: continue monitoring." He  turned to leave. Rex put a hand on its shoulder, stopping it.

"What happened to him?"

"Archive access: Subject Venn. Age: fourteen standard years. Incident report filed three years prior. Respiratory collapse following exposure to molten slag. Augmetic replacement of thirty-two percent of pulmonary tissue. Augmetic partial replacement of liver tissue. Secondary complications: ongoing."

Rex knelt beside Venn. Green-tinged fluid seeped through the boy's shirt. His augmetics were failing.

"Don't you have medical facilities here?" Rex asked, anger rising.

Ryza-Tal stepped forward. "The boy's productivity remains within acceptable parameters despite complications."

"Acceptable parameters." Rex's voice went cold. "He can barely breathe." The words Caesar had spoken to him years ago echoed in Rex's mind. The nanites were supposed to improve human lives. They could cure diseases, grow cells, and regenerate bones. 

He turned to Venn. "I can help you. Would you like me to repair your augmetics, or remove them completely?"

"Remove them? But without them, I would die."

"Not necessarily. I can help your body heal itself."

Venn looked up. "I just want to breathe again."

Rex nodded. "I understand." He placed his hands on the child's head.

Blue light spread from Rex's hands. The nanites infiltrated the failing augmetics and organic tissue. They purged toxins, repaired cells, and dissolved the metal implants.

Venn gasped. The sickly color faded from his skin.

"I can breathe." He touched his chest.

Rex thought of his parents. They wanted the Nanite Project to end hunger, eliminate illness, and extend human life.

After the Nanite Event created EVOs and his global cure, people still feared having nanites in their bodies. His parents' vision stalled amid global fear.

Now that he saw Venn breathe freely, Rex felt his purpose return. This was what his parents wanted. The nanites were meant for healing, not for use as weapons or for control. In this distant future, he would fulfill their original mission. He would keep their dream alive here, where it was needed most.

The Tech-Priests looked at each other, then dropped to their knees. A wave of whispers rolled through the assembled workers: "A second blessing!" "First Davin, now the boy!" The Mechanicum had witnessed their Omnissiah personally attend to a laborer's augmetics earlier that day, but now he had blessed a child. The significance was not lost on anyone present. 

"He restores the flesh of Man," whispered a worker.

"Praise to the Omnissiah, master of flesh and steel," another responded.

Ferris-Keph began reciting binary prayers. Others joined, creating an electronic chorus.

Rex helped Venn to his feet. The boy walked confidently, no longer favoring his leg.

The Fabricator-General approached. "The texts speak of the Omnissiah as the perfect synthesis of man and machine. We assumed this meant only mastery over metal. We never considered..."

"That I could heal people, too?" Rex completed the thought.

"Such power is truly in the Omnissiah’s will." Valus made the sign of the cog.

Rex watched as workers reached toward Venn to confirm the miracle with their own hands. The boy smiled, perhaps for the first time in years.

The Mechanicum had witnessed their Omnissiah manipulate machines, but this was different. This was a revelation that challenged centuries of doctrine.

Valus turned to his council. "Omnissiah, we must reconsider much."

To be frank, Rex's patience wore out. "You know what? That's it. We're shutting down. Everything. The whole factory. For the rest of today, I’m fixing this nightmare."

The tech priests stared. The chief enginseer stammered about production quotas. Rex cut him off with a gesture.

Rex moved through the factory, the head priests following, watching his every move.

The day stretched long. Morning brought basic fixes. By midday, he was redesigning entire assembly processes. His nanites improved and implemented new designs.

The tech priests scurried behind him, taking notes as millennia of tradition were rewritten.

The factory transformed faster as the priests caught on. 

Rex figured that if he demonstrated once at this factory, they would replicate it everywhere else. By late afternoon, sections glowed anew.

It was already nightfall when he needed to retire for the day. Clean air flowed through properly functioning ventilation for the first time in centuries.

Already, most of the factory looked remotely different than before. Rex's experience also influenced the designs, incorporating the utilitarian style of Providence with his own stylistic flair.

One less day till his expedition to find the archives somewhere on this planet.

Workers bowed as he left for his quarters, grateful.