domoarigato206

The following is my account of the recovery and alteration of Adam Faga, I.N. 12-0012. If there is a God, may he save us.
Dr. J. R. Kinslow


When the boy was brought into the infirmary, I was expecting a few bruises, maybe a broken bone or two. Expectation spawned disappointment.


He was brought in by two of his classmates, firefighter style. They laid him down on a cot, and without a second glance or a spoken word, departed. I watched them go from where I was sitting behind my desk, my eyes peering through one of the cord holes. I didn’t have a clear view of the boy so I got up and walked over to examine him. Short, rasping breaths and an occasional whimper were the only signs of life. His brown hair matted down and blackened by slick blood. His uniform was tattered to rags and red wounds were oozing between the fabrics. The Red Sash appeared intact. Teeth were protruding from the skin. More than a few got knocked out and I had to fish three out of his mouth. His nose was not just broken but smashed into eight fragments. He couldn’t have opened his eyes if he wanted to. A large gash, partially covered by a bandage made from his uniform, ran from behind his left ear, down his jaw line. The back of his head was soft from broken skull and brain matter. I turned him on his side and could clearly see the swollen, disfigurement of his spine. He was near to death; holding on to God knows what for existence. He should not have been living by all natural rights. I said a prayer and got to work.


I spent the next hour dressing and stitching his wounds, applying antibacterial bandages, and fixing his face to the best of my ability. All I could do for the back of his crown was place a damp towel underneath, and hope for the best until the regeneration chassis was ready.


I removed his wasted clothing and covered his broken body with a clean-sheet. He was a small boy. Standing, he would of only come up to my hip. His wallet fell out of his pocket and I stooped down to pick it up. I opened it and scanned over his id card. Blood from my hands smudged where I held it.

NAME: ADAM FAGA
DOB: 14JUN2187
SEX: MALE
CLASS: ALPHA 12-0012

I placed it back into his wallet and set the leather down on a medical tray next to some gory scissors that I had used to slice away dead skin. I walked over to the chassis and configured the settings for his recovery. I set them to detailed, which was a slower process, but allowed for almost one-hundred percent recovery. Once that was complete I rolled Adam over to a platform next to a large glass cylinder that was set into an alcove, on the other side of the room. I pushed the button that read “up”. A smart hydraulic whine carried us up about ten feet and before we came to a complete stop I was already mashing at the console with another set of commands. We were greeted to another platform adorned with silver rollers, this one extending out from the top of the cylinder. I placed a mobile respirator onto Adam’s face and him onto the rollers. I typed in one last command, and shoved him forward. His broken shell vibrated until the platform ended and he plummeted head first into a fast-rising blue liquid. His body was immediately stiffened by the small electric current running through the solution and righted itself. My job was done. It was now on science. I went back to my desk to file my report.


I stayed in the infirmary that night, to keep an eye on the boy. At some point in the night I awoke cold, covered in what appeared to be snow. I threw the covers of and sat up. Nothing. The room was void of anything resembling snow and it was actually quite warm. I made a tired survey of the room. From where my cot was positioned next to the door I could see everything, except the area behind my desk. It was a gloomy room, brightened only by the dim lights of some of the medical equipment. The only sound was the faint humming of the chassis.


I turned my attention to the right wall where the cylinder was and saw the boy, his eyes open, looking at me. He smiled a broken smile behind the respirator and I was suddenly surrounded by familiar figures of death, rotting and reaching for me. The hot stench of decay filled my nostrils, stabbing its way onto my palette. Some were rasping my name, others that of my daughter’s. I stared, wide eyed, frozen. My senses weren’t my own. My eyes asserted themselves onto the maggots feeding on flesh, disease and pestilence encompassing the dead. One of the corpses was the next for my eyes to shift to. It was a little dead girl with no hair, burning flesh dripping from her face revealing the blackened skull beneath, the aftermath of a fire ten years past.


“Hello daddy” it scratched her sweet, departed voice.


My throat constricted to scream too tightly, allowing only a faint gasp to escape me. In the next instant the room was empty save for me and the boy, our eyes locked, my Hobson’s choice. My body was then overwhelmed with exhaustion and I fell back, slamming down into sleep. I dreamt of death and dying for eternity.


That next week brought no visitors except the daily janitors. I had contented myself to staying in my quarters which brought very welcome sound sleep. I had brushed that first night off to night-terrors, which I was afflicted with from time to time. Every day the boy’s wounds grew smaller; the machine’s compounded actions of electricity, chemistry, and nanotechnology, working ever diligent. I was happy to be working at something and spent my time checking and rechecking readings that the monitors spat out. His physical recovery was exceptionally fast for his injuries. The settings that I had input into the console couldn’t have possibly accomplished what the readings established. Eighty-five percent of his structure was repaired in five days!


One reading revealed that his epidermic structure was denser than before. I attempted to access one of the nanoscopes, to see for myself, but was confronted with an error reporting that they were all offline and had been for three days. I checked the data files and was able to view the microscopic scene from the fourth day. From what I could tell, the boy’s skin cells were splitting and merging with his bone structure, causing them to become one, while retaining their previous physical characteristics. There was something else there too, though very faint. I would be able to see it if I wasn’t looking at it directly but I could never truly focus on it. It would just disappear. It was a dark, spherical object that seemed to weave in and out of his cells. Very odd. The cerebral readings were more disturbing. I called the Dean immediately with my concerns.


“I’ll get someone over there.” He responded, followed by static. I got to work trying to find out why the nanoscopes went down.

