Substitution - Chapter 3
#3 of Substitution (TF Themes)
Substitution - Chapter 3
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Latest chapter in the commission for
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The lights were moving to another direction.
"What's going on?" Brantley asked, eyes darting to follow the lights.
"We are almost there, sir," the driver replied from behind the wheel. "The ambulance entrance is on the back of the building, so they're just going drive there."
The Institute stood amidst a small park-like outdoors area and was vaguely the shape of a baseball cap, with a flat, two-stories tall fan-shaped front part, over which the dome section rose and illuminated with floodlights that made the solar elements on the countless windows shimmer under the beams. It looked like a landed UFO for all Brantley could tell.
Perhaps that was a good sign, the wolf thought nervously.
The car swept along the driveway on the front and was parked. The near-silent buzz of the electric engine wound down.
"This is it, sir, the Nogura Institute," the driver said. "You are expected inside."
"Thank you most kindly!" Mister Biff flashed a smile. "Mister Kyle..."
"Alright," Brantley harrumphed.
The main entrance hall was ostentatious, Brantley thought, once they were through the sliding glass doors. Steel, winding staircases, holographic double helix statues, cleaning robots hissing and hurrying away when they detected that people had entered the premises.
"Mister Kyle, Mister Biff!"
A youthful wolverine approached them, clad in a perfectly pressed black suit and seemingly at ease with his immaculate appearance despite the late hour.
"Mister Naylor, I am your personal company representative and will be assisting you throughout the procedure," the wolverine introduced himself as he put his paw out.
Brantley gave it only the most cursory squeezes, before the wolverine went on to shake paws with Mister Biff.
"Our paths will part here, Mister Kyle," the beaver told him, "I will be in touch with the Institute later on, but from now on your father will be taken care of by the Institute staff."
"And he just arrived, too!" the wolverine said.
"How is he?" Brantley asked.
"Your father has been taken to the life support unit for initial assessment by our specialists," Naylor replied. "All the staff has been alerted and we are proceeding according to our usual procedure."
"So you are doing this...combinant thing now?" Brantley demanded.
"The medical team will perform some necessary tests and we should some initial results for you in a matter of a few hours," the wolverine continued, "meanwhile, you may wait in one of our lounges. Would you like to have anything to eat or drink, Mister Kyle?"
"I'm...not hungry," Brantley grunted. He felt like he wouldn't be able to swallow even a single bite at the moment, not with how his stomach felt.
"Perhaps later," the wolverine smiled politely.
"Right."
"Let me take you to your suite, then," Naylor beamed. "If you would follow me..."
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Brantley wished that there would have been a way for him to loose the track of time, but the huge wall clock made it impossible to forget the passage of the minutes ever so slowly in his perception. The suite was decorated in grey and blue, comfortable, almost too nice-smelling, and following the trend of holographic displays, stainless steel and glass. Even the chair was folded out of clear plastic and was more like a lounger, but it brought Brantley little comfort. His tail kept tapping against the edge and his ears bounced whenever he made the involuntary noise. His stomach churned. His brain hurt. He wished he'd taken the earlier offer of food, but currently he didn't feel like seeing the wolverine again. Thankfully the toothpaste smile muzzle had gone off to do whatever he was meant to do when not licking customer asses.
Most of the time his thoughts would drift to his father. Roman Kyle, Kyle Senior, his personal superdad. It felt like he'd always been there, through the good and the bad and the everyday drama that could follow anyone's life. His parents' divorce, Brantley being bullied at school, all the Christmases, his graduation, his dad's promotion...his father's calm presence had been there ever since he could remember.
He remembered their last conversation on the phone, before the accident. His father had been excited about some new recipe he had tried. He'd said he had someone special to impress with it. All of Brantley's playful poking had not brought the answer out of his mysterious father, and now...now it was probable that he'd never learn it, either.
"Catch you later, Brantley!" he'd said.
"Talk to you soon,dad," Brantley had answered.
He growled. He shouldn't have been torturing himself with these thoughts. If everything went fine, he'd be talking to his father in no time.
Or if everything goes to fucking hell, I'll never talk to him again.
The young wolf hugged himself. It was hard to believe that the sorrow and grief he was feeling could actually hurt so much, physically. He thought he had known grief before. The fear and confusion of his parents breaking up, his uncle's death and how it had devastated his father, every single setback in his life that had made him want to curl down and cry the pain away. None of that could compare to what he was feeling at this very moment, on the uncomfortable chair and wondering whether life could provide an even further kick in the head.
"Mister Kyle?"
At first he thought it was a hysterical hallucination, the voice, but it ended up being a vixen wearing black scrubs, which seemed rather ominous in contrast to the white hospital-like decor of the suite. She was accompanied by a Rottweiler. His scrubs were in a less sinister shade of blue.
