When Elías Mendoza entered the product testing room, there were already two people waiting for him inside.
They were Álvaro Tapia, the plant's chief prosthetic expert, and Néstor Galván, one of the complex's security guards.
Upon seeing Elías, they both immediately stood up and greeted him respectfully.
"Mr. Mendoza," they said almost in unison.
He raised his hand, signaling them to relax.
"No formalities, please. Let's get straight to business."
At that moment, his attention was completely focused on the most important thing: the human trial.
He knew that, in medical or technological matters related to the human body, clinical trials were absolutely crucial. Without real testing, no device, no matter how advanced in theory, could be approved for commercial use.
And although he fully trusted the technology provided by the system, he still couldn't guarantee its effectiveness without empirical evidence. Human life wasn't a game.
That's why, ever since the first robotic arm was manufactured, Elías focused all his resources on validating the human experiment.
He looked back at Néstor Galván's left arm.
There was his old prosthesis: a dark metal structure, rigid and clumsy, like an iron bar bolted to the shoulder. A cheap, domestically manufactured model that offered little support. It cost less than five thousand pesos. Heavy. Limited. Totally disconnected from the neural system.
A simple ornament to calm the mind, rather than a functional solution.
"Néstor," Elías said in a serious tone, "are you ready? This new robotic arm has been developed by our plant. If the test is a success, you keep it. Free of charge. It's compensation for your loyalty."
"I know what you did years ago, when you lost that hand defending the company's property."
Néstor pressed his lips together. His eyes watered.
Ten years ago, he had been a heavy machinery technician. A mistake during a maneuver left him trapped between industrial cogs. Amputation was inevitable.
Since then, he lived with limitations. Without strength, without real mobility. He had gone from being a specialized technician to a night watchman, thanks to the company's decision not to let him go.
"Mr. Mendoza," he responded firmly, "I'm more than ready. I trust the technology and I know it will have no side effects. I'm not asking for compensation. This is my contribution."
"I volunteered. If something goes wrong, it's my decision."
Elías nodded and responded in a warm voice:
"Don't be afraid. You'll most likely regain sensation, control... and with luck, a part of your former life as well."
"You'll have a second chance."
Then he turned to Álvaro Tapia.
"Dr. Tapia, how are the preparations going? Can we begin?"
Álvaro was an authority in the field of biomechanics in Mexico. With a doctorate in regenerative medicine and years of experience, he had collaborated with clinics, universities, and rehabilitation centers across the continent.
At first, when he read the concept of a mechanical arm without allergic reactions, he thought it was science fiction.
"That doesn't exist," he had said.
But upon studying the technology Elías had provided, his vision changed completely. Every line of code, every component, every circuit was coherent, functional, and revolutionary. What he saw before him could transform global medicine.
"Mr. Mendoza," he said humbly, "this technology is marvelous. Honestly, it's at least 50 years ahead of what exists today. I've barely understood 60% of its structure. The rest will take me years... or perhaps a lifetime."
"But trust me, the arm is ready. The conditions are safe. We can begin testing immediately."
Elías took a deep breath.
"Very well. Then it's in your hands, Doctor. But remember one thing: safety first. If you notice the slightest risk, stop the procedure immediately."
He knew perfectly well that this type of surgery wasn't simple.
It wasn't simply a matter of inserting a prosthesis. The process involved removing dead neurons from the amputated end, reconstructing muscle tissue, and soldering electronic interfaces to the nervous system at key points.
It was like performing a controlled secondary amputation, then integrating a synthetic device that would function as if it had been part of the body from birth.
One mistake, one infection, one bad connection... and the patient could die.
If Néstor Galván hadn't volunteered, just gathering the ethical clearances would have taken months.
"Understood," Álvaro Tapia replied gravely. "I'll be careful."
Elías left the testing room and waited outside, his heart sinking.
An hour passed.
The last ten minutes were the worst. The red light above the door, indicating "procedure in progress," kept blinking.
Too long.
An operation of this kind shouldn't last more than 40 minutes. If it wasn't finished, something was wrong.
Elías began to feel a tightness in his chest. He looked at Teodoro Barrientos, who was waiting silently, pale.
"What's going on?" Elías asked. "Why isn't the operation finished?"
Teodoro was equally nervous. He knew that this experiment was at stake. If it failed, it meant not only the end of the project, but also the bankruptcy of Neotex Norte.
"If this fails, there'll be no way to rebuild the factory," he said in a tense voice. "We'll all go bankrupt. You, me... everyone."
"I'm going in," he added, gritting his teeth.
Elías let him pass without saying anything.
When Teodoro reached the door, it opened by itself.
Álvaro Tapia emerged from the room, covered in sweat, his lab coat wrinkled, and his expression exhausted.
For a moment, his face looked somber. Teodoro held his breath.
But then, Tapia gave a weary smile.
"Mr. Mendoza... the test was a success."
"The arm responded perfectly! There were no rejections. There were no complications. The technology works!"
Teodoro breathed for the first time in minutes. Elías, hearing him from outside, sank down on the nearest bench, trembling.
It had started as a bet... and now it was the beginning of a new era.