"Good m o r n i n g , gentlemen " Dr. Marshall said when
he finally positioned himself on the raised platform. He
ignored the microphone and just spoke to us in a strong
clear voice. "I'm so glad we can finally meet."
He had a slight accent when he spoke—European for
sure, maybe German. It was slight but detectable, espe¬
cially when he said finally, pronouncing the word with
a V sound, rather than an F. His tone was friendly and
he seemed genuinely happy to be meeting us. Right off
the bat, just as Drake had predicted, I liked him. I couldn't
help but feel a little in awe. I'd never accomplished any¬
thing in my whole worthless life and here was this
courageous man who'd earned worldwide recognition
and countless achievements all from the seat of that
chair. He'd been dealt a bad hand in this world and had
probably never complained half as much as I had. Made
me feel like a first-class loser. I didn't deserve to sit in
the same room as this guy.
Drake took care of the introductions for everyone.
"You'll have to excuse me if I don't get up to shake
everyone's hand," Dr. Marshall said, and everyone
chuckled, especially Red Beard and W h e e l s , who could
appreciate the humor far more than Bill or I.
"First of all, I want to thank you for agreeing to come
here today. I know how great your sacrifices will be and
I want you to know I don't fake them lightly. W h a t you
are about to do is a very special thing, not only for m e ,
but also for medical science and all the future people
who will surely benefit from our successes. I have a
much more personal reason to be grateful to the four of
you, but I'll get to that later."
Dr. Marshall paused to whisper something in Drake's
ear. Drake, in return, nodded, stood up, and exited the
room through a metal door off to our left. The door
swung shut, cutting off my view of him, so I turned my
attention back to the man on the podium.
"Okay," Dr. Marshall said." We've got a lot to cover, so
let's get started. As Mr. Drake has surely informed you,
I'm a surgeon who left behind years of public service to
concentrate my efforts on private research. My work here
is basically no different than any average research scien¬
tist, except I fund all the projects myself without the need
to grovel at the feet of the various bankers, government
agencies, and private sector financial backers. You'd be
amazed how much time is wasted by wonderfully tal¬
ented people who have to delay their research to beg for
further grants and loans. Trust me, delays and insuffi¬
cient funding can destroy you in this game.
"Fortunately, money has never been an issue here. Con¬
sequently, my research tends to flow along much smoother
and fester than m o s t If there's some new advancement or
technology available that will help whatever I'm working
on progress quicker, I go out and get it. Cost be damned.
Money is rather insignificant Knowledge is far more im¬
portant to me than dollars and cents."
One t h i n g was for sure. Dr. Marshall was a good
speaker. His compelling words and the conviction in
his voice as he said them had everyone's rapt attention.
The small conference room was silent while he spoke
and when I glanced at my three companions, they were
all nodding along with the good doctor's spiel, all of
them obviously j u s t as adamant in their thirst for knowl
edge over the lowly pursuit of cash.
W h a t a crock of shit!
This man was a billionaire—he could afford to talk
like that. We were all street b u m s , two or three missed
meals away from starving to death. N o n e of us wanted
knowledge. We wanted cash. Two million bucks' worth
to be exact, or why else would we be sitting here in this
room? I personally wasn't here to give my arm away for
the benefit of mankind—screw that—I was here for the
benefit of Michael Fox.
Still, the doctor's words were sincere and moved me
enough that I found myself bobbing my head at all the ap¬
propriate spots along with the other guys. W h o was I to
disagree with a billionaire, especially one who was about
to make me rich? If Dr. Marshall said we were here for the
beneftof our fellow man and to acquire knowledge—right
on, dude—that's what we were here for.
"For over thirty years," Dr. Marshall continued, "I've
concentrated the bulk of my studies on the human ner¬
vous system, or more precisely, the repairing and heal¬
ing of these nerves when they are damaged or accidentally
severed. Things like spinal column injuries, paralysis,
and accidental amputations are my specialties. Someday
I hope to tackle dreadful diseases such as Parkinson's,
epilepsy, and multiple sclerosis, which are all ailments
caused by genetically faulty or accidentally damaged
nervous systems, but cures for them are still a pipe dream
and a long way off in the future.
"When I started, people publicly called me a fool. No
one wanted to mess with the nervous system because it
was considered a losing battle. By losing, I mean there
was no money in it. If you couldn't get positive results,
you couldn't get the funds to further y o u r research, so
why bother? It was easier for scientists to choose other
.areas of specialization, where funding and results were
more attainable. I disagreed, and by the time I went
into private research, no one was calling me a fool any¬
more.