"Mister Kyle?" the vixen questioned again.
"Yeah," Brantley got up.
"Doctor Ivy Joliot," she offered her paw along with her drawling greeting. "I am the chief quantum neuroscientist."
"Brantley Kyle," the wolf grunted.
"Peter Cordon," the Rottweiler took his turn. "I am the leading bio-recombination officer here at the Nogura Institute."
"Are you in charge of my father's treatment?" Brantley questioned the pair intently.
"Yes," the vixen replied. "He is our responsibility."
"What's up then?" the wolf's question was as passionate as his body language, inquisitive and slightly out of control. "How is he?"
"Mister Kyle, your father's condition deteriorated when he was being prepared for the phasing procedure," Doctor Joliot said. "He suffered a cardiac arrest about two hours ago."
Brantley bit his teeth together.
"Two hours ago? Does that mean he's gone?" he managed.
"Your father is in life support," the vixen replied. "We are maintaining his body with a device that takes over the functions of the lungs and the heart for the moment. His status is stable for the moment."
Brantley felt relieved. He also knew it was going to be short-lived relief. That only could have meant more tubes, and even less time. He didn't want to think about it. The implications were even scarier.
"So what does this mean for what you do here?" Brantley huffed. "Does this mean you can't proceed.?"
"It means nothing," the Rottweiler said. "My part is already done. Your father's recombinant is thriving."
"It's here?" Brantley breathed. "Already?"
"Yes," Doctor Cordon sounded almost smug. "DNA implantation was performed as soon as he arrived, and his recombinant is thriving. And growing, too."
"Growing..." Brantley mumbled.
"Well it has a lot of catching up to do," the Rottweiler said.
"And that is where we get to my part of the procedure, "Doctor Joliot said. "Your father's neuropsychological component is being scanned as we speak."
"Scanned..."
"It is a highly technical and proprietary procedure, and I am not free to discuss all the details, but we are still in the process of mapping your father's brain for the transfer from his biological component into the recombinant."
"I don't need to know how it's done, it doesn't matter if you don't want to tell me," Brantley grunted. "I just want to know what's going on with my father."
"The brain mapping procedure is expected to continue for the next three hours at least. It is a challenging case, but we hope that our new marker technique will produce a very agreeable result," the vixen said.
"So you think he'll be back?" Brantley asked. "I can't claim that I understand everything you do here, but I know that you use a computer to...to read his brain, somehow, and then...print that information into the...the new body?"
"That is correct, mister Kyle," the vixen said. "Once the recombinant's neocortex reaches a certain level of development, we will perform such a transfer."
"Neo what?"
"His brain, Mister Kyle," the Rottweiler smiled broadly. "We are going to rebuild his brain."
"I must give you a fair warning, however, Mister Kyle," doctor Joliot said, sounding more serious than before, "the damage done to his brain due to the accident is extreme. We will do our best in reconstruction, but at this point it is still very difficult to predict the outcome of the procedure."
"So it could fail," Brantley said. "He might not be...not be him, is that what you mean?"
"The recombinant is an approximation that retains the qualities of the original biological and neuropsychological components," Doctor Cordon spouted eagerly, "we do not make copies here. That is much too inexact. We make recombinants. We produce - "
Brantley flicked his ears at the canine and let them fall flat against his skull. His tail was tucked tensely between his legs.
"I just want to know whether this is going to bring my father back or not," the wolf hissed. "I can't understand a single word you're saying."
"Did your personal worker not explain this to you, Mister Kyle?" the vixen asked.
"I've had it with your workers, insurance companies, and procedures," Brantley grunted. "I haven't slept properly in six days and I'm being given this bullshit by everyone I talk to, and nobody is willing to tell me what is going on with my father!"
"Perhaps Mister Naylor should come here and -"
"I want to see him," Brantley said intently. "I want to see my father."
"I'm afraid that is not possible," Doctor Joliot said. "The life support room is a restricted area."
"I'm not there to look at your secrets, I just want to see my father!" Brantley yelled. "I want to see him and I want to hold his paw and - "
His voice broke into a growl and he gripped his muzzle. His shoulders shook with the tension growing in his body. He turned away from the two doctors he didn't want to look at. He didn't want them to see.
"Mister Kyle - "
"NGhhhhh..."
"After the scan is over, perhaps," Doctor Joliot said. "Things are rather critical at the moment, if you understand."
"I just - " Brantley breathed.
There was a soft beep, followed by the vixen speaking again.
"I am needed at the containment laboratory," Doctor Joliot said. "Excuse me, Mister Kyle. Doctor Cordon may continue answering some of your questions, if you have any."
"I just want to see him."
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Thank you for reading! I hope you had a good time, and I look forward to hearing your comments. Cheers!
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