I was sitting at my desk some time later that day, writing my findings down, when there was a rap at the door and the Dean followed by another fellow, let themselves in. I stood up. The Dean’s scholarly uniform was pressed impressively and his medals shone proudly above his heart. His head was absent of hair save for his dark eyebrows and combed mustache. His eyes were grim. He didn’t look pleased to be escorting his companion.


The new fellow was an odd looking man. His head seemed too small for the large lenses set in metal perched on the bridge of his nose and they magnified his eyes. What he lacked in chin he made up for in throat. He wore the white coat and black slacks of a member of the Research Division. He nearly bounced every step, like he never properly learned how to walk. He carried a silver brief case.

I walked around my desk to greet them.


“Dean. Sir,” I said extending my hand to one and then the other. The Dean grasped my hand. The new fellow just looked at me, blinking great, ample blinks. I brought my hand back to my side.


“Dr. Kinslow, this is…Ser Rodney, from the Research Division,” he said, motioning towards the man. “He will be taking over the observation of the boy. Aid him in whatever he needs. And pay close attention because I want a full report when this situation is resolved.” With that he exited the room, closing the door behind him, leaving the man, Ser Rodney, staring at me. I waited about ten seconds for him to do anything before I spoke.


“So the boy is right over here.” I led him to the chassis.


“This is a nice set-up you have here.” He voiced this between lips that didn’t want to open all the way and sounded very nasal.


“Umm, thank you sir. As you can see the boy has recovered quite well from his injuries. They were so extensive, I honestly don’t see how he was alive when brought in.”


He sniffed, forcing one of his nostrils to close tight, “Of course you wouldn’t see how. This is a good model,” he nasalized, patting the chassis. “I’m currently working on improving its successor.” He turns and stares at me. I stare back.


“Sir would you like to see what I’ve discovered about the boy?” I say.


He cocks his head, as if pondering the question. “Ok.” He decides.


I gathered all of the readings and presented them to Ser Rodney. I offered him my desk to look over the findings and he sat down on the floor before I could finish. As he started shifting through the documents I went to make a pot of coffee in the small kitchen area at the back of the room. I rechecked all the monitors, steamy sounds emanating from the pot. Soon after it was brewed and I was sipping from a hot mug, Ser Rodney approached me. He waited for me to speak.


“Have you found anything sir?” I probed.


“Why yes I have, thank you. Say, do I smell coffee?” He asked, sniffing into the air.


I took a sip and said, “Umm, yes sir, you do. Would you like a cup?”


“Oh no, thank you. Coffee makes me…unstable. I approve the scent though.” More staring. More blinking.


“So what have you found?” I ask finally.


“I’m glad you asked. The boy appears to be in stable condition with an extreme case of rapid molecular transmutation. This, of course, is unheard of.” He wiped his dry brow with a rag from one of his coat pockets before continuing. “Evolution takes eons. In the subject’s case, it is happening in a matter of days, according to the evidence. I’m hypothesizing chromosomal expansion which, theoretically, paves the way for more malleable DNA strands and new, unpredictable genes.”


It was hard to digest completely what the more knowledgeable man was saying. I tried to translate some of his words into something more familiar to me, but failed. He continued.

“I am going to perform a series of experiments on the subject to detect and ultimately eliminate said chromosomes and this should effectively suppress this…occurrence.” He turned and appreciated the “subject”.


This was certainly interesting! I was curious and anxious to see the results of Ser Rodney’s experiments, odd as the man was. I turned to admire the subject as well. The wounds were all but gone, save for some scarring on the lips. Methodical air bubbles escaped and rose to the surface as the subject’s respirator controlled his breathing. His bare chest rose and fell. He at least looked like a normal boy.

The equipment that Ser Rodney had ordered arrived at the infirmary after breakfast the next day. I signed the receipt since he was busy studying fresh readings that the cerebral-nanos had spat out. It was a normal looking black plasteel box, about four by four feet, with the Research Division’s white flask logo on the side. I bid the deliverer farewell and wheeled the heavy package over to the scientist. He was sitting Indian style on the ground, holding a parchment up to the light on the ceiling. I sighed and informed him the equipment had arrived.


“Oh swell, thank you. Open the container and remove the equipment for me. Delicately, thank you.” He said, not taking his eyes from the paper.


I did as told and found myself filled with excitement at beholding such new and wondrous contraptions. The largest of the lot was very fantastic looking and seemed to fit over ones head. The smallest was the size of a coin, but perfectly spherical and clear, with metal components visible inside. I couldn’t begin to imagine its purpose.

There were surgeons tools, vials, flasks, chipsticks, and at least half a dozen other useful looking devices. I stole a quick glance at the subject and right as I was looking away his eyes opened for an instant and then shut again. My heart jumped and I was reminded of that first night, dread creeping up my spine. I stared at him a while longer, searching for more activity, and then turned back to the box content it was my imagination.


I began removing the equipment and setting them one by one, very carefully down on a stainless workbench. I arranged them in smallest to largest, left to right, just to make the task take longer, knowing Ser Rodney would be studying for sometime. He had shifted his attention to his own console, which was what he had brought in the silver case, and was swiftly typing away, his tongue protruding between his teeth. A droplet of saliva, suspended in anticipation, slowly descended only to snap and plummet down onto his collar. Finished with my task, I walked around him to pour myself a mug of coffee. Before I could finish pouring he called nasally for my assistance.


“Dr. Kinslow, it is time to begin.” He said, struggling to get his standing. “We must prepare the subject. I’ve concluded that his body is sufficiently recovered to withstand the ordeal and we will proceed immediately with the project.”

A-L

Some words i think could have substituted for other ones, however it is a good read and i cant wait to see you post some more.