"Since then, there have been great strides m a d e ; not
only by m e , but by many dedicated scientists the world
over. I j u s t happen to have made more strides than
most."
Drake casually reentered the room, gave his employer
an affirmative nod of his head, and sat back down in the
first row of seats. As if this was the signal he'd been
waiting on, Dr. Marshall sat up straighter in his chair
and started rubbing his hands together, his excitement
clearly visible. W h e n he spoke, his voice was louder
than before and his slight accent even more pro¬
nounced.
"I could probably sit and talk for hours about medical
advancements and breakthroughs, but it's doubtful
you'd understand much of it, No disrespect, of course,
but sometimes the details can be a bit dry and confus¬
ing. I'd much rather show you what we've accomplished
so you can see for yourself how far we've come.
"We'll be taking a tour of the facility after lunch, but
for now, I've taken the liberty of creating a video pre¬
sentation of some of the highlights of our program.
That's why we've met here in this cramped room, in¬
stead of somewhere more comfortable. Mr. Drake has
assured me the video is ready to roll, so why don't we
watch it and then discuss things after it's done. Fair
enough?"
&nbs
p; We all agreed that was fine—what else were we go¬
ing to say? Drake waited for his employer's approval,
then went over to the switch on the wall, ready to dim
the lights.
"Oh, wait a minute, Mr. Drake," Dr. Marshall stalled.
"Perhaps I should say a few words about what we'll be
seeing on this video before we j u m p right in. It's j u s t
that the material you're about to see, well, it's a little
graphic in nature. Probably more so than you're used t o ,
I'm afraid. Medical science isn't pretty, to be bluntly
honest. Sometimes it can be downright nasty, but that
can't be helped. If the sight of blood makes you squea¬
mish or nauseous, feel free to close y o u r eyes or look
away. I thought it would be easier for you to see it here
first, on video, rather than simply marching you into
the labs unprepared.
"This will certainly prepare you for our tour later,
but the point of the video isn't to shock anyone; it's to
prove what we are about to attempt here can and is be¬
ing done. I truly believe we are going to succeed."
I wasn't sure about the rest of the guys, but I was sit¬
ting there wondering what he meant by that. W h a t was
it we were about to attempt? I considered asking the
doctor but he was busy shuffling his chair off to the side
so he wouldn't block anyone's view of the video.
"Anyway," the doctor continued, once he'd finished
repositioning himself, "enough said. Mr. Drake, let's
have a look, shall we?"
Drake immediately hit the lights, and a m o m e n t later
the large white video screen blazed into life.
C H A P T E R E I G H T
In total, the presentation probably only lasted fifteen
minutes, but it seemed three or four times that long.
It's hard to describe what I saw—body parts, blood, and
these strange machines that looked straight out of some
futuristic science-fiction movie. It was horrifying yet
strangely exhilarating at the same time.
Dr. Marshall had obviously developed ways to keep
organs and limbs alive, I guess was the best word. Some¬
how, he could take a severed leg, for instance, and hook
it up to this machine that continually pumped blood
through it, as if the leg were still attached to a body.
H u n d r e d s , maybe thousands, of these tiny wires were
attached to the stump and they must have been trans¬
mitting electrical stimuli to the exposed nerve endings,
causing the leg to move. The wires must have been
pumping j u i c e pretty good too, because in every exam¬
ple we were shown, the arm, leg, heart, or whatever,
would be twitching and dancing to beat the band.
It was an unusual sight indeed to sit and watch a dis¬
embodied hand open and close, flutter its fingers, then
flop around spastically on the top of a lab table. It scared
the hell out of me at first—creepiest damn thing I'd
ever seen—-but the more I watched the steady stream of
examples, it became more bizarre than creepy. Bizarre
is probably too strong of a word. Strange, maybe? Yeah,
I like that better. It was so damn strange to see a foot,
cut off j u s t above the ankle, rhythmically tapping its
toes to some unheard beat.
The most amazing thing by far—and if I'd seen it
anywhere else I'd have laughed and sworn it was faked—
was a human head severed below the chin, with its spi¬
nal column still attached but openly exposed in a glass
chamber filled with some milky amber-colored fluid. It
was the head of a male, a dark-haired man whose age
was virtually impossible for me to even guess at. His
eyes would open and close every four or five seconds,
his nose twitched steadily, and once during the thirty
seconds the head was on film, his mouth opened up wide
in what appeared to be a soundless scream.
