Alieia
03-01-2008, 16:25
"Finally, a stable one," sighed the labcoat-clad man, checking a box on his clipboard. "All right. Wake him up." He waved a hand, pen between his fingers, toward the capsule. Its face was matte-black, and lying next to it was a compact medical monitor, with electrocardiographic activity, blood pressure and a handful of other data ranges pouring over its efficient surface. The capsule itself was reclined into the wall, flanked on either side by more of the same, and several feet tall. The wall behind it was covered by slate-gray access panels. It was in a circular room, brightly illuminated by fluorescent bulbs.
One of the two nurses in the room nodded in what might be called solemnity, and produced an empty syringe and bottle of clear liquid from her pockets. She took the tip of the syringe off, stuck it into the top of the bottle, past the airtight plastic covering, and drew an amount—about a third of the syringe—out. She held it up to the light, straight up, and flicked it a few times to get the right amount. Apparently satisfied, she moved to the bundle of plastic bags, moving her finger in idle circles while she found the right tube; once found, in went the syringe, and the liquid therein slowly disappeared.
At the same time, the surgeon—or whatever he was—keyed open the cover of the capsule, and was met with a chorus of clicks as the locks opened. The "lid" of the contraption slid back around the assembly, revealing the culmination of the better part of a year's worth of mishaps and research. The chimera, a cross between a common mouse and a human, had been created to test the function of several genes, and had already yielded significant data. However, the fact that he had survived until maturity offered the chance to study social behavior, which was admittedly the doctor's pet project, nominally supported by the research team's head. Despite his desire to work with more complex organisms, like chimpanzees or any number of other primates, he had eventually decided to err on the side of caution and pick a nice, docile species, and see how it went. The nurse, as she had been previously instructed, had not injected more of the stimulant so that the chimera could be more easily controlled, in case there was a stronger reaction than predicted.
Thankfully, the doctor had been correct, for the most part. The mouse did not know what to make of suddenly waking up, and though surprised, did not react in a dangerous fashion, owing to the amount of anesthetic still in his bloodstream. He was slightly more active than the stimulant should have made him, but the staff was dealing with an entirely new biological makeup, and it was hard to adjust the doses properly to account for metabolism and body weight and fat percentage. Still, he was entirely manageable, and was led away by the nurse, with another watching closely, armed with a stun baton. The process repeated itself several times that day—in all, a profitable venture, despite the percentage of failures. Now, all that remained was to build up their atrophied musculature and eyesight, though he could start observing before then, if he wanted to take the chance of them injuring themselves. He'd make a decision later, he thought, and strolled out of the room, flicking off the lights as he closed the door.
One of the two nurses in the room nodded in what might be called solemnity, and produced an empty syringe and bottle of clear liquid from her pockets. She took the tip of the syringe off, stuck it into the top of the bottle, past the airtight plastic covering, and drew an amount—about a third of the syringe—out. She held it up to the light, straight up, and flicked it a few times to get the right amount. Apparently satisfied, she moved to the bundle of plastic bags, moving her finger in idle circles while she found the right tube; once found, in went the syringe, and the liquid therein slowly disappeared.
At the same time, the surgeon—or whatever he was—keyed open the cover of the capsule, and was met with a chorus of clicks as the locks opened. The "lid" of the contraption slid back around the assembly, revealing the culmination of the better part of a year's worth of mishaps and research. The chimera, a cross between a common mouse and a human, had been created to test the function of several genes, and had already yielded significant data. However, the fact that he had survived until maturity offered the chance to study social behavior, which was admittedly the doctor's pet project, nominally supported by the research team's head. Despite his desire to work with more complex organisms, like chimpanzees or any number of other primates, he had eventually decided to err on the side of caution and pick a nice, docile species, and see how it went. The nurse, as she had been previously instructed, had not injected more of the stimulant so that the chimera could be more easily controlled, in case there was a stronger reaction than predicted.
Thankfully, the doctor had been correct, for the most part. The mouse did not know what to make of suddenly waking up, and though surprised, did not react in a dangerous fashion, owing to the amount of anesthetic still in his bloodstream. He was slightly more active than the stimulant should have made him, but the staff was dealing with an entirely new biological makeup, and it was hard to adjust the doses properly to account for metabolism and body weight and fat percentage. Still, he was entirely manageable, and was led away by the nurse, with another watching closely, armed with a stun baton. The process repeated itself several times that day—in all, a profitable venture, despite the percentage of failures. Now, all that remained was to build up their atrophied musculature and eyesight, though he could start observing before then, if he wanted to take the chance of them injuring themselves. He'd make a decision later, he thought, and strolled out of the room, flicking off the lights as he closed the door.