RR Lori Warren - Chapter 27 (Patreon)

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RR Lori Warren

Chapter 27 - Nightmare

[September 5th, 2005]

The nightmare of Michael’s precarious and unexpected situation unfolded in the most mundane of settings. There couldn’t have been more than half a shot’s worth of liquid in the flask but since Michael was so small, he had to tread water in order to stay afloat. He dipped below the surface once or twice as one of the careless women sloshed the flask’s contents, unconcerned with the monumental impact the shifting water had on him.  It appeared to be water, odorless and natural albeit a bit deeper of a blue than he’d expect.  But the alkaline taste, reminiscent of chemicals and decay, assaulted his taste buds. It was as if he was drowning in poison, every breath a struggle against the inevitability of his demise.  And he was the only one concerned with his survival; the women who had done this to him were  barely paying attention to the most significant struggle for his life, continuing on with their conversation prior to whatever the hell they did to him.

Dr. Bexley paused, her fingers tapping against her chin in thought. “What was I saying…Oh!  The importance of pre-RT screening! It's not just the final Pre-RT screening–the one we did right before reducing him–that is crucial, you know.”  As she spoke, Dr. Bexley gestured towards the pale blue manilla folder, containing a photograph of Michael. “All of it is important, from the moment they enter this building for the first time to the moment we press the big purple button and initiate the reduction sequence. If at any point during the Pre-RT screening we determine that there is a likelihood of non-Viability, it’s more pragmatic, from a resource and cost perspective, to just eject them from the experiment.”

She then looked down at the tiny naked boy she’d had to look up at just a few minutes earlier.  “But that’s not at all a problem for this little one, huh?” Michael felt a strange sensation, originating down between his legs and radiating up through to his extremities and Dr. Bexley’s eyes widened.  “Oh, look Jane!  It’s starting!”

As Michael swam in the thickening solution, veins of bright pink radiated inexplicably from his body into the pale blue solution. The veins extended, splitting off into their own intricate branches. They eventually circled the outer edge of the flask, emitting an attractive, eye-catching light. The bright pink veins started to bubble and then, just when it seemed like the flask might overflow with vivid pink, the swelling receded and started to fade to a lighter pink.  Dr. Bexley lowered her right hand into the flask and extended one of her fingers.  A naive subject might have thought she was reaching to retrieve him.  That’s what Michael thought. But instead, she gently pressed down on his head, fully submerging him under the solution. When she broke the surface of the solution, the pink liquid was thick and opaque. It clung to Dr. Bexley’s fingers as if it were pudding.

Dr. Bexley moved with practiced precision, her hands laying out a thick cloth on the center of the surgical tray. The fabric, pristine white against the sterile backdrop of the laboratory, seemed to shimmer under the fluorescent lights.

Jane watched intently, her eyes fixed on the raven-haired doctor who, with a gentle yet firm grip, reached into the solution.

The solution clung to Michael's diminutive form as Dr. Bexley carefully lifted him out, cradling him in her palm like a fragile jewel. Jane held her breath, her gaze unwavering in a fascination that wasn’t present before as the tiny naked man was set down onto the awaiting cloth.

“Is he okay?  He’s barely moving.”  Jane asked. Moments earlier, Michael’s movements were not that dissimilar to a wriggling fish out of water, but after his submerging, Michael appeared sluggish, moving in slow motion and getting slower by the second.  His body, once animated and lively was approaching staticity, now a mixture of bright pink and brilliantly vibrant blue.

Dr. Bexley waved a hand dismissively as the intensity of Michael’s trembling and struggling continued to decay.. “He’s fine.  The solvent in contact with the subject’s skin is merely crystalizing. Movement is getting increasingly difficult for him. Looks like it’s a good time now to do the first check.  Go ahead and grab the Sulfur Hexafluoride from the kit. Make sure the pipette tip is fully under the surface of the solution before breaking the seal.”

