Loadstar 118/118.d81/sr.momma 3

Text File | 2022-08-26 | 27KB | 1,003 lines

Chapter 3: I'm Gonna Get You!

    The tech opened his door without
knocking.  "Doctor, we have a serious
problem here."

    Dr. Jackson had no desire to
listen to the complaints of Med Tech
Cynthia Cloud, no matter how
professional she was -- or how
beautiful.  In the short time they
had worked together she had been
complaining about every broken
regulation -- as if she expected
change.  He would have to have her
replaced soon.

    "What is it now, Miss?"

    "Med-Tech Cloud or Ms. Cloud,
thank you."  She resembled his wife
-- though much younger and shapelier.
 She wore her hair in thin straight
braids that hung straight, cut in
sharp edges, making her resemble an
ancient Egyptian princess.

    "What is it?"

    "I requisitioned anything besides
the normal sedative for this
morning's operation, yet I see three
new boxes of the same sedative in the
supply room."

    "I realize..."

    "This is a long-term project,
Doctor!  My patient should be on a
rotating regimen of..."

    Jackson finished for her,  "...
varying chemicals in order to avert
chemical dependency and risk of
carcinogenesis.  I graduated medical
school, too, you know.  I also know
that this is an old ape.  She'll be
dead before the decade is up --
unless she plans on breaking world
records."

    "Then..."

    Dr. Jackson stood,  "Your patient
is an ape.  Not a human.  She can't
sue you.  She's not even a good ape.
She's tempermental.  The drug is the
only thing that calms her."

    The Ms. Cloud nodded,  "Then
you're admitting to using her
dependency on drugs as a means of
controlling her?"

    "I didn't admit that and you know
it."

    "But you are."

    "Have you any idea what the drugs
you requisitioned cost?  We're
talking about Gertrude here.  Give
her a double dose!"

    "She's shrugging off double doses
now."

    "Then triple them!  She's not
going to up and sue you!  Do you hear
her complaining?"

    She reflected for moments,  "Yes!
 And now that you've effectively
raised the cost of sedating Gertrude
by fifty percent, you've out-spent
the cost of a rotating regimen by ten
percent!  You're also risking the
welfare of the human embryos she
carries now.  Cutting corners just
doesn't work in medicine..."

    "I don't cut corners.  In order
to develop the custom pharmaceuticals
used here, I have to purchase huge
quan..."  He sighed.  "Is there a
point to this conference?"

    "The point is, I want my patient
on a rotating regimen as soon as
humanly possible or else I quit!  I
won't allow your penny-pinching to go
down as my incompetence.  It's been
officially noted in my logs and yours
that she's grown resistant to these
drugs that you apparently order in
bulk.  We are now bound by regulation
to switch her."

    Dr. Jackson sat and began
doodling on an electronic paperless
memo pad, attempting to ignore her.

    "Dammit, she broke an arm during
insemination!  Even under sedation,
she's just too wakeful."

    Dr. Jackson sat forward,  "Broke
an arm?  Is she alright?  What
condition is she -- ?"

    "No!  Not her arm!  She broke
Charles Medbalm's arm."

    "Oh."  He sat back.  The Janitor.
 "Our insurance will cover it, I'm
sure.  What was he doing handling
Gertrude anyway?"

    "Because you laid off my staff.
I couldn't get her into the harness
by myself."

    He corrected her,  "I laid off my
staff.  You've managed better than
I'd expected.  Besides, I raised your
salary when I fired --"  He cleared
his throat,  "Laid them off.  You
shouldn't complain.  The budget is
being maintained -- and you're ten
thousand dollars richer at the end of
the year for it."

    She seethed for moments,  "You
rotten bastard!  When it's your
radius tearing through your skin,
will you only be worried about your
damned budget then?"  She slammed the
door.

    He stood.  "Hey!  You work for
me!  It's not the other way around!
You hear me?  YOU HEAR ME?"

