“I’m just having a difficult time believing most of this.” Cyrus’s grew thoughtful. “It seems so impossible.”
“It is indeed entirely possible,” Dr. Shen assured him.
“What are the risks?”
“Well, there is the very real risk that you could die, though it is rather small. There also exists the possibility for nanobotic malfunction, one so small it barely requires mentioning.”
Cyrus thought that he probably shouldn’t have bothered asking since he received the anticipated answer. He was taking a significant risk no matter what Shen might tell him.
“What are the odds the procedure will cause me additional health problems?”
“The chances of such an outcome are essentially zero. If your condition somehow worsens, or you develop some other health complication, we’ll have to dispose of you. There is no way that we can allow you to continue living in such a state. We can’t risk anyone potentially discovering that we’ve moved onto human subjects, given the way we have acquired you. We’ll do it in the most humane way possible, I promise you. It will be quick, and you will feel no pain.”
“So essentially, what you’re saying is, should I accept your offer, you don’t have any intention of letting me leave here alive if I somehow get worse?”
“That is correct. It is understandable if you reject my proposal.”
“You’ve been really unapologetic about all of the dubious methods you employ. How do I know you will bring me back home?”
“All you have is my word. I admit that you are most disadvantaged in that aspect, but you will just have to believe me.”
“I want to believe you, but things still don’t feel quite right.” Cyrus frowned. “Aren’t you at all concerned that when you send me home after I reject your offer that I might reveal what you have been doing? Surely you’ll need to get rid of me to keep me from talking.”
“To be completely frank, we aren’t concerned about any repercussions should you become overly chatty.” Dr. Shen shrugged. “The circumstances of your abduction seen to be rather extraordinary, and I’m certain it is unlikely anyone will believe you. You’ll just sound like an insane individual babbling on about abductions—which just happen to be void of extraterrestrials.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Cyrus sighed. “OK, then what are the chances that your procedure will work?”
“We believe your chances for cure are quite good. I will warn you, though, there is a great chance the treatment will not change your condition at all. We would send you home in this instance.”
“Have you performed this procedure on other human subjects?”
“We have performed this particular procedure a few times.” Dr. Shen looked past Cyrus, lost in thought.
“Has it ever worked?”
“As of right now, our means of gene editing has yet to be successful in a human test subject, though our technology is now much more advanced. Your chances are better now than they were in the past.”
“That doesn’t help my confidence much.” Cyrus gave the doctor a half-smile.
“I didn’t presume it would. Mr. Blackthorn, you have heard the full extent of the proposal. It is now time for you to make your decision. You can be a part of pioneering scientific discovery, or you can go back home and wait to die, as you have been doing. Feel free to take your time. I advise you to at least consider what I am offering.”
“I will admit you make an enticing proposal, even if there is a high possibility it won’t work. The thing is, you don’t give me much reason to trust you.”
“I didn’t expect you to.” Dr. Shen rose from his seat and walked toward the wall. “Our method of acquisition doesn’t allow for trust. Personally, I believe you should pull trust from the equation. Even if you felt that you could trust us, it wouldn’t matter much. You are still at our mercy, and we can do what we want with you, regardless if you approve of it or not.” The doctor stopped near the left side of the room.
“Wow,” said Cyrus, his voice full of sarcasm. “Thanks for putting that all in perspective.”
“I don’t mean to offend you or make you feel small, Mr. Blackthorn.” Dr. Shen turned back around. “I only wanted to give you the clearest perspective. I don’t want your lack of trust in us to cloud your judgment. Your decision would seem to depend on your willingness to make sacrifices. The choice you make should be dependent upon one single factor. Are you willing to sacrifice the very little that you have for a chance at a cure?” Dr. Shen looked at him with an unyielding gaze, finally breaking eye contact before beginning to walk back toward the middle of the room.
“Well, when you put it like that…” Cyrus looked down at the ledge at the bottom of the bed where his feet rested. They were swollen and purple due to poor circulation and lack of use. They were weak and useless. “Don’t have much choice,” he whispered so the doctor couldn’t hear.
“I would believe the correct choice is obvious, given how little you have to lose,” said Dr. Shen, standing in front of Cyrus once more.
“You know, it’s kind of funny.” Cyrus smiled, about to laugh. “I used to talk about how I would jump at even a chance at a cure, and now I’m hesitating. I guess you found the right man, doctor. I’ll do it. I know I’ll never get another chance. What do I have to lose? I’m basically already dead anyway.”
“That is wonderful, Mr. Blackthorn.” Dr. Shen’s grin was genuine this time. “I was certain you would make the right choice.”
“What happens now?”
“I suppose now is the time for me to fully inform you as to what we have planned. We have already prepared the nanobot infusion, and we will start right away. We’ll be rendering you unconscious once again for your comfort, as the infusion will take quite a while. The process will occur in two phases, each involving nanobots built and programmed for different purposes. In phase one, you will be infused with nanobots designed to repair your faulty gene. When those nanobots complete their task, you will be infused with the second group of nanobots, ones designed to repair your damaged muscle cells. We will be targeting a great many cells, and that takes a considerable amount of time. Forty-eight hours or more.”
