Doctor Bruce Bailey II. Lead genetic technician at Ozcorp R&D
“Trial sixteen,” the tired man spoke into a recorder, rubbing his eyes as the centrifuge whirred. “The arachnoid sequences have proven to be the most efficacious, but no specimen has ever survived long enough for more than one trial. The longest we have kept a vector alive after the alteration is three hours. Human fatality rate, eighty three percent. Higher on any subject older than twenty. So far no transformation. Conjecture: a younger subject is more likely to survive. Possibly the DNA is more mutable at a younger age.
“Trial sixteen marks the first attempt to use a vector other than a spider or other species of arachnid. The relevant gene sequences have been condensed, our new carrier is a lab grown variation of Megavirus chilensis. The board of directors insisted, in spite of my voiced concerns about the comparative difficulty of controlling a microbial agent. Still, even I cannot deny the current data are promising. The first batch is still alive twenty three hours after alteration. They in fact seem to thrive in the mild radioactive environment of the holding canisters. Observation will continue for this batch, we will introduce the vector to the hosts in trial seventeen.”
He shook himself, realizing that as he’d been speaking he had absent-mindedly put his elbow on the lab table. Bad lab practice, but it was five in the morning and nobody was around to see it. He checked the clocks. Trial seventeen would be sequencing for another twelve hours. That meant he’d be in the lab at weird times again tonight, but he was free to go home for now, his steady hand and expertise not needed; the lab techs could handle the rest. He’d slink off and get some rest. Maybe drive his son to school if he got back in time.
Dr. Bailey scanned his way out of the lab, and walked out the front doors of Oz Corp to his less-than modest car.
~~~
Predictably, his son was already up and showered when Dr. Bailey got home. He expected Junior had been off for a run, but the kid never seemed to run out of energy, so it was hard to tell when he’d been exerting himself. Bruce Senior gave his son a one armed hug as he came in, moving around the banana that Bruce Junior was eating.
“Late night again?”
“Seems to be the norm, actually. Feel like I barely see you anymore, Junior.”
“Bruce, please.”
He laughed, “You get to call me dad, you don’t know how weird it is to call someone by my own name.”
“Whatever you say, senior.” his son rolled his eyes, and cast them back to the show he’d been watching on the kitchen television.
“So,” Bruce cast around mentally to try to remember what was going on in his son’s life. “Excited for homecoming? Do you have a date yet..?” he was somewhat hesitant on that part, because he honestly wasn’t sure if Junior was seeing anyone at the moment.
“No,” he answered shortly, and Bruce winced at the realization that he had somehow misstepped. Junior seemed to notice this, because he softened his voice and elaborated, “Training for the game has got me too busy for that kind of thing.”
“Oh, well. That’s too bad.” He trailed off and they were quiet for a moment. Then Dr. Bailey remembered what he had meant to do when he got home. “Say, it’s a nice morning out. How about I take you to school? I’ll let you drive.”
Junior brightened at once, “Sure! Can I put the top down?”
“How else will we make the best of the weather?”
~~~
Bruce Bailey III. High school student. Running back for the Garfield High Gorillas
It was a good morning. Bruce had made a pretty good time on his morning run. His dad had let him drive the beemer to school. Sure, having your dad in the passenger seat wasn’t the height of cool, but the car the seat was attached to kind of helped distract from that. He got above the grade he needed on his chem test to stay on the team(it was his worst subject, but lately he seemed to have a breakthrough). And he got partnered with that wicked smart kid for their next project.
He was just walking out of Chem when it hit. His vision tunneled suddenly, and he wobbled on his feet, clutching at the door frame as the rest of the students pressed around to get by. It was a moment before anyone realized something might be wrong. It was another moment before Bruce responded to their voiced concerns. It felt like he was feeling and hearing everything at a distance. He was getting hot, but at the same time seemed to be fading out. Just as suddenly as the event had started, he blacked out.
Bruce came to in the office of the school nurse, and he was not alone. There was some commotion out in the hall, voices talking urgently, but he couldn’t make out exactly what they said. Bruce was on a folding cot, there was a second one with another occupant. The school seemed to have run out, because the rest of the floor space was taken up with gym mats that still more students were lying on. Everyone looked as pale and clammy as he felt, but Bruce seemed to be the first one to wake.
