01-25-2018, 10:38 PM
Torri was held to rapt attention. At her side, the technician recited vitals. His heart rate increased rapidly. His blood pressure increased. She couldn't spare a moment to glance at the EKG, however. She would need to trust to the skill of the technician to identify cardiac dangers. Her eyes read the myriad lines of brain function, meanwhile.
If he could prove what she thought all along, she might just kiss him. If he lived. Usually about now, the subjects received the power into their body and within minutes fell into cardiac arrest like an overdosing addict. Of course, the drug she administered was non-addictive; most recreational drugs in the CCD were synthetically designed to avoid dependence. That was the basis for why they were legal at all. This one was special, though. It provided the baseline information on the brain that she required. It was the addition of the Power that would either prove or disprove her ideas.
Then, the chemical concentrations in his brain skyrocketed. Torri knew the signature. He had to have successfully absorbed the power into his body. Where the drug increased important chemicals that provided the transmission of euphoria, awareness and concentration, now that the power coursed his body as well, the brain was flooded with chemicals. Wetness glistened across the globes of her eyes and a wide smile split her face. She whipped around to look at Director Stephenson, whose gaze was fixed on the one-way mirror and Carpenter on the other side.
"There's a ventricular abnormality, Dr. Weston," the technician alerted her.
Torri hastened over, scanning the heart monitors as she did.
"Monitor it."
She glanced at him through the window. He was tensed, enraptured by the effects of the drug and the power.
"There's another acute cardiac event," the technician pointed to the waves on the monitor. Torri's lips formed a thin line. He was strong. He could take a little longer. She returned to the brain reading, flipping through the scans of electrical activity. The brainstem was highly active. The heart was responding to the commands of the brain, not the other way around.
"Should I prepare the antidote?"
"Prepare it and give it to me, but I need more data."
The technician handed her an injector, but Torri clutched it anxiously. If he could hold out a little longer.
If he could prove what she thought all along, she might just kiss him. If he lived. Usually about now, the subjects received the power into their body and within minutes fell into cardiac arrest like an overdosing addict. Of course, the drug she administered was non-addictive; most recreational drugs in the CCD were synthetically designed to avoid dependence. That was the basis for why they were legal at all. This one was special, though. It provided the baseline information on the brain that she required. It was the addition of the Power that would either prove or disprove her ideas.
Then, the chemical concentrations in his brain skyrocketed. Torri knew the signature. He had to have successfully absorbed the power into his body. Where the drug increased important chemicals that provided the transmission of euphoria, awareness and concentration, now that the power coursed his body as well, the brain was flooded with chemicals. Wetness glistened across the globes of her eyes and a wide smile split her face. She whipped around to look at Director Stephenson, whose gaze was fixed on the one-way mirror and Carpenter on the other side.
"There's a ventricular abnormality, Dr. Weston," the technician alerted her.
Torri hastened over, scanning the heart monitors as she did.
"Monitor it."
She glanced at him through the window. He was tensed, enraptured by the effects of the drug and the power.
"There's another acute cardiac event," the technician pointed to the waves on the monitor. Torri's lips formed a thin line. He was strong. He could take a little longer. She returned to the brain reading, flipping through the scans of electrical activity. The brainstem was highly active. The heart was responding to the commands of the brain, not the other way around.
"Should I prepare the antidote?"
"Prepare it and give it to me, but I need more data."
The technician handed her an injector, but Torri clutched it anxiously. If he could hold out a little longer.