A thousand apologies to you guys! I honestly did not think it would take this long to get the next chapter up. My editor friend has been completely swampped with work recently. I finally decided that I've kept you waiting long enough.
Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Enjoy!
~Chapter One~
"Watch that wire, boy. If you-"
"Ouch! Ah, man that burns!" The young engineer shook his hand wildly as if fanning it would make the burning sensation leap off his fingers.
A gruff voice chided the engineer, "I told you to wear gloves. That's what you get, Norman."
"I know, Professor," the young man whined, "but it's too hard to work with gloves. They always get in the way." Norman trailed off under his breath. The older man sighed and shook his head at the younger.
The professor still hadn't made up his mind about Norman, the young American college graduate that worked as his assistant. Norman had been recruited by the president five years ago for the same secret assignment that the professor himself had already been a part of for three years. Norman had showed no hesitation; he was a student fresh out of college full of determination and vision. Considered a genius by his peers and highly regarded by his teachers, Norman had proved himself worthy of this particular experiment when word of his engineering prowess went global. His work with Personal Frames created a major breakthrough for Artificial Intelligence. During his college years, he had collaborated with a group of other engineers to create an interactive portable assistant with advanced AI. After much hard work and innumerable days fueled by coffee, a shrewd but functional PF was created. Despite its lack of aesthetics, the radio-like PF was able to assess a situation and suggest the best course of action. Norman was snatched up by the president immediately after his graduation while the manufacturing of Personal Frames was left to another company.
On the other hand though, Norman was young and prone to episodes of carelessness. It didn't help that he was terribly clumsy on top of it all. The professor had lost count of the times his heart had stopped because of Norman's accidents. There was no way the professor would lose seven years worth of research and work, especially not to Norman and his coffee.
Shaking thoughts of spilt coffee from his head, the professor turned back to his work at the table full of labeled petri dishes, test tubes, a microscope, and some other equipment designed for work with cells. He lifted one of the dishes labeled "dermis," and scrutinized the cells growing inside. They seemed to be reproducing without any flaws. Of course he would have to verify that through a microscope, but with almost one hundred other cells to check it would have to wait.
He was in the process of setting down the "dermis" dish and proceeding to pick up another when he heard a distinctive sizzling sound followed by a heart-stopping pop.
"Oops," Norman muttered to himself. The professor's eye twitched while he clenched and unclenched his fists. He addressed his assistant without bothering to look at him.
"Norman," his voice was tense and restrained, holding back a yell. "What was that popping sound?"
"Just a fuse on the motherboard, sir," Norman replied casually, his fingers already busy with replacing the blown fuse and repairing the damage on the green circuitry. The nonchalant tone in Norman's voice eased the professor a little. Norman was a genius; he could fix practically anything. However, that didn't stop the professor from feeling a little agitated.
The professor exhaled slowly before speaking to the young man. His voice shook with the stress on his nerves. "Norman, I've been working on this project for eight years. If I lose this," he paused briefly, deciding how to phrase the rest of his thoughts, "Losing it isn't an option. Just please try to be more careful."
He wiped his hand over his face. "I'm going to take a break. Why don't you go through all that mail over there until I get back? And don't even think about working on the doll. I won't want anything blowing up while I'm away." The professor trudged over to the door, opened it slowly, and left without another word.
Norman brushed the strands of red hair away from his face and let out a deep breath. His hands were sweaty from all the tool work. He wiped his hands across the front of his lab coat before shuffling over to the absent professor's desk. A stack of envelopes sat meticulously on one corner with a phone sitting on the opposite. Norman pulled the chair out from under the desk with an exasperated look plastered onto his freckled face. He began sorting through the letters; junk mail, bills, a note from the president (which earned an involuntary shiver), coupons, and more junk mail.
Norman slogged through the pile until he came to a manila envelope with his name messily scrawled in the center. His face lit up as he excitedly tore into the package and expectantly held his hand open underneath. A small computer chip tumbled out of the bubble-wrap lined envelope and landed in his hand. Norman gazed at it in revelry and began turning out of the chair to install it, completely forgetting the professor's warning about not working on the doll.
Sudden ringing from the white office phone stopped Norman in his tracks. Disappointed, Norman set down the chip with a soft grumble and slunk to the phone. He picked up the receiver and answered with a monotonous hello.
A lady's confused voice echoed on the other end. Norman slapped his forehead having failed to remember that he was in Tokyo and not his hometown in Berkeley.
"Sumimasen. Konnichi wa," he corrected. Norman listened to the woman ask him about a flower arrangement that had been ordered from the lab's phone. The flowers were ready, she told him, but they had lost the paperwork for which grave they were supposed to be planted in front of. He thought that she had called the wrong number and tried to convince her that neither he nor the professor had any need for flowers, especially at a cemetery. Her insistence almost forced Norman to hang up the phone when the door creaked open and the professor walked in.
"What are you doing, boy?" The professor muttered in a hushed tone. Norman pulled the receiver away from his mouth and quickly explained the predicament. He was surprised to see the professor freeze up before snatching the phone from his hand and hastily completing the call. The professor ended with an abrupt arigatou and shoved the receiver back into Norman's hands. Norman warily hung up the phone while watching the professor at the same time.
"Professor, why do you need flowers?" Norman almost cringed at the look he received from the older man. He didn't realize that he had basically crashed through the professor's emotional wall and into a very touchy subject without any warning. The professor continued glaring at Norman until he realized that he couldn't blame the boy. Norman's job did include answering phone calls. It wasn't his fault that the florist just happened to call. The professor replaced his glower with a frown, deciding that after five years of collaboration, his assistant deserved an answer.
