02-04-2014, 05:54 PM
Torri spent the entire day tapping away at the keyboard, swiping through mountains of data, and perched on the edge of her seat until the results came through. Jacques' DNA workup took no time at all, but what slowed her up was the cross-analysis with about a half-million other genotypes.
Finally, she was in the middle of a chat with her mom when the alert flooded her workscreen. "Mom, I have to go."
Torri said swiftly, "Love to dad,"
and disconnected.
She filtered through screen after screen of data and sought the summary at the end.
'Environmental causation: negative. She read. A slow grin crossed her face for the first time since the Facility transfer went into effect.
"This means the genetic commonality linking Sickness patients has no environmental effect."
She'd never been so excited to see negative data in her whole life. How much she'd give for Jacques (or a first degree relative of his) to have had the Sickness! The conclusions would have been in the bag.
She sat back in her desk chair like a sack of potatoes. She finally had a straight path to pursue, thanks to a little extra blood of one charming French transplant. As she thought, her eyes drifted to the Ascendancy's symbol hovering on the edge of the screen, and she suddenly realized an idea.
Curiosity blinked away the fatigue from her eyes, and she went back to the reports from the Ascendancy's bloodwork. She chastised herself for not thinking of this sooner. Nikolai Brandon was another transplant just like Jacques. An American living in Russia! She ran the same cross-correlation analysis and after a moment of thinking, the system delivered the same result.
'Environmental causation: negative. But this time, there was an extra novelty. The same biomarker tags for the Sickness were flagged significant. Torri's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Ascendancy had the Sickness?"
If he had, she'd remained ignorant of it. Of course the man was in his sixties. If his onset fit the generic profile, his Sickness would have emerged at... the turn of the century! This discovery raised a whole other level of disturbance.
"Michael."
She said aloud, and decided it was time to talk to him. Not only about Jacques, but perhaps to pitch ideas back and forth. Besides, she was bloody tired of being treated like an outsider on base by everyone else. She shrugged into her uniform jacket, and left her white labcoat behind for the moment, and sought his office.
She raised her hand to knock, but noises behind the door gave her pause. She hesitantly turned the knob, and when the door swung open, she was met with the roaring heat of fire.
"Oh my God!"
She uttered, and was ready to spin to trigger an alarm when she realized the flames occupied a single towering sheet, like a pane of glass. Michael stood on one side, and on the other hovered a shimmering, opaque shape of a man lusting for blood.
On base, she wore no sidearm or other means of weaponry, but she wasn't sure it would have done her much good anyway. The creature screamed silent frustration, then dissolved like fog on a hot mirror.
The fire quenched suddenly, but smoke hung heavy on the air. Michael collapsed in his chair, seemingly unaware of her presence.
"Michael!"
She said. The pain on his face was plain. At least to Torri. She entered against all instinct to run away, and went to his side to assess the damage. Apart from making sure he was all in one piece, she had no words. "The hell?"
Finally, she was in the middle of a chat with her mom when the alert flooded her workscreen. "Mom, I have to go."
Torri said swiftly, "Love to dad,"
and disconnected.
She filtered through screen after screen of data and sought the summary at the end.
'Environmental causation: negative. She read. A slow grin crossed her face for the first time since the Facility transfer went into effect.
"This means the genetic commonality linking Sickness patients has no environmental effect."
She'd never been so excited to see negative data in her whole life. How much she'd give for Jacques (or a first degree relative of his) to have had the Sickness! The conclusions would have been in the bag.
She sat back in her desk chair like a sack of potatoes. She finally had a straight path to pursue, thanks to a little extra blood of one charming French transplant. As she thought, her eyes drifted to the Ascendancy's symbol hovering on the edge of the screen, and she suddenly realized an idea.
Curiosity blinked away the fatigue from her eyes, and she went back to the reports from the Ascendancy's bloodwork. She chastised herself for not thinking of this sooner. Nikolai Brandon was another transplant just like Jacques. An American living in Russia! She ran the same cross-correlation analysis and after a moment of thinking, the system delivered the same result.
'Environmental causation: negative. But this time, there was an extra novelty. The same biomarker tags for the Sickness were flagged significant. Torri's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Ascendancy had the Sickness?"
If he had, she'd remained ignorant of it. Of course the man was in his sixties. If his onset fit the generic profile, his Sickness would have emerged at... the turn of the century! This discovery raised a whole other level of disturbance.
"Michael."
She said aloud, and decided it was time to talk to him. Not only about Jacques, but perhaps to pitch ideas back and forth. Besides, she was bloody tired of being treated like an outsider on base by everyone else. She shrugged into her uniform jacket, and left her white labcoat behind for the moment, and sought his office.
She raised her hand to knock, but noises behind the door gave her pause. She hesitantly turned the knob, and when the door swung open, she was met with the roaring heat of fire.
"Oh my God!"
She uttered, and was ready to spin to trigger an alarm when she realized the flames occupied a single towering sheet, like a pane of glass. Michael stood on one side, and on the other hovered a shimmering, opaque shape of a man lusting for blood.
On base, she wore no sidearm or other means of weaponry, but she wasn't sure it would have done her much good anyway. The creature screamed silent frustration, then dissolved like fog on a hot mirror.
The fire quenched suddenly, but smoke hung heavy on the air. Michael collapsed in his chair, seemingly unaware of her presence.
"Michael!"
She said. The pain on his face was plain. At least to Torri. She entered against all instinct to run away, and went to his side to assess the damage. Apart from making sure he was all in one piece, she had no words. "The hell?"