Lab Rat part 28

Posted: February 9, 2011 in Deep Thoughts, Fiction, Test Subject

“So, no then?” The injector started as a fancy piece of medical equipment, and she’s got my biometrics available to her at pretty much all times. I pick up my pants to put them on. Ugh. I hate putting on wet clothes. I attempt to balance on one foot, and fail. I sit down on the tile, and suck air through my teeth. The floor has all the warmth of the nearest walk-in freezer. I shiver as I pull on my jeans. The chemical smell of the fire foam renews its assault on my nose. It’s apparently one of those smells that gets worse with time. It hadn’t really bothered me before. I stand and wriggle my feet into my boots. I wait on the shirt; I’ll wring it out in the Blast Room before I leave.

“Have a good night, Asher,” Ally tells me. Night? I check the clock on the injector’s display. Four PM. I’m not going home much earlier than I usually do after all. My shoes squish as I head for the door.

“Have a good night,” I tell her.

“Asher,” she says. I look back. “If you’re not going to call me doctor, then Taryn will do. Just please stop calling me Ally.” I try to stifle a grin, and fail completely.

“Thanks, Doctor Allison,” I say. I disappear through the swinging double doors before I turn beet red and start giggling. She’s my boss. Getting fixated on her is one the worst ideas I can remember having. I need to go out and meet people. I shake my head to try to clear my thoughts again. I wring my shirt out over the glassy maw I recently installed in the Blast Room, and I listen to the splattering of the liquid. I should probably get some designated work clothes before I ruin another favorite shirt. I pull the still damp shirt over my head and grab my bag from the counter. I double check the injector. Still four unlabeled cartridges. I can probably do two of them tonight, as long as I don’t die again.

That still blows my mind. I’m definitely going to keep myself well-fed. I’m going to have to trust that Ally – I mean, Taryn – the doctor, at any rate, would have told me if I had any more especially draining powers still in the injector. That is, she’d tell me if she knew. Science is a cruel bastard sometimes. That’s the job though: find out if and how these things are dangerous. Now that I’m thinking a little more rationally, it’s mind-blowing that the doc cracked like that. I’ve never seen so much plain emotion from her. It’s reassuring that she cares enough to save me instead of hiring a new guy. After all, apparently guys like me don’t come along every day.

As I punch in my door codes to leave, I think about my predecessors. One guy may have killed himself by shooting into the sky. Taryn never found the body. Could he still be alive? Probably not. This isn’t a comic book. Just because you don’t see the guy rent limb from limb doesn’t mean he escaped harm. Still, maybe that’s worth looking into at some point. It’d be nice to know what makes me so special compared to him. As for the other guy… Man, I don’t really get how he expected to use borrowed power to get anywhere. His best case scenario gave him maybe an hour or so of powers, and then he’d have to go back to the lab. Then the doc poisons him, or maybe shoots him. I got the impression that she knew how to use that handgun of hers.


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