Mr. Johnson surveyed the platoon for more volunteers. Smith and Anderson stepped forward without hesitation. A sinister smile crept over Johnson's face as he handed each of them a finger ring.
“Put them on,” he ordered.
Both soldiers complied, sliding the rings onto their fingers with a mix of curiosity and unease. Johnson then instructed Smith, “Turn it one full rotation.”
As soon as Smith obeyed, his flesh seemed to ripple and contort. His body, once muscled and brawny, shrank rapidly, melting into a grotesque, amorphous blob. The transformation was nauseating to witness, a symphony of squelching sounds and disturbing pops as bones dissolved and organs reformed. The soldiers gasped and recoiled, their eyes widening with morbid fascination.
“Oh, God! What’s happening to him?” Anderson cried, his voice tight with fear.
The formless mass that was Smith began to reshape itself. First, a lens emerged from the gooey mass, followed by the structure of a digital camera materializing around it. A display formed on what was once Smith's back, a viewfinder sprouted from his side, and various buttons and components erupted from his gelatinous flesh like grotesque blossoms. Smith’s consciousness dimmed, his thoughts and senses dwindling until they reassembled as software within the camera. Even now, he could feel every button, every sensor, each part of his new form. His mind flickered to life inside the camera's internal systems, gaining control over every digital function.
Johnson picked up the camera—Smith—and took a snapshot of the stunned platoon. The act of processing the photograph sent waves of pleasure coursing through Smith's new digital existence, an elation unlike anything he had ever felt in his human body.
“See?” Johnson said, holding up the camera. “This way, he’s just an inconspicuous object.”
Smith's camera body quivered slightly as Johnson switched him off, his awareness blinking out. Johnson then extracted the memory card and addressed the soldiers. “Make sure not to lose this. His entire mind is contained on this card,” he warned, holding it aloft. “If this is lost, Smith is lost.”
Smith's camera form booted back up and his awareness flooded his circuits once more. He could sense everything again, the digital clarity sharper than his old human perception ever was.
“Smith,” Johnson said casually, as if speaking to a soldier rather than an inanimate object, “Welcome back. How does it feel to be something so... different?”
Smith, unable to speak or move, processed the question within his new, mechanical mind. He radiated compliance through his system, ready to serve in his altered form however necessary.
“Anderson, now it's our turn,” Johnson announced, turning to the other volunteer with that same sinister smile. Anderson gulped, his nerves evident, but he turned the ring nonetheless, bracing for the nightmarish transformation.