The Wolf Soul - Part Six
#6 of The Wolf Soul (TF/TG Themes)
The Wolf Soul - Part Six
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Hehhey, folks, you know the drill, a commission ongoing for
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Brandon was used to having the hospital staff greet him by name when he showed up, but he did not like the fact that the same thing had happened so swiftly at the exclusive Krieger-Jansen Clinic as well. He was met by nods and smiles and polite "Good morning, Mister Collier" when he entered from the elevator into the 12thfloor foyer. The room was round, with corridors leading into other parts of the floor like the spokes of a wheel. The admittance was curved, a warm shade of wood and brass lettering, and the computer equipment underneath its lip was state of the art, from what he had glimpsed.
The nurse was familiar, too, a middle-aged woman, dark hair, brown skin, with one of the funny little hats perched on top of it.
"I am here to see Mister Laurie," Brandon said.
"Yes, Mister Collier," the woman replied. "This way into the changing room for the patient suites, please."
He would've known the way on his own, but he was not allowed to wander around on his own. A male orderly took him in to a small room where he had to place on shoe guards, a cap, a mask, gloves and a gown, all made of white paper-like material, and tied on by the orderly. The staff wore blue outfits, to make the visitors stand apart.
The other door admitted him into a winding corridor. The patient rooms had windows that opened out to the city below, but the windows were tinted and one-way, so while they could see out, nobody could see in. That much they'd been told in the brochure found on a pad in the room.
Andy was seated on a high-backed special chair when Brandon entered. He looked even worse for wear, his head shaved hairless and smooth, dressed in a shapeless hospital gown - the one part of the equation that seemed to be resistant to the expensive makeover that had changed everything from slippers to bed remote into something of a piece of splendour. The room was impeccably comfortable, well-furnished with mobility aids and support equipment for even the most rickety of patients such as Andy. The large wall monitor displaying his vital signs, and the little bands around his wrist and his neck to take those measurements offered a small glimpse to the more clinical nature of the room. Brandon noticed that the IV stand had been taken out since yesterday.
"Hey!" Brandon smiled broadly through his mask.
"HHhhhh..." Andy greeted.
Brandon sat on a small stool by his boyfriend's chair and patted his arm, carefully, over the cloth. Andy looked tired, with dark shades under his eyes and a kind of a glassy expression over his eyes. He didn't seem to blink very often, either, Brandon noticed during a few minutes of spending with him today.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"HHhhhhhhhh..." Andy remarked.
"You can use the pad, if you like," Brandon said, "do you want me to get it for you?"
"K..k...k..." Andy said.
Brandon found the pad still attached to a special arm on the hospital bed that had been disguised with the careful use of wood in its construction. He brought the pad over to the chair and attached it into a similar implement on its armrest that allowed him to position it, and to help Andy to put his hand over its touch-sensitive screen. He began to type slowly, as much as his stiff fingers allowed. It took a moment for him to formulate words that were then printed out on the screen. The speech synthesis was offline, because neither of them liked the artificial voice. Reading would do for now.
"Hey handsome."
"Hey to you too," Brandon smiled.
"Nervous?"
"Yeah," Brandon nodded. "Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Not much longer..." Brandon mused.
"Moment of the truth."
"Yeah, talk about it."
"It will be fine."
"I know, I know," Brandon said, "just...hard to think about anything else."
"It is a beautiful day. Should go out and have a walk while I'm under."
Brandon huffed.
"I'll probably be pacing the corridors."
"Should relax."
"Easy for you to say, you'll be sleeping!"
"I will dream about you."
"That's sweet," Brandon smiled. He hated that he couldn't really touch Andy, now - the rounds of pre-medication had reduced his immune system to a shadow of itself, in an attempt to make sure that his body would not try to resist the gene therapy he was about to undergo. It was very important not to expose him to any diseases now, that could mess things up later on when he was recovering.
"Look at my right hand."
Brandon did. The right hand remained curled against his boyfriend's belly, but it was perfectly still, but for a little occasional twitch of the thumb.
"Wow..."
"No drugs no tremor."
"Extraordinary," Brandon said.
"Should have quit earlier."
Andy let out a wheeze that passed for a laugh.
"Ha-ha," Brandon said.
"They will take me soon."
"I know," Brandon said.
"Hope to see you in two days when they allow visitors again."
"I'll be waiting outside the door," Brandon assured him.
"HHhhhhh," Brandon voiced. He typed some more.
"I sent something to your email. It's what I want you to do if something goes wrong."
Brandon's chest tightened.
"We...we talked about that, didn't we?"
The corner of Andy's mouth twitched.
