Logs:Genetic Code
| Genetic Code | |
|---|---|
cn: medical abuse, death | |
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2023-05-25 "This could change the world." |
| Location
<PRO> A decade of developments | |
2007. <PRO> Mendel Research Facility - [classified location], Arizona Dr. Kolluri is staring at the screen for a very long time, eyes wide -- is that excitement? Is that fear? Is that a little bit of both? "Are you sure --" he's asking, and it's not for the first time. They've checked and they've double checked and this time he doesn't finish the question, just shakes his head, starts to reach for the phone. "We need to tell Taverty -- fuck, we can't tell Taverty." He's glancing towards the clock first, then rubbing his eyes. He drops down into a chair and when he looks over at Miriam the lab tech is practically vibrating with energy despite the middle of the night hour, despite how long they've been at this. "A secondary mutation would've been one thing, we've seen that before, a third would've pushing coincidence but this -- this!" She's gesturing eagerly towards the data. "All these years we've been at this, shit, this could close so many gaps for us if we figure out how he does it. It's that Mexican kid, right? We should get him back in here, first thing in the morning. This could change the world." The chill that creeps over the two here working afterhours is not from the cryokinesis that they thought was Joshua's when they brought him to the lab months ago -- that, definitely, wouldn't reach all the way here from the inmates' dorms. It's just a whisper of a thing, cold with disgust and fear at once, Total Killjoy to their elated mood. There's a churn underneath here, a thousand sickened and angry and uneasy thoughts all clamoring against each other but only one makes it clearly through, deliberate and vaguely annoyed: << I'm Mixtec. >> ~~~ 2010 <PRO> Franklin Research Facility - [classified location], Ohio It's been chaos -- for five minutes or five hours, Joshua can't really tell. There are gunshots ringing in his ears and his labmates are fleeing and he might have finally snapped because the voice in his head (has he always had this voice in his head?) is way calmer than it should be, directing them where to go. His eyes have gone kind-of-crossed trying to track the odd blur that keeps vanishing with the kids who can't walk -- can he walk, he's still taking stock -- and it's a strong supportive wing around his shoulders that reminds him to keep moving. They're almost in sight of daylight when one of the doctors, cowering behind an office door, finds enough boldness in him to step into the doorway. "Do you have any idea how many lives you could have saved here?" Joshua almost doesn't stop -- until he does. Not turning to face the man, just pausing a long moment in the hallway, eyes fixed steadily ahead on the slightly fritzing EXIT sign. "Think I still might." ~~~ 2014 <PRO> Lassiter Research Facility - [classified location], Ohio This does not look much like the standard testing rooms -- not for routine medical and not for the heavy hitters, either. In lieu of intense reinforcements or bland medical accoutrements, it's been outfitted with machinery of large scale and arcane purpose. Joshua is well used to his frequent trips through Lassiter, well used to the long succession of fellow inmates being paraded through for an exhausting and often dangerous rotation of abilities, well used to assisting with an endless series of demonstrations. This time it's odd; the first step, yes, but they're skipping the other two. Might as well be playing poker in here, just shooting the shit. He's good at the former, crap at the latter. He plays a lot of cards. Meets a lot of friends, pretty relieved, honestly, that their 'testing' sessions consist of Kind Of Just Sitting Around. It's only some weeks later, when the previously mostly dormant equipment starts to light up -- blinking when he can feel his test partners approaching, when he can feel the shifts and fluxes of their powers at work -- that a sudden understanding twists sick and stark inside him. He doesn't go to testing, then. What are they going to do, he thinks -- they sure as hell aren't going to hurt him, not seriously -- sits it out, refuses, until the day it's not No Food For You Today but his cellie's body there at roll call. Joshua wakes the kid back up, and gets back on schedule. Slumps back down at his table like he was never gone. "What happened to saving lives?" Dr. Taverty doesn't comment on his absences. Doesn't even look at Joshua. "I am trying to change the world." ~~~ 2016 <PRO> Hofstadter Research Facility - [classified location], Pennsylvania Graham Taverty is trying -- strenuously, if with middling success -- not to let his agitation bleed through into his voice. "What I have done here is unprecedented, Rasheed. I'm not going to let some ragtag group of terrorists set back a decade of progress. If you just --" "What you've done," Rasheed is not agitated so much as tired, slouched in a desk chair that he was rocking slowly back and forth; it has now come to a rest bumped up against a desk cluttered heavily over with