Jane did as she was told, inserting the tip of a relatively larger gas-filled pipette under the faded blue and pink pudding-like solution that Michael had been pulled from.  Jane’s black-painted fingernails dug lightly into the rubber of the pipette bag as she squeezed. She blinked when she felt the snap of the seal at the end of the pipette and the gas left the stem of the pipette and bubbled up from under the solution.

“Oh, the blue is fading..what does that mean?” Jane fiddled with strands of her short, black hair as the contents of the flask slowly began to change. The brilliant blue disappeared, taken over by the uniformly faded cloudy pink  and the thick liquid returned to a watery state.

“That’s a good sign.” Dr. Bexley said as she gently squeezed the subject’s arms and legs, noticing very minor reflex responses from the subject.  “It means we can move onto the last check...we just have to give him a few minutes to fully crystallize.”

Dr. Bexley stood up and carried the flask of pale pink liquid to the sink and poured the unneeded mixture down the drain. “Oh I just remembered, Jane.  Prior to the Reduction Therapy sessions, you’d had a question?”

Jane took a moment to remember, and then the recalled question lit up her face. “Oh, yeah; so we can’t use non-Viables for the rear-housing experiment. Does that mean it’s impossible to install non-Viables in a Participant’s rear?” Jane asked curiously.

Dr. Bexley placed the dirty flask in the sink rack for a more thorough cleaning later and returned to her seat with Jane. “That’s a good question. You’re asking if it is impossible to install non-Viables in a Participant rears.  Let’s take the nV you observed with Dr. Walker for example.  If memory serves me right, the Reduction Therapy metadata report from that session indicated that he was reduced to around a picometer in length.” Dr. Bexley’s brilliant green eyes went up to the ceiling and her bright red lips moved as she mumbled to herself.. “That is around 0.000000000004 inches in size. For reference, that is 18.5 quadrillion times smaller than normal...or 10,000 times smaller than the smallest known virus ”

“Whoas…that’s unbelievable, doctor.”

“And yet he experiences all that comes with that new reality!  Now…let’s assume you could successfully recover him...”, Dr. Bexley pinched her thumb and index finger together on Michael who was barely moving and lifted him into the air, bringing him around her body to her lower back. With her other hand, she pretended to pull an imaginary waistband, concealed by her lab coat, out several inches and lowered Michael

“...if you were in fact able to grab him, installing the non-Viable would be quite easy, no?” Dr. Bexley asked with a faint, cheeky smirk. Jane’s teeth appeared behind her thin lips as she smiled and then she quickly covered them with her gloved hand, “Yes, I think you’re right, doctor.”

“Careful not to touch your face, Jane. Not with the post-RT fluids” Dr. Bexley said with a smile.  “Yes, quite easy indeed.  Just as easy as installing a Viable like subject 298m here.” She returned Michael to the damp cloth. He was completely immobile now and certainly not for a lack of trying.  Wriggle as he might, he was as stationary as a bronze statue.

“So you see it's not so much the nV’s rear installation that poses a challenge.  It is, as I said, the idea of monitoring them,  tracking their adaptation to the environment between a Participant’s buttocks  over time. Of course it's also highly unlikely that the nV could ever be recovered. The chances that the nV would remain in the same install location after even several minutes of Participant movement is practically zero.”

“Despite all this, there have been a few nV installations over the years. Some of these participants are still housing nV subjects...presumably, anyway. To be perfectly honest, we installed them with the thoughts that in a few years, we’d develop the tech to identify and monitor their acclimation but alas, the advancements have been slow.  We only hope that they’re still there, tucked between their Participant’s buttocks, waiting for our technology to catch up with their exceedingly diminutive status…but anyway, i digress!   Their assignment to a Participant rear end is considered to be an offshoot of the primary housing experiment; it is focused more on the psychological impact such an installation might have on the Participant.  Communication with the subject at that size obviously becomes one-way...permanently.  In fact, we even wonder if they are capable of resolving sound at such a diminutive size, but I digress once again!  Obviously, there would be no measurable impact on her, physically speaking.  The impact on the nV subject, however, is likely to be significant but we lack the ability to measure it...for now at least!”

