The doctor, at the center of the lab, worked on an apparatus he had wheeled to position from the electrical closet.The unwilling prisoner, shackled by wrist and ankle, held in place by straps along back and waist, was confined in that tomb of crystal and wires at the far end of the room.At the apex of that triangle of figures was the madman’s red-eyed creation -- it watched, it waited, patiently, unceasingly.

The semi-cylindrical top of the glass enclosure had two, toothed tracks that ran on the edge of the flat, mirrored base.Ridding on that guide, up and down the length of the tube, was a scanning, laser-mirror sensor.Non-fixed, color-coded cords connected the optical processor to the inventor’s control console and to the platform upon which the automaton crouched.

With the turn of a dial the mechanism sputtered to life -- Algernon stepped away from the rack of blinking oscilloscopes to the robot.The frenzied motion of his hands directed it to stand and it complied -- the sounds of its clear, plastic cover echoed sharply.

The scanner’s motors whizzed and quickly brought the electric eye to the top of Caesar’s head.Its hydrogen, neon laser turned on -- a line of bright red dropped onto his body.The shape and contour of his minutest feature deformed the line and the mirrors, that caught the reflection from several angles, transferred the information to a series of photo-sensors embedded on the base of the cylinder.The entire arrangement advanced less than one red wavelength to capture the next image at a rate of thirty-thousand infinitesimal snapshots per second.In a little more than a minute the whole of his physical details were recorded on computer.

The three-dimensional, holographic image was translated from a series of slopes, gradients and geometric figures to a discrete set of points, points that were mapped onto the shiny surface of the seran sheath that clothed the manmade automaton.

A long bar dropped down slowly from the ceiling and stopped a precarious five feet above the robot.Its dull, rectangular façade split apart into a thousand, thin arms -- segmented and jointed -- that spread over the red-eyed machine like a net.The grasping ends of the spider-like appendages latched onto the encasing plastic at those predetermined points and either pulled or prodded the clear covering.The head was totally obscured by the sliverous limbs, the hands, feet, up and down the metal frame they gathered in various degrees of concentration until the wrap took on the outline of Caesar’s physicality.

Without adequate or stable farmland, Metropolis gathered its supply of meat and other animal, vegetable products from synthetic means.Elaborate contrivances had been devised over the course of centuries that reproduced the shapes of fruits, the textures of vegetables, the effect of spices but meat was different.There was no aesthetic reason as to why a slice of steak had to resemble the cow from which, in ancient times, it would have come from.In that way flesh was easier to cultivate, only energy -- electricity -- was needed for the replication of proteins and so, employing similar, time-tested technology, the automaton was able to complete its disguise.

Immediately, out of the openings that dotted its outer framework, the robot extruded what appeared to be a noxious mixture of chewed-raw meat and blood.The goo gradually and deliberately filled the gap between the metal of the cyborg and the clear, plastic of the wrap.Once that process was complete, the tin arms retreated, reformed the metal bar and retracted back into the ceiling.The shape of the covering had set but the tone of the skin remained imperfect -- one last step was required.

Algernon hurried to his creation.He held its hand -- the blood-flesh blend had the consistency of gelatin -- and let it to the front of the raised platform.He pressed buttons on a small remote control.Tiny currents were produced by the robots endoskeleton, its alternating fields caused the iron-rich blood to coalesce into streams.The flesh reformed bonds to gain a firmer elasticity.

Pressing another button caused a low vibration to course throughout the automaton’s new ‘body’ that itself made the seran wrap splinter and fall to the floor, a pile of scraps.

Fully exposed to the air, controlled reaction caused the ‘skin’ to acquire variations in tone, shade and texture.Hair, too, began to grow at an exaggerated rate.The only defects were the minor splotches of blood that oozed out of random segments of the living cell layers and pulsating fluids that covered the sterile, mechanism of the robot.

The doctor made the required adjustments as he inspected the results of his handiwork.

“That’s better now, isn’t it?”The human-tiger pushed back the locks of hair that had just stopped growing and tucked them behind the ears, examining the specialized cartilage.He ran his hands down the face, the neck, the shoulders.He brought his palms to the supple, well-toned chest in awe that even the nipples had come out so well and, feeling with tantalizing fingers the musculature of the stomach and the sensitive areas below, he smiled that it had been a wild, unprecedented success.Indeed, judging by the reactions to his touch, he knew that no one, no one, including him perhaps, could tell the cyborg apart from a real man.

Algernon lifted the cylinder’s glass top.The man-machine picked up Caesar’s unresponsive body and draped him across its shoulder.The doctor led the way to the door that he unlocked.He directed his creation through the darkness of the connecting room.

All the while the jostling, the jarring motion made the captive human groan as he became more and more aware of the throbbing pain that stabbed his temples.He was already uttering comprehensible fragments by the time he was shown to the ‘dungeon’ -- a cramped, walk-in closet at the recess of the mad scientist’s chamber of horrors.

The machine flopped him down to the floor, near a pile of his clothes.

He looked up:“What?What the?”He turned his head side to side in shock at the image that had then presented itself full in view.

The doctor stepped into view:“So glad of you to join us,” he said, mockingly.

“I don’t understand,” he struggled to regain his balance, “you’ve cloned me?”

The red tiger laughed dryly.“No, no,” he whispered, “it is a machine, I made it to look like you.What do you think?What do you have to say?”

“Why?But why?”Caesar’s eyes scanned up and down at himself, at his exact, mechanical duplicate, unable to rationalize the situation.The cyborg kicked his chest and flung him across the floor.He slid until his prostrate body came to rest against the wall.

Again the human, tiger half-breed laughed.“Come, now, no need to grumble,” the prisoner groaned as he held his battered head.“The pain will be gone shortly, I’m sure, yes, it will come to an end soon.Soon ‘why’ won’t be much of a problem for you.”

The man and his creation shuffled out of the door -- it shut to the tune of locks clicking in place.

“No!No!Kara!” he screamed as he got to his feet.“Help!”

Only Algernon’s hideous laughter answered his plea.