“You are really into knocking people out, aren’t you? I’ve never seen a drug that acts like the one you use. It’s really potent and does whatever it wants. Aren’t you at all concerned about what it’s doing to me? I’m beginning to get a little worried.”
“I believe you are underestimating what CyberGen is capable of. You have been given several different drugs, each comprised of different types of nanobots, each designed to target different areas of the brain, producing the desired effect. For example, the sedative we will give for the infusion is a sleep inducer. The nanobots target the area of the brain involved in the switch between wakefulness and sleep, delivering an electric shock to that area in order to render you unconscious. Some of the other sedatives you have been given are programmed to deliver a shock to this area at certain times. That is how you have been switching between consciousness and unconsciousness at specific times. The drug you were given last night involved two different types of nanobots, one designed to act first and induce sleep and the other to cause immobility. If it seems like the drugs have their own agenda, it’s because they do.”
“Huh.” Cyrus nearly chuckled, “I will admit that is impressive.”
“It is indeed.” Dr. Shen smiled, finally showing a sense of humor. “Mr. Blackthorn, we’re not so different, you and I. We’re both men of science, and we both work for the good of humanity. Given your education and history, I’m sure you’ve been disappointed by your degree of participation in your chosen field. Now your dreams can be a reality, even if things don’t work out. No matter the outcome of the procedure, surely just being a part of it is glorious enough.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” said Cyrus, finding his newfound enthusiasm strange. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s shoot me up with those nanobots!”
�
�Very well. Before we begin, I need to step out in the hall for a moment to speak to my assistants.”
Dr. Shen turned to walk away from Cyrus, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.
Cyrus looked into the mirror hanging in front of him once more, taken aback by the happiness he displayed when he saw his reflection. It was strange that he should be so pleased with his predicament, uncertain and nervous as he was at the prospect of the procedure. Cyrus supposed he didn’t know how to act now that he was so close to obtaining something he thought would never be.
Dr. Shen returned moments later. Elysia and Viddur followed him silently as they stood against the corner of the wall opposite Cyrus.
“Before we begin, I feel you should be told what will occur over the course of the procedure,” said Dr. Shen, standing directly in front of Cyrus once more. “As I’m sure you see in the mirror, you are connected to several machines. Most of these are just here to monitor your vitals like all the other monitors you’ve seen in hospitals. Nothing special at all. We just need to monitor you throughout the infusion.” Dr. Shen reached for the collar of Cyrus’s hospital gown. “All of the ground-breaking science will start right here with this.”
He pulled his collar so that he could look into the mirror and see a newly stitched wound on his chest. Below the wound, Cyrus saw a small but very evident bump into which someone had inserted a needle. A length of tubing hung from it.
“Elysia, please give Mr. Blackthorn another dose of the sedative,” Dr. Shen commanded, stepping back so Elysia could access Cyrus. She held a needleless syringe in her hand.
Elysia smiled at him as she screwed the syringe into the tubing and then pushed the syringe plunger down. Her hands were cold but soft, and she had a gentle touch. She removed the needle from the tubing and joined Viddur back beside the wall.
“We have inserted a port-line into your subclavian vein through which the nanobots will be infused into your cardiovascular system,” Dr. Shen continued. “This will send the nanobots directly to your heart, allowing them quick access to your muscle cells via your cardiovascular system.”
“Makes sense, I suppose,” said Cyrus, looking at the port-line in his chest. “What happens to the bots when the infusion is complete?”
“They will break up and be filtered out of your cardiovascular system by your kidneys and will be fully eliminated from your body when you urinate.” Dr. Shen paused, waiting for something. “Do you have any more questions about the process, Mr. Blackthorn?”
“No, those are pretty much all my concerns.” Cyrus felt as though he had forgotten a few things just as the words left his mouth. He thought it was probably the nanobots floating around in his skull.
“Very good,” said Dr. Shen, “You should lose consciousness momentarily. As soon as the infusion is complete, we’ll move you to a more comfortable room, one that is similar to any room you would find in a hospital. We will observe you for the next few days afterward, looking for any signs of improvement. For the duration of that time, you will be cared for by our team of nurses. Don’t be alarmed when you wake up and feel ill as we anticipate that is a normal reaction to the gene editing.”
“How are you going to dispose of me if the experiment doesn’t work?” Cyrus shuddered.
“I firmly believe that the procedure will be successful. If, in the unlikely event that the procedure goes wrong, you will be disposed of in the most humane way possible. Decapit…”
Cyrus could see the doctor’s lips move but could not hear the rest of his answer as he drifted back into unconsciousness, his head slumping to one side.
Chapter VI
Chthonic Descent
“Hello. Is this Michael Greaves?” Asher asked, speaking into his cellphone.
“Who is this?” the receptionist shrieked. The man’s voice caught Asher off guard. He frowned, irritated that he hadn’t been given a direct line to Greaves.
“This is Asher Blackthorn…” he trailed off, uncertain of what to say next.
