Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > The World We Live In
Chapter 2: The Drug
His mother was ecstatic. After hearing the news that she was applicable to the procedure, she left for the MRF the next morning.
If he was honest, he was glad that she was gone. It wasn't often that she left him home by himself. He couldn't understand why. He was responsible. He was, after all, twenty six years old.
The only issue that plagued him, was his trouble with mobility. At upwards of 360 pounds, any person would have trouble moving. Without his mother there to assist him, he would just have to grin and bear it. According to reports that he'd seen on the news, the recovery period only lasted a week at most.
Daniel couldn't help but wonder, however, what the procedure actually involved.
*
"Now, Mrs Kyne-"
"It's Doyle," Daniel's mother interrupted.
"It clearly states on your records that your last name is Kyne," the nurse stated, glancing down at the clipboard that he was carrying before redirecting his attention towards the woman laying on the operating table.
"Doyle is my maiden name," she said, averting her eyes somewhat. "I have been meaning to change it back for some years. I don't want any memory of my husband. I shall be changing it back during my visit here to Capital."
"Well then, Ms Doyle," the nurse said, smiling somewhat, "do you know what the procedure actually involves?"
She shook her head. "I know that it uses 'The Drug' but I never really understood how an operation is needed."
"Well that's because 'The Drug' isn't an actual drug," he laughed slightly, placing down his clipboard and moving closer to the table. Around his thin body, the nurse's surgical scrubs bunched and folded as he walked. "It's actually a transplant procedure. Some genius in the development lab named it 'The Drug' as an ironic joke."
*
"I don't get it," General Miles grunted, collapsing into a wide set leather chair across from his associate.
No more than five minutes after his argument on the phone, the head of Research and Development had rung him up about an issue.
"You dot have to get it," Dr Brandon said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You just need to know that people are dying and if we don't do something, we're going to have a full scale riot on our hands."
"Incase you haven't noticed, we have one now," Miles sated in a matter of fact manner. "I shouldn't have to remind you of the terrorist attack. Jesus, your mentor may still be trapped in the basement of his lab."
"Believe me, if this gets out it will be a damn sight worse," the Doctor paused and sighed to himself, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him. "And I haven't forgotten about the Professor. I'm one of the scientists that's attempting to let you borrow a construction robot. Until the proposal passes, you just have to grin and bear it..."
"So what is this that you're so worried about getting out?"
"The Drug."
As he reclined in his chair, General Miles knitted his brows together.
"There have been....problems with it."
"What kind of problems?" Miles questioned.
"Do you know how 'The Drug' actually works, General?" Dr Brandon asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning forwards even further. When his associate provided him with no response, he proceeded to explain. "Ever wondered why the doctors take a blood sample when you're born? They keep your DNA in archives. So when the time comes, they can clone replacement parts. If you're at high risk of developing cancer, they bring out your archive, clone the necessary parts and implant you with replacements."
"So what's the problem?" Miles grunted. "It sounds pretty logical to me."
"It's something to do with the cloning process," Brandon elaborated. "Not everyones cells take too well to the accelerated growth. That's why you need to be assessed before undergoing the procedure. If it goes wrong, there's a risk."
"A risk of what?" Miles grunted, confusion flashing across his aged features.
"Mutation."
"You mean like-?"
"Put simply, yes," the doctor replied. "The root of that problem was indeed The Drug. However, most people aren't so lucky. The mutation, for most, equals death."
"Then why in God's name are you still letting the procedure go ahead?!" Miles shouted, gritting his teeth.
"It's not my call to make," Dr Brandon sighed, averting his eyes and rising to his feet. Turning away from the General, he let out another sigh. "I wish that I could, but I can't..."
"Your the chief of R&D!" Mile shouted again. "If it's not your call, then whose is it?!"
"The Chief of Medicine."
"Then try to persuade him!" General Miles arose from his seat. "I am not going to sit by waiting for this shit to hit the fan and then be expected to clean it up!"
"His logic is that the people who die from the procedure would die from cancer anyway. And those that it saves are a gain from nothing."
*
"Now I'm going to inject you with a sedative, okay," the nurse said, calmly flicking the syringe before squirting out several drops of the contained liquid.
Ms Doyle nodded her head as she shifted her laying position on the operating table.
"You will fall asleep quickly, and the doctors will be in to operate on you," he smiled reassuringly. "The entire process will be over in a little under two hours. You'll wake up and everything will be fine."