papers, folders, notes, whose organization scheme probably makes sense to him and is chaos to anyone else, "is made yourself a novelty science project. It's not peer reviewed, it's not replicable, I sure as hell don't know who would pay -- god, what kind of money did you throw down the drain for that? For a project that -- what. Works if you keep one man in a cage for life? You think that's science? That is some sick fetish." "You do not understand how close I --" Taverty drops the finger he was pointing at Rasheed and straightens up, taking a breath. "How close we are to a breakthrough. It isn't one man, it's the entire field of metagenetics. But we will get there and you will thank me." Rasheed is rubbing his hand slowly against his chin, the stubble there grown out from -- what has probably been several days of lost sleep, since Oppenheimer. "Then get there." ~~~ 2023 <PRO> Lassiter Research Facility - [classified location], Ohio In at least a token gesture toward politeness, there is a knock at Lily's office door. The fact that the door opens immediately afterwards sort of cancels this out -- is it the thought that counts? The excited woman on the other side of the door, extra casual in jeans and DEFCON tee and large afro pulled back with a colorful headband, seems like maybe careful thought is a tricky feat at this exact moment, in a very over-eager kind of way; almost as soon as the door is open she's pulling it half-closed with a stream of apology followed by a stream of gushing in a pronounced Geordie accent. "-- Oh my god I am so sorry I should not be barging in are you busy? What am talking about everyone here is busy right now you're probably busy, it's just, Dr. Toure was absolutely raving about you --" About here is where she's coming in again, tablet in hand and hopeful expression on her face, to perch herself on the edge of the second seat in Lily's office. "-- and how you are just the person to talk to about genetics. An absolute wizard apparently. I just emailed you this small snip of a conundrum -- been hanging me up for what feels like a century I swear. Machine code I can figure out but code that makes us run? Might as well be Greek to me." Her hands have clasped in pleading, eyes and smile both wide. "I know you probably have so much on your plate but if you could at least take a look? I'd take you round for drinks, dinner, anything. Fully my treat." Behind her (new, electric sit-stand) desk, Lily's pulling up this small snip, glancing from her monitor to the over-eager engineer, then back to the code. "I'm not a biomedical engineer," she's demuring as she scrolls, "The interface with tech is really not my thing, I hope Dr. Toure didn't get your hopes too high --" Here she pauses, brows furrowing. Scrolls up. Scrolls down. "...You haven't activated the activation sequence properly." A few clicks and Lily is swivelling the monitor around, highlighting in split screen part of the original file and two other lines in sequences labeled JS and GT. "It's probably wrong a couple other places too. Give me a day or two to work my magic --" and Lily looks up, her small smile just shy of becoming a self-satisfied smirk, "-- and then you can buy me a drink." ~~~ 2023 <PRO> Lassiter Research Facility - [classified location], Ohio These sessions are long. They've been long, for some time; less and less respectful of the STERN WARNINGS on the Joshua Salinas Sign Out Sheet about not overbooking. Dr. Graham Taverty has never been particularly respectful of the needs of others, and in this final stretch of testing he has been even less so -- piggybacking on other people's sessions and then adding his own on top. He is in the middle of an impassioned rant as he enters the testing room, together with an orderly and a shitfuck Joshua hasn't seen before. The contraption he's holding in one hand looks like it might be something out of Star Trek, push a button on the tricorder and diagnose what ails you. What ails Joshua at this moment is probably obvious enough without scanning -- many hours and far too many swaps of power, probably nobody expects the man to be in Top Form just now. "-- Allred working the kinks out here. We could name any price on this thing." He's tapping one hand lightly against the device -- its signal lights as it aims at Joshua. Dies again when pointed at the orderly. Flares back to life when it is aimed toward the burly guard at the door. Dr. Taverty looks like he's already planning what he's going to say on his interview circuit. His next words would almost sound gloating, if they were aimed at Joshua and not past him, as if the man strapped into the chair there barely even exists. "Stroke of goddamn luck, Salinas returning now. Though with Elie's kid working his magic this security nightmare might be over soon." The other shitfuck is definitely gloating, though. He jostles Joshua's shoulder none-too-gently as he looks back at the not-a-tricorder which is continuing its satisfied ping in Joshua's direction again, so proud of the mutant it has successfully detected. "Might have to collect your Nobel posthumously, but you should be proud. You've helped us change the world." | |
