Post #116 March 19 2018

“Excerpt from The Farpool: Convergence”

As promised in my last blog, below is an excerpt from my newest book, with the title indicated above:

Chapter 1

Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute

Conicthyosis Lab

Woods Hole, Massachusetts

September 2, 2120

Angie Gilliam and Chase Meyer arrived at the Conicthyosis lab early in the morning, to meet with Dr. Josey Holland prior to undergoing the amphib hybridization procedure.  Angie was nervous.  She knew that her mother was adamantly opposed to having this procedure done, for when it was done, Angie would be an amphib like Chase, part Seomish, part human, and able to travel in and out of water, just like her boyfriend.

“You won’t feel a thing,” Dr. Holland told her.  “We put you in here—it’s just like a hotel room, go ahead, take a look—and you stay there for several days while the procedure’s going on.”

Angie peered into the comfortably furnished quarters.  Two rooms, a bedroom and kitchenette, with full bath and lots of screens, pads, tablets, TVs and other things to occupy her time.  “And it’s called a containment chamber?”

Holland shrugged, fiddled with some russet braids of hair on her shoulders.  She was amphib herself, but it didn’t really show.  The skin seemed as smooth as any middle-aged woman’s.  “Unfortunate choice of words.  I prefer to call this facility the ‘hotel.’  Sounds better.  But yes, in here, the entire procedure will be conducted.  It’s mostly automated.  The only reminder that this is a lab is that bed over there…with the arms sticking out of the wall.”

“Remote manipulators,” Chase said.  There were four articulating, tele-operated arms ‘parked’ in stowed position, hanging from a cabinet-like structure, with a bevy of cameras and instruments aimed down, themselves perched on arms.

“Exactly,” Holland agreed.  “During the procedure, there will be times where you’ll be in that bed—fully anesthetized—while we perform certain steps.  The medbot insertions, for example.”

Angie just shivered.  “You said this procedure has been done many times.”

Holland said, “Here at Woods Hole, the Lab has done the amphib procedure around a hundred and fifty times.  Haven’t lost anyone yet.”  She winced inside and realized she shouldn’t have said that.  Not everyone had the same sense of humor as her assistants.

“It’s perfectly safe, then?”

Holland nodded.  “Yes, of course.  But we do have some preliminary matters to attend to.  I’ll have to have you and Chase sign some waivers before we start.  Departmental…and Institute policy, you understand.”

Holland took them on a short tour of the interior of the containment quarters.  It resembled a small apartment and was more extensive than either Chase or Angie realized, with a small bed, toilet, kitchenette with sink and fab and refrigerator, and some bookshelves.  A vid screen dominated a small but cozy sitting area.  Along one wall, near the bed, a separate counter had been placed with ports above the counter for remote manipulator and surgical extension gloves to reach inside the containment zone, for samples, blood tests and short-range examinations.  Around the ceiling of the compartment, vid cameras were everywhere.

“First, you make yourself comfortable, right in that bed,” Holland explained. “The technology is largely based on use of genetically modified and programmed bacteria and microbial organisms. We begin with a genetic sequencing and a neural scan.  After the sequencing and scans, the bacteria and microbes are selected and ‘tuned’ to match yours.”  Holland was sympathetic to Angie’s growing anxiety.  It was normal; you could see it in their eyes, the way their lips tightened.

“Let’s go into my office—it’s just around the corner—and I’ll run through the tests and the basics of the procedure…what to expect over the next few days. Then there’ll be all the waivers and consent forms to sign.”

 

Later that afternoon, Angie announced she was ready.  She was already clad in a light blue hospital gown.  “Looks like a grocery sack,” Chase teased it.  That didn’t help.

She went into the containment quarters, gave Chase a quick peck, and watched with growing apprehension as the inner and outer doors cycled and locked themselves.  Her ears popped with the pressure change. 

I’m a nurse now, for God’s sake.  I put people under for procedures every day.  Why does this bother me so?

Maybe it wasn’t the procedure.  Maybe it was the outcome…she could still hear Dr. Holland’s words, describing the new abilities she would have as an amphib: gill sacs, cutaneous respiration, melanocytic modifications in her skin cells, tissue changes in her hands and feet, with barely discernible webbing.  “I’ll look like a frog on steroids!” she complained.  “I won’t be able to run laps with Gwen and the others—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chase told her.  “You can still run and you can swim like a fish too.  You couldn’t do that before.”

Angie seemed downcast the more she heard.  “I’m doing this for us, Chase. I hope you know that.”

They kissed and she disappeared into quarters.

The first steps of the procedure would be conducted in a bed-like cocoon pod in the front room of the chamber. 

