Clashing Obsessions

Chapter 16 - Dr. Blayne

"Time of death—" I check the time on my smartwatch. "11:24."

On the table, Subject 10 — or, Ratty Patty, as my excitable and terribly immature lab assistant, Lia, calls it — lies, deceased. I press the button on my recorder app.

"Subject 10 died of stroke at 11:24, on June fourth, 2120. Symptoms prior to death consisted of dizziness, hypertension, localized paralysis, seizures and intracranial hemorrhaging."

Quickly, I locate the portable blood scanner in the drawer on the other side of the table, and, after collecting a sample, wait approximately 15 seconds for results, which I dictate into the recorder.

"Blood scan reveals elevated levels of growth hormone, thyroxin, estrogen, testosterone, cortisol, and adrenaline. The former four are within the estimated range after Evo-12 injection, the latter two are more elevated than expected from the serum. Possible explanation: stress response to other symptoms." Moving on to the external control unit, the machine meant to regulate the serum's effect on the body. According to the readings, it successfully managed the distribution of serum throughout the body, but was unable to protect the brain. "Hypothesized cause of death: unavoidable neural interference from Evo-12 serum. Post-mortem dissection will take place at 16:00." With a press of a button on the table, the small section on which the test subject lies sinks down, the hole is closed over with a pane of glass, and faint ice crystals can be seen forming as cryo-preservation activates.

"Minor setback," I mumble, mostly to myself, after switching off the recorder. Out of the twelve trials we've begun, only four of the subjects died. Unfortunately, it doesn't prove much. The way in which my serum affects rodents really doesn't reveal as much as one would hope about its potential effect on humans. Sure, the vague idea is the same, but human systems are much more complex, and besides, the rats are connected to an external control unit, or ECU, which isn't possible for humans — the reason my serum would only work on cyborgs, who already have built-in control centers.

In essence, rats are more likely to survive in some ways — their simpler brain structures leave fewer opportunities for negative effects from the serum — while in others, cyborg humans would have a higher chance of success — a neural control interface like Kalixieta's might be able to regulate the serum's progression through the brain as a sort of filter... An artificial blood-brain barrier, if you will.

What I'm trying to say is, while the rat trials were important in demonstrating some of the physical side effects of the serum, they are by no means a perfect representation of what would happen with humans, the ultimate goal. I didn't dedicate my life's work to advancing the evolution of rodent-kind, did I?

My phone starts to ring from its place on my desk, on the other side of the room. The virtual assistant informs me that it's Wren Ashcombe, the... What was the term? Corporate liaison, I think. He organizes and oversees the partnership between me and the corporation supporting my research.

"Vivian, accept call. Patch it through to the room's speaker system."

"Call transferred," the mechanical voice replies over the speakers, followed by Ashcombe's usual curt greeting.

"Dr. Blayne, hello. How is the project going?"

"Well, ah, it's in progress," I answer. The details would take longer to explain.

As usual, he cuts to the chase.

"We'd like to meet with you as soon as is convenient, to discuss this progress, and your work in the future. Next steps and the like. I've taken the liberty of checking your schedule, it appears your afternoon is open. Is this correct?"

"Yes, I believe so. You'd like to meet today, then?"

"If possible, yes. How's 18:00? I understand you don't like to be interrupted from your work in the middle of the day."