“So it's kind of like you are just making use of the nV subjects since you have them? That’s why Dr. Walker had me recover the nV subject?” Jane asked.

“That’s a great way to put it….rather...it WOULD have been a good way to put it a few months ago.  There are some interesting theories recirculating here about experiments that would actually be tailored specifically to nV subjects, some of which occur with our very own Dr. Becotte in The Third R, but they are still in very early speculative phases. Much too early to discuss...but Dr. Walker and I have ordered the preservation of a certain percentage of nV’s going forward.” Dr. Bexley said.

“Okay, but we still eject subjects from the experiment if they are potentially nV?” Jane asked.

“Yes, that’s right…but it sounds like you might have another question.” Dr. Bexley said, her eyes remaining on Michael as she checked his limbs again. The crystals were now rock solid and poor Michael looked like a lifeless, rigid  doll in the beautiful doctor’s fingers.

“Well...I’m just a little confused. If the screening says they might be non-Viable, why would they not just put them through Reduction Therapy anyway? Wouldn’t it make sense just to reduce them and just hope it works?  I mean, it sounds like even if we can’t have them be in the experiment we can still use them for other stuff, right? It seems like that would be win/win for RR Laboratories”

“That’s a great question, Jane.” Dr. Bexley commented. “There is actually a good reason why it is not constructive to produce nV subjects–at least deliberately–at this particular phase of Research & Development.  You see, the RT-machine generates an incredibly powerful capacitive surge. Through normal operation of the machine, several key components are destroyed. This may seem like clumsy engineering but it renders the machine what we would call ‘semi-single use’.  Deliberately frying certain components allows us to produce energy omissions that exceed what would typically be safe for personnel and subjects alike.  The controlled component failure essentially acts as a safety feature ensuring that all personnel outside of the clear enclosure are not affected or otherwise harmed by the RT-machine.  While I would say that this solution is not so clumsy as it appears, I must admit it is inefficient. After each RT session, we must wait for replacement parts to arrive and essentially rebuild the machine.  As a consequence, our RT-sessions must be spaced at least a week to allow for part procurement and replacement. So to sum up, producing subjects eligible for installation is a much better use of our time and resources than producing nV’s.”

“That makes perfect sense, Dr. Bexley.  Dr. Walker really has thought of everything.” Jane said.

As Dr. Bexley raised her gaze from the subject to meet Jane’s eyes, the fluorescent lights seemed to dim, casting the large room in a significant shadow. Her expression morphed into a subtle frown.  “Dr. Walker and I.”

Her intense, emerald green eyes remained fixed on Jane until she looked away, back down at Michael. “Well yeah, that’s what I meant.” Jane mumbled quietly.

Dr. Bexley’s frown remained painted on her angelic face for a few more moments, and then abruptly switched back to her normal demeanor: professional and friendly.  “Shall we conduct the final check?”

“Sure, do you need me to do something?”

Dr. Bexley motioned toward the equipment kit.  Among the plain white sealed containers of various chemical and molecular compounds, there was that one container–the one Jane had noticed earlier. This container looked identical to the others in every way except there was a large, pink sticker in the shape of a heart with  initials scribbled in feminine but messy sharpie marker.  The handwriting was a bit messy but feminine.  The label said:

Warren, Lori - Persp Sample

The seal was placed in such a way that it covered both the top edge of the screwable lid and the side of the container.  Dr. Bexley set the subject on a small scale. His frail, pencil-point thin legs wobbled as he found his balance but the raven-haired scientist’s full attention was upon the registering indicator screen.  “Subject 298m weighs in at 7.7 grams.  Jane, please note in the subject’s file that based on our offer of $80 per pound, the subject will receive $1.358.” As Jane began to write, the RR Labs co-founder instructed her to wait. “You know what…let’s round that up to $1.36.”