    She was gone -- and she was
right.  He lashed out at a desk
reference bookset on his desk,
sending it crashing into his
aquarium.

    He sighed, holding his head in
his hands.  He couldn't believe that
he almost cried again.  Instead he
spread his fingers across the smooth
top of the desk, activating his desk
computer.  The flat screen, built
into his desk, flickered on, then
tilted up at a forty-five degree
angle.  He pulled an old-fashioned
QWERTY keyboard and mouse from his
top drawer and began entering
commands.  In seconds the budget was
laid out before him.  With Cloud's
salary, this year's grant was almost
spent already.  There would be no
more federal dollars.  Donations were
non-existent.  No university wanted
him.  He was running on family money
now.  This last project had to count
for everything.  Just one more
birthing and the documentary would be
complete.  Once aired, the hospitals
and universities would be at his
doorstep, begging.  He could move on
to horses, cattle -- anything less
dangerous than Gertrude.  Then his
vision would become an industry.  No
longer would women have to suffer
pregnancy to have children. He would
be worth millions -- billions.  Well,
at least his name would go down in
history.

    He sighed.

    Jonas Salk.  Daniel Cromwell.
Harold Jackson.

    In the same breath.

    He sighed again.



    "Come on, Gerty.  What is she
waiting for?  Push!  I can see its
head.  Push!"  Dr. Jackson urged.  He
was in a jubilant mood today, his
eyes bright, his words soft and
comforting.

    A blinker was there, hovering
smoothly around the room.  They were
called blinkers because they had
trained themselves not to blink when
on duty.  This blinker was black,
thin, and quite young, possibly in
his early twenties.  He padded around
the room in his sneakers, fluid
motion.  He trained himself to walk
that way.

    His eyes appeared white,
ghoulish, the cybernetic contact
lenses in place.  Attached to each
human orb, the parallax digital video
system would benefit from the human
optical system's automatic
compensation for bumps and dips.  It
also offered unparalleled tracking,
since it was easier to track a
fast-moving object with the eyes than
a camera, or binoculars, or a
telescope.  All the video imagery was
fed via FM transmitter, into a chip
the size of a cookie, resting in the
blinker's pocket.  There was enough
memory for another hour.

    The video account would show
without a bump on any monitor, as
filmed through the blinker's eyes.
Blinkers were sometimes called
cameramen much for the same reasons
his videos were called "footage" or
"film" when no video tape or film was
used.  Such anachronisms abounded in
most technical fields.

    Deep in the bowels of the lab,
beyond Gertrude's cage, the moment
had arrived.  A cool rainy night in
November brought labor pains for
Gertrude -- after being induced.
After resisting a triple dose of
sedative, Gertrude was vanquished
with a fourth, too drunk to try.  She
lay there on the table, strapped,
drugged, in stirrups and chains.  Not
only were her wrists and ankles
restrained, but her waist and head.

    She had given up on her attempts
at breaking her restraints long ago.
Her will had diminished with the
fourth dose, her entire attention
diverted to the two humans outside
the window.  As long as she fixated
on them, she escaped slumber, and
could protect her litter.  The same
human couple, from half a season ago,
was back, their grinning faces
pressed against the glass.  They were
to steal yet another litter.  She
couldn't allow it.  Those two thieves
were back to steal this litter from
her, without even allowing her to see
it.  A rage began to grow but the
drugs subdued it -- and the pain.
Her adrenaline flowed steadily, but
not enough to overcome the drug.  Her
eyes were shielded from the miracle
transpiring so near them by thin blue
linen, but she knew what was
happening.  She had been through it
enough times.

    "Pushing or not, it's coming!
It's the boy!"  The first of the
twins were out.  Gertrude attempted
rise and see the fruit of her pain,
but couldn't.

    Clair jumped three times,  "Look
at his little hands!  His little
feet!"

    Craig suddenly smiled, feeling
somewhat faint.  Damn!  He had a son!