Enigma
"…and in hypothetical transfusion you'd want to make sure the ratio of red cells at any given time is still between forty and forty-five percent, at least for a normal case." Rilien Spector gestured, his thick black hair falling in sloppy tendrils before his black eyes as he pointed to the computer screen and showed his niece the various programs up and monitoring Wireit's latest project: fully functional synthetic blood. Rilien was merely training and getting Maeleyn, his niece, to think in the technical terms Columbia would require since she was so adamant on going there. Where better to teach her than his lab that produced annually for one of the biggest medical conventions in the world? Dr. Spector smiled as he saw his niece's loopy, neat scribble and pondered on what to have her translate next, acting as if she were doing a real summation that would go into a medical journal. Maeleyn pursed her lips, zipping up her black hoodie a fraction; her uncle's lab was on the lowest floor of the Wireit facility and his lab was usually chilly given the fact he dealt intensely in blood work.
Adjacent from the large white gloss counter they occupied with a film of spread papers, two computers, and various other technical equipment he owned an islet sat budding with full red vials, all different versions of his synthetic blood. They'd tweaked for every good possibility they could think of; extra monocytes, extra anti-fibrin material, extra white cells, and even hybrids such as white cell bloated monocytes! It was a large investment, and so far the DNA bonding was good, the bases were linking as they would in regular human genes. Maeleyn was highly awed by her uncle's biochemical skill; she could be looking at the very project that would eliminate the thought of death beds! Rilien was even so neat and tidy as to have the synthetic blood filed by type; her longwinded uncle kept the B positive rack close…it was their blood type.
Rilien took a moment of reflection as he looked upon his niece. At first glance, and knowing his own blood, she was most of her father. She had her mother's hair though, and the shape of her mother's face. Father's eyes and girlish lips. Serene…God rest your soul. I wish you could see Mae…she's changing things. Helping me change things. the scientist gave a short sigh and tapped his chin. "Anyways, sorry about the absence, Mae, let's tune back in, shall we?" Rilien Spector had moved to Manhattan and lived their nearly longer than he had in Rhode Island where Maeleyn's father, and even Maeleyn herself, had originated. Manhattan wasn't really safe, but it was Keir's demand that when he go away on a ship his daughter went directly to his brother, and here she stood helping him determine the health-based fate of those who had little faith left in medicine.
"Now our generic sample is intended for those that have just lost large amount of blood is a bit off from the traditional mix of cells, plasma, nutrients, hormones, and clotting agents. First off, it's void of materials the body needs to flush because if you're in need of medical attention the last thing you want to do is flush anything out of your system, provided that you don't have a poison in you. Conversely, you want something that will keep you healthy long enough to get proper treatment. RDBL001 has a high percentage of nutrients and anti-fibrin agents so there's no risk of clotting or collision as it begins to ride the pathways and circulate in the body. I'd estimate the mix to be around sixty-seven percent nutrients, eleven percent white blood cells, ten percent plasma, eight percent water, and four percent macrophages." he pulled up the breakdown of RDBL001 and showed her a computer image of a rotating vial that composed the blood bag visible in the cooler next to them on the counter, making the picture spin and rattle off the labels, percentages, and functions.
"So, Maeleyn, question time!" Maeleyn gave a small smile. Grant it she was going to a writing based college and not a medical based college she nonetheless took the 'fun' Rilien found in his work and attempted to think as erratically and brilliantly as he did. "How do we keep the blood successfully flowing, based on its composition?" that was easy, actually. If it was only eight percent water out of the whole one hundred percent it takes to make something, the liquid count needed to be up.
"You need to keep a steady liquid intake, maybe an IV drip?" she nibbled the bottom of her lip, shaking her black hair out of her grey eyes. Rilien smiled, patted her head, and nodded.
"Indeed," he concurred, abandoning the desk where all of his work lay as Maeleyn finished up the summation and walked over to his synthetic human dummies. These dummies were the closest thing he could get to ailing people without having to use real humans; he and another up-and-coming scientist had made them a year or two back. Rilien didn't have the heart to test on real people until he knew it was full-proof, and so he babied his dummies. To his surprise, dummy three began to beep as the machine showed the deteriorating state of the deadly prognosis. The dummy was being cured! "Maeleyn! Maeleyn!" Rilien was all beside himself, "Come, come look dear! Look at what science has done!" he chatted excitedly, popping open the small storage area near the end of the bed to see what blood version had ended up in the IV bag.
"Well," grinned Rilien, "we know RDBL003 works. That was the one we gorged with thirty-five percent white cell filled monocytes, thirty-five percent red blood cells, fifteen percent plasma and fifteen percent nutrient intake."
"And what condition did it cure?" asked Maeleyn curiously, reading the 'stats' for the dummy.
