Spinosa failing to pick in time with the Chief’s ominous footsteps approaching. “Just about to pick Chief.” She said hoping to cut off a terse reprimand.
Chief Haywood shook her head, “Change of plans you are going to do a talk.”
“Can’t Olson do it? He normally loves those soft ball assignments.” Spinosa said unenthusiastic about talking to a bunch college kids.
“Faculty asked not to have him back after being too attentive to the female students.” Haywood said, “You are up. Don’t be late.” Tossing a sheet with details of time and place. She left Spinosa to gather the lecture material. Spinosa understood that it helped keep them ingratiated with the scientific community. It occasionally led to recruits. An added benefit of keeping the public informed. But Spinosa simply hated public speaking.
Gene fiddling with the wiring harness trying to trouble shoot the problem. Professor Weiler told him the genetic synthesizer kept cutting out during critical portions of analysis. Probably overtaxing the computer but they paid him to make sure of and run diagnostics. The fine layer of dust inside definitely gave him an idea that maintenance and basic care might be at fault for any malfunctions. Shrugging his shoulders figuring he got paid by the hour it didn’t matter. With goggles and a mask on, battling dust bunnies a hazard of the job.
Exiting out scratching his head thinking over a mental check list. Double checking cord connections…check. Replacing any frayed wires…check. Individual systems functioning…check. Nervously he decided to power up the whole machine to see how it ran together. A humming noise sounding the device springing to life. No explosions the first good sign he laughed. Moving over to the chamber entering to make sure the injector powered up. Satisfied that the back light showed green he ran his eyes down the tubing. Rolling his eyes at finding specimen vials screwed in. They probably congealed not being refrigerated. Clogging up the tubing causing all of the problems. Unscrewing the vials he deposited them in a biohazard container.
Returning to the chamber to clear out the lines the injector activated. Laser guided targeting sighting him in. It stuck him in the arm. After pulling free Gene rubbing his wound. Next heading to the first aid kit washing it clean and putting a band-aid atop it. Shutting off the machine shaking his head. He didn’t put it into targeting mode. It must have been left activated when turned off. His removing of the vials clearing the blockage enough to operate. Reminding himself that no deadly disease research only basic genetic research and trying to gain better understanding of the building blocks of life.
Flushing the lines he forgot his injury. He wrote up a note asking the professor to check the programming because injector fired off without a set target and of the vials being left in the machine. Gene locked up the lab and headed to class. His side work paid well and got him access to many professors notoriously dismissive of student interaction. If you could fix their equipment they often came to you. Classes passed without any incident. Gene slipped in on a visiting Tfpd officer doing a guest lecture on ethics in transformation and the hardships of the job.
The officer sharing fascinating and often graphic pictures of the misuse and abuse of science. A man subjected to a growth ray that caused his head to rapidly enlarge till it snapped his neck. A woman trying to achieve a young look found themselves deaging mentally and physically stuck as a toddler. Sports stars looking for an edge falling prey to illicit options. All of the examples going horribly wrong. One boxer attempting to get a granite jaw found himself little more than a statue. A memorable transformation that made headlines Arthur “The Arm” Macnally. Throwing a deep pass during a game on live TV his arm elongated several feet before it flopped to the ground. Medical staff coiled it atop him as they carried him off the field. Never played a game again. In an interview he talked about shoulder and arm issues. He thought he would get a few years in with his treatment but he ended up needing to have it amputated.
After the lecture Gene grabbing a card from the officer wiping his sweaty brow. He must be coming down with something. Back to his room his vision blurred. It cleared with his head throbbing. He thought back on it injection his churning stomach guiding him to the toilet. Regurgitating remnants of his last meal. Standing on his wobbly feet attempting to reach his cell phone. Gene’s eyes rolling back as he fell on the carpet.
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