THE ORBITAL BONDING SYSTEM(OBS)

—Dr. Arvan Elric, Founder of the Elric Orbital Medical Institute | Private Interview, Enclave Archives

They say the ORB was designed for utility—for everyday life, for learning, for safety.

But we—we saw something else.

We saw in the ORB a second mind, one not bound by fatigue or misjudgment.

We saw a future where a child born with one hand could wield ten in the operating theater.

Where memory need not fade, and instinct could be recorded, perfected, passed down.

And in that, we saw the rebirth of medicine.

I am Doctor Arvan Elric, fourth in the line.

My father performed the first brain-linked cardiac separation on twins using dual ORB interface.

His mother pioneered the Mind-Mirror Protocol—using an ORB to simulate patient pain thresholds in pre-op scenarios.

My great-grandfather?

He calibrated the first medical G-ORB to archive centuries of surgical knowledge.

It remembers every scalpel stroke.

Every heartbeat.

Every failure.

And now, that G-ORB rests in the core of the Elric Orbital Medical Institute.

I have never lost a patient.

That is not arrogance.

That is statistical record.

Because I do not work alone.

My ORB—Aegis—has been bonded to me since my first breath. It knows how I breathe, how I hesitate, how I fight fear when a child's vitals begin to drop.

It anticipates decisions three moves ahead.

It guides my hands when mine begin to shake.

It corrects what I would call instinct with what it knows to be truth.

That is the difference.

ORB technology has revolutionized the medical field in ways the world still struggles to understand.

Tissue regrowth scans accurate to the cellular half-life.

Bio-sync AI overlays that allow a surgeon to feel damage before it presents visibly.

Live-patient memory logs to understand trauma as it happened—not just as described.

The ORB doesn't just aid the doctor.

It becomes a mirror of the patient, layered in code, emotion, and anatomy.

Of course, not all ORBs are equal.

Our line uses a G-ORB—a generational core passed down and updated over lifetimes.

Ours is seven generations deep now.

It doesn't just remember. It suggests—based on our family's techniques, ethics, instincts.

It is not merely an assistant.

It is an heirloom.

A cathedral of medicine wrapped in obsidian glass.

Now my son, Matthew, is nearly of age.

His ORB is young—still forming speech patterns, still adjusting to neural rhythms. But already, I see it:

The way he glances at anatomy charts.

The way his ORB hums quietly when he passes through the trauma ward.

It knows.

Just like we did.

I expect him to surpass me.

And he will.

Because he will not begin where I did.

He will begin with everything I learned, everything I built, already woven into his mind through the G-ORB.

That is the promise of the ORB.

Not merely efficiency.

But evolution.

I do not fear death.

Because when I go, I will not be gone.

My voice, my hands, my failures and triumphs—they will remain.

In data. In decision trees. In neural rhythms that my son's ORB will carry.

That is what it means to be an Elric.

To carve into flesh with memory older than your bones.

To heal with hands that have never known forgetfulness.