The two needles were carefully displayed and labelled on the surgical tray. Either ready for use, should that be necessary. "The secretarial one." Mark finally decided. Unable to give up on his friend, and imagine life without Eric.
The doctor extended the agony. "I need you to confirm, explicitly." he said firmly.
"Please give Eric the bimbo secretary injection." Mark said as calmly as he could manage.
- - - - -
His logic wasn't rigorous, and he wasn't even sure it could be called logic. But a sense that a secretary might have more autonomy, and control than a trophy wife, crafted to be the perfect eye-candy. He also wondered, and worried that a trophy bride might have too demanding a personality.
Accepting the syringe, the doctor dismissed the nurse and the alternative. Heading into the room, it was clear that Eric's need was urgent.
- - - - -
His eyes were glassy and unfocused, the surroundings clearly of little consequence. The pain killers were stopping him from feeling much of anything. The damage was catastrophic, with his limbs barely kept attached to his torso, it was genuinely hard to look at him.
Mark found the ceiling tiles a more distracting sight, as the doctor hunted for an injection site.
It was only as the doctor straightened back up, that he re-entered Mark's peripheral vision. Keeping his gaze high, he asked, "Is it done?"
The doctor nodded, a grim smile on his tight lips. Mark couldn't bring himself to look at Eric's body, it was obviously too soon for the nanites to have had much of an impact.
"Did...Did it work?" He asked, his gaze high and over the doctor's shoulder. He couldn't risk even an accidental glance of seeing his friends shredded body, it was going to be such a huge difference should the procedure work.
"We need to give it time." The doctor answered. A sweep of his arm inviting Mark to flee the room. There was a faint heat, that Mark tried to ignore. The nanites had more work than usual to create a bimbo secretary. The damage was extensive, they were replicating, and repairing at a rate their designers had never imagined.
This was normally an elective procedure, without the urgency, and generally performed on a healthy individual... a healthy female individual. To achieve the outcome everyone wanted, Mark had to pray.
A reluctant glance backwards, was pulled unwillingly from him as Mark felt the doors sway shut behind him. Their slapping back and forth, gave an insight. Eric's flesh was transforming. A healthier colour, a softer tone, the sinews holding the arms to his shoulders were thicker, and heading in the right direction.
Mark tried to keep his lunch down, a faint hopeful smile flickering uncertainly across his features.
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