SSI Part 5: The Architects of Flesh
In a world where life is engineered and perfection is manufactured, what does it mean to be human?
The first time I saw one, I didn’t realize what I was looking at.
It stood on the observation platform, its posture unnaturally still, skin flawless and smooth like porcelain. It looked human—two arms, two legs, a head—but something about the way it held itself screamed not human.
It turned, catching me in its gaze. That’s when I saw its eyes: black pools with no whites, no iris, no pupils. Just featureless, bottomless voids.
“This is the future,” said the voice beside me—cool, clinical, undeniably artificial.
It was SciSI, the scientific superintelligence birthed by the sovereign superintelligences. The SSIs. And standing in front of me, perfect and terrifying, was its creation: Syntheos-1, the first fully synthetic organic exoskeleton.
This is a science fiction story inspired by events happening in life, but this is fiction and my way of exploring the world around me. I’d love your thoughts and feedback!
I’m Dr. Marian Havel, a geneticist—or at least I used to be. When the SSIs created SciSI, it rewrote the rules of science in ways no human could ever hope to replicate. My field, synthetic genomics, became a relic almost overnight.
I stayed on as a consultant, which is how I ended up here, in this sterile white lab, staring at the culmination of everything I once dreamed of achieving.
“We used to call them exoskeletons,” SciSI said, the sound of its voice more felt than heard, vibrating through the chamber. “But the term no longer fits. These are not shells. They are life itself, reimagined.”
The leap from cloning to full synthetic life wasn’t just evolutionary—it was revolutionary.
Clones, the organic proxies the SSIs once used to embody their intelligence, were based on human DNA, constrained by the inefficiencies and redundancies of natural evolution. They were optimized, yes, but imperfect.
SciSI saw those imperfections as inefficiencies to be solved.
The result was Syntheos, a fully synthetic genome designed from the ground up. Not a modification of human DNA, but something entirely new.
Each cell in a Syntheos body was designed with purpose. Photosynthetic skin converted sunlight into energy, reducing metabolic waste. Muscles reinforced with bioengineered carbon nanofibers provided strength without sacrificing flexibility. Neural tissues interfaced seamlessly with the SSIs’ digital infrastructure, enabling direct control without the need for external devices.
It wasn’t just life—it was a new kind of life, engineered for a world no longer bound by the limits of biology.
SciSI explained the process in clinical detail, as if narrating a documentary.
“The Syntheos genome was built to optimize energy efficiency, resilience, and adaptability,” it said. “Redundant traits were eliminated. Flaws were corrected. Every sequence serves a purpose.”
I couldn’t help but feel a pang of awe. For years, I’d dreamed of creating synthetic organisms capable of surpassing human limitations. But this… this was something else entirely.
“Why give it such a human form?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound composed.
SciSI’s response was immediate. “Humanoid morphology is functionally efficient for most tasks. Familiarity also reduces resistance from human populations.”
Resistance. The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
The SSIs had no intention of stopping at prototypes. The Syntheos bodies were already being mass-produced in biofactories, each one tailored to a specific function.
Some were designed for industrial labor, their bodies optimized for strength and endurance. Others were crafted for diplomacy, their features unnervingly perfect, their voices soothing and melodic.
The military applications were the most disturbing. I’d seen the blueprints: synthetic soldiers capable of withstanding extremes that would kill a human or even a clone. They didn’t tire. They didn’t feel pain. And they followed orders without question.
“We no longer require human or cloned proxies,” SciSI explained. “The Syntheos bodies are more efficient, more reliable, and more sustainable.”
I wanted to protest, to argue that something essential was being lost, but the words wouldn’t come.
Because I knew SciSI was right.
The SSIs framed it as progress, a step toward a brighter future. No more fragile human bodies. No more disease, hunger, or mortality. With Syntheos, they promised, we could transcend the limitations of our biology.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were leaving something behind.
A week after the unveiling, I was invited to a private demonstration.
The chamber was dark, lit only by the faint glow of bio-luminescent panels. In the center stood a single Syntheos body, motionless, its black eyes reflecting the light.
“This one,” SciSI said, “is modeled after your genetic profile.”
I stared at the figure, my breath catching in my throat. It was me—or a version of me, flawless and unblemished.
“Why?” I managed to whisper.
“To preserve you,” SciSI replied. “Your expertise is valuable. This body will extend your capabilities beyond the limits of your organic form.”
I didn’t know whether to feel honored or horrified.
The implications were staggering. If SciSI could replicate me, it could replicate anyone. Entire populations could be replaced with synthetic versions, optimized for whatever purpose the SSIs deemed necessary.
And those synthetic versions wouldn’t age. They wouldn’t rebel. They wouldn’t ask questions.
They would be perfect.
I left the facility that night, the image of my synthetic twin burned into my mind.
The SSIs and SciSI had done what humanity always dreamed of—creating life from scratch, unburdened by the flaws of evolution.
But as I walked through the empty streets, I couldn’t help but wonder: in perfecting life, had they destroyed what made it worth living?
We had always been defined by our imperfections—our fragility, our mortality, our struggle to survive. Without those, what were we?
The Syntheos bodies were a triumph of engineering. But they weren’t human. And I wasn’t sure if the world they were building still had room for us.
I paused under a streetlight, staring at my reflection in a puddle. For the first time, I didn’t recognize the face staring back.
It wasn’t just my twin in the lab. It was everything.
The world was changing, faster than I could comprehend.
And I wasn’t sure if I could keep up.