“How did you get this number?” The rant continued, leaving Asher unsure if the man was angry or just surprised. “This is supposed to be a closed line!” The receptionist’s voice was youthful, suggesting his inexperience.
“Michael Greaves told me to call this number. Sorry, I’m not sure what his actual rank or title is.”
“Oh.” The receptionist’s tone softened. “What business do you have with Commander Greaves?”
“He gave me this number in case I changed my mind, which I guess I have. I’ve decided I want to sign up or enlist or whatever.”
“OK.” The receptionist paused, unsure what to do next. “I suppose we’ll need to send somebody to pick you up. Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll set it up. I’ll go ahead and put you on hold now.”
Asher heard the receptionist hurriedly typing out something on the computer keyboard. He looked across the street to find that the city had finally awoken. Cars kept the roads clogged up as always. He hadn’t realized how packed the snow-laden sidewalk was, but throngs of people walked past him.
Asher grew anxious as he waited for the receptionist, causing him to view some of those who passed around him suspiciously. There was always the possibility that a vampire was lurking in his midst, wise to what he was doing and waiting for its chance to strike. Their ability to withstand sunlight made such a scenario all the more probable.
“OK, everything ought to be good to go,” the receptionist said at last, making Asher flinch. “Expect retrieval in five to six hours.” The man hung up, giving Asher no chance to ask who would be retrieving him.
“Well, so much for him,” Asher mumbled. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, his breath condensing in the frigid air as he spoke.
Asher suddenly felt tired. Nearly all of the excitement from last night was finally burning off. He yawned, his breath escaping his mouth like steam from a locomotive. Asher aimlessly stared off into the street as he contemplated his next move. He needed to be inconspicuous. He turned from the stone bench and started back toward the hospital doors.
* * *
Asher removed his jacket just as the door to his apartment slammed shut, the garment barely hitting the floor, as he made a b-line straight for his bedroom. He promptly collapsed on the mattress, falling across it with considerable force, his head and torso off on the far side, missing the bed entirely. Still hanging across the bed, he stared down at the floor, spotting a roach scurrying across it.
Good thing Mom can’t see this, he thought to himself, turning around on the bed so that he lay vertically.
Asher yawned his last, too tired to move, falling asleep seconds after he closed his eyes.
Buzz. Buzz.
His phone went off in what he believed was only minutes later, interrupting what might have been a fitful sleep.
Asher sighed, keeping his eyes closed as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He squinted at the screen and frowned when he saw it read 3:47 pm. He accepted the call and placed the device to his ear.
“Hello. Is this Asher Blackthorn?” asked a man’s voice, deeper than the receptionist’s was.
“Yes, this is him,” he said, trying not to yawn into the receiver. “Who are you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
“This is Captain Kilgore. I’m parked outside your apartment building right now. I’m here to take you to base. I need you to get down here as soon as possible.”
Asher’s face contorted in confusion, surprised they would send someone as high up as a captain to pick up a recruit. He let it go, accounting it to the Legion’s unconventional methods.
“How long will I be gone, and do I need to bring anything, sir?”
“There’s no need to bring anything at all. We will provide you with clothing.”
“Can I at least change clothes?”
“Only if you’re sitting around in your underwear,” the captain snorted. “Just make sure you’re dressed for the weather and try to be down here in five.” Kilgore
hung up.
Asher let his phone hand fall limply at his side, continuing to lie on the bed with his eyes closed, second-guessing his earlier decision. He groaned, forcing himself to rise from his bed, heading straight for the bathroom. Finished with that, he was out the front door. He hurried down the hallway to the elevator, pulling on his jacket as he went.
Asher identified Captain Kilgore immediately, finding him as he exited the double doors of the apartment building. He wasn’t sure why the man’s profession and rank were so telling. It was just something about his posture. Asher made his way over the heavily salted sidewalk towards him.
“Hey, you Asher Blackthorn?” asked the captain, raising his sunglasses as Asher approached.
Kilgore was a short, athletic man with receding red hair, which he wore as a close-cropped crew cut. He leaned against a flashy red sports car, his black fleece jacket and dark clothing highlighted by the bright color.
“That would be me,” Asher replied, looking past him at the car. It was a new Ford Mustang, a car he could never afford on his salary. As much as he admired the vehicle, it only confirmed his initial thought. The captain had to be having a major mid-life crisis.
“I’m Hector Kilgore.” The man extended his hand to shake, ignoring how Asher stared at the car. ”I’ll be your captain in the…” He looked both ways to see if there might be anyone listening before continuing. “It’s real easy to forget that you shouldn’t mention our name or what we do in public. You never know who might be listening. Seems like the enemy has eyes and ears everywhere these days. Just get in the car before I accidentally say something I shouldn’t.”
The captain moved around the car to the driver’s side, just as Asher opened the passenger door and crawled in. Kilgore had spared no expense, the Mustang’s interior upholstered all in black leather.
“So Greaves didn’t want in on this?” Asher adjusted his seat belt. “He seemed pretty interested in me last night. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s too high up.”
Fall Prey: The Hunt Page 9