"It cured Carl, here," Rilien had a habit of naming his dummies and talking to them like they were biotic, just as Dr. Mallard did to his deceased patients on NCIS. He patted the dummy's out jutting leg and rifled through the clipboard to check just what it was he'd given the dummy to simulate. "…of tuberculosis." said the scientist matter-of-factly, grinning widely. Maeleyn smiled, too. Good for him. Rilien tucked her fake summation in his folder to review it later, watching his children brew in their safe, chilly nests and slots, checking on his other 'patients' as he went.
They both jumped; unaware that Chaplin was due to pay them a visit today as the young scientist circled around the islet and peered curiously into the cooler on the counter. The red-haired prodigy had actually helped Rilien develop the dummies, and, once upon a time had been his intern. "Dr. Spector." remembering his place, his old mentor, Chaplin shook the forty-two year old's hand. "Maeleyn." the two knew very little of each other, and Maeleyn liked to reserve her handshakes for the people that earned them. Chaplin smiled regardless, and began chatting with Rilien (much to Maeleyn's chagrin) about his latest developments and had way too many inquiries about the synthetic blood for her liking. Rilien, though, bless her uncle, was much too kind to deny anyone to see or offer their thought on his work.
Chaplin rubbed her wrong, for whatever reason, and she watched him with the ferocity of a tigress standing between danger and her child. His hands floated and traced the vials in a very weird way. "Do they smell?" she heard him ask her uncle and Rilien grabbed the nearest vial off the table, a B blood sample, and popped it open, waving it under his nose. "Odd," he remarked, "scentless." Rilien merely laughed at him as Chaplin returned curiously to the blood bag sitting atop an ice-filled cooler.
He poked the bag interestedly, wondering if synthetic blood gave the same liquidy, squishy motions a regular bag would if he poked it. Unbeknownst to either Spector he had a micro-needle on his left-hand index finger. Gradually, little by little, he was injecting the various blood samples with animal DNA as he'd been asked. It was Rilien's own fault; he'd refused to do the job himself. Poor man…brilliant man, but a poor man. Stupid man.
What bi-animal concentration he'd put in the B positive blood sack he didn't know. Every time he reached in his pocket, pulling out his phone to check the time, a different head to the needle was on and another infusion occurred. Maeleyn looked up, as did Rilien and Chaplin. There was an odd rumbling coming from above. An explosive detonated on the second floor, leaving a gaping hole above their heads that rained debris and called up horrible dusty conditions impossible to swat away as foreign black-clad people dropped down to stare at them behind mesh-eyed masks. Rilien, though shocked, quickly recovered, "Chaplin! Get her out of here, and take some samples with you!" he did not want these people getting his work!
Wasting no time Chaplin grabbed Maeleyn's hand and snatched up the cooler, hearing it lock shut as he took off in a swift stride ducking around the men and exiting to the corridor that would connect to the main platform and the front doors. "Uncle Rilien!" Maeleyn cried out, distressed and heart beating frantically as she realized the shrill fear in her echoing voice. "Who are they? Those people?" she demanded, trying to stop Chaplin's running momentum, struggling to free herself.
"Retrievers," he breathed, slipping out the front doors and into the sunshine, still hiding behind the grand pillars holding the large stone arc up, being careful of any potential interceptors in the surrounding plot of bottom-fenced trees. "They want your uncle's work. He's refused to merge or sell to any other company so, naturally, they're taking what they want by force."
"WHO?" Maeleyn yowled again, rage filling her form. The tanned skin across her knuckles stretched thin as she balled her fist. This had something to do with Chaplin and she'd bet any money she had on it. Just as she drew her arm back to deck the ugly glasses off his face a black-clad man slithered from behind the next pillar. Maeleyn felt a sharp bite in her neck and cursed, ripping out a little dart.
Her vision slowly began to blur; Chaplin danced in and out of grainy focus as he attempted to manhandle her assailant, soon he crumbled on the ground…about the same time she had to sink to her knees to avoid the tilt-a-whirl the earth had become. His glasses were broken, and Chaplin appeared to be unconscious. The Foot ninja waited until the girl was completely unconscious, slumped against the pillar, before shouldering her and the cooler, nudging Chaplin with his foot. "Get up," he said, "we have her."
"And we have him." five more Foot members dragged a spitting, bloodied Rilien with them and made the scientist look at his niece.
"You bastards!" he cried, "you said you wouldn't do this!"
"The master feels you need to learn the consequences of your actions." said a second Foot soldier holding him, storing the two in a large van painted to look like a tree trimming business shortly before pulling out of the parking lot.
"And just what are my 'consequences'?" dared ask Rilien as he spat at Chaplin from his seat behind the driver of the van; trying his best to peer in the very back of the vehicle where he could hear the rattling and shifting of metallic instruments.
"Don't know," he heard Chaplin murmur, "we'll see when she wakes up." Rilien's eyes grew wide as he saw Chaplin systematically squeezing the blood bag in rhythm, an IV line funneling into his niece's upturned arm and a very blue, bruised vein. Good god…
Just what was he getting into? What had he done? What were they doing? Who was their 'master'? More importantly, what did they want synthetic blood for?