“Hello?” he reached across and tried to shake his neighbor awake.
“Trial sixteen,” the tired man spoke into a recorder, rubbing his eyes as the centrifuge whirred. “The arachnoid sequences have proven to be the most efficacious, but no specimen has ever survived long enough for more than one trial. The longest we have kept a vector alive after the alteration is three hours. Human fatality rate, eighty three percent. Higher on any subject older than twenty. So far no transformation. Conjecture: a younger subject is more likely to survive. Possibly the DNA is more mutable at a younger age.
“Trial sixteen marks the first attempt to use a vector other than a spider or other species of arachnid. The relevant gene sequences have been condensed, our new carrier is a lab grown variation of Megavirus chilensis. The board of directors insisted, in spite of my voiced concerns about the comparative difficulty of controlling a microbial agent. Still, even I cannot deny the current data are promising. The first batch is still alive twenty three hours after alteration. They in fact seem to thrive in the mild radioactive environment of the holding canisters. Observation will continue for this batch, we will introduce the vector to the hosts in trial seventeen.”
He shook himself, realizing that as he’d been speaking he had absent-mindedly put his elbow on the lab table. Bad lab practice, but it was five in the morning and nobody was around to see it. He checked the clocks. Trial seventeen would be sequencing for another twelve hours. That meant he’d be in the lab at weird times again tonight, but he was free to go home for now, his steady hand and expertise not needed; the lab techs could handle the rest. He’d slink off and get some rest. Maybe drive his son to school if he got back in time.
Dr. Bailey scanned his way out of the lab, and walked out the front doors of Oz Corp to his less-than modest car.
~~~
Predictably, his son was already up and showered when Dr. Bailey got home. He expected Junior had been off for a run, but the kid never seemed to run out of energy, so it was hard to tell when he’d been exerting himself. Bruce Senior gave his son a one armed hug as he came in, moving around the banana that Bruce Junior was eating.
“Late night again?”
“Seems to be the norm, actually. Feel like I barely see you anymore, Junior.”
“Bruce, please.”
He laughed, “You get to call me dad, you don’t know how weird it is to call someone by my own name.”
“Whatever you say, senior.” his son rolled his eyes, and cast them back to the show he’d been watching on the kitchen television.
“So,” Bruce cast around mentally to try to remember what was going on in his son’s life. “Excited for homecoming? Do you have a date yet..?” he was somewhat hesitant on that part, because he honestly wasn’t sure if Junior was seeing anyone at the moment.
“No,” he answered shortly, and Bruce winced at the realization that he had somehow misstepped. Junior seemed to notice this, because he softened his voice and elaborated, “Training for the game has got me too busy for that kind of thing.”
“Oh, well. That’s too bad.” He trailed off and they were quiet for a moment. Then Dr. Bailey remembered what he had meant to do when he got home. “Say, it’s a nice morning out. How about I take you to school? I’ll let you drive.”
Junior brightened at once, “Sure! Can I put the top down?”
“How else will we make the best of the weather?”
~~~
Bruce Bailey III. High school student. Running back for the Garfield High Gorillas
It was a good morning. Bruce had made a pretty good time on his morning run. His dad had let him drive the beemer to school. Sure, having your dad in the passenger seat wasn’t the height of cool, but the car the seat was attached to kind of helped distract from that. He got above the grade he needed on his chem test to stay on the team(it was his worst subject, but lately he seemed to have a breakthrough). And he got partnered with that wicked smart kid for their next project.
He was just walking out of Chem when it hit. His vision tunneled suddenly, and he wobbled on his feet, clutching at the door frame as the rest of the students pressed around to get by. It was a moment before anyone realized something might be wrong. It was another moment before Bruce responded to their voiced concerns. It felt like he was feeling and hearing everything at a distance. He was getting hot, but at the same time seemed to be fading out. Just as suddenly as the event had started, he blacked out.
Bruce came to in the office of the school nurse, and he was not alone. There was some commotion out in the hall, voices talking urgently, but he couldn’t make out exactly what they said. Bruce was on a folding cot, there was a second one with another occupant. The school seemed to have run out, because the rest of the floor space was taken up with gym mats that still more students were lying on. Everyone looked as pale and clammy as he felt, but Bruce seemed to be the first one to wake.
“Hello?” he reached across and tried to shake his neighbor awake.