“That’s very generous of you, doctor.” Jane smirked, writing in the file.  “Quinn and I were looking over the fabricated studies that RR Labs developed for subject inveiglement the other day during lunch and I think I like this one the best.”

“Oh, is that right? You like the weight loss one?”

“Yeah.  I mean, I liked the one where we say we need to send them to a tropical climate and monitor their reaction to the humidity for an extended period of time.  And Quinn really liked the Green Climate Impact proposition, but this one about the weight loss just seemed like the best.” Jane said.

“Why do you suppose it is the best?” Dr. Bexley asked.

“It just attracts a lot of volunteers...what with all the money it promises...or seems to promise anyway.” Jane laughed.

“Well creating these inveiglement studies can be challenging at times, both creatively and legally as they must be constructed in such a way that our legal team can verify they would be comfortable defending their legitimacy.  I must admit though that this particular inveiglement study about weight loss was developed by me as a somewhat tongue-in-cheek joke.  I honestly did not expect it to do as well as it did, but it seems to work quite well on his demographic.  Not so much the older ones...they’re not quite as gullible as his demographic.”

“Gullible?  His paperwork says he has 2 college degrees.” Jane said, flipping through Michael’s files.

“Yes...and look where he is now.” Dr. Bexley said, holding him up, naked, vulnerable, and completely in her control in the palm of her hand.

“Good point.” Jane chuckled.

Dr. Bexley removed a portion of the clear liquid from the sample using a small eyedrop pipette.  “And now we are going to introduce the subject to some of the Participant’s perspiration.” Dr. Bexley emptied the contents of the pipette onto the stiff, unmoving subject.  Jane gasped as the clear liquid soaked into the tiny subject’s pink, crystalized body.  Before their very eyes, the crystals began to break down and dissolve.  The pink color started to lighten until it was completely white, and Michael emerged from the crystal cocoon.  He coughed and wheezed, fighting to regain his breath as the numbness retreated from his extremities. Despite the remarkable effect that the sweat had on Michael’s state, Dr. Bexley must not have thought it was enough because she introduced another large drop of sweat from the pipette, this time directly onto Michael’s upturned face.  “Always do an extra, Jane.  For good measure.”

“Okay, Subject 298m has passed his Post-RT screening and has demonstrated that his genetic makeup is pliable enough to be manipulated for his and the participant’s benefit.  I am formally approving him for installation scheduling.  I’ll just sign here on this line and you can sign right below me to say that you are co-approving.” Dr. Bexley said.

“This one is slated for 9...no, excuse me...10 acclimation sessions with Brandi.  It’d be best to get him over to her as soon as possible lest she start acclimating another subject.  We like our newly reduced subjects to have their first acclimation session with her the same day they complete Reduction Therapy.”

“Oh! Can I drop him off with Brandi?” It was the first time that Jane’s tone had reflected that level of urgency and Dr. Bexley chuckled. “Of course!  I love your enthusiasm.”

Michael jolted awake, the echo of his own scream ringing in his ears. His limbs thrashed wildly against the plushness of Lori’s fluffy socks, not entirely sure if his screams were the period at the end of the sentence that was his dream…or if it were the capital letter at the beginning of the sentence that was his reality.  Why did underwear drawers have to be so damn dark? Michael’s heart rate began to slow down, realizing that it was all a dream.  

Well, not so much a dream as it was a reliving.  Waking up didn’t make Dr. Bexley’s Post-RT screening poof into non-existence.  Between that moment and the one he was in now, he was still handed off to Jane, who delivered him to the bubbly, friendly ‘Acclimation Therapist’ named Brandi Thompson who was all too eager to get started with what would be the first of many meetings between the two. Injustice after injustice transpired, humiliating him and bringing him to the brink of a mental collapse.  That mental collapse was a thick black line that connected two points, the first point being the end of his “dream” and the second point being naked and vulnerable here in a middle-aged woman’s panty drawer...and she was likely still furious with him.

~