Below the chin, where the neck should have been,
several red and blue color-coded tubes disappeared up
into the neck cavity, somehow connected to the poor
man's brain to supply it with life-sustaining blood. Be¬
low, submerged in the glass tank, a vast network of wires
and electrodes were connected along the length of the
man's spinal column, causing it to thrash around in its
watery home like the tail of a filleted fish that stub¬
bornly refused to die.
W h e n the video finally ended and Drake hit the lights,
the conference room was bathed in an uncomfortable
silence. No one seemed to have a clue what to do or say.
I mean really, what could you say after seeing something
like that? It would be different if you knew this was
some cheesy horror flick made with ketchup and cheap
special effects, but that wasn't the case. This was
real—all of it—even the severed head.
Still, as shocking and grotesque as Dr. Marshall's ex¬
periments certainly were, in the aftermath of the video, I
found myself far more amazed at the doctor's work than
"How on earth did you do it?" Red Beard wondered.
"How do you keep them alive?"
"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? That's
always been the crux of the problem. For years, sur¬
geons have been able to reattach severed limbs and other
areas of massive nerve damage, but the problem has al¬
ways been with the nerves dying and no longer being
able to function. It's useless to sew someone's arm back
on if the nerves are dead and it's j u s t going to hang there
uselessly. Things are getting better and sometimes the
surgeons are getting lucky with eighty to ninety per¬
cent function return, but more times than not, the pa¬
tient is only regaining about thirty to forty percent of
their original dexterity.
"Is that adequate? I, for one, say no. My goal here is,
and always has been, one hundred percent. My patients
will achieve total use and control of their damaged limbs.
That's a rather lofty, and some would say arrogant,
claim, but I firmly believe it's realistic.
"The trick is stopping the nerves from dying, which
is far easier said than done, but it isn't fantasy anymore.
W h a t you have to understand is that the human neuro¬
logical system is made up of billions and billions of
individual nerve cells, all lined up in rows like,' s a y . . .
a marching band. Not a great analogy but it works.
W h e n the bandleader, the brain in other words, wants
the trumpet player to perform a certain tune, it tells the
first nerve cell in the line. This first link in the chain
then passes the request along to the next cell until the
t r u m p e t player gets the message and starts playing the
song, or in human terms, the foot starts to walk, or the
fingers start to wiggle, or whatever. Get it?
"Well, when one of the nerve cells is damaged or dead,
the message from the brain can't be passed along prop¬
erly, but we've come up with a way to fix that. There are
a f
ew factors that are vitally important in order to succeed,
repulsed. W h a t he'd accomplished was nothing short of
miraculous, and sitting thinking about it left me speech¬
less. I had a million questions I wanted to ask, but couldn't
seem to find the words to start. Apparently my fellow
body part donors had been similarly affected by what
they'd seen. The looks on their faces clearly expressed
the same mixed feelings of horror, disbelief, acceptance,
curiosity, and fascination likely mirrored on my own
face. It was Drake who eventually broke the silence.
"Do you still need m e , sir?" he asked his boss.
"Err ... n o , Mr. Drake. You can run along if you'd
like. Why don't you check and see how Cook is coming
along with lunch. I'll j u s t answer whatever questions
our guests have, then we'll meet up with you in the din¬
ing room "
Drake nodded and flew out of the room without an¬
other word. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on m e ,
still getting used to the bright lights again, but I was
fairly sure I'd seen the front of Drake's tracksuit pants
bulging out as if he'd had an erection. W a s that possi¬
ble? I found it inconceivable anyone could find anything
we'd been shown remotely arousing. Incredible, yes, but
erotic—not a chance. Drake would have to be one to¬
tally sick fuck to be turned on by—
"Any questions, gentlemen?" Dr. Marshall asked, in¬
terrupting my dark thought. "Come now. Surely some¬
one has something they'd like to ask?"
"Were those things real}" Wheels asked, absently
scratching the stump of his missing leg.
"Things?" the doctor asked, being playfully coy. "The
body parts? Of course they were real. I should apolo¬
gize. I underestimated how shocking this all must look.
I did warn you the video was a bit graphic."
I almost burst out laughing. That had to be the un¬
derstatement of the year. It was like saying the Pacific
Ocean was a bit wet.
though. Time is one of those factors. The severed limb
can't be allowed to j u s t he around. Blood is another. A
steady and strong blood flow must be reestablished as
soon as possible. The faster this can be done, the better.
"This is where most scientists and surgeons go wrong.
In their haste to reestablish blood flow, they immedi¬
ately reattach the severed limb back onto the patient's
body. The blood flow is returned, but the nervous sys¬
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