"I know. But it's all there again if you need it. I hope you will read it."
"I'll only read it if I have to," Brandon replied. "I don't think I can read it otherwise."
"You should."
"No," Brandon said. "You can ask me a lot of things but not that."
Andy sniffled.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
"I just want you to be happy, with or without me."
"Preferably with you, thank you," Brandon said, "and there's no changing that."
"I don't want it changed."
They stayed there, quietly regarding one another before the door opened and a nurse entered, with the IV stand.
"A final round of medication before the procedure, Mister Laurie," he said, "and I have to ask guests to leave, Mister Collier. Medicine will be administered."
It truly was a time to leave.
"I love you," Brandon said, "I have to go...I'll be here soon."
He had the time to lean over to see the reply before he was ushered away.
"Love u too."
He was glad the mask made it difficult to see his expression.
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On the 9thfloor, Doctor Cornelius Ambergris stepped from the corridor into a glass-walled alcove that overlooked one of his primary laboratories. Beyond the partition, workers in white coveralls, complete with headrests and high-filtrations masks sat in front of computers and shiny metal cabinets that had countless tubes and wires curling between them. There seemed to be a kind of and ordained chaos that existed among the equipment, but one that did not extend to the methods of the people within. The white-coated lion announced his presence by pressing a button on the intercom, which he knew would send a squeak into the circuit.
"Doctor Lister," he said.
One of the white snowmen turned his head away from a computer screen and glanced in the direction of the alcove.
"Yes, Doctor Ambergris?" a youthful voice replied.
"Is the induction agent ready for our twelve o'clock appointment?"
"Yes, Doctor. Version 6.21 incorporating the final alterations to the sequence is currently being replicated in the reactor and should be ready in a few minutes."
"Did the immunological cultures come out clean?" the lion asked.
"They've all tested positive. The immunocompatibility of the strain and the host vs. agent ratio is acceptable. We should have no trouble after the pre-medication."
"Good. Patient is being prepared in number two," the lion spoke to the intercom microphone, "I expect you to be ready."
"It will be ready for induction, Doctor. The strain is pure."
"I expect nothing less," the lion replied. "I will meet you at number two."
"Yes, Doctor. I will be there in half an hour."
"I will go prepare now. See you soon."
"Yes, Doctor."
The lion departed, leaving the laboratory to concentrate on their jobs. Doctor Lister, 26, a brilliant mind headhunted from Harvard's bio sciences research laboratory, sighed. He'd been in the laboratory since 6 am. A sudden instability in the RNA sequence for Subject Laurie had forced them to do a few alterations and go to version 6.21 at the last minute. It was hardly disastrous, but a rare situation this late in the genetic recombination process.
One of the monitors in his workstation showed a computer-generated simulation of the actual physical configuration of the virus, a rotating green ball with strange mushroom-like proteins protruding from its surface. It looked like a dog's chew toy. It represented hundreds of work hours, and a few million dollars, and the usage of state of the art DNA sequencing machinery, two supercomputers and the consumption of copious amounts of coffee. The result, which even now was having a great time replicating itself in some white cells harvested from Mister Laurie, was an overweight bastard loaded with brim with recombinant DNA from canis lupus that would change one life for the better...or worse. The job was intricate and complex beyond hope for a simple human mind. That's why the computer did the hard number-crunching, changing the entire DNA of the single homo sapiens, discovering all the wrong parts and putting canis lupus DNA in its place. The computer reduced the DNA into cubits, and the human hand was needed to tell which parts to change and which to leave in place. This case had been difficult because of the mitochondrial involvement, and they'd had to make sure that the virus would know what to do.
Doctor Lister stared at the image for a moment. He knew that the very same pathogen he had disarmed of its most terrifying qualities had at one point spelled death to countless millions before they'd finally stemmed the tide. Now he had reduced the virus into his own plaything, like a clump of Lego blocks he could disassemble and then re-built the way he liked.
He loved the job, with or without the pay check that was a considerable perk as well, as well as Doctor Aaliyah Law's sexy, warm voice speaking to him from the other side of the laboratory.
"Greg, I'm going to be needing the secondary clustery for my electrophoresis on Subject Hilton, can you spare it for me?"
The Doctor's heart leaped with joy at her lovely, smoky timber.
"Sure, sure!" he assured her, smiling through his mask at the sight of her brown, caramel eyes. "It's all yours, babe."
Doctor Law giggled.
"You're funny."
Life was great for Doctor Gregory Lister, MD, Ph.D.
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Thank you for reading! I hope you had an interesting time, and I look forward to your comments!
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