"They were for my son." The professor spoke hardly above a whisper.
"Do you mean?" Norman's trailing voice suddenly took on a solemn quality. The professor nodded. When Norman looked up at him, it seemed like the professor had aged significantly. His eyes were dark and his scowl had tightened.
"The money was going towards research and therapy. He didn't make it." The professor's voice was stony and grim, almost monotonous like a robot. "I lost my wife during his birth and raised him by myself. After his death, I had no other family to take care of. Everyone that I have ever known has slipped through my fingers like water. I couldn't hold on to them. This project is all I have left. Once it's over with, I don't plan on sticking around."
"Professor! You don't really mean that, do you?" Norman's raised voice betrayed his worry; the professor's grave face confirmed it. "Is that why you don't get attached to anyone? Because you're afraid of losing them?" The older man's dark eyes darted away from Norman's desperate ones. "That explains why you've never told me your name. Aside from me, you don't talk to anyone. You're trying to cut everything off," Norman mumbled gloomily. "You don't want to leave anyone behind," he said in a whisper. The professor never heard Norman's lament.
"Get back to work, Norman. We need to finish this." The professor turned his back on Norman and brought his hand up to his clammy forehead. He hadn't really intended to tell Norman that much, but the feelings he'd held bottled up for all those years rushed out the moment he lifted the lid.
Norman reluctantly nodded his head and hovered over the skeletal frame of the near-completed doll. He scanned it from head to toe, chin in his hand and deep in thought. His foot started tapping rhythmically against the tile floor. Glancing at the chip that he abandoned on the desk, he let out a long sigh and grabbed it.
"I'll be back in a little while, Professor. I need to upload some files to this," he said as he waved the chip. Norman stepped through the lab door, but not without a backward glance towards the professor. He sighed again before shutting the door behind him.
As soon as Norman was through the door, the professor completely broke down. The memory of his dear, deceased son was too much for him to handle. Tears rolled down his once stony face and his shoulders shuddered with each cry.
His erratic sobs and sorrowful moans fell on the deaf ears of the doll, whose lifeless and dull form reminded him of an emaciated corpse, like his young son ravaged by disease.
Norman impatiently flung his arms over the top of his chair with his chin nestled between them. A loud groan escaped his lips. The large, cavernous room known as the incubation wing did nothing to ease his dreariness. He'd been staring at the same glass chamber for hours. The professor stood to his right, busy studying the monitors while wondering when Norman would finally surrender to the boredom.
The young assistant scanned the room for what seemed like the twentieth time. The walls were constructed mostly with glass panels; however nothing of the outside could be seen. Instead a strange red glow emanated from behind the glass walls. Wires and tubes were scattered haphazardly along the floor and human-sized capsules lined the room.
Norman's gaze returned to the central capsule with the doll hanging inside. An assortment of tubes ran from the skeletal frame to the top of the capsule, all varying in size. The door remained open as the professor would go back and forth from adjusting the doll to typing on the computer. Norman stared at the doll, proud of his creation but slightly disappointed with the image of it hanging from the gallows like some sort of criminal.
"It's not going to jump out and do tricks, Norman," the professor said dryly. "I told you it'd be boring down here."
"Yeah, yeah," Norman scoffed. "How long is this going to take?"
"As soon as all the mechanics have stabilized, it'll have to incubate in the chamber for several months. The cells need a chance to grow and fuse with the doll's skeleton. After that, we start running it through tests and training."
"What will the doll look like? Will it even look human?"
The professor hesitated before answering. "If everything goes according to plan, yes. The process is supposed to mimic human development. There are, of course, some enhanced traits, but everything else is going to be done naturally."
"What kinds of traits?" Norman asked excitedly.
The professor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "With the help of the robotic parts, the doll should have excellent eyesight, power, and intelligence; the likes of which we've never seen in the other prototypes."
Norman nodded his head in amazement. He turned to look at the doll hanging in its glass chamber. Right now, it was nothing but a bare skeleton. It was hard to imagine that some day soon it would take on a "living" human form, instead of the corpse it had been.
"It's hard to believe that in only a few months it'll look no different from any other normal human being," Norman announced to himself. "I wonder what it'll look like."
The professor looked over at Norman with a small smirk on his wrinkled face; the only sign of a smile Norman had ever seen on the older man. "You know, don't you?" Norman accused.
"You'll have to wait and see." Norman's face immediately fell into a pout. The professor loved spoiling Norman's fun. The thought of the young man being tortured by his wild imagination brought him a small measure of amusement.
Then the pout suddenly disappeared as questions began to surge out of Norman's mouth and flood the professor's thoughts. "Is it going to be male or female? How old will it look? When will it be able to talk? Will it-"
"Norman," the irritated professor scolded. "Wait and see. If you had been paying attention to anything I've been telling you over the last five years, you would know. Now as punishment for ignoring me you will have to wait." The monitor beeped resolutely as if agreeing with the professor. Without acknowledging Norman's sour face and protests, he hit a few keys on the keyboard. The glass door to the capsule proceeded to close and lock, prohibiting anyone from getting inside. A hiss erupted from underneath the capsule and a viscous, lavender fluid spilled into the chamber and filled it up completely.
"What's that for?" Norman asked.
"It serves as a nutrient, giving the cells the food they need to grow," the professor stated while gathering up all the materials he had brought with him. "We have a lot of observing and reporting to do until the doll is ready."
"How long will that take?"
"About nine months." The professor struggled to hide a smirk when Norman stopped in his tracks, mouth hung open in disbelief. "Better get moving. We don't want to keep the president waiting."