Holland’s voice came over a speaker on the wall.  “Open the pod by pressing on the side…you’ll feel a series of bumps—when they’re both open, lie down inside, face up.  Fold your arms over your chest.  Then relax…we’ll do the rest.”

Angie gingerly lay herself down inside the pod, shifting about to get comfortable.  It was actually pretty cozy there, but she couldn’t stop the shakes. 

 “After you lie down inside, contractile fibers will unfurl and extend.  It’s perfectly normal. They will envelop your body.  The fibers have sharp tips.  You won’t feel it but the tips will inject a potion.  You will sleep.  And when you wake up, the first phase will be done.  If all goes well—“

Angie shuddered, wrapped her arms around her shoulders.  “Ugh.  If all goes well…I wish she hadn’t said that.”

“Ready, Angie?”

“As well as I’ll ever be.”

Then, the cocoon began squeezing her slowly between its wall segments, like she was being excreted into the pod.  The pod did look like a bed, a big oblong bed, encased in some kind of scaly outer covering.  Chase decided they looked like gigantic watermelon halves, even down to the black seeds scattered around the interior.  Those were part of the cushioning.

Angie made a face.  She lay back carefully inside the pod. 

For a long time, nothing happened.  She dozed off, then awoke hearing a faint whistle.  She sniffed something, it smelled like oranges.  Then she noticed a faint mist issuing into the pod. 

This is like being in a coffin, she thought.  She’d been wreck diving with Chase in tight spots like this, so she told herself she could get through it.  But she wondered nonetheless. What will I really look like when this is over…some kind of mutant gator? The mist thickened.  She didn’t know it but the mist contained the first wave of programmed bacteria.  The bacteria would begin the process, penetrating into her nose, her mouth and eyes, burrowing into her skin, breaking down tissues and bone and cartilage, rebuilding structures to begin making her more compatible with amphibs.

Of course, Angie didn’t understand all the details.  Her wristpad had been programmed to describe the process in detail, but the voice was soft and staticky and she wasn’t really listening.  Instead, she grew sleepy.

 That’s when the dreams came.

 

As a child, Angie had always been a serious person, committed and dedicated to whatever task she was working on.  She was extremely imaginative even as a very young child and often spent hours amusing herself with the VR slate (the oculus) and the holopod and 3d printer, creating and populating imaginary worlds.  She showed abilities as a filmmaker and writer/storyteller that impressed her Mom a great deal.

One of her favorite imaginary worlds was one she called Principia, full of kings and queens, fairy princesses and dragons and lots of horses.  Angie always loved horses.  Some of her own work with the oculus involved creating and animating all kinds of horses.  She had two imaginary horses, Lucy and Lucky, that she used a lot as imaginary creatures in her stories.

When Angie was four, her father Horace abandoned the family, for another woman.  The family was living in Gainesville, Florida at the time, and Horace was a professor at the University of Florida.  He taught American History and Political Science.  The younger woman was named Cecilia Fortnoy and she worked as an assistant staff aide to the Florida Governor in Tallahassee.  Horace became interested in her because he seemed to gravitate to woman who were “important” or doing important things in his eye.  Being around powerful people or celebrities always fascinated Horace.  Maggie, working in Gainesville as a waitress at a fast-food restaurant (Venetian Feast) couldn’t fill this need.  They divorced in the summer of 2106 and Maggie had to take a second, later a third job, to make ends meet.

Angie was devastated.  She felt totally abandoned. 

Working so many jobs to put food on the table, Maggie Gilliam (she kept her married name) was always tired and irritable.  Angie saw what this did to people.  One of the effects of Maggie having to work so hard and being tired and cranky all the time, was that Mom no longer had time to play games or do puzzles with her kids.  This made Angie feel lonesome and she retreated into her imaginary worlds even more.  At the age of six, starting school and Net Tutor, she was already writing and illustrating her own Principia stories. 

But nothing she had ever imagined for Principia ever came close to what she saw when she woke up from the conicthyosis procedure. 

This time, Angie knew she wasn’t dreaming.

 

The first day of waiting was the hardest for Chase.  He sat for hours in the waiting room at the Lab, amusing himself with games and stuff on his pad, then for kicks programmed the pad to google articles and interviews about amphibs.  Amphibs were the hottest thing now, even celebrities were doing it.  It was global.  It was a cultural phenomenon. Even Dr. Holland had gone through the procedure, though you had to look close to see it.

Chase’s wristpad chimed when a hit was made that matched his search criteria.  He’d dozed off on a sofa and forced his eyes open to catch the vid the pad was bringing up.  It was some kind of news item, something from Solnet, by the looks of it….

 

So that’s the excerpt.  Hope you found this intriguing enough to look for the complete book.  It should be available for download in early fall of 2018.

The next post to The Word Shed comes on March 26 2018.

See you then.

Phil B.