"Hey, hey, hey! I said it's total B.S. You absolutely cannot have three aces!" exclaimed the man gruffly, grinning crookedly as he leaned forward.
"Well, it's your call," said the fellow sitting across from him. He flipped the three cards upright. Triple aces gleamed slightly in the gloom of the single light that overlit the table in the break room.
Letting out a loud curse that sent his companions cackling as the accuser glumly drew a pile of seven cards into his hand, the raucous game continued. The scientists really needed something to take their mind off of their work.
Or, rather, the surgeons work.
As usual, several veterinarians were on hand when the whole disasterous affair began. Ever since they discovered their stray experiment had gone missing through another operation of the institute, a great deal of chaos had occurred. The spectacular return of the same experiment was met with awe as they discovered her occupied womb. A great deal of hustle and bustle occurred as their own vets were called to meeting with several of the best hired hands they could find. This caused a bit of snippiness and resentment on part of their own animal staff; apparently, they were affronted that outsiders would be called to handle this exciting event. A healthy birth from one of their clones had been something they only dreamed of, and that through only careful breeding of the healthiest of clones. As Experiment One had barely survived being born, they worried of the health of the child.
Immediately apparent to the constant tests and scans performed was the irregular heartbeat of the foal. Heart problems at this early stage were alarming. If it should stop while in the womb, it would be all over for the child, and could be a serious risk for Experiment One.
For months, now, everyone had been high alert, and the blue roan mare was treated like a queen. She was pampered, petted, and handled as if she were a delicate figurine. Despite the fact that their careful treatment wouldn't change much of anything if the foal gave out, no chances were taken. The mare was isolated, and under constant surveillance. No wandering accidents would be allowed this time. No mistakes would be made. Everything was shut up tight, and there was a grim air about the entire facility. Would their now very prized mare survive? Doubts and tempers flared, and the stress was getting to everyone.
Although, the scientists appeared entirely relaxed as they gambled half of that week's salary away on various card games.
Meanwhile, in surgery, there was a great deal of panic. Sweaty hands covered in elastic gloves passed utensils. Masked faces hovered over a wheezing figure. There was a great deal of muttering, and the occasional exclamation. Blood was covering several of the weary doctors as they hovored over their patient like so many vultures over a carcass. Of course, their aim was not to end this creatures misery, but to cure it. While the mother lay nearby, having birthed without complication on her end, there was a frenzy of concern for the foal.
Newborn grey fuzz covered the entire body. It was as soft as down to the bare touch, although no human in the room could possibly know these. Like so many feathers, the now-drying mane would wave about in a breeze. Oh yes, mothers know these things, and the dreamy mare thought of them often as she drifted. As her foal had to be taken without fuss, she had been given a tranquilizer. There were enough problem with the stuttering heart of the filly.
Dr. Bubbles gnashed his teeth in a corner, anxiously watching his top two experiments being pawed over by those unworthy hands. He expected all sorts of publicity from this, and with it, a great deal of donations. PAWS executives were already fingering their wallots, and smaller companies scrambled over one another to ride on the coattails of fame that this little filly would have. Oh yes; Dr. Bubbles planned to trot her out and give extended speeches of her miraculous creation and the difficulties of her birth. Thus, it was quisessential that his latest cash cow (or horse, rather) survive this operation.
The chest cavity had been opened, and the weak heart removed. The operation had to be quick. It was risky, but in it's current state, the measly thing it was running on now would leave it to weaken and die. In it's place, an aestetic creation; the year 3672 had long since surpassed creating meat organs in labs. With their deep understanding of anatomy, the creation of an artificial heart was all too easy, and extremely common. Some people had their organs replaced even without being unhealthy; simply preparing for the future, really. This one was state-of-the-heart (as it's birth company, CORE, had jokingly placed on it's advertisement), the best of the best any dying, newborn equine could as for. As it was carefully sealed into place, linking arteries and veins together with their new, faux counterparts, another surgeon anxiously glanced at the clock above. If they operated too slowly, there would be no reviving the dead body.
Luckily for them, they were swift and sure, having done this many times before with less-important customers.
There was a long moment as the pacemaker was booted up. The doctors held their breath, huddled in a circle over their patient, as they stared hopefully, as if their gaze could force the lungs to operate on their own. Their own breath exhaled seconds after it escaped from the delicate nose of the young filly.
"Experiment Two," said the good Dr. Bubbles in a gleeful voice as he approached the foal, whose cool blue eyes gazed wonderingly up at the cluster of humans about her. "Begins now."
A/N: Here we are again, everyone! I'm not an actual doctor - if you hadn't noticed - so forgive my vagueness is this prologue. And, of course, I blame any inaccuracies in the actual process of heart implantation not on my own ignorance, but on the fact it's the future. ;D