(eng) Michael Grant - BZRK 0.5 by BZRK Origins

Author:BZRK Origins [Origins, BZRK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

In the next week we created two new biots. Dr. Prim had one and his graduate student, Mitch McGovern, another.

Mitch had the same experience Donna described. He had a sort of picture-in-picture view through the biot’s eyes. He could move the biot as easily as he could move his own feet.

We began to test the biot’s capabilities. Its speed and endurance. Its range.

If we had been following a normal protocol, this stage would have consumed months if not years. But I didn’t have a lot of time. Birgid’s health was failing. The cancer was metastasizing, popping up not just in her lungs now but in her esophagus and brain.

The surgeons could remove some of these new tumors, but until the monster in her lungs was killed, the cancer would just keep coming back.

Time was short.

So Mitch’s biot was placed in a human body. We were looking for ways in. Looking for ways to enter the human body safely. Eyes, ears, nose, throat, urinary tract were all suggested. But the most obvious solution was injection close to the site of the tumor.

But first, a human trial, however truncated. One of the lab techs volunteered to be the test body, so to speak. She would have the biot injected into her bloodstream, with hopes that our biot astronaut would be able to navigate to the lungs.

Mitch’s biot was tagged with a radioactive isotope, placed in a sterile solution, and drawn up into a hypodermic needle. Mitch is a funny guy, and a voluble one, so he gave us a running commentary. It was all very strange. He sat on a high stool at one of the lab tables and described what was happening to his biot one floor down.

But very soon the witty banter got a bit strained. It was obvious that the experience was disturbing to him. A ring of sweat spread from his armpits. The description became more disjointed and repetitive.

“It’s like … Fired out of a cannon. Jesus. You feel … Okay, let me try to organize my observations a little better. What I am seeing is a … I don’t know. The context is all, I mean, it’s hard without a sense of scale.”

I didn’t want to press him. I figured he would calm down after a while and become more objective.

“It’s a billion flat little rocks, like I’m in an avalanche. Blood cells. Fuck me!”

“Can you—”

“Like pulling onto a freeway and everyone’s driving ninety.” Then, “Jesus! What is that?”

“What are you seeing?” Donna asked, becoming impatient. “Just give—”

“It’s moving! It’s moving! I mean, under its own power. It’s like … I … It’s like some kind of monster. Hah. I know. But Jesus, if you were seeing it.”

“Mitch, you’re in no danger. Just tell us what you’re observing.”

“I am observing the hell out of something that looks like a very large wad of snot. And it’s moving. It, like, oozes out a string of snot and then starts reeling it back in, and it moves. Like a snail, but not as … Oh my God.

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