His mother was ecstatic. After hearing the news that she was applicable to the procedure, she left for the MRF the next morning.
If he was honest, he was glad that she was gone. It wasn't often that she left him home by himself. He couldn't understand why. He was responsible. He was, after all, twenty six years old.
The only issue that plagued him, was his trouble with mobility. At upwards of 360 pounds, any person would have trouble moving. Without his mother there to assist him, he would just have to grin and bear it. According to reports that he'd seen on the news, the recovery period only lasted a week at most.
Daniel couldn't help but wonder, however, what the procedure actually involved.
*
"Now, Mrs Kyne-"
"It's Doyle," Daniel's mother interrupted.
"It clearly states on your records that your last name is Kyne," the nurse stated, glancing down at the clipboard that he was carrying before redirecting his attention towards the woman laying on the operating table.
"Doyle is my maiden name," she said, averting her eyes somewhat. "I have been meaning to change it back for some years. I don't want any memory of my husband. I shall be changing it back during my visit here to Capital."
"Well then, Ms Doyle," the nurse said, smiling somewhat, "do you know what the procedure actually involves?"
She shook her head. "I know that it uses 'The Drug' but I never really understood how an operation is needed."
"Well that's because 'The Drug' isn't an actual drug," he laughed slightly, placing down his clipboard and moving closer to the table. Around his thin body, the nurse's surgical scrubs bunched and folded as he walked. "It's actually a transplant procedure. Some genius in the development lab named it 'The Drug' as an ironic joke."
*
"I don't get it," General Miles grunted, collapsing into a wide set leather chair across from his associate.
No more than five minutes after his argument on the phone, the head of Research and Development had rung him up about an issue.
"You dot have to get it," Dr Brandon said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You just need to know that people are dying and if we don't do something, we're going to have a full scale riot on our hands."
"Incase you haven't noticed, we have one now," Miles sated in a matter of fact manner. "I shouldn't have to remind you of the terrorist attack. Jesus, your mentor may still be trapped in the basement of his lab."
"Believe me, if this gets out it will be a damn sight worse," the Doctor paused and sighed to himself, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him. "And I haven't forgotten about the Professor. I'm one of the scientists that's attempting to let you borrow a construction robot. Until the proposal passes, you just have to grin and bear it..."
"So what is this that you're so worried about getting out?"
"The Drug."
As he reclined in his chair, General Miles knitted his brows together.
"There have been....problems with it."
"What kind of problems?" Miles questioned.
"Do you know how 'The Drug' actually works, General?" Dr Brandon asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning forwards even further. When his associate provided him with no response, he proceeded to explain. "Ever wondered why the doctors take a blood sample when you're born? They keep your DNA in archives. So when the time comes, they can clone replacement parts. If you're at high risk of developing cancer, they bring out your archive, clone the necessary parts and implant you with replacements."
"So what's the problem?" Miles grunted. "It sounds pretty logical to me."
"It's something to do with the cloning process," Brandon elaborated. "Not everyones cells take too well to the accelerated growth. That's why you need to be assessed before undergoing the procedure. If it goes wrong, there's a risk."
"A risk of what?" Miles grunted, confusion flashing across his aged features.
"Mutation."
"You mean like-?"
"Put simply, yes," the doctor replied. "The root of that problem was indeed The Drug. However, most people aren't so lucky. The mutation, for most, equals death."
"Then why in God's name are you still letting the procedure go ahead?!" Miles shouted, gritting his teeth.
"It's not my call to make," Dr Brandon sighed, averting his eyes and rising to his feet. Turning away from the General, he let out another sigh. "I wish that I could, but I can't..."
"Your the chief of R&D!" Mile shouted again. "If it's not your call, then whose is it?!"
"The Chief of Medicine."
"Then try to persuade him!" General Miles arose from his seat. "I am not going to sit by waiting for this shit to hit the fan and then be expected to clean it up!"
"His logic is that the people who die from the procedure would die from cancer anyway. And those that it saves are a gain from nothing."
*
"Now I'm going to inject you with a sedative, okay," the nurse said, calmly flicking the syringe before squirting out several drops of the contained liquid.
Ms Doyle nodded her head as she shifted her laying position on the operating table.
"You will fall asleep quickly, and the doctors will be in to operate on you," he smiled reassuringly. "The entire process will be over in a little under two hours. You'll